Year 7-23: Trust Exercises

Harry expected death to be more peaceful.

Rather than the sweet embrace of nothingness, all he knew amidst the darkness was pain and anguish. He could hear people screaming, could sense the chaos happening all around him, could feel his body aflame with agony, but he was powerless to change it. What was the point of death if not to avoid such suffering? Why was his soul not permitted to rest after passing over to the other side?

Eventually, he was granted the peace and quiet he craved. But still the darkness enveloped him, and the pain persisted, as though he was still connected to the corporeal body he thought he'd left behind. It finally dawned on him that he must not be dead...he was still here, in the plane of the living, but trapped within his own mind. He had to break free. He had to get back to his family. Voldemort was still out there; his family was in grave danger, and he had to warn them—

Harry gasped awake and struggled to stand, but he felt a pair of hands holding him down, forcing him down onto his back. He felt the cool fabric against his skin and the soft pillows under his head, and knew he must be in a bed. But where? And how long had it been?

"Harry, calm down! It's okay. You're safe."

"Dahlia?" Harry croaked, recognizing his sister's voice in the darkness. "What are you doing here? I told you to run—"

"We're not in danger, Harry," said Dahlia. "Hold on – let me go and fetch the others." And he heard her get to her feet to leave the room.

"Can you turn a light on?" Harry asked groggily. He regretted this request immediately as blinding light consumed his vision, groaning and attempting to shield his eyes. As he slowly acclimated to the light, he realized he was in a familiar place: his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He'd expected to still be at Raven House, Voldemort threatening to break down the wards and kill him. Dahlia must have gotten him out somehow.

A minute later, Dahlia returned with several people in tow. Harry's heart leapt when he saw who it was: James, Sirius, Andromeda, Damian, and Fleur, all looking worried sick.

"Harry," James said weakly, rushing forward to give his son a fierce hug. "Thank Merlin you're all right. It wasn't looking so good for a minute there."

"I'm okay, Dad," Harry muttered, reaching up to return the hug. He was confused when he could not bring his left arm around to grasp his father's backside. In fact, he could not feel his left arm at all. Had it fallen asleep? Was it trapped beneath the sheets somehow?

Then, it all came flooding back to him. The Dark Mark burning. The Sword of Gryffindor in his sister's hands. His severed arm lying on the floor of Raven House. "What happened?" he demanded, trying to sit upright as his father forced him to remain on his back. "Where's Voldemort? Is he coming? Is everyone—"

"Relax, Harry," Sirius reassured him. "Everyone is safe. Andromeda here alerted us to the danger, and we managed to get everyone to safety before the Death Eaters attacked."

"They came to Godric's Hollow first," James said grimly. "Leveled our home and half the block to the ground. Luckily, we got Petunia out before that happened."

"There's half a damned army camped outside as we speak," Sirius muttered grimly. "They knew the location thanks to Snape, but the Fidelius is keeping 'em out. As long as we stay within the ward boundaries, we're safe here."

"And the Greengrasses?" Harry asked. "And Luna, and her father?"

"All fine," said James. "The Lovegoods are hiding out in Diagon Alley, with the Weasley twins. And the Greengrasses are together in their own safe house – all four of them."

"Amelia was brilliant," Sirius said with a knowing smile. "She managed to pull some strings in the DMLE to have Dale Greengrass freed from Azkaban, just before the alarm was sounded. He was snuck off the island and back to his family just in the nick of time."

Harry sighed with relief at this news. But as he took in the occupants of the room, one notable absence stood out. "What about Mum?" he asked nervously.

James and Sirius exchanged a grim look. "We assume she's still at Hogwarts," said Sirius. "We sent her a Patronus, but she didn't respond."

"There hasn't been anything in the news about her, which is good," James sighed. "We just have to hope Severus can find a way to keep her safe."

Harry nodded slowly. As loath as he was to admit it, being with Snape was probably the second best option for his mother besides being here. Harry knew the man had survived the Fiendfyre, having seen him just before Apparating away from Malfoy Manor – hopefully he had a crafty plan to protect her. Or maybe Voldemort wouldn't even bother with her, assuming her to be truly estranged from the family. He always did underestimate the bonds of love, failing to realize that James and Lily could never truly be separated.

Then, one more pressing matter came to the forefront of his mind. "The Sword of Gryffindor," he said, looking to Dahlia with alarm. "It's not safe to handle. We have to retrieve it, we have to—"

"Relax, 'Arry," said Fleur with a small smile. "Ze Sword is taken care of. I brought it into Gringotts yesterday myself."

Harry took a moment to process this. The horcrux is gone, then? he thought in bewilderment. The Sword had not even been on his radar in the chaos of the evening, and yet, it had appeared to Dahlia in her moment of need. Suddenly another horcrux was taken care of without him even meaning to.

Then he remembered the encounter with Nagini at Malfoy Manor, watching the snake burn up in the Fiendfyre. "The snake is gone, too," said Harry, looking up to Fleur. Her eyes went wide as they both processed what that meant. The horcruxes are all destroyed. Well, all except for one…

"Clearly there is much to discuss," said James, eyeing Harry curiously. "Fleur mentioned that you two had been working on something in secret, but she did not elaborate."

"I wanted to wait for you to wake up," Fleur explained to Harry. He nodded gratefully...explaining the horcrux hunt would be a tricky conversation with James. He would no doubt have questions about Harry knew so much, which would unearth uncomfortable truths about his past. Fleur had the tact to let Harry do the talking, knowing how much he feared his parents' reaction to the truth.

"Yes, we'll explain everything soon," Harry muttered absent-mindedly. He reached across his body to feel for the stump where his arm had been. But to his surprise, he could not find it...he moved up his torso, surprised to find that his entire arm was missing up to the shoulder, where heavy bandages concealed the wound. He turned back to Dahlia, frowning in confusion.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Dahlia sighed glumly. "I tried to save your arm, but there was some kind of curse on it...I could not stop it, so we had to amputate again at the shoulder to stop it from spreading to your body."

"Oh," Harry said softly. He knew that arm re-attachments were technically possible in the wizarding world, though he instinctively knew that would not be possible in his case. Not only was the Dark Mark still attached to his forearm, the Sword had been a horcrux, meaning the wound was no doubt infested with dark magic. If anything, he was lucky not to have lost more of himself in the process.

Then, out of nowhere, Harry began to laugh. It began as a quiet chuckle, then grew into a deep chortle, until eventually he was cackling at the top of his lungs. The rest of the group stared at him in bewilderment. "'Arry, what's so funny?" asked Fleur.

"I just realized…" said Harry in between fits of laughter. "This is really going to impede my future Quidditch career."

Everyone just stared at him in bewilderment, wondering if he'd gone insane. And maybe he had. The thought wasn't funny at all, but it was a morbid reminder of how absurd Harry's life had become. Here he was, on the brink of death from fighting a shadow war against a madman, thinking about something as trivial as Quidditch! There were roughly three dozen other reasons why he would never play the sport again – what difference did losing an arm make at this point?

"Now that we know you're in a joking mood," James said grimly, "what the hell were you thinking that night? Dahlia told us you snuck off the train...Miss Lovegood told us about your mad break-out attempt...why were you anywhere near Malfoy Manor to begin with?"

"That's a long, long story," Harry sighed. Where could he even begin to explain the events leading up to the Manor mission? Everything he'd done as Phantom? The Grindelwald situation? The horcruxes? It would take hours to explain it all.

"And what's this business with the Sword of Gryffindor?" James demanded. "Andromeda filled me in yesterday about your Gringotts bribery scheme...what in Merlin's name have you been up to for the past year?"

Harry and Fleur shared a significant look at this. Dahlia once again piped up to salvage the awkward moment. "Maybe that's a conversation for another day," she said diplomatically. "Harry still needs to rest – he's been through a traumatic event, and he's lucky to be alive."

"That's a fine idea, Dahlia," said Sirius. "We've all been through the ringer in the past few days – let's take some time to decompress, and we can figure things out another day."

Harry nodded. His brain still felt like it was swimming in a thick soup, and his entire body ached. But at the same time, he was still burning with questions, aching to know all that had happened since the Malfoy Manor incident.

"What's going on at the Ministry?" he demanded, turning to James. "Are you still Minister? What's Voldemort been up to? How—"

"Slow down, Harry," James chuckled. "A lot of things are happening, but nothing you need to worry about right now."

"We've been in touch with Remus and Alessia on the continent," Andromeda added. "They're working to begin moving troops into Britain with the help of Cedric, Nymphadora and the rest of the resistance. Fleur's father is helping as well."

"I want to help, too," said Harry, once again trying to sit up as his father forced him to stay put. "If we're going to fight, I want to be there."

"The war's not going anywhere, son," said James. "I promise you're not missing anything important. Right now, the best thing you can do to help is heal."

"You 'ave done so much for this war already, 'Arry," Fleur said softly. "Please, for the love of Merlin, let the rest of us take care of things for a while."

Harry met her eyeline, seeing her firm gaze fixed upon him, giving him silent reassurance that things were being taken care of. He felt a swell of gratitude towards her in that moment...she knew what needed to be done next, and was taking over in his stead. It reminded him that he was not alone in this war, that he had loved ones supporting him every step of the way.

Suddenly, Harry heard an odd noise coming from elsewhere in the house. A foreign sound, one he had not heard for many, many years: that of an infant crying. He froze, looking to the others for confirmation.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked with wonder.

"Amelia had her baby," Sirius nodded with a smile. "The same night you turned up half-dead on the doorstep, in fact. I suppose the excitement of the day was too much for little Cassie to keep herself hidden away from us any longer."

"Cassie?" Harry repeated, heart leaping. "It's a girl?"

"We named her after my favorite great-aunt, Cassiopeia," Sirius grinned. "Four days old and she's already a handful. You're going to love her."

Harry smiled broadly at the thought. Despite the gloom and darkness around them, a new life had come into the world, and he could not wait to meet her. Happiness burned bright within him...he'd jumped through the Veil after Sirius to rescue him, and now here his godfather was, a new father, enjoying the life he always should have had. It was a reminder that, for all Harry had done wrong along his journey, he'd gotten a few things very right.

"You'd best get yourself healthy so you're able to hold your new niece," James suggested with a small smile. "We've got a lot to do in the meantime. Don't you worry about a thing, son." James and the adults departed soon after, leaving just Dahlia and Fleur at Harry's bedside.

"I need to go and check on Mr. Diggory," said Dahlia. "He's recovering at one of Fred and George's safe houses. Excuse me." She hurried from the room rather quickly...Harry suspected she wanted to give him a Fleur a moment alone. They looked at one another, unsure of what to say.

"I am very upset with you right now," Fleur chastised him, though her eyes told a very different story. "You were not meant to get into a huge battle without me."

"I'll be sure to invite you next time," Harry deadpanned. "It wasn't on my agenda for the evening, believe me."

"Luna told us about your duel with Grindelwald," Fleur added, eyes wide with fear. "'Ow on Earth did you beat him?"

"Er...I kinda didn't," Harry muttered, glancing over to his bedside table where the Elder Wand sat innocuously beside him. "Grindelwald got the upper hand and disarmed me, but the Wand still responded to my magic and caught him off-guard. I dunno how it happened. It's like I could still cast with it, even though it wasn't in my hand."

"How odd," Fleur muttered, brow furrowed in thought. "'Ave you ever been able to cast through a wand you were not holding at the time?"

"Only once I can think of," Harry muttered. He'd once wandlessly cast a Lumos in his original fifth year, when he'd dropped his wand while running from dementors with Dudley, but it had been inches from his face at the time, not meters out of reach.

"Well, we can ponder ze specifics another time," Fleur shrugged. "For now, I am simply glad you made it out alive."

"Me too," Harry chuckled. "So you are certain the horcrux in the Sword was destroyed? The goblins didn't lie to you?"

"I insisted that zey let me watch the purge," said Fleur. "They placed ze Sword inside a forge and burned it with dragon fire. All ze rubies and decorations were destroyed, and I saw ze black smoke of Voldemort's soul rise up with my own two eyes. When it was done, only goblin steel remained...Ragnok confirmed its purity himself and said our business was concluded. He even threw your contract into ze flames to destroy ze paper trail."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Now we just need to find Neville," he muttered. "He's the last thing preventing Voldemort from becoming mortal again."

"And 'ave you given much thought to what you will do when you find Neville?" Fleur asked.

"Not really," Harry muttered. He had been so preoccupied with finding all the other horcruxes that he hadn't managed to come up with a solution to the one in Neville's scar. The boy simply had to die in order to untether Voldemort from this reality, and he could see no way around it. All he could think to do was find the boy, then figure out the rest after.

"We do not 'ave to decide anything today," Fleur reassured him. "Just rest up, and mull it over in ze meantime."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry sighed. It wasn't like he had much better to do while confined to the bed.

"Oh...you are bleeding through your bandaging," Fleur remarked, glancing at his left shoulder. "Shall I change it for you?"

"If you don't mind," Harry shrugged.

Fleur drew her wand and knelt at Harry's side to attend to his wound. He winced slightly in pain as she unraveled the bandage and began to quietly mutter under her breath, cleaning the blood and re-sealing the wound. He watched her work, marveling at the look of intense concentration on her face, taking immense care not to hurt him further.

Suddenly Harry felt a strong wave of desire wash over him. Fleur's face was quite close to his; her long blonde hair tickled his face as she leaned over his prone form. He felt the sudden primal urge to pull her close and kiss her again, much like that charged evening at Raven House a few weeks prior.

"Er...Fleur?" Harry mustered. "Could you back up a little bit?"

"Am I 'urting you, Harry?" Fleur frowned, turning to examine his expression.

"No," said Harry. "It's just...your Allure is a bit overwhelming at the moment."

Fleur studied his face with a frown. "I am not using my Allure," she muttered. "I 'ave been suppressing it around you on purpose."

That didn't make sense to Harry. If she wasn't using her Allure, then why did he have such strong feelings towards her? It didn't make sense. Unless...unless those feelings were unbidden by an Allure. Perhaps they were brought on by something more natural – more genuine. Harry saw Fleur's face processing this too, no doubt coming to the same conclusion.

They made their minds up at the same time. The space between them disappeared as Harry pulled Fleur in close for a desperate kiss. And this time there was no mistaking it: she was eagerly returning the gesture, pressing herself into him with a contented sigh. Harry's heart soared as they finally gave in to one another, the last barrier between them dissolving at last.

Harry spent the next week recovering in his room in Grimmauld Place. His physical recovery was the quickest part...his severed arm was healing nicely, thanks to Dahlia's pristine medical work and his own augmented healing courtesy of the blood ritual the year prior. His magical exhaustion was another matter – the fight with Grindelwald had taken a lot out of him, not to mention the prolonged Fiendfyre exposure afterward, and the Occlumency required to keep Voldemort out of his mind via the Dark Mark. It made him feel sluggish and oddly empty inside, unable to remain upright for long.

Luckily, he had Fleur to keep him company. She stayed with him day and night, tending to his wound and sharing his bed, an arrangement that nobody else in the house seemed to question or be surprised by. The transition from friends to lovers felt seamless – they were already as close as two people could possibly be, so the physical component was just a natural next step. She brought him warmth and comfort at a time he badly needed it, and he could no longer imagine life without her by his side.

This is the future I want, Harry decided one night as he held Fleur close while she slept peacefully beside him. I'll fight for this future until my dying breath.

He was gradually drip-fed information over the coming days about developments in the outside world. Harry was now Undesirable #2 behind Neville, for the suspected murders of Barty Crouch, Lucius Malfoy, and the Lestrange brothers. James was Undesirable #3 as his 'accomplice'; he and all of his allies had fled the Ministry, with the Prophet quick to label him a deserter and a traitor to Britain. Gilderoy Lockhart had been named acting Minister of Magic in his stead, with the papers praising his comeback story after Rita Skeeter's 'vicious lies and smear campaign' against him five years prior. Harry could hardly believe that the public was buying into this obvious con.

Meanwhile, James was coordinating with Cedric, Tonks, Remus, Alessia and the resistance movement to determine a plan of attack against Voldemort. Progress was slow, which was good in a way, because Harry had yet to explain the Neville situation to his father. Hopefully by the time a massive battle broke out, the scar horcrux would no longer be a factor they had to worry about. Harry decided that that would be his primary focus for the time being.

According to the Prophet, Hogwarts remained in operation, despite the 'scandal' of several students being outed as co-conspirators against the government, including the Potters and Greengrasses. Snape remained Headmaster, giving Harry some hope that the entire subterfuge had not yet been unraveled. There was no mention of Lily in the press, meaning she would hopefully avoid any consequences for her estranged family's treachery.

But Harry knew the balance remained delicate, and they would not be able to remain in hiding forever. Voldemort surely wanted him dead, and he knew about Grimmauld Place, even if it was protected by the Fidelius Charm. Sooner or later he'd figure a way to get to the Potters before they were ready to fight. And Harry refused to be weak and bed-ridden when the Dark Lord eventually came knocking.

So against Fleur and Dahlia's protests, he began venturing from his room to build his strength up again. He could not walk for more than five or ten minutes at a time before exhaustion overcame him, but he fought through it, pushing himself to walk up and down the stairs several times a day to get some semblance of exercise. His muscles ached and his magic screamed for rest, but he would not remain idle. Time was not on his side, and he refused to give up the advantage he'd fought so hard for against Voldemort.

Eventually he felt strong enough to remain upright for longer than an hour at a time. He began joining the family for meals and spending time in the library reading to pass the hours of recovery. "D'you reckon I could meet Cassie now?" Harry asked Sirius over dinner one evening.

"Oh...yes, I suppose so," said Sirius thoughtfully. He retreated to his own bedroom to check on Amelia and fetch the baby while Harry settled on the sofa. He emerged with a bundle of cloth, within which was wrapped the tiniest, most precious little human Harry had ever laid eyes on. Cassie Black was practically the size of his hand, a thin wisp of pitch-black hair adorning her crown. She squirmed softly in her father's arms, and Harry felt like he might melt into a puddle of joy from the sheer cuteness.

"Can I hold her?" he asked as Sirius sat beside him.

"Er…" Sirius hesitated. "I'm not sure that's the best idea right now, kiddo, given your...condition."

"Oh," said Harry. Frankly, he was getting sick of having only one arm, which greatly limited his ability to perform simple tasks. Even eating and cleaning himself was more of a hassle than he was comfortable with. He knew it was not something he wanted to continue to suffer through, and he'd begun formulating a plan days prior, so he decided to put it into action now.

He reached into his pocket for the Elder Wand, which he now refused to part with. He tapped it to his injured shoulder, and the bandages fell away, exposing the mangled flesh that had been magically sealed shut. Then, ignoring the protests of Dahlia and everyone else around him, he pressed the tip of the Wand to the stump and began to utter incantations under his breath.

Magic flowed from the Elder Wand into his shoulder, causing his entire left side to burn with a hot but not-too-unpleasant sensation. The entire room watched with wonder as a shimmering limb began to grow out of the wound – flesh, blood and bone stitching itself together and running down his side. Harry felt his stamina draining fast, but he persevered, pouring magic through the Wand until the job was done.

When he finally pulled the Wand away, he had a brand-new arm in place of the old, looking slightly pale and unnatural but fully intact all the same. Harry flexed and stretched the arm to test its strength; it tingled mightily as blood pumped through the new arteries, and the muscles needed strengthening, but it appeared to work just fine.

"Bloody hell, how did you do that?!" Dahlia demanded. "Healers can reattach limbs, but we can't grow them out of nothing like that!"

"Indeed, that magic is far too advanced for a seventeen year old," James agreed, looking bewildered. "Where did you learn that spell, Harry?"

"Oh, just something I picked up along the way," Harry muttered vaguely. In truth, he'd never studied or cast the spell before, but it felt like ancient knowledge he'd been able to pluck out of nowhere. He supposed it was because Albus Dumbledore had used the very same spell to regrow his own arm two years prior. The Elder Wand somehow retained that knowledge, and therefore Harry was able to emulate it, much like the other seemingly impossible things the Wand allowed him to do.

"Clearly there's a lot you have to tell us," James sighed. "I know you've been dabbling in magic you oughtn't for far longer than you've let on."

"That's true," Harry sighed. "And I promise I'll tell you everything. But right now, I want to meet my newest family member."

Harry beckoned for Cassie once more. Sirius hesitated briefly before sighing and gently handing the baby over to him. Harry's newly-grown arm screamed in discomfort as he accepted the weight, but nothing in the world could make him drop such a precious package. He nestled the little girl in the crook of his right arm, a silly grin plastered on his face as he marveled at her tiny features. Cassie blinked sleepily up at him, her light-gray eyes staring up at him with innocence and wonder.

"She must like you, Harry," said a new voice. He looked up to see Amelia in the door frame, looking pale and exhausted but otherwise healthy. "I haven't seen her this quiet and still since she popped out."

"Darling, you should be resting," Sirius chided his wife, standing to help her to the nearest seat.

"Please, Sirius, I'm not a fragile vase," Amelia huffed, shaking him off as she sat under her own power. "You don't have to fuss about me breaking every five seconds. Women are hardier than you men give us credit for."

"Congratulations, Amelia," Harry smiled. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you, dear," said Amelia, smiling at the sight of Harry holding her daughter. "I'm glad to see you're alright. When the Galleon showed all zeroes, I assumed the worst had happened."

"It almost did," Harry muttered, as he let little Cassie play with his fingers. She cooed and fussed in his arms, looking innocently up at him, not realizing all the awful things he'd done to protect her. The men he'd killed. The men he still intended to kill. Will she think me a monster when she's grown and learns what I really am? Harry wondered. But for the moment, he was content to know that his family had grown in size by one, and he would defend her life even if it meant killing a thousand more evil-doers.

Suddenly, there was a distant whoosh as the Floo activated in the other room. Instantly the adults went on high alert; James, Sirius and Andromeda sprang to their feet; Harry instinctively shifted Cassie to his newly-grown arm and flicked the Elder Wand to his hand, aimed at the doorway as footsteps approached from down the hall.

Then, the last person he expected walked through the doorway. "I...I wasn't sure if I'd be accepted by the wards," Lily stammered, eyes wide at the wands trained upon her. "I hope I'm not intruding—"

James crossed the room in a flash and embraced his estranged wife with a groan of relief. Harry's heart soared as his parents clung to one another, hugging and kissing as tears streamed down their cheeks. Even Dahlia, who normally blanched at such public shows of affection, beamed brightly at the sight.

"Are you alright, darling?" asked James, cupping Lily's face in his hands. "Did he hurt you?" It took Harry a moment to realize James was referring to Snape, not Voldemort.

"Severus did a brilliant job keeping me safe," said Lily. "He convinced You-Know-Who that I had no knowledge of the resistance movement, and his mental scans proved that correct. But once he realized I might be used as a pawn to lure you into a trap, he allowed me to run and find you."

Harry once again marveled at Snape's display of selflessness. He'd risked everything to protect Lily and her children, and was now willing to let her return to her rightful family if it meant keeping her safe.

Lily's eyes landed on Harry, still holding Cassie protectively. "Is that...my granddaughter?" she said weakly. "I did not think Daphne was due for several months still…"

The adults all exchanged amused expressions. "Actually, she is mine," Amelia said apologetically. "There's clearly much to catch you up on."

The rest of the afternoon was spent filling Lily in on everything that had happened since she left to join Snape the previous summer. She was delighted to hear about the dual wedding and Remus and Alessia's ongoing efforts to help Muggle-borns flee to the continent. She was slightly crestfallen when Harry revealed he was not the true father of Daphne's child, but quietly pleased to learn that Andromeda was not truly pregnant by James' doing.

"What's been happening at Hogwarts, dear?" James asked. "There's been very little news out of the castle since we all fled."

"It's a madhouse," Lily chuckled darkly. "The students are in full revolt. The Carrows have been attacked multiple times in the halls, and it's taking everything Severus has to keep a hold of them all. Ginny Weasley trained quite the little resistance army over the last year."

"Isn't she worried about being punished again?" Harry frowned. "Voldemort must know she's the ringleader behind all this."

"Oh, Ginny fled the day after you all did," said Lily. "Disappeared from the castle without a trace. Severus claims ignorance to how she did it, but I suspect he helped her escape. I imagine she's back with her family now."

"That's good," Harry muttered. He wondered if Ginny would tell her family the truth about her 'punishment' earlier in the term. Would they understand his true intentions? Or would the Weasley family continue to loathe him?

"Other than that, the school's been running as normal," Lily sighed. "Oh, except Divination has been canceled. Professor Gorschev just disappeared over the break – how odd."

"Er...Mum, Professor Gorschev was Gellert Grindelwald," Harry said awkwardly. "Voldemort broke him out of Nurmengard and disguised him as a professor to regain his strength."

Lily's eyes went wide. "Merlin," she breathed. "I always got a bad feeling about that man. But to think...an actual Dark Lord, walking the same halls as my children? Where has he gone?"

"He's dead," Harry said grimly. "He challenged me to a duel, and I killed him."

"I'm sorry...did you say you dueled the Dark Lord Grindelwald?" Sirius said slowly, eyes widening in horror at his godson. "And you beat him?"

"Yes," Harry nodded tiredly, causing all the adults in the room to gawk in disbelief. "I got incredibly lucky, truth be told. It's a long story."

"I think 'Arry needs to rest," said Fleur, sensing Harry's waning stamina. "He can tell ze full story another time."

"How about later tonight?" James suggested, eyeing Harry warily. "I would still like to know what you two have been up to over the past year."

Harry nodded in agreement, and Fleur helped him back up to his bedroom for a nap. But he did not fall asleep, still mulling over this impending discussion with his parents that he so dreaded. And Fleur could sense his anxiety.

"Tell me what you are so afraid of, mon chéri," Fleur whispered as she stroked his hair beside him.

"I don't know if I'm ready to tell them the truth about who I am," Harry said weakly. "I'm afraid they won't accept me once they realize I've replaced the boy they raised for eleven years."

"You may not 'ave been raised by them, but they 'ave loved you for the last seven years all the same," Fleur reasoned. "And you are still their son."

"But not the same one they thought they knew," Harry lamented. "I've done so many awful things, Fleur. I've killed so many people. I'm afraid they'll think their child has been replaced by a monster."

Fleur considered this in silence for a moment. "Let me ask you something," she said. "After you killed Bellatrix Lestrange, did your parents stop loving you?"

"Er...no," Harry admitted. "But that was different—"

"And when you killed Albus Dumbledore, did they reject you?" Fleur continued. "Did they turn you away and refuse to ever look at you the same way?"

"Not exactly," Harry muttered. "But still—"

"I think you continue to feel like a fraud because you were not raised by people who loved you," said Fleur. "You think that you do not deserve your parents' love, that it belongs to someone else. Am I right?"

Harry was stunned by these words – he'd never heard it framed in such terms before. "Er...I guess so," he muttered. "The Dursleys were never affectionate towards me."

"And you think if your parents knew the truth, they would start behaving like the Dursleys."

"Maybe," Harry sighed. "I know it sounds stupid. But you don't know what it's like to not have parents who love you. I never thought I would have that, and I got a second chance to experience it. And I don't want to risk losing it ever again."

Fleur nodded in understanding. "It is your decision to make," she said. "But your sister accepted it with no problems, and I think your parents will too. Nothing you tell them could ever make them love you less."

Harry hoped she was right. It was possibly an irrational fear that he would lose their trust, but an all-consuming fear all the same, one that scared him even more than Voldemort did. He would have to think carefully about how he wanted to approach the subject with them, if at all. But Fleur's words reassured him, reminded him that he was probably overthinking things. She curled into him in the bed, and he gradually managed to fall asleep, clinging to her possessively.

Hours later, Harry and Fleur descended into the living room. Dahlia and Damian had retired to bed, leaving the five adults to converse quietly over tea. They all perked up at the new arrivals, clearing space for them to sit on the sofa.

"Feeling better?" James asked his son.

"Loads, yeah," Harry nodded. His strength was finally starting to return to him, and his body was adjusting to the new limb he'd grown, which was rapidly acclimating to being a part of him.

"I still want to know how you did it," Sirius chuckled, watching intently as Harry flexed and stretched his new arm. "I've never seen magic like it before."

Harry sighed and pulled the Elder Wand out of his pocket. "I suppose we should start with this, then," he muttered.

"Yes, where did you get that?" James asked. "That's not the same wand I remember you buying from Ollivander – we found that one shattered in your robes pocket when you arrived."

"Dad, do you remember when I asked you for a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard a couple years ago?" asked Harry. "You mentioned that your grandfather believed the Potters were descended from the third brother in the tale about Death."

"Ah, yes," James smiled wistfully. "Your great-grandfather Henry loved to tell that story. He believed to his dying breath that the Invisibility Cloak in the tale was the same one passed down through the Potter line."

"Well, he was right," Harry sighed. "The Deathly Hallows are real. And this is the Elder Wand."

The other adults stared blankly at him. "But that's just a fairy tale, dear," Lily frowned.

"It's not," said Harry. "Dumbledore won the Wand when he defeated Grindelwald, and I wound up with it last summer. The Cloak was passed down the Peverell line to you, Dad, until Dumbledore borrowed it because he knew what it really was. And Fleur and I found the Stone a couple years ago."

He reached back into his pocket and procured the silver ring, which was still inset with the Resurrection Stone. He tossed it to James and Lily, who examined it carefully, marveling at the triangular inscription of the Hallows on its weathered surface.

"It's said that this Stone can revive the dead," James muttered. "But that's preposterous."

"It doesn't work like that, exactly," said Harry. "It's more like an echo of their souls. You saw your parents with it last winter, after the Minister's Ball."

James blinked in confusion at this. "I think I would have remembered something like that," he scoffed.

Harry groaned...he'd had to Obliviate the memory from James' mind to prevent Lockhart from seeing it. He did not know if it was possible to restore memories after they had been erased. But he felt the Elder Wand in his hand urging him forward, so he pointed his wand at his father and whispered, "Erudiare."

James gasped as the blockage on his mind lifted, and the memory of that night flooded back into his mind – the ghostly figures of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter giving him comfort in his time of need. When Harry was finished, tears streaked down James' cheeks as he relived the moment as if for the first time.

"I've had dreams about my parents visiting me that night," James choked. "It kept me going through many of the hard times. Thank you, Harry." And he handed the ring back, still quietly weeping as Lily consoled him.

"But then...doesn't that mean you have all three Hallows?" Sirius frowned. "If you have the Wand and the Stone, and the Cloak belongs to the Potters?"

"Neville still has the Cloak," Harry muttered. "He took it with him when he went on the run. Dumbledore's plan was to give him all three pieces and use them to defeat Voldemort. I sorta ruined those plans by accident."

"So Dumbledore knew the Hallows were real?" said Amelia. "Were you planning to find them together?"

"Not exactly," said Harry. "Dumbledore and I didn't get along too well. He thought I was going dark, and refused to share information with me. So I did the same to him. Neither of us knew the other was holding one of the Hallows until it was too late."

"So that's what you have been doing all this time, then?" asked James. "Searching for the Deathly Hallows?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Finding the Stone was a complete accident. We were actually looking for something else at the time."

"Something else?" Lily frowned. "Like what?"

Harry and Fleur shared a grim look. "Did you ever wonder how Voldemort survived the first war?" Harry asked the room. "Why he couldn't be killed?"

"We did think it was odd," Sirius muttered thoughtfully. "But then again, so was Longbottom surviving the Killing Curse. Some strange Dark magic, wasn't it?"

"He survived thanks to something called a horcrux," said Harry.

James' eyes immediately went wide – he alone seemed aware of what that was. "He made a bloody horcrux?" he breathed. "That is some foul, foul magic."

"He made seven," Harry corrected, causing James to pale even further.

"Sorry, what's a horcrux?" asked Lily, looking to her husband with a frown.

"It's a vessel that holds a part of a person's soul," James explained. "It requires an act of murder to perform, and once completed, the person cannot be killed as long as the horcrux remains intact."

"That's horrifying," Amelia gasped. Lily, Andromeda and Sirius nodded in agreement.

"The Cup of Hufflepuff was one of them," said Harry, looking to Andromeda with a grim expression. "So was the Sword of Gryffindor. And the Diadem of Ravenclaw, the Locket of Slytherin, the Gaunt ring, the Riddle diary, and the snake Nagini. But they're gone now. Fleur and I found them all and destroyed them."

"All this time, you've been hunting and destroying Voldemort's horcruxes?" said James, aghast. "All by yourselves? Why did you ask for help?"

"We did have help, for a time," Harry pointed out. "Saul Croaker was the first person I approached for help, before his death. And Bill Weasley, until I had to wipe his memory for my own protection."

"We were going to tell you last summer," Fleur said to James. "But then ze Ministry was attacked, and it was too dangerous to tell anyone else with Lockhart around."

"Oh, my dear boy," Lily sniffed, crossing the room to engulf Harry in a hug. "To have such a terrible burden upon you, from such a young age...I can't imagine how frightened and alone you must have felt."

"But...I don't understand," said Sirius, brow furrowed in thought. "How was a teenage boy able to figure all of this out when nobody else alive could?"

Harry felt a pit form in his stomach at this question. This was the moment of reckoning...should he explain the full truth now about his past? Should he drop the bombshell that he was not from this world, that he had come back in time to right a past wrong? He felt Fleur grip his hand for support and knew she would have his back no matter what he decided. Still he felt that gnawing, pervasive fear gripping his heart, terrified of what they might say.

But Lily was surprisingly the one to answer first. "Isn't it obvious?" she said to Sirius. "Our Harry has seen things about the future nobody else can see with his Sight. Isn't that right, dear?"

Harry hesitated – he'd nearly forgotten all about his previous cover story of being a Seer. "Yes, that's right," he eventually mustered. "I had visions about the horcruxes and confirmed their existence years ago. I've been hunting them ever since."

He met Fleur's expression and saw the subtle disappointment in her gaze. I will tell them, he tried to silently communicate with her. Just not today. It's too much for them to take all at once. She seemed to read his mind, nodding grimly in acceptance.

"But...how?" James asked, still trying to wrap his head around this concept. "How have you managed to hunt and destroy seven horcruxes, all while you've been at Hogwarts year-round?"

Harry sighed...he knew it was going to be a long story. He began from his second year, explaining the circumstances surrounding the diary that had opened the Chamber of Secrets. He then moved on to third year, with Pettigrew breaking into the castle to steal the diadem to be used in Voldemort's resurrection ritual. He meticulously broke down how he identified and located each and every horcrux, slightly altering details here and there to avoid uncomfortable questions about his prior knowledge of things.

The other adults listened with rapt attention, occasionally muttering under their breath or shaking their heads in bewilderment at the risks he'd taken on his journey. He also described his hunt for the Elder Wand, and his visit to Nurmengard to speak with Grindelwald. James and Lily especially looked horrified as he described fighting his way out of the ICW's grasp.

He finally caught up to the present day, explaining how Nagini had burned up in the Fiendfyre at Malfoy manor and Dahlia pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat. "And then I woke up here, without an arm," he concluded with a tired sigh. "But now the horcruxes are all gone."

"Do you think You-Know-Who will notice all of his horcruxes are missing?" Lily asked worriedly.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "We dealt with the first four without him noticing. Nagini died by complete accident, so he won't suspect that she was being targeted specifically. And the Sword was probably hidden somewhere far away, where his followers wouldn't even be aware of its existence...unless he decides to randomly check on them, he won't suspect a thing."

"But then that means…" Sirius said slowly. "That he's mortal again? If he's killed, this time it will be permanent?"

"That is good news," James agreed. "That means we can take the fight to him, and finish him off for good!"

"Yes, maybe," Harry said hesitantly. "But we need to find Neville Longbottom first. I need to talk with him urgently before we fight."

"Why Neville?" asked Lily. "Has he been helping you too?"

"It's not more of this prophecy nonsense, is it?" James frowned. "Dumbledore was so convinced that boy would be our savior because of that crackpot Trelawney woman."

Harry shared a grim look with Fleur. This was the moment of no return: should he tell them about the true nature of Neville's scar? What kind of can of worms might he open by letting more people in on the terrible truth that the boy was unwittingly keeping Voldemort alive?

"I...need to discuss the Deathly Hallows with Neville," Harry eventually sighed. "I have two and he has one. Our chances of beating Voldemort might improve if one of us is holding all three."

"Well, then it should be you," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "That Cloak is yours, isn't it?"

"Sirius Black!" Lily gasped. "What are you suggesting? That Harry takes on Voldemort himself? He should be nowhere near the man! Let James or somebody else fight him!"

"I can beat him," Harry said confidently. "I've faced him three times over the past year and held my own. And the next time, I won't have to hold anything back."

He did not admit his own self-doubts about his chances against Voldemort. As the duel with Grindelwald had proven, he was still at a disadvantage against such a powerful and advanced wizard. The Elder Wand was not infallible, and it had been a fluke that he survived the first Dark Lord, one he could not count on again for the second.

"I don't like it, Harry," James muttered. "You're seventeen, and he's the most powerful wizard alive. With or without that wand, he could be the end of you."

"He'll be the end of all of us if somebody doesn't stand up to him," Harry said resolutely. "I won't let him take over the world. And if there's any truth to that prophecy, I'm giving myself or Neville the best chance of winning."

There was a long silence at the adults grappled with the immense weight of those words. Lily was trembling quietly beside James, tears forming at the prospect of her son seeking out Voldemort again. Even Sirius, normally the first to crack a joke in such tense moments, stared at his godson with a haunted expression.

"We don't have to decide anything right now," James eventually muttered. "We have much to plan before any kind of fight takes place. If Neville decides to show his face in the coming days, we'll sit down and hash it all out together."

"Agreed," Harry nodded. He felt Fleur shifting uncomfortably beside him and knew what was on her mind. And when they retired back to bed that night, she confronted him in short order.

"You did not tell them about ze scar horcrux," she muttered. "Why?"

"I just…" Harry sighed, struggling to put it into words. "I feel like Neville deserves to find out before anyone else does, you know? It's his life on the line, and he has a right to know what's coming to him before everyone decides his fate for him."

"But what if your family has any ideas for 'ow to save him?" Fleur suggested.

"Like what?" Harry demanded. "I've already delved deep into dark magic looking for a solution and found none. We've been brainstorming for years and we're no closer to solving it. Even the great Albus Dumbledore, after fifteen years of planning and research, could only come up with the crackpot 'Master of Death' plan. All we would accomplish by telling everybody else is freaking them out for no gain."

"So you're convinced that Neville cannot be saved," Fleur deduced.

"I'm convinced that he should be part of the bloody conversation!" Harry snapped. "How would you feel if everyone else was making plans for your life without you getting a say?"

"I know it is not fair what has 'appened to Neville," said Fleur gently. "But zis is an important matter—"

"Then Neville had bloody better make himself known soon," Harry huffed. "Before someone else makes a decision about his future for him."

Fleur remained silent for a long while after this. "We will talk about this another time," she sighed, rolling away from him to sleep. Harry stewed for a while longer, knowing it was foolish to snap at her for simply raising the important questions. But he still felt stubbornly protective of the topic, knowing that they were doing precisely what he'd resented Dumbledore for doing in his last timeline. Harry would have demanded the truth in Neville's position, and if he truly was doomed, he would have wanted to know before his future was wrenched from him so cruelly. Neville deserved that much grace, despite all his faults.

Fleur was absent from the bed when Harry awoke the next morning. He assumed she was off with the resistance, making plans with her father for the coming invasion. Was she upset at him for last night? Did she think he was being foolish by keeping the truth about Neville to himself – not to mention the truth about his past?

We're so close to the end now, Harry thought to himself. No use in jeopardizing everything by having that information fall into the wrong hands. He hated himself for thinking that way, knowing that was the same justification Dumbledore had used all those years. But Harry had long accepted that he and Dumbledore were more alike than he wanted to admit. They both felt the crushing burden of responsibility and did not trust others to share it. Generational trauma passed down from one misanthropic wizard to another.

He figured he would apologize to Fleur as soon as she returned that evening. She was right, after all: it was crucial information to the war, information that could decide the result of the coming battle. If Neville did not show up promptly, he would share what he knew with the others. As much as Harry hoped for a solution to the boy's problem, he was still a liability. The remaining horcrux had to be destroyed, even if it meant committing a terrible deed to do so, one that Harry would never forgive himself for. Just one more addition to the list of unforgivable acts I've committed, he thought grimly.

But Fleur still had not not returned that evening when he went to bed. He wondered if he'd truly screwed things up, if she was having second thoughts about her association with him, much like she had with Bill. Was she planning to leave him? To wipe his memories of her and start over anew? The thought filled him with dread, realizing that he never wanted to be apart from her again.

He would seek her out in the morning, he decided. He would beg her forgiveness and agree to work out a more productive solution. Neville be damned, she was the most important thing in his life now, and he would not jeopardize that over such a petty squabble. He drifted off to sleep hoping that things could still be patched up between them.

It would be much sooner than expected before he got the chance to.

"'Arry? 'Arry, wake up."

Harry's eyes flew open, but saw nothing before him. It was late, and Fleur had returned, but the light was out and she was knelt beside the bed rather than beneath the covers with him.

"Fleur," Harry sighed groggily, reaching out towards her with relief. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. It wasn't fair to you—"

"Never mind all of that," Fleur whispered. "Get dressed. There is something I must show you."

Harry was still tired, but he sensed the urgency in her tone and got up at once. He gathered his things in the dark, throwing on a traveling cloak and grabbing an emergency Portkey just in case. He then wordlessly followed Fleur from the room and down the stairs through the silent townhouse.

They paused in the entryway, and Harry expected Fleur to take his arm and Apparate them somewhere. Instead, she reached into her robes and procured a small slip of parchment. "Read this," she said.

Harry unfolded the paper and read: 'The safe house of Viktor Krum is located at Number 11, Walnut Lane in Ashbury.' He immediately felt a thrill of anticipation as the magic of the Fidelius Curse accepted him. He was finally going to speak with Viktor Krum. He recognized the neat cursive handwriting on the parchment, but could not immediately identify who had written it.

"You managed to convince him to meet with me?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes," said Fleur. "But 'e is still skeptical. You will need to convince him. Are you ready?"

"I suppose so," said Harry, nonplussed. Fleur seemed more anxious than he expected, but he knew how essential Krum's help could be in the war to come. He had the ability to bolster their forces and help to unite the entire continent against Voldemort – of course Harry would do anything to bring him into the fold.

"Quickly now," Fleur muttered, taking his arm before Harry could say more. She spun them into oblivion, and they emerged in a sleepy village in the countryside, small houses peppering the landscape. The home they had appeared in front of – Number 11 – looked nondescript, but Harry felt the thrum of magic surrounding it, indicating a wizarding dwelling.

Fleur led the way through the gate and onto the property of the home. The front door opened, and Viktor Krum emerged from the home, meeting them on the front steps. "Evening, Fleur," he greeted her curtly. "Harry."

"Viktor," Harry nodded politely. "Thank you for inviting me." He saw the wand held loosely in Krum's right hand, and was very careful to keep his own hands open and non-threatening, in order to put the man at ease. But that seemed to be easier said than done.

"I must ask you to surrender your wand before entering my home," Krum said stiffly. "Just as a precaution."

"Er—" Harry hesitated as Fleur grimaced beside him. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Viktor. I refuse to be apart from my wand in such uncertain times. I mean no disrespect nor harm by it."

Krum scowled...he'd clearly anticipated such a response. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Just know that my wards vill harm you severely if you attack anyone in my home."

"Understood," Harry nodded. He indeed sensed such dangerous ensnarements in the air around him, and had no intention of finding out what they would do. "So long as I do not have to defend myself."

"You haff my word you will not be harmed," Krum said solemnly. Harry nodded, knowing he would have to trust the man at his word. It wouldn't do to start their meeting with such suspicion and distrust.

Krum beckoned them inside, and Harry found a much larger interior than he expected. While the home looked to house only two or three bedrooms from the outside, it was far more expensive within, with a large foyer, several hallways branching away from the center, and even a second story connected by a spiral staircase. Harry wondered if there were others staying here – perhaps this was meant as a staging ground for new recruits being smuggled onto the Isles.

Krum led the way into an ornate dining room, with a long wooden table fit to seat twenty but currently standing unused. He sat at the head of the table, beckoning for Harry and Fleur to join him; they obliged, sitting nervously on either side of him. Krum studied Harry for a long moment of silence, skepticism and curiosity on his face.

"Can I get you anything?" Krum asked abruptly. "I haff no house-elves here, but I can fetch you water if you would like—"

"I'm fine, thank you," Harry said quickly. He was far more interested in learning what Krum had summoned him here for.

Krum swallowed hard as he decided how to begin. "I haff much to share with you," he said uncertainly. "But I am still unsure if I can trust you vith what I haff to say."

"I can understand your hesitance," said Harry. "And I would be happy to explain myself – provided I can trust you to keep your silence as well."

Krum nodded thoughtfully at this. "It seems that an Unbreakable Vow is in order," he suggested. "Would you agree to perform one?"

Harry considered the idea. "I would," he said. "As long as I can set a few conditions of my own."

"Very well," said Krum. "Fleur, vill you do the honors?"

Harry and Krum leaned forward to clasp hands as Fleur hovered her wand over them, thin bands of golden light connecting them. "Does Harry Potter agree to keep vot he learns tonight to himself, unless given permission by Viktor Krum?" said Krum.

"I agree," said Harry. "So long as none of the information endangers myself or my family." Krum nodded, and the magic bonding them flared to life, sealing the promise.

"Does Harry Potter agree to tell only the truth in response to Viktor Krum's questions tonight?" asked Krum.

Harry pondered the request. "I may not be able to answer every question directly," he said tentatively. "But I promise to tell no lies." Krum nodded in begrudging acceptance, and the magic of the Vow once again flared in response.

"My turn," said Harry. "Do you promise not to take any action that will directly harm me or any of my loved ones?"

"I do know know who you consider a 'loved one'," Krum scowled. "But I haff no intentions of acting maliciously against you or your family. Provided they do not serve the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Harry shrugged in agreement with this, as the Vow accepted the terms. "And do you swear not to repeat any of the information I share with you tonight?" he added.

"I vill speak of it with nobody outside of those in this room," said Krum. Harry nodded, and the magic flared once more. The two men broke apart, the magic between them dissipating as Fleur ended the spell binding them together.

"Fleur tells me that you wish to join forces against the Dark Lord Voldemort,"said Krum.

"I do," said Harry.

"But you haff been his follower for the past year," Krum pointed out. "Explain."

"Not by my own choice," said Harry. "My entire family was captured after the Battle of London was lost. Voldemort was going to kill us all. But I convinced him to keep us alive and use us for his purposes, to prevent the public from revolting. My father became his puppet in the Ministry, and I was branded with the Dark Mark to do his bidding."

"Why vould he not kill you?" Krum pressed. "Considering all you haff done against him in the past?"

"He was sufficiently convinced I had turned dark," said Harry. "Severus Snape was feeding him misinformation about me to sway him, to protect me. And he felt that he could use me as a poster child for his new regime to keep Hogwarts in line."

"And vas that your intention in returning to Hogwarts?"

"My intention was to keep my family alive at all costs," said Harry. "And that meant keeping up appearances. I had to do some regrettable things, yes, but only the barest minimum to keep Voldemort in the dark about my true plans."

"Which were?"

"Sorry, I can't share all the details with you," said Harry. "But it was all in service of defeating Voldemort."

Krum nodded thoughtfully at these words. Harry wondered what was going through his mind – whether he believed what he was hearing or not.

"You killed Albus Dumbledore," Krum went on. "Before even accepting the Dark Mark. Why?"

"Didn't have a choice," said Harry. "He was going to die either way. I made sure his secrets would not fall into Death Eaters' hands in the only way that did not draw suspicion."

"But you ambushed him atop the Astronomy Tower," Krum pointed out. "And disabled him before any Death Eaters even showed up."

Harry blinked in surprise...Krum knew much more about the events of that night than he realized. "He ambushed me, as it so happens," he huffed. "I never had a chance to identify him before I was forced to defend myself. I didn't realize he was up on that Tower at the time...in fact, I had planned to speak with Dumbledore that very evening, to make plans against Voldemort, not deliver his body to the man."

Krum's face remained unreadable as he considered Harry's response. Harry could not make heads or tails of what he was looking for...did he really not see the truth that was so blatantly obvious by now? Was this just Krum's odd way of thoroughly vetting allies? Even after what they'd done together in the past?

"One last question," said Krum. "Vot is your relation to Neville Longbottom?"

"Neville?" repeated Harry, genuinely confused now. "We were friends – well, kinda, at the start. More like acquaintances, I suppose. Only, Neville started to view me as an enemy around our fourth year, and there was nothing I could do to convince him I wasn't some budding Dark Lord."

"Yet you haff been looking for Longbottom," Krum surmised. "Why? Looking to enact revenge?"

"What? No!" Harry exclaimed, still wondering how Krum had figured all of this out so fast. "I need to talk to Neville urgently. In order for this war to end."

"And vot do you need to talk to him about?" Krum pressed.

"I can't tell you that," said Harry. "It's between me and him. But it's essential to the war, believe you me."

Krum continued to eye him warily. "How can I believe vot you are telling me?" he sighed. "Would I be a fool to tell you vot I know, when you haff been at the Dark Lord's side for the past year?"

Harry sighed and massaged his temple in frustration. He was getting tired of being distrusted...why was Krum being so obstinate, after all they'd been through? Hadn't Fleur explained all of this to him already?

"Look, I don't give a rat's arse if you believe me or not, Viktor," Harry groaned. "I want the bastard Voldemort dead at all costs. D'you hear me? I'll follow him to the outer rings of hell and back if it means erasing his existence from the planet for good. My business with Neville is my own, but frankly, I don't care if he likes me anymore or not. Whether he's truly the prophesied 'Chosen One' destined to defeat the Dark Lord, or I'm forced to throttle Voldemort with my own bare hands, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if I die trying."

Krum nodded thoughtfully at these words. A full minute passed after Harry's impassioned outburst. Then another minute. Harry could not explain why, but he sensed a tension in the room, something being left unsaid between them. Fleur was shifting nervously in her own seat...did she too know something he did not?

Eventually Krum grunted and turned to his right. "Satisfied now?" he said, seemingly addressing no one at all.

Harry frowned in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, before he suddenly felt the magic in the room shift around him. A familiar magic he had not felt in nearly a year.

There was a rustling of fabric in the corner of the room. Harry turned in time to see two torsos appear out of nowhere, previously concealed beneath an Invisibility Cloak. Suddenly he found himself face to face with Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, each eyeing him warily from across the room.

A/N: You're all going to kill me, but this will unfortunately be the final update of the calendar year. I will be out of town for most of December, and believe me when I say this was the only logical stopping point that wouldn't leave you all on an unbearable cliffhanger. But the end is in sight now, and once I return in early January, it will be full-throttle to the finale. I expect to be done with the fic by February or March at the latest. So happy holidays, and see you all in 2026!