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The Morning of 1st September saw the Potter family—along with Bella and Delacours—making their way through the crowd, ever so cautious. Their faces were hidden beneath notice-me-nots and powerful charms to change their hair color.
If one wanted a glimpse of the grimness that gripped the country now, they need only look at the wizards delivering their children on platform 9¾. The ever-present murmuring of the crowd that Harry had once dearly missed was completely absent now. Wizards went about their task in a hushed and hurried manner, treating what would normally be a joyous—though somewhat bittersweet—occasion as something to be fearful about…almost as if a bunch of Death Eaters might pop out any minute to start spreading chaos. Some were even shielding their young ones beneath their cloaks—their trunks dragging behind them carelessly—hiding their faces as if the simple action of being recognized might put them at risk.
Though they need not have worried so much. It was their lucky day, for the Potter family shared their concerns and Harry wasn't willing to put their lives at any kind of risk. Thus, exercising his authority as the Head of Aurors, he'd placed a squadron of level five Duelers to cover every corner of the station, recognizing this day as a potentially hazardous one.
Even though he suspected nothing would actually come of it—after all, Voldemort should be more worried about licking his wounds clean rather than targeting a train station—it was the principle of the matter.
A loud, steamy honk from the Hogwarts express announced its departure time, making the Potter family hasten their pace. As they crossed families and children, Harry gave a discrete look around the King's cross station, nodding at his disguised Aurors. Most carried with them the latest edition of Daily Prophet, its first page once again dominated by the events that took place a couple days prior. Though Aurors weren't the only ones still reading up on the events. Most of the idle people on the station carried with them an edition of the newspaper, smiles on their faces even in these dark times.
If there was one thing that could cut through the grimness of war, it was the news of victory. And even through war, people found their own little ways to celebrate the small victories. Harry's favorite by far was a bunch of witches burning effigies of Death Eaters in the middle of Diagon Alley.
There was just something powerful in seeing your enemies being so casually defied.
Another shrill whistle from the train refocused Harry's attention, and the family finally reached their target.
'Right on time.' A ghostly smile twisted Harry's lips up as his eyes took in the familiar, yet strangely distant scene.
For his Slytherin self, it was just a few months ago that the unforgettable blood-red train had graced his eyes. For Harry however, it may as well have been a lifetime since he'd partaken in the services of Hogwarts express.
'Scratch that, it has been a lifetime ago since I last stood on this platform.'
It was a grand shame indeed that the amount of time since he'd traveled on the train would simply have to increase further, for he wouldn't be sharing the express with Lily and his siblings today. His position as the Head of Aurors left him too much to do in too little a time to afford a train ride.
Plus, he'd also decided to pay temporary goodbye to Fleur and Gabrielle, both of whom would also be returning to Beauxbatons today.
Surprisingly, when he'd revealed this to his new family, all three of his fellow Potters had been wroth at his decision, and only the fact that he would be dropping the Delacour sisters to their station next got through their pretty heads.
Their protests had left him confusedly grinning. It was just a few hours after all. He would've expected Lily to make a little fuss perhaps—after all, it was her decision to travel with the family this time, and he'd just gone ahead and ruined it—but to see his sisters vehemently demanding his presence had certainly been…unexpected, to say the least. Quite endearing, and taking a huge weight off of his shoulders, but surprising all the same.
'To think a simple heart-to-heart was all it needed to get them to accept me…'
On the last night before their end of holidays, Harry had finally accepted the needling from Bella—and surprisingly, Apolline—to have a talk with his sisters. There had been a few tears at first, and some hurtful accusations that left him tongue-twisted, but the end product had been both of his sisters wrapped under his arms as they bawled their eyes out. He'd long since thought that he'd lost his sisters due to replacing James and Jacob…but never in a lifetime would he have suspected it was his own inactions that were causing the cracks in their relationship.
He truly hadn't expected a single talk to soothe his sisters' hearts—and he suspected Fleur and Gabrielle of having played a part—but he was glad to count them as a proper family now. He may not consider Lily his true mother, but nothing could stop him from treating the girls like sisters he'd never had.
Not even the logical conclusion that he couldn't count them as sisters if he was unwilling to see Lily as a mother.
Though it did come along with its own shares of annoying— and quite endearing—set of problems.
"Can't you join us after dropping Gabby and Fleur, please?" Little Rose tugged at his sleeves, not for the first time in the past hour, while the rest of his family—including the Delacours—came to a quick halt upon reaching the train.
Still holding her hand, Harry looked down at his little sister, her red hair temporarily changed to brown to blend in with the crowd. He knew it wouldn't work for long, they were all simply too famous for that, but it had done the job of delivering them to Hogwarts express without causing a ruckus.
Smiling apologetically, he gently squeezed his sister's hand. "Tell you what, sis. You remember what I told you last night? Well… keep your promise to me, and I'll pick you up on the other side."
Rose nodded grudgingly. "Okie."
"Oh yeah, we remember all about your precious plans." Dorea snarked from behind him. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone, dad. Thanks."
Rose snickered.
Harry sighed.
"Come on, girls. Don't bully your brother." Lily came to his rescue...before her giggle revealed her true sinister intentions. "There will be plenty of time for that in the castle."
"Why do I even hope?" Harry asked to the heavens, ignoring the amused ladies.
The throng of people entering the train had lessened a lot, and Harry quickly picked up their luggage without trouble, placing it past the doors. The ladies selected the fourth carriage to settle in, dumping their luggage in, before coming back out for the last farewells.
He stood on his lonesome, a little distance back from the two groups of females; Bella, Apolline, and Lily whispering amongst themselves, shooting him an occasional glance or two, while Fleur and Gabby paid a tearful goodbye to their new friends.
For all his complaints though, he couldn't help but feel a novel joy warming his chest.
"Remember, you two. Don't discuss what we talked about last night unless you're alone. I'll join you all in Hogwarts." Were his last words of farewell to the group before the train departed from the King's Cross station, leaving them behind; waving.
For some reason, Harry felt quite downtrodden as his fellow Potters disappeared away in a trail of smoke. 'I should've been with them today.'
Even though he knew they would be reuniting again mere eight hours later, he couldn't help but feel he'd lost something vital by missing this particular chance.
'Well…next time, perhaps.' He could only hope fate would be kind enough to drop another bonding opportunity in his lap.
Sighing, he turned around and cast a quick Tempus, before glancing at the Delacours. "Alright, our Portkey goes off in five minutes, recheck your luggage and see if you've missed anything."
They were starting to attract a crowd now. With the station now almost completely empty, their group stuck out like royalty in the midst of peasants.
He wanted to be gone as soon as possible. Especially as the disguised Aurors took their leave, having been ordered to go and secure Hogwarts for the rest of the day.
"Are you sure you'll be safe in France, Harry?" Bella asked quietly, coming to stand beside him.
He shrugged. "They can try whatever they want, I doubt it'll work. Worse comes to worst, I'll cut a bloody path straight back to England."
Bella chuckled. "And there you go underestimating human greed again. I didn't mean they'll attack you, Harry. Merlin no, that'll be a massive political suicide. But there are a lot of ways they can make your life difficult, without intending to. Do you want me to come along?"
"Oh, I very much do." Harry chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at the woman. "Though not for the reasons you might be thinking. Alas, a busy maiden like you would never accompany me for the pleasure of my company."
An elbow suddenly buried itself in his stomach…but the hit was so soft that he couldn't help but turn to the perpetrator with a raised brow and a smirk. "Yes? Do you disagree? Perhaps you do want to come along then, eh?"
"Why are you so infuriating?" Bella bemoaned, shaking her head.
"It's part of the charm, honey." Harry winked. "Now c'mon, be a good girl and kiss me goodbye."
He extended his cheek but only received another punch to the stomach, though this one was even lighter. Probably because the hitter refused to look at him, hiding behind her lock of black hair.
He could've sworn he got a glimpse of blushing red rapidly rising all over her pretty neck but he couldn't be sure.
"Oh well, if you won't…" He closed the distance between them, took her in his arms—ignoring her surprised squawk —and kissed her firmly on her brows. "It's goodbye for now, I'm afraid. Though maybe I'll meet you in the Ministry today?"
She huffed halfheartedly, and Harry slowly pushed a few strands of her hair away.
'Yeah, she's definitely blushing.'
"I know I haven't fulfilled my promise yet." He whispered against her ears, his lips brushing against her cheeks. "I just need some time, alright? I'll tell you everything soon."
Bella managed a shaky nod, her entire body frozen still.
'Ok, maybe I was a little too direct in a public place.'
He removed his hands from her waist, stepping back.
Giving a last wave, he turned around and removed the Portkeyed watch from his pocket.
"You lot ready?" He asked, glancing up.
He was surprised to see Apolline watching him and Bella like a hawk, a glimmer of something unexplainable shining in her crystalline blue eyes as she nodded.
"Very well. Let's get going then."
It was time to grace France with his humble personage.
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'Please…help…help me!' Juliette Laurent closed her eyes as the mangled man's desperate cries ringed in her ears, the scene of that dreadful night playing out in her mind's eye once more. She remembered it all; the smell of his burnt flesh, the blood dripping from his battered body; minced and crushed beneath the piles of other dead, his entrails hanging from his torn stomach…it was enough to make anyone puke their guts out without feeling ashamed.
Juliette shivered, trying to push the memories down as her stomach began churning. It was difficult of course. It always was. Even with actively practicing Occlumency, the chances of success were low and most of the time she would end up being mercilessly tortured by the ghosts of that day.
That day, also known as the Red Hour for those who lived through it…or the Black Day for the spectators who hadn't witnessed the red carnage of that hour. Two weeks it had been, yet the stench of blood, sweat, and horror clogged her nose whenever her mind wandered towards it…
And she remembered it all. So very clearly.
They'd been caught off-guard like new recruits. Pincered by the panicking crowd and those cloak wearing hooligans—just like the rest of the Auror squads; crushed beneath the boots of the people they were meant to protect. And amidst the panic, hysteria, and confusion, they'd lost control of the situation completely, responding poorly to the threat. For all their talks and vows of bravery, her team, led by a British Auror, had scattered just like the rest.
'As had all the other Auror squads.' Including her fellow French-wizards.
Juliette had counted herself amongst the lucky ones to have survived the night. When their savior came to save them—selflessly attracting the attention of those blasted Death Eaters—she'd rejoiced like a child at a fair. 'I won't die here!' she'd cheered in her mind, jubilant. 'My children won't be motherless! My husband won't be a widower!' Oh if only she'd known.
The crowd had parted for their savior like welcoming a king, showering upon him more respect than any Auror team could hope to receive. Yet, Juliette hadn't been jealous. How could she be? Out of the whole group, she alone had survived, she alone would return to see her family's faces, she alone would be hailed as the survivor of battle that would no doubt be captured in the history pages…and it was all thanks to their savior; Harry Potter.
Yes, she'd felt quite lucky then.
…And then the situation calmed down, and the British Ministry unearthed the bodies of her husband and two children from beneath the pile of dead, shattering her life like a cracked mirror. She hadn't felt so lucky then.
Now, only she and her eight year old daughter remained out of the family of five.
The last fact brought it with a pain and emptiness so strong that Juliette physically recoiled. She clenched her hands tight, gritting her teeth to stubbornly keep the tears at bay.
Aurors don't cry on jobs. Especially not on jobs they'd fought tooth and nail to get, all against the wishes of their superiors. And if the said superiors caught her crying now of all times, they'd instantly ban her from this mission, and probably force her to take an extended leave.
Juliette usually didn't make a habit of arguing against the wishes of her superiors, but she simply could not bear to sit around moping because others thought her too weak to handle a couple of deaths.
A 'couple of deaths' that belong to your husband and children…
She winced.
But more than that, she couldn't miss this mission for anything. It meant a lot to her…a chance to thank her savior.
She may have spent the first few days since the incident stupidly blaming Harry Potter for not arriving quickly enough, but she knew she owed the boy a debt unlike any.
Had he not come at all, her daughter would've been an orphan now. Or worse, dead.
Just the thought of losing her little princess made the hollowness in her heart become even more acute.
No. She refused to let her daughter die. Her last family, the one ray of light in the utter darkness…she wouldn't lose her for anything.
But to ensure her survival, the Dark Lords must be gone. And for the Dark Lords to go, Harry Potter must succeed.
And she would help in any way she can.
A sudden knock to her door broke her out of her reverie, and Juliette quickly wiped her eyes for any drop of tears.
"Senior Auror Laurent?" Came the beckoning call. "It's time. They're waiting for you."
"Coming!" Juliette replied, a little annoyed at the hitch in her voice.
She scanned herself in the mirror quickly, looking for any tear-stains. Thankfully, there were none. Giving a last determined nod to herself, she took a deep, calming breath and bounded for the door.
The messenger had already disappeared by the time she left her room, heading deeper down the corridor to alert the rest of her team.
Juliette didn't bother waiting, and made her way to the briefing room, passing by the Lonely Window, which has always been their sole means to view the outside world.
The Auror office was located on the third floor of the French Ministry Headquarters. The rooms were lined up in two straight rows on both sides of a single long corridor—wide enough to fit the full height of an average man—housing almost every individual Auror the French currently possessed, except the Head Auror and his or her second in command.
As she rounded a corner, she came upon two other Aurors directly in front of her—both she suspected of being her teammates for the mission—laughing and joking as they traced the same path as her.
"You know the best part of the mission, Mec?" The smaller one asked, and she belatedly placed the voice as belonging to Crisper.
The other one was more easily recognized; taller than average, with a slender build and quiet disposition, Blanchet was well known for his adequacy.
"Camille Moulin's leading us all!" Crisper barked excitedly, still unaware of her presence. "You know, the hot blonde chick with big tits everyone's been crowing about—"
Juliette wrinkled her nose in distaste, barely stopping herself from marching ahead to flay the man's skin. Moulin was interesting enough that she couldn't help but lend her ears to the conversation, no matter how much the tiny man made her want to deliver a good smack to his bald head.
Crisper might be a little stupid, and infuriatingly perverted, but he had a tendency of poking his nose where it doesn't belong—mostly in the business of higher authorities—making him a wonderful source of information.
"Guess what? She just became a level six Dueler!"
"I heard that." Blanchet replied, nodding. "Maximoff says it's to give her more experience but you and I know that's a load of bull. She may be a prodigy and all, but the higher ups are pushing some convoluted agenda, mark my words. Meeting Potter ain't something you can treat like a practice mission."
'True that.'
Yet, Juliette couldn't help but frown. It would seem she had missed much more of the Ministry's on-goings than she'd originally believed. She may not have been as involved with the politics in the last two weeks as she'd normally be, but the sole fact that no one had even bothered to inform her that there were deeper objectives to this mission stung her pride. At the height of her career, there was a point where she was being seriously considered for the Head Auror's position. And now she had to gather information from a banter between grunts?
It was downright insulting.
Could her two weeks break really push her position down so much?
No…if anything, she should've received a promotion for being the only French Auror to survive the night.
'Something fishy is going on in the Ministry. And it definitely involves Harry Potter or the two Dark Lords.' Most things do nowadays.
Up ahead, Crisper tsked. "Does it matter? We're going on a mission with Busty Moulin!"
Juliette cringed back, sheer indignation breaking her angst. 'This stupid worm.'
"You came up with that yourself, didn't you?" Blanchet snorted. "There's no way anyone's calling her that."
"They are!" Crisper insisted, looking offended. "And it's true anyway. Now come on before the old man starts making moves on her. We gotta protect our juniors, you know?"
Having heard enough, Juliette quickly closed the distance and cleared her voice. "I take it you're behaving well, boys?"
Both the men jumped out of their skins, quickly whirling around with hands on their wands.
Juliette suppressed a smile.
"Woah there, who—? Oh! Madam Laurent!" Crisper chuckled nervously. "Uhh…shouldn't you already be in the briefing room?"
Her eyes narrowed, pinning him under her death glare. "As should you two."
She was a tad bit disappointed on how quickly both of them regained their composure.
"We were awaiting confirmation for the mission, ma'am." Blanchet answered quietly, both assuming an attentive position. "Auror Rudder said the mission needs people with…specific skill sets. We weren't really sure we would be selected until the notice came."
"Yeah…I'm still surprised!" Crisper chuckled sheepishly. "No one's ever accused me of being 'Impressive looking' you see? Don't know how I managed to check that requirement. Not that I'm complaining!"
'Impressive looking, huh?' She filed in the back of her mind.
"I see." She grunted. "In any case, take care how you speak. Moulin is your senior now, I doubt she'd appreciate your 'protection'—"
"Bah! Semantics." The words left Crisper's mouth a moment before he slapped his hand on it, instant regret flashing in his eyes.
Juliette continued, unheeding. "And she can, and will, put you on Dementor searching duties if you let her hear that."
Both the men shuddered.
"Uh…surely no one can be that cruel, ma'am?" Blanchet asked.
"Honestly, I don't know why we're cleaning others' mess." Crisper muttered hesitantly. "Those English wizards should've known to control their creatures."
"The Light Lord did what he needed to." Blanchet protested, his head whipping around to face his partner with a scowl. "You can't expect perfection from everyone."
"'The Light Lord'." Crisper laughed mockingly. "You can just call him Potter, you know? I'm so ashamed that one of us believes in that nonsense."
Juliette pushed down the urge to scowl, her tone completely neutral as she asked, "You doubt him?"
Crisper shrugged. "I'm sure he's a terrific dueler for his age, but I'm also sure the events of that night are exaggerated. One of my friends—who witnessed the fight for himself—claimed the boy had support from many, and it was actually his mother, Lily Potter, who sheared through Grindelwald's defense. Now that's someone I'd worship wholeheartedly hehehe…"
The dreamily lecherous smile that was just starting to spread on his face was wiped clean off when Juliette's palm met his cheeks with an audible splat.
"You will reign your attitude in front of him, Crisper." She commanded coldly. "Or I will have you suspended right now."
"Yes, Ma'am." All the humor drained out of him as he rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. "Don't you worry, I'm gonna kiss the ground that he walks on. Am not stupid enough to insult him to his face."
She kept her eyes trained on him for a few more seconds before finally giving a nod. "Come. We've wasted enough time."
She could see his eyes jump, a snarky 'And who's fault is that?' on his tongue, but he was smart enough to swallow it down and fall in line next to his partner.
When they reached the briefing room, they found the rest of their group already assembled inside, sharing the same subject of conservation.
"Rumor has it that Potter's banging half his household. You know the Delacours and Black? They say they live with him just for one thing…that Potter juice…"
"Lucky bastard."
"Careful, mec,'' one of the older Aurors chuckled. "His little fans will tear you a new one if they hear you disrespecting their messiah."
The mocking tone grated on her nerves something fierce, and it took a solid second of deep breaths before Juliette calmed herself. While she would have normally been more vocal in her defense of Harry Potter, it caught her a little off-guard to see Old man Vanduc being the slanderer.
"You don't like Potter either, Old man?" Crisper joined them with an impish grin, a triumphant glint in his eyes as he glanced at her.
She stared back coldly. Arguing with idiots was a fool's job.
"I like the kid." Vanduc shrugged. "I like what he stands for. But I don't like this worshiping the people are giving him. That never works out well. No man is god."
"You two have no fucking clue what you're talking about." Blanchet scowled, fuming, a hand inching towards his wand. "My parents are alive today solely because of him. He is ten times the man you both could ever hope to be."
Crisper and Old man shared a grimaced glance, their mockeries subduing at the potentially violent situation. She was a touch surprised to see the quiet Blanchet being so out of bounds right now, but she could completely understand.
It takes little to judge a man, the hard part comes in understanding him.
"We're not saying he doesn't deserve his due credit, Mec." Old man said gently. "It's just…the amount of trust people are placing on him is ridiculous. Maybe he is a young merlin, and maybe he can defeat the Dark Lords…eventually. But we're far away from the time. He's what? Fifteen? Sixteen? He'll need at least a decade of knowledge and experience to stand anywhere near Grindelwald's level. And I say a decade with all the hopes I can realistically put on him. Placing such expectations on his inexperienced shoulders will do more harm than good."
Crisper nodded. "It'll break his back is what it'll do."
"So what?" Juliette finally found herself voicing her thoughts, no longer able to keep quiet. "People are scared, Old man. Unlike you and me, they can't defend themselves. They need someone to trust. Someone who can be their defender. And Harry Potter has risen up to be that someone. Not you, not me, certainly not any of the Ministries, but a boy who owes us nothing, a boy who'd already defeated a Dark Lord when he was a child. Could you really blame the people for their zeal?"
Silence descended on their group, and it never received the chance to leave as their squad leader finally arrived.
Young, charming, and dressed to…impress, Moulin certainly cut a striking figure as a young leader.
"We leave in two." She announced without preamble, maintaining an iron-focus. "Harry Potter's Portkey will go off in a minute. We have to be there to welcome him."
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And welcome him they did. But not in the way they were expecting.
Harry Potter and his group had Portkeyed at a warded open ground just south of Aéroport de Cannes-Mandelieu. As the only male in the group, it was easy to recognize him almost immediately. But even had that not been so, he would've still stuck out from any crowd. The way he'd landed in a crouch at the moment of his arrival, his wand at ready, cold eyes scanning for ambush…she knew they weren't facing a child. Raw experience was one thing you cannot fake; the knowledge of exactly what corners to scan, what magic to look out for, how to make yourself a smaller target for a potential ambush…it was something only an experienced Auror could replicate, and she knew her fellow Aurors agreed with her.
Even Crisper and Vanduc shared a glance with frowning brows as The-Boy-Who-Lived straightened up. She was a touch surprised to note the elder Delacours were copying his caution as well, but it wasn't too unexpected. Fleur Delacour was widely known throughout France as the one who fought alongside their savior.
"Lord Potter." Moulin wasted no time in greetings, removing a glove and extending an arm forward, the back of her naked hand staring at Potter.
Juliette's eyes twitched. 'So that's the game the Ministry wants to play…'
Potter didn't show any surprise, smoothly leaning down to brush his lips at the back of her hand. "Well met, miss…?"
He straightened up, his eyes—the color of shining emerald gems—coming to stare into Moulin's soul.
…And their leader for the day lost her bearings.
"Uhh, C-Camilla." She stuttered, a deep blush extending down her collarbone. "Camilla Moulin, but you can call me Camilla."
Juliette closed her eyes. 'Get a grip, girl!'
Normally she wouldn't be annoyed at her; Harry Potter was definitely worthy of being blushed over. She doubted she'd be any better had she been Moulin's age. Even though the boy wasn't trying to be charming—with no smile on his face, and eyes as suspicious as ever—there was no denying that he looked way past his age. Had she not been studying him in detail ever since that day, she never would've guessed him to be a fourteen year old.
'A potion perhaps?' She wondered, her eyes snapping open to stare at the boy. 'Or just impressive genes?'
Whatever the case, the point remained. Harry Potter was every maiden's dream come true and she normally wouldn't begrudge Moulin her moment of shyness.
But these weren't normal times. There were specific reasons that they were selected to represent the French Auror corps, and she doubted blushing and stuttering was one of them.
'Why was this girl even allowed to lead them?'
She couldn't rightly guess.
Well...that was a lie. She definitely could guess.
The most probable reason? Their Minister was hoping to form closer bonds with Potter. Considering that he was single, and without any betrothal, it made sense to try and trap the boy with the cold classic tactic; teenage love.
Hell, she even suspected Moulin was given this urgent promotion to level six for the sole reason to lead them…and to have something in common with Potter: both were young, attractive, prodigies, and finally—Auror commanders…yes, she could see where this was going.
And yet, while the girl was talented, she was no Harry Potter. But she was beautiful, and like Crisper bragged, had a figure Juliette would've once been incredibly jealous of. And perhaps that was what her superiors were counting on.
It annoyed Juliette a great deal but there was nothing to be done. 'Politics…it all comes down to stupid politics in the end.'
At least she could take some pleasure in knowing they'd failed horribly. Harry Potter hadn't smiled a single time since his arrival.
"Well, Miss Moulin." Potter addressed their leader. "If you can guide us to our destination now?"
And so they did.
They led the group past the airport, coming to a stop in front of a wall full of inconspicuous looking crystal plates shining under the sun. But the wizards and witches of France knew; it was always the seventh plate from the right.
"This part of the wall separates the muggle world from the magical, Mr. Potter." Camille informed him, sticking her hand into the silver crystalline plate which passed right through it as if it were made of smoke. "You simply need to surrender to its magic and it shall grant you access."
"Very well." Potter nodded. "You first."
Juliette suppressed an urge to laugh at Moulin's disappointed face.
There was simply no way for her to deny the command without harming her objective. And so they entered the crystal wall, half of them unaware of the game their superiors were trying to play, the other half uncaring, too enamored by Harry Potter to pay any attention elsewhere.
Most wished to strike a conversation with him, Juliette knew, and she wasn't an exception. But they'd been strictly warned against taking any actions beyond the scope of the mission…and to trust Moulin explicitly.
She was forced to accept the first order but she would never follow the latter.
Even as they entered the French equivalent of Platform 9 ¾—something she would love to visit one day—Juliette couldn't help but lament the lost opportunity to thank her savior.
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'Beautiful.'
Harry's eyes lost themselves within the magic of the land that greeted him. Unlike platform nine and three quarters, the magical airport was completely open and unroofed, with healthy rays of morning sun falling upon the grounds, lighting the whole place up.
Dozens of pastel blue carriages were parked in a neat line, all being pulled by twelve beautiful winged horses. People were milling around the grounds, with crowds of Beauxbatons students claiming their carriages and leaving the earth for the vastness of skies. There didn't seem to be a fixed schedule for all the carriages to travel together, so the skies never felt crowded by the horses.
After experiencing the gloominess of King's cross station, he felt like he'd entered a whole new world, where people still retained a semblance of freedom and joy.
"Impressed?" He felt an elbow bump into him lightly.
Glancing to the side, his eyes met the deep blue laughing orbs of Fleur as she gave him a brilliant smile.
"A little bit." He admitted grudgingly, letting himself surrender to the lightness of this place.
He was soon about to go back to the grim and dreary England anyway, what was the harm in enjoying himself a little?
"C'mon..." Fleur grabbed his hand while Apolline and Gabby followed them at a more sedate pace, all of them ignoring the contingent of Aurors spread around them. "I'll show you all of my favorite carriages!"
Laughing, Harry joined the excited girl.
"Lord Potter, please allow me to—" Started the French Auror leader, only to stop short when Fleur abruptly turned around, giving one of the most vilest glares he'd ever witnessed to Auror Moulin, before proceeding to ignore her completely.
"Come." She tugged at him again, the glare replaced by a small grin.
'What was that?' Harry blinked, letting himself be dragged to the rightmost carriage.
Fleur gave him a quick tour of the ground, taking from carriage to carriage, and showing him the beauty of the winged-horses—who Harry dubbed as the better-looking cousins of Thestrals—ignoring all the other students who seemed to recognize her immediately, unlike him, whose face they probably never saw apart from a newspaper.
Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before he was recognized and his name spread throughout the magical airport, forcing the Delacour siblings to quickly select an empty carriage before the crowd could overwhelm them.
"You'll be at Hogwarts when we come, right?" Fleur asked him hesitantly.
"Of course, I will."
She looked like she wanted to say more, but she simply settled on extending her hand forward.
Harry snorted, wrinkling his nose, and pulled her in a tight hug, ignoring her startled gasp.
"After these two month, you won't ever have to be alone." He promised her, her sweet scent filling his head with dreams of summer.
She felt so very delicate in his arms; a true divine princess whose affections he'd somehow won. His mind couldn't help but re-live the moment when she'd kissed him, feeling the softness of her lips against his. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he couldn't help wanting to refresh the memory…
He pulled his face back slightly, turning to stare into her electrifying eyes, her awe and need reflecting inside his chest, their nose almost touching as her breath warmed his neck...
'Should I?'
He let himself lean into her, their lips meeting each other, brushing softly…
A throat cleared beside him, and he remembered he wasn't quite alone here. A few hoots called out from their gathered audience and he forced himself to release Fleur from his embrace—her face a flaming red; holy fuck, she's so beautiful!—and glanced at a very unamused Apolline.
Harry shrugged. "Not my fault, her beauty is a sin in itself."
Fleur ran inside the carriage, and his heart clenched in sheer disappointment.
Feeling a tug at his robes, Harry glanced down to find Gabby extending both of her hands at him, her cheeks puffed up in annoyance.
"And you too, little one." Chuckling, he picked her up. "You're just as pretty."
Apolline came up beside him, giving a quick farewell to her children.
The crowd had grown a lot now, and he knew it was about time for the paparazzi to show up.
"Apolline, we need to go." He called out to the woman.
Nodding, she wiped at her cheeks, startling him a little with the wetness, before backing out to wave as the horses took off into the air, dragging the carriage along.
The Aurors were doing their job of holding back the crowd now, and Harry quickly grasped Apolline's hand.
"Ready?"
"Of course." The woman nodded. But while her face might've as well been carved through marble, her voice was subdued enough to let him know her sadness.
They grasped at the authorized Portkey, it's time already set to match their escape.
A moment before they could vanish away, one of the Aurors broke out from the group. "Mr. Potter!"
Harry turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"
The Auror was a young woman, probably in her late twenties; wearing the typical French Auror uniform. She had a severe beauty to her, especially now as she looked at him in pure determination, a tear in her eye.
"Thank you." She whispered. "You saved my daughter that day. I will never forget what…I just…thank you."
He liked her more than her leader already.
Harry smiled. "I'm glad I could be of help, miss…?"
"Laurent." Her voice thick with relieved tears. "Juliette Laurent."
Harry nodded. "I hope we meet again, Auror Laurent." and vanished away from the airport, successfully escaping the rapidly escalating situation.
-------------------------
With grave eyes flickering upon the pages beneath her, the Minister of Magical Britain sat back at her desk, quietly reading the report she'd received earlier from her head of DMLE.
'Threat level: 6 [Needs immediate action].
Our observations have revealed that Dementors prefer to form colonies rather than wandering individually. While they may hunt alone, they always return back to their nest. From the few Dementor nests that we've discovered, we can conclude that they mainly infest places with a dark history, particularly open grounds that are high in misery and despair. The three nests currently scattered around Britain include two muggle battlegrounds, and one village named Eyam. Each nest contains at least thirty of them and we've confirmed over seventeen muggles registered with the Dementor's kiss.'
Amelia closed her eyes for a second, feeling the inevitable onset of a headache.
'How on Morgan's dirty socks did I end up in this mess?'
She knew how of course, but complaining about it was the only thing she could do right now.
It had been a mere two days since their first big step in the war, and things were already going off the kilter. Detonating Azkaban in a fiery flower to lay a solid blow upon Voldemort and his minions had been an ambitious plan. Some might even say too ambitious, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she'd counted herself as being one of them.
That did not mean she felt any happiness in being proven even slightly correct in her misgivings.
While Harry had exceeded her expectations by a large mile—successfully dealing a great blow to the dark Lord—he hadn't planned for the side effects fully. It wasn't truly his fault of course; he'd done the best one could with a timeframe of just two days. But the fact remained: the thing he'd unleashed upon the world was every bit as terrifying as Death Eaters.
And yet, she couldn't blame him any more than she could blame herself. Perhaps it should've been common sense that blowing up Azkaban could have long reaching consequences, but its history had always been shrouded in mystery, giving them no chance to study it in detail. It was only a stroke of fortune that they'd found recorded studies on the fortress of Azkaban whilst scrambling to contain the creatures.
According to the records, before it was converted into a prison, the Fortress had homed one of the darkest wizards to ever exist; Ekrizdis. It was Ekrizdis who first discovered the island, Ekrizdis who built the Fortress, Ekrizdis who practiced the vilest magic under the safety of his Fortress. After his death—for all his darkness, he was still mortal—the various concealment charms upon the island came undone, showing the horrors birthed within it.
The Dementors.
Azkaban was the birthplace to the darkest creature the wizarding World had ever witnessed. Born from the misery and lingering despair of the muggle sailors that Ekrizdis experimented upon, the creatures knew only one home. To destroy it meant to turn its occupants homeless, freeing them from the only place they'd ever inhabited their entire lives.
And now, these homeless—as they'd found out the hard way—were more than happy to carve their new home through the souls of muggles and wizards alike.
Even worse—impossible though it seemed —was the fact that many had outright migrated to their neighboring countries, straining the already shaky relationship that they'd managed to cultivate with other countries.
The only good thing about this was that for some reason Barty Crouch Sn. had yet to pay her a visit to grouch and complain about making his job even more difficult.
But that, unfortunately, wasn't much of a consolation.
Amelia sighed. 'This will need to be solved and fast.'
Every second the Dementors roamed the muggle neighborhoods threatened the secrecy and integrity of their community.
While she didn't doubt Bella's ability to deal with any situation, given time—something they were already pressed for—the simple fact that there was an acute lack of wizards who could cast a Patronus hindered their efforts to resolve the situation quickly.
There was only one other person she truly trusted to get the job done and unfortunately, he was going to attend his first day of school today...
"Minister?" Her secretary's voice beckoned her, giving her a brief reprieve from the stressful situation. "Mr. Potter is here."
Her hand, which had been in the process of picking her coat up, stilled in midair.
Amelia hesitated, glancing at herself. Assured in her privacy, she usually no longer bothered in dressing modestly. Her shirt was unbuttoned to free the burdens of her chest, the large tracts of land on display for any viewer. The underskirt she was wearing couldn't even reach her knees, hugging the curves of her thighs snuggly, and baring her naked legs to the world…
Normally this would be where she quickly tugged her long-coat on, but it was Harry in the end…
'There's nothing of my body that he hasn't seen already.'
She settled back down, refusing to give into the blush that was forcing its way up her neck.
"Send him in!" Amelia called out before she could doubt herself, focusing on the relief she felt at his unexpected visit.
'Now I can dump this all in his lap and let him deal with it.'
The door opened almost instantly at her words, and the young man sauntered in with the easy charm and confidence that always shrouded his entire being.
"You know, I'd appreciate it if your secretary could just get out of the way when she sees me." Harry started as his greeting, before stopping, his eyes roaming her cleavage in casual appreciation. "It'll make my job a lot easier to…sneak in here, if you know what I mean."
Once again, Amelia struggled briefly to push down the rising heat on her ears and neck.
She shook her head in exasperation as the Potter Lord dragged a chair out without permission and made himself comfortable.
"Hello to you too, Harry." Amelia showed her teeth in a sarcastic smile. "Nice weather we have today."
"Naaah." He shook his head. "It's pouring like devil's piss outside."
She looked at him dryly. "Devil's piss? No, you know what? Forget it. Here, take a look at this."
The file of pages slid down the table towards him smoothly.
"Two days since our grand public announcement, and we've successfully managed to unleash a group of undying monsters on the hapless populace. Well done."
Harry frowned, quickly rounding the file to take a look.
She was surprised to see his frown easing up almost immediately, a muted glint of excitement brewing behind his eyes. "This is..."
He cleared his throat, and the excitement dimmed down. "Disastrous. Yes, very disastrous."
Amelia narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
"Hmm?" He glanced up, eyebrows rising innocently. "What could you possibly mean?"
"Harry..." Amelia pinned him under a stern stare... predictably, it had no effect. "Just tell me, please? I don't want another Azkaban mess-up."
He shrugged. "I was just thinking perhaps it's time to properly research a more...permanent solution for the Dementors."
She blinked, the words 'But Dementors can't be killed!' almost out of her tongue before she swallowed them down. Arguing with Harry Potter was a waste of time.
"Just..." She hesitated. "Take care of it, alright? I really can't deal with a new problem erupting now. Everything is happening too fast, and I'm doing my best to keep floating above the pressure."
He looked startled at that, genuine surprise splashing on his face. "Wait, what else is happening?"
Amelia snorted contemptuously, miffed at the ignorance. "You'd know that if you ever bother to visit your new office. The reports are still rotting on your desk."
"Well..." He smirked, pointedly glancing down. "I'd rather hear from your pretty lips."
Amelia felt her ears warming as his eyes dipped much lower than her lips. She tried to give him her practiced glare but it simply wasn't willing to form right now.
His smirk widened even more.
"Fine." She huffed, leaning back as she acquiesced. "Hmm, where to start...? Alright first, know that Grindelwald has added another country to his conquest. We've received quite a few requests for support, as have other countries no doubt, but I doubt anything will come off of it. It took Dumbledore's speech at ICW for us to even have a chance of securing other countries' support. And this for an event they all had a vested interest in. I'm pretty sure Grindelwald will conquer the whole of America if something drastic doesn't happen."
Harry grunted, his eyes closed. "We can't care for them now."
"No." Amelia sighed. "No, we can't. What we do have to care for though..." She dragged the file back from him, turning the pages quickly. "Is the sudden surge of tourists. I really hadn't thought anyone would even dare to step into this country in times like these. But it looks like your popularity drains people's common sense out of their heads. I've received no less than seven requests from schools all around the globe to participate in the upcoming Tri-Wizard tournament. Or well, Quad-Wizard now, with Ilvermorny's addition. And while I don't want to add another one, I'm having a real hard time refusing Uagadou, considering their stellar reputation. Plus, we owe them a great deal for the help their Headmaster gave us."
"Oh pleeeease don't do that." Harry stressed vehemently. "Adding Ilvermorny has already changed things too much. I mean, ah, for us to plan correctly. Just tell them the tasks have already been formed or something. And it's too late to change things now. Oh, and the Goblet of fire has been set already...yeah, that's the most believable one."
Amelia eyes him for a long moment, wondering where his sudden request was coming from.
"Fine." She shook her head. "Alright. Well, you'll be happy to know that I've put Tonks on Permanent Hogwarts duty this year." She tried to say so without letting jealousy infect her tone but considering the amusedly raised eyebrows, she probably failed. "Unfortunately I can't do the same for Stella. She's still undergoing Auror training."
Harry nodded slowly. "That's a shame. I almost thought she's good enough to deserve a level six badge. Though that could just be my pride speaking. She did give me a decent challenge."
"Oh, she is." Amelia readily agreed. "She came close to defeating Shacklebolt yesterday. She also seems to have limited control over Elements, and that alone puts her on Longbottom's level. Not a true Elementalist, but with great potential."
"Why's she not an Auror then?"
"She's still completing Auror training." Amelia reiterated exasperatedly. "There's more to being an Auror than Dueling, you know?"
Harry shrugged. "No, I don't. You just made me their boss for being powerful and famous."
"A lot more than just powerful and famous." Amelia muttered. "Doesn't matter. Now tell me, when will you take active control of the Auror forces?"
Harry rubbed his chin. "Active control..."
"You have to take control whilst they're still charmed by your name, Harry. Otherwise, they won't recognize your authority without you earning it."
"A week from now." He said decisively after a few moments of silence. "Tell them to gather on the field...no, wait. I'll send missives to everyone. Give me a complete list of Aurors, divided by ranks, levels, and experience. And the name of the most rebellious of the bunch. The one who might think I'm a kid and try to undermine my authority."
"Everything will be on your desk." She nodded, the slight smirk she'd built up through his request dropping down at the end. "But why the last one? Are you planning to kick them off?"
"No…I'm planning to make an example out of them."
She hummed, nodding slowly. "I have a list of Aurors and their general nature right here actually. You can study it in your free time."
Amelia got up, moving to the cabinet at the corner. Her mind shook a little when she realized she was giving Harry quite a brazen look at her tiny underskirt.
'Nothing he hadn't seen before.' She reiterated to herself like a mantra.
Steeling her nerves, Amelia cleared her throat. "I do hope you don't use the Aurors placed at Hogwarts for anything...immature."
She opened the cabinet, stacks of files and papers greeting her eyes. "That is not to sa—!"
Her words died off into a yelp as she felt a strong hand slapping her arse.
"Harry..." She growled, but the shameless man continued pinching and squeezing her butt with a fierce intensity, both his hands hard at work.
"You just have to arouse me every time I walk through that door, don't you?" He hissed in her ears, tightly cupping her body with his, one hand coming up to knead her breasts like dough. "You enjoy it, don't you? Making me harder than steel. All for your body…"
"T-that wasn't my intention." Amelia breathed out haltingly, spikes of pleasure quickly drowning her sense of duty. "We have w-work to do, Harry…"
"Yeah," He murmured against her throat, his warm tongue snaking out to lick the curve of her neck, sending tinglings of pleasurous heat burning through her. "We do. And this is one of them. Certainly the most important one, I'd say."
She couldn't hold back her moan any longer as he started rubbing himself against her, their bodies writhing together in pure lust and need.
Amelia had no sense of time, her entire world disappearing in a mixture of pleasure and lust, her only work now trying to keep up with the man currently tearing at her clothes. She refused to be dominated once again! Refused to be left on her desk like a used rag, too weak and tired to walk straight without downing potions.
But as he unbuckled his pants and let his massive shaft fly free from its cage, she knew there was no escaping her fate.
All she could do was bend over her desk and let the beast mount her like he owned her.
The cries and moans of pleasure that blared across the room said it all; for all her complaints, Amelia Bones loved getting boned by her young lover. The hammering he delivered to her cunt always left her in cloud nine, touching the highs she'd never experienced before. And even though the images would disturb her for the rest of the day, she knew she wouldn't regret it. There were few pleasures in life available to her now, and she was desperate to hang onto this one as long as she could.
The desperation to never let him go was acute enough that she'd been reading all about the battles in bed, hoping to win at least one of them…hoping to keep him interested. She couldn't let him win every time. Couldn't let him dominate her like a common whore. After all, he could do the same to thousands of women, younger and fuller than her. What did she bring to the table? Apart from getting bent over it every time, that is. What did she have that other women might not?
The thought was almost depressing. For Amelia Bones was afraid of the last time Harry Potter would mount her. The day when he would decide to end it all, too bored of the old woman to ever look back again.
She had to do something about it.
Thankfully, it looked like she had quite a lot of time, 'cause her lover did not seem to tire of her body for the next seven hours, driving into her with vengeance until the night had fallen, and they both laid on her couch tiredly, unable to move a muscle. In these seven hours, she'd rejected over eight meeting requests, sent away her secretary a dozen times, and had to make sure the wards hadn't broken time and time again due to how loud her screams were.
It was a shame that one of those meeting requests came from her only friend in the Ministry, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.
…Plus, she'd rather die than let Bella see her getting absolutely smashed by her godson's cock.
By the time a hurried Harry left her office, she was sure the entire Ministry was speculating about their Minister's health. She could only hope that no one saw a six foot long, heavily muscled man dressed in Hogwarts robes sneaking past the guards.
Merlin help them all on the day the world finds out about their affair. Either she would join Harry up there as their Messiah's lover, or she'd get demonized and shamed for manipulating their young Savior and everything would come crashing down.
But until then…she was happy to keep getting her world rocked.