Year 7-20: Distraction Tactics

"Are you alright, Harry? You look rather anxious."

"Hmm?" said Harry, glancing up from his homework in the library. "I'm fine, Luna. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Luna hummed, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she hovered over his table. "Your energy is just intense right now. I could sense it from across the room."

"I'm just tired, that's all," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Nothing you need to worry about. But thank you for asking."

"That is understandable," Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Given all the responsibilities you have. Well, I hope you are able to find rest."

"Me too," Harry grumbled. "Would you like to sit with me?"

"Oh, no thank you," Luna smiled politely. "I promised Gellert I would meet him for an afternoon meditation session. See you, Harry!" And the girl skipped off, looking and acting as though she hadn't a care in the world. As always, Harry felt a pang of worry for the girl, so pure and innocent in such close proximity to a dangerous maniac like Grindelwald. But somehow, Luna's instincts always proved correct in the end, so he had no choice but to trust her in this regard.

Case in point: she was absolutely right that Harry was stressed. The operation the previous week had gone off without a hitch – the Lestranges were dead, Neville was the presumed culprit according to the Prophet, the Cup of Hufflepuff was destroyed via Fiendfyre back at Raven House, and nobody had noticed Harry's absence from the castle. But Harry remained terrified that things could all come crashing down in an instant. What if the murders were traced back to him? What if Ragnok the Ruthless reneged on his deal and sold him out? What if Grindelwald regained his full strength and made his move against Harry too early? What if Voldemort realized his horcruxes were in danger and moved the remaining ones out of reach?

Normally he would vent these fears to Fleur in the evenings via enchanted diary, but he could not do so at the moment. She had taken another visit home to France to visit her family, leaving the diary behind, and Harry was unsure when she would return. He didn't realize how much he'd relied upon her as a sounding board until that was no longer an available option. He would simply have to do without her words of wisdom and comfort for now, and continue on as if he hadn't a fear in the world.

So Harry attended his classes, even though he already knew the material. He studied for his N.E.W.T. exams, even though he knew he was unlikely to still be enrolled as a student by the time they were administered in June. He doled out detentions to unruly teenagers, which felt pointlessly punitive compared to the death and destruction he'd witnessed (and caused) outside the castle. It all felt so arbitrary and worthless, like some intricate charade he was performing for little benefit.

But he knew deep down that maintaining appearances was perhaps his most important duty of all. Voldemort currently did not view him as a threat, and he needed to keep it that way. Eventually the Dark Lord would realize the truth and move against the Potters, but the more Harry played nice and kept his nose clean, the longer he could keep that from happening. He was more than happy to blend into the background, performing his most important tasks in secret, far from the spotlight.

Unfortunately, the spotlight always seemed to find its way back to him in the end.

He arrived for breakfast in the Great Hall one morning in mid-March to hundreds of curious eyes following him up to the Head Table. For a fleeting moment of terror, he thought he'd been exposed, that everyone knew the truth about him. No, Voldemort would have gotten to me by now if they did, he thought, forcing himself to remain calm as he took his seat. Daphne was not present for the meal, and Harry quickly realized why when he unfolded his copy of the Prophet and read:

MINISTER'S SON AND WIFE EXPECTING!

By Regina Hornsby, The Daily Prophet

"Just weeks after Minister James Potter and his newlywed wife Andromeda announced their pregnancy, the Minister's son, Harry Potter, has upstaged the pair. Sources close to the younger Potter and his wife Daphne (née Greengrass) have confirmed that the couple are also expecting a child.

According to a fellow Hogwarts student close to the young couple, the new Missus Potter has missed several classes due to 'illness' in the past few weeks. 'I overheard her speaking with [Resident Healer Poppy] Pomfrey about prenatal care in the Hospital Wing last week,' the unnamed student told the Prophet in a letter. 'By the sound of it, she's at least a couple of months along by now.'

The news comes amid speculation surrounding who will inherit the Potter family fortune. Several readers wrote in speculating that the younger Potter staged this announcement to garner public sympathy and bolster his case to claim his father's riches. Inheritance experts are torn on the issue, with some claiming—"

Harry didn't bother with the rest of the article, which appeared to be the kind of gossip-rag rubbish he expected to see in Witch Weekly, not Britain's preeminent journalistic institution. It was frankly depressing to see how far the paper's standards had fallen – not that they were that high to begin with. It also served as a reminder of why he'd wanted to control the narrative and announce the pregnancy on his own terms...now the story was bound to run amok and create unintended consequences he hadn't planned for.

He glanced around the Hall to gauge the reactions to the news. Dahlia and Damian both peered at him curiously...they both knew the true nature of his marriage to Daphne, but he had not yet explained this latest development to them. Everyone else gossiped openly about the 'scandal' (if it could even be called one), eager for something salacious to talk about and distract them from their troubles. Much of the staff appeared nonchalant, except for Lily, who met Harry's eyes with a wide-eyed gaze. He could only give her a grim nod of confirmation, wishing he could explain the truth but knowing it was far too risky.

Harry stopped by the dorm before class to check on Daphne. She was working on classwork at her desk, or at least trying to, between angry mutterings and frustrated sighs. There was shredded red paper littering the floor all around her...evidence of a recent Howler incident.

"Mother was livid that I did not inform her first," Daphne sighed in explanation. "I had planned on telling her over Spring Break...I just didn't expect the news to break so soon."

"Me neither," Harry chuckled. "Turns out some girls are that desperate to get the scoop."

"It was that bitch Tracey Davis, I just know it," Daphne huffed. "She's been hanging around me more often lately...I bet she tailed me to the Hospital Wing to eavesdrop."

"I don't think it was Tracey," said Harry. It was true that the girl was sticking closer to Daphne lately, but that seemed more like a consequence of her being iced out of Slytherin House. All of her dorm mates had departed the castle to live with their new husbands, and Zacharias Smith had broken up with her for Hannah Abbott, leaving Tracey lonely and desperate for companionship. Personally, Harry suspected Romilda Vane, the fifth-year Gryffindor and infamous gossiper he'd witnessed following Daphne from afar on multiple occasions.

"Merlin, why didn't I ask to meet Madam Pomfrey in a more private setting?" Daphne groaned. "I just asked her for advice in the middle of the Hospital Wing...I'm such an idiot."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry, wrapping her in a reassuring hug. "It's unexpected, but we were planning to tell people at some point, right? Now the pressure's off."

"I guess so," Daphne muttered forlornly. "It's just strange. I know you're used to being in the headlines by now, but I never thought I'd be so scrutinized for this kind of thing—"

"Is it true?" a voice interrupted from behind the pair. Both wheeled around to see Astoria Greengrass standing in the open doorway, staring wide-eyed at her older sister. "You're pregnant?"

There was an awkward silence. Then, Daphne rushed over to engulf her sister in a teary hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Tori," she bawled. "I was just so embarrassed, and so scared, and I didn't know what to do—"

"You don't have to apologize," Astoria reassured her. "You know I support you no matter what."

Harry's heart was warmed by the sight of the two sisters reconciling. They had grown distant over the past school year, but were now reunited by their familial bond in such a significant moment in their lives. Harry slipped out of the dorm to give them privacy to reconnect.

In truth, he didn't mind so much that the news had been leaked. It was awkward in the short term, yes, but in the long term it meant the scrutiny upon him would lessen as the gossip mill churned onward. The incident with Ginny was now long forgotten, and the recent assassinations would soon become old news as well, meaning everyone's guards would start slowly coming down. That was what he needed in order for his plans to go off without a hitch.

It also turned out that Daphne's pregnancy was not the only topic of conversation in the news that day. Later that afternoon in History of Magic, Harry heard hushed conversations behind him, as Terry Boot and the other seventh-year Ravenclaw boys whispered to one another over Binns' droning. Harry was about to turn around and tell them off when he began to catch interesting snippets of their conversation:

"...should have been the real headline news, don't you think?"

"That makes it more suspicious if you ask me. There's something mighty strange going on if they're burying a story of THAT magnitude in the back of the Prophet."

"Come off it, Boot, not everyone is as big of a Quidditch nut as you are."

"And yet everyone knows who Krum is. It's not like this is something only Quidditch fans care about – he's a household name!"

"Oi," Harry hissed, wheeling around in his seat to confront the boys. "What are you lot talking about?"

Terry gave him a rueful glare, but clearly his interest in the topic at hand outweighed his hatred towards Harry. "You didn't read the sports section today, Potter?" he said. "Viktor Krum retired from Quidditch yesterday."

Harry frowned...he had indeed missed the article that morning. "Why did he do that?" he demanded.

"Dunno, do we?" shrugged Anthony Goldstein. "Article didn't say."

"And you'd think it would be bigger news than this," Terry added. "No offense, Potter, but more people care about the biggest wizarding athlete calling it quits in his prime than some silly inheritance dispute."

"Ahem," Professor Binns spoke up, noticing the disturbance in the back of his class for the first time. "Is something the matter, gentlemen?"

"Apologies, Professor," Harry called out, turning forward in his seat again. But his mind was far from the lecture still, ruminating on this strange development. Fleur had mentioned ages ago that Krum was considering a protest of the upcoming Quidditch season to draw attention to Voldemort's rising influence. Had that been his motivation? And was that why the Prophet had downplayed the news, so as not to draw further attention to it?

Once again his first instinct was to approach Fleur about the development and see what she made of it. There was a good chance she knew more than the Prophet let on, since the continent was unlikely to suppress the news as much as Britain's papers did. He hated this feeling of flying blind, of relying on blatant propaganda for any morsel of news from the outside world. In fact, he was tempted to craft himself an illegal Portkey that very evening, to travel to the continent himself to see what the hell was going on—

No, Fleur would be the first to tell me that's foolish, Harry told himself. She had stressed the importance of him keeping his head down the last time he'd seen her, shortly after the Cup's destruction and before her departure to France. Voldemort was sure to be more paranoid than ever after the Lestrange's deaths, and any deviation from normalcy would stick out like a sore thumb. Harry could not afford to be discovered missing from the castle for a while, lest someone noticed his absence and began connecting the dots. He had to stay put and continue the course, at least for now.

Later that evening, Harry left the library for the Great Hall for dinner, only to suddenly find himself being dragged into an empty classroom by the earlobe. He found a very cross Dahlia glaring at him when he was released, Damian close behind her.

"How dare you not tell me first?" his sister demanded. "I'm going to be an auntie, and I have to find out from the bloody Prophet?"

"Yeah, what gives?" Damian piped in. "I thought family was supposed to be the first to know?"

Harry groaned and drew his wand, casting a Muffling Charm on the door for safety. "Look, I was going to warn you both earlier," he muttered. "But the child isn't mine, okay?"

Both stared at him blankly. "What d'you mean it's not?" Dahlia demanded. "Whose else would it be?"

"It's Ron Weasley's," said Harry. "But you mustn't tell a soul about—"

"Bloody hell, you're in touch with Ron Weasley?" Damian exclaimed. "I thought for sure he was dead by now!"

Dahlia too looked astonished. "You found them?" she asked quietly. "Ron, Hermione, and...and Neville?"

"No, just Ron," Harry sighed, noting the crestfallen look on his sister's face. "We crossed paths over Christmas break. I've been meeting with him periodically since then, but you can't tell anyone!"

"Of course we won't," said Dahlia, as Damian nodded emphatically beside her. "But, oh, Mum is going to be so cross with you...she thinks she's going to be a grandmother."

Harry felt a pang of guilt at this. "She has to keep believing that," he sighed. "It's too dangerous if too many people know, and she and Dad are still being watched by Lockhart and the others."

"But what will happen when the baby is born?" Damian frowned. "I reckon it'll be obvious then that it's not yours."

"Let me worry about that," said Harry. "Just please, keep your heads down and pretend like this conversation never happened. There's a lot going on right now."

Dahlia scrutinized Harry's expression. "You didn't have anything to do with Crouch and the Lestranges, did you?" she asked worriedly.

"The less said about that, the better," Harry sighed, causing both Dahlia and Damian to raise their eyebrows. "I promise I'll tell you everything when this is all over."

He wished he could fully open up to his loved ones about what he was up to, but knew it would just cause more problems. The Prophet exposé was just further proof that there were eyes and ears everywhere in the castle – and not just the Death Eaters. He didn't want to draw suspicion because Dahlia or Damian let something slip, or were simply overheard talking about things they shouldn't. He also didn't want them to worry, which they certainly would if they knew all that he'd done and what else he had planned.

Luckily, the conversation surrounding Daphne's pregnancy was not as prolific as Harry feared. He got some odd looks in the coming days, but nothing like the days following Ginny's punishment. If anything, he figured the news would make him less threatening to Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. Surely the Dark Lord wouldn't suspect Harry of taking such murderous actions if he was an expecting father-to-be, right? While the initial buzz in the press had been intense, Harry suspected that the story would fade from the spotlight sooner than later.

Harry did get the feeling, however, that students were talking privately about something, even if it wasn't him. One thing he had gained as Head Boy was a keen sense for when a student was trying to hide something. Reading body language and shifts in behavior had become second-nature to him, especially since children were not so good at hiding their emotions. So when he rounded a corner between classes one morning and walked past a group of third-year Ravenclaw girls, who immediately fell silent at the sight of him, he knew something was up.

"Morrison. Jackson. Paige," he greeted the three guilty-looking girls. "Something the matter?"

"N-no, Mr. Potter," squeaked Felicity Morrison, nervously avoiding his eyeline. Jacqueline Paige swiftly moved her hands behind her back; Harry caught a glimpse at the corner of something bright purple, causing him to sigh in recognition.

"Hand it over, Ms. Paige," he demanded.

Jacqueline looked pinned like a deer in headlights for a moment. Then, she sheepishly procured a copy of The Quibbler, which Harry took from her hands.

"Anyone else want to fess up?" he asked, looking two the other two girls. "Dishonesty will only make matters worse."

The girls exchanged a terrified look, perhaps remembering what happened to Ginny. Then, each of them pulled their own copies of the banned magazine from their robes and surrendered them. "S-sorry," one of them squeaked, cowering as if afraid she'd be struck.

"That'll be twenty points from Ravenclaw for each of you," said Harry. "If it happens again, the punishment will be far worse. Now get to class." The three girls didn't need telling twice, scurrying off down the hall and out sight.

Harry sighed as he watched them go. He knew the publication was still in circulation amongst the students...some were just better at hiding it than others. But he couldn't be seen going soft on anyone, and had to continue playing the role of bad cop to maintain order. As long as they feared retribution, the students would not try anything like Ginny did ever again.

Harry glanced at the cover of the Quibbler before stowing it away, then did a double-take. A familiar face graced the cover, looking into the camera with his trademark scowl. A face Harry hadn't seen in a while, nor expected to see again for longer still. The headline over his head read:

VIKTOR KRUM TELLS ALL: WHY THE INTERNATIONAL STAR TRADED BROOMSTICKS FOR POLITICS

Harry stared at the headline for a moment, stunned. Krum spoke to the Quibbler? he thought. He knew the man was famously reticent about talking to the media at all, even Quidditch-related publications. So why was he speaking to Xenophilius Lovegood of all people? The headline might be pointing to the reason why, and Harry was itching to dig into the article himself.

So that night after dinner, he excused himself to his dorm and pulled out the magazine at his desk. He cracked it open to the headline article and began to read:

"Many in Britain and around the world were shocked by the news that international Quidditch star, Viktor Krum, was calling it quits in the prime of his career. Why would the most talented athlete of his generation turn his back on millions of fans – not to mention Galleons – for seemingly no reason? Was the decision injury-related? Was Krum simply tired of the sport after years in the spotlight?

The British media has largely remained silent on the matter – almost suspiciously so. Which is why I decided to sit down with Mr. Krum for a one-on-one interview at an undisclosed location to set the record straight. And as it turns out, his motives for the decision were largely altruistic in nature.

'I was raised to always do the right thing,' said Krum in our interview. 'My grandfather fought in the war against Grindelwald fifty years ago, giving up his dream career as an Unspeakable in the process. Now, I believe the world faces a similar threat, if not more dire, with the British Dark Lord [REDACTED]. I must honor the sacrifices my family before me made and give up the thing I love most to fight back against this threat.'

Krum elaborated on what he called the 'negligence' of the international community in response to the threat of You-Know-Who's return. 'The ICW was too quick to accept the official version of events after the Battle of London,' said Krum. 'It was clear to anyone with eyes that the threat of [You-Know-Who] was not truly gone. Dark Lord like him do not simply retreat and give up their ambitions...they will always come back stronger and more dangerous than ever.'

I later asked Krum if he read the previous editions of The Quibbler, linking You-Know-Who to the Potter administration. He appeared troubled by the topic, as though the matter had been weighing on him.

'I knew the Minister's son [Harry] years ago,' said Krum after some hesitation. 'I competed against him in the Triwizard Tournament and believed him to be the honorable type. I am therefore shocked and disappointed to see how quickly the British Ministry's policies have shifted towards discrimination and bigotry. It has made me rethink whether the family is to be trusted.'

Krum plans to spend the coming months traveling the continent and using his platform to raise awareness to Britain's plight. 'Many in Europe are quick to dismiss Britain after its actions in the previous war,' he explained. 'But are we any better than them if we leave them to suffer at the hands of a maniac, who is arguably just as bad as Grindelwald was? If enough people call upon their respective Ministries to stand up and question what is happening on the British Isles, perhaps we can get to the bottom of what is really going on.'

He also criticized mainstream British media outlets, such as The Daily Prophet and The Quidditch Digest, for failing to report the truth, both in regards to You-Know-Who and to himself. 'Most of the hate mail I've received comes from Britain, because their citizens don't understand why I've decided to do this,' said Krum. 'Their media and Ministry are lying to them, and it's time for them to wake up. If they continue to keep their heads buried in the sand, they will slowly lose all the freedoms their ancestors fought so hard for them to earn.'"

"Is that The Quibbler?" a voice piped up behind Harry, interrupting his reading. He turned to see Daphne peeking around the divider towards him.

"Yeah," said Harry, flashing her the cover. "Confiscated it from a student this morning."

"I see," Daphne muttered thoughtfully. "D'you think maybe...I could have a read once you're done?"

"Of course you can," Harry chuckled. Though she found herself smack-dab in the middle of a rebellion, Daphne was a rules-follower to a tee and wouldn't be caught dead with a banned magazine. It was morbidly amusing that she was okay with midnight rendezvous with wanted criminals, but needed to ask permission to read a disallowed text. Truly a sign of how warped their reality had become.

Harry had to admit: Xenophilius had done a good job with his reporting on Krum. The rest of the edition discussed the recent changes the Potter administration had made in Britain and how they aligned with Voldemort's ideology in the last war. It also examined current political dynamics on the continent, and which nations had already shown signs of support for Britain or might be willing to in the future. It ended with a call to action for witches and wizards all over the world to demand transparency and accountability within the British Ministry.

To Harry, it was a breath of fresh air after months of recycled propaganda from the Prophet. It was the first clear indication that things were happening on the continent, that they were truly not alone in this war. With powerful men like Sebastian Delacour amassing allies, and now Viktor Krum joining the cause to raise public awareness, it looked like they would actually have a chance to make it a fair fight. It did hurt him to know Krum was unsure if the Potters could be trusted, but hopefully he would get the chance to set the record straight in the near future.

Again, Harry wanted nothing more than to consult Fleur and hear her thoughts on the matter. Her absence was poorly timed, leaving him completely in the dark about what might be happening outside the castle. He decided it was best not to ruminate on this new development and focus on the things that were in his control. Namely, the final two horcruxes he had to find and destroy.

The Sword of Gryffindor still eluded him, hidden away in some unknown location and unable to be retrieved from the Sorting Hat. He planned to bring the Hat home with him for spring break in a few short weeks, to see if James or Sirius might be able to pull it out. Harry hadn't heard from the goblins since the shady Gringotts deal, and the last thing he wanted was them breathing down his neck and drawing further attention to him. The sooner he could get his hands on the Sword, the better.

In the meantime, he decided to focus his efforts on Nagini. The great snake roamed freely at Malfoy Manor, separated from her master, but Harry had no way of knowing how long that would be the case. Would Voldemort wise up and keep his horcruxes close? Would he decide Lucius was no longer worth keeping an eye on? Harry didn't want to waste this window of opportunity. He had to act soon, lest he lose the chance to do away with the snake for good.

However, he was unsure how to approach reconnaissance for the mission. He could not use the same method he had with Crouch and the Lestranges...hiding out on the grounds for hours at a time was too risky. What if Nagini sniffed him out while roaming nearby? What if Lucius Malfoy had improved his defenses? Or worse, what if Voldemort himself was monitoring the Manor more closely than expected? A wizard of his caliber would be able to sense an unseen presence better than any Death Eater could.

He decided to risk one brief visit to the area on a Sunday afternoon, Apparating to a remote area about half a mile from Malfoy Manor. He did not dare approach the grounds – not only did he suspect the wards to be much stricter here, he also had the snake to worry about, with its keen sense of smell able to sense even an invisible wizard lurking where he oughtn't be. So instead, Harry disguised himself as a Muggle jogger and began to explore the area surrounding the Manor, hoping to deduce as much as he could from the surroundings.

Most of the homes around here were remote Muggle farms, operated by single families. He saw various crops and livestock on the surrounding properties – chickens, ducks, goats, and even a few cows roaming the grounds. It was a picturesque scene, the kind of place Harry could see a wealthy individual settling down for a quiet life in the countryside. If only the headquarters of one of the most evil men alive was not situated so close by…

Harry rounded a corner and came across a peculiar sight. While most of the nearby farms were bordered by fences or hedgerows, one looked more like an active war zone, lined with barbed wire fencing and heavy spikes pointing menacingly outward. It was like a scene straight out of those zombie apocalypse movies Dudley used to enjoy watching late at night as a child.

"Bit of an eyesore, innit?" a voice called from across the road. Harry turned to see the next-door neighbor, another Muggle farmer, checking his mailbox.

"Er...yes, I suppose," Harry chuckled.

"Truth be told, I been considerin' something similar myself," the farmer sighed, glancing back at his own property. "We've lost two chickens and a pig this year already."

"That so?" Harry frowned. "Lost them how?"

The farmer glanced over his shoulder, as if worried they might be overheard despite being the only two souls for hundreds of yards around. "They say a demon lurks in them woods," the man said in a hushed tone, thumbing his nose towards a heavily forested area. "Somethin' big and bloodthirsty lurks in the trees. A group of us went huntin' for the beast a few weeks back, but we got an awful bad feeling and turned back."

"You don't say," Harry whistled appreciatively. He knew the Malfoy property lay concealed within those trees, and guessed that it was the Muggle-Repelling Wards that had caused them to turn back. And though he couldn't say so, he knew exactly what kind of 'beast' the man was talking about.

"Keep yer eyes open 'round here," the farmer warned. "Stay safe, mate."

"You as well," said Harry, before taking off jogging again. Once he was out of sight, he ducked behind a hedgerow and Apparated back to Hogwarts. He hadn't learned much, but he'd at least confirmed that Nagini still roamed the area. It concerned him that she had such a wide area to roam, which could make it difficult for him to locate her when he decided to hunt her down. That was yet another concern he would have to raise with Fleur when she returned.

There was little he could do in the meantime but wait. He resumed his normal routine, itching for action but knowing it was too risky to do anything bold. He checked the enchanted diary multiple times a day, hoping to hear from Fleur, but it remained maddeningly silent. He hoped that the prolonged stay on the continent meant that things were happening and she was doing important work, but the silence was deafening, leaving him to wonder what he was missing. But no matter – Spring Break was only a week away, and they had plans to meet up then to plot their next moves, so he figured he would next talk to her then.

Then, one night out of the blue, the diary glowed brightly as he returned to his dorm and sat at his desk. He excitedly opened it to read Fleur's latest message.

Back from France, she had written. Lots to discuss. How are things at Hogwarts?

Harry quickly grabbed a quill and ink bottle to respond. Quiet, mostly, he responded. What's happening on the continent? What did your father have to say?

Papa is making preparations to transport mercenary fighters to Britain, said Fleur. He has recruited roughly three hundred so far. It is technically illegal to move that many forces across international borders, so he is fighting for approval from the French Ministry.

They won't alert the British Ministry, will they? asked Harry, suddenly alarmed. Voldemort has eyes and ears everywhere in the government.

No, France is treating Britain as a 'rogue nation' at the moment, said Fleur. Papa wanted them to upgrade their status to 'hostile', but they won't go that far against a presumed ally. Either way, they aren't sharing intel with Britain until this situation is resolved, and several other nations have followed suit.

That's good, said Harry. Can these mercenaries be trusted?

Most likely, said Fleur. Many of them have Muggle heritage and deeply angry about Britain's purity movement. They can't be swayed by Voldemort's money, and most are far better fighters than the average ICW soldier.

Harry was glad to hear that things were truly in motion on the continent. It still made him nervous that so many troops were mobilizing so close to Britain, as Voldemort might catch wind that things are trending against him and retaliate before they were ready. Ideally they would be able to strike when the Dark Lord felt at his most secure, in order to catch him off-guard.

Have you spoken to Viktor Krum lately? Harry asked. Is it true that he is recruiting as well? Is he in touch with your father?

Fleur did not respond immediately to this question. I am unsure how much to share with you, she eventually wrote after a minute's silence. Krum is mostly working on his own, but he has spoken with my father. I'm meeting with Krum tomorrow night to discuss things.

Harry was baffled by this vague response. What do you mean, you're unsure? he demanded. You don't trust me?

Of course I do, Fleur said quickly. It's just that we're at a very delicate stage in the war, and Krum is paranoid about things getting out.

So Krum is the one who doesn't trust me, then. Why not?

It's not about trust, Harry. It's about protecting information that could win or lose us the war. Surely you understand that.

Of course I understand that, Harry wrote irritably. What do you think I've been doing for the past seven years? How can you think I'm not capable of keeping things to myself?

Don't be ridiculous, Fleur chastised him. This war does not revolve around you. Krum is just being cautious due to your proximity to Voldemort.

Harry had to prevent himself from penning an angry response at this missive. He felt like he was back in his first timeline again, with Dumbledore and the Order keeping secrets from him, in a misguided attempt to protect him. He knew logically that this was not Fleur's intention, of course, but it wounded him all the same. He forced himself to calm down a bit before replying.

You said you're meeting Krum tomorrow, said Harry. But how? Aren't you back in Britain?

He has established a safe house on the Isles, said Fleur. He's making preparations here for when the cavalry arrives.

And I don't suppose I could come to this meeting? Harry asked, already fearing the answer.

No, Krum prefers that I come alone. But I promise I will relay the message that you want to talk to him as well. You know how much privacy means to him.

Again Harry forced himself not to write the first snide thought that popped into his head. Namely, that Krum was more willing to trust the pretty Veela girl than the teenage boy three years his inferior. That was overly reductive of Fleur's capabilities and significance to the war.

Fine, Harry wrote instead. I'll just be at Malfoy Manor then, planning my next moves.

Don't do anything rash, Fleur implored him. It's important that you stay in the castle as much as possible to avoid suspicion. Malfoy Manor is too dangerous to approach alone...I can help you plan next week when things aren't so hectic.

Time is of the essence here, Fleur, Harry said. One week could be the difference between victory and defeat.

So could you getting caught in a trap. It's too risky. Please don't rush into this without thinking like you often do.

What's that supposed to mean? Harry demanded. 'Like I often do'? You think I'm reckless, is that it? Is that why you won't trust me?

I can tell you're upset, Fleur deduced. I fear it's clouding your judgment. Why don't we leave it for tonight and get some rest? I'll write to you when I return from my meeting tomorrow night.

Harry did not bother responding or saying goodnight, instead tossing his diary back into his desk drawer in disgust. How could Fleur treat him this way? Like he was just a petulant child throwing a tantrum? Did she still view him as that same 'leetle boy' she'd derided when they first met? How could she be so condescending?

Breathe, Harry told himself. Of course Fleur didn't view him that way. She was risking her life to help him fight this shadow war he'd gotten himself into. And she was right – he was upset and lashing out at her. Fleur Delacour was not Albus Dumbledore – she was not hiding key information out of arrogance or condescension. She was merely respecting the wishes of a mutual friend until Krum could be convinced that Harry was worth confiding in. He needed to take a step back and reassess things in the morning after sleeping it off.

He felt far less angry when he awoke the next morning, but his frustration at being left in the dark persisted. Just when he was starting to feel like he had a handle on the war, his close allies were keeping him in the dark, wrenching control away from him. Harry didn't think himself much of a control freak, but he'd hate to see victory slip out of his fingertips because there were variables outside his control.

He attended his classes as usual, continuing to feel it was a pointless exercise amidst such a brutal war. Seventh-year courses were in full N.E.W.T. preparation mode now, and his classmates paid him little mind, each focused on their own futures that would come from the end-of-year exams he cared little about himself. He even earned a rare reprimand from a professor that afternoon, as Professor Babbling docked him five House points for not paying attention to her Ancient Runes lecture.

Harry spent that evening at his desk, anxiously awaiting word from Fleur. Would she manage to convince Krum of his trustworthiness? Would he be summoned for a late-night rendezvous with the man? He was dying to know what they were plotting without him – what was happening outside the monotonous walls of the castle he was growing sick of. But the longer the night drew on, Harry realized Fleur would not be messaging him tonight after all.

Did she just forget to update me? Harry wondered. Is she still upset with me about yesterday? Or did the meeting just stretch longer than planned? Suddenly his wild ran wild envisioning scenarios that kept her from responding. He could just picture it now...Fleur and Krum, alone at his safe house...sharing a drink to de-stress...perhaps he'd invited her to stay the night, rather than Apparate home...and why shouldn't she stay? They had prior history, after all...he was a successful international star, and she was a beautiful, single young witch...why shouldn't they get together for a harmless tryst?

Harry knew he was being ridiculous, of course. Fleur was not trying to punish him, either by keeping him in the dark or spending alone time with Krum. His mind was just growing stir-crazy being stuck in this blasted castle all year round. But it did not diminish the resentment festering in his gut, unfounded though it was...a strange sense of jealousy, which he told himself was just about being stuck at Hogwarts but he knew was partly spurred on by thoughts of what they might be doing in his absence.

The next day, Harry resolved to work off some of his excess energy in a more productive manner. He walked down to the Quidditch pitch during his free period and spent an hour zooming around on his Firebolt, relishing the feeling of the wind in his hair for the first time in ages. He also trained in the Room of Requirement that evening – mostly an excuse to blow up some training dummies and let off some steam. It was exactly the stress relief he needed after weeks of constant anxiety. It allowed him to distract himself from all the worry, all the frustration of being cooped up in the castle.

But the damned enchanted diary still remained silent when he returned to his dorm that evening. Still Fleur was keeping him in the dark, either because she was busy or because she was still mad at him for their last argument. He thought about writing her a scathing message, or even stopping by Raven House the following afternoon to demand answers. Instead, he took a cold shower and went to bed early.

Don't do anything stupid just because you're frustrated, he told himself. That's what often got him into trouble in his last timeline – hell, in both timelines. He had to think more logically and swallow his pride, accepting that certain things were outside his control. Besides, Spring Break was less than a week away, and he could safely confer with Fleur then to figure out their next moves. He knew he would feel better in the morning.

He went for his typical morning run the next day, mentally preparing himself for another week of routine. All appeared normal when he entered the Great Hall; students dully conversed at their tables about whatever had become the topic of gossip that day. Daphne had returned to her seat, now starting to show visible signs of pregnancy but no longer the center of attention about it. He muttered a greeting before sitting beside her and digging into his meal.

Minutes later, a flurry of wings overhead heralded the morning post delivery. Bandit swooped over Harry's head, dropping his copy of the Prophet before zooming over to the Gryffindor table to pester Dahlia for affection. Harry scanned the headline; it was more generic fluff extolling the 'tremendous success' of the new marriage-born laws. He was about to toss the paper aside when a smaller headline halfway down the page caught his full attention:

EDITOR OF CONTROVERSIAL 'QUIBBLER' PUBLICATION ISSUES RETRACTION

By Alexander Sommerbee, The Daily Prophet

"In a surprise special edition sent to subscribers late last night, Xenophilius Lovegood, the controversial and embattled editor-in-chief of 'The Quibbler', offered a rare apology to his readers.

'To my longtime readers,' said Lovegood in the edition, 'I wish to sincerely apologize for my role in spreading misinformation in years past. My recent reporting on political matters, particularly the Potter administration and Viktor Krum's political affiliations, were poorly-researched and misleading. They are not up to my usual journalistic standards, and I no longer stand by the dubious conclusions I arrived at.'

Lovegood has a long reputation of peddling crack conspiracy theories and making wildly unsubstantiated claims about the world, from topics as small as Mooncalf fighting rings to as large as government corruption. It should come as no surprise to readers of the Prophet that he should come under fire for his irresponsible journalism.

'We've been aware of Mr. Lovegood and his publication for many years, of course,' said Lord Corban Yaxley, the newly-minted Head of the Department of Information. 'We have never had cause to act on his poor reporting before, as nobody took him seriously, and rightfully so. But his recent editions have included some rather dangerous misinformation that we felt warranted concern. We applaud Mr. Lovegood for doing the right thing and coming to his senses before the Ministry was forced to take action against him.'

'Everyone knows The Quibbler is a bunch of crock,' said longtime Prophet reader Muriel Prewett. 'Only a matter of time before more people realized what a quack Lovegood is. That whole family is loony, I tell you...the fact that anybody took him seriously in the first place is the real surprise!'

The Prophet reached out to Mr. Lovegood for a statement, and he responded: 'I stand by the Potter administration and take back the damaging lies I told about him. He is leading Britain to a healthier and more prosperous future, and I regret the way that my actions cast doubt upon his accomplishments'."

Harry set down the paper, deep in thought. Xenophilius Lovegood did not strike him as the kind of man to admit fault, especially when he was actually in the right for once. It made no sense that he would tuck tail so easily and take back all the hard work he'd put into his recent reporting. Something was fishy here.

Voldemort's people must have gotten to him, Harry thought grimly. Of course a publication that was spreading such anti-establishment sentiment would not be allowed to survive. But why, then, had they not just done away with him? Why allow him to continue on as editor of the Quibbler rather than make an example out of him?

But the answer came to him just as quickly: to maintain the status quo. It was the same reason Voldemort had not done away with the Potters immediately after the Battle of London. It was easier to keep things the way they were, so as not to create a panic with the general public. It made just as much sense to lean into Xeno's controversial reputation and cast doubt upon his reporting than to do away with him, which would only invite questions. Now anyone who was on the fence about his recent reporting would be able to disregard his inflammatory ideas as conspiracy fodder, allowing the story to die out of natural causes.

Still, Harry had to wonder how they'd managed to silence the man. He clearly had little to lose – why cave in now, when the stakes were this high? What had they threatened him with? That question weighed on him as he exited the Great Hall for his first lesson of the day. And unfortunately, he would get his answer almost immediately.

"Harry!"

He turned; Dahlia was making her way through the crowd towards him. She wore a look of deep consternation.

"What's up?" he asked. "Everything okay?"

"Er...I'm not sure," Dahlia frowned. "I think something might be going on with Luna Lovegood."

"What about her?" Harry frowned. "Someone bullying her again?"

"She hasn't been to class in the past couple of days," said Dahlia. "Have you spoken with her?"

"No," Harry muttered. "Maybe she's fallen ill."

"That's what I thought, too," said Dahlia. "But she hasn't been to the Hospital Wing, and I asked Amy Carmichael from Ravenclaw who she said she hasn't seen her in the dorms, either. You don't think she's been sent home, do you?"

A chill ran down Harry's spine. He hadn't seen Luna all week, come to think of it. She wasn't exactly a social butterfly, after all...she was the kind of person that was easy to miss in the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. And he had a sinking feeling that this was no simple matter of truancy. Could this be related to her father's Quibbler retraction?

"I'll find her," Harry promised. And he rushed out to the Entrance Hall, pulling out the Marauder's Map and activating it. He scoured the Great Hall, the dorms, and various other nooks and crannies for her name, but could not see it anywhere. Where had she gone? Had she been pulled from the school by her father out of concern? Or had something more sinister happened to her?

"Looking for your friend?" a voice asked. He looked up; Grindelwald was striding across the Hall towards him, a gleeful smile on his face, causing Harry's stomach to squirm.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"Me? Nothing at all!" said Grindelwald innocently, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm quite fond of the girl, you see, and fully intend to wed her this summer. But our master saw fit to send her to our friend Lucius Malfoy for a bit of...motivation. He figures that if we can loosen her lips a bit, Xenophilius might learn to keep his own shut."

Fear flooded through Harry at these words. It was the worst case scenario: Luna was being tortured for what her father had written. He imagined her at this very moment, chained to a wall in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, scared and alone, or else screaming in pain from Merlin-knows-what sadistic treatment Lucius was putting her through.

"But never fear, Harry!" Grindelwald grinned. "The body is far from a Seer's most valuable asset. I am certain they will leave her neurologically intact for me...though she can afford to lose a few limbs if it means keeping Daddy in line."

Grindelwald knew the effect he was having on Harry with his words. Try as Harry might to control his emotions, anger coursed through him, trembling with rage at the thought of poor, innocent Luna being maimed for a crime she did not commit.

"Still, that's one less student you have to punish, eh?" Grindelwald winked. "Consider yourself lucky, Harry. I'll be seeing you around." And the man waltzed off, heading back to his quarters. Harry noticed that he appeared far more spry and fit now, walking without a limp or stoop and appearing more like the powerful arch-wizard he truly was.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, mind racing. Luna's in danger, was all he could think. He could not just stand by and do nothing. He must act. He must go at once and rescue her. Malfoy Manor was already on his target list – why not bump up the timeline and attack it sooner? Why not tonight? Hell, why not this very moment? He rushed off, sprinting up the nearest stairwell, headed for the alcove outside Snape's office.

He could not think. He could not plan ahead. All that he could see was Luna in distress; all he could hear was her screams of pain and fear. It was partially his fault she was in this predicament in the first place. He should have kept her close, should have not let her fall under Grindelwald's control. He had failed in his role as protector. And now the only course of action was to rectify matters, to go and rescue her.

Harry reached the alcove and immediately Apparated away. He landed on the front porch of Raven House, rushing upstairs to the potion lab to gather supplies. He grabbed a toolkit and strapped it around his waist, then selected a set of Shield apparel from the closet to wear for the excursion. He had a feeling he would be in for a fight.

"'Arry?" a voice called out; Fleur emerged from down the hall, looking like she'd been getting ready to go to work. "I was going to write you tonight...what are you doing here?"

"Getting ready to burn Malfoy Manor to the ground," Harry growled as he began to undress and put on the shielded garb.

"What?!" said Fleur, stepping into the room. "Why? What 'as happened?"

"They took Luna," Harry huffed, slipping on an undershirt before moving on to the trousers. "As punishment for Xenophilius' articles. I have to go and get her."

"But you can't!" Fleur protested. "Ze Manor is too dangerous – I thought we agreed!"

"See if I care," Harry muttered angrily. "I hope Voldemort's entire army is there – I'll carve through them all like butter."

"Wait – slow down!" said Fleur, grabbing Harry's arm. "Tell me what you 'ave heard. Why the rush?"

"Grindelwald told me everything," Harry growled. "He was practically giddy about it. He wanted to rub it in my face, because he knows how important she is to me." And he yanked his arm free to continue getting dressed.

"What if 'e is manipulating you?" Fleur demanded. "Grindelwald wants you dead, wants you to make a stupid mistake...zis could be a trap he 'as set for you!"

"Could be," Harry shrugged indifferently. "Doesn't matter, though. I won't let them hurt Luna."

"But they would not seriously 'arm her, surely!" Fleur reasoned as Harry put his outer cloak back on over the shielded items. "She 'as done nothing wrong, and magical blood is too precious for them to kill her!"

"Doesn't mean they won't carve her up first to send a lesson," Harry growled. "I can't let that happen." And he brushed past Fleur towards the stairwell.

"'Arry, please stop and think about this for one moment!" Fleur begged him, following him downstairs. "Zis is madness! It is plain suicide! You mustn't rush into this!" She attempted to grab Harry's arm at the bottom of the stairs, but he again wrenched himself free of her grasp.

"Maybe I don't care, Fleur," said Harry as he headed for the door to Apparate away. "Maybe I'm sick of waiting around for bad things to happen to the people I care about. The time for waiting is over, and the time for action is—oh, come now, this is ridiculous!"

Fleur had rushed ahead of him, planting himself between him and the front door, wand drawn and shakily trained on him. "P-please do not go," she begged. "I can't lose you."

There was a bang and a flash of light; Fleur's Stunner was effortlessly swatted away as her wand was wrenched from her grasp, clattering into the corner of the room. She stood there, defenseless, eyes wide with fear at the prospect of what Harry planned to do.

"Now, if you are finished throwing a fit," Harry huffed, getting annoyed now as he brushed past her and reached for the door handle, "I'll just be going n— oi!"

Fleur tackled Harry to the ground, pinning him down with surprising strength for such a petite-looking witch. Harry struggled underneath her for a moment, but his Quidditch instincts and superior muscle mass soon kicked in, and he broke free, rolling them both over and pinning her arms down to the floor until she surrendered.

"Are you quite done?" he panted in frustration.

Fleur glared up at him defiantly, face inches from his, her powder-blue eyes narrowed in reproach. The last thing Harry expected in that moment was a powerful blast of magic assaulting his senses: raw, focused Veela allure. It came too suddenly for Harry to react; he was unable to Occlude it away, his mind going blissfully blank as his senses departed, leaving only his perception of the gorgeous woman pinned beneath him—

Then his lips crashed into hers, their tongues dancing in needy lockstep on the living room floor. It was exhilarating, electrifying; Harry's mind was aflame with desire, his entire world narrowed to her, to Fleur, and he wanted nothing more than to spend an eternity in this moment of delirious pleasure—

Suddenly reason interrupted his senses and he abruptly pulled back, leaping off of Fleur and backing away. He hastily erected his Occlumency barriers to shut off any Allure she had sent his way. They stared at one another in shock from across the room, each panting heavily.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "A ploy to get me to stay?"

Fleur sat up, and to Harry's surprise, she looked self-conscious about what she had done. "Non, I am sorry," she sighed. "I did not mean to use my Allure...you just caught me off-guard is all…"

They sat there on the floor for a minute of awkward silence, catching their breath and recomposing themselves. Harry felt an incredible burning sensation in his gut – a mixture of excitement, confusion, anger, desire, and other wild emotions he didn't want to indulge in right now. He closed his eyes until the sensation passed, then fixed his gaze on Fleur again.

"You aren't used to people telling you no, are you?" he sighed.

"Eet is rare for men to say no to Veela," Fleur admitted. "I was desperate to stop you, and I tried to take power back in ze only way I knew how. I apologize."

"It's fine," Harry muttered, massaging his temple. He'd be lying if he said he'd never fantasized about kissing Fleur before, but this...the moment was all wrong. It hadn't been a gesture of mutual interest, simply a defensive mechanism on her part. He could hardly blame her for it, even if he felt a tiny bit annoyed that he'd fallen for it.

Harry slowly got to his feet, and Fleur did the same. "You are not still going to Malfoy Manor, I 'ope?" Fleur asked, wringing her hands nervously.

"No," Harry shook his head. His mind was far from such murderous thoughts now – the charged moment had successfully broken his fit of blind rage. "You're right. We need to be smart about this – plan it out. I won't charge in without warning you first."

Fleur sighed with relief. She crossed the distance between them and wrapped Harry in a gentle hug. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "We will get Luna out alive. I promise."

"Yeah," Harry said numbly. He broke off the hug and awkwardly backed away. Being in close proximity to Fleur was suddenly supremely awkward. They nodded grimly at one another, before Harry Apparated back to the castle. He was just in time to rejoin his classmates for their morning lessons, but his mind was far from the course work. He knew he was not going to get anything productive done today after what had just transpired.

He did not sleep easily that night, tossing and turning, his mind still on Luna and the danger she was in. But as he calmed down from his initial panic, he recognized that Fleur was likely right. They would not really maim Luna to such an excessive degree, especially if Grindelwald remained fond of her and wished to marry her. The man was probably just baiting him, trying to trick Harry into doing something foolish. It wouldn't surprise him if her imprisonment was Grindelwald's idea...he knew Harry's weakness was his loved ones, and likely suggested the tactic to Voldemort in the hopes of leading Harry into a trap.

He would go and rescue Luna eventually, but not tonight. He would need to plan carefully and make sure no traps were waiting for him before targeting Malfoy Manor. If he managed to rescue Luna, kill Lucius, and take care of the Nagini horcrux in one night, it could turn the tides of the war overnight...he just had to take his time and account for all variables, so no more Winky or Pansy fiascoes occurred.

As he calmed himself down, his visions of Luna were slowly replaced with that of another blue-eyed, blonde-haired witch. One of immense physical beauty, but more importantly, a fiercely independent spirit and unparalleled loyalty. Their kiss had been brief and spurred by coercive circumstances, but it had been an electric shock to Harry's system, causing his entire body to buzz at the mere thought of it. He hadn't intended for it to happen, but a part of him was glad that it did...and he was pretty sure Fleur was, too…

Stop that, Harry chastised himself as his mind raced with wonderful, blissful possibilities. There will be time for romance when this war is over. You can't afford to get distracted now. But that did not stop him from basking in the warm afterglow of the moment, replaying it over and over in his mind as he gradually slipped into sleep.

After all, such moments of pleasure were hard to come by in the cruel reality of war.