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A Cynical Voice Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-03-22 08:54:27 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the third chapter of the week. The Death Eaters attack the campground and Harry races to save Pansy. I’m still thinking about a new title for the story.
Chapter 3
Harry watched the remaining spectators file into the Top Box. Hadrian stood behind him, occasionally pointing out faces in the crowd.
"Here comes the Malfoys," Hadrian said.
Sure enough, the blond family emerged into the Top Box, Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes sweeping the area with disdain. Behind them came the Parkinsons, with Pansy walking slightly behind her parents.
Harry watched her with newfound interest. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed things about her that had escaped him previously. Her expression seemed carefully arranged, a mask of haughty indifference that occasionally slipped when she thought no one was watching. There was a tension in her shoulders, a tightness around her eyes that spoke of something beyond the strain of maintaining appearances.
Draco draped his arm casually around Pansy's shoulders as they took their seats. Harry observed how she stiffened almost imperceptibly before relaxing. The discomfort was there for only a fraction of a second—so brief that Draco didn't notice—but Harry caught it.
Pansy turned her head, as if sensing his scrutiny, and their eyes met. Her expression shifted from surprise to wariness. Harry didn't look away.
"Potter's staring at you," Draco said, catching the exchange of glances. "Probably jealous he hasn't got a proper witch of his own. Hard to find anyone who'd want him, isn't it?"
Harry leaned forward. "It's just like your Quidditch position, Malfoy. You had to buy your way onto the team with those fancy brooms. How much did your father spend to acquire Pansy for you?"
Harry noticed Pansy's father turn sharply in his seat, shooting him a warning glare. Harry caught the man's eye and mouthed a quick apology, which caused a flicker of surprise to cross the older Parkinson's face.
Draco's pale cheeks flushed an angry pink. "Pansy knows a proper wizard when she sees one. She doesn't need to be paid."
"Interesting that you didn't deny the Quidditch accusation," Harry replied, causing Ron to snigger beside him. Hermione nudged him with her elbow, but he could see she was fighting a smile too.
Lucius Malfoy turned in his seat, his cold grey eyes narrowing as they fixed on Harry.
"You'd do well to mind your manners, Potter," he said, his voice pitched low enough that the Minister wouldn't overhear. "Not everyone is impressed by your celebrity status."
"Just as not everyone is impressed by bought influence either, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied, meeting the man's gaze steadily. "I'm sure there are people here who don't appreciate those who hide behind masks. Or the excuse of having a weak mind that can be easily influenced.”
"What are you doing?" Hadrian hissed from beside him. "This wasn't part of the plan."
Lucius’ knuckles whitened around the serpent-headed walking stick that Harry knew concealed his wand. For a moment, genuine hatred flashed across the man's aristocratic features before he masked it with a tight smile.
"Youth and ignorance often go hand in hand," Lucius said silkily. "You'll learn the value of discretion, eventually. Perhaps the hard way."
The threat hung in the air between them, but with Minister Fudge chatting merely seats away, Lucius couldn't risk saying more. As the Malfoys turned back toward the pitch, Harry caught Pansy hiding a smirk behind her hand. Their eyes met briefly, and something like appreciation flickered across her face before her mask of indifference slid back into place.
Harry settled back in his seat, feeling a rush of satisfaction. This was payback for the diary that had nearly killed Ginny, for the basilisk that had petrified his friends, and for the attempt on his own life at the end of his second year when Lucius had nearly cursed him in the corridor.
But his words weren't solely meant for Lucius. Harry knew Barty Crouch Jr was present, hidden under an invisibility cloak, listening to every exchange. Unlike Lucius, who had abandoned Voldemort after his fall, Barty was fanatically loyal to his master. He wouldn't appreciate hearing about Lucius claiming to be under the Imperius Curse to escape punishment. The little exchange may provide some benefits for the future.
Hadrian studied him with an unreadable expression. "You're adapting faster than I expected. Just be careful."
The teams burst onto the field in explosions of green and red, and the crowd erupted. Harry cheered with everyone else, but his excitement was tempered by the knowledge of what would follow these celebrations.
Fred and George came over to speak to him.
"Made our bet," Fred whispered, leaning close. "The goblins gave us excellent odds."
"Ireland to win but Krum gets the Snitch," George added with a grin. "They think we're mad."
"You'll be rich tomorrow," Harry murmured back.
“How can you be sure?” George asked.
Harry adopted Professor Trelawney's misty, ethereal voice. "The Inner Eye does not require certainty, my dear. It simply knows."
George grinned. “Good enough for me.”
"Already counting the Galleons," Fred replied with a wink before they returned to their seats.
Harry turned his attention back to the match, watching the Irish Chasers work in seamless coordination. Despite his preoccupation with the night ahead, he couldn't help being drawn into the spectacle. This was Quidditch at its finest—players moving with such speed and precision that they became blurs of colour streaking across the sky.
Halfway through the first quarter, Harry judged the time was right. Everyone was focused on the pitch, even the usually vigilant Lucius Malfoy. Harry slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling for the smoke pellet. His mind flashed back to the early hours of this morning.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry had sneaked out of the house after everyone was asleep. He made his way to the Weasleys' orchard with Hadrian.
Harry yawned. “Why am I here?”
"I’m going to teach you the tracking spell," Hadrian said. “It’s going to play an important part in my plan.”
“Why are you only teaching me this now?”
“The plan is constantly evolving.”
Harry snorted. “Sounds like you have no idea what you’re doing. How am I supposed to learn the spell by sunrise?”
“I have faith in you.”
The night air was cool against his skin as he followed Hadrian deeper into the orchard, away from the house.
"How does it work?" Harry had asked, summoning his wand.
"The incantation is 'Vestigium Imprimo.' The wand movement is three small clockwise circles followed by a quick jab toward your target." Hadrian demonstrated the motion. "The spell creates a magical tag that only the caster can sense. It's like an invisible thread connecting you to whatever you've marked."
Harry practised the wand movement.
"Smaller circles," Hadrian corrected, moving closer to demonstrate. "Your movement is too wide. And the jab should be sharp, decisive—like punching through paper, not pushing against it."
Harry adjusted his grip on the wand, his fingers finding their position more naturally now that he'd had some practice. He made the circle tighter, and more controlled. He finished with a quick, sharp jab.
"Better," Hadrian nodded. "Now do it again. Fifty more times."
"Fifty?" Harry groaned.
"Muscle memory is crucial for spellwork," Hadrian explained. "Your body needs to remember the movement so your mind can focus entirely on the intent behind the spell."
Harry began the repetitions, his arm moving in the precise pattern while Hadrian watched with critical eyes. After the twentieth repetition, the movement began to feel natural, almost instinctive.
"Better. Now for the tricky part. You need to visualise your magic reaching out like a tendril, attaching to your target, and sinking beneath the surface. Intent matters with this spell—you need to want to find your target no matter where they go."
"How long does it last?" Harry asked.
"About twelve hours, depending on your power. It can't be detected by ordinary revealing spells, which makes it particularly useful." Hadrian paused. "The caster can feel the general direction and approximate distance of the tagged object or person. The closer you get, the more precise the feeling becomes."
Harry spent hours marking various apples on the trees and then finding them blindfolded until he could cast the spell with minimal concentration, all while being careful not to wake the Weasley household.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry waited for a spectacular Irish goal before pulling out the smoke pellet. As the crowd leapt to their feet in celebration, he dropped it casually to the floor and crushed it beneath his shoe.
Thick grey smoke billowed up instantly, filling the Top Box. Coughing erupted all around him as visibility dropped to zero. Minister Fudge seemed to have inhaled a particularly large amount, his hacking coughs louder than anyone else's.
"What’s going on?!" someone shouted.
"Everyone stay calm!" Mr Weasley's voice rang out. "Ventus!"
A gust of wind began to clear the smoke, but Harry had already drawn his wand. Amid the confusion, he pointed it at where he knew Pansy sat.
"Vestigium Imprimo," he whispered, making the small circular motions followed by the sharp jab.
He felt the spell take hold—a faint tug in his mind connecting him to Pansy, like an invisible piece of string stretching between them. He tucked his wand away just as the smoke thinned enough for faces to become visible again.
"What was that?" Fudge demanded, his face red from coughing.
"Some sort of prank, I imagine," Mr Weasley said, looking at the twins suspiciously.
"It was probably those twin menaces," Draco sneered, his usually perfect hair slightly dishevelled.
"Hey," Fred held up his hands. "We didn't do anything."
"That's right," George added. "We know the time and place for pranks and this isn't it."
"Bravo to the bloke who pulled off the prank, though," Fred said, pretending to wipe away a tear. “He’s my hero.”
Ginny crossed her arms. “Who says it was a bloke? Witches are just as capable.”
“Are you admitting to the crime?” George asked.
“Of course not.”
“Best not to say anything,” Fred whispered loudly. “Don’t want to incriminate yourself.”
Mr Weasley sighed. "Just sit back down."
Harry caught the twins giving him a subtle thumbs up. Fortunately, the smoke pellets left no residue that could be traced back to him.
"Brilliant execution," Hadrian commented. "You can now find her anywhere in the campsite."
The match resumed, and soon the Bulgarian team sent out their mascots—Veela who danced across the pitch. Harry watched as Ron and many other males around him leaned forward, expressions glazed and slack-jawed. Even Mr Weasley seemed affected, though he fought against the allure more successfully.
"Feel anything?" Hadrian asked, studying Harry's face.
Harry subtly shook his head. The Veela were beautiful, certainly, but he felt none of the overwhelming compulsion that seemed to grip the others.
"Interesting," Hadrian murmured. "Even I wasn't completely immune when I was in your position."
Harry wondered what this meant but had no opportunity to ask as the match intensified. The Irish Chasers dominated the scoring, but Viktor Krum's flying was mesmerising—exactly as Hadrian had described. Despite a bloodied nose and the insurmountable point difference, Krum captured the Snitch in a breathtaking dive that had the entire stadium on its feet.
"IRELAND WINS!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed across the stadium. "KRUM CATCHES THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS!"
The twins erupted in wild celebration, their planned wealth now secured. Ron was beside himself, torn between jubilation for Ireland's victory and awe at Krum's skill.
As they filed out of the Top Box, Harry felt the faint pull of the tracking spell in his mind. He could sense Pansy moving down the staircase ahead of him but couldn’t see her.
"Ready for tonight?" Hadrian asked quietly as they descended the stairs.
Harry nodded. The excitement of the match was already fading, replaced by the weight of what was to come. Back at the Weasley tents, celebrations were in full swing, but Harry's mind was firmly fixed on the countdown to midnight—and the attack that would set everything in motion.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=
Harry lay awake in his bunk, staring at the canvas ceiling of the Weasleys' tent. The celebrations outside had died down, replaced by an eerie silence. The tracking spell he'd cast on Pansy still tugged at his mind, like a compass needle pointing steadily southeast.
He'd cast the same spell on Ron when he fell asleep after the celebrations. He would need to find his friend later.
"It's almost time," Hadrian said, his ghostly form standing by the entrance.
Screams suddenly erupted from outside. Harry had just grabbed his wand when Mr Weasley rushed into their room.
"Get up! Ron—Harry—everyone! Emergency!"
Ron mumbled incoherently, still half-asleep, but Harry was already pulling on his shoes.
"What's happening?" Harry asked.
"Death Eaters," Mr Weasley said grimly, his wand lit. "We need to get to safety. Now!"
They stumbled out of the tent into chaos. Dozens of people were fleeing toward the woods, away from a group of masked figures marching slowly through the campsite. Tents went up in flames as the Death Eaters raised their wands in unison. Above them, suspended in mid-air, were four struggling figures—the Muggle family who owned the campground.
"We're going to help the Ministry," Mr Weasley shouted over the screams, as Bill, Charlie and Percy emerged from the tent with their wands drawn. "You lot get into the woods and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when it's safe."
Fred grabbed Ginny's hand while George and Ron pulled Hermione along. Harry followed behind, keeping track of Pansy somewhere to his right.
The darkness of the forest swallowed them, flashes of light from the campsite illuminating their path in bursts. Frightened faces appeared and disappeared around them as other campers fled into the trees.
"Lumos," Hermione whispered, her wand tip igniting.
They pushed deeper into the woods, the sounds of destruction becoming more distant. When they reached a clearing filled with other frightened witches and wizards, Harry spotted his opportunity.
"I need the loo," he muttered to Ron.
"Now? Seriously?" Ron hissed back.
"It's an emergency," Harry insisted, already backing away. "I'll be right back."
Before anyone could stop him, he ducked behind a large oak tree and immediately changed direction, following the pull toward Pansy.
Harry ran through the trees, his lit wand held low to avoid drawing attention. The pull grew stronger with each step until it became an insistent tug. He was close.
A scream cut through the night—high-pitched and terrified. Harry sprinted toward it, emerging into a small clearing where Pansy Parkinson was backed against a tree. Two masked Death Eaters stood before her, wands raised. Her robes were torn across the front, exposing her pale chemise beneath.
"Pretty little pureblood," one of them slurred, clearly drunk. "Let's see if you're as proud as your father."
"Vestigium Imprimo," Harry whispered, casting the tracking spell twice in quick succession at the Death Eaters, just as Hadrian had instructed.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pellets—a smoke bomb and one of the twins' enhanced Dungbombs. He hurled both into the clearing.
The pellets erupted with a soft pop. Thick smoke billowed out, followed by a stench so foul it made Harry's eyes water even at a distance. The Death Eaters cursed and staggered, momentarily blinded and retching.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, targeting the nearest Death Eater.
His new wand responded with startling power. The spell hit with such force that not only did the wand fly from the Death Eater's grip, but the man himself was knocked backwards several feet. With a crack, he Disapparated.
The second Death Eater was quicker to recover. He slashed his wand through the air, vanishing the smoke and stench with a nonverbal spell.
"Potter!" he spat, recognising Harry through his mask. "Crucio!"
Harry dived to the side as the red beam scorched the tree where he'd been standing. He rolled to his feet, but the Death Eater was already firing again. Harry ducked and weaved, but each spell came closer than the last.
Suddenly, a cold sensation washed over him, like being doused in icy water. Hadrian's ghostly form was no longer beside him—it had passed through him.
"Sorry," Hadrian's voice whispered in his mind.
Harry's limbs went numb, no longer under his control. Panic flared briefly before he realised what was happening: Hadrian had taken over.
His body straightened and his wand arm snapped up. His feet shifted into a duelling stance he'd never learned.
Harry's body straightened and his wand arm snapped up. His feet shifted into a duelling stance he'd never learned—weight balanced perfectly, right foot forward, knees slightly bent. A strange sense of muscle memory took over, though these weren't his muscles and this wasn't his memory.
His wand slashed through the air and his mouth shaped unfamiliar words: "Avis Oppugno!"
A flock of birds—aggressive, hawk-like creatures with razor-sharp beaks—erupted from his wand tip. They swarmed toward the Death Eater in a coordinated attack pattern.
The Death Eater batted frantically at the birds, spinning in place as they attacked from all sides.
"What the—" his curse was cut short as a bird raked across his masked face.
Harry felt his body moving without his command, sidestepping with a fluid grace foreign to him. The movements were economical and precise—no wasted motion, no hesitation. His wand hand executed a series of subtle flicks and jabs. Each movement was just enough—not a degree more or less than necessary.
His arm snapped forward, and three spells flowed in rapid succession:
"Expulso!"
The blue light shot toward a tree beside the Death Eater, blasting bark and splinters in a calculated distraction.
"Impedimenta!"
As the Death Eater shielded his face from the wooden shrapnel, the jinx caught him in the legs, slowing his movements to a crawl.
"Diffindo!"
The cutting charm was aimed not at the Death Eater's core which a shield charm would naturally protect, but at his off-arm in a precise strike that sliced through cloth and skin. The Death Eater howled in pain as a streak of crimson appeared through his torn sleeve.
"Damn you!" the man snarled, finally managing to dispel the birds with a desperate sweeping fire charm.
He started raising his wand for what would surely be a lethal counter, but Harry's body was already rotating out of the line of fire.
"Bombarda!"
The spell struck not directly at the Death Eater but at the ground beneath his feet—another strategically unexpected target. Earth erupted in a controlled explosion, catapulting the masked figure backwards. He crashed against a tree trunk with a sickening thud, his wand falling from stunned fingers.
Before the Death Eater could recover, Harry's wand was already executing a complicated spiral motion.
"Glacius Tormenta!"
A spell Harry had never even heard of before—much less cast—poured from his wand. The area around the Death Eater transformed into a localised blizzard, sharp ice crystals swirling in a freezing vortex. The temperature plummeted so rapidly that frost formed on the surrounding vegetation. The Death Eater's screams were muffled by the howling wind as ice crystals sliced at his exposed skin and freezing air penetrated his lungs.
With a desperate crack, the Death Eater Disapparated, leaving behind nothing but droplets of frozen blood glistening on the icy ground and a lingering echo of his pain.
The cold sensation that enveloped Harry's consciousness began to recede as Hadrian's presence withdrew. Control returned to his limbs, leaving him disoriented. Harry staggered, nearly falling to his knees as the artificial skill and confidence drained away, leaving him once again a fourteen-year-old boy who suddenly felt the weight of his inexperience.
He leaned against a tree for support, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. The wand in his hand—his new wand of rowan and phoenix feather—pulsed with residual magic, warm and almost alive against his palm. Whatever had just happened, his wand had not resisted it.
The realisation of what had just occurred—how completely his autonomy had been stripped away—sent a different kind of shiver down his spine. He'd been nothing but a passenger in his own body, watching through his own eyes as someone else fought with his hands.
It had been terrifyingly effective. And absolutely violating.
Pansy was staring at him, wide-eyed with shock.
"Your clothes," Harry managed, gesturing to her torn robes.
She glanced down and hastily pulled her robes together, her fingers trembling.
"We need to go," Harry said, extending his hand. "More might come."
Pansy hesitated. "How did you—"
"Later," Harry interrupted. "Right now, we need to find the others."
After a moment, she nodded and took his hand. Harry helped her to her feet, then closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the second tracking spell. The one tied to Ron.
"This way," he said, heading deeper into the forest.
"Move quickly," Hadrian urged, now running beside them. "We don't want to miss Crouch."
They ran through the trees, Pansy staying close behind. The forest grew denser, and the sounds of chaos from the campsite began to fade.
Finally, they spotted two familiar figures ahead—Ron and Hermione.
"Harry!" Hermione cried when she saw him.
Before Harry could respond, a deep voice echoed through the trees:
"MORSMORDRE!"
As soon as Harry heard the chicken squawk, he raised his wand and aimed it toward the bushes.
"What the—" Ron began.
Panicked shouting erupted from the trees. Harry didn't hesitate.
"Stupefy!" he shouted, firing the spell into the foliage.
There was a thud, like a body hitting the ground, followed by more squawking.
"Stay here," Harry told the others, but they were already following him as he rushed into the bushes.
The scene that met them was bizarre. A rubber chicken was floating mid-air, seemingly beating something invisible on the ground.
"What in Merlin's name?" Ron whispered.
Harry approached cautiously, reaching out with his hand. His fingers connected with a piece of silky fabric. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak off, revealing Barty Crouch Jr lying on the forest floor, his arms raised to protect his head from the relentless rubber chicken. Harry's Stunning Spell had missed him, but he was defenceless without a wand.
Barty lunged suddenly, his gaunt face twisted with desperation as he reached for Harry's throat. Harry jumped back, his wand already moving.
"Stupefy!"
This time the spell hit its mark, striking Barty in the chest. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed, unconscious.
Harry placed his wand back in his holster, his fingers shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush. The plan had succeeded, but he felt uneasy about how it had unfolded—particularly when Hadrian had overtaken his body without permission. That wasn't something they'd discussed beforehand, and Harry made a mental note to confront him about it later. Hadrian was withholding crucial information from him.
The plan had evolved significantly from Hadrian's initial one. What started as a simple tracking operation had transformed into something far more elaborate after they arrived at the campsite. They'd originally intended to merely follow the tracking spell to locate Crouch after he cast the Dark Mark, but watching the twins peddle their joke products had sparked something in Hadrian.
Another one of the twins' inventions provided the perfect sabotage opportunity. The twins were the star of tonight's show, although they didn't know it. Under Hadrian's instruction, Harry had purchased one and deliberately kept it visible in his outer pocket during the match.
The gamble paid off. During the crowd's excitement after a spectacular Irish goal, Crouch had made his move—expertly lifting the trick wand while everyone was distracted. Harry had felt the slight tug but pretended not to notice, exactly as Hadrian instructed. Crouch never suspected he'd stolen a joke item rather than a functional wand.
Now, looking at the unconscious man being secured by Ministry officials, Harry couldn't help but wonder how many other modifications Hadrian had made to their plans without fully explaining them. The man from the future was playing a complex game of chess and Harry was increasingly uncertain whether he was a player or just another piece on the board.
"Harry, who is that?" Hermione asked, staring at the unconscious man.
"I don't know," Harry answered.
While Hadrian had told him about Barty Crouch Jr, he couldn't explain how he knew without revealing Hadrian's existence.
Ron picked up the rubber chicken, which had finally gone still. "Whoever it is, that spell he was trying to cast didn't sound like anything good. But why did he try to cast it with one of the twins' trick wands?"
"Who knows?" Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's one of the twins' ultimate pranks?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," Ron muttered.
Pansy poked her head through the bushes, having stayed back during the confrontation. "Is it safe?"
Hermione and Ron eyed her warily.
"Harry, what are you doing with her?" Ron asked, his tone suspicious.
"When I went to find a place to relieve myself, I heard a girl screaming," Harry explained. "I ran to investigate and found two Death Eaters harassing her."
"When you say harassing her, do you mean..." Hermione began.
"They were going to rape me, Granger," Pansy stated bluntly.
Hermione rushed over to Pansy and hugged the girl, who wore a constipated expression that would have made Harry laugh in any other situation.
"Alright, let go of me, Granger," Pansy said stiffly, pushing Hermione away. "I'm more interested in this person lying unconscious on the ground. Do you know the spell he was trying to cast?"
"What was it?" Hermione asked.
"It was the incantation for the Dark Mark," Pansy said.
"Voldemort's sign?" Ron gasped. "I knew it was something bad. Wait, how do you know about it? Did your father teach it to you?"
"Ron, don't be rude," Hermione scolded.
"What? How else would she know about it?"
Pansy's face hardened. "My father told me about it. He heard it after watching Voldemort kill my mother while he was restrained and then cast the mark into the sky."
Hermione gasped, and Ron looked shocked.
"Your parents weren't Death Eaters?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Not everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater," Pansy snapped.
"But you hang around Malfoy!" Ron protested.
"Because I'm forced to," Pansy said. "You wouldn't understand."
Harry studied her for a moment. "Who was the woman in the Top Box with you?"
"My stepmother," Pansy replied.
A silence fell over them. Hadrian stood beside Harry, looking satisfied at how events had unfolded.
"We've changed things," he said to Harry. "The mark was never cast. Crouch was captured before he could escape."
"We need to get this man to the authorities," Harry said, ignoring Hadrian. "And see if we can find your family, Ron. Pansy, you can stick with us until you find your family."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Pansy said, glancing nervously in the direction of the campsite.
"Your other option is to wander the forest alone with Death Eaters about," Hermione pointed out.
Pansy sighed. "Fine."
Harry used the Levitation Charm on Barty’s clothes. Barty's body rose into the air, suspended as if by invisible strings, his limbs hanging limp.
"Harry," Hermione said. "You shouldn't be using your wand outside of Hogwarts. The Underage Restriction for—"
"I can use it for self-defence," Harry interrupted, nodding toward Barty's hovering form. "One more spell is unlikely to get me in trouble, considering the circumstances."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, her brows furrowed in that familiar way that suggested a lecture was imminent. Before she could continue, Pansy nudged her with an elbow.
"Give it a rest, Granger," Pansy said. "Unless you'd prefer to carry the unconscious criminal yourself?"
Hermione’s mouth snapped shut.
As Barty's body floated behind them, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. This was the first major deviation from Hadrian's original timeline—the proof that they could change things. The man who would have played a crucial role in Voldemort's return was captured before he could cause any harm.
A shiver ran down Harry's spine as he considered the implications. They were navigating uncharted waters now. Each change they made would trigger countless others, creating ripples that would transform the future in ways even Hadrian couldn't fully predict. The captured Death Eater floating behind them represented both their success and their leap into uncertainty.
During their late-night conversations, Harry and Hadrian had debated this very point.
"Isn't it dangerous to change too much?" Harry had asked. "What if we make things worse?"
Hadrian's response had been firm. "The future I come from isn't worth preserving, Harry. Playing it safe, following the known path—that leads to disaster. We need to be bold."
Harry had found himself agreeing. After all, what was the point of knowing the future if you were too afraid to use it? Better to face an unknown future they helped shape than to passively watch tragedy unfold, knowing they could have prevented it.
So, what do you think? You might have noticed a few differences from canon, like Winky's absence. I'll explain it in the next chapter, and how the lack of the Dark Mark influences the story.
Thanks for reading.
