The Cursed Line & Blessed Heir (Patreon)

Chapter 11- Cursed Blood

“Albus?” The Headmaster had been expecting the man to respond and was not disappointed. Despite not having seen the man for almost half a decade, he knew he would respond immediately if necessary. 

Only a few could boast of knowing Saul Croaker personally, but he had never lost touch with the man despite having thought him almost fifty years ago. The man was a prodigy and he had expected great things from him going out of Hogwarts. He didn’t disappoint. 

“Saul. Please do come over.” Dumbledore requested and waited for the man to walk through the floo. A man with a hood drawn over his head walked out of the floo. He then proceeded to remove his hood displaying his face to the Headmaster. 

“You have aged, Saul.” Dumbledore chuckled. Time did fly very fast, especially for a man of his age. The youngsters he taught as a Professor were now sitting high up in important organisations and that never failed to make him proud. 

“Aged well I hope.” He muttered as he sat down in front of the Headmaster, removing his glasses from the inside pocket of his robe and wearing them.

“That you have.” The older man agreed. “It only seems like not long ago, but you were sitting in my class and asking questions, and today, you sit here as the man in charge of the Department of Mysteries.” 

“I have you and your fellow staff to thank for that. Not to mention Headmaster Dippet.” He looked up to the line of portraits of the previous Headmasters of Hogwarts, his eyes resting on the former Headmaster who dipped his head in welcome. 

“If not for his recommendation to the Head of the Department, things would have been different.” 

Dumbledore shook his head immediately. “You are too modest, Saul. You did not need any of our help to get there. Your talents alone got you to the position you are in.” 

“We will never know that, Albus. We will never know what it would have been had things happened differently.” Saul muttered as the older man nodded his agreement. 

“That we won’t.” He agreed. 

“Well, I think you had something to talk to me about.” Dumbledore nodded and launched into an explanation, telling the man everything he could about the Goblet of Fire and his findings. 

“I don’t get it.” Saul returned after the man finished. “The Goblet and its magic is supposed to be uncompromisable.” 

“It has not been compromised,” Dumbledore assured. “The magic of the Goblet remains the same, but an additional magical presence has been recognised. Once the flames were extinguished, I felt a presence that was supposed to be an external hand. That is not the same magic as the Goblet.  

“That should not be possible. An outside influence?” Dumbledore nodded. 

“If there has been an influence of an outside source, it must have been a powerful spell. Not very difficult to find out who it is, if that is the case.” 

Dumbledore sighed, catching the man’s attention. He stood up and walked over to his phoenix, which was perched on its stand nearby. 

“The problem remains to find the source of the spell. Had it been a lost spell, a dark spell found of restricted books, we would have narrowed it down, but it being a basic confundus changes everything.” 

Saul nodded, his face set in a frown. Dumbledore was right. But he was sure that he could work it out in a few weeks. Confundus charm is a very basic charm and a powerful confundus charm can be achieved by anybody with sufficient magical understanding. 

The fact that they had to mask the influence of the Goblet and manipulate its magic might help narrow it down. 

“I hope you have no use for the Goblet anymore. I would like to take it back to the Department. It would make my job easier.” 

Dumbledore nodded and gestured for the man to pick up the Goblet that the man had summoned from a nearby shelf during their conversation. 

“Do you need the Goblet for anything at all?” Saul questioned as he prepared to leave. “I don’t like to keep travelling from the Department to the School every time you might need it.” 

“The only time we would be needing the Goblet again is for the final task of the Tournament. You will have no disturbances in between, I assure you.” Dumbledore promised as he accompanied the man to the floo. 

“If you have anything to ask, don’t hesitate to contact me. There is a lot at stake.” The other man nodded as he departed through the floo and Dumbledore returned to his seat. 

He could not help but be worried about the future. Harry’s life is in danger, which he knew that the young man himself was aware of by now. Harry is a very capable wizard, but he is still a young man. 

He didn’t know what the future held, but he needed to keep an eye out. He has no idea how the young man’s name ended up in the Goblet, but whoever was responsible must be hidden in plain sight. 

‘Every student that passes through these halls, good or bad, is my responsibility, Albus. Anything happens to them, I am as good as dead.’ 

He did not mean the parents of the students or the Ministry when he said that and it took years for him to understand what Armando Dippet meant. 

He stared up at the portrait of the previous headmaster of Hogwarts and a tired smile adorned his face. The man in the portrait met his eye and grinned understandingly. 

“You were right, Armando. You were right.” 

BREAK—-

“The situation worsens with each passing day, Thomas,” Alastair grumbled as he chugged down another drink and chucked the glass to the other side of the room. 

“Sixteen, dead. Sixteen dead in the last three days alone!” The man raged looking into the fireplace. “Something is not going well. Things have been happening for the past  three years and it is not normal.” 

“Father…” Antioch cut in. “We are facing bad conditions. It is bound to pass.” He placated the man, but his father was not having it. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, boy!” The man snapped glaring at his eldest. 

“Nothing unnatural.” Antioch returned. “A common phenomenon, father. A drought and flood is not unheard of, Father.” 

“It is when it comes around one after like this. It is unnatural, son. I can feel it. Maybe when you have lived as much as I have, you will understand what I mean. Mark my words, when I say that there is somebody behind all of it and things will get bad.” 

“Why do you feel that way, Father?” Ignotus questioned, watching his father in curiosity. 

The man observed his son for a while, before letting out a deep breath of frustration. He stood up on his feet, shaking slightly as he did so and walked up to the young man. 

“You are better at understanding things compared to the other two. You don’t feel that something is a miss?”

Ignotus thought about his answer for a few seconds before humming his agreement. 

“I might.” He shrugged and his father chuckled, placing an arm on his shoulder causing the younger man to break into a small smile. 

“I have been around long enough to know when a stone is displaced in my village. I know when the breeze is different. I know when the sun shines differently on my land. When things are different, I will know. This is not natural. I will get to the bottom of it if it's the last thing I would do.” 

The man went back to his seat and his sons walked away, recognising the dismissal, holding their questions until they were out of the room. 

“Why do you indulge him in his thoughts, brother?” Cadmus sighed when they were out of earshot. 

“I don't know why, but I feel Father is not wrong,” Ignotus muttered. 

“I don't know how to explain it, but the air around our village has not been the same since all this started. Something has changed and it is not by nature’s hand.” 

Antioch and Cadmus frowned as their brother conveyed his thoughts. Ignotus had the rare ability to communicate with nature like no other. He held the ability to create a flood, a tornado, an earthquake, summon lightning and manipulate fire to his heart's content. 

When Ignotus practices magic, he always says that nature speaks to him. When he practices magic, he feels himself connecting to his surroundings and that in turn benefits him in controlling his surroundings in any way he can deem fit. 

The man could predict rains almost a week away by breathing the air around him. Such was his relationship with the outside world. 

If Ignotus feels something is wrong, his brothers believe it without hesitation. 

“I had the same thoughts that Father conveyed for more than a year now, but I didn’t proceed with it without proper confirmation.” 

“How would we find out?” Antioch questioned, running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“We are not connected to the outside world through our eyes and ears, Ignotus. Not with magic. We need more than your excellent abilities to get to the root of the problems our village is going through.” 

Cadmus hummed his agreement. “Brother is right, Ignotus. None would question us, but that does not mean we can act on an instinct.” 

“I understand.” Ignotus nodded. “I will see to it. Don’t worry.” He assured his brothers as they dispersed, each in their own thoughts about the steps they wanted to take going forward. 

He had just been to sleep two hours ago and this vision woke him up in the dead of the night. He had half expected to not see any more of these events in his head, but he was proven wrong. They had returned and it was a short one compared to the previous memories he had witnessed. 

He was supposed to attend the Wand Weighing Ceremony tomorrow morning, an event that was a part of the Triwizard Tournament which would comprise the champions having their wand checked by Garrick Ollivander who would make sure that they were in proper order for the tournament. 

‘An unnatural flood and drought.’ He would be surprised if such a thing was possible. Manipulating nature to your wish was supposed to be impossible. However, according to the older Peverell brothers, Ignotus could make use of nature in his magic. 

‘Why couldn’t you have gone on a bit longer?’ He questioned, only to sit up instantly when he heard a familiar voice in the back of his head. 

“Why? What is the hurry?” The voice questioned and Harry sat still, not moving as he tried to clear his mind in a hurry. 

“Ignotus Peverell?” He whispered and he was surprised when he received a reply. 

“That is my name, yes.” Harry didn’t know what to say. He had been used to receiving silence for his questions, but now that he received one, he was unable to form a sentence. 

“Well? Ask away.” Ignotus Peverell spoke once again. “You didn’t ask me here to sit in silence, did you?” 

Every question he held began to rush in all at once as he tried to make use of this opportunity and he began firing questions rapidly to find answers all at a time. 

“Calm down. What am I supposed to be answering if you ask me everything at once?” 

“Why am I seeing these memories?” Harry questioned. “I am not averse to learning about my family history, but I have not heard about any such similar occurrences from anybody else around me.” 

“Just a lesson in the past. Nothing more. You will want to know about it. Trust me on the same.” Ignotus replied. 

“They say listening to voices inside your head is the first sign of madness,” Harry muttered only to hear a chuckle from the voice. 

“Well, we are all mental in some ways. Maybe you are more so than the others.” 

Harry scoffed in disbelief as the man laughed inside his head. Dead men were making jokes. Maybe the man was right after all. Maybe we were all crazy. 

“On a serious note, you are not going mad, young man. I don’t speak to you unless you ask me to.” 

“Good to know.” Harry nodded. “What next?” 

“You grow.” The voice answered. “You make sure you go on to be a better version of yourself. Personal development to be clear.” 

“You are about to take a step towards your goal. It's a step in the right direction, I believe. But there is a lot you have to learn. A lot of ground to cover.” 

The voice paused for a few seconds and chuckled. 

“Well, I will leave you to it. Have a good night’s rest. We will be speaking a lot going forward.” 

“Hello?” Harry called out, but this time, he was met with silence. “Well, what do you know? I am speaking with a dead man from centuries ago.” 

He was not satisfied with the conversation. He had a lot of questions jammed up in his head, but he was satisfied at the promise of a next time for now.” 

BREAK—---

“Good morning, Garrick.” Dumbledore smiled as he greeted the older man who arrived in his office. The man shook hands with the Headmaster and took a seat across. 

“We will be leaving in a few minutes. The champions and the Head of the schools will be present as well.” 

The man nodded his understanding. “But there is something more to discuss, Albus. What about Mr Potter’s wand?” 

“He visited my shop not long ago, looking for answers. We both know that it is not something that should be revealed to the general public.” 

The Headmaster seemed to be deep in thought as he contemplated the wandmaker’s words. He had not put much thought into the identity of the wand being revealed and now that Garrick brought it up, he knew that it was a valid question.

“Is there any way that you see no need to describe the wands, Garrick?” 

“Of course.” The man agreed immediately. “I can check the condition of the wands and finish it off without much fuss. There is no necessity for any revelations. The purpose of today’s program is to check if the wands were in correct working condition.” 

“Excellent.” Dumbledore clapped his hands in relief as he stood up. “Shall we?” He questioned as he walked around his table and accompanied the man out of the door. 

The two continued their walk in silence until Ollivander spoke again. 

“Do you think it was wise to burden the young man with an artefact of that magnitude, Albus?” 

“There was nothing much I could do.” Dumbledore shrugged. “He won over the allegiance of the wand from me and I could not deny his authority over the wand.” 

“Don’t you think that you could have avoided giving him the wand?” Ollivander questioned, but Dumbledore chuckled. 

“But does it not stand against everything your craft represents, Garrick?” Dumbledore questioned rhetorically. “Will you be satisfied with your profession if you ever let a witch or wizard use a less-than-par wand for their use?” 

When Ollivander shook his head in negative, Dumbledore smiled. 

“It is similar, old friend. Very similar.” 

BREAK—--

He was asked to come into this particular classroom where the event was supposed to take place. He had decided to not attend the Potions class which was in progress currently, knowing that the man would undoubtedly cause a scene if he asked to leave mid-lesson. 

The Wand Weighing Ceremony is an event connected to the tournament in which every competitor's wand is tested to see if they are in proper condition and that the person won't face any difficulty going forward in the tournament since the wand would be the only source of weaponry that they would be using. 

His thoughts were majorly focused on the revelations that could be made about the wand he held. He hoped that Ollivander would be discreet about the wand, but he had yet to learn what the ceremony entailed. 

He observed that the other champions had arrived and were waiting for the judges' arrival and Harry joined them without a word, waiting in silence until he heard somebody walk up to him. 

“Harry?” Cedric Diggory was speaking to him and Harry nodded his greeting. “Cedric.” 

“Ready for the tournament?” The older boy questioned and Harry shrugged, nodding along. 

“I don’t know. For the tournament in particular, no. For my survival, yes I am.” The young Hufflepuff made to reply, but shut his mouth, unable to decide what to say. 

“Sorry about the badges.” Diggory cut in breaking the awkward silence that had built around them. “I didn’t know that the badges would work like that. I would have never allowed my housemates to wear it.” 

“Come now, Diggory. You and I both know you couldn’t have done anything about that. If you thought for a second that those people would listen to you, especially in my case.” Harry returned, disbelief evident in his face. 

Before they could continue, the Heads of the schools along with Barty Crouch, Ollivander and another man that Harry was sure he had seen somewhere. The group was followed by two more arrivals, one a blonde-haired woman with heavy curls surrounding her heavily jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles studded with rhinestones and had thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

‘Rita Skeeter.’ He remembered Narcissa speaking about the woman. This woman was the most annoying person one could meet. A woman who cared little about a person and would go to any lengths to get information regarding somebody. Ruthless, nosy and annoying. She had ended several careers with her publications and in the meanwhile earned a reputation for herself. 

A man accompanied the reporter with a camera in hand who was supposed to be working with her and the two made a beeline towards the group of students. 

“Well, well,well…” The woman simpered as she stood in front of the contestants. “The students of the hour. How are we doing today, champions?” 

“Mr Krum? Representing your country in a Quidditch World Cup and now, the coveted Triwizard Champion for the Durmstrang Institute. How do you feel, Mr Krum?” The woman didn’t pause for one second taking the Bulgarian by surprise. 

“Excited? Nervous?” The young man was flummoxed by her question and her approach in general. 

“Who are you?” He questioned, his accent thick in his speech and Harry couldn't help but smirk at the expression on the woman’s face. 

The woman managed to regain her composure and smiled as she addressed Krum. 

“Rita Skeeter, Mr Krum. The reporter for the Daily Prophet and I have been asked to cover the Triwizard Tournament.” 

“Okay. Why would I be nervous?” Harry thought about how much the young man sounded like a goblin monster from one of those stories he used to read back when he was going to primary school. 

“You tell me.” The woman smiled as a magical quill flew out of her purse along an enchanted parchment and began taking notes in the air. 

“No comments. Sorry.” Krum muttered as he casually ignored the woman and turned away from her. Skeeter was unwilling to be put off very easily as she continued to pester the young man for a few more minutes trying to get something out of the young man. Still, Krum had experience dealing with reporters and easily evaded every question from the woman. 

Harry observed that the quill moved on Skeeter’s instructions and she was passing on suggestions to the quill which went on scribbling on the parchment. 

When Krum didn’t seem to budge, the woman’s eyes instantly reached out towards him and she made a beeline towards where he was standing. 

“Mr Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived and now the fourth Triwizard Champion. What do you have to say?” Before Harry could come up with an answer, she was off. 

“Boy-who-lived, on the Path To Glory. Has a nice ring to it.” She hummed as she waved her finger at her quill which began taking notes in the parchment. 

“That is enough, Ms Skeeter.” The woman stiffened as Dumbledore’s voice cut in, crisp and plain and the woman stepped away from Harry and faced the aged man. 

She planted a fake smile on her face as she stood in front of the aged man, who Harry guessed was not pleased by her presence. 

“You have been asked to cover for the tournament, Ms Skeeter. Not to cover for young Mr Potter or Mr Krum.” 

The woman plastered a fake smile on her face, as she addressed the elder man. Harry could make out a slight nervousness on her face. 

“The public deserves to know, Dumbledore. I must make sure the news reaches them. Britain is excited about the tournament especially so, that two of its own are involved in the tournament.” 

The woman argued. 

“So, give the public what they want.” Dumbledore returned. “Not at the expense of my student and my guest. Now if you could step aside, we would like to begin.” 

The woman nodded grudgingly, though it did not prevent her from glaring holes into the back of the man’s head. 

Dumbledore smiled, a complete one-eighty from his mood from a few moments ago and clapped his hands together. 

“Very well. Without further ado, let us begin.” He signalled for the new man who stepped up. 

“Welcome to the Wand Weighing Ceremony of the Triwizard Tournament. My name is Ludo Bagman and I am the representative of the Ministry of Magic along with Mr Crouch who will be functioning as the judges for the tournament along with your Headmasters and Headmistress.” 

The man paused for a few seconds for dramatic effect but continued with his speech. 

“We have with us today, the premiere wand maker of magical Britain, Garrick Ollivander.” The old wandmaker stepped up from his seat and took his place in front of Harry and the other competitors. 

“If you would please,” Bagman addressed Ollivander who nodded and took centre stage. 

“Good morning, Champions.” The man smiled at the group as he greeted them. 

“This is a simple event. I will ask each one of you to come up and hand me over your wands. I will be performing a check to make sure that they are in fine working order.” 

“You have been informed by now that your wands are the only weapon you will be using in the competition. If there is an issue with your wand, I will be finding it out.” 

“You can acquire a new one if deemed to be a problem, but the new one must be checked by me once again before you are supposed to use it in your tasks. Clear?” 

When he received accepting nods from the people around him, he called up Krum. 

The man accepted the wand of the young man and went about examining the artefact pausing and humming to himself. 

“Yes…yes.. Excellent. Gregorovitch’s creation, I take it.” Krum nodded a look of pride adorning his face. 

“One of the last three he prepared before retiring,” Krum added, as the older man continued to examine his wand. He then proceeded to conjure a small flame ball from the wand and nodded satisfactorily. 

“Perfectly fine. Here you go, Mr Krum.” He returned the wand to the Bulgarian and then faced the French witch. 

“Mademoiselle Delacour.” The young woman stood up gracefully from her seat and walked up to the wandmaker. 

“Hmm…Okay. Very good. Very good. This is special. A close bond. A very close bond. A family of sorts.” 

The man faced the blonde witch as he twirled the wand between his fingers. 

“A gift from a family member?” The young woman nodded, a smile adorning her face. 

The wandmaker conjured a bouquet, handing it over to the young woman, nodding in satisfaction. 

“Perfectly fine.” He said, handing over the wand back to the young woman. “Mr Diggory?” 

“Wait?” Harry couldn’t help but groan softly, as Skeeter spoke from her seat. “We need more details. What is that wand made of?” She questioned, nodding towards the French witch. 

“That is not necessary Ms Skeeter.” Ollivander returned. “The wand and its contents are not for every ear, Ms Skeeter. They are rather personal to the owner of the wand.” 

“Mr Diggory. Please come forward.” He continued, ignoring the woman and held out his hand as the young man placed his wand in his hand. 

“One of mine.” He said as he brushed the length of the wand. “You have looked after it with great care, Mr Diggory. Excellent job.” 

“I know my creations very well, Mr Diggory. Your wand is in perfect shape. Good luck with the tournament young man.” He returned the wand to the young man and finally faced Harry. 

“Mr Potter?” Harry obliged and walked up to the man with his wand in his hand. He was relieved that the man had decided to keep the information about the wands secret. 

The man held the Elder wand in his palm and shuddered slightly, an action that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the occupants of the room. 

“My… that is a very powerful bond, Mr Potter. You have become well accustomed to its ways, I believe?” Harry shrugged, not knowing what to tell the man. He was certainly not accustomed to the ways of his wand, but he guessed that it was not necessary to point that out considering the wand worked better than his previous one for him. 

“Hmm…Very good, very good.” He returned the wand to Harry, smiling at the young man. 

“It hates being away from its owner.” He said and Harry remembered the many times he felt the urge to curse the person who took his wand away from him. He had disarmed Dumbledore and Ollivander immediately after they took his wand away even though it was no more than a few seconds. 

“Use it well, Mr Potter. With great power comes great responsibilities. Always keep that in mind.” 

As Harry returned to his seat, he noticed Rita Skeeter whispering furiously at her quill which was busy scratching away on the enchanted parchment. He guessed that tomorrow’s newspapers would have some content that he would not be pleased with, but he could care less for now. 

Dumbledore and Ollivander shared a few words in hushed tones and the Headmaster finally turned to address them. 

“Thank you, champions. That will be all for today. You have my gratitude, Garrick. Thank you for your presence. With that being said, the first task will be taking place on the 24th of November. The nature of the tasks would be revealed on the day of the task.” 

“Any doubts?” When he received no questions from the students, he continued. 

“Very well. You are dismissed.” 

Harry was the first one out of the room, not wanting anything to do with Skeeter. He was sure that she would end up annoying him and he would lose his temper. 

“So, you have identified what it is you hold, I assume?” It was Ollivander. The man had followed him out from the likes of it. 

“I have.” He answered honestly. 

“I am still in the process of working out everything that makes the wand special, but with limited knowledge of what carrying it entails. I don’t know if it enhances my magical ability or if it changes absolutely nothing. I guess with time, I will find out how it works.” 

The older man chuckled, his eyes bright as he shook his head. 

“Wands never work that way. No wand increases somebody’s magical power or ability. Your abilities are your own. They grow on your own. You hone your skills with time. Those skills get better only with practice, not the nature of the wand or the history of the wand. Your wand is only a medium, Mr Potter. Your wand is nothing more than a stick with multiple magical components blended into one. They don’t do anything more than that.” 

“A wand is for finesse, Mr Potter. Your wand is used to regulate your spells and to make sure that they are under the castor’s control.” 

“Your wand should not be something you must be relying on to get you out of tight situations, Mr Potter. Your skill should be your power. Keep that in mind every time you think of your wand.” He instructed as they parted ways. 

“Is that all?” He asked himself as the man walked away. He doubted if this wand could be dismissed as only a piece of stick. The story that goes with it reveals that there have been numerous deaths for the sake of this wand. He didn’t know how much was true. He would have to question Ignotus the next time they have a conversation. 

If that part of the story was true, he needed to know what was special about the wand to take so many lives. The wand was supposed to be unbeatable, but the wand has never remained in one hand and those men who have held the wand have lost their lives because of it. 

“Why is my life so complicated?” He groaned as he began walking back to the Gryffindor common room. 

BREAK—-

“Come Lucius. What do you have for me?” The Dark Lord said as the Malfoy lord entered his chambers. 

“I have news, my lord.” The man whispered. “The first task will now be taking place as expected. I have made sure that the dragons would be the first task.” 

“Very good.” The Dark Lord praised the man, stroking his ego to some extent, knowing that such words would only help fuel the man to work towards his benefit. The purebloods liked to think they were sophisticated, but they possessed the ego of a ten-year-old child. 

They whine and moan about things going their way and when it doesn’t they are annoyed. If things are in order, they are the happiest and do things without question. 

He had perfected how to manage this lot and knew when to punish and praise. It would have been difficult to manage what he did if he did not know how to manage the purebloods. 

“The problem is that the decision will not be received very well. Dumbledore will oppose this decision.” Lucius grumbled. 

“He will. That is expected.” The Dark Lord hummed. Of course, Dumbledore would interfere. The man would always interfere. 

‘His time will come.’ He thought as he nodded to himself. The sooner he got rid of Dumbledore, the better for his plans going forward. Dumbledore would be the end of the road for any willing to fight. The majority would back away once he was dead. 

The rest can be neutralized without much effort from his side. If Dumbledore falls, the rest would not have the power to stand up, barring Potter who has his days numbered. 

“Why all this hard work, Lucius?” The Dark Lord questioned, curious about the reasons. The man was working very hard to try and bring in the Triwizard tournament and then making sure that Potter gets into the tournament and now with the dragons. 

“Insult, my lord.” The man bristled, his face turning slightly red. “He had the gall to slap my son in public and then pushed me away like I was nobody in front of the wizarding public. He then had the gall to warn me out in the open.” 

The Dark Lord had to fight the urge to return a few choices of words, but he didn’t want to offend the man. 

‘Pathetic. How are they considered adults?’ 

“Very well.” He sighed. “Make sure that Potter is delivered to me, Lucius. I want him alive. I can care less if he loses a limb or a leg, but if he ends up dead in this grand plan of revenge of yours, I will kill you.” 

The man blanched at the warning, surprised by the warning that was being sent his way. 

“My lord?” He stuttered, not expecting a brutal answer from the Dark Lord. 

“Yes, Lucius. Remember once again, that I need the boy alive. If you fail in that task, I will end you. Simple as that. I hope I am clear?” 

He hummed satisfactorily as the Malfoy lord nodded and smiled. 

“Very good. Off you go, Lucius.” The man was quick to get out of the room as soon as he was asked to which suited well to the Dark Lord. 

“ssss..Be ready, Nagini.. sss” He hissed as his snake slithered up next to his seat. 

“One of these daysss….You will be eating him….sss” 

BREAK—-

“Minister?” Cornelius Fudge looked up from the paperwork he was looking into as his Undersecretary popped in. 

“Yes, Delores? I am busy. Make it quick.” The man replied, annoyed by the interruption. 

“Dumbledore is here to see you, Minister.” 

The man put his quill down, shaking his head as he guessed why the man had arrived at his office. He had hoped he could have put this off for a while longer, but that was asking a lot. 

“Show him inside, Delores.” He instructed and the woman left returning a few moments later with the aged Headmaster in tow. Cornelius stood up in greeting and extended his hand to the man, smiling as he did so. 

“Good morning, Albus.” 

“Cornelius.” Dumbledore returned, his voice crisp as he regarded the man briefly.

“What can I do for you, Albus? Anything you wanted to talk about?” Cornelius questioned. 

“You have sanctioned the first task in the tournament to involve dragons,” Dumbledore stated, staring the man dead in the eye. 

“I just received the information regarding the arrival of the dragons to Hogwarts. Do you realise what you have done, Cornelius?” 

“It’s the Triwizard tournament, Albus. This is how the tournaments have always been conducted. They are not supposed to be for the faint-hearted.” The Minister snorted, waving away the man’s concerns. 

“We are giving them a thousand galleons, Albus. They will go on to be in-demand wizards and witches going forward. Their names are going to be a part of history. That doesn’t come cheap, Albus.” 

“We are talking about dragons, Cornelius. Dragons.” Dumbledore shot back, surprised by the man’s audacity.  

“Fully trained dragon handlers fail to subdue one fully grown dragon without the help of their colleagues and yet here you are, asking barely of age adults to fight the dragons. Are you in your senses, Cornelius?” 

“Now see here, Dumbledore.” The man cut in angered by the words from the man. “It is the Ministry that is organising this tournament. You and your school are playing hosts. Don’t question my decisions and never treat me as a ten-year-old again.” 

“It is a competition, Dumbledore.” 

The temperature around the room dropped considerably and Fudge felt a chill run down his spine. Dumbledore stood up, glaring at the man and Fudge guessed that this was Dumbledore’s work. 

A feeling of suffocation enclosed his personal space and he felt himself sweating profusely. 

“A competition?” Another chill hit him in his spine as Dumbledore spoke again. 

“You are playing with four innocent lives all for a competition. Are you willing to risk everything you have built for yourself, Cornelius?” He questioned, his voice carrying a slight edge that unnerved the portly man. 

“You seem to be under the impression that I am here for making requests. Please don’t be.” 

“You will call back the orders for the tasks right away. Make it quick, you understand?” 

The Minister swallowed hard but shook his head, hastening to explain his reasons as he observed the furious expression on the older man’s face. 

“I can’t call the orders back. They have progressed further and it would be a waste of resources to reverse them. I can make sure that we alter the tasks slightly and deploy dragoon handlers in high numbers around the dragons to make sure that nothing goes out of hand.” 

Dumbledore was silent for a while, deep in thought and finally relented, nodding his agreement. He was not satisfied by any means. His students were being put in a life-and-death situation and could not walk away from it. The least he could do was make sure that they came out of the tournament safely. 

“That would be acceptable.” He muttered as he walked towards the door. 

“I don’t know what happened to you, Cornelius. You are not the same man that I was happy to see take this post two decades ago.” Dumbledore was truly disappointed. He had come to expect it by now. He had witnessed four different Ministers in his life span and every one of them had shown promise before being consumed by the luxury and power that came with their position.  

“I sincerely hope that you don’t get carried away by your power, Cornelius. Not to boast about it, but I rejected the seat that you sat in numerous times and for good reason. My priority, my sincerity and my wand is for the public. If they are endangered in any way, I will be there in the forefront, fighting against the danger.” 

“If you turn out to be that danger, I will fight it. Have no doubts.” 

Fudge let out a sigh of relief as Dumbledore stepped out of his office, feeling an invisible weight being lifted off his shoulder. He could not sideline Dumbledore and carry on with his plan. The man could cause a lot of problems for him and he did not want that. 

BREAK—--

“What are your troubles?” He heard the voice of Ignotus question, breaking him from his thoughts. 

“I can feel the questions in your head. It is really difficult living in here with all those doubts of yours.” 

“Well, are you ready to provide some answers?” Harry shot back, hoping he would be ready to provide some answers about the wand. 

“Depends,” Ignotus answered. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why are you in my head?” He questioned, hoping he would get an answer to the question that was troubling him for a while now. 

“I asked you why I was seeing the events of your life being played out, but I never questioned your presence. This should not be possible, Mr Peverell.” 

“We live in a world of wonder, young man. Our lives are surrounded by things that are supposed to be impossible. My conversation with you is the least surprising matter in our world.” The man chuckled. 

“You have a responsibility, Harry. A responsibility that has been thrust upon you for the mistakes of me and my brothers.” 

Harry was confused by that statement. What responsibility was being discussed here? He felt a familiar feeling of dread as he heard the man talk. 

“This dark lord of yours is a challenge in your path. Your fight is for your future and those that come after you. It is for the survival of our bloodline.”

“I will tell you everything you need to know. You will live the life we led through your visions and you will know everything you need to know. Yes, you can walk away, but I know the kind of man you are. I don’t think you will choose that option.” 

Harry sat in silence as he considered the words of Ignotus. A part of him was furious. He was dumped with a responsibility that was not supposed to before he could walk and talk and now, he was being dumped with another responsibility that was a result of the actions of his forefathers from centuries ago. 

Another part  of him was indifferent. He couldn’t help but wonder what the man was talking about. He was used to doing things that were not supposed to be his responsibility, but this was supposed to be related to his bloodline. 

“What is it?” Harry questioned.  “Please be clear. I have enough on my plate already. I don’t want any more riddles.” He was fed up with not finding answers to his questions and the people knowing the answers, not providing him with proper answers. 

“There is a curse. A curse on me and in extension, my family and in extension, you.” 

The first thing he remembered was the conversation that he shared with Luna at the beginning of the year in the Express. He remembered Luna talking about a bloodline curse that only somebody from the bloodline would break. 

“Yes. The girl was talking about you.” Ignotus agreed. 

“What curse?” Harry questioned his tone one of caution, not knowing what to expect next from Ignotus. 

“A bloodline curse,” Ignotus replied. 

“I had one daughter, Harry. Iolanthe. She went on to marry Hardwin Potter and that is where the curse began taking effect.” 

“The curse was meant for me and the Peverell family alone, but Iolanthe married into your family and my brothers had no children of their own. The curse has carried over into your line from my daughter. Ever since Iola married into your family, no father has ever seen his child prosper.” 

Harry frowned in confusion, not knowing what the man was trying to explain. Before he could ask a question, Iggnotus continued. 

“What does a father cherish the most?” Ignotus questioned. 

What could he think about being a father? He never had one and he was not one. The only memory he held of his father was the memory of him spending time when he was a baby which is the memory that he uses to cast his patronus. 

“Every father, wants to see their child grow up in front of them, Harry. When I had my daughter, I wanted to be part of every stage of her life, from her first steps to her first words to her first bouts of magic, to her first day in school, her first argument with me and her adult life.” 

“But ever since Iola became a Potter, no parent has lived to see their children grow up to be adults.” 

Harry was shocked by what he had heard from the man. This was not something that he had hoped to hear and the very thought of such a scenario was impossible to digest. 

“Once, twice or thrice can be a coincidence, but the same occurrence every time is not something that happens by chance.” 

“How?” Harry questioned, his voice barely above a whisper as the magnitude of the situation began to sink into his head. 

“How is that possible?” He questioned, a scoff escaping his lips. “How can you curse an entire bloodline? That shouldn’t be possible.” 

“You will need to wait for your answer, Harry. You need not hear everything today.” 

“But…” Harry protested, only to be cut off mid-sentence. 

“Trust me on this one. You will have all your answers, but you need to live my life in your eyes to understand why things happened as they happened.” 

He wanted to protest. He had several questions running around in his head, but he decided against it. He will have his answers from the man. If he is asking for some time, it would be fair to give it to him. His mood was down in the dumps at the moment and he did not need any more depressing thoughts all in one go. 

“Thank you for understanding, Harry,” Ignotus replied only for Harry to shake his head. 

“You are making it difficult for me to trust you after this.” He shot back, barely keeping his anger in check.

“If your reasons are worth it, fine, but if not, don’t you dare show up in my head.” 

He didn’t hear an answer from the man and Harry appreciated the silence. He did not need to hear anything more for the night. 

TBC—-------