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A Strange Old World Ch.11
🕑 Added 2022-02-06 17:17:55 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 11- An eventful start
AN: A special thanks to Lord Shiva who'd offered to Beta this chapter, saving my ass at the very last moment.
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Dartmoor was a bountiful piece of land. The open grasslands extended to an extremely vast horizon, housing not just an entire Quidditch stadium, but also providing more than ample space for over a hundred thousand wizards and witches.
These numbers obviously included supernatural beings from all over the world, and while the crowd was most likely the largest to ever gather this time, the place was still able to accommodate all of them.
Of course, it was no surprise that such a massive crowd would need a strict but flexible system to keep them under control. And to complete this demand, the British government had divided these bountiful lands into 7 different levels according to their value, assigning specific areas to people of equal level.
The forces that other countries had sent to help England were all given Lvl 7 lands directly behind the stadium, which meant that they all had the very best view over the entire region, while also being closest to the stadium.
They all shared the same hill as the most important magical families of Britain, the difference being they were behind the stadium, while those families had their tents made in the front.
The Brazilian guard squad was an exception to this, to the initial displeasure of one, Asmodeus Abernathy. They were given a Lvl 5 piece of land, placing them upon a lower hill than the rest of their compatriots, away from the stadium. Worse, they were given a specific position, where the Dartmoor forest cut into their piece of land. So they were literally tucked away in their own corner of the world, likely hoping to be forgotten completely.
At normal times, this would've been taken as a grave insult by their mother country, and even the forces from other countries would've frowned at the hosts for displaying such behavior.
But these were not normal times. Grindelwald's recent domination of the American subcontinent has made everyone wary and doubtful towards wizards from any country belonging to the said continent. And Brazil was no exception.
All the British minister had to do was issue an official statement, citing the need for such harsh actions while giving a half-assed apology, and Abernathy was unable to do anything.
Though as a point to them, their suspicions were quite well-founded. After all, the entire Brazilian squad was made up of members of Alliance, all loyal to Grindelwald.
But that had done nothing for the very much pissed off Abernathy's growing irritation with the country.
The loyal acolyte of Grindelwald had to admit, the British minister was quite competent. Not only was she a terrific dueler, but she was also immune to most coercion techniques that the Alliance utilized.
On top of that, the British Ministry was filled with Uber powerful and genius wizards. It had barely been a month since Abernathy's arrival in England, and yet he'd already met well over 6 magicals who could not only hold their own against him but may even be able to get an upper hand.
This had come as a shock to Abernathy, considering he was amongst the very best Alliance had to offer. He could understand now, why his Lord decided to cut his losses and leave the country when his heir fell to The-Boy-Who-Lived.
While Abernathy had complete faith in his Lord's might, the British wizards were just a different breed in power and competence and demanded suitable caution. It made him wonder if their pureblood-supremacy mindset might actually have some merits to consider.
Still, while the English ministry may have made Abernathy's life a little difficult, he was more than pleased with the final outcome.
After all, he'd been able to transform their misfortune into a blessing, making use of their lonely piece of land for their own purposes. They now held most of their covert meetings in the secrecy of their tent, and even Black found it infinitely easier to sneak inside the camp now.
As evidenced by the fact that Abernathy could see him currently sitting right in front of him as soon as he walked inside their shared tent.
"Ah, the man, the myth, the legend is here!...finally found some time some for this poor old mutt, did you?" Black barked out, a glass of English whiskey clutched loosely in his hand.
Abernathy scowled. Just because he was happy the man could now approach them safely did not mean Abernathy liked the obnoxious man.
With a forceful wave of his wand, he vanished the glass from Black's hand, growling slightly. "Didn't I tell you not to drink that here, Black?"
To Abernathy's further displeasure, the mad man started licking his paw, wiping clean the few drops that he'd spilled when welcoming him. "Must've forgotten."
Abernathy sneered in contempt. "Azkaban addled your mind that much?"
Sirius Black simply gave him a toothy snort. "I don't know mate, but you're free to find out."
"Nevermind that." Abernathy dismissed, moving to take a seat opposite Black. "Is your Lord ready?"
Apart from the two men, the tent was mostly empty. The rest of Abernathy's team were out on the field, moderating the crowd whilst being stuck under the watchful eyes of English Aurors.
"Of course he is. Today's the day, and nothing had better go wrong. Your band of merry arsekissers will need to be prepared with the Potter brats. The ritual will start as soon as the match finishes."
"Don't concern yourself with us." Abernathy stood up, done with the infuriating dog. "Just pray your Lord knows what he's doing. We can only give you 15 minutes at most. Voldemort better be strong enough to take care of the Aurors. Cause if he's not? We all will be run down and killed before you could plead for Azkaban."
Black barked out a mocking laugh. "Take care of the Aurors? Mate, once the Dark Lord takes his true form again, nothing could hope to match him. Nothing!"
"The times to cower and hide in shadows are now over. Lord Voldemort's return will wash the world anew. And no one better stand in our way then….unless they wish to be crushed underneath our feet!"
Had there been anyone else inside the wards of the Brazilian tent, they would've heard a mad cackling loudly ringing through the lands. A laugh so dark that it would've surely chilled their hearts to a shiver.
Some may have taken it as a sign for the dark times ahead, while the others may think of it as an omen of death and destruction….
But all would've agreed.…it promised nothing good or light.
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Fleur
Dark clouds suddenly appeared overhead, covering the bright sun that had just been present a minute ago.
'Does England never get a straight day of sunlight?' Fleur frowned, bewildered at the treacherous English weather.
She and her family had arrived in the country barely a few hours ago, having to manually set up their tent on one of the Lvl 2 grounds that were still available for the tourists.
Every other place was completely packed in, and even the piece of land that they got was due to the courtesy of one Mrs. Hechman, who was apologetic for her Husband's disrespectful rowdy comments.
Currently, she was making her way through the maze of tents that littered the whole ground, trying to reach those massive hills where Harry had said his family would be residing. The hill was closest to the stadium and was supposed to be a Level 7 land.
Now, why exactly was she manually making her way through a crowd when she could've just asked Harry to meet up with her? She couldn't rightly guess.
All she knew was her stomach was being attacked by an army of angry butterflies and her heart was kicking her from the inside of her chest, trying to burst out...
'...Alright yes, I'm nervous.' Fleur admitted to herself, absently rejecting a man getting down on his knees to propose to her in the middle of the crowd.
He seemed not at all concerned about the battalion of other angry men who gave him the stink eye of jealously and righteous anger.
But Fleur paid them no mind. It was a common sight for her, having to suffer the ministrations of spell-bound men all her life, even when she kept her Veela aura tightly bound like a ball.
This had become particularly bothersome since her 17th birthday when her body and magic had experienced some major growth.
But Fleur simply learned to ignore it, knowing it to just be another curse of her heritage.
The reason for her current nervousness, however, came from none other than Harry Potter.
In his last letter, the boy had agreed to meet with her today, exchanging addresses and suggesting some plans.
But Fleur had held back, her mother's warning stark in her mind. Even though it caused her genuine pain to do so, she'd started creating some distance between them.
But now the fateful day was here, and there was no delaying it. Today will give her all the answers to questions that she'd been losing sleep over for the past few weeks.
Unfortunately, she will first have to find Harry Potter for that.
And it wouldn't be easy, that was for sure.
The land she was traversing currently was like an archery target board. The Stadium was their bullseye, while the level 7 lands surrounding it were its rings. Level 7 was the closest to the bullseye but was also the smallest area in terms of space. Yet, it was also the freest and most luxurious, with only 5 families occupying it.
Each subsequent level after that grew in space, but was also more cramped up with tents, with the last two levels being so overcrowded that even the paths were hidden under tent flaps, forcing Fleur to carefully make her way across.
Then there was the security check. Each circle of land was constantly guarded by Aurors from different countries. Anyone who wanted to travel to higher levels needed to go through a full-body security check. Moreover, no one without permission could even travel to Levels 6 and 7.
Though there were... exceptions. Unconventional ways to get past these Aurors...and Fleur wasn't above using them.
She quickly skipped through the throngs of people, gliding past tents and their numerous applications, which included large bonfires with heavy metal pots on them, rope lines with wet clothes drying on them, massive posters of quidditch players that hindered everyone's visions, and just other generally chaotic things that her eyes and ears did not appreciate, but could do nothing about.
Even through all this craziness, she couldn't quite keep a small profile, becoming a target for many drooling faces, catcalls, and desperate love confessions.
But this time, it worked out in her favor. Just a simple flex of her Veela charm, and the Auror on duty at Lvl 6 entrance suddenly sported glazed eyes and a loopy smile. Fleur gave him her extra-sugary smile, slowly slipping away to the next level.
Unfortunately, she was soon harassed by another love confession, this time coming from a tall redheaded man, with hairs tied in a long ponytail and a fanged earring dangling loosely. There was also a pink-haired beauty hanging off of his arms but he seemed to have eyes only for Fleur.
He swaggered towards her, much to the confusion and growing irritation of the girl, eyes glazed with awe and excitement.
"Bill, What are you doi–" The girl started, only to be cut off as her partner snatched his arm away from her.
"Why, hello there, beautiful lady!" He exclaimed exuberantly, gracefully taking a knee in front of Fleur. "My name is William Weasley, though my friends call me Bill. May I have the name of your majesty?"
He gave a wide smile, trying to take her arms and kiss them, like some knight in shining armor.
With a grimace, Fleur smacked away the man's hand, stepping back.
He wasn't the worst, as far as being affected by her magical charms went, and actually looked to have some faculties of his mind. But it was still a pain to deal with.
"Bill, you bastard." A weak shaky voice cursed from the side, and Fleur turned to take in the sight of the pink-haired woman glaring down at the man at Fleur's feet with tears in her eyes.
'Oh shit.' Fleur winced as the woman marched forward, her hair shifting colors to a darker shade.
The voice seemed to have finally sparked something in the redhead and he slowly stood back on his feet in confusion, quickly realizing how much he had fucked up.
"Dora, it's not what it looks li–" He received no chance to complete his sentence as the witch slapped the man with the full force of her rage.
"Do not say that name with your mouth ever again, William Weasley!"
'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, indeed.' Fleur sighed as the girl whirled around after a challenging glance at her, leaving behind the devastated young man.
And devastated the man surely was, as he tiredly rubbed his forehead. He also seemed to realize exactly what he'd been doing here moments before the slap of doom fell upon her.
He turned to Fleur then, apologetic and ashamed. "Look miss, I'm sorry for that earlier. I don't know what came over me..."
Fleur waved him off, her feet backtracking back to her tent, suddenly feeling small.
"Ma'am, please! Listen, I'm sorry alright? Look–" The guy called out to her but she was no longer listening.
She knew she shouldn't feel anything about this, but the slightest of guilt couldn't help but worm in.
'Yep, that's me. Fleur Delacour, breaker of lovers and ruiner of relationships.' Her mind couldn't help but mock ruefully.
This wasn't the first time her presence had put cracks in someone's relationship, and it probably won't be the last. Another reason why she was so utterly friendless even with all her fame. It was exactly due to how much her first few friends had suffered from this.
It made her rethink about her plans with Harry entirely.
'What if the boy also had a girlfriend?' The thought brought a painful chill to her chest as if a dark shadow had suddenly clutched upon her heart, trying to squeeze it close.
Fleur ignored the feeling, though her mind continued the depressing line of thought.
What if he couldn't resist her charms like he did the last time? What if his girlfriend caught him doing something sweet for Fleur? Would she destroy another relationship?
Would she destroy the love life of her one and only friend?
Fleur sighed, trying to dismiss the cowardly thoughts.
She should really stop letting such small things ruin her entire day.
Why did her mind always imagine the worst possible outcome? Harry was able to resist her charms once before, there was no reason for him to suddenly start drooling all over her...
'Though it wouldn't be too bad if that happened...'
Or, Harry might not have a girlfriend in the first place!
'Yes, that was even better.'
Whatever the case, the fact remained; Fleur must talk to her friend one way or the other, and shed some light upon the mysteries of her heart.
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Harry
Harry had always considered himself to be a pretty reasonable guy.
"P-Potter! S-stop this…"
He didn't pick fights unless the other guy instigates it, he didn't make absurd demands or compensations, he didn't hold grudges for too long if the issue is minor….
"Arghh! You will pay for this, Potter!"
But like any hotheaded guy, he'll become a ball of explosion when his temper finally snaps.
"My father will hear about th-!...Why, You halfblooded freak…!"
And he wouldn't stop until his temper finally abates.
"S-stop Potter…"
Especially if the anger was old, and bundled in a cold rage, raw and malicious.
"Pl-please….Pott- Harry..Stop…"
The evidence was right here in his presence, as he pushed the struggling Malfoy down before once again burying his fist in the younger boy's stomach, making him hunch over.
The boy hurled down his breakfast, puking his guts out in the woods of Dartmoor.
They weren't that far away from the crowd really, around just 100 meters or so from the Level 1 tents that bordered the entire settlement area. But the woods provided just enough cover that the screams wouldn't echo around, and no unsuspecting eye would find them.
"You know, Draco…" Harry started, before leaning down to stare at the boy with mock curiosity. "Can I call you Draco? Or do I need to pay some special fees to say your most gracious name with my half-blood mouth? Hmm?"
Malfoy didn't reply, his shoulders heaving in dry sobs as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His entire body was shaking and shivering, his pale face may as well have belonged to a ghost. Tears and snot ran down his face, mixing in with sweat and supplying their own disgusting sheen to make the boy look extra pathetic.
Harry didn't care, his sympathy had long since dried up. His boot came down hard to step upon the boy's palm, crushing it underneath and eliciting a gasped yell. "I can call you Draco, right Draco?"
The boy half-whimpered and half-sobbed, giving frantic nods. "…Please."
He shook his trapped hand desperately. "L-let me go...Please…Please, Harry."
"Hmm…" Harry mused 'seriously', before applying even more pressure on the boy's broken fingers, getting a full-blown scream this time. "I don't think I will."
There were four more bodies beside Malfoy. 2 of them were in a much better condition, having simply been knocked out. The other two, however, were in an even worse condition than Draco, with trails of blood dripping down from their broken noses and teeth.
Unlike Draco however, they weren't crying.
Harry snorted, finally removing his boot from the boy's ruined palm.
At once the boy dragged his hand back to his chest, heaving deep breaths of pained relief.
Harry leaned down, taking a knee beside the boy. "See Draco, when I got that letter, calling me for a private Slytherin get-together, I knew something was up from the start. The boy who'd spent the last three years trying to brainwash my…hmm…foolish self, shall I say?"
With almost tender care, Harry took ahold of the bleeding boy's blonde hair and dragged his face up, making their eyes meet. "That boy would never send me a bloody invitation, especially not one so…sweetly and polite. But I still came, see? I still came. Cause I was curious. Curious to see what you'll do…"
There was genuine fear and helplessness in the boy's eyes now. The same eyes that had once looked down on him, even more so in this life, were now empty of any pride or arrogance.
The eyes were windows to the soul. The saying becomes quite literal when the said eyes are viewed by a Lvl 3 Legilimence like Harry…..and right now, Malfoy's eyes represented the boy's true personality: Cowardly and fearful.
With a contemptuous snort, Harry dropped down the head, standing up. "What I didn't expect was to find a tortured Blaise begging me for help."
A sudden bout of anger was birthed in his mind, and like he'd been doing so the whole day, he let it fill him with no resistance from his Occlumency shields.
The result was another vicious kick to Malfoy's stomach, making him curl up around his leg with a pained sob and whimper. "Please…..I'm s-sorry..".
Harry chuckled. "Of course you are."
Who wouldn't be? After getting beat up by a magically strengthened opponent. His beatings would never have the same intensity before the rituals.
Idly, Harry did realize that he was taking the anger of someone else upon a mostly innocent boy. After all, this wasn't the Malfoy who'd killed Hagrid. That Malfoy had paid the price for his crime years ago.
Yet, Harry couldn't care less. His anger wasn't dark or undeserving…after all, Blaise was still his friend, no matter what misgivings Harry might have had about the boy. To see his tortured and bleeding form had struck a sore spot in Harry, releasing the wild beast that he'd become in the last few months of his previous life.
The merge may have healed the more obvious wounds on his mind, but his hatred and rage were still ripe as ever. This new life, and the people around him, had simply pushed it back.
Till now.
His eyes idly went through the woods, taking in the trees with unexplainable feelings. This was the same forest where the snatchers had kidnapped him and his friends so long ago. They'd been so innocent then, thinking they'd seen the worst this world could throw at them.
Suffice it to say, they'd been proven wrong quite thoroughly.
Harry sighed, really not having expected the day to proceed like such. It had started normal enough really, with him and Bella leaving for Potter tent early in the morning. He'd gotten his first view of the enormous tent then, a gigantic thing able to house 3 different families together.
The day, however, took an unusual turn with the arrival of Malfoy's letter, politely asking him to join him in one of the shadier parts of Dartmoor forest. He'd been amused really, at how stupidly non-subtle the letter was. And all he had intended then was to teach the precocious brat and his little guards a small lesson at humility, while having some fun in the process.
That plan had gone out the window, however, the moment he'd reached the place.
Malfoy and his ilk were there to welcome him of course, along with Greengrass, Davis, Bulstrode, Blaise,…and Carrows.
Greengrass and her bestie were standing away from the others while the rest formed a semicircle around what seemed to be the main focus of their little circus: the bleeding and sobbing body of Blaise.
Apparently, Malfoy did not believe in Harry's rise to power and fame and wished to get the secrets of his success out of him. Blaise was the first to be questioned, and the boy's refusal to answer had led to a type of cruelty Harry would never expect from 14-year-olds.
The Malfoy of his world might've become a Deatheater eventually, but he was still very much a normal teenager at this age. And a normal teenager had no stomach for the type of things they'd done to Blaise.
So unless this Malfoy was some hidden psychopath (He wasn't, if Harry's memories were to be believed), he wasn't the one to do this. He knew all the others as well, and none of them seemed the type to torture.
That left the Carrows.
According to his memories, the Carrows were a very controversial topic in magical Britain. Born from the product of incest, they were said to be largely in the back of beyond,[1] not mixing with the rest of the sacred 28 families. While the purebloods were more accepting of them, there were of course still exceptions like Weasleys and Longbottoms.
To Harry, none of this mattered. Incest was the least weird thing he'd stumbled upon over the years.
But the Carrows themselves….now that was a different subject altogether.
Honestly, Harry could've stopped all this from escalating further. Could've easily Occluded away his rising fury, thinking through the situation logically. With his father, Mother, and Godmother so far up on the ladder of ministry, all he would've needed was enough evidence to convict Malfoy and his little band for some nice prison time. And Blaise would've worked splendidly.
But he hadn't. Why? Because he didn't want to.
The attendance of Carrows was the final spark in the embers of his rage. They may not be the ones to kill Ginny, but they were just as mad as their parents. And vengeance does not stop for logic.
Thus, Harry had let loose. Just a bit, of course. They were still children so nothing overly painful…
A multitude of low groans spread through the forest, all belonging to the broken bodies of his victims.
….Well, maybe a little painful.
"Uhmmm!" A low voice pitched from behind him, and he turned to see the bound-up form of Parkinson trying to struggle through her bonds. She was relatively unharmed, with a simple rope tying her wrists together and a spell sticking her lips up.
With a raised brow, Harry slowly ambled towards the girl. "Something to say, Parkinson?"
The girl stopped moving completely, freezing up like a deer in the headlights.
With a wave of his hand, her lips were unstuck. "Go on, then."
She looked a whole deal more uncertain now, her brows furrowing in a frown of trepidation.
She opened her mouth several times before finally finding her voice at another whimper from Draco.
"You should let them go." She spoke low and cautiously, her eyes darting around his body, trying and failing to look him in the eye. "The Aurors won't like this, Potter. You could go to Azkaban for this."
Harry snorted, an amused smirk spreading upon his face. "Do you honestly think that, Parkinson?"
He leaned down towards the girl. She tried scrambling back but his hand darted forward, digging into her scalp as he gripped a handful of her hair.
She shrieked, arcing her back painfully as he dragged her head beside him. "Look around you, you daft cow. All the damage I've done to you lot? There's not a drop of magic involved. Should you try to complain about me, people will simply laugh you off. 6 wizards getting beat up muggle style? You will be the biggest jokes in the school. And me? I'll get a slap on my wrist at worst."
He snorted again, letting go. "That's just wizards for you."
He restarted his stroll, his feet taking him to a tired Blaise.
Harry had done a good enough job of healing the more severe cuts and lacerations. He may not be Madam Pomfrey, but the Vulnera Sanentur spell that he'd copied from Snape could be used for more purposes than just Sectumsempra injuries.
Still, the boy surely had some internal bleeding remaining. Even though Harry used Anapneo on the boy to clear his cough, he still spat out globs of blood in coughing fits.
It shouldn't have done more than irritate Harry at seeing this really. While he felt a little bad for getting the boy caught up in his business, it wasn't anything really new or rage-inducing for Harry.
….Or well, it shouldn't have been.
But the sheer sight of the weak boy, huddling with his legs tucked under his chin as he shivered and panted, made Harry's blood boil in anger.
"Can you hold on for a few minutes, Blaise?" He asked, realizing he wasn't quite done with this lot.
The boy nodded, giving a weak smile. "Of course. And Harry….thanks."
He squeezed the boy's shoulder before moving towards Daphne.
"Harry." The girl greeted, trying to hide her nervousness behind a pretty smile. "I'm glad you're her- Uhm!?"
His fingers closed in on her jaw, digging tightly inside her cheeks. "Did you know?"
"Harry, what are you doing!?" Tracy screamed beside them. "She's Daphne, for Merlin's sake!"
Harry responded with an absent wave of his wand, rooting the girl in place and stopping her hands from touching the wand.
His eyes never left Daphne. "Answer me. Now."
"I didn't know, alright!?" She yelled, looking genuinely hurt and angry. "Malfoy wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone, to show you aren't anything special. So he dragged all of us with him. Your name has been circulating amongst the Princes, and he didn't like that. We had nothing to do with him. How could you even think that!?"
He stared into her blue eyes, silently using Occlumency to scan for any guilt or deception.
There wasn't any. She was clean.
But she also knew exactly what was about to happen today….and let it happen. It doesn't matter if it was willingly or unwillingly.
With a disgruntled huff, he let her go, turning away.
His furious eyes scanned through the fearful crowd as he marched to the middle of the circle to address all of them.
He spread his arms wide, presenting himself. "Look at me."
A wave of hesitance went through them all, none daring to glance up except Blaise.
His fists curled up in impatience, and he bellowed out with a snap to his command. "All of you, look at me!"
And they did. They scrambled upright fearfully then, even the Carrows.
"I rule Slytherin now, and you lot shall follow me, willingly or unwillingly." He declared slowly, daring them to voice any disagreements. None did. "If I must spend a whole bloody year in those dungeons, I shall have better companions than a bunch of cowardly backstabbing snakes, so from now on consider yourselves to be upstanding members of the society."
He could see Davis opening her mouth, displeased, but an elbow from Greengrass silenced her down.
"Forget about those princes and princesses… " He continued with a snarl, his words coming out in hisses as the Parseltongue mixed in.
"From now forth, you put your faith…" His hand curled up at himself as he hissed out. "In me."
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It was around afternoon when Harry arrived back to their tent, having escorted Blaise back to his Level 6 tent. On his way, he also tried to find Fleur, but unfortunately, he didn't know where to look. She'd been quite evasive for the last few days, and her letters had been a bit scarce.
More than once he found himself wondering if the girl was playing some stupid game with him. Everything he knew about her in this world was mostly through letters after all.
Who's to say she wasn't just trying to get back at him for her loss in the tournament by leading him around with some false offer at friendship?
That seemed unnaturally petty and immature, but as he'd realized, he had nothing to judge the girl aside from her letters.
Hell, she might not even be present here today for all he knew, making him waste his time needlessly.
Whatever the case, he held out a slight hope that his misgivings were wrong. While he didn't necessarily care for her games, it would've been good to have an actual friend.
When he reached the tent, Bella wasn't present, being busy handling things for the final match. Instead, he was greeted by his twin brother.
"Where were you?" Jacob asked, looking impatient and hurried. "Nevermind, do you know where Dora…eh, Nymphadora went? You were gone for too long so we sent Bill and her to find you. But they've had a sodding spat, and now no one can find Dora."
Harry yawned, stretching his body. "Where's Lily?"
"Why does that matt…you know what? Whatever. She's off to get Aunt Bella, it's almost lunchtime now and she wasn't answering mom's Patronus. Dad's doing some form filing to get a half-day today, and others are all busy and don't think it's anything serious. But they don't know her like I do. I've been trying to search for her but I….ahh…I haven't had much luck."
Harry sighed, turning around. "Fine. I'll do it myself."
"Be back before lunch or mom will be pissed!"
He waved his twin off, once again leaving the premises of their tent.
'What an eventful start for the day.' Harry mused, amused. "What are the chances that the rest will pass peacefully?"
Bloody none.
Still, he couldn't help his excitement.
'The day has just started. Whatever it may bring, it is sure to be eventful.'
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AN: Aaaaand finished! Next up will be the main course of the quidditch final.
Originally I'd meant to add another scene in, but my father's being a lil bitch and I just couldn't finish it. Plus this is already around 5.5k so I felt it was a good point to stop.
Now my biggest concern in this chapter is Harry. I had this scene in my mind even before I started writing this fic, and now that I finally gave words to it I couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Did Harry feel too OOC? Too dramatic? Or did it all feel natural?
Let me know what you thought about that scene down in the comments.
Also, join discord to discuss my fics, or ask me any questions you may have.
Discord: https://discord.gg/9wpfysDGsz
Well that's it for today. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll see you in the next post.
Have an awesome day/night!
Comments
Zod
Overly dramatic for a war veteran harry considering everything that had happened to him
person1357
A bit dramatic but not overly so
