AFiF 4, Chapter 39: The Brink

XXXVIII. The Brink

“You were fool-hardy.”

Voldemort stared as the words left her lips, her scarlet eyes flickering as they loomed over the bowed form of Bellatrix Lestrange. She watched, intrigued, as the woman swallowed.

“I had to get closer,” Bellatrix whispered, “How else was I to get proper intel -”

“Liar,” Voldemort hissed. Bellatrix winced, “You wanted to see him.”

A touch of guilt sprouted within Bella’s expression. Voldemort nodded to herself, sinking back into her throne-like armchair. Her fingers curled, her sharp nails cutting thin lines into the upholstery.

And to think, this is after he left . . .

Bellatrix slowly clawed across the battered floor.

“I still did as you asked,” she whispered half-heartedly, “I investigated the Acolytes.”

Voldemort sneered.

“You investigated the second task,” she glared, her eyes burning furiously, “Your findings on the Acolytes were procured by chance.”

She watched as Bellatrix shook her head, straightening up.

“They’re acting strange,” Bella whispered, “I’ve heard all sorts of whispers throughout France.”

“Oh?”

“They staged a coup during Yule,” Bellatrix noted worriedly, “Harry was there.”

“So I’ve heard,” Voldemort sighed irritably, “Chevalier D’Or . . . what nonsense.”

Bellatrix shivered.

“They said bad things about him,” she muttered. It sounded like she was talking more to herself than anything, “Saying he - he got hurt.”

Voldemort stared at her.

“And so you decided to task yourself with checking for yourself?”

“I had to -”

“Crucio!”

Horrid shrieks pierced through the stale air. Emily watched as Bellatrix spasmed at her feet, feeling thoroughly unsatisfied.

“Get up,” she snarled as the curse lifted. Bellatrix panted heavily, “Face me.”

The curly-haired witch slowly rose to her feet. The inhuman glow of Emily’s scarlet eyes gleamed within her own.

“I’ve been so forgiving, Bella,” Voldemort whispered, “So kind. How many times must I question your loyalties?”

Bellatrix stared.

“He’s with us,” she promised throatily, “He’s ours -”

“You are his,” Voldemort screeched, “Do not delude yourself into believing otherwise.”

She leaned back into her armchair, seething. Bellatrix shifted.

“He’s still important. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that.”

I don’t have time for this rubbish.

“You’re to meet the boy before he leaves France,” Voldemort said eventually. Her hands slid thoughtful beneath her chin, “You will inquire about how the Acolytes have inflicted themselves upon him.”

“And if he isn’t sure?”

Voldemort stared at her.

“He’s not so incompetent, Bella,” she whispered, “He will have uncovered something.”

Bellatrix nodded, looking nervous.

“Do you think he knows?” 

Voldemort paused.

“If not, he will soon,” she decided after some time, “Poisoned honesty has long been Grindelwald’s style.”

“Harry won’t fall for it,” Bellatrix bristled, still on her knees, “He’ll see through them -”

“There’s nothing to see through,” Voldemort laughed, “Grindelwald won’t lie. He doesn’t need to.”

“But he won’t reveal everything. He’ll hide the bigger picture.”

Voldemort fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Of course he will. How else could he guarantee his plans bear fruit,

“There’s something else, Master.”

Emily looked up. Bellatrix swayed nervously before her, her sharp grey eyes fixated upon a point near Voldemort’s feet.

“Speak.”

“He knew you tortured me,” Bellatrix said simply, “Harry. He knew.”

Voldemort pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to reign her frustration.

“And?”

Bellatrix flinched.

“You don’t understand. He wasn’t guessing. He knew. He - I think he saw it.”

Unseen ice crept through the room, freezing the very flow of her blood. If she didn’t know any better, Voldemort would have thought her borrowed body was failing her.

Saw. He saw . . .

“Curious,” she whispered, stilling the strange sensation that wrapped thin digits around her heart, “I will consider this further on my own.”

Bellatrix pouted.

“But Master -”

“Quiet, Bellatrix.” Scarlet eyes peered through the room, almost searching for something, “Speak not a word . . .”

The world blurred as Harry awoke, panting heavily.

-(xXx)-

Streaks of gold and crimson coated the ebony trunks of countless trees. Harry’s gaze slipped along them all, occasionally flicking in the directions of his French friends. Try though he might, he couldn’t quite discern whatever it was they were doing; his mind was far too unfocussed for that,

Unfocussed isn’t true. Just focussed on something else.

He absentmindedly brushed his fingers down the length of his robes, pausing as they pressed against a lump in his left side pocket.

“What to do with you . . .”

“Harry! HARRY!”

A chorus of waving hands blurred off in the not-so-distant distance. Harry waved them off lazily.

“In a bit,” he groaned, “I’m tired.”

“But you’re leaving soon!”

“I told you, I’m tired -”

His friends protested, but Harry tuned them out, gently laying down along the cool grass. He moved his fingers from the lump in his robes down to the cold metal band wrapped tight around his longest finger.

I could use his advice right now.

“Nott,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes, “I could really use you right now, if you’re not busy or anything -”

Crack.

It took more effort than Harry cared to admit to avoid flinching. He allowed his eyes to open after just a moment, a familiar pale figure blocking out the bright rays of the setting sun.

“Took you long enough,” Theodore snapped, glaring down at him. Harry smiled, “I was going to write you a letter demanding you to summon me -”

“The second task was yesterday,” Harry snorted, “You’re lucky I thought to call you so soon,”

Theodore frowned silently at him before glancing over at the French students in the nearby fields.

“Your friends, I’m guessing?”

“Something like that,” Harry agreed. He paused, the image of the Toussaint twins popping in his head, “Well, some of them, anyway.”

Nott rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’ve called me for a meet and greet.”

Harry stared at him.

“Be serious. They’ll be at Hogwarts in a week or two. You can meet them then.”

“They will?” Nott sounded surprised, “I don’t remember seeing them when the delegates arrived.”

“Huh -”

Oh. Oh, right.

“I forgot,” Harry murmured softly, “I suppose you won’t be meeting all of them.”

Theodore studied him carefully.

“They can’t be that interesting if you don’t even care to introduce them,” he noted.

Harry shrugged.

“I’ve never been crazy about friendship,” he admitted aloud, “You and Daphne always did the trick. They’re nice company, though.”

“But we’re better,” Nott surmised with a smile, “That might make Daphne’s week, actually.”

“And yours too, right?”

“Eh, might’ve made my minute.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’ll meet the only important one, anyway,” he said eventually, “Cerise Rosier. She’s a delegate, obviously.”

“Rosier?” Nott frowned, “The girl’s -”

“- the granddaughter of Grindelwald’s right hand, yeah, I remember,” Harry sighed, “Which, come to think of it, is kind of why I brought you -”

He dug into the pocket of his robes, retrieving the brilliant sapphire he’d procured the day before.

“Grindelwald’s bootleg resurrection stone,” Harry announced, holding the stone out. It glimmered beneath the brilliant sunlight. Nott stared at it, his eyes lined with intrigue, “What the Ministry wouldn’t do to have this -”

“What anyone wouldn’t do,” Nott whispered. He paused for a moment, stepping back, “I still think it’s a trap.”

Harry snorted.

“I highly doubt it’s going to self-destruct, if that’s the kind of thing you’re picturing -”

“Have you tried it?” asked Nott, frowning. Harry stared at him.

“No,” he admitted slowly, “I wasn’t sure who to call.”

Nott nodded slowly. Harry watched as the boy slowly sat down, moving to lay down beside him.

“Who else knows you have it? Gabrielle, I’m assuming -”

“Obviously,” Harry nodded, “That’s about it, to be honest.”

“No one else?” Nott’s brows rose in surprise, “Are you going to tell Daphne?”

Harry shook his head.

“Told her I didn’t want to give her false hope, remember?”

“Maybe,” Nott conceded, “And what about Bellatrix?”

Harry paused.

“I haven’t seen her in ages,”  he whispered, “Not in person, at least.”

Nott eyed him curiously. Without wasting a moment Harry launched into speech, telling him all about the dream he’d had some twelve hours ago.

“You’re not real,” Nott whispered after some time, “Genuinelly, you can not be real. How can one person be so - so -”

“Unlucky?” Harry supplied helpful.

“So useless?” Nott barked. Harry glared, “I mean, this stuff would be real fucking useful to know you think?

“‘Suppose so,” Harry sighed, “It’s not like it ever came up in conversation.”

“Uh huh,” Nott seemed unimpressed, “Bet it came up in conversation with Gabrielle though, eh?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. I sat her down once and told her everything. I’ve never done that with you or Daph.”

“Right. And what’s stopping you now?”

“Time,” Harry sighed, “And patience, I reckon. We can sort that out another day. For now . . .”

He toyed with the glimmering sapphire, watching as it spun through his fingers.

“You reckon it’s rigged to explode if I try to use it?” Harry half-joked. Nott grimaced.

“Doesn’t strike me as Grindelwald’s style,” the boy shrugged, “Everything I’ve heard about him paints him as the more subtle sort.”

Harry quietly nodded in agreement,

But that begs the question . . .

“Who do I call?”

Theo stared at him. His eyes seemed particularly vivid today.

“I think you know who you want to call,” Nott whispered, “I’d be more confused by how to call them.”

Harry frowned, trying to ignore the wave of something that consumed him as Theo spoke. His gaze lowered to the stone in his palm.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, if I’m being honest,” Harry admitted, “Figuring out how to use it, I mean.”

He glanced up. Theo looked confused.

“Well, it’s meant for me, isn’t it?” Harry explained, “If it really is designed to trap me, like we think it is, then Grindelwald must’ve designed it to at least work for me. No way he’d waste all that time making a stone that I don’t know how to use.”

Nott nodded after a long moment,

“I suppose that makes sense,” he admitted, “Clever, really.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry grinned. He straightened up, pulling the stone closer, “Let’s see . . .”

Show me . . . show me -

“Wait,” Nott held his arm out. Harry watched as it spun through the air, a number of Privacy Wards materializing around them. He grinned appreciatively.

“Not bad. Someone’s been practicing.”

Nott snorted.

“You inspired me on the ride to Hogwarts,” he yawned, “I’m catching up.”

Harry rolled his eyes, waving his wand. The air around them shimmered as the surrounding wards grew more potent.

“Not anytime soon, no.”

Leaving Nott to his own devices, Harry eyed the stone once more.

Who?

“Stop being a prick, will you?”

Harry looked up. Nott looked thoroughly annoyed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nott glared at him.

“Just try calling your mom or dad already,” he snapped, “Stop acting like you don’t want to see them, either.”

Harry’s jaw clenched.

“I’m not acting like -” he started, only to get interrupted.

“- you’re acting like you’re trying to prove a point,” Nott barked, “Which you are. We both know why you preferred the stone over blood rituals, at least have the balls to follow through.”

Harry glared daggers at the brown-eyed. He could practically feel the heat in his blood.

Fine.

Harry held the sapphire out, watching as the sunlight bathed it in a beautiful golden gleam.

“Show me - show me Lily Potter.”

His fingers guided the stone, instinctively spinning it thrice. Magic pooled along the underside of his nails. The stone felt hot to his touch.

I don’t . . .

A sinking feeling buried itself in Harry’s chest. Beyond him, Nott swayed uncertainly.

“Did it -”

“No.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure you -”

“Yes,” Harry said hotly. He grimaced, “I - yeah, I did it right. You’re supposed to flip it thrice.”

Nott frowned.

“I - how do you know?”

Harry shrugged.

“I felt it. That’s how it works,” he tossed the stone to Nott, who yelped, “Give it a try if you don’t believe me.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Theo frowned, eyeing the grass where the stone had landed, “I’d rather not see what Curses they’ve buried in that thing for people who aren’t you.”

Harry nodded. A dull, throbbing sensation was beginning to overtake him.

“Well, that’s that,” he spat, swiping the stone out from the dirt before tossing it into his robe pocket, “I’m going home -”

“Are you -”

“Yes,” Harry frowned, “Yes. I’ll see you later.”

And he headed down the hill without another word, his heart twisting in his chest.

-(xXx)-

“You are distracted.”

Harry’s eyes opened. Braided silver hair hung above with the stars. Beneath their strands, to bright blue eyes gleamed like ethereal suns.

Like the stone.

Harry’s lips curled with distaste.

“It is rude to gatekeep,” Gabby snapped irritably, combing her thin fingers through his hair. Harry sighed, “What is it?”

Harry thought for a long moment.

“The stone.”

Gabrielle eyed him carefully.

“It did not work, did it?”

“No. No, it didn’t.”

The last word rolled off his tongue with more than a little anger. Harry closed his eyes, his lips forced shut with frustration.

“If it is Astoria you’re worried about -”

“It’s not that,” Harry snapped irritably, “Well, it kind of is. I just know that the Acolytes can help with Astoria.”

Gabrielle frowned at him.

“How do you know that?”

“Because they have to,” he said simply, “What else could they possibly give me to get me to - to do whatever the fuck it is they need me to do?”

“There is clearly something else,” Gabby whispered softly. She eyed him sadly, “You would not be so bothered if there was not.”

Harry closed his eyes again.

It’s her. You can be honest.

“My parents,”  Harry whispered after a long moment, “I thought the stone might show me them.”

The girl’s fingers froze within his hair. Harry’s eyes felt hot.

“I’m not mad or sad or anything,” he said perhaps a little too quickly, “I got over them a long time ago, and besides, you can’t really miss something you never had.”

“Then why?”

Harry grimaced.

“For a moment it felt possible,” he admitted, “I suppose that changed things.”

Gabby’s fingers resumed their pattern through his hair. 

“I am sorry,” she murmured, “I do not quite know how to help you.”

“It’s okay. You being here is enough.”

Gabrielle nodded slowly, allowing her gaze to leave Harry’s pale features and instead roam the silhouette of Beauxbatons castle.

“There is still so much to do,” she said, her voice softer than silk, “We can explore our Owlery. It is the most beautiful thing - a large glass dome. I like the way it glimmers in the sunlight.”

Harry smiled weakly.

“We can still do that. There’s still a week before we leave.”

Gabby nodded.

“And the pools are pretty too, though I am not fond of swimming.”

“Because of Veela?” Harry guessed, “You know, the whole fire thing.”

“That too, I suppose,” Gabby agreed thoughtfully, “Although in truth it has more to do with the clothes. Unlike Fleur, I am not exactly fond of bikinis.”

Harry laughed.

“No, I didn’t think you would be,” he admitted, “I didn’t think there were bikinis in the wizarding world, either.”

Gabby shrugged.

“There may not be in England, but France is different.”

And just like that, Harry’s smile fell.

Because of Grindelwald.

“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t want to get in the pools either,” Harry yawned, “I can’t swim, remember?”

The silver-haired girl giggled.

“Loser,” she laughed. Harry glared at her, “Even I can swim.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

He turned over in her lap, his gaze shifting from the stars to the castle.

“Sometimes I wish things were always this simple,” he admitted after some time, “I feel like there’s too much going on for me to really keep track.”

Gabby nodded sympathetically.

“I can not imagine that dealing with two Dark Lords is for the faint of heart -”

Bang.

The large doors of Beauxbatons castle swept open. They looked rather small from across the field. The figure that emerged, however, was anything but miniscule.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Gabrielle hissed, squinting through the darkness.

Harry glanced over. Even with his glasses, his vision was far from perfect.

“Is that - ?”

“Yes,” Gabby gently removed his head from her lap, straightening up, “She’s been on my ass ever since the break in at the Ministry.”

On the request of your parents, no doubt.

He watched as Gabby pulled her gaze from the lumbering form of Madame Maxime, whose glowing lantern was now held out in their direction. Blue eyes met his own.

“I love you,” Gabrielle leaned closer, kissing him gently, “Get some sleep, okay? We can talk about the stone tomorrow.”

And with little more than a word, Gabrielle vanished beneath the midnight sky. Harry stared at where she’d just been for a long, heavy moment.

The stone . . .

Madame Maxime paused somewhere along the field. It was clear that she had just seen him - and only him.

“The stone,” Harry whispered to himself, “The stone, the stone, the stone . . .”

He pulled the stone from his robes as Madame Maxime turned away, heading back to the castle. The dark sapphire somehow gleamed in the palm of his hand.

How might you manipulate me?

“You’re a trap. You have to be.”

Harry spun the stone thrice through his fingers, observing it carefully.

That feels intuitive enough. But it doesn’t work -

Harry froze.

“Of course it wouldn’t,” his chest heaved, his breathing suddenly labored, “You - you -”

You couldn’t risk me just calling anyone, could you?

Harry sprinted through the field, the scarlet Hogwarts Express growing larger at an alarming rate. Within seconds he had thrown the door open, practically diving into the common room.

“It’s late,” said a faint voice from one of the armchairs. Luna Lovegood watched him carefully, “Astoria was looking for you -”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning,” Harry snapped irritably, “And I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, so unless you have another vision you’d like to share, I’ll be going now.”

He waited for little more than a moment. Luna said nothing,

Brilliant.

Not wasting another second, Harry slipped through the narrow hallway leading to the Champion’s quarters. He slid the door securely shut before holding the stone out once more, taking a long, unsteady breath.

“Easy does it.”

Marble features blurred behind his fingers as he turned the stone once, then twice, and a final third time. Harry closed his eyes.

Show me Gellert Grindelwald.

A dull light appeared behind the orangish-black of his eyelids.

“Good evening, Harry Potter,” a sharp, faint voice muttered, “Our long-awaited meeting arrives at last.”