Harry flicked his wands towards the other side of the lake on the grounds of Potter Castle; he was practising duel casting, something which he was determined to perfect after his duel with Voldemort. The two fire whips decapitated the targets while he finished firing a spell at the practice dummy that was behind him. Sweating and panting, Harry collapsed on the ground, looking tired. He had been practising for several hours straight. It had been a month since he and Dylan had returned home from school and a lot had happened in that time.
After interrogating Barty Crouch and de-briefing Harry, Sirius and Amelia had issued arrest warrants against all those Death Eaters who Voldemort had identified in the graveyard. Unfortunately, all of them had done a runner and had disappeared underground. Sending a team of Aurors to Little Hangleton graveyard after the place had been identified proved to be useless as there was no evidence present other than traces of a dark magic ritual. Unknown to them, a large manor which used to be present on top of a hill in the village had disappeared – and no one in the village even remembered its existence or knew where it was. Dumbledore, who had tried to investigate it had realised that Voldemort had used a Fidelius Charm on the house - which he could not remember - and had turned into his headquarters.
Meanwhile, Voldemort had not wasted any time in showing the wizarding population that he was back. Barty Crouch Junior might have been executed by the Ministry but the information he had managed to acquire for Voldemort combined with the information Rookwood had been able to provide had made him smuggle giants into Britain without triggering the sensor net. There had already been multiple attacks and mass-Muggle killing, making the Ministry scramble to erase the memories of various Muggles and their contraptions – if the International Statute of Secrecy was breached, things would turn very ugly, very fast. Sirius had also informed the Muggle Prime Minister of what was happening – Magical Britain was in a state of war.
The Dementors had also sworn allegiance to Voldemort so now there were thousands of those foul creatures roaming all over the mainland. Sirius had any remaining Dementors at Azkaban destroyed with the use of Fiendfyre and then dumped their remains in the sea; a few hundred Dementors were destroyed, but there were too many of them out of control to capture them all. The Ministry had grown too dependent on Dementors over the last few centuries for them to change in such a short time. There had been several incidents of Dementor attacks on Muggles, but there had been no attacks on any witches and wizards – yet.
Not everything was bad though because the Vampires and Goblins had decided to stay neutral in the war, much to Sirius and Amelia's relief and Voldemort's frustration. There had been no werewolf attacks as yet but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. On the political side, Sirius had little success because the members of the Wizengamot were terrified to vote on any bill. If they took a stand against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they would be the next ones to be killed. There had already been an attempt on Rufus Scrimgeour's life and people did not want to be on the Death Eater's target list.
Miller's Mirrors were proving to be an outstanding source for creating awareness with the public. The Ministry knew they couldn't broadcast anything which the Death Eaters wouldn't find out anyway, so they used it as a means to inform the common witches and wizards of the country in how to defend themselves and their families from the Death Eaters, Dementors, Inferi and a host of other things. A retired Auror would teach defence and offensive spells to the public through the recording crystals so that they would be able to protect themselves in case of an attack.
Meanwhile, Harry had been training extensively since he came back to Potter Castle. Dylan, ever Harry's shadow, had decided that he too wanted to train and help his brother so he began practising against the duelling dummies as well. Harry had also lent books to Daphne for her to study and she trained with him whenever he was in a teaching mode. Harry was an outstanding teacher, something which both Daphne and Dylan readily agreed.
There had been a few attacks on the lesser populated magical shopping districts, but it hadn't come to Diagon Alley yet. Harry was also curious about what Voldemort was up to. Clearly, he had something up his sleeve because he had not taken such a serious stance against the magical world yet. The security provided to the Minister of Magic and the heads of different departments were also beefed up considerably. Sirius, Amelia and Rigel were in grave danger and were top targets along with Harry. He had also raised the war wards around Potter Castle and all its defences so that in case of an attack, he would be able to defend himself.
Just as he was staring off into the distance, he sensed someone sit next to him on the ground.
"Finished with your training?" asked Dylan, panting, his body covered in sweat. "Those practice dummies can really tire me out. I've been using it on Level Three and the spells are supposed to be lethal."
"How long were you able to hold out before you got hit?"
"Fifteen minutes," Dylan replied smugly.
"Don't get overconfident," warned Harry. "Those are just enchantments; when you're fighting someone those curses will actually be lethal, not flashes of light."
"Sorry," muttered Dylan.
"It's fine. I'm actually proud of you, so well done. I just don't want you to become overconfident. I found out the hard way that overconfidence leads you to your downfall. I don't want you to face another Lockhart or Voldemort to learn your lesson."
The two of them were silent for a while, staring at the swans which moved in the water of the lake on the expansive grounds of the castle. Birds chirped nearby, the grass was green, and they could feel a light breeze; it was so peaceful.
"It's hard to imagine that there is a war going on outside, isn't it?" said Dylan softly. "It's like we are in a different world as compared to all the chaos going on outside."
Harry hummed. "There were two more Dementor attacks on Muggles in Nottingham," he said quietly.
"What? B-But that's just – just –"
"– less than twenty kilometres from here? Yes," said Harry. "I'm going to teach you the Patronus Charm. It's actually not as difficult as people say it is. It might take some time but you'll be able to do it. Like all forms of magic, it needs intent. You need to want to conjure a guardian to help you against the Dementors. Also, this also requires an emotional component like most complex spells based on ancient magic. The Killing Curse, for example, is very difficult to cast because you need to feel the amount of hatred needed to kill. The Cruciatus Curse, on the other hand, would work only when you want to cause pain, you want the other person to suffer. Similarly –"
"Wait, if these curses have such properties, then why do you believe that magic should not be classified? I know that you don't put much into the theory of light and dark magic," said Dylan.
"Good question," Harry praised him, nodding in approval. "Tell me, Dylan. What if you have a patient in front of you who has been bitten by a snake and you can't identify the source? The poison is spreading through the patient's nerves and you need to know where it is originating from so that you can contain it. This technique was used before the more modern healing spells and magical technology were invented. Or what if a patient's heart stops beating due to unnatural means? The Crucaitus Curse can help save the patient's life in both cases."
"The Imperius Curse would greatly help in cases of healing patients who need to guide the healer to the place of injury. It was used primarily in cases of brain surgery and healing. The Killing Curse is a quick, painless death for animals which people use for food or maybe a quick death for patients who are suffering constantly. It may sound harsh, but if my parents had been tortured into insanity like Frank and Alice Longbottom, if the final decision-making power had been vested in me, I would not have let them suffer like that. I would have authorised a medically induced death so that they could be in peace. I wouldn't want them to suffer just because I was selfish in not wanting to let go. Augusta Longbottom never really understood the effect that had on Neville, having to see his parents in that state over and over again since the time he was a baby."
Dylan stood up and walked closer to the lake, dipping his ankles in the water. "You were saying about the Patronus charm?"
"Similarly, the Patronus Charm requires positive emotions to power it, backed by a strong positive memory. Joy, serenity, happiness, love ... these emotions would help you create the perfect Patronus backed by a strong memory. Think of a time when you were the happiest. Let the emotions flow through you and you will be able to cast it."
Dylan nodded. Lifting his wand upward, he chanted, "Expecto Patronum!"
A lot of silvery mist flew out of his wand, but there was no distinctive animal like Harry's. Dylan tried, pushing more magic into it but it didn't work. He collapsed on the ground, panting.
"That was bloody exhausting!" he said loudly.
"It is," said Harry. "You were already drained after practising for so long so you couldn't concentrate. Come on, let's play some Quidditch."
A week later, Harry and Dylan were in the family drawing room of the castle. Harry was sitting on the sofa with Daphne next to him as they observed Dylan. The boy was close but something held him back.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery mist appeared again but just as a creature was about to form, it disappeared. Dylan groaned as he sat on the couch opposite to the couple. "Why wouldn't this work?" he shouted in frustration.
"Your memory is not powerful enough; maybe you are not letting the emotions flow through you or you are just not connecting with the memory," said Daphne, frowning slightly. "Come on, Dylan. Try it again," she said encouragingly as Dylan got up and walked to the centre of the room. They watched as Dylan raised his wand and said, "Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery mist appeared again but Dylan's eyes rested on Harry and Daphne. He thought about how much he loved them, he thought about his Uncle Sirius, Aunt Amelia, Astoria ...
The silvery mist contorted as a creature began to form. Powerful wings emerged along with sharp talons and a beak. Dylan watched in awe as his Patronus took the form of a golden eagle ... a very familiar golden eagle – right down to the scar above the right eye.
"That's you," whispered Daphne as she looked at Harry. She smiled as she saw the happiness that was shining in Harry's eyes when he realised what his brother's Patronus took the shape of.
"I don't know what to say," said Harry softly. "I'm touched, Dylan. Thank you."
"I didn't choose it but if there had to be someone to protect me from soul-sucking demons, it would have to be you," said Dylan grinning.
Harry chuckled. "Alright, now let's start with your Animagus training."
Daphne and Dylan's eyes lit up when Harry said that. Sitting down opposite to them, Harry began explaining the process to them. Hopefully, they would be able to master the transformation within a year.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Harry grumbled mentally as his feet touched the ground at Grimmauld Place, London. He still had not been able to talk to Dumbledore about the next academic year. He had gotten his N.E.W.T. results and had scored an Outstanding in all seven subjects with extra credit. He had written to a few of his teachers to inquire about apprenticeship but all of them, except Professor Slughorn, said that he would also need to speak to Dumbledore first since they were primarily teachers at Hogwarts. To talk to the headmaster who was supposed to be very busy, Harry and Dylan were here at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
"How in Merlin's name did you escape your bodyguards, Uncle Sirius?" asked Dylan curiously.
Sirius smirked. "I'm not a Marauder for nothing, Dylan. The Aurors are under the impression that I'm still at Black Manor. My bodyguards are loyal but we can't risk anyone knowing the location of headquarters. Here, read this and memorise it," he said, handing them a slip of paper in his handwriting.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Once the two brothers read it, Sirius burnt the piece of paper. No sooner did they think of the place, a house materialised between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing the others out of its way. Sirius quickly led them to the front door as he tapped the handle. There were a series of clicks as the door opened, leading them inside.
A dim light illuminated the hallway which while not very inviting, was at least somewhat clean. "I can see why you did not want to live here," said Harry casually as they walked forward.
Sirius snorted. "This place wasn't this bad when I was growing up, you know. It used to be very elegant and tasteful but ever since my mother died, it has become terrible. All the enchantments around the house have mutated with the wild magic in the air to create strange curses and a home for magical pests. I asked the other house-elves to finally come here to do some basic cleaning. It had remained like this because I don't usually come here and even the other elves don't want to brave my mother's old house elf; nasty little thing. He hasn't cleaned anything in here for ages and you can see the results. Anyway, there's going to be a meeting soon, so do you want to come?"
"And be asked to join Dumbledore's little vigilante club?" said Harry, rolling his eyes. "No thanks. I don't work for the man and I never will. I'm actually shocked that you provided him with a house."
"Voldemort is our biggest priority right now," said Sirius grimly. "And as much as I hate to say it, things would be much smoother if I work with the Chief Warlock without any issues. This house was a waste anyway but well protected and Dumbledore wanted to add the Fidelius Charm too and since I'm the Secret Keeper I thought, why not? Go up the stairs, boys, and you'll find one of the rooms clean ... I hope."
"It's fine, Uncle Sirius," Dylan shrugged. He observed some of the scowling portraits. "Hmm, these portraits aren't so bad at Black Manor. Most of them may not be chatty, but they don't act like this. I know for a fact that Orion Black's portrait actually likes me."
"Again, the wild magic and enchantments gone bad have affected the portraits too," said Sirius in exasperation. "What that elf has been doing, I'll never know. By the way, I forgot to inform you that the Weasleys are staying here until the end of the holidays. I don't know why but it seems their home is not warded yet and Dumbledore says they are a major target. Either way, as long as they can take care of themselves, I don't care. I'll call you in an hour or two."
With that, Sirius disappeared down the hallway while Harry and Dylan were examining some of the rooms. They climbed up the stairs to the first-floor landing when they heard a crack as a door opened to the side.
"Harry, Dylan!" Fred greeted them with a broad smile.
"We didn't think you would grace us with your presence," said George, grinning widely. "Come on in."
The two of them entered the room and looked around. "Well, at least this room is clean," muttered Dylan. From behind, he heard a voice saying, "What are they doing here?"
"I'm not here to see you, Weasley," said Harry indifferently. "I came here to talk to Dumbledore but I was told they were having their meeting, so I have to stay."
Ron's ears turned pink as he began sulking. Harry simply raised an eyebrow at the twins who shrugged. "He wanted to be part of the Order but Mum and everyone else refused," explained George.
"Also, Mum has been forcing us to clean this house," said Fred. "It's like waging a war, let me tell you."
"Are you crazy?" asked Harry incredulously. "No offence but with this level of magical decay, no one without experience in dealing with curses should be going anywhere near those rooms! I wouldn't allow Dylan to go in there and your brother certainly shouldn't."
Dylan frowned. "Is it really –"
"Ron, I still can't get into the library!" said a very familiar voice. Dylan observed that Harry's eyes darkened slightly but no one else seemed to have noticed it.
"Nice to see you, Granger," said Harry cordially. "What are you doing here?"
Hermione scowled when she saw Harry. "I'm Ron and Ginny's friend," she said in her usual bossy tone. "Mrs Weasley figured that it would not be safe for me to stay in the Muggle world. I might be an important target because of the Death Eaters going after Muggle-borns."
Harry and Dylan locked eyes with each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Voldemort had other things to do rather than go specifically after Hermione Granger, whose self-importance was not something others shared. However, she was right in that Muggle-borns were in danger, though Harry doubted Voldemort would target them in large numbers this soon. He had bigger fish to fry, namely the Ministry of Magic.
"So, who's in this Order anyway?" asked Dylan, breaking the silence.
"Lots of people," Fred shrugged. "We've tried to listen to the meetings but the door is well-warded. We've met several people already, so we have a pretty good idea. There are Dumbledore's old friends like Doge and Moody –"
"Great," muttered Harry.
"Then there are a few more Aurors, Hogwarts teachers like McGonagall, Snape –"
"Snape?" exclaimed Dylan, scowling.
"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected him.
"Like that arsehole deserves that title," he sneered. "What is he doing for the Order?"
"He's a spy," Harry answered quietly, leaning against the wall casually, his ankles crossed. "He's supposed to be spying on Voldemort because Dumbledore is convinced that Snape is on his side."
"And what do you believe?" asked George curiously.
"Snape is not on Dumbledore's side. Dumbledore is taking a very risky gamble to accommodate the greasy git."
"And how would you know that?" Hermione snapped at him. "Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, so that should be enough for everyone!"
"I don't trust Dumbledore either, Granger, so that would be a little difficult," Harry shot back, rolling his eyes.
"How could you say that?" shrieked Hermione indignantly. "That's Professor Dumbledore you're talking about! He's the greatest wizard ever! The only one You-Know-Who ever feared!"
Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "The only one Voldemort ever feared?" he repeated disbelievingly. "Oh, please! Voldemort does not fear Dumbledore. He loathes him, true, and would do absolutely anything possible to get rid of the man, but fear him? No. That's just propaganda spouted by Dumbledore's supporters."
"Why don't you continue?" said Dylan, shutting off Hermione's rant as she opened her mouth furiously to recite 'facts' she had read from books.
"Yeah," said Fred slowly. "Then we have our brothers Bill, Charlie and Percy, though Percy is only here to curry favour with Dumbledore and Minister Black."
"How is that?" asked Dylan curiously. "I thought Bill was in Egypt and Charlie in Romania?"
"Well, yeah, but Dumbledore wants international witches and wizards in case the war goes outside Britain," said George with a shrug. "Bill got a transfer here to the London branch of Gringotts. He wasn't too happy, but there are other compensations."
"Like what?"
"Remember Fleur Delacour? Apparently, she wants to be a curse-breaker herself. She applied to Gringotts for a job along with personal training in the field, was placed here in London and guess who she got assigned to?"
"Bill?" asked Dylan, his eyebrow raised.
"Spot on," said George, grinning widely. "From what we've managed to find out, they spent a few weeks together and decided to go on a date and, well, it seems to be going well."
"Yes!" Dylan cried happily as he pumped his fist in the air.
"She was never a problem, Dylan," said Harry wryly. "There's no need to be that happy."
"Speak for yourself! I can't wait to tell Daphne about this!"
Harry rolled his eyes as the door of the bedroom opened and Ginny Weasley walked in. It took her several seconds to realise that there were strangers in the room and when her eyes landed on Harry, her face turned pink.
"Hi Harry!" she said in a high-pitched voice.
"Hello," Harry greeted her politely.
"Well, if you'll excuse me," said Hermione standing up. "I'll see if I can get into the library again."
"You can't," said Dylan shortly.
"And why not?" demanded Hermione angrily.
"Because you are not Black by birth or have any close blood relatives who are Blacks. Unless the Head of House gives you permission, you won't be able to enter the library or any other family warded area."
"And how would you know that?" asked Hermione suspiciously.
Dylan simply raised an eyebrow. "My brother and I live with Uncle Sirius and Aunt Amelia half the time," he said. "I'm not a Black by blood so I needed permission. Harry already has Black blood because of his grandmother but his position as godson gives him automatic access."
Hermione sat down, looking frustrated. "What's the point of having a library if other people can't enter it?"
"It's a family library, Granger," said Harry quietly, "not a public library. Family books and grimoires are heavily guarded by the members."
"It's the same way at Potter Castle," Dylan shrugged. "I couldn't enter the library or the Lord's study until Harry keyed me into the wards."
"Potter Castle?" asked Ron incredulously.
Harry shrugged casually.
Just then, the door to the room opened and Mrs Weasley poked her head inside. "The meeting is over kids, you can come down now. Be careful while coming down the stairs and don't make any noise. We don't want to wake anything."
"Wake anything?" whispered Dylan incredulously. Harry casually put an arm around Dylan's shoulders as they walked out of the room. Just as they were taking the last step to the ground floor, there was a loud sound.
CRASH!
"Tonks!" cried Mrs Weasley in exasperation as she set right the Troll's leg stand but before anyone could say anything, there was a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.
Walburga Black's portrait was screaming at the top of her voice and as she did, the other portraits began to scream too. Dylan covered his ears with his hands and looked expectantly at Harry.
BANG!
Harry shot off a cannon blast from his fingers as the portraits quietened down, looking at him in shock.
"If I hear even a whisper from any of you, you'll be very sorry indeed," said Harry dangerously, sparks coming from his fingers.
"And just who do you think you are, to demand that of me in my home?" screeched Walburga's portrait.
"Harry Potter."
"James' son?" she yelled furiously. "That blood-traitor married a Mudblood! Out! The House of Black does not entertain filthy half-bloods like you! Filth! Scum! Oh what a surprise, my filthy blood-traitor of my son is also here! Shame of my flesh! Get out, Sirius, and never come back again! How dare you all befoul the house of my fathers –"
BANG!
People came running towards the source of the commotion and were startled to see Harry pointing his wand at Walburga's portrait, the tip glowing.
"Insult my parents again, Lady Black, and you'll see exactly how proficient and talented I am in the Dark Arts," said Harry coldly. "The wards you have put up might prevent any damage to the canvas against most spells, but I'd like to see if it holds up against something as deadly as Fiendfyre. I could burn this house down in an instant and I'm sure my father wouldn't mind at all. If I use you as an example, the rest of the portraits will think twice before insulting my parents."
"Your blood-traitor of a nephew married a Mudblood, yes," sneered Harry at the shell-shocked portrait. "But that Mudblood was actually the Heiress of House Slytherin. After my mother Lily Potter died, I inherited her title. You should be honoured that I have bothered to grace my presence in your home, Lady Black, because I am Lord Slytherin!"
Walburga's eyes bulged out when she saw the Gryffindor and Slytherin rings along with the Potter Lordship ring on his fingers. "That blood-traitor you call your son is also the Lord of House Black," continued Harry angrily. "I do not take kindly to anyone insulting the man whom I love as much as my own father. Sirius Black is the Minister of Magic and has brought more glory to this family than you and your ancestors ever did. You will remain silent and go to sleep, is that clear, Grandmother?"
"Yes," said Walburga quietly.
Harry simply flicked his wand and the curtains snapped shut, plunging the corridor in silence. No one uttered a word, too awed or horrified to speak. Some were blinking in surprise when Harry referred to Sirius as his dad but none of them questioned him. The reason for the change in title was due to Harry coming to terms with what had happened at the graveyard; having come so close to death, with Voldemort having nearly manipulated him into joining his side, had struck a chord in Harry. It was only because of his family that he had managed to hold on and not be swayed by Voldemort's offer. Without Sirius and Amelia in his life over the past four years, things would have turned out much differently for him, not all of them good. This was the reason Harry had begun to refer to them as his Mum and Dad.
Sirius and Amelia had been reduced to tears the first time Harry had called them that. While Harry would always love and cherish his birth parents, he also came to regard Sirius and Amelia as his adoptive parents too and if someone were to so blatantly insult any of one them, either James and Lily or Sirius and Amelia, it was his duty as their son to defend their honour.
"That was bloody brilliant!" said George in awe.
"Scary, but brilliant," agreed Fred.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen is why you don't mess with Harry Potter," said Dylan, grinning widely.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I must say I didn't expect you to reason with my mother," said Sirius, snickering. "You spoke her language and shut her up. I've said this before but she would have killed to have you as a son. Life certainly would have been interesting in this house had you been here all those years ago. Father, Regulus and I would have definitely enjoyed it."
"She's not the only one," muttered Harry, remembering Voldemort's offer just a month ago.
Not everyone was impressed, though. Mrs Weasley looked horrified. "Y-You know the Dark Arts?" she whispered, her face slightly pale.
Harry didn't bother dignifying her question with a response. "Where's Dumbledore?" he asked.
"He's already left," said Sirius, sounding annoyed. "I told him that you wanted to speak to him but he said that he will be back in an hour or so; something important to take care of, apparently. He's suffered an injury of some kind, so he's probably gone to Madam Pomfrey."
Harry's eye twitched in annoyance but he silently followed his father to the kitchen. There was a long table with people milling around it. Harry sat down on a chair opposite to Sirius, with Dylan sitting next to him. Dylan had taken to emulating his brother by observing his behaviour, so unconsciously, quite a few of Harry's mannerisms were inculcated into his everyday life; the facial expressions, the way he carried himself – all of which were seen in Dylan as he sat down.
"Harry, Dylan," said Remus cordially as he shook hands with the two. "How have you both been?"
"Just fine, Remus, thanks," said Harry, his face impassive again.
"Lord Potter, it's nice to see you again," Mr Weasley greeted him with a warm smile.
"It is a pleasure, Mr Weasley."
"Let me introduce you to everyone," said Sirius quickly. "Harry, Dylan, this is Arthur Weasley and his oldest son Bill, both of whom you have already met at the Quidditch World Cup, his other son Percy who works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, your cousin Nymphadora Tonks –"
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Sirius," she growled, her hair turning red. "It's Tonks."
"Hi Tonks!" said Dylan brightly.
"Hey Dylan!" replied Tonks excitedly. Her smile became predatory as she asked innocently, "Now what is this I hear about you and this girl called Astoria Greengrass?"
Dylan just gaped at her in shock but once he recovered, he rounded on his brother. "You told her?" he said, looking at him accusingly.
Harry looked at Tonks in slight disbelief. "What part of keep it a secret didn't you understand?"
"Oh, come on, Harry!" Tonks huffed. "Like I wasn't going to tease him after you told me about it."
"Moving on," said Sirius loudly, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"As you already know, Tonks is an Auror and so are Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones," continued Sirius. "Then we have Elphias Doge and Alastor Moody, Sturgis Podmore, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Mundungus Fletcher and Molly Weasley."
"Everyone, this is Harry Potter and Dylan Lestrange."
Everyone in the room suddenly felt uncomfortable when Dylan was introduced and Molly Weasley actually shuddered. Dylan acted as though he hadn't seen it and politely greeted everyone.
"If we want dinner before midnight, I'll need help," snapped Molly amidst the silence. Tonks enthusiastically got up, increasing the noise level. Harry's fingers twitched when he saw many people giving Dylan looks of suspicion and fear. He actually saw Moody palm his wand.
"That's it," muttered Harry. "Come on, Dylan, we're going home!"
"Wait, Harry, where are you going?" asked Remus, many of them stopped talking to stare at the tall teen.
"I came here to speak to Dumbledore. I did not come here to socialise nor did I come here to meet the members of the Order of the Phoenix. There is only so much I can handle before I blow up and I do not appreciate the suspicious looks being directed at my brother, so can you blame me for wanting to leave before I attack someone?"
"It's not our fault," Diggle cried indignantly. "He's – he's Rabastan Lestrange's son! How do you know that he can be trusted?"
"For all we know Lestrange might have convinced the boy to spy on us," wheezed Doge.
"Constant Vigilance!" barked Moody, his gaze – magical or otherwise – focussed on the young Lestrange heir. To his credit, Dylan didn't react at all. His grey eyes were fixed on the ceiling, acting as though he wasn't listening to anyone.
The temperature suddenly dropped and the windows developed cracks. Harry's magic was leaking out of his body as he crumpled his hand in a fist. Oh, how he badly wanted to curse those ignorant fools!
"Harry, calm down," said Sirius quietly. "You can't change their minds, I've already tried. Just don't bother with them."
"How do I know that he can be trusted?" Harry hissed, his voice very quiet, eyes turning a shade of blackish green. "I know because he is my brother and I love him with all my heart. I trust him with my life, something which I can't say for the rest of you fools. The fact that you judge someone by their name, a boy who has never once met his father proves beyond a doubt just how bigoted you people are. You believe the worst of him because he is a Lestrange; you believed that my dad was a traitor because he was a Black and you threw him in Azkaban without so much as a trail, shamelessly breaking International law in the process; you hailed a baby as a saviour but you couldn't be bothered to check on that said baby for years, the result of which was me being nearly killed by those filthy Muggles I call my relatives; you believe people can't be trusted just because an enchanted hat puts eleven-year-old children in a particular House. In the end, you are all just as bigoted as the dark! You sicken me!"
There were cries of outrage at that statement but Harry ignored them. Sirius closed his eyes in exasperation but he knew that Harry was right; he himself had been like that before being thrown in Azkaban for a decade, after all. Dumbledore had knowingly thrown him in Azkaban and endangered Harry by placing the boy with the Dursleys.
Barty Crouch too had authorised Unforgivables against suspects during the last war and had sentenced numerous people without a shred of evidence to support his claim, and the same man had broken the law when it suited him, smuggling his Death Eater son out of prison and hiding him in his own home for more than a decade. It was times like this when he couldn't help but think about what Harry had once said – who said there was a difference between the light and dark?
Grabbing Dylan's arm, Harry walked out of the kitchen with people following him. Just as he neared the door, he saw something. A shrivelled old house elf, whose skin looked several times too big for it, bald with white hair growing out of its bat-like ears, was standing in the corner.
"Blood-traitors and half-blood brats are scurrying around the house," muttered the elf. "Oh, what would poor mistress say? Kreacher must do something, yes, Kreacher can't let them stay, shame on the House of Black ..."
For the first time in nearly two years, Harry was assaulted by a memory as it rammed into his's conscious mind, making him double over in pain.
"Harry!" shouted Dylan with worry as he tried to support his brother from falling down.
He was standing in the middle of a small island, smirking in triumph. This would be his greatest Horcrux yet – the locket of Salazar Slytherin himself. The cave was of special significance because this was where he had used a weaker, more primitive version of the Cruciatus Curse for the first time. Of course, he had never known about it back then, when he had used it on Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. He just knew it had hurt them because he wanted it to hurt. The two of them should never have tormented him as they had.
He scooped up more of the potion to test it as he fed it to the house-elf he had borrowed from Regulus Black.
"No, no more!" screamed the elf and he laughed at the pathetic creature's plea for help.
"Master Regulus! Mistress Walburga! Kreacher can't drink! No more, please, Kreacher doesn't want to drink more!" screamed the elf.
Dropping the locket Horcrux in the basin, he let the house-elf shriek in agony and fear as he saw the Inferi grab the elf's frail hands. He walked out of the cave, knowing that the elf would have been taken inside the lake by now. Another Horcrux was secure.
Harry gasped for breath, clutching his head as the pain intensified. He had not had one of Voldemort's memories barge into his conscious mind like this ever since he had worn Rowena's diadem. It had been just like the first time he had experienced it, but this time it was excruciatingly painful; it was like having a Cruciatus Curse being cast on his brain.
"Harry, are you okay?" asked Sirius worriedly.
"I-I'm fine," said Harry, panting hard but he collapsed against his father as he threw up on the carpet, eyes rolling in their sockets.
"I think some bed rest would make him feel better, Sirius, don't you agree?" Dumbledore suggested quietly as he watched Harry clutch his head in pain, having just Flooed into the house. His worst fears were confirmed. The connection he had always suspected to have existed between the boy and Voldemort must have strengthened due to the latter using Harry's blood for his resurrection. This was dangerous. He would have to keep a very close eye on Harry in the future.
"Dylan, take him to the second floor," said Sirius quietly. "Regulus' bedroom should be free for you to use. I'll bring Lady Greengrass here to check on him."
"Yes, Uncle Sirius," Dylan whispered as he wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, helping him walk. Harry had still not recovered from the torture he had suffered, no matter what he wanted others to believe. The Cruciatus Curse had long term effects on the mind and body and something must have happened which caused Harry too much pain in a blink of an eye.
Entering the room which had Regulus' name, Dylan shut the door. With a flick of his wand, he vanished Harry's clothes and tucked his brother in bed. After ensuring that he was comfortable and fast asleep, Dylan summoned his communication mirror and contacted Daphne. A few minutes of conversation later, he undressed for the night and quietly slipped into the covers beside his brother and closed his eyes.
He couldn't return home without Harry and since his brother was in no condition to Apparate or use a Portkey, they would have to stay here for now.
Damn, how bad must Harry have been tortured for the effects to not have disappeared even after a month?