There were still lingering flames, but Harry felt cold. Cold and numb. Blood dripped from the fingers of his mangled left hand, but it was his right hand the Aurors were focused on; the one holding his wand.
"D-Drop it," Dolohov said. "You're hurt and outnumbered. If you really did nothing wrong, there's no reason not to come with us."
"And who decides that? Whether I have done something… wrong?"
It was unconscious, but as he spoke, Harry mimicked the cadence he heard most growing up. The last word sounded like a hiss, and the pause preceding it forced a flinch out of the gathered Aurors. For a moment, Harry had sounded exactly like their master.
But the marks on their arms weren't tingling. This was not Voldemort, and though he was fierce, he was not the one they couldn't dare to go against.
"Wizengamot decides," Dolohov said. "T-That's the law. When one of its members is arrested, the council convenes to decide guilt. If you do not comply, we have been authorized to use force—"
Harry tuned the man out. He looked into the distance, toward his house atop its hill. He barely spared a glance for these Aurors. They were too nervous. Not properly trained, spaced too close together, it wouldn't be impossible to eliminate them. It might not even be difficult.
Then what?
When he squinted, Harry saw more red robes climbing toward his home. The wards would stall them, but if he fought back now, a few wards could not hold back all those who would come for him. He had no way of escaping with Fleur and Susan. The few survivors from Godric's Hollow would be slain. They would disappear, leaving Ginny and the other blood traitors in Crouch's grasp. Daphne would lose the connection she just made. Narcissa… Harry wasn't sure what her reaction would be, but he knew it would be extreme. Even worse, nothing would change.
The emporium would keep selling slaves. Muggle villages would keep burning. Nothing would change, no matter how many Aurors Harry killed on his way out.
"Are you listening to me? Drop the wand, Potter!"
Finally, Harry looked back at Dolohov. The man immediately flinched. When Harry let go of his wand, allowing it to hit the ground, five of the Aurors visibly sighed with relief.
"Go on," Harry said. "Take me in then."
The instincts he'd been instilled with screamed at him to fight. To take his life into his own hands, and escape by himself if he had to, damning the rest.
But Harry refused. That was who he was trained to be. Now, he was trying to be someone different.
Someone who could believe in trust.
O-O-O
The room they brought him to was quiet, and it had been for the six hours since he arrived. Harry thought it was located near the Wizengamot Chambers, but you would never guess that from the room itself. Deep inside the earth, presumably as old as the Ministry itself, its cold cobblestones were lit by nothing but a single floating candle.
Harry's legs were crossed. His wand had been taken, but the Aurors were too cowardly to let it leave his sight. Harry could see it now, sitting atop his folded robes, just outside the bars of his cell. Harry was wearing nothing but the pants and shirt he'd been wearing beneath his robes. The Aurors said it was to make sure he wasn't hiding a spare wand. Harry knew the truth: his robes had been stained with Alecto Carrow's blood and viscera, frightening the Aurors more than they knew how to handle.
Footsteps approached. Harry wondered who was here to mock him. However, when they arrived on the other side of the bars, Harry reassessed his judgement. If this person were here to poke fun at his situation, that would be an odd twist of fate— even odder than their presence deep within the ministry.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Harry said.
"Nor did I expect to discover you in a cell after your sudden departure from our conversation." Blaise Zabini crossed his arms, still dressed exactly as he had been at the Emporium. "Hard day?"
"Harder than some, easier than others." Harry tilted his head. "Last I checked, you were not employed by the Ministry, nor do you sit on Wizengamot. How are you here?"
"They had a witch guarding the door, and she was helpless against my smile," Blaise said. "Unless you're asking how I knew that you would be here. To that I can only say… connections. Money doesn't talk, but it sure can move the lips of men."
Harry accepted that without comment. Corruption in the Ministry was hardly news, nor was it surprising to find one of Britain's richest young men had close 'friends'.
"What do you want from me?" Harry asked. "My hands are a bit full at the moment."
"I know. What a predicament." Blaise sighed. "Before the day is out you'll be standing before Wizengamot. The fact that things have come this far means people who really don't like each other like you even less. They'll get to argue your guilt, and the representatives on your side can argue your innocence. Not that it matters. Nearly everyone will know how they're voting before they step inside that room." Blaise wagged his finger. "It's not about if you committed a crime. What is a crime in this lovely country of ours? It's about who has more power. Will you be alright?"
"I am not alone," Harry said.
Blaise cast an eye around Harry's cell. "You look pretty alone to me. But I'm being difficult. That's not the point, and we both know it. What matters is how many friends you have in the room you'll be entering in fifteen minutes. It only takes a majority of votes to convict you. You must have half of the assembly on your side, otherwise…" Blaise slid a thumb over his throat.
"Thank you for the refresher," Harry said. "I'm aware of the stakes. But come the end of the day, I will be walking free."
"Really?" Blaise asked.
"Without doubt."
Blaise leaned down. The lone candle above Harry lit his face, casting a shadow past his long chiseled nose. He smiled brightly, his white teeth shining against his dark skin.
"I don't believe you," he said. "Maybe you do walk out of that room alive. But there's certainly doubt." He inhaled deeply. "I can smell it."
He stood up, and just like that the brief manic impression he'd left utterly evaporated. Blaise cleared his throat.
"Either way, I'm not here to speculate on your chances. We were in the middle of conducting a deal when things got interrupted. Your support, in return for my demolition of— how did you describe it? The blight of the slave business. It's a decent deal… If you can follow through on what you say. So let today be the test. If Wizengamot protects you, we will officially be allies. And if you're head rolls." Blaise offered another shrug. "Then you weren't worth the time I wasted on you."
They stared at each other, Harry cross-legged in a cell while Blaise stood on the other side as a free man. Yet despite Blaise holding every advantage, it somehow felt as though he were the one being judged.
"I look forward to doing business with you," Harry said.
Blaise snorted. The snort grew into a throaty laugh, which was still ongoing when Bellatrix Lestrange arrived a moment later, flanked on either side by Aurors.
"Strange," Bellatrix said. "I told the guards to let Noneenter."
"A simple misunderstanding," Blaise said, laying a hand on his chest and bowing. "You see, None is actually my middle name…"
Bellatrix giggled. She was in a good mood today.
"Certainly Sofia's son," she said. "How is she doing? Still spreading her legs for Galleons? Compared to Knockturn's whores, she's managed to get somewhere in the world."
"Quite far, yes," Blaise said. Hearing his mother called a prostitute didn't even make his smile twitch. "I'm unsure how she's doing, frankly. She was in Italy at the time of our great victory. The two of us haven't spoken since."
"Well, we can hardly expect cowards that hedged their bets to be allowed back in, can we?" Bellatrix said pleasantly.
"Naturally," Blaise said. "National security must come first."
He stepped as far away as the hallway would allow, practically sinking into the shadows. Bellatrix let him go, turning her attention to her primary target.
"Potter," she said. "You look worse than when I saw you yesterday."
Harry didn't answer, nor move.
"You told me you'd have a gift the next time you saw me." Bellatrix's eyes were full of delight. "Where is it?"
"I didn't have time to prepare it. This came up sooner than I was expecting."
"Hilarious how that works," Bellatrix said— then, to prove she thought so, began to cackle madly.
The Aurors with her came forward and opened his cell. Harry was hauled to his feet and dragged forward. Bellatrix walking in front, Harry and the Aurors a step behind her, they began the journey to the courtroom. As he limped along with them, something pricked the back of his pants. The Aurors didn't notice, but his wand slipped into his back pocket. Harry looked back, just barely, and watched Blaise lower his own wand. Harry's enhanced ears caught Blaise's muttered words.
"Call my mother a whore again, bitch," he whispered with the same unflinching smile.
Harry was forcibly brought to the old grand doors of Wizengamot. The Aurors released him on the threshold, allowing him to move forward of his own volition. Bellatrix went first, expecting him to follow. Which he did. They entered the chamber of Britain's highest assemblage.
They were early. Bellatrix took pleasure in positioning Harry on the middle of the floor as if he were a display, but Harry was looking only at the representatives who had already arrived.
There were just a handful. Harry saw Andros Parkinson, Pansy's father, avoiding looking at him. Eleanor Shafiq, the Shafiq representative, was nearby. She looked directly at Harry, not in a supportive way but in a critical one, openly judging if he was still worthy of her family's support.
These two and the other few random representatives weren't what held Harry's attention. They were bit players compared to the two who were sitting together a few rows back.
Corban Yaxley on the left. Barty Crouch Junior on the right. Rubbing shoulders.
Harry wasn't sure if he should sigh or growl. There was what went so wrong. Crouch was free to send his forces after Harry because Yaxley agreed to it. From the start, the attack had been nothing but an excuse to bring him here.
Harry had moved too quickly. He'd been too active. At some point, Yaxley had deemed him — a new opponent — a bigger threat than Crouch, the opponent he already knew. Crouch offered Harry a sardonic wave.
More representatives funneled in. Amycus Carrow looked murderous, his face a mess from tears as he led Ginny, Neville, and Hannah behind him. He met Harry's eyes with a livid glare, but Harry looked apathetically back at him. That only enraged the man more.
While seats filled there was one glaring omission. No matter how much time passed, Lucius Malfoy failed to appear. He was the only living member of the Inner Circle not present, and as something once approaching the man's adopted son, Harry knew that it wasn't like him to be un-punctual.
A mere moment before the trial would begin, the Malfoy representative arrived. Some representatives gasped.
Narcissa Malfoy stood in the doorway, dressed in stunning light-green dress robes, her blond hair intricately braided like a queen's. Beside her, looking at the floor but no less beautifully dressed, was Susan.
"My husband has fallen ill," Narcissa announced. "In accordance with the 1657 Substitutes Act, as Lady of the House of Malfoy, I will act as his surrogate." She walked into a room she'd struck silent without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Come along, Representative Bones."
Harry had to fight to keep down a bout of incredulous laughter.
O-O-O
One hour earlier, five hours after the attack on Godric's Hollow.
Fleur Delacour was full of fiery rage. It burned just as hot as the flames that consumed Godric's Hollow. A child was crying in the dining room, its mother too shell shocked to comfort it.
"Can you help her, Dobby?" Susan said.
Harry's house elf offered a salute and disappeared.
The elf had been running around the house helping refugees from the village all afternoon. He kept calling it 'overtime,' which Fleur couldn't make sense of. Not that she was paying much attention if she were being honest.
This world was rotten— she knew that. But hiding away in Harry's home, she'd not been exposed to it for too long. Things had been going too well. Now, Harry had been taken. He surrendered. To protect them and the rest of the Godric's Hollow survivors, if Fleur's guess was correct.
She was just standing in the living room, holding her wand. Susan was sitting on the couch. The two of them had barely been speaking for a long time, lost inside their own minds.
"He'll go on trial at Wizengamot," Susan said. "They're out to get him. Yaxley must have done it."
Fleur nodded silently.
"I… Should I go?" Susan's voice was weak and strained. "He— He saved me. I should go, right? I've got a vote…"
"And if it is not enough?" Fleur said. "Will you be able to leave the Ministry again, without Harry to protect you?"
Fleur wished she knew what he wanted. What was the right choice now? She had never been weak, but neither was she accustomed to being in charge. Susan was looking to her for support. Ginny had tried to get in touch. But this wasn't a duel, and Fleur just didn't know what to do.
"I should go," Susan repeated weakly to herself, unconsciously rubbing her bruised neck.
The front door flew open. Fleur's wand was up in an instant, but all that earned was a dismissive look as Narcissa Malfoy — one of the few people in all of Britain who was keyed into the wards — marched past the foyer.
"You certainly will be going if you have any kind of pride at all, Susan Bones," Narcissa declared.
Fleur let her wand fall back to her side. It wasn't because she recognized the woman so much as she recognized the look in Narcissa's eyes. Narcissa was livid. So much so that for Fleur, it was like looking into a mirror.
"I've heard everything," Narcissa said, refusing to waste time sharing her sources. "Harry went with them of his own volition. Are you aware of what that means?"
"That he was trapped," Susan muttered.
Narcissa took one step and stomped Susan's foot. Susan cried out. Fleur's wand aimed at Narcissa again.
"Do not hurt her," Fleur said.
Narcissa regarded Fleur, including her wand, and stepped away again. That didn't stop her from looking at Susan like dirt.
"What it means is that he is trusting us!" Narcissa said. "Relying on us! So do not dare sit around moping like a common fool! We will be there in Wizengamot, and we will ensure he walks free!"
"We?" Susan still looked frightened, but not so much that she couldn't speak. "You're not on Wizengamot."
"Not ordinarily," Narcissa said. "But my husband experienced a sudden downturn in his health after lunch. He's in no condition to attend. As his lawfully appointed second, I'm well within my rights to attend in his stead."
"You did it," Fleur realized. "You've poisoned him. Or cursed him somehow."
"Leave useless comments for later," Narcissa said. "How many votes do you have? Out with it quickly."
Harry had mentioned to Fleur that Narcissa puzzled him. He believed she was loyal to him, but he couldn't understand where that devotion stemmed from. Fleur understood his feelings now. The lack of a motive led Harry to keep her at a distance, excluding her from some of his plans.
But for Narcissa to be here now, Fleur couldn't question her loyalty. They needed her. So Fleur told her everything.
"The Shafiq and Rowle votes are ours. Weasley, Longbottom, and Abbott will help if they can. Greengrass…" Fleur recalled Daphne's face as she and Harry were locked together. "...will also be loyal. With you and Susan on his side, we have eight votes."
"Is that all you've done?" Narcissa asked, her arms crossed.
Fleur knew immediately what she was asking.
"Alecto Carrow is dead with no time for a replacement. Gibbon is also dead. We killed Selwyn weeks ago."
Slowly, Narcissa smiled.
"So they've lost three votes," she said. "Perfect. We can work with that. Come!"
She jerked her head, issuing the sharp order to Fleur. Fleur hesitated, then followed the woman. Right now, time was the thing they lacked most.
"I will be back soon," Narcissa told Susan. "Freshen up. I expect to find a proper representative when I return, not a young girl whinging on a couch."
She marched out of the house as suddenly as she entered, assuming Fleur would follow. Before doing so, Fleur addressed Susan.
"Do it. Please," Fleur said. "In this situation, unpleasant as she may be, that woman is our best chance."
"I understand," Susan said, looking blankly across the room.
Fleur hoped Susan would listen. Stepping outside, she reached the place where Narcissa was impatiently waiting.
"The Apparition Wards have weakened," Narcissa said. "We can do it from here."
"But where are we going?" Fleur asked.
"Bulstrode Manor," Narcissa said. "Come along."
She Disapparated, leaving Fleur to follow.
To call the house they arrived at a 'manor' was an exaggeration. It was roughly the size of a large townhome. As Narcissa led the way up to its door, Fleur's longer strides allowed her to catch up.
"What are we here for?" Fleur asked.
"To save our master," Narcissa said. "The votes you have amassed total to eight. Even without those that have died, your enemies have nine. That will not do. You must have half. Do you understand now?"
Fleur looked at the house in front of them. It was clearly magical because she could sense wards, albeit ones so weak that they offended her skills as an ex-Curse-Breaker.
Bulstrode was a name from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. For them to be here now…
Narcissa stopped just outside the ward line.
"Eliminate him," she spat. "If you do, I will handle the rest. We will not lose here. I won't accept it!"
She Disapparated again, returning to Harry's home to prepare herself and Susan. Fleur took a deep breath. Her stomach still churned with rage, but she harnessed it now, using it for fuel like a furnace. She no longer felt lost. Now, Fleur had a target. She was back in her element.
She cracked the wards like an egg beneath her boot. As she approached the house that lay behind them, the door flew open.
The man that rushed out had clearly been interrupted halfway through freshening up. He wore fancy dress robes, but they were askew, the collar not properly fastened, leaving his hairy upper chest visible. He was at least six foot two and built more like a rugby player than a wizard. His lower jaw was a touch crooked, lending to the ugly ape-like impression his pale face gave off. His wand was in his hand, a harsh-looking and unusually sharp stick of Hawthorn wood.
"You. I've seen you," said the Bulstrode patriarch. "You were a slave from the auction. An expensive one." He licked his lips, finally noticing Fleur's wand. "Where's your master, little girl? How are you armed? Answer quickly now."
Fleur's answer was to point her wand at him.
Bulwin Bulstrode started to laugh.
"I fought in both wars on the front lines, little girl. The Dark Lord himself recognized me as one of his fiercest followers. You think you can duel me?" He leered at her. "Give up now, and I'll make sure you get a nice reward before I turn you in. I doubt they care too much about your condition. They won't notice if you come back slightly more used…"
Fleur opened the duel with a castration hex.
O-O-O
Back in Wizengamot.
Narcissa Malfoy took her seat with the aura of a queen. She crossed her legs when she sat, observing the room. Many seemed shocked, but only Bellatrix looked amused.
"Sister!" Bellatrix said. "What a surprise! Those robes look wonderful on you."
"And you look lovely as well," Narcissa said. "The Chief Warlock position suits you."
"Mhm. I'm sure you say the exact same thing when I'm not in the room, Cissy."
"Are you implying I would lie, Bella?"
Bellatrix cackled. Narcissa's expression stayed utterly innocent. Actually, that was probably what caused Bellatrix's mirth.
"If you ladies don't mind, we ought to get this started, wouldn't you say?" Crouch said.
His charming smile had no effect as Bellatrix glared at him.
"Fine," Bellatrix said. "If you're so eager to talk…" She waved her wand, creating a resounding bang throughout the room. "In session!"
The great horned owl swept off its perch beside her, landing on Crouch's forearm. He started by shedding a tear. Of all the skills Harry expected the coldhearted man to possess, crying on command wasn't among them.
"The dear, delightful Alecto Carrow is no longer with us," Crouch said. "She was murdered. And the one who did it stands in front of you. There were warning signs! Many among this assembly watched him threaten her just outside those doors. This crime was premeditated—"
Having the owl on your arm was a sign that you alone were allowed to speak. However, the newest Chief Warlock was hardly one to put stock in tradition. Bellatrix yawned, then cut him off.
"So boring, Crouch," she said. "There's no point in a sob story. At the end of the day, Alecto was weak, no? That's why she died picking a fight she couldn't finish."
"Alecto carried good blood in her veins," Yaxley said severely. "Blood that cannot be passed to the next generation now."
Proper decorum was rapidly being forgotten. Although the owl remained on Crouch's arm, Narcissa answered Yaxley.
"If her blood is that important, perhaps she should not have risked it intruding on another's territory," she said.
"Picking a fight, losing, and crying about it certainly does seem pathetic," Bellatrix cackled.
"Shut up!" shouted Amycus Carrow.
He started to rise, going for his wand. Bellatrix was twice as fast, aiming hers at his head. But she wasn't the only one who was quicker than the remaining Carrow.
Ginny Weasley, sitting one row back from him, pressed her wand tip against his neck.
"Does picking stupid fights run in your family?" she asked.
"Ah. I see," said Crouch quietly, looking at the remnants of Dumbledore's faction. "I've been too lenient, and they've gotten Ideas. There's work to do after this."
"Sit down, Carrow," Yaxley said derisively.
"But—"
"SIT. DOWN!" Yaxley screamed, spittle flying from his lips.
That managed to reduce the room to silence again. Harry snorted quietly to himself. Just like that, the mask slipped.
Yaxley tried to readopt his usual aloofness. It was rather ineffective, given what they had all just heard from him.
"I see how this is going to go," he said, looking around the room. His eyes settled on Narcissa. "You're doing everything in your paltry power to help Potter. I don't know why, but you've staked everything on a losing gamble. You still can't beat us."
"Is that so?" Narcissa said.
Yaxley straightened his collar. "It's simple arithmetic. Even with all that you've done, we outnumber you."
He wasn't bothering with pretenses anymore. It was all about factions, just as Blaise predicted. Who owed loyalty to whom was all that mattered, not any kind of crime or guilt.
Narcissa wove her fingers together and smiled at Yaxley.
"That will be true… once Representative Bulstrode arrives," Narcissa said. "Shall we wait for him?"
Based on Bellatrix's laughter, there was a joke there that only the sisters understood.
O-O-O
Fleur felt the heat of the fire around her each time she breathed in. Bulstrode Manor was burning to the ground, and standing on its porch, she relished the scent. She breathed in deeply, welcoming even the smell of the smoke. The scent was no different than back at Godric's Hollow, but that was the beauty of fire. It didn't discriminate.
Lady Bulstrode's body lay not far away, half-consumed by the flames. She had rushed to help her husband, but she didn't last long. Millicent, the couple's adult daughter, lay on her back, seeing nothing as her glassy eyes looked straight up. Her hands were limp against a wound on her stomach.
Bulwin Bulstrode had not been all bluff. He was indeed tough, evidenced by the fact that he still drew breath. Fleur had a deep cut on her shoulder, and one of her legs was badly burned beneath the calf. Both wounds would require medical attention.
Unfortunately for Bulwin, his best efforts had not been enough.
On his knees, Bulwin panted. Each breath had a wet tinge to it, hinting at a punctured lung. His burns were twice as bad as Fleur's and spread all across his body.
"You… will… suffer… slave…" he rasped.
Summoning all the blood he could, he spat it onto Fleur's foot. Her cutting curse chopped his head off. She watched the body slump to one side, the head falling in another direction. Before long, the flames had consumed the scene.
O-O-O
After fifteen minutes of tense waiting, Narcissa unclasped her hands.
"Oh dear," she said. "It seems he's not coming."
Bellatrix howled.