Rage. Anger. Fury. Outrage. These were all the same, but Harry Potter was feeling all of them combined at the moment. His invisibility cloak wrapped around his body, hiding him from the sight of everyone, he walked down the corridor in the middle of the night. His magic was swirling around him in waves, emerald rays still visible even when he was actively trying to reign it in.
Harry could feel his fury spike as he thought about the conversation he had just had with the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts. It wasn't some sort of misplaced anger that could be attributed to the immature psyche of a teenager such as him.
Ever since he had come to this world – this great magical world – his life had gone from one hell to another. In the muggle world, he had been a servant and a personal punching bag for his lovely relatives. He had been sick of that life, and his friend Hagrid had come in like a savior. He was introduced to this fantasy world where magic was real. It was his escape from the Dursleys, one he had grasped with open arms.
He had had high hopes. A young child of fourteen, having been abused and neglected all his life, could only imagine the possibilities. Only for all his hopes to evaporate in his very first year at school.
He had thought he would study magic, be free, live like an actual teenager, and have a normal life in general. Oh, how wrong he was!
The very first year he had spent in Hogwarts was taxing. From battling a troll and saving one of his best friends in the process to barely escaping an attempted murder in front of hundreds of witnesses to encountering the shade of his parents' murderer and killing his host. Safe to say, Harry had had his eyes opened.
The second year didn't relent either. It was that crazy elf at first, which was followed by his and Ron's flight to Hogwarts in Mr. Weasley's car and subsequently crashing into the Whomping Willow. If that wasn't enough, the year was fraught with petrifications and Harry being ostracized by the majority of the Hogwarts populace for being the suspected perpetrator. His battle with a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny was terrifying, and so were the subsequent events that had followed. Somehow, he found himself pitted against Voldemort yet again.
Honestly, Harry was sick of it all already, but it seemed like his luck was more rotten than he could've possibly imagined.
The third year started with his encounter with a dementor on the train itself – the earliest his life had been endangered in the magical world. What followed during the year was nothing short of misery. The dementors surrounded Hogwarts, sucking out any joy and rendering everyone gloomy, himself included. He found that a madman who had betrayed his parents had escaped Azkaban to finish him off, only to later discover that he was his godfather who was actually innocent while the real culprit had been masquerading as his friend's pet rat and sharing a dorm with him for the past three years.
So far, not much, he had thought. Only to be proven wrong when he had to undertake a time travel mission to rescue his godfather from having his soul feasted on. That pitted him against over a hundred dementors who he had managed to drive away by his Patronus.
His fourth year had been fraught with challenge after challenge. Harry could admit that his fourth year was perhaps the toughest he had had to endure. From getting abandoned by his friends and ostracized by the entire school to surviving three life-threatening tasks, safe to say Harry Potter had had more than enough for that year. But no! His rotten luck had to shove its head once again.
He had been made to witness the cold-blooded murder of someone he had come to consider a friend. He had been a witness to the resurrection of the dark wizard who had taken everything from him. He had been tortured. He had been humiliated. He had been brought to the brink of death and he had been hit with a killing curse yet again.
Harry didn't know how it happened. After he was hit with the killing curse, apparently, he had been sent back to Hogwarts by the cup which was a portkey alongside Cedric's corpse. He remembered nothing. Only hours later did he come back to consciousness, when he had been informed of what had happened.
Apparently, the minister had buried the entire thing under the rug, denying to believe that Harry had been killed before somehow miraculously surviving yet again. No amount of convincing could sway the ostrich.
It was safe to say that Harry had had the final remnants of his innocence taken away that very night.
And that was how he found himself at the moment, striding through the corridors after curfew.
The school year was about to end, and Harry had visited the headmaster to ask about his living arrangements for the summer. He had been visibly fuming when the old wizard had said in his trademark grandfatherly voice that he had to return to the Dursleys.
Tough shit.
Harry had vehemently declined, threatening drastic actions that the headmaster couldn't afford in the current political climate. He didn't want to, but that was the first thing that had come to his mind. In his anger, he had threatened Dumbledore that he would side with the minister in public and deny Voldemort's return, pinning the blame on the headmaster and his ambition to gain more power.
The headmaster had looked at him with such disappointment that would have made the older Harry bow his head in shame. Not this one. This Harry had lost his childhood. This Harry had gone through years of abuse, neglect, hardship, and torture. This Harry had watched someone innocent get killed in cold blood and this Harry had been killed himself. It was enough now.
The headmaster had no choice but to relent. He had agreed to let Harry live with his godfather, something that pleased Harry to no end. He had nodded at the headmaster and the old man had understood he was not going to apologize for his blackmail.
It was the conversation that followed which put Harry in such a foul mood.
Was it not enough that he had lost his parents? Was it not enough that he had to face such an abusive childhood? Was it not enough that he had to fend for his life every year, all the while enduring the scorn of countless people on the side?
Apparently not. Dumbledore had told him the reason his parents, or more specifically, he had been targeted. A prophecy. A fucking prophecy.
It pissed him off that he was the one who had to carry the burden of killing the wanker. And it pissed him off even more that Dumbledore had done nothing to ensure he was capable, no matter how much, to give him a fight.
Harry had raged at the old man, throwing questions and accusations and Dumbledore took it all with a calmness that was in severe contrast to his own demeanor.
What followed had shaken him to the core, and killed off all the respect he had for the man in front of him. The confession had shattered him.
A piece of that wanker's soul had been inside him!? He was the one who had been keeping that abomination alive!? And Dumbledore had been raising him as a martyr who would sacrifice himself for this bloody Greater Good!? Fuck no!
As Dumbledore confessed, he had known Harry would not have survived. That was why he had not seen any reason why he should have trained him. Not actively seeking his death, the old man wouldn't have interfered if Voldemort had killed him.
That's when it dawned on him. Every fucking year, his brushes with death and Dumbledore doing nothing. It was all because the man thought it was meant to happen. Harry felt sickened, and fearing he would kill the old fossil in his rage, he had bolted, his magic swirling around him in waves as he tried to keep his anger in check. He pulled his cloak over him and stalked through the corridors, his feet taking him somewhere he knew not.
He didn't know how much time had passed while he tried to bring his rage under control. As he walked down the stairs, he realized he was in the dungeons.
With a sigh, he turned around to walk back to the Gryffindor Tower when he saw a slight light coming from one of the rooms. Looking around, he saw all the other rooms were shut. Furrowing his brow, Harry slowly walked forward and peeked in.
The sight inside the room made his blood boil.
A girl was petrified in the middle of the room, and four boys surrounded her. By the looks of it, all of them were Slytherins with one Gryffindor, and Harry was shocked for a moment. All the Slytherins were NEWT students, while the Gryffindor, Cormac Bloody McLaggen, was a fifth year.
"Bloody hell Montague! You really hit the jackpot mate!" McLaggen breathed, ogling her body lecherously as his fingers itched to grope her.
"Oh yeah! A bloody veela! How the fuck did you get her!?" Avery ran his eyes up and down her figure.
Montague smirked.
"Bitch thought she was too tough. Always strutting around the school as if she were someone above us. One stunner at the right moment, and we have our entertainment for the night, boys,"
All four of them snickered.
"You think yourself better, huh, you slut? Thinking you're above us, always so uptight? Well, guess what? You're nothing but a cheap veela whore. Your kind is made to get down on your knees and service upstanding purebloods such as ourselves," Avery smirked.
Fleur had a terrified look on her face. She had been on her way to the carriage after dinner when she suddenly found herself stunned. When she awoke, she found she was petrified, suspended in the air with her arms and legs bound tightly. Looking at them, she knew what was going to come, and she was shivering uncontrollably. These bastards were going to rape her, and Merlin knew whatnot, and she tried to overcome the spell. However, no matter how hard she tried, she found she was unable to even move a muscle.
"Oh, look here boys, looks like the slut is in heat!" Montague guffawed.
"It knows it's going to get plowed to kingdom come tonight, obviously it's excited, bitches in heat always are," Macnair snarked with a nasty look on his face, addressing her like the filthy creature that he considered her.
"What will we do with her after we're done though?" McLaggen asked, "Obviously we can't let her go,"
"Obviously," Montague drawled, "here's the plan for the night, boys," he started, looking around at everyone.
"After we've had our fun for a few hours, we can either torture her until her mind snaps or we get our hands even more bloodied and kill her off," he finished as if it was nothing new.
Fleur's heart started hammering furiously as she listened to this bastard. She was going to be raped and abused and then either go insane or die! She intensified her struggles while the bastard looked at her and laughed.
"It's no use, slut," he grinned lecherously, "these are magic suppression cuffs, bitch. You can do nothing," he whispered, his voice malicious and Fleur's eyes watered.
"Ah. No need to cry, bitch! We'll give you a fun time. We'll take care of all your holes before we get rid of you. Don't worry," McLaggen grinned, and Harry's blood boiled.
"Consider it your initiation test, McLaggen," Avery snarked, "perform tonight and I'm sure the Dark Lord will deem it worthy of a mark in the future,"
McLaggen smirked.
"Oh yeah, our lord is back. Potter might've survived this time but his luck will soon run out. We are the future, boys, and we start taking what we want, starting with this sexy slut right here." Montague grinned.
Harry had heard enough. He was seething as he took in the sight. These cunts had ambushed her and were planning to rape and murder her. They felt so comfortable that they had not even locked the fucking door!
His mind flashed back to the graveyard. The flash of green. Cedric's lifeless body dropping with a thud. His screams of agony as he was tortured. Voldemort's maniacal laugh and the mocking ones of his followers. Another flash of green as his life left his eyes.
'Enough!' he thought. He had had enough of these tyrants. He had had enough of Voldemort and his ideology, and he had had enough of this injustice. If no one was going to do anything, he would gladly do it. It was his responsibility anyway.
That was something to think about later though. Right now, saving Fleur from these cunts was the priority. These assholes were going down, hard.
Harry looked around the room and considered his situation. His cloak still covered him and he silenced his footsteps and entered without touching the door.
Taking a deep breath, he fired stunners in quick succession and quickly moved to the other corner along the wall. Two of his stunners connected and the targets went down in a heap.
"The fuck!?" Avery shouted and Montague and he crouched down and looked around.
"Who the fuck is there? Show yourself!" Montague yelled.
Avery quickly revived the two fallen wizards, who groaned as they woke up.
"Get your wands out, you two. There's someone inside this room," Montague stood up and cast Homonium Revelio but the spell came up with nothing.
"What the fuck!? How is this possible!?"
Meanwhile, Harry was seething as he took the situation in. He had thought of getting all of them in one go but only two went down. And even after that, they were quickly revived. If only he had gone for something more effective than a stunner, he thought, chiding himself.
His anger grew when he took in Fleur's wide-eyed look as her eyes darted from side to side in desperation. He felt something inside him break as he witnessed her hopeful visage as if she had finally seen a ray of sunshine in what was supposed to be the beginning of a future of darkness.
He seethed. Every fucking time, something like this happened. Someone got in danger and he was too hesitant or powerless to do anything about it. If only he had done something, Cedric might've still been alive. Hot rage coursed through his veins. Enough was enough now. He will grow strong, and he will not let anyone else suffer if he could help it.
A faint memory surfaced in his mind, and Harry grasped it with both hands. With a snarl, he threw the cloak off himself and raised his wand. Before the four wizards could even turn around, their heads exploded in a shower of blood and gore.
Intense silence prevailed as four headless bodies dropped on the floor in a heap. Fleur Delacour looked on with wide eyes at the corpses of her would-be assailants before her eyes slowly darted to the wizard standing in front of the wall, his eyes angry and his wand smoking.
Harry looked at the four carcasses with a sense of detachment before what he had just done dawned on him. He staggered back slightly, his back hitting the wall and his wand dropped to the floor with a soft clatter. He had just committed murder. Admittedly he had killed previously. Quirrell and the basilisk came to mind, but this was actual murder, from his own wand.
He breathed heavily as his mind processed everything that just happened. He had cast an unknown spell, and their heads exploded. Where did he know such a spell!? How the hell did he cast it!? He had never heard of a spell like that. His head throbbed in pain and he closed his eyes.
Flashes came and went through his mindscape, knowledge, and ideas previously unknown to him finally assimilating and he employed his occlumency to its full extent. What felt like hours but was only a minute or two in reality passed before Harry opened his eyes. His emerald pools were glowing, his visage no longer that of a shellshocked teenager as he looked at Fleur.
Quickly, he rushed over to her and levitated her back on the ground, and got rid of her bindings.
"Finite," he muttered, getting rid of her petrification. No sooner had he done that than Fleur collapsed against his chest, clutching him hard and sobbing uncontrollably.
"Merci, merci, merci…" her constant mantra rang through the room as Harry simply held her in his arms and let her cry. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back softly. Minutes passed and they simply stood there in a close embrace, and slowly, her sobs subsided before she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red eyes.
"Merci, 'Arry," she whispered.
"I only did what I should've done, Fleur," he whispered.
"Scum like these," he looked at the dead bodies with scorn, "they don't deserve to breathe the air we do. After I heard what their intentions were, my only regret is I couldn't prolong their suffering," he hissed.
Fleur looked at him with sad eyes. Here was a young man, younger than her, but he had already undergone so many hardships in such a short span of time, and she felt her heart ache for him. As she looked into his intense eyes, she shivered before pulling away.
Harry frowned at the feeling of loss when she pulled out of his arms. Shaking his head, he looked at the bodies of the four cunts before looking back at her.
Fleur gave him a small smile.
"After what you've done for me 'Arry, the least I can do is not betray you like that. I will never tell a soul about this," she promised. Harry nodded.
"And your mind? Is it safe from a legilimens?"
Fleur nodded.
"My papa trained me, 'Arry, don't worry,"
Harry smiled slightly before looking back at the bodies.
"What should we do with them?"
"Let me handle this," Fleur said before she steeled herself. She brandished her rosewood wand and waved it in front of her. Harry saw crimson fire erupt from the tip of her wand and trailed his gaze down to the floor. The fire covered all the bodies, blood, and gore before everything was slowly consumed. As Fleur ended the spell, he saw the entire floor was spotless, with no indication that four dead bodies had been mutilated right there.
Fleur saw him looking at her and smiled slightly.
"The Flames of –"
"Purification," Harry finished for her, and she looked at him, surprised.
"You know this spell?"
Harry nodded, not bothering to elaborate.
"It's not a spell found in your regular spell books, you must be fairly advanced to know of it," she remarked, looking at him with slight surprise.
Harry rubbed his cheek, "You can say that,"
Fleur simply smiled.
"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, smiling up at him, and Harry sighed.
"I told you I only did what was right,"
"Doesn't matter, if you hadn't stepped in, who knows what…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath.
"Anyway, I'm in your debt, Harry. In the future, it would be my honor if I could help you out in any manner. Please remember that I'll be there to help you out if you need me,"
"I didn't do this for some future favor, Fleur," he frowned, and Fleur chuckled.
"I know you didn't. But magic has recognized my debt toward you, and I'm honor bound to come to your aid,"
Harry looked at her for a moment, confused. Fleur noticed and asked, "You're not aware of life debts?"
Harry still looked confused before comprehension dawned on his face.
"Ahh… I understand,"
Fleur looked at him with concern.
"Are you okay, Harry?"
"Huh?"
"You're… spacing out a bit," Fleur frowned.
Harry's eyes widened slightly before he gave her a small smile.
"It's just been a long day, nothing to worry about,"
Fleur nodded. A few moments passed and they simply stood there, awkwardly looking at each other before diverting their gazes.
"It's late. We should be going."
Fleur started before she nodded.
"Uh… yeah, right," she agreed, patting her dress and brushing some lingering dust off.
Fleur looked at him for a moment before giving him a soft smile as they walked out of the room and walked up the stairs. Once they reached the entrance hall, they stopped and turned to face each other.
"I'll see you tomorrow before we leave?" She asked in a soft whisper, and Harry smiled at her.
"I'll be there," he nodded. Fleur looked at him for a moment before closing the distance between them. It happened too fast for Harry to comprehend; however, he was quick to reciprocate her kiss. Their lips moved together, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry held her by the waist and pulled her closer as he deepened their kiss. He could sense her desperation, her need, and he found he didn't mind fulfilling it.
It was over too soon for his liking, and Harry found himself looking at her flushed face. Her face was red, and he believed he was faring no better.
"Thank you, Harry…" she murmured, and Harry dipped his head to capture her lips once again. Fleur's eyes widened for a second before they closed as she surrendered herself. Harry pulled her flush against him as they kissed, his hands stroking her back and her sides as Fleur softly moaned into the kiss.
Slowly, they pulled away and rested their foreheads together. Their eyes remained shut as they took deep breaths to calm their racing hearts down.
"I'll be there tomorrow," he whispered, and Fleur nodded.
"I'll see you then,"
Reluctantly, they pulled back and looked at each other. With a nod, Harry turned around and walked out of the entrance hall. Fleur watched his retreating back for a moment before shaking her head and making her way toward the carriage with a soft smile. The veela inside her was rejoicing, and she realized she might have found the perfect partner for herself.
XXXXX
The year ended with little fanfare. The only notable event that happened was when Dumbledore announced that four wizards were missing from the school. He didn't disclose their names but declared that they would be punished when the school reopened for leaving the premises before the year was over. Harry had glanced at Fleur and found she had been looking back at him. They shared small smiles before going normal.
The delegates left the school in the evening, and the year ended the next day. Harry sat in the compartment with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He was leaning with his back against the window and his eyes closed as he reminisced the kiss he had shared with Fleur that night as well as the evening before. A soft smile made its way to his face as he recalled the adorable look on her face as they kissed before she had to say goodbye. He had a feeling they would meet again.
Ginny and Hermione looked at his smiling face for a moment before they turned to each other with confused looks on their faces.
"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked as she scooted closer to him. She saw Ginny do the same on the opposite seat. Ron turned toward them for a moment before going back to his sleep.
Harry opened his eyes and looked at Hermione and Ginny.
"Nothing. Just a feeling that good times are ahead."
Hermione exchanged a look with Ginny before looking at him with concern.
"Harry, Vo-vol-voldemort is back," she whispered, while Ginny shuddered slightly at the name.
"Yeah, he is," he agreed, "but we will win, Hermione, I'm sure of it," he smiled at the two of them before closing his eyes and leaning back against the window. Hermione exchanged a surprised look with Ginny who looked back at her with a smile. Both of them agreed that it was a very good thing that Harry was optimistic about the whole scenario.
XXXXX
The crimson train slowly came to a halt. Amid the usual crowd, Harry and his group of friends made their way out of the train. Instantly spotting the familiar head of Mrs. Weasley, the quartet walked toward her.
Ron and Ginny hugged their mother before Fred and George greeted her with their usual jokey banter. Mr. Weasley came over and greeted his children and Hermione before giving him a soft pat on his back.
"Oh, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley remarked, embracing him tightly. Harry returned her hug, squeezing her softly before pulling away.
"Now, the headmaster has told us about your new living arrangements. I would've preferred if you had come to our home instead, Harry," she said, looking up at him.
Harry smiled.
"You wishing to have me is more than enough, Mrs. Weasley," Harry remarked, "but I want to spend some time with him as well, I hope you understand," he finished with a smile.
Mrs. Weasley frowned for a moment before she nodded with a smile.
"Come then, Arthur will take you to your new home," she whispered. They joined his friends and made their way out of the platform and into the muggle part of the station.
Harry had already sent a letter to his relatives, telling them not to bother picking him up anymore, and he was happy to see the utter lack of human waste outside the station.
Hermione bid them goodbye and walked over to join her parents near the exit. The two families waved and nodded at each other before walking to the nearby alley.
"Molly, you take the kids home. I'll be back after dropping Harry," Mr. Weasley remarked before looking at him and frowning.
"Wait a minute, Harry, where's your trunk?"
Harry smiled before fishing his shrunk trunk out of his pocket. Mr. Weasley nodded with a smile.
"Good thinking,"
He asked him to grab his arm, and as Harry did so, he felt the world around him disappear for a moment before the most uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a narrow tube washed over him. As soon as it began, it was over.
He hunched over slightly; his breathing ragged as Mr. Weasley rubbed his back softly.
"It's always rough in the beginning. Don't worry, you'll get used to it in no time,"
Harry simply coughed and nodded.
"Here, read this quickly," Mr. Weasley passed him a piece of parchment, and Harry took it and read.
'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is situated at #12 Grimmauld Place'
Suddenly, a new house materialized in front of them, and Mr. Weasley took the parchment back from him and burned it.
"Quickly, Harry, get inside," Mr. Weasley urged him, and Harry buried the multitude of questions he had to follow him inside.
The house, if one could call it that, was nothing short of pathetic. He felt like he had been brought into a hovel. There was no brightness inside, the lamp was lit dimly, and he had to squint to look at anything in front of him.
"Don't mind the decoration, Harry," Mr. Weasley muttered.
"What is this place, Mr. Weasley?"
"The house of the Blacks. Can't believe it, can you?"
He certainly couldn't. The Blacks were one of the most powerful families in the Wizarding World a few years ago. This place looked pathetic. Clearly, the once-mighty house had taken a massive fall.
He looked around at the walls and the ceiling. Everything was pathetic. He sighed. It didn't matter. He was free of the Dursleys and got to live with his godfather, that was more than enough.
Suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opened. The moment Harry saw him, a large smile came upon his face and he strode forward. The man's eyes brightened before he grabbed him in a crushing hug.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that the last time we met," Sirius whispered as he held Harry at an arm's length, looking him up and down. Harry smiled.
"Come on, you must be hungry,"
The next few hours were spent talking. Harry was informed about the Order and what its purpose was. However, he quickly understood that the Order was still in the beginning phase, gathering members, and in no way equipped to take to the frontlines.
Sirius told him about the house, and how it was the last place he wanted to live in. However, circumstances had forced him to hole himself up in there. He told him how the place was also the headquarters of the Order, and how he could expect a few additional guests to join them there over the upcoming weeks. Harry had no issues, as long as he was left to his devices.
He had realized how massive an opportunity this was. The Blacks were notoriously accomplished, and they were bound to have facilities to practice magic as well as a collection of books. When he mentioned this to Sirius, the man had simply laughed before taking him on a tour of the house.
Harry didn't find many notable things; however, he was rendered impressed with the library. Sirius had cautioned him about some books that were too dark, and Harry had promised him that he would be careful.
The training area was right beside the library in the basement, a massive open arena that covered almost the entire floor.
"We can train here," Sirius remarked.
"We?"
"Yeah. It would only be helpful if I get back to my form,"
Harry nodded.
"Dumbledore told me you are an accomplished occlumens," Sirius said.
"He did, did he?"
"Don't worry, I reprimanded him for peeping in that night," Sirius looked at him, "did something else happen between you two?"
Harry frowned.
"Let's just say I had to use some underhanded means to make him relent,"
Sirius sighed.
"Look Harry, I won't ask what happened. I have trust in you, that you won't do it without valid reasons, but don't forget we need the man on our side. Our enemy is common, and we have to work together,"
Harry turned back to the man as he took a couple of leather-bound books from the library and tucked them under his arms.
"They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend," Harry muttered, looking up at the ceiling.
Sirius looked at him.
"I disagree," Harry pulled his eyes and stared at his godfather, "the enemy of my enemy is my ally at best, nothing else,"
Sirius looked at him for a moment before nodding.
"That will do,"
"Goodnight, Sirius," Harry bid him as they walked out of the basement.
"Night, Harry,"
Harry made his way inside Regulus Black's old room, now his, and laid down on the bed. Pulling out a book, he opened it and glanced at the title.
'Esoteric Arts: Bonds and Rituals'
"Interesting, I don't have any information from this one," he muttered and turned the page.
XXXXX
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