HP: Night of the Wolf

August 1966

Over the years, it was a dinner table that did not only consist of himself and Minerva that Harry had come to appreciate, and with it being the summer holidays, he was enjoying just that.

With Jasmine still at Hogwarts, it was not every day that he had his children at home.

Rosa had married the previous year and lived in France with her husband, a man that Harry was not fond of, but one she had fallen for.

He played for the French national Quidditch team, and as far as Harry was concerned, was an arrogant sod.

He had taken no small amount of joy in defeating him in a battle of seekers.

Perhaps it was merely that Rosa was his daughter that he couldn't see past his dislike for him, but so long as Julian Borg remained respectful, Harry wouldn't take issue with the man.

Jack too had left home but was unmarried.

Harry's only son was focused on his career as an auror, something he excelled at, and something Harry was very proud of Jack for.

He had become a good man who continued to dote on his grandparents, and not a week went by that he didn't visit Harry and Minerva.

The twins had decided that they wanted to travel when they graduated, something that Harry encouraged so long as they had a suitable escort.

The girls weren't thrilled by the idea, but Harry was taking no chances.

Having discussed it with Petr, the Russian had supplied some discreet guards to watch over Dahlia and Iris.

Harry slept better at night knowing they were being looked out for, even more so they he had provided them with emergency portkeys, and other means to contact him immediately if they needed to.

For now, however, they had returned home for a break and to collect Jasmine who would be joining them having just graduated herself.

After tonight, it would be some time that almost all of them would be together again.

"Are you ready for your trip to the alley tomorrow, Bella?" Jasmine asked.

None of the family had been surprised that Harry had become a godfather to Charlus and Dorea's son, but the addition of Bellatrix Black had taken them aback somewhat, and even been a point of jealousy for Jasmine who had been young when the arrangement had been made.

Still, the two had grown closer over the years, and when Jasmine realised Bellatrix was no threat to her, she had been much more welcoming.

"Are you still coming?" Bellatrix replied.

Jasmine offered the girl a smile.

"I am," she confirmed.

Bellatrix would be going to Hogwarts for her first year and had asked Harry to take her to do her shopping.

Druella and Cygnus would be joining them too, but Bella had wanted to spend Jasmine's final night at home with her.

It was still often strange for Harry be the girl's godfather, especially when he thought back to the woman she had once been.

At first, he had mostly accepted to keep an eye on Bella, to ensure she would not become what she had or to protect wizarding Britain from that side to her, but he had unwittingly come to care for her like she was one of his own.

She was a sweet girl, more impressionable than he would like, but he had yet to see any madness in her, and he had been watching closely.

Bella stayed with them often and had even been given her own bedroom in the house, a place that she could call her own whilst she was there.

The girl was no trouble, and adored Harry, a feeling he had come to return mutually.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by Jack huffing frustratedly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Jack shook his head and placed his fork on the table.

"It's this Smith case," he groaned.

"Smith case?"

"Old Hepzibah Smith was apparently poisoned by her own elf," Jack explained. "It happened almost a year ago, and now they've put me in charge of finding some missing artefacts."

Harry frowned.

"Poisoned by her elf?"

"That's what Crouch decided happened, and the elf hasn't said any differently, not that they'd listen to her."

Harry had never heard of an elf doing anything of the sort, apart from Dobby who had defended him from Lucius Malfoy, but he no longer belonged to the man when he'd done so.

"Things went missing after she died?"

Jack nodded.

"A cup that once belonged to Hufflepuff, and a necklace belonging to Slytherin."

"That can't be a coincidence," Harry muttered to himself. "Elves don't just poison their masters."

"I said the same thing, but Crouch wouldn't hear it. It's only gotten worse since he was made head of the department."

Harry hummed disapprovingly.

He had heard of the man's appointment and remembered his demise well enough.

Barty Crouch Jr still came to mind more often than Harry would have liked.

"It doesn't make any sense," Harry said thoughtfully. "The elf, the missing artefacts…"

"Exactly," Jack agreed.

Harry fell silent for a moment.

"Kora?" he called.

The ever-loyal elf appeared next to him immediately, offering a respectful bow.

"Master Harry," she greeted him.

"Is there any reason an elf would poison their own master?"

Kora was deeply offended by the question, her cheeks puffing out as she stood at her full height.

"Never!" she said firmly. "Not even the baddest elf would do it."

"Just as I thought," Harry muttered. "Is there any way an elf could be tricked into doing it?"

Kora bit her lip and pondered the question before nodding.

"Only a very strong witch or wizard could make them."

"So, there is no way an elf would make a mistake like that?"

"We elves do not make mistakes."

Her words were sincere, and Harry offered the creature a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Kora."

With that, the elf vanished, and Harry considered what he knew.

"Smith may have been killed by her elf, but it wasn't done willingly or even by mistake."

"That means someone else was involved," Jack pointed out, "and she must have known them. No one was getting in there without permission or leaving evidence behind."

"She was a rich woman then?" Harry asked.

"Almost as rich as you, dad," Jack snorted.

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

Whoever had killed Smith had done it for the artefacts that were missing, but that didn't exactly narrow down the list of suspects.

There were many that would kill to possess such revered items.

Still, Harry could not explain why.

It wasn't as though they could be sold or boasted of.

He needed to learn more about these items.

"Do you know where they were kept?"

"In a locked safe," Jack explained. "It took a team of four cursebreakers three days to get into it."

"So, it must have been opened willingly."

"It was," Jack confirmed. "Hokey admitted to it."

"And where is the elf now?"

"Being held by the magical creatures lot."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"You need to be careful with this one, Jack," Harry advised. "I don't like the sound of it at all."

"I'm always careful," Jack chuckled, rolling his eyes at his father.

He was, and Harry was pleased that his son was much more cautious than he had ever been.

Nonetheless, there was something very intriguing about this case, and Harry was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He knew where to begin too and could conveniently pay a visit there during the trip to the alley in the morning.

"Could you get me five minutes with the elf?"

Jack released a deep breath.

"Probably not, but you could get it yourself. No one is going to refuse you, are they?"

Harry nodded.

It was one of the very few times he was pleased for his reputation and depending on how his digging went the next day, he may just need to speak to Hokey.

(Break)

Bellatrix skipped happily down the length of Diagon Alley as she clutched onto Harry and Jasmine's hands. Today, she would get her wand, and all the other things she would need for her first year of Hogwarts.

She was sad that she wouldn't see Harry as much as she did, but Minerva would be her Transfiguration professor, and Jasmine had promised that she would write to her every week.

Bella was keen to start her education.

Having seen what magic was like, she couldn't wait to experience creating it for herself.

Her dad was a strong wizard, her grandfather was even stronger, but Harry was stronger than them both.

She remembered when she was really small that Harry would create little shows for her out of bright lights from his wand, and Bella would giggle excitedly at the various creatures he would conjure.

"Shall I assume that you are excited?" her father asked amusedly.

Bella nodded frantically.

"I can't wait!"

Cygnus laughed and her mother smiled.

Bella was pleased they had decided to come along, even if her father and Harry had argued about who would be paying for her things.

Harry won the argument, as he always did, except for when he did so with Minerva, and he had given Bella a bag of gold.

She had already gotten her books, her potions equipment, and even her robes.

The only thing left was what she was most excited for, her wand.

For as long as she could remember, Harry had been teaching her about magic. Not anything dangerous or difficult, but small lessons that Bella would be able to remember.

Harry loved magic, and she had never met anyone as good with it as him.

"Baron Evans," the strange wandmaker greeted Harry. "I was not aware you had another child."

"Bella is my goddaughter," Harry explained, and Bella nodded proudly.

Mr Ollivander looked at her and smiled.

"Of course, you must be Miss Black," he greeted her. "Shall we begin?"

Bellatrix nodded, and her mother placed her hands on her shoulders to keep her still whilst a tape began wrapping itself around her.

Ollivander hummed thoughtfully as he retrieved some boxes.

"Now, as a Black, I have a good idea of what wands may choose you."

"Choose me?" Bella asked curiously.

"The wand chooses the witch, Miss Black," Ollivander explained. "Now, try this one."

Bella took the offered wand and shuddered.

It felt cold, almost as though it didn't like her at all.

"No, most certainly not," Ollivander declared, snatching it away from her before handing over another.

This one felt hot, a little too hot and the wandmaker took it as quickly as he did the first.

"A balance between the two," he murmured.

The third one offered felt perfect. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and Bella felt it connect to her immediately.

"Success!" Ollivander declared proudly. "Walnut, dragon heartstring, twelve- and three-quarter inches."

"Lumos," Bella murmured, and the tip of the wand lit up brightly, eliciting a smile from the girl. "It works!"

"Of course, it works," Ollivander chuckled. "That is quite an unyielding wand," he added with a frown. "I believe it will serve you well, Miss Black."

Bellatrix didn't know what the man meant, but she handed him the required coins before leaving the shop with Harry, Minerva, Jasmine, and her parents.

"How about some lunch?" Druella suggested.

"Only if Evans lets me pay for it," Cygnus replied.

Harry smirked and nodded.

"You go ahead, I will join you shortly."

"Can I come?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry shook his head as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Not this time," he denied gently. "I won't be long."

He kissed her on the cheek before kissing Minerva and heading towards Knockturn Alley.

"Where is he going?" Bella asked.

"With my dad, you never know," Jasmine sighed as she took her hand and led her towards The Leakey Cauldron.

(Break)

Knockturn Alley had become familiar to Harry over the years. Despite its unsavoury reputation, it was the best place to shop for certain items that vendors in Diagon Alley didn't stock.

Before entering, he disguised his features as he always did so not to alert the inhabitants to his presence.

He'd forgotten once, and the area had cleared in a matter of seconds.

Ignoring the hags trying to sell him their wares, he headed to the one shop he hoped would be able to provide him the information he sought.

If there was anywhere someone had tried to sell such distinguished items that had been illicitly obtained, it would be Borgin and Burkes.

The bell tinkered as he entered, and an older man emerged from the backroom, the curve to his spine giving the impression of weakness.

Borgin was far from that, and as slippery as they came.

"How can I help you?" the man asked in a raspy voice.

"I'm looking for information."

Borgin shook his head, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

"Information is for sale, if the price is right."

Harry smiled as he removed his disguise, and Borgin's eyes widened.

"I'll pay," he assured the man, "but it depends on how much you lie to me, Borgin. I don't appreciate being lied to."

Borgin bowed and nodded his understanding.

"I run a legitimate business here, Baron Evans. I've not broken any laws."

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not an auror, Borgin, and I couldn't care less what you get up to."

The man eyed him questioningly for a moment before releasing a deep sigh.

"What can I help you with."

"Are you familiar with Hepzibah Smith?"

Borgin winced art the mention of the woman.

"I am," he confirmed. "I heard about her body being found. Poisoned by her own elf."

"Apparently," Harry snorted disbelievingly. "Have you ever heard of an elf doing that to its own master?"

Borgin shook his head.

"I can't say that I have."

"Me either," Harry replied. "What do you know about her?"

"Not much," Borgin answered. "Caractus had more to do with her than I did."

"Burke?"

Borgin nodded.

"Died a few years back didn't he."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Harry offered. "What about Smith?"

"What do you want to know?"

"About Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket."

Borgin chuckled to himself.

"Caractus was foolish for selling her the necklace," he grumbled. "We tried to get it back several times, and the cup, but she wouldn't sell."

"You had the necklace?" Harry asked curiously.

Borgin nodded.

"Caractus brought it decades ago from some scruff who wandered in off the streets. He gave her ten galleons for it and sent her packing."

"Did you get her name?"

"No," Borgin denied. "She was ugly as sin apparently, and heavily pregnant."

"What year?" Harry pressed.

"Twenty-five, I think."

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"And you sold it to Smith?"

"Caractus did for not even a hundredth of what it is worth. Why are you asking?"

"Because both the cup and locket went missing after she had died," Harry revealed.

Borgin was taken aback and shook his head.

"Impossible," he declared. "She kept them locked up tighter than a crab's arse."

"In a safe that took cursebreakers days to get into," Harry confirmed.

Borgin huffed irritably.

"I'm no murderer if that's what you're insinuating," he said hotly, "and I don't know anything about safes."

"I didn't think you did," Harry placated, "but if there was anyone who would be interested in them, it would be you."

"I would," Borgin replied unashamedly, "but only a damned fool would take them in the first place. I get raided by the aurors regularly, and they can't just be sold on. They have no worth, not even in bragging rights."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"My point is, Mr Borgin, that those artefacts weren't stolen from the safe."

"The dozy cow got them out willingly," Borgin mused aloud.

"Did she ever show them to you?"

The man shook his head firmly.

"No, it's like I said, Caractus dealt with her. She showed them to him, and he took a photo of the cup. We already had one of the locket."

"Can I see them?"

Borgin nodded and shuffled into the back room.

He returned a few moments later and handed Harry several photographs of the items.

The cup itself was rather plain and were it not for the Hufflepuff crest etched into the bottom, it would not be unique.

"Did she often get them out of the safe?"

Borgin shook his head.

"She boasted about having them to anyone that would listen, but no one cared for the woman enough to visit her. Caractus went once a year, and I only saw her twice after he died. Both times were here in the shop."

Harry hummed but was cut off by Borgin.

"She might have told the boy that Burke took a shine to, the one that ended up killing that girl and the headmaster. I never liked the little shit and took no small amount of pleasure in telling Caractus that I told him so."

Harry didn't hear the last part of Borgin's statement.

His blood ran cold at the mention of what had happened to Myrtle and Armando.

"Riddle?" he whispered.

Borgin nodded in displeasure.

"He worked here for a couple of summers," he explained. "Burke took him to see Smith at least once. She wouldn't have missed the chance to boast about them, and Caractus would definitely have told him."

"Bollocks," Harry muttered. "Are you sure about this?"

"I would bet everything I own on it."

The man was being sincere, and Harry nodded gratefully as he placed a stack of coins on the counter.

"For your own safety, I wasn't here."

"My safety?"

Harry smirked as he reached the door.

"You just gave me some very dangerous information to know, Mr Borgin. My lips will stay sealed about where I heard it, only if yours do."

Borgin was once more taken aback.

"What do you mean, Evans?"

"It means that it is in your best interest to keep your mouth shut. You don't want him coming after you."

With that, Harry reapplied his disguise and left the shop.

He needed to warn Jack to tread very carefully, or warn him off if possible, and he needed to speak to Hokey.

Although he was certain of Tom's involvement, he needed to confirm it.

Still, who else would do something so stupid for what appeared to be no gain.

Voldemort.

Harry paused as he pondered just why he would take the items and his jaw tightened as one word came to mind.

Horcruxes.

Of course, Voldemort would be egotistical enough to want special items to corrupt with his soul.

Just how many was he planning to make?

How many were possible?

Rubbing where his faint scar remained on his forehead, Harry headed back towards Diagon Alley.

There was much to do, and there was no time to lose.

With a muttered incantation, he sent for Jack to meet them in The Leaky Cauldron.

Keeping his son safe was his priority right now.

(Break)

Jack cursed under his breath and dragged his hand through his hair. He was getting nowhere with the case he was working on. There were too many missing pieces to form a clear picture of what had happened, let alone where the missing artefacts could be.

"Your father used to do that," Reg observed amusedly.

"My dad?"

Reg nodded.

"He'd mutter and play with his hair when he was planning an attack during the war," he explained. "Everyone likes to talk about the action, all of his deeds, but they don't know what it was like for him. He'd spend hours looking at maps, scouting in the most dangerous of places, when he wasn't sending me and Gilbert."

"I never thought of that," Jack murmured thoughtfully.

"No one ever does," Reg sighed. "It's easy to remember the crazy things he did, but not how much work he did to keep us all safe when we were away from the fighting."

"Did you see what happened with the dragon?"

Reg nodded soberly.

"I watched him outfly and kill the beast, but people forget that before that, he killed dozens of werewolves by himself, took down an erumpent, and even repelled a large gathering of dementors."

Jack snorted as he shook his head.

"I find all of that hard to believe. My dad is so docile."

"And you'd better hope there is never a reason to see the other side to him, Jack," Reg replied darkly. "Your dad is the kindest man I know, but also the most dangerous. I pity anyone who ends up on the wrong side of him."

"Is he that terrifying?"

"To his enemies, yes," Reg answered firmly, "but to those of us who fought alongside him, he was a saviour."

Jack had heard much about the war from several people, but his father never spoke of those years, and Reg rarely did either.

"I've seen some of what he can do with magic," he explained.

Reg chuckled as he shook his head.

"If you need to question what he is capable of or the kind of man he is below the surface, you've seen nothing boy," Reg countered. "Now, what's got you so rattled?"

Jack pointed at the pile of case notes he had been reading.

"So much is missing," he huffed. "I mentioned it to my dad, and he thinks there's more to it. He thinks Smith was murdered by someone else."

"Really?" Reg asked curiously. "What do you think?"

"I'm inclined to believe him. None of this makes sense."

"Evans!" a familiar voice barked.

A few seconds later, the duo were intruded upon by Barty Crouch who looked as pleased as ever.

The man never smiled, and always appeared as though he smelled something unpleasant.

"Yes, sir?" Jack returned, standing tall and towering over his superior.

"Have you made any progress?"

"Not yet, sir," Jack replied.

"Then get on with it, boy!" Crouch snapped. "The Smiths want their items back, and the more I have them in my office complaining, the more I'm coming for you. Get it done!"

With that, the man left, and Jack lifted two fingers in his direction.

"What a prick," he muttered. "Does he have it in for me?"

Reg laughed amusedly.

"Undoubtedly."

Jack frowned.

"What did I ever do to him?"

"Nothing," Reg assured him, "but he believes that your father is a dark wizard because he killed Grindelwald."

"My dad, a dark wizard?"

"Crouch isn't really wrong," Reg pointed out. "Your father isn't evil, but he is known for his ruthlessness and attitude towards killing when necessary. Crouch likes to think his own shit doesn't stink and judges everyone on his own morals. Funny that he didn't volunteer for the war."

"Well, I'm sick of him being on my case, the miserable bastard."

Reg patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't let Crouch get to you. He's only got the arse because he couldn't hope to compare to your father, let alone convict him of anything. I could imagine him trying to bring Harry in. It would take more than what we have to do it."

"You think my dad could take on the whole auror department?"

"Not in a straight fight, but your father is no fool. I can almost guarantee that he is prepared for just about any scenario."

"You make him sound paranoid."

Reg nodded.

"We spent years living in a place where we could be killed at any moment," he pointed out, "and your dad was in charge of our safety. He took that seriously, and many of us made it home because of his preparations. Don't you forget that."

"I won't," Jack assured the man.

Hearing the wartime experiences from someone who had been there was different from reading it in old newspaper articles that undoubtedly embellished what had happened.

"Bloody hell," Reg gasped as an ethereal dog appeared before them.

'Jack, I need you to meet me in The Leaky Cauldron as soon as you can. I have some things to share with you. Speak with no one else on the matter.'

The enormous dog faded, and Jack turned to look at Reg who had paled.

"Every time I see that, it brings back the memories," the man murmured.

"The dog?"

Reg snorted as he shook his head.

"That's no dog, Jack. That's a Grim, an embodiment of death."

"Come off it, you can't be serious?"

Reg was, and once more, Jack found himself wondering about the kind of man his father was to his enemies.

"Best not keep him waiting," Reg suggested. "He wouldn't ask you to meet him immediately if it wasn't urgent."

Jack nodded and packed away his files before pocketing them.

"Are you coming?"

Reg shook his head.

"I have my own things to work on. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks, Reg," Jack replied sincerely before taking his leave of the auror office, pondering just what it was his father had discovered in such a short amount time since they'd spoken the night before.

(Break)

Harry had barely touched his food and pushed it around his plate with a fork as he lost himself in thought of what he had just learned.

Minerva had noticed immediately that something was on his mind, but it was not something to be discussed with the others in their company.

As much as he tried to convince himself that the vague connection Tom had to Smith was just that, Harry knew better than to think such a foolish thing.

It had been decades since Voldemort had been an immediate threat, but Harry had learned long ago how dangerous the Dark Lord was.

To him, it would always be something he could never forget.

His parents, Cedric, Sirius…

They had all paid the ultimate price.

No matter how seemingly distant Voldemort was connected to something, Harry could think of no time that he hadn't been.

He could already feel that this was no different, and though he had been preparing for this for as long as he cared to remember, Harry couldn't help but realise he'd never had so much to lose to the man.

He shook his head, his grip tightening around the handle of his fork as though it was Tom Riddle's neck.

No, he would not lose another thing to the man.

It would be Harry who would haunt Voldemort, it would be his foe that lived in fear of a more dangerous man coming for him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of Jack who appeared to want to ask him something, but seeing Harry's stony expression, he thought better of it.

With little more than a nod, Jack followed him to a table in the corner, and Harry cast a plethora of privacy charms.

"That serious?" Jack chuckled.

Harry nodded darkly.

"As serious as it can be," he whispered.

Jack frowned at his father, his demeanour sobering him immediately.

"What's happened?"

Harry deflated and dragged a hand through his hair.

"I'm almost certain of what happened to Smith, but I need to confirm a few things first," he explained. "You know I would never interfere in your work without reason, but I need you to do something for me."

"Of course," Jack answered immediately.

"Stay away from this case, Jack," Harry urged. "I will explain everything I can when I know for certain, but this is more dangerous than you can imagine."

"What's going on, dad?"

Harry released a deep breath.

"Do you remember what happened to Professor Dippet?"

Jack nodded.

"He was murdered by a seventh-year, him and a student."

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Tom Riddle is still wanted for those murders, and many others on the continent. I am certain he is behind what happened to Smith."

Jack's eyes widened almost excitedly.

"If I was to catch him…"

"No!" Harry said firmly. "You are to stay away from him, Jack. He is as dangerous as they come, do you understand?"

"Dad, I'm a fully trained auror," Jack snorted.

"And he would tear you limb from limb," Harry replied darkly. "Jack, I'm asking you to trust me on this. Let me handle this case for you."

Jack looked Harry in the eye and nodded his understanding.

"Alright, dad, I know you wouldn't ask it of me if it wasn't important, but what about you? If he is so dangerous, shouldn't you stay away?"

Harry reached across and grabbed his son by the shoulder.

"I am more dangerous than Tom Riddle could ever imagine," he said solemnly. "Trust me, Jack, this will be bigger than you can imagine. Riddle is not the only problem that is coming. I will do all I can to stop him, and you will need to be ready for the rest."

"The rest of what?"

"War, probably," Harry shrugged. "That will happen if I don't stop him soon enough."

"Bloody hell, you're serious."

Harry nodded.

"Deadly," he confirmed. "When you finish your shifts from now on, I want you at home with me. I need to ensure you are safe and can handle yourself."

"I can handle myself."

"You need to be better, Jack, better than anyone else. I will make that happen. Tell Reg too, I want you both there."

Jack nodded as he stood.

"What about Crouch?"

"Tell him to piss off for all I care," Harry huffed. "I will speak with him when the time is right. For now, I need to speak to the elf and check on a few other things. Let whoever is in charge of the department know I'll be there in an hour or so."

"I will," Jack assured him. "I'll speak to Reg. Should I keep all of this to myself?"

Harry nodded.

"It is important that you do. Speak with no one other than Reg, not another soul."

"I won't let you down, dad," Jack vowed before taking his leave from the pub.

Harry returned to his table where the others were finishing up their meals.

"Something wrong, Evans?" Cygnus asked concernedly.

"Just some family business," Harry replied dismissively. "You know how it is."

Cygnus chuckled as he nodded.

"That I do," he concurred. "Anyway, we'd best be heading home. Will you be at King's Cross in the morning?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Harry ensured the man before giving Bellatrix a tight hug.

He would need to protect her from Voldemort.

The girl gave him a wave as she left with her parents, and Harry turned towards Minerva.

"I need to go to the Ministry," he explained. "The thing that I knew would happen is very much on our doorstep."

Minerva looked confused for a moment, but she paled when the realisation hit her.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded.

"Almost certainly. I will know by the end of the day."

Minerva swallowed deeply and nodded.

"We knew this day would come," she sighed. "Just be careful, you stupid man."

Harry offered her a grin.

"Save that advice for him," he murmured as he too left the pub and apparated to Little Hangelton.

He wanted to check on Morfin Gaunt to see if Tom had attempted to pay his uncle a visit.

As Harry walked the country lane from the village, he could feel that his magic around the property was still intact, so Tom hadn't managed to breach his defences.

Still, the shack did not look to be in liveable condition, and as he fought his way through the thick, overgrown foliage, a familiar smell wafted towards him.

Death and decay.

Harry knew the scent well.

Any bodies that were left in the sun on the battlefield would quickly begin to rot as the flies, maggots and crows feasted upon the corpses.

Pushing open the door of the mostly collapsed building, the source of the smell made itself known to him.

In the middle of the living area was what remained of Morfin Gaunt, little more than a pile of flesh and bone that the rats had helped themselves to.

Surrounding him was several bodies of snakes that had evidently stayed loyal to his decomposing form until the very end.

Harry quickly deduced that there was no sign of foul play, and that the man had likely died due to his own neglect towards his health. The presence of the ring he had transfigured so many years prior only attested to his notion further.

Releasing a deep breath, he set to work and created a coffin to place the man in.

The Gaunts had deteriorated to little more than an inbred branch of a once great family, and Harry would afford the man an honourable burial befitting the line he had descended from.

When the box was sealed, he levitated it into the garden and cleared an area below a willow a short distance from the house where he dug a suitable hole.

Placing it within, he added a headstone before returning the soil he'd removed.

"Would your sister have done what she had if she knew what a monster her son would become?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Harry engraved a message into the stone so that when his magic one day faded, the world would know what became of Morfin Gaunt.

Here Lies Morfin Gaunt, As Proud of his Heritage as any and the Rightful Heir of Slytherin

With the finishing touches added, there was only one other place Harry needed to visit to confirm what he strongly suspected to be true.

Taking a final look around of what remained of the Gaunt legacy, he disapparated, returning to London where he had need of an elf's assistance, and not for the first time in his life.

(Break)

Lord Voldemort looked upon the circle of men seated around the table in Lestrange Manor and held up a hand to silence them. For years, decades, he had been waiting for this moment.

Through the connections he had maintained with Rosier, Nott, and Mulciber, he had managed to win others over to his cause, prominent men and women who had come to see the direction that wizarding Britain was heading in.

His task had not been easy but having sown the seeds of discontent amongst those he had gone to school with, reiterating the point with them had not been difficult.

Convincing the others had been more challenging, but they had come to see things his way in the end, and others would soon follow.

"May I assume that you are all familiar with one another?" he asked.

"Of course, we are," Lord Lestrange huffed.

He had been the most stubborn amongst them, but Vinda had done a masterful job with the man.

"Then there is no need for introductions," Lord Voldemort said with a smile. "You know why we are here. Wizarding Britain is on the decline, the traditions our ancestors implemented are under threat."

Lestrange snorted.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember Voldemort being a known British family," he pointed out.

The Dark Lord nodded his understanding and hissed loudly, eliciting a shudder from many of those gathered.

A large serpent slithered from within his sleeves and coiled itself around his neck.

"Does that answer just who I am?" he asked.

Lestrange swallowed deeply and nodded.

"I am the heir of Slytherin himself."

"Are you?" Nott questioned curiously. "I was under the impression that Evans was also a parselmouth. You have shown me nothing new."

Lord Voldemort felt his blood boil at the mention of his foe.

"Evans is a usurper that somehow stole the magic he uses," he snapped. "The man will die for his transgressions against my family."

Nott openly laughed.

"You believe that you can kill him?" he questioned amusedly. "The man is extraordinary."

"And I am more so," Voldemort counted. "I have gone further than any to ensure that I cannot be defeated, that death will never come for me. When we right the wrongs of society, it will be us that will sit atop the mountain, crushing those below us with our might."

"We already are at the top of the mountain," Nott argued.

"But for how long?" Voldemort returned. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would urge you to take a look around at what Britain has become. The mudbloods and filth laugh at you, take the positions that are rightfully yours in the Ministry, and outnumber us so many times over that you will be unable to calculate just how vulnerable you are. Pureblood births are decreasing, and some are even allowing the filth to sully their blood. If nothing is done, it will only be a few generations that your own lines will either cease to exist or will be headed by mudbloods."

"Over my dead body!" Nott growled.

"That is the spirit, Nott," Voldemort responded. "It is up to us to ensure that doesn't happen. It is time to trim the fat, to thin the herd of those that would threaten our way of life. What say you? Are you willing to allow this downfall to continue, or do you wish to be among those that stands up and be counted, those that your own descendants will remember for stepping up when it was needed? Or will you cower in your estates and watch as the world around you changes, as your names come to mean nothing until they are nothing but a footnote in the annals of history?"

Silence met his words, and the Dark Lord stood tall.

"The time for action is coming," he said passionately. "Follow me and I will ensure that our traditions are upheld, that your lines will continue for generations to come. Fear not our enemies, for I promise they wall fall when faced with our superiority. So, what say you, Nott?"

The man stood and nodded.

"I'm with you," he declared.

"Lestrange?"

"Me too."

"Mulciber? Rosier?"

Both men nodded.

"Where do we begin?" Nott asked.

"My work began decades ago," Voldemort replied. "Patience is the key to success, and success will come for us, I give you my word. For now, prepare yourselves. The day will come sooner than you think that I will call upon you."

With that, the Dark Lord swept from the room and grinned to himself.

The purebloods were a prideful bunch and easily manipulated, but they would serve their purpose and bring others into the fold.

Soon, wizarding Britain would experience a hell that their worst nightmares could not even conjure.

A curtain of fear would soon close around them, and the country would collapse in the darkness that the Dark Lord would bring.

(Break)

"I don't know what you hope to achieve by speaking to an elf, Baron Evans," Edwin Daniels, the Head of the Department for Control of Magical Creatures sighed as he led Harry towards the cage the creature was being kept in.

"Many things can be achieved," Harry said dismissively, frowning as he spotted Hokey curled up in the far corner, trembling. "Hokey?" he asked gently.

The elf looked up at him in fear, her eyes glassy as she continued to shake.

"Let me speak to her alone," he requested.

Daniels nodded.

"Crouch won't like it."

"Crouch can kiss my arse," Harry bit back. "Has a Legilimens been to see her?"

Daniels shook his head.

"Barty would never allow it. The Mind Arts are Dark Arts as far as he is concerned."

"The man is an idiot," Harry huffed.

Daniels snorted and left him alone with Hokey who stared at him.

Harry opened the cage with a tap of his wand and entered.

Kneeling next to the elf, he offered her a reassuring smile.

"Hokey, I'm trying to figure out what happened to Hepzibah Smith."

"Hokey Killed her!" the elf sobbed.

Harry shushed the creature and placed a hand over hers to prevent her from hitting herself.

"I don't believe that," Harry said calmly. "I think someone else did it and made you believe you did. Will you let me help you?"

The elf choked and continued to cry, so Harry gave her some time to calm herself.

When she had managed to regain some composure, Harry sat.

"Let me help you," he pressed gently. "I know you didn't harm your mistress."

"Hokey didn't?" the elf asked hopefully.

"No, you didn't," Harry said a little more firmly. "I believe a very nasty man killed Miss Smith and has tricked you."

"A nasty man?" Hokey whispered.

Harry nodded.

"Do you know a man named Tom Riddle?"

The elf's eyes widened in fear once more and she began to struggle.

Harry held onto her tightly.

"Hokey, I need you to look at me," he instructed. "I can help you, but I need you to let me."

It took a few moments for her to relent, and she sobbed, her eyes pleading with him to do so.

"I'm going to take a look in your mind," he explained. "Please don't fight, I imagine it will be unpleasant for us both."

Hokey eyed him questioningly, and eventually nodded.

With little more than a whisper, Harry slipped into the elf's consciousness, the magic of the creature overwhelming his own senses.

It took a minute or so to become accustomed to the foreign mind, but when he felt settled, Harry began to probe gently through her memories until he reached the ones pertaining to a young Voldemort, though one had been locked away, so deeply that Hokey would not be able to find without assistance.

Harry wondered why Tom hadn't simply removed the memory and realised that doing so would have only raised suspicion.

Using Hokey as his scapegoat, none would question what had happened, but Tom evidently had no knowledge on elves and the bond they shared with their master.

Hokey could never have harmed Hepzibah, though how Crouch hadn't come to the same conclusion was baffling to Harry.

Carefully, he unlocked the memory and retreated from the elf's mind as a plethora of emotions erupted from within her.

Hokey was wailing in despair when Harry managed to gather himself, and though he wished to help her, the elf needed to grieve and come to terms with what had really happened.

"He is a bad man!" she whimpered.

Harry nodded his agreement, his jaw clenching as an unwelcome voice intruded upon them.

"What the hell is going on here?" Crouch demanded to know.

Daniels, who had arrived with him offered Harry an apologetic look.

"I'm solving your case for you," Harry returned evenly. "Hokey is innocent, something you would have figured out for yourself if you weren't such a moron."

Crouch purpled with rage, but as Harry stood and met his gaze, he flinched, remembering just who it was before him.

"You have no right to interfere," Crouch growled.

"And you have a responsibility to ensure that justice is upheld," Harry returned heatedly. "Your view on magic has failed Hokey, and because of that, Hepzibah Smith's killer has been allowed to roam free."

"The elf killed her!" Crouch snapped. "She admitted it."

"Because she was tricked into doing so," Harry growled irritably. "You own an elf, don't you?"

Crouch nodded, his moustache twitching in irritation.

"Would yours ever harm you?"

"Absolutely not!" Crouch denied. "Winky has been perfectly trained."

"As Hokey has been," Harry pointed out. "Look at how distraught she is at the death of her mistress. Hokey couldn't have harmed her even if she wished to, just as your own elf couldn't harm you. One set of rules doesn't apply to you and yours, Crouch."

The man released a deep breath, his cheeks reddening.

"So, you know who killed her?"

Harry nodded.

"His name is Tom Riddle; you may be familiar."

Crouch frowned thoughtfully.

"The kid that killed Dippet?"

"No longer a child," Harry pointed out. "He made the acquaintance of Miss Smith many years ago, and she showed him the artefacts that are missing."

Hokey nodded along, her ears flapping almost comically.

"He was a bad boy!"

Crouch deflated.

"Riddle has been wanted for decades," he sighed. "How can we find him after all this time?"

"You won't," Harry answered simply, "but he will find us when he is ready."

Crouch frowned confusedly, but Harry cut him off before he could question him further.

"What will happen to Hokey?"

Crouch shrugged.

"The Department will decide, I suppose," he declared, looking towards Daniels who nodded.

"We will look to find her another home. For now, she will be kept here."

Harry shook his head.

"I will take her," he decided. "I have one elf, and a large house. If she wishes to come, she will have lots of work and be kept safe. Would you like that Hokey?"

"Mistress Smith…" she whimpered.

"Is not here, but she would want you to be taken care of," Harry explained gently. "From what I saw, she loved you, Hokey, and would not wish for you to punish yourself for the actions of someone else. Come with me and I promise that Tom Riddle will pay for what he has done to you and Mistress Smith."

Hokey looked unsure, so Harry decided to compromise.

"If you don't wish to stay with me and my family forever, you don't have to, but at least come until you feel better and are ready to serve someone else. It is better than being kept in a cage here."

Hokey looked around the cage and shivered.

"Hokey will come," she agreed.

"Problem solved," Daniels chuckled.

Crouch merely muttered under his breath and left the room and Harry eyed the man in irritation.

He was a competent head of department for the most part, but he was still a stubborn fool who wouldn't change his ways.

"Come on, Hokey," Harry urged offering his hand. "Shall we find somewhere for you to get some rest?"

The elf nodded gratefully, tentatively taking the proffered limb, and Harry shot Daniels an appreciative nod before he apparated himself and Hokey away.