A Strange Old World Ch.19 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 19- The Calm Before the Storm

AN: No proofreader this time, so let me know any errors you notice. Also, any editor is welcome.

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The scratches of hurried scribbling were the only imperfections in the otherwise calm silence that lay snuggly upon the lowly-lit office of Hogwarts’ Headmaster.

Its sole occupier was perched on the edge of a narrow sill, availing himself of the natural moonlight that trickled in through the open windows.

The contents of the letter laid heavily against his mind, placing upon him a burden he no longer wished to carry. Nor did he think himself capable of.

Not anymore.

But it was the right thing to do; and between easy and right, Albus Dumbledore will always choose the latter.

Thus, reluctant though his hand was, the message soon came to completion all the same.

‘My friends,’ It began. ‘It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter, though I have no doubt you are all aware of its necessity. I do not enjoy nudging your memories of the recent event, but the worst we’ve always feared has now come to pass. Dark times are ahead of us, and we’re woefully unprepared for what is about to come. As you may have guessed, I am reassembling The Order of The Phoenix; and I desperately need your help. Now more than ever. I urge you all to put aside your differences, and unite against our common enemies. One more time.

Your friend and teacher,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S: Need a place for Order meetings. Any offers are welcome.

His hand stopped scribbling, and silence finally conquered the room whole. The old man peered into the starry night, gentle wisps of wind swaying strands of his beard back and forth.

It was a good night. A calm & bright night. One undeserving of being wasted on such grave matters. Yet needs must, and Albus Dumbledore had done worse things on better days in the long years of his life.

Sighing, the bespectacled man turned to his bird. “Do you think this will be enough, Old friend?”

His phoenix cocked his head, dark piercing eyes staring within his soul; judging but forgiving.

“I fear that I have lost their trust.” Dumbledore admitted, staring back into the free skies. “But I fear not gaining it back greater still.”

A stinging torridity lit his right hand up in fire, the sudden inflammation evoking a slight wince from the old wizard.

He glanced down at his gloved right hand, and the reminder of his mortality stared back at him—a flimsy piece of cloth unable to hide the surety of his rapidly approaching death.

“And I fear even moreso that I do not have the time to do anything about it.”

His phoenix chirped from his perch, shooting a soothing aura of joy and good times through Dumbledore’s soul.

…And yet, it was no match for the sickly sensation in his hand—which grew increasingly frail as the Death element slowly slithered its way down his forearm.

Still, Dumbledore confronted it with barely a grimace. It was his penance that he accepted. A penance for his mistakes and arrogance. A penance for being so blind in his knowledge and faith that he’d let himself be caught completely off-guard; not once, not twice, but three times in just this past decade.

A shame he did not even have the luxury of blaming it upon his old age. For where the average mind may suffer, Dumbledore had always been a shade cleverer than most. And that had, unfortunately, continued well into his old age.

With another silent sigh, the old man slid down from the sill, straightening upon his legs to approach his table.

“Albus!” A sudden enraged voice screeched from above. “Those sniveling cowardly arselickers removed my portrait! How dare they!? It is my house! My house, I say!”

Dumbledore did not turn to the portrait, taking a seat on his desk as he began making preparations. “Calm now, Phineas. I take it they’ve established the Manor as their base?”

“Those filthy fancy-robed bastards!” Phineas continued seething. “They call themselves Death eaters? How about Cock Suckers instead? Or Serpent Swallowers, eh? More fitting if you ask me.”

Dumbledore simply opened his small diary, revealing all the active members of the Order before its disbandment. A wave of his wand and the letters started duplicating, making copies of themselves all addressed to the specific Order members one by one.

“Would you please deliver the messages, Fawkes?”

His bonded partner gave an accepting caw and disappeared away in a gust of flame, taking with him the scattered letters.

Dumbledore turned, peering up through the gap above his half-moon glasses. “Am I to understand that Sirius truly has defected to the dark?”

Finally stopping his incessant rant, Phineas snorted. “That scoundrel was the one to tear me down, so I’d say yes. I don’t get why this is so surprising to you, Dumbledore. My family has always birthed bad apples. And while I wouldn’t claim to be much better, Sirius is certainly blacker than most.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I simply cannot match the man he has become, with the boy he had been.”

“Wouls yous two shus up!?” A bleary voice snapped, coming from a picture stuck behind them. “Is two in the night. We gon’ nee some sleep toos. Portraits traveling’s a tirin’ job.”

A multitude of voices supported his objection, forcing a tired nod of supplication from Dumbledore. “Of course, gentle portraits. My work is almost done.”

One of the chief causes responsible in hastening the escalation of Death element was stress and over-exhaustion.

At least, according to Severus. And Dumbledore was willing to put his trust on the young man when it came to subjects like these.

To battle these causes, the headmaster had developed a few specific habits in recent days—one of which was to empty his mind before sleeping; for the dreams, if turned to nightmare, could cut his annum of remaining lifeforce in half.

Approaching the dais fixed with his Pensieve, Dumbledore touched the Elder wand to his brow. His powerful Occlumency helped sift through the memories, dragging the targeted ones to the fore. Then, with a concussing pinch to his head, his wand removed a wispy strand of glowing thread that he dropped down in the calmly sparkling liquid.

Faces of Ariana, Gellert, and a young Tom Riddle swirled down to the bottom, making up for his biggest mistakes in life—instantly relieving a great part of the burden from his shoulders.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Dumbledore had lived a great life, a long and fulfilling life. But the demons he had to bury in the pages of his dark past were just as many.

This time, he focused on his more recent failings, reviewing them involuntarily as his Occlumency brought everything to the forefront of his mind.

Harry Potter. The fourth biggest mistake.

Dumbledore still didn’t know where he went wrong in this.

Few things could surprise Albus Dumbledore anymore. But reviewing the memories of that night, witnessing with his own two eyes the way Harry Potter fought, had given him a shock unlike any.

Thirteen years ago, when he’d found the two mewling bundles in the wreckage of Potter cottage—amidst the corpses of their grandparents—he knew the prophecy had begun. What he did not possess however, was the knowledge as to who it truly meant. Voldemort had left a magical mark on both; a lightning shaped mark on the green-eyed babe’s brow, and a rough circle on Jacob’s neck.

The only difference came from the magic he sensed within their scars. Where Harry’s was dark and fierce, Jacob’s was...calm and mundane. But ignorant as he was about the Horcruxes then, Dumbledore had very little idea what it meant.

At that time, he had hesitantly concluded—based simply on his magical sensing—that Harry must be the one. The brooding darkness was too similar to a young Tom Riddle.

He hadn’t known then that his guess was correct. He wasn’t sure. And desperate as the country was, with dark wizards roaming the streets—hounding for blood of the children who marked their master’s end—Dumbledore had come up with a quick plan.

Hide them away, as safely as he can. Together.

A part of him knew the best route was to separate them. As the muggle saying went; don’t put all your eggs in the same basket.

Yet he hadn’t been willing to be so mercenary then. Guilt forced him to not treat the two as simple instruments of prophecy, but as brothers who would need each other to confront their dark fate. Brothers who could be better than him and Abeforth.

But fate would not have it. The Dursleys—and the powerful & mysterious blood wards that had erected over their house—were completely unwilling to take them in. And thus the arrangements were made; one brother under the blood wards; the other under the watch of close friends to the Potters.

Four years ago however; when the two joined Hogwarts, Dumbledore was forced to admit his assumption had been wrong. That Harry wasn’t the prophecy child; Jacob was.

It was easy to conclude truly. One still had his mark—though light & almost faded—the other did not. One was sorted in Gryffindor—yes, he was a little biased here, scramble off—the other Slytherin.

The most telling of all however….one was full of love for his family, the other…seemed incapable of anything but jealousy. And love—Dumbledore had concluded—was what will truly defeat the Dark Lord.

For Love was the power Voldemort knows not. And never shall.

Thus he'd concluded with all surety; Jacob Potter was the Prophecy child.

He never imagined this ‘Power’ to be direct, of course. How could he? Voldemort was the embodiment of magical might and raw power. Had he possessed Dumbledore’s knowledge and wisdom, the Dark Lord wouldn’t have needed Grindelwald to conquer the world.

He alone would’ve been enough.

How could anyone surpass him? No, the Power had to be abstract. Completely unexpected. Something that Voldemort would never prepare for. Something Voldemort had never experienced.

Love….what else could it be?

He was wrong. Oh how very wrong he was. Looking at the memories of Harry Potter downing a batch of Death Eaters, then forcing Grindelwald into caution, Dumbledore knew he’d screwed up in a big way.

For the past couple of days, he’d been prowling through every corner of the world within his reach, trying to form a solid image about the boy, anything that might hold some explanation for the recent oddities.

…And the conclusions that he’d landed upon were…disturbing, to say the least.

Harry Potter was no longer the boy that Dumbledore knew him to be. The boy that had graced the halls of Hogwarts with his….not quite gracious—though still welcoming—presence.

That Harry Potter seemed to have been buried underneath this new entity. And this new entity…might just be the power that Voldemort knew not.

It made an incredible amount of sense now. Especially when the true implications hit him.

How could a person change their entire being in a matter of weeks? How could someone boost their magic to an entirely different level in but a single summer? A level that only three beings in the past century had ever managed to touch upon.

‘The Horcrux.’ A familiar chill spread through Dumbledore as he reiterated his conclusions.

“It has to be.” He whispered to himself, looking down at the fading image of Tom Riddle.

After all…this was the true reason why Dumbledore believed him to be the Prophecy child…if he wasn’t willing to believe Voldemort’s own admission for any reason, that is.

There was a reason Harry could talk to snakes, there was a reason Harry was in Slytherin…

A part of Voldemort’s soul lived inside Harry.

Somehow, the night that Tom murdered Lily’s parents, a part of his soul broke off and attached itself to little Harry, creating him into a living, breathing Horcrux.

And knowing how suddenly Harry Potter had managed to form a completely new persona, Dumbledore was willing to bet there was a connection here.

‘A persona inspired by the piece of soul in his head…'

It was a chilling thought to be sure, painting a picture of unbearable grimness. For if even the saviour of the Wizarding World fell under the grasp of darkness, their world was already doomed.

Dumbledore hoped not, but anything more to learn will only come when the new Lord Potter deigns to give him a reply.

Only meeting the boy personally could the Supreme Mugwump form more solid conclusions.

And he hoped for some answers soon….

For time was shorter for him than anyone realized.

With a shaky wince, Dumbledore removed a thick glowing thread from his mind, dropping it down in the Penseive—finally relieved of all the stress and fear.

For tonight.

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Dumbledore was not the only one currently drowning in uncertainty and helplessness as the night moved on.

Even after three days to process the events, the members of the Tonks family were still wrecked with despairing shock. Jacob had been a part of their family for much longer than the Potters. To see the boy turning dark with such ease….no. There must be something going on behind their backs.

He must’ve been Confounded, surely. The Dark Lord must’ve wanted the Boy-Who-Lived…

But he wasn’t The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter was.

The implications did not bear thinking.

While the senior Tonks were still reeling in from the shock of the events, their daughter was facing an entirely different conundrum.

She sat at her desk, her room closed and a pen held between her fingers. There were three letters sprawling upon the desk; two were from her ex that wanted to make things right again, and the last was her own, addressed to one, Harry Potter; complete but never delivered.

The promise of that day laid crystal clear on her mind, but she didn’t know if things were still the same anymore. Well…she was the same, but she doubted the man she’d laid with that day—who now visited her dreams every night—was the same.

The beast who’d shagged her like there was no tomorrow, who pleasured her in ways no one ever has, who wrapped her in arms more tender and secure than anything she’d ever felt…the one whom she’d made the promise to that evening—a promise she fully intended to keep…

He was no longer the same. Now, he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, the twin of the one she considered brother. The most famous person in the world currently, and perhaps the most important.

‘…And the one who completely ignored me that night.’

She knew she was being a little stupid of course. His father had just died, his mother unconscious…he had graver things in mind than receiving a blowjob.

A more confident person would’ve written him a letter, offering her condolences and perhaps asking if they could meet again…

But Nymphadora was not that person. She focused instead on the fact that he was currently the most desirable bachelor in the world. There must be thousands of absolute bombshells lining up to get their lower cheeks clapped by him. What the hell would he need her for? Particularly considering he’d all but confirmed their relationship was nothing but purely physical.

‘But you’re special.’ She tried convincing herself. ‘You have something no one else will!’

Yet, the sheer thought that the only reason he might desire her was for her ability sent pangs of anger and helplessness in her.

She’d thought her heart would grow more peaceful once she accepted her faults and desires….but if anything, it seemed to create only more problems for her.

The world was not willing to stay still for Nymphadora Tonks. It was not willing to wait for her heart to be cleared.

And now, she was back to square one; uncertain and despairing over her future.

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While the Tonks family reeled in shock, the Weasleys were somber and quiet.

Loyalty was something natural to them. Something they did not need to ask for, as they simply believed in its existence in all members of their family. And while Jacob may not have been as close to them as his sisters, he was still counted as one of their own.

And the idea that one of their own could betray them as such would never have crossed their minds before the events of that day. The day that reminded them exactly how things had been in the last war.

Betrayal was but one aspect of the war, and both the elder Weasleys knew this intimately—having witnessed the horrors of the last war.

If anything, Jacob’s betrayal and James’ death marked the start of this war for them. They knew things were only about to get worse. Betrayals, deaths, panic, and destruction…all will soon follow its wake.

For this was only the start.

The lone light in this darkness came in the form of Harry Potter. They’d seen him fight that night; Molly Weasley from the stadium’s top box, and Arthur from up close and personal—so they simply dismissed the Ministry's words. They didn’t need them to confirm what their eyes saw.

The Weasleys were one of the few who’d witnessed the complete events of that night. So while they were aware of the dark times ahead, they knew things would be better this time. With Dumbledore at their helm—to guide Harry Potter—they would surely fare much better.

And thus, to keep the despair away, they chose to put their faith in the One-Who-Shall-Conquer.

But while they may have found ways to deal with it, the same cannot be said about the children. More specifically; the Potter sisters who they’d come to view as family.

Dorea Potter spent most of her time in the Weasley house—along with her little sister. The Potter Manor was too quiet and different for her right now, the wound too fresh to be alone in a house that made her feel unwanted.

Her new brother was never there for her like her father would’ve been. At times, she almost felt he didn’t want them—Dorea and Rose—in his life. So busy was he with their mother and Bella, that Dorea was beginning to feel like an intruder in her own house.

She wasn’t a child to cry at everything. But just a single thought of her father made tears bubble within her eyes. And there was no comfort to be found in her house anymore.

Her mother shied away from any mention of James or Jacob, Bella was always either with Harry or the Ministry, and the one person who seemed stable and strong enough to pour her feelings upon was a stranger. Her brother he may be, but he was still a stranger.

A stranger too busy to deal with her. A stranger who most likely did not care about the betrayed rage brewing inside her at the sheer thought of Jacob. A stranger who likely gave not a fuck about her heart being minced into fine pieces.

She truly believed, had she not felt the responsibility for her little sister, had the Weasleys not been so welcoming, she would’ve done something unbelievably stupid.

She hoped everything would become alright soon. She hoped their family—or what was remaining of it—could get together like a family should. Could find comfort in each other in these terrible times…

She hoped. But she didn’t believe in it.

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For Harry, the subsequent days after that very memorable night passed in a complicated mess of hasty events.

Just a single night had managed to put the entire world in a state of mass panic and confusion, whilst re-introducing Harry to his days of fame—ending the blessed anonymity that he’d enjoyed for the last couple of months.

Harry couldn't decide what was worse; Voldemort's slow and torturous reveal in the last life, or the sudden and premature disclosure in this one.

At least in his previous life, he and Dumbledore had managed to soften the blow of the revelation. Here, it was like putting a gallon of icy cold water over a bunch of completely ignorant—and unconcerned—crowd.

Sure, he wasn't seen as a liar this time, wasn’t held as a pretentious prick, and his year in Hogwarts would no doubt pass in utter bliss compared to the last time.

But on the other hand, he now had to deal with a whole new range of challenges that he simply wasn’t ready for—having never experienced it before.

First came the task of comforting a heavily grieving family. A family who'd been complete strangers to him until recently, and it reflected very clearly in his siblings eyes.

Dorea and Rose visibly showed their uncertainty to his presence, tip-toeing around him like he were a wild dementor about to suck out their souls any second. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if they resented him now, for practically replacing their father and brother in a single night. He was the only male remaining in this house after all. Worse yet, he’d barely started living here but was already the Lord of House. That was bound to breed some bitterness.

The fact that they spent most of their time with the Weasleys or Tonks simply echoed his sentiments.

The next challenge came from the potential visits from family friends. The House of Potter enjoyed a very close friendship with a number of powerful families. The ones that Harry did know and recognize were the Weasleys, Tonks’, Longbottoms, and Lupins; all of whom had a direct entrance to their fireplace.

The first thing Harry did after becoming the Lord of the House was to completely ward off the fireplace’s entrance—with Bella's help and agreement—from unwanted and unwelcome visits. While he was familiar—more than familiar, in some cases—with most of these people, he was in no mood or condition to deal with anyone as of now.

Thankfully, the half-assed apology—asking for their understanding in regards to his grieving mother—was accepted by all of them, and the only contact for the Potter manor with the world at large came through letters and Patronuses.

He suspected involvement of Dorea and Rose—who did not stop their visits on his accord—for the ease of their acceptance.

Though his sisters may not have stopped visiting the families, they followed his condition of being back before sun down without a complaint, simply giving a hesitant nod and not questioning his…request? Order?

He had yet to decide what they took it as.

That was simply the beginning of his problems however. The next came from the fact that apparently—as Bella had warned him—being the Lord of the House came with one too many duties and responsibilities.

The easier ones involved keeping the family business and investments running—which could, fortunately, be delayed for some time—and constantly keep the house Elves busy with new tasks and orders, which barely took a minute of his time.

The harder ones however, involved politely rejecting the Wizengamot’s summons, citing ‘Family issues which you all must be aware of’, and adjusting the House wards to reject all the new waves of fan-mail—though only after scourging through it for anything important—while restricting the access to only those he considered important.

Thankfully, the Potter wards were incredibly powerful and self-reliant, simply needing him to state his will and intentions to clear away the rabble of paparazzis, journalists, and reporters. He first confirmed it working on an Animagus—yeah, specifically bug ones—before finally letting himself trust the Manor's privacy and security.

Of course, it wasn’t just work-work-work for the new Lord. There were also some juicy benefits that Harry did not mind one bit. Namely; the access to family Magica.

It was common knowledge that in Magical Britain, the sacred-28 families represented the face of their country’s nobility. What wasn’t common knowledge however, was that out of these 28 families, there were a few that were held in an even greater position, separating them from the rest. These few families all had one thing in common; access to Elemental magic.

Or, as the people in this world liked to call it; Family magic.

The House of Potter was one of those special few families. It first came into being when its founder managed to—pardon the pun—unearth the secrets of the Earth element.

Mastering the deeper elemental mysteries enabled him to carve a juicy piece of Magical Britain’s economy for himself. By turning his father’s mundane Pottery business into a thriving art gallery, he created for himself an empire in the trading industry.

A little unimaginative in Harry’s eyes, but considering they were currently the richest family in Britain, surpassing the Malfoys by a mile, he found himself unable to complain.

What certainly wasn’t unimaginative was his hand-written conclusions on Elemental magic.

‘It seems spells are all created by taking inspiration from the elements found in the natural world, making them just a pale imitation of the true might an element can unleash. My conclusion is that the wizards and sorcerers of old gave words to magic. Utilizing these words, they can manipulate the inner magic to a certain degree, changing its properties to replicate an element's effects, and tracing specific runes in the air—wand movements to the less learned—to finally give form to their magic, releasing the completed spell upon the real world. It’s ingenious really, but incredibly limiting and pathetically lower in power.’

'The true elemental Magic does not care about all these words and aerial runes. Words give no help here, and you have to manipulate the elements in the air all through resonating it with your inner magic, forming a solid connection between one’s magic and the magic in the elements, and controlling it through your emotions and magical control.

‘To use elemental Magic, one must master their minds much above the common wizards, not simply their emotions, but also their Will and focus. One must also have enough sensitivity to magic to be able to sense the elements in the air, which is the very first requirement.’

‘No, scratch that, it seems I wasn’t sensing the elements directly, but the magic within them. Quite obvious, now that I think about it. So magical sensing is required to sense the magic in the elements, which wizards can then manipulate. Truly, my eyes have opened to the true power of the world. Almost makes one wonder….should a true master of elements will it, could he change the world as it is?’

Honestly, Harry would’ve liked nothing more than to spend all of his time in the library, forgetting the rest of the world as he dove into this subject with all his being.

Unfortunately, he had a whole lot more to take care of...and Bella wasn't letting him be.

And he wasn’t willing to ignore her.

In all this whirlwind of activity, Bella was his sole pillar of support. She guided him through the political mess of Magical Britain, helped him answer all those important mails, accepted his request to give the mighty middle finger to Dumbledore and his ‘Order'—both of them received an invitation, and both of them sent a rejection—and finally became sort of his liaison with the Minister.

They both knew there was a lot of air to be cleared between them. They both knew there were a lot of secrets to be revealed. They both knew they were avoiding the subject.

And they both understood the reason behind it.

Yet, he knew the time of revelation had to come sooner or later. Knew he will have to either come clean or prepare another dirty lie. And he was simply unwilling to continue the latter anymore. Not with Bella.

He could see it in her eyes; behind the understanding, the conflict and impatience brewed, along with slight desperation and frustration.

On the fourth night since the Black Day, just when they were about to retire for bed—he was mightily pleased when she’d accepted his offer and relocated to the Manor—he held onto her shoulder, stopping her in place.

Laying the same kiss upon her cheek—he could still remember it, clear as the crystalline water—he stared into her deep violet eyes that widened significantly.

“We will talk, Bella. I promise.”

The nod and relieved smile that he received was enough. For the time being.

Of all these events however, the one thing that never failed to disturb him was Lily.

The night of their coupling still laid starkly upon Harry's mind. The dark pleasure, the rising passions, the lustful moans...and the sheer intense fucking.

He remembered it all in the forefront of his mind. Would be difficult to forget really, considering it was one of the longest bouts of debauchery he’d ever engaged in, finally giving his wrung body some rest when the day had gone well into the afternoon.

But it seemed that wasn't the case with his dearest mother.

The moment they’d woken up—late in the evening—Lily acted like the previous night never happened between them. As if their last memory together was that of him saving her from Grindelwald. As if the woman he'd laid with that night was simply his imagination, his lust for the gorgeous redhead shining through....

Yet, she wasn't a good enough actress to convince him. He could observe it in the way she moved around him; always cautious and nervous. He could see it clearly every time he touched her; the slight flinch and the darkening of her cheeks. Hell, he felt it every time they were together; her hurried and unfocused movements around him, her shaky and clammy hands whenever he was close...

No, she couldn't fool him. Yet she kept quiet, not wishing to touch the subject. And not letting him do so either.

And that made Harry just as hesitant to share his secrets as well. How could he broach his past life when his current one was so messed up?

His own personal conflict over their incestuous night was almost negligible. It took but an hour or two of inner monologue to sort through his feels.

Yes, Lily was his biological mother. Yes, their actions were reprehensible in the eyes of the public.

Yet, he found himself not minding that night as much as he would've imagined. How could he? After everything he's been through.

But the bigger reason was simply because he did not consider her his true mother. Harry had seen his real mother, and not once either. First in the mirror of Erised, then in the portrait of the Order, then those mind raping sessions with Snape, where he dug deep to the memory of the night she was killed...

Yes, Harry had seen his mother. And the difference between her and this Lily was like day and night. His true mother was....well, motherly. Pretty yes, but a mother nonetheless.

This Lily was more beautiful than the Fleur of his old world, more fiery than Ginny ever had been....and bustier than any woman he'd ever met or seen in his previous life. She belonged in the no.1 spot of the supermodels list in Witches Weekly—tied with Bella, of course—instead of being a mother of four.

Perhaps these physical differences shouldn't be enough for him to view the two in such different lights....but considering the only thing he knew of his true mother were her looks, second-hand compliments showered on her by others, and the slight warm tingling in his heart, it was enough to completely separate her from the woman he'd first fucked that night.

...And unfortunately, as it would seem, also the last time.

For the woman who'd suddenly taken over her body that night did not pay a visit again, and Harry was almost ready to dismiss that incident and start healing this gaping wound in his and Lily's relationship that has been created....

Or so he’d thought.

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24th August,
Godric's Hollow

It happened on the fateful day of the funeral. Lily had been quiet and subdued the whole morning, busying herself in her lab and refusing to acknowledge what the day was about.

Even as they readied themselves for the farewell—his sisters grim-faced and teary eyed—Bella silent and hesitant…he couldn’t help but notice how hard Lily was trying not to focus upon anything related to James or Jacob.

The funeral for James' burial was held three days after his death. It was a quiet affair, with only the Potter family and Bella present. Harry had opted for a private funeral, for he did not wish to deal with his insanely bloated fame yet. People seemed even crazier about him here than back in his old world.

They were in the Godric’s Hollow, gathered around the marble coffin holding the peaceful figure of James.

They’d just finished digging the hole—Harry had wanted to do it personally, without hiring any professionals—and were waiting for the chosen few close friends to arrive. He’d wanted a completely private funeral but Bella seemed to disagree. Keeping away Remus—and James’ other close friends—would be too cruel, she believed.

Harry’s eyes trailed along the covered body of his father—did he consider him his father in actuality? He did not know…but he was willing to pretend on this occasion.

Only the man’s head was visible through the white cover, his body being too ruined to come in contact with naked air.

James looked peaceful in death—the grimaced pain no longer visible—holding the beginnings of a smile. Harry realized he’d died hearing his promise to keep Lily safe—in any way he can.

Suddenly Lily whirled around beside them.

"I...I just...can't..." she whispered, taking slow steps away. ”I'm sorry."

Then she turned on the spot and disappeared within the splintered air.

Harry glanced at Bella, who nodded in understanding. "Go, I'll see to the burial."

With a thankful nod, he vanished after Lily.

He should've seen the signs when he arrived in the Manor. Should've known that a grieving Lily won't just throw her clothes away in the hallway carelessly.

And sure enough, as he entered the main Hall, his eyes fell upon Lily Potter at once.

She was facing away from him, bent over a large cushioned armchair, her naked body splayed apart for his viewing pleasure.

Shock quickly disappeared away in lust.

His eyes feasted upon her delicate shoulders, trailing down her gracefully arched back, before finally falling upon the two milky pale, full and round buns, curving out like bubbles.

She looked smooth and perfect as a sculpture, but warm and supple to the touch. He found his legs involuntarily closing in the distance, pure lust and need feeling his being.

"I knew you'd come, love." Her voice, sweet as honey, purred softly. "It was a long and torturous wait. Now come and claim what is yours."

He wanted to fall upon her like an animal, he wanted to cup her perfect body with his, he wanted to feel himself pressed against her....

Yet, he forced his lust down—not through Occlumency, but with sheer fucking will.

"Who are you?" He finally managed to get out, though not stopping his forward journey, eyes tracing the length of her silken smooth legs that moved back and forth in the air.

She glanced back at him upon the question, a smile of extreme love and devotion upon her face. "I am Lily, silly. No need for such caution. You may call me…void Lily, if you wish to. I apologize for ignoring you the past few days, love. But my morals, the society's views ingrained upon my mind…they all come roaring back to me eventually. This…state of pure and deepest desire…it doesn’t always stay.”

She tsked, shaking her head as her face morphed with impatience. “I shall explain everything, I promise, but first..."

She let her legs fall upon the ground, before spreading them apart, giving him an erotic back view of the dripping cunt as she laid bent over the armchair. "Please, use me as you will. We don’t have much time, and I wish to feel you inside me. Yes, even my foolish self, though she keeps denying it to herself.”

“Claim me, beloved master. And I shall answer everything."

------------------------------------

26th August,  
British Ministry Headquarters

"He is here, Minister."

The steaming cup of tea almost slipped out of her hands as her secretary made the announcement.

"Thank you." Amelia nodded with forced calm, waiting until the door had shut again.

Then, as if a switch was pressed, she scrambled around the room to make sure everything was as it should be.

The desk was cleared off of the usual crap and papers, now decorated with a vase of flowers—she had no idea if he would like them, though it didn't hurt in her opinion—and a pot of steaming hot Elaichi tea straight from India, adorned the tray that sat in the middle.

The only thing of note there was a blue file that contained the core of their meeting today. She'd prepared the file with all the appropriate documents a night before—as soon as Bella informed her of his willingness to meet, really.

Finally, she gave a thorough glance around the supremely neat and tidy room—for the first time in three years, she'd let the cleaner do her job—before slowly walking forth in front of a full-length mirror, her gaze turning critical.

The face that stared back was...decent.

'Not the time for false humility.' Her inner voice needled her, evoking a snort.

Indeed—she had to admit—she looked fantastic. Rarely did the Minister of Magical Britain get any chance of dressing up with the sole purpose to impress. And even in those rare occasions, never had she put this much effort into it.

This was simply too special an evening to not go all out however.

Her skin was silken smooth and crystal clear, cheeks rosy and high, and a jaw that has been often described as strong and paper sharp. Strawberry red lips glinted below a lean delicate nose that made up a face which has received its fair share of compliments, often compared with Bella herself—certainly a huge compliment in Amelia's opinion. Her raven black hairs were braided in the prettiest curls, without being overly girlish, hanging around her shoulders in freefall.

She looked stunning, and she could admit so without feeling the slightest of shame.

'But would he like it?'

Amelia Bones grimaced, tsking lightly. ‘It’s not like I’m here to seduce him. Just…’

Just what?

She couldn’t decide.

Did she hope to pull him out of his comfort zone and manipulate the proceedings? Or perhaps dangle her beauty like a carrot and hope he’d be too infatuated to refuse?

Or maybe she was feeling slightly insecure…it would be all too normal, considering what her research had unearthed.

Her mind wandered to his closest companions—all females—that he'd been seen in the last few days. All extremely beautiful women, even including the presence of two supernatural Veela beauties amongst them.

What was she, compared to these goddesses? Could she ever hope to compete with them?

'Is that what I want?’ Her mirror image winced. ‘To impress the boy just to prove myself their equal?’

Or maybe to impress Harry Potter and get some special treatment.

Her mind flickered to the intense bout of pleasure she’d experienced inside Auror Tonks’ mind, feeling her entire being lit up on fire…

‘No!’

Occlumency came to the fore of her mind, banishing away the images as soon as they started appearing.

Amelia took a deep breath and gave a nod of false confidence. "C'mon Lia, don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t insecure enough to bone a fourteen year old. You’ve enjoyed almost as much attention as Bella and Lily!”

It was all in her mind. She wasn’t an ugly hag, she knew. She didn’t need to impress a boy to feel better about herself….surely not.

Though it was difficult to convince herself so. Her confidence when it came to anything social in nature was incredibly stunted. Even for international meetings, she preferred to send Bella in her stead. People thought their Minister preferred keeping her dating life away from public eyes, but they were wrong.

How could she hide something which was never there?

No, Amelia Bones had as much experience in dating and its finer points as a newly graduated Hogwarts student...even less so, considering it was well over two decades since that time.

For while people may whisper about her beauty behind her back, no one truly had the guts to come up to her face and announce it. No one dared to give her roses and lilies like they did to Bella and Lily. At least she never rejected people as brutally as those two always did. Yet, she may as well have been a specter for all the desirability people were willing to show in front of her.

Thus, for the past decade or so as her run as the Minister, her romantic life was as dried up as the Sahara desert.

‘This is why.’ She grimaced as the realization struck. ‘This is why I’m acting like a teen on her first date.’

She looked herself in the mirror, eyes flickering down the slender neck to the open coat, with three top buttons having been undone—and considering there were only seven buttons in total, that was quite substantial—just enough to show the curves of her cleavage, tracing the lines of her plump breasts straining against her coat.

And taking in the fact that she wore nothing except a corset underneath, those were some very detailed lines.

Amelia Bones may not be Bella or Lily, but she would always catch the subtle looks at her chest when she roamed around the Ministry levels wearing anything even slightly tight.

That she got a lot of, more than she would've liked.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she was overdoing it.

'Do I have to show so much...flesh?' She cleared her throat, cheeks reddening. 'Those magazines said to show off a healthy amount of cleavage...what exactly is a healthy amount?'

She sure hoped the article '101 ways to wrap a man around your finger' wouldn't lead her astray. If she found out that her target hated these kinds of things, she would personally go and set fire to all the offices of Witches Weekly.

'I'm ready.' Amelia nodded seriously.

But the doubts wouldn't go away easily. 'Or am I?'

Absently, her hand went up and unbuttoned her coat further, now clearly showing the deep valley of her pale cleavage...

'...No, too much. Fuck those articles.'

But as she hands rose to button it again, three strong knocks rapped on her office door—sending pangs of icy cold panic spread through her being like Fiendfyre

'How is he here already!?'

"I can't go like this." She whispered in horror, looking at the generous amount of cleavage that was being pushed out from her coat—free pickings for anyone with a pair of eyes.

Another three knocks thumped on her door—this time clearly louder and impatient. And as panic finally began setting in, she gave a sorry to her past self and let Occlumency dominate her mind.

Her fumbling hands stilled, the world growing sharp again. She turned around, quickly heading for the door even as her fingers re-buttoned the coat.

The door opened without her volition, revealing the tall figure of Harry Potter towering above her, a frown in his eyes as they stared down.

“Mr. Potter.” The Minister nodded, extending a hand. Her tone came out much colder than she’d wished for, but she continued forward. “A pleasure to meet you.”

‘He did not stare anywhere lower than my eyes.’ She absently noted. ‘This will be hard.’

“Minister Bones.” The young man nodded, emerald green eyes piercing her soul.

“Sit.” Amelia waved him towards the desk, serving a cup of tea with a quick swish of her wand as she took a seat herself. “Did Bellatrix tell you the subject of my…invitation?”

She barely stopped herself from saying summons. A word she would never even think of for this meeting. This was the disadvantage that came with actively utilizing Occlumency. It simply wasn’t made for socializing.

“No, she did not.” The new Lord Potter replied, snorting. “Just that you had some kind of offer for me.”

Amelia frowned, disgruntled. “She was not meant to say anything.”

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing instantly.

‘Fuck.’

There was something vaguely inhuman in the way those green orbs stared at her with a tilted head. A certain darkness that she would never expect in the eyes of someone such young. In the eyes of anyone, for that matter.

"Tell me minister,” There was a noticeable sneer in his voice now, and Amelia knew this conversation was about to derail faster than a firebolt. “Do you see me as a threat to your authority?"

Amelia blinked. "No."

"As competition perhaps?" The young man pressed.

‘Shit.’ Amelia tried running damage control. "Of course not, Mr. Potter. And I must apolog—"

"Will I find some articles slandering me tomorrow?” His voice rose now, a dark fury in his words. “About how arrogant and self-righteous I truly am? Will the headline of tomorrow's newspaper read 'Harry Potter; Plotter! Usurping the life of his twin! Confirmed by the Minister herself!'?"

Amelia dropped the Occlumency, knowing the damage was done, even though she did not understand how it happened so fast.

"Of course not!” The panic returned, though her passive shields helped enough to stop her from hyperventilating. But as she reviewed the words in her mind, she couldn’t help but feel the young man was overreacting a little. "Mr. Potter, I may have come off as slightly unwelcoming, and I apologize for that, but I hardly think it fair to accuse me of these things."

The boy snorted, looking not guilty in the least. “Bella had only good things to say about you. But I will withhold my judgment until later.”

Sighing, Amelia shook her head, realizing this may just be the boy’s default personality with strangers.

Then again, it could also be the massive responsibility hanging onto his shoulders right now.

Whatever the case, Amelia realized that there wasn’t going to be anything remotely romantic about this meeting.

The sheer thought sent a spike of shame in her. ‘What did you think this was, some kind of love story? You’re the Minister of this country, you ditz!’

She took a deep breath, knowing his eyes were still on her—now feeling ridiculously stupid about her unbuttoned coat—and gave a tiny nod. “Very well, Mr. Potter. I won’t waste your time any longer, but I urge you to consider my preposition at least once.”

She pushed the blue file towards him, and sat back to sip her tea as he began prowling through the documents.

For a few seconds there was only the sound of turning papers in the office, followed by her whistling blows of air to cool the scalding tea.

Then the Potter Head glanced up, a deadpan look in his eyes. “You want me to become the Head of Aurors.”

Amelia simply nodded.

“You want me, a fourteen year old, to lead a bunch of old wobbling war veterans.”

A weirdly unsettling smile flashed on his face, an ironic glint to his demeanor.

“Not just them.” Amelia replied, placing her cup down. “There are also dozens of new recruits to make up for the loss of Red Hour. And frankly, Mr. Potter, I doubt your age would truly matter to the people. Just your sheer presence will be enough to calm the crowd. As long as they see us working together, I doubt anyone would raise any complaints.”

“Ahh.” The young man gave a slow nod. “Now I see. You want to tie me down to the ministry. Hoping for good PR?”

Amelia took a deep breath, controlling the growing frustration within her heart. She could see why he would be so skeptical, but being under such unfair judgment hurt nonetheless.

"Mr. Potter...Harry...we need to stabilize this country, or else we will lose the war through the actions of our own people, long before Voldemort could do anything!”

She didn’t realize it, but her voice was getting louder and louder as her frustration and desperation came to the fore. “You are the only one that can save us. Your actions that day earned you the crowd's trust. They're calling for you to be the Minister, for Merlin’s sake! And no matter how much I may want to, I can’t just give up this burden and abandon the country. But with you at my side, my task will be infinitely easier. So please, consider the proposal at least once before you dismiss it.”

For a few seconds the green orbs of doom simply stared at her, one finger clicking on the desk absently. Then, a small smile curved up his face.

“I believe you’ll do excellently, dear Minister.” The smile widened into a grin. “And I would do what I can to help you, as long as you don’t shy away from what needs to be done.”

Relief spread throughout her body as the dam of stress burst open. She gave a nod of thanks, staring at her lap—too overwhelmed to say anything as she took deep breaths.

Thus it was that she completely missed the appreciative glance the Potter Lord shot down her coat opening, pumping up and down with her deep breaths

“Though I must say,” He started again, and she finally looked up. “I’m still surprised you are willing to give such an important position to the little old me. Good PR or no.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Amelia snorted. "Let's not kid ourselves, Mr. Potter. From what little I saw, you are as good a dueler as Rufus, if not better. And you are definitely more powerful than any wizard in this country save for one. Or two now, I believe.”

The young man nodded slowly, leaning back with his head absently tilting up—eyes closed. “Run me through what you’ve planned till now.”

A little startled at his commanding tone, Amelia nonetheless acquiesced. “We’ve selected Frank Longbottom as the new Hit-wizards’ head. The recruitment for both the forces has started aggressively, though quite a few Aurors have asked to be promoted to Hit-wizards’ corps. And considering the loss last time, I’ve accepted a lot of them.”

“What about Hogwarts?” He asked suddenly, eyes still closed but now a frown on his face.

“Hogwarts? Well, there have been…plans.” She started slowly, her eyes watching him closely. “Plans to place a group of Dementors around the school for protection."

"No offense, Minister, but that's a terrible idea." He opened his eyes, straightening again to face her. “A very terrible idea.”

Amelia kept her growing emotions under control, not giving away anything as she asked. "And may I know why?"

"Dementors cannot be trusted.” The Potter Head stated bluntly. “They aren't loyal to the ministry and only care about sucking souls. And between the two, Voldemort definitely offers much better soul-sucking prospects. It is foolish to trust them.”

Her breath left in a whoosh, her shoulders slumping in relief. "You have no idea how relieved that makes me. If I gave this reason to the public—or the Wizengamot—people would think me crazy. With your support however, that will change completely. You have no idea how glad I am of your presence currently, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry, please.” The young man waved her words away. “If we’re going to work as closely as you’re making it out, I’d like us to be frank with each other.”

She nodded. “Call me Amelia then.”

And thus started the discussion that would not conclude until the night had fallen completely. Even then, it showed no signs of stopping, and had it not been for the fateful interruption, there was no telling how long it may have proceeded…

"…On top of all that, Barty Crouch suddenly felt the need to push the proposal for the Triwizard cup to be made for all ages. Dumbledore was furious, but his argument revolved around you taking part in the tournament. Our recent failure in the World cup has ruined our reputation pretty badly. He thinks if we make this tournament as grand as the World Cup—using you as the bait for people, of course—it will present us with a chance to heal our tattered reputation and perhaps gain us some allies—most of whom had shied away from cooperation since the incident. Though it all hinges on you dominating the tournament.”

Harry nodded, rubbing his chin. “It’s an interesting plan…”

“Indeed, but deeply uncharacteristic of Barty. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was confunde—“

The door to her office suddenly banged open, and in walked her secretary. “Apologies, Minister Bones! Madam Black has an urgent message for Mr. Potter.”

Sighing, Amelia waved her on, casting a quick tempus to check the time.

“She said to tell Mr. Potter that his ‘Delacour friends’ have arrived. And to come immediately.”

Her desk partner grunted, standing up. “Would it be alright if we continue tomorrow?”

“Very well.” Amelia nodded, stifling a yawn. “It is quite late. Thank you for your time, Harry. Truly, this meeting has taken away a large weight from my shoulders.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He smirked, turning to face her a step away from the door. “And I must say…you look rather ravishing tonight, Amelia.”

With a last cheeky grin, he disappeared away, leaving a red-faced Minister floundering behind.

But she couldn’t suppress the smile struggling to spread upon her face either. ‘Whatever happens now...I won’t be alone.”

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AN: 9k words, hehe. Hope you all liked it.

So, what d you think about the offer? I felt it'll be a great sub-plot and I do have some things planned. Secondly, I know it might feel like I've written off Stella...I haven't. You'll  know about her soon enough.

This chapter was spent mostly on introducing Dumble's and Amelia's pov, but both are incredibly important for the plots ahead so hopefully you didn't feel bored. I've actually teased a lot of things that are soon going to be revealed, don't know if anyone clocked that yet. And you got some hints into Elemental magic and Lily's split personality (it isn't that tho).

You'll also notice not everything is alright in the Potter family; we'll deal with it in the next chapter as well. Along with the Delacours, and some final touches before Hogwarts appears.

Well, that was all for this chapter. Let me know what you thought, and I'll see you all in the next one!

The next chapter will definitely be the last one before Hogwarts. 

Last thing, I've also added a couple of images for Lily. This is definitely the official one lol. If you find yourself annoyed by Harry's lust, just look at these and consider the situation again. WARNING: NSFW! Proceed with caution!

P.S: I've gotten a raffle warning on this chapter, so if you find any words relating to the subject, pls let me know.