Year 5-09: Fragmentation

The night that followed was one of the longest of Harry's life.

He and Dahlia were not allowed into the ward to see their father while the Healers frantically worked on him. Sirius and Remus arrived an hour later to stay with them in the hallway, offering empty platitudes and reassurances that everything would turn out okay.

Harry knew that Arthur Weasley had pulled through in his last timeline, but would the same prove true now? What if Neville was too late to raise the alarm? Then a more sickening thought occurred to Harry: what if his Occlumency lessons with the boy had raised his mental barriers enough that he didn't recognize the vision until it was too late? Harry was helpless as the late-night hours wiled away, left to wonder if he'd unintentionally gotten his father killed.

Word didn't come until early morning, the first rays of sun peeking in through the windows when Lily emerged from the ward, looking exhausted but relieved. "He's going to make it," she announced with a tired smile. "He's stable now."

"Thank Merlin," Sirius groaned, sinking back into his chair with relief. "I couldn't imagine...James, being gone...I don't know what I would have done…"

Gone after your other best friend, perhaps? Harry thought grimly, thinking of his last timeline. But he joined in the celebrations, hugging his mother, sister and surrogate uncles in relief.

The Healers wouldn't allow them to see James until late that afternoon. Harry shuffled in behind his mother, clutching Dahlia's hand for support. Their father was heavily bandaged and still under magical sleep, looking sickly and pale but nonetheless breathing. The skin on his bare chest was shiny and unnaturally smooth-looking...the same way Harry's own skin had looked after he survived Pettigrew's explosion two years prior. How much of him did they have to regrow? Harry shuddered at the thought.

"Blimey," Sirius breathed as they stood over his prone form. "He hasn't looked this pale since we slipped doxy eggs into his breakfast in our fifth year. Remember, Moony?"

"Ah, yeah," said Remus with a sad smile. "He spent three days straight in the loo after that, spewing out both ends—"

"For Merlin's sake, you two," Lily huffed, slapping them both on the shoulder. But she too smiled softly at the memory.

Despite the reassurance that their father would pull through, Harry and Dahlia both opted to stay with James for the remainder of the day. Lily, Remus and Sirius returned to their respective homes to get some shut-eye, as the two siblings sat at James' bedside and chatted quietly while he slept.

"How did Neville know that Dad got attacked?" Dahlia asked.

"It's complicated," Harry muttered. "You know how his scar gives him glimpses into Voldemort's mind? Well, it allowed him to see a vision of the snake that attacked Dad. Voldemort likely possessed the snake and forced it to do his bidding."

Dahlia's eyes went wide. "You-Know-Who can possess snakes?" she asked fearfully.

"And people too, if you've forgotten," Harry said pointedly. "Remember the diary?"

Dahlia blanched at this reminder – she herself had been a victim of that particular plot. "Will Neville be alright?" she asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted quietly. "Dumbledore and Snape are helping him learn Occlumency to block out any potential invasions into his own mind. Just don't make a big deal about it around Neville, and don't talk about it with other people."

"I won't," Dahlia muttered. "I'm just worried about him."

Once again Harry found himself puzzled by the true nature of his sister's relationship with Neville. She'd harbored a childhood crush on him since before Hogwarts, then he'd reciprocated the crush at the Yule Ball, yet now they seemed to be just distant friends. But Harry knew better than to stick his nose into his sister's business, so he kept quiet.

The Healers ushered the two of them out later that evening to attend to James' wounds and let him rest. Dahlia decided to Floo home to Godric's Hollow to get some sleep, and while Harry was quite exhausted himself, he opted to stay in the ward outside James' room. He didn't like the idea of leaving his father alone in such a vulnerable state, and had an odd feeling that something bad could happen to him if he wasn't watched closely.

Harry was jerked awake later that night by a commotion just down the hall. He sat up and turned to see three men marching down the hallway towards him: Minister Fudge, flanked on either side by Lucius Malfoy and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Fudge was determinedly shaking off a Healer that was attempting to stop him from entering the ward.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said Fudge coldly as they arrived at James' door. "Your father doing alright, then?"

"Looks to be," Harry said guardedly, standing to face the three men suspiciously.

"Glad to hear it," said Fudge, though his tone didn't sound like he meant it at all. "We'll just be popping in for a quick visit."

Fudge made to step around him to the door, but Harry put up a hand to stop him.

"He's resting at the moment," said Harry firmly.

"That's perfectly fine," Fudge said indifferently. "We just need to ask him a few questions, then we'll be on our way."

"He's not taking questions at the moment," said Harry. "He needs time to recover."

"Oh, step aside, Potter," scoffed Lucius. "No need to make your family's predicament even more difficult—"

Harry's wand was in Lucius' face before he could finish his sentence. "Don't even think about it," he snarled.

"Lord Malfoy here is acting as my witness this evening," Fudge said snippily. "Your father was discovered in a restricted area of the Ministry while not on official Auror duty, and inquiries must be made."

"You're not getting in there," Harry said firmly. "No chance."

"I don't have time for your childish games today, Potter," Fudge huffed. "Shacklebolt, detain this boy!"

Kingsley looked startled by this order, hesitating for a moment as he eyed Harry. "Be reasonable, Cornelius," said Kingsley in his deep and reassuring tone. "Young Harry here is obviously distressed after nearly losing his father. Perhaps we'd best come back another day when things are less emotionally charged, as I suggested this morning?"

Fudge deflated slightly at Kingsley's words. He glanced at Lucius – it was obvious to Harry that this surprise questioning had been Malfoy's idea rather than his own. "Hmph...yes, perhaps," Fudge conceded. "But be warned, Mr. Potter: I don't respond well to threats against Ministry officials."

"Good thing Mr. Malfoy here isn't a Ministry official," Harry said coolly as he slowly lowered his wand from Lucius' face. "Perhaps you'd best bring one with you next time? I'm sure Amelia Bones would be happy to accompany you."

"Yes, I'm sure she would," Fudge grumbled. And he turned to exit the ward, Lucius close behind him. Kingsley paused to give Harry a brief 'calm down' hand gesture before following the other two men out of St. Mungo's.

Harry re-took his seat, heart hammering. Of course he knew that he would only cause more problems by butting heads with Fudge (and Malfoy) once again, but he didn't care. There was zero chance he was letting Malfoy anywhere near his father in such a vulnerable state. He would sooner fend off an army of Aurors and Death Eaters combined than risk anything more happening to James.

Luckily, it didn't come to that. The next time Harry woke up from his uneasy sleep, it was to his mother gently shaking his shoulder. "You look dreadful, dear," Lily appraised him. "Why don't you go home and sleep like your sister?"

"I'm fine," Harry yawned. "Is Dad awake yet?"

"Not yet, but the Healers said he might wake up this afternoon. They should let us back in soon."

When they were allowed to enter again, Harry noticed that his father looked marginally better than the day before. He was still unconscious, but his skin was slowly regaining its usual shade and his breathing was no longer shallow and pained. It allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief that the danger had passed and his father would indeed pull through from his injuries.

Remus and Sirius came by again later that day with Dahlia in tow. They sat around in James' room, casually chatting and catching up on Harry and Dahlia's school year. Sirius approved of Harry's secret defense group, though Remus and Lily urged him to be careful and avoid Percy's ire at all costs. According to Lily, Fudge was going spare trying to find reasons to get James fired without causing a firestorm within the Ministry.

"Fudge was here last night, while you were all sleeping," said Harry. "Malfoy was with him."

"He came here?" said Remus, suddenly looking alert. "Whatever for?"

"Said he had questions about my dad's whereabouts," said Harry. "I didn't let them in."

"Fudge and Malfoy wanted to get into James' room, while he was unconscious?" Sirius growled. "The bloody nerve!"

"Kingsley was with them, and he helped defuse the situation," Harry sighed. "But we should probably have someone watching his door at all times. I don't put anything past Malfoy at this point."

"That's a good idea," Remus muttered. "Sirius and I can take turns on the night shift."

"As can I," said Harry. "I don't feel comfortable leaving him alone when he's so weak."

"I'm sure he would have been fine, dear," Lily said placatingly. "Kingsley wouldn't have let anything bad happen to him."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry muttered. He wish he shared her optimism – he knew the lengths Lucius Malfoy would go to knock down a rival. Had they all forgotten about the diary incident already?

There came a knock at the door, and Albus Dumbledore strode into the room. "Is now a good time?" the Headmaster asked politely.

"Of course, Professor," said Lily, jumping from her seat to greet the man at once. "So good of you to stop by."

"I wished to express my deepest condolences for this accident," Dumbledore said in a remorseful tone. "And my relief that Auror Potter is going to pull through. Our world would have lost a great man, a great man indeed."

Harry felt his intense resentment towards the Headmaster returning in full force at these words. Spare us your crocodile tears, he thought angrily. You put him in that hallway knowing something could happen. Knowing that there is nothing of value to be lost within. All of this was completely avoidable.

"You're too kind, sir," Lily said with a small smile as she clasped Dumbledore's hands. "We Potters are forever grateful for all you've done for us, and as soon as James is better, we'll do what we can to—"

"Out."

The rasping voice caught everyone's attention. They turned to see James, still lying flat in bed, but with both bleary eyes opened. His arm was raised weakly in the air, pointing a trembling finger at Dumbledore.

"Did you say something, dear?" Lily said, rushing back to her husband's side.

"You," James rasped, ignoring his wife and continuing to glare at Dumbledore. "Get. Out."

An awkward silence followed. Lily looked gobsmacked by her husband's rebuke, as Dahlia stared wide-eyed between the two men. Dumbledore's face remained expressionless as he processed James' words.

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a polite nod. "I'll give your family some privacy. Also, I wish to inform you all that the next Order meeting will take place this Saturday, though we will all understand if you are unable to attend." And with that, he turned and swept from the room, leaving the four Potters alone again.

"What on earth was that?" Lily demanded, as Harry returned to his father's side. "How can you talk to Albus Dumbledore like that?"

"His fault," James rasped. "Not welcome here."

"Oh, honestly, James!" Lily huffed. "I know you disagreed with the guard rotation scheme, but that's no reason to lose your temper with the man."

A monitor at the bedside beeped, and a Healer rushed into the room to attend to it. "His heart rate is elevated," he said, tapping the monitor to silence it. "I'll need you all to clear the room for a few minutes while we tend to him."

"Certainly," said Lily, standing and motioning for her children to follow. Harry stood, but James suddenly grabbed his wrist and kept him by his side.

"Harry," he said weakly. "Come here."

"Okay," Harry muttered, sitting back down and scooting his chair closer to his father.

"The Order meeting," James said with some effort.

"Don't worry about that, Dad," said Harry at once. "We don't have to be there. You heard Dumbledore; no one would be surprised that we skipped it given what's happened—"

"No," said James firmly. "You will go. Represent the family."

"Me?" Harry frowned. "Erm...alright, if you're sure."

"Deliver a message," James said. "Here is what you will say…"

A bevy of surprised faces greeted Harry when he emerged through the Floo at Grimmauld Place a few days later. He endured a parade of well-wishes, as just about every member of the Order came up to him to express their relief that James survived his attack. Harry politely received each of them, shaking hands and accepting their kind words.

Dumbledore called the meeting to order soon after, and everyone took their places around the conference table. Harry sat directly to Dumbledore's left, opposite Snape, as everyone filled in around them.

"Thank you all for coming," said Dumbledore once everyone was seated. "We are missing a few people this evening, as you can see, but given the circumstances, I think we can all excuse Lily, Remus and Sirius' absences."

"Hear hear," grumbled Moody, as others murmured their own assent.

"Let's begin with the matter of Auror Potter," said Dumbledore solemnly. "As most of you are now aware, he was injured while on guard duty at the Department of Mysteries. Lord Voldemort sent his snake familiar to scout out the area, and it fled after the attack. Thankfully, James was discovered in time and should make a full recovery."

"How was he found so quickly?" asked Molly Weasley.

Dumbledore glanced briefly at Harry before answering. "That, I'm afraid, is a confidential matter. But regardless, we will have additional measures in place to ensure the safety of anyone stationed there in the future."

"So we are expected to continue the guard rotation?" asked Tonks skeptically. "Knowing that one of us might be attacked again?"

"I'm afraid it remains of the utmost importance," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort continues to obsess over the prophecy contained within the Department, and we must prevent him from obtaining it."

Says you, Harry thought mutinously. You don't mind throwing a few Order members under the bus if it means buying yourself a few months' time to prepare. And based on the skeptical looks of the other members, clearly many were thinking the exact same thing.

Dumbledore turned to Snape next. "What news do you bring from the latest Death Eater meeting, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord was most displeased to learn that Auror Potter survived the attack," said Snape. "He is currently furious with Lucius Malfoy, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I suspect that he was ordered to assassinate Potter in St. Mungo's, but he failed to do so."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned to him. He knew instinctively that it was a bad idea to let Malfoy anywhere near his father. To know that he may have indeed saved James' life by refusing him entry was both unsurprising and utterly chilling. I'll make sure you don't survive our next encounter, Lucius, Harry vowed silently.

"I suspected something was afoot when Fudge and Malfoy left the office late that night," said Kingsley. "I insisted on accompanying the Minister, as a bodyguard, and thankfully he agreed. Malfoy seemed displeased by my presence, and by Harry's refusal to grant them entry."

"Please keep me posted on Malfoy's activities within the Ministry in the coming weeks," Dumbledore nodded, before turning back to Snape. "And what do we know of Voldemort's personal plans for the near future?"

"He remains focused on learning the prophecy's contents at all costs," said Snape. "He has not made the specifics of his plans known to me, however."

Because he knows you're a spy, thought Harry. He was beginning to wonder what Dumbledore hoped to achieve with Snape, who was clearly only revealing information Voldemort wanted the Order to know. By relying on his information, Dumbledore was ensuring that the Order was always one or two steps behind Voldemort's plans. It only reinforced the feeling that Harry had walked into today's meeting with.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "Now, our next order of business—"

"Actually, sir," Harry piped up. "While we're on the topic of my father, he has asked me to say a few words in his stead."

"Oh...by all means, Harry," said Dumbledore, gesturing for him to stand. Harry did so, turning his back on the Headmaster to address the others.

"My father wants to say thank you to everyone who has sent their well-wishes over the past week," Harry announced. "He looks forward to reconnecting with each of you once he has fully recovered in the near future. However, he regretfully must announce his withdrawal from the Order of the Phoenix."

There was a shivering second of silence following this statement. Then, all hell broke loose.

"But he can't!" spluttered Kingsley. "Surely he can't!"

"What does this mean for the rest of the Aurors?" asked Tonks fearfully.

"We have to remain together!" exclaimed Arthur Weasley. "Or You-Know-Who will win for certain!"

"I must agree with Arthur," said Dumbledore, looking alarmed. "I find this decision troubling and counter-productive. What reasons could he possibly have for leaving?"

"My father remains committed to fighting the threat of Voldemort," said Harry simply. "However, he has lost confidence in Albus Dumbledore to lead us through this war, and does not wish to take his orders any longer."

The Order looked positively stunned at this announcement. Then Mundungus Fletcher scoffed, "Well, if Potter's out, I'm sure as hell not sticking around." A few of the Aurors glared at him mutinously, while many others seemed on the verge of agreeing with him outright.

"My father does not wish to encourage others to leave the Order," said Harry. "Nor does he intend to start his own following. He will coordinate with the Order when he deems it necessary, but no longer wishes to be a participating member."

Everyone remained frozen in place, looking from Harry to Dumbledore, as though unsure what to do.

"Well, I'm disappointed to hear this," said Dumbledore mildly. "I can't imagine he can be convinced to change his mind?"

"He says that any owls addressed to him at the Ministry will reach him, once he recovers of course," Harry shrugged. "My mother and I will also be resigning our memberships, for the record. I cannot speak for Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, but I am sure they will inform you of their own decisions shortly. Good day."

With that, Harry turned and left the room before anyone could stop him. As he reached the fireplace and activated the Floo, he heard the shouts and commotion behind him signaling that the Order meeting had officially descended into chaos.

Harry knew that this announcement would be devastating news to many of the members. James Potter was nearly as respected as Albus Dumbledore, and to learn that the two public figures were now at odds would no doubt shake their resolve. Hopefully it'll make them think twice before taking blind orders, Harry thought hopefully. Who knew which one of them would be thrown into harm's way next in the name of some greater good?

His statement was not entirely truthful, of course. James didn't wish to turn anyone completely away from the fight against Voldemort, and he was ready and willing to recruit members to his own Order if they split off from Dumbledore's ranks. But for now, there was value in having two separate groups tackling the same problem from different angles, so that one flawed individual wasn't calling all of the shots. Harry agreed with the logic, and he hoped everyone else would too once they calmed down from the initial panic of the decision.

There was no time to second-guess the decision, either. The following evening saw yet another Order meeting, this time of the Stag variety, as Harry took the Floo to Remus' home. This splinter group deserved to learn what had happened at Grimmauld Place the night before, and make their own decisions about the future.

Harry strode into the dining room; at once, Sirius, Remus, Alessia, Amelia Bones, Dale Greengrass, and Barty Crouch Sr. stood to greet him. There was also an unknown woman seated to Sirius' left; Harry did a double-take and nearly drew his wand on the woman, heart skipping a beat as he thought he recognized her.

"Harry, have you met my cousin Andromeda?" asked Sirius, gesturing to the austere-looking witch. "She's Tonks' mother."

"I refuse to call my Nymphadora by her surname," Andromeda sniffed haughtily, extending her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"Likewise," Harry nodded. He now saw the striking resemblance she bore to her older sister Bellatrix, which had caused his initial knee-jerk reaction. He knew from his previous timeline that Andromeda had been struck from the Black family tree for marrying a Muggle-born, but with Sirius now acting as Lord Black, she must be back in the family's good graces.

"How's your father doing, Harry?" asked Dale worriedly as everyone took their seats.

"He's on the mend," said Harry. "The Healers want to keep him for a few more days, but they've finally figured out how to stop the bleeding."

"Good, that's good," sighed Amelia Bones. "But he's feeling well enough to travel tonight?"

"Er...not exactly," said Harry. "He won't be here this evening. I'll be running the meeting in his stead."

There were looks of confusion around the table. "No disrespect, Harry," said Remus slowly. "But this group was your father's idea. Perhaps we'd best wait for him to recover before we meet."

"And what if my father had been killed by that snake?" Harry asked pointedly. "Would this little group disappear? Would our efforts against Voldemort be wasted? He would want us to continue on without him."

"But he's not dead," Remus pointed out. "And he's the one with the most power to affect change here."

"Not necessarily," said Harry. "The Auror Office is an important piece, but there are many angles of attack. Mr. Greengrass has been working with the Wizengamot, Mr. Crouch with the international community, and Sirius has been attacking the Death Eaters' finances."

"And we 'ave been working with ze werewolves," Alessia reminded Remus. "I think 'Arry is right...we all 'ave something to contribute."

"I personally wish to spend as little time in Britain as possible," bristled Barty Crouch. "I will share what I have here and it can be relayed to James at a later date."

"Very well," Amelia sighed. "Where should we begin?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," said Harry. "My parents and I have withdrawn our membership. My dad does not trust Dumbledore any longer."

"What?!" Remus exclaimed. "We can't separate ourselves from Dumbledore! He's the only person who can stand against You-Know-Who!"

"That doesn't mean he should be calling all the shots in this war," Harry retorted. "His decision-making has led to a lot of people getting hurt or killed for no good reason. This incident in the Department of Mysteries was the final straw."

"Well, if James is leaving Dumbledore's Order, then so am I," said Sirius decisively.

"You should keep going to meetings," Harry encouraged him. "We may not want to take orders from Dumbledore anymore, but we need to know what he's up to all the same. Besides, their headquarters are at Grimmauld Place, which gives us leverage if we need it."

"Leverage," Sirius grumbled unhappily. "Everything I own is just bloody leverage now."

"Look on the bright side," Harry pointed out. "The Black family is rolling in their graves right now watching you use their wealth as a weapon against their favored Dark Lord."

Sirius had to chuckle at this thought. "Maybe I ought to just strike Bellatrix and Narcissa off the tree right now," he mused. "My darling mother would spontaneously combust."

"It's more useful to keep them under the Black family umbrella," Andromeda pointed out. "In case we need to extend our leverage against them as well."

"What, so that little shit Draco can make a play at Lord Black?" Sirius scoffed. "As if I'd give him the chance."

"That goes both ways, cousin," Andromeda pointed out. "What if Lucius Malfoy or Rabastan Lestrange were to die? As Lord Black, you could theoretically make a claim for their assets. There are ancient family laws and agreements in place that allow for such maneuvers."

"Damn pure-blood politics," Amelia Bones grumbled unhappily.

"I'm not thrilled about it either, Lia," Sirius chuckled. "I already have more money than I know how to spend. What good would it do to seize the Malfoy or Lestrange fortunes?"

"Because it means Voldemort can't get at them anymore," Harry pointed out. "Even if you don't succeed, freezing their accounts while a claim is made could buy us valuable time. Waging a war is expensive."

"Don't I know it," Sirius grumbled. "Dumbledore has requested more funds at least three times since summer. I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Harry turned to Crouch next. "How are things in France?" he asked. "Have you made contact with Mr. Delacour?"

"Indeed I have," said Crouch. "He has made inquiries within the French Ministry, but there is little interest in assisting Britain on this matter. However, he believes we may have more luck with the ICW."

"The ICW?" Harry asked.

"The International Confederation of Warlocks," explained Crouch. "Every wizarding nation has a representative, and they meet once per year. It is mostly a diplomatic organization, but it does have the capacity to conscript an army if enough vote for it. The last time it happened was during Grindelwald's War."

"Isn't Dumbledore the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW?" asked Lupin aloud.

"He was, up until a few months ago," muttered Dale Greengrass bitterly. "He was voted out by the Wizengamot over the summer for defying Fudge's story about You-Know-Who being abroad."

"Who is the British representative?" Harry asked.

"There hasn't been a set representative since the last one resigned in the 70's," Dale explained. "The Wizengamot appoints one member every year to attend meetings and report back."

"We should make sure it's you this year," Harry said firmly. "We need someone there that can advocate on Britain's behalf."

Dale blanched at this suggestion. "That, well, may make me some enemies," he said. "It's usually Avery or Nott or one of their lot."

"That cannot happen," Harry said firmly. "If Britain's own representative is advocating against foreign aid, what hope is there? With respect, Mr. Greengrass, the time for neutrality is over. You need to make your stance known and align with the Light, lest we allow the Dark faction to take over."

"You don't understand politics, Harry," said Dale. "The Greengrass family has successfully maintained neutrality for centuries. I would be throwing all of that hard work away, and potentially jeopardizing my own family in the process."

"My family is about as jeopardized as it gets," Harry said pointedly. "But we always do what is right, no matter the consequences."

"Right, too right," Dale muttered, not sounding too convinced. To Harry it seemed glaringly obvious what must be done, but he did understand the man's reluctance. How would Daphne's reputation within the castle be affected if news got out that their father had aligned with the Potters? Would the Greengrass clan become a higher-profile target for Voldemort in the coming war if Dale made problems for him in the courts?

"Regardless of who the representative is," said Crouch, "how are we going to persuade the other nations to send troops here?"

"By convincing them that Voldemort poses a threat to their own citizens," said Harry. "We'll use this Albania cover story as a starting point, then make the argument that he will wish to expand his sphere of influence abroad. I should write to Krum about that...if he can convince the Bulgarian representative to advocate for our cause, plus some of the surrounding Balkans, we might stand a chance."

"You fancy yourself a world politician, Mr. Potter?" Crouch smirked. "It's a nasty game, but I reckon you might be a fair hand at it."

"I just want Voldemort dead," said Harry frankly. "And I don't care how many bridges get burned in the process. If this war ends with my family's reputation in the mud and that bastard gone, that will be okay with me."

"I will speak with the French representative, then," said Crouch. "The next ICW summit is in early June, so we have some time to start amassing support."

"Good," Harry nodded. "Lastly, I'd like to discuss Azkaban."

"The prison?" asked Amelia Bones. "What of it?"

"Voldemort will attempt to breach it soon," said Harry. "Can you authorize more security to prevent a mass break-out?"

"Not without Fudge's approval," Amelia muttered. "I can try to convince him to up the number of dementors on duty—"

"Not dementors," Harry shook his head. "They can be turned against the Ministry too easy by a Dark Lord like Voldemort. We need real, human guards there to prevent an attack."

"You would put more lives at risk, Harry?" Remus asked gently. "Isn't this exactly what you and James criticized Dumbledore of doing at the Department of Mysteries?"

"The difference is, Azkaban actually matters," Harry pointed out. "Do we really want Bellatrix Lestrange and a dozen more deadly threats out on the streets again?"

Nobody could argue that point. Amelia still looked troubled, however. "I'll see what I can do," she sighed. "Fudge has not been a fan of mine lately, since I refused to pursue legal charges against James for his out-of-bounds incident."

"And there's really nothing to be done about Fudge?" Harry groaned, turning to Dale. "We can't call for a vote of no confidence or anything?"

"Sure, we could," Dale shrugged. "But it would fail, as nobody wants to ruffle feathers right now. And it would only increase the odds of anyone opposing Fudge getting the boot."

Harry nodded glumly. Despite Crouch's insistence to the contrary, Harry hated the game of politics and resented that he even had to attempt to play it. He felt backed into a corner, forced to fight this war with one arm tied behind his back despite all of his advance knowledge of future events. All he could do was persevere and do whatever he could without risking his neck – or that of his friends and family.

The meeting was adjourned soon after, and the group began to disperse, with Crouch, Bones and Greengrass all heading directly to the Floo to return to their duties. Remus and Sirius both approached Harry and clapped him appreciatively on the shoulders like proud uncles.

"That went alright, I think," Harry sighed.

"You did brilliantly," Sirius beamed, giving Harry a hug. "Your father would've been proud to see you take charge like that today."

"You may be young, but you are a natural leader," Remus agreed. "None of us like to think what might have happened if we lost James, but I know you would carry on in his stead if it came to it."

"Let's hope that doesn't become necessary," Harry groaned. "Congratulations on the potion approval, by the way. How's progress coming along?"

"It's going tremendously well," Remus smiled. "Thankfully, the Department of Regulations for Magical Potions operates largely independent of the Ministry at large, so they weren't swayed by Fudge's nonsense trying to slow us down. Want a tour of the new facility?"

"Sure," Harry agreed.

Remus led the way down into the basement, which had been magically expanded several times since Harry's last visit. It now resembled a miniature factory, with cauldrons simmering on low heat, a slew of measuring devices on long tables, and endless rows of cabinets, each full of supplies and vials.

Remus led the way towards the back of the space, into a chilled room separate from the rest of the facility. Harry felt a wave of magic pass over him as they crossed the threshold into the room. "This is where we keep the most sensitive ingredients," Remus explained. "I imagine you're familiar with this one?"

He tapped his finger to a cabinet full of vials, each filled with a putrid green liquid that Harry recognized at once. "Basilisk venom," Harry muttered. "Did all this come from the one in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Heavens, no," Remus chuckled. "These have been imported from basilisk farms abroad, mostly in South America. Prohibitively expensive, which is why we badly needed Ministry funding to move forward. Each vial contains around twenty drops of venom, and is worth a small fortune by itself."

Harry whistled at the thought. He knew from his correspondences with Bill just how hard it was to obtain basilisk venom, even on the black market. The man had been trying to obtain it for months now with little luck, to deal with their little horcrux problem. And here it was, staring Harry in the face through a glass pane...the potential solution to un-tethering Voldemort's soul from this reality.

"And here's the finished product," said Remus, turning to a sealed container at the very back of the room. He muttered a pass phrase under his breath that Harry didn't catch, and it snapped open, releasing a white cloud of condensation. Remus reached in and delicately withdrew a small vial of liquid, handing it to Harry for examination. The teen stared in wonder at the swirling liquid, a mixture of fiery orange and deep green – the duality of the phoenix and the basilisk, working in unlikely harmony.

"This is the stuff that can cure werewolves?" Harry asked in wonder.

"Sure is," Remus grinned. "The crowning achievement of your mother's career. The basilisk venom seeks out and destroys the lycanthropy in the body, while the phoenix tears prevent it from ravaging the rest of the body."

"Brilliant!" Harry smiled. He had never imagined such a thing to be possible, and felt immense pride in what Lily had accomplished. He'd often assumed in his last timeline that people were only exaggerating his parents' brilliance for his benefit, but to see it firsthand was truly awe-inspiring.

"Darling?" a voice called out from the main facility; Alessia walked into the room, dressed in a white lab coat. "Can you 'elp me for a moment? One of ze cauldrons boiled over and made a mess."

"Of course," said Remus, delicately taking the vial back from Harry and stowing it away. "Don't wander off too far, Harry, I'll be right back." And he hustled off after his girlfriend to tend to the accident.

Harry's eyes were immediately drawn back to the cabinet of basilisk venom. With a glance over his shoulder, he pulled the cabinet door open and cast a quick diagnostic charm on the row of vials. He sensed a handful of enchantments on each one: an alert ward tied to the door, an anti-theft charm, and some kind of identification charm, likely tied to whatever device kept track of inventory in the facility.

Working quickly, Harry picked up a vial and deactivated the first two enchantments on it while leaving the third intact. Hopefully the latter would trick the system into believing all the vials were still accounted for, and nobody would catch the discrepancy for some time. He then slipped the vial into his pocket and closed the cabinet door before casually strolling out of the room.

He felt badly for stealing from his mother's business, especially such an expensive and dangerous product. But he knew it was for a good cause. Destroying the soul of the most dangerous Dark wizard of the century seemed like a noble enough reason to commit a victimless crime.

After a brief tour of the rest of the facility and fighting to maintain a straight face, Harry excused himself and returned home to Godric's Hollow. He immediately brought the basilisk venom into his room and locked it in his closet, throwing several protective wards around it for good measure so no one accidentally stumbled across it.

Luckily, it wouldn't have to remain hidden there for long. He had a meeting with Saul and Bill the following week, which he made sure to confirm via owl. The three hadn't communicated much over the past few months, as each was busy with their own work. Harry had school, Bill had work on top of his discreet inquiries about the horcruxes, and Saul was ostensibly preparing the Department of Mysteries for an imminent Death Eater invasion.

They met the day before New Year's Eve, with the Ministry nearly empty from all the employees out on holiday. Saul didn't look particularly thrilled to be there, nor did Bill, who arrived slightly late and looking frazzled.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered as he shut the door to Saul's office behind him. "Been busy lately."

"Work with the goblins keeping you occupied?" Saul asked sympathetically.

"Erm...well, work, and other things," Bill said evasively, face flushing red a bit.

"Like a Veela girlfriend?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.

Bill turned to him, astonished. "You knew about that?" he chuckled. "Well, I suppose you did compete against her last year in the Tournament…"

"Yes, Fleur's an old acquaintance," Harry agreed. Though he hadn't learned of the budding relationship from her, either. He could read between the lines, having corresponded with both Bill and Fleur over recent months and hearing them both skirt around the topic of relationships outside of work. And given what he knew from the previous timeline, it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Well, I'd say you're a right lucky bastard," Saul huffed as he rolled his eyes at Bill's bashfulness. "But we have more pressing matters to attend to. What do you have for us today, Harry?"

"This," said Harry, as he pulled the vial of basilisk venom out of his pocket Both Saul's and Bill's eyes went wide.

"Where the bloody hell did you get that?" Bill demanded. "I've been trying to source some for weeks!"

"Nicked it from my Mum's potion stores," said Harry.

"That was incredibly reckless," Saul scoffed. "What if someone comes looking for it?"

"I'll come up with some excuse," Harry shrugged. "But either way, what's done is done. Shall we do the honors?"

"Allow me," said Bill grimly, as he gently took the vial from Harry. "I've overseen a handful of horcrux destructions in my time abroad, so I know what needs to be done."

Saul led the way into his secret sub-office, reaching into a cabinet to retrieve the small marble box that contained the locket horcrux. He set it on the table in the center of the room and opened the lid. Harry felt a wave of malevolent magic wash over him; he shuddered and suppressed the sudden instinct to flee.

"The marble should contain the venom," Bill explained as he cautiously approached the box. "But I should warn you: the magic of the horcrux might fight back once it realizes it's being threatened. Be on your guard."

"You think the locket could attack us?" Saul asked worriedly.

"More likely the magic will lash out against our souls," said Bill. "Have your Occlumency barriers ready just in case it attempts something like a possession."

That was certainly foreboding. Harry drew his wand and steeled himself as Bill prepared the vial. He uncorked it and conjured a small stopper over the lid, tilting it over the locket. The golden device looked innocuous enough as Bill gently poured three droplets onto its metallic surface.

For a moment, the green liquid sizzled softly on the outer shell of the locket. Then, as it began to seep through into the inner chamber, the locket abruptly popped open of its own accord. Harry, Bill and Saul caught a brief glimpse of a bright red eye, leering up at them from within the locket.

Then, they were violently expelled backwards. Harry hit the wall behind him and slid to the ground as a maelstrom seemingly erupted from the marble box – a swirling dark cloud of evil magic that was somehow sentient, exerting its malevolent will upon them.

"Harry James Potter," a disembodied voice whispered directly in his ear. Harry flinched – it was as though Lord Voldemort was inches away from his face. "I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

Harry felt a vicious assault upon his mind and struggled to keep the foreign presence out. He realized now just why Neville was having such a hard time – Voldemort was no easy presence to repel, his magic worming its way into seemingly every crevasse of his mind, viewing his memories at will. Feeding on his deepest fears.

"You will never belong in this world," the voice of Voldemort taunted him. "You are an impostor. Your parents will never love you once they learn the truth. Your dear sister will resent you for stealing her only brother away. You should have chosen death when you had the chance."

You're not real, Harry thought, struggling to keep the dark presence away. You're just feeding on my emotions and fears. You don't really know me.

The swirling maelstrom grew in size and intensity, and Harry was forced to clamp his eyes shut and cover his ears from the chaos. He could hear the muffled groans of Saul and Bill nearby, telling him that they, too, were struggling with the evil spirit. Harry could only cower in the corner and pray that the venom would do its job, that the entity would be destroyed along with its host…

As if on cue, the disembodied voice of Voldemort gave an inhuman screech of pain. It began to gurgle and choke as the maelstrom faded, allowing Harry to open his eyes once more. The powerful magic had receded, like a genie returning to its bottle. Despite the continued feeling of foreboding, Harry forced himself to his feet, feeling compelled to witness the end for himself.

He strode forward and peered cautiously into the marble box. The venom had eaten its way cleanly through the locket now, leaving a hole in both shells and a rotting husk of what was once its insides. The scream of Voldemort was fading now, in its final death throes. Then the locket abruptly broke apart, falling to pieces as a wisp of black smoke rose from the box and disappeared, the scream going with it. The room was eerily silent now as Harry stared blankly at the remains of what had once been part of Voldemort's soul.

Bill and Saul gingerly picked themselves up from the floor, looking shell-shocked. "That was awful," Bill groaned, clutching his head.

"Congratulations on having the Dark Lord in your head and surviving," Harry said sardonically.

"Did you hear what it was saying?" said Saul weakly. "It told me things about myself...things I thought nobody knew…"

"It feeds on your insecurities," said Harry. "The magic is probably designed to make you flee once it feels threatened. Luckily, it didn't count on us using basilisk venom."

"About that," Bill grimaced, holding up the vial. It was cracked along one of its sides, and only about a third of the original volume of liquid remained. "Some of it spilled when we were thrown back. We lost a bit of the venom before I could repair the vial." He pointed to a shallow divot in the ground, where the spilled venom had no doubt been happily eating away until Bill could Vanish it.

"As long as we have enough to destroy any others we find," Saul muttered.

"Maybe one or two more," Bill sighed as he examined the remains. "After that we'll have to find more. Unless either of you two can cast Fiendfyre?"

"Come again?" said Harry.

"Morbid joke," Bill laughed hollowly. "Don't ever mess with Fiendfyre. It can destroy horcruxes, but not even the goblins mess with it. Too dangerous and difficult to control."

Of course Harry's mind immediately resolved to research Fiendfyre and determine its risks for himself. You can take the boy out of Gryffindor… he thought bemusedly.

"Well, I can't say this method was all that fun, either," said Saul, eyeing the broken locket warily. "Hopefully the others aren't nearly this bad."

"Look on the bright side," Harry pointed out. "At least this horcrux didn't summon a deadly centuries-old monster and threaten hundreds of Muggle-borns at a boarding school."

Both Bill and Saul looked appalled by Harry's quip. I thought we were doing gallows humor today? Harry thought, shaking his head.

"So let's go over what we know," said Saul, turning his attention to a whiteboard on the wall. "The diary and the locket are now destroyed, and the diadem has been reincorporated into the Dark Lord's body. We now have good reason to believe Hufflepuff's Cup is another one." As he spoke, a charmed marker began to chart out the known horcruxes for them to see.

"That's four," Bill muttered. "Theoretically leaving two unaccounted for."

"The snake," said Harry, realization dawning on him. "Voldemort has a snake familiar named Nagini. It attacked my dad."

"You think it's a horcrux?" asked Bill, looking skeptical.

"Neville witnessed the attack," said Harry. "Only, he saw it through the snake's perspective, the same way he can see through Voldemort's perspective. It has to be, hasn't it?"

"That stands to reason," Saul muttered. "I've never heard about a living horcrux before, but I suppose if Longbottom himself is one, it clearly isn't impossible." The charmed marker wrote 'Snake' underneath the other four objects listed.

"That leaves a sixth we don't know about," Bill mused. "And we're certain it isn't the Sword of Gryffindor? It matches the pattern of the Founders' objects."

"I seriously doubt it," Harry frowned. "It wasn't one in my last timeline, and I can't see how Voldemort would have gotten his hands on it this time."

"It would make sense for him to try and complete the set," said Saul thoughtfully. "Especially knowing that his diary was destroyed. We should consider it a strong possibility."

The charmed marker wrote 'Sword' on the list, with a large question mark beside it.

"It can't have been the sixth one, though," Harry pointed out. "There's still one we don't know about. Any ideas what it could be?"

"Your guess is as good as ours," Bill shrugged. "Your job is to research his past, isn't it? Look for clues about what he values and such?"

"I'm working on it," Harry grumbled. He supposed a conversation with Augusta Longbottom was long overdue, and mentally made plans to find a way to visit the Longbottoms sooner than later.

"What about the shack at Little Hangleton?" asked Saul. "We've known about it for months and haven't moved on it yet."

"We should do so soon," Bill agreed. "I recommend we wait for the snow to melt, so it's less likely we leave evidence of our presence behind."

"How about Spring Break?" Harry suggested. "I should be able to sneak away around then without drawing notice." The other two grumbled in agreement at this.

Despite the unpleasantness of the locket attack, Harry left the meeting feeling uplifted. Progress was slow, but it was still progress. Another horcrux had been destroyed, one had likely been identified, and another was likely to be found at Little Hangleton in due course. On top of that, plans were in motion to strengthen Britain's defenses from both within and without the Ministry, and Voldemort remained completely unaware of their progress against him.

Harry still felt like he was walking a thin tightrope at all times, with one small push threatening to send him careening into the abyss. But he was getting more sure of himself and his ability to balance the many disparate forces at play. His father had avoided death and punishment from the guard duty incident, and Dumbledore no longer held firm control of the Potters. And better yet, Harry's fellow students were learning to be self-sufficient and not rely on the adults to solve all their problems anymore. All thanks to his firm leadership.

Maybe Crouch was right: Harry hated politics, but he was getting pretty good at playing the game.