⫶⫶⫶ ᴇ ᴅ ᴇ ʟ y ɴ ⫶⫶⫶
― Edelyn Aurélia Black learned
from a young age that h e r o e s
aren't always the ones who win.
They're the ones who fight. And
so, Edelyn fights, until the green
lying dormant beh...
"What? Come to ask for another statement of forgiveness? On whose death this time?" Edelyn's voice was bitter cold.
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at her before turning to Mr Weasley. "We shall require somewhere private to speak."
"Yes, of course," Mr Weasley spoke, looking slightly nervous. "The — er — sitting room, why don't you use that?"
Once they had settled themselves into seats back inside the Burrow, Scrimgeour pulled out a drawstring pouch from inside his cloak and unrolled a piece of parchment. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will." He gave them scrutinizing looks before dropping his gaze down to the parchment. "The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore..."
Edelyn watched thoughtfully as Scrimgeour passed Ron Dumbledore's deluminator and Hermione a copy of theTales of Beedle the Bard. Her eyebrows then furrowed in bewilderment as he passed her an old, red leather-bound Hogwarts yearbook with the dates 1997-1998 embroidered in golden thread. Not wanting to open it in front of the Minister but eager to see what was hidden inside, she impatiently drummed her fingers against the cover while Scrimgeour continued to give Harry a golden snitch.
"Right," Harry muttered, cupping the golden orb in his palms. "That's all, then, is it?"
"Not quite," Scrimgeour replied, voice laced with irritation. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter: the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately, the sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore's to give away. As an important historical artefact, it belongs—"
"To Harry," Hermione spoke firmly. "It came to him when he needed it in the Chamber of Secrets. It chose him, and it came to him out of the Sorting Hat—"
"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided." Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at Harry in scrutiny. "Now, why do you think—?"
"Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" Harry quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."
"This is not a joke, Potter," Scrimgeour angrily growled. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Interesting theory...Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort?"
"Look, Potter." Scrimgeour's voice rose in sync with his temper. "I don't know what you're up to, but you can't fight this war alone!"
"Oh, so you want me to cooperate with the Ministry, then, do you?" Harry scoffed. "Well, fat chance when the Ministry is doing absolutely nothing other than cover up breakouts from Azkaban and pretending like everything's just dandy."
"You go too far!" Scrimgeour shouted, jumping up and lifting Harry to his feet by the collar, wand jabbed so hard into his chest that a hole singed into his shirt like a cigarette.
Rising to her feet, Edelyn glared dangerously at Scrimgeour and snarled, "Don't you dare."
Well aware of the girl's heritage and seeing a glint of green flash in her eyes, Scrimgeour released Harry and stepped back, nose flaring as he took deep breaths to recompose himself.
"I do believe," Edelyn spoke through gritted teeth, "that you should leave, Minister."
Scrimgeour's expression hardened, then with one last look at the four adolescents before him, turned away and stormed out of the room.
▃▃▃
❛ One-sixty. ❜
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published, 06. 11. 2018
°please consider voting/commenting if you like this story to support its success :) hugs, aelizia☽
