The Lost Horcrux

Kingly Favours

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

***

Harry withdrew the blade of Excalibur from the second Death Eater's chest with a deeply satisfying sschhinng. One of the main lessons he'd learned from the ZGD was not to be showy in battle, not to toy with his prey. Acquire your target, eliminate as quickly and efficiently as possible, don't give them time to react or raise an alarm.

He'd also learned that while Disillusionment Charms were useful, his Invisibility Cloak was far better.

As he surveyed the wreckage he'd caused, he accepted that he'd absorbed both these lessons very well. He sheathed Excalibur and drew his wand, tapping it to the frame of his glasses. He didn't often wear them anymore. Frankly, perched on top of his turban-like shawls, they made him look rather ridiculous. A single contact lens was far more sensible.

But glasses still had a use, and as Harry cancelled the Night Vision and Body Heat detection spells he'd cast on them, he was potently reminded of this fact. His Cloak had shielded him completely from the surveillance and scanning charms the Death Eater guards had been using. They hadn't seen him coming, whereas his lone eye had been fixed on the glowing heat signatures of their bodies.

Bodies now turning cold at his feet.

Harry cast a defence diagnostic rune in the air, pushed his magic into it and shot it at the house. His wand was behaving in a peculiar manner. It was leaving behind a light trail every time he waved it. It looked pretty cool against the darkness of the night, but Harry was suspicious of the change. He thought he knew what was causing it though.

The magic of the Potter Legacy was still settling on him. Or, rather, unsettling him. It hadn't yet been properly absorbed and the magical base of his being was tentatively resisting it. He would have to get into ritual soon to deal with it. He was shivery and shaky, as one is after being severely sick. It was distracting.

Though he half thought Hermione might have something to do with that.

He was a little mindless after their reunion, positively euphoric over the hug they'd shared. She wasn't supposed to have reacted like that, or said the incredible things she had. Harry was rattled by it, his careful plan shattered into a thousand wondrous pieces. He needed a new plan, and this gift to her would form its foundation.

The rune returned to him and Harry grinned darkly in triumph as he absorbed it. Zabini's guards hadn't got the house wards up in time. He would be utterly unprepared. Harry stood and touched his wand to his temple.

"Angharad! Myfanwy! Rhian!" he whispered.

In a soft whoosh the two witches materialised next to him. They were dressed in identical floor-length, dragonhide battle robes, though they looked more like trenchcoats. Black for the most part, with patchy red scales all down the front, and rune-carved dragon teeth toggles. Both had their wands drawn and throbbing with their magic. A second later and Rhian joined them with a light pop.

"I want you to move the bodies," Harry said lowly, addressing the witches. "Prepare a ritual circle. Nothing fancy."

"Purpose?" Angharad queried.

"I'm going to rip the Dark Mark from Zabini when I'm done with him," said Harry coldly. "Use it to send a little message to Riddle and all those he's Marked. I want them to know what happens to people who get in the way of me completing a favour for Hermione. These two will increase the effectiveness of the rite."