A/N: Things are still in a slow burn mode as far as the plotline goes, but we're moving along at a much quicker pace than the previous story. Ergo I see this as being closer to around twenty chapters as opposed to the thirty that Founders was.
Chapter 5: Changing of the Guard
The Dark Lord sat at his throne, stroking his chin slowly, regarding the unkempt squib that stood before him. He knew that Caliban had kept a web of informants that he used to keep tabs on the wizarding world. One such person was Charles van Houtan. Apparently Charles was still bringing valuable information to him, even after Caliban's death.
"You're quite certain it was him," Voldemort asked, continuing to stare a hole at the quivering coward that knelt in front of him.
"Y-Yes my lord. He spoke of himself in name and there's no other wizard who would be looking for this woman." Charles continued to shake as he looked back down at the floor below him. Squibs were rarely given the chance to be in the presence of Voldemort, let alone speak to him directly. The experience was unsettling to him to say the least. He dared to look around him, staring at the torchlight flickering off the speculative faces of many of the assembled Death Eaters.
Voldemort looked to the side at his trusted inner sanctum, the Lestrange brothers standing to his left and Dolohov standing to his right. Behind him sat Bellatrix, cackling maniacally to herself, while Fenrir stood next to the cowering simpleton, his at present non existent fangs figuratively dripping with Malfoy's blood. To the side stood Pettigrew and Rookwood, each stoically looking on. Voldemort turned his blood red gaze back towards the squib, as he casually tossed his wand from one hand to the other. "Very good then," he replied, giving his next action a bit of falsified thought. "You know, Caliban always thought very highly of you, for a squib that is…" Charles looked up, a bit of relief etched on his face, "And in keeping with the dearly departed's wishes…perhaps I should reward you…with the sweet release of death." Voldemort smiled a toothy grin while Charles stood up and started to run away. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The green jet arced out of Voldemort's wand, striking Charles in the back and sending him sprawling to the floor.
Almost immediately Voldemort cried out in agony and leaned forward, clutching his chest in pain. His face contorted as the shockwave of anguish rolled through him like an avalanche. Wormtail quickly raced to his master's side, as did Fenrir and Rookwood. Bellatrix stopped and looked on concerned, while the Lestrange brothers merely stood back and watched. Voldemort seemed to collect himself after a few moments, and he frantically gazed around the world. "What are you all gawking at," he muttered under his breath in a fierce tone, "Go back to your assignments!" Without further words, the assembled Death Eaters did as they were told, leaving Voldemort alone in his suffering.
/ - / - / - /
It was later in this very same room where Rabastian and Rudolphus Lestrange were pacing about, each one of them somewhat speechless about the day's events. Rudolphus sat down in frustration on a small chair that had been conjured for meetings and the like, while Rabastian leaned against the wall, his face pointed downwards. Finally, Rudolphus broke the silence. "Perhaps we made the wrong decision, brother." Rabastian glanced up at him, staring straight into his heavy set eyes.
"What do you mean?" he asked in reply, moving closer towards his brother. Rudolphus ran a hand through his thinning hair and glanced away at nothing in particular.
"We spent thirteen years of our lives in Azkaban. We never renounced him, never once. And how are we repaid? We, the most loyal of his servants, are shunned away from him." He sniffed and turned back towards his brother, "Something has happened to him, that much is certain."
"Perhaps he is still feeling the loss of Caliban," Rabastian tried to argue. "He was the only thing you could consider a friend to him."
Rudolphus scoffed. "More like a lap dog. When it came time to assault the Department of Mysteries, where was Caliban? When it came time to hunt the Longbottoms after our Lord's disappearance…where was Caliban? When we felt our Dark Marks burn at the Dark Lord's approach of our impending release at Azkaban, where was Caliban?" Rabastian looked downward, not having much of an answer. "I thought as much." He stopped when he heard footsteps approaching, and then softened slightly when he saw his wife enter the room. "Ah, Bella," he said as cordially as possible, "Perhaps you can shed some light on the Dark Lord's predicament."
Bellatrix shook her head. "Nothing, he has shunned me away from attempting to care for him. The only ones he speaks to anymore are Wormtail and Dolohov. Wormtail because he is suited to such matters, and Dolohov because of his mission."
"We all saw how that curse affected him," Rabastian said, trying to deduce the reasoning behind the Dark Lord's seemingly deteriorating condition. "And Severus has been brewing potions for him nearly nonstop. If I didn't know any better…" Rabastian's eyes went wide as he came to a seemingly impossible conclusion, "What if our Lord is suffering from the same affliction as Caliban?"
"You mean the one Caliban suffered from years ago," Bellatrix asked, with more than a scowl on her face, "The one he cured with help from my sister?"
"The same," Rabastian replied. The implication seemed to hit everyone like a ton of bricks to the head. If Voldemort was losing his magic then….Rudolphus quickly set aside the thoughts.
"It can't be," Rudolphus said, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion, "There must be some other explanation." They stood there in silence for a moment longer, before Rudolphus returned to his earlier point. "My point is that, perhaps he is not the Dark Lord we once thought him to be."
"You would do well to hold your tongue, Rudolphus," came a deep voice from behind them. The Lestranges all turned to see Dolohov walking in, a stern countenance on his face.
"And perhaps you would do well to hold yours," Rudolphus replied, facing this threat to his authority, "Unless you wish to see who the better man is?" Dolohov stood firm, before Rabastian got in between them both.
"There's no need to fight amongst ourselves," Rabastian said calmly. He turned towards Dolohov. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to the Dark Lord's condition."
"The Dark Lord is perfectly well," Dolohov coldly replied, "There is nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"Of course there's not," Rudolphus shot back. "Potter has grown immeasurably in strength…Dumbledore's Order remains a threat…our Lord's top lieutenant has died and all we've done is a scare tactic raid on Diagon Alley. We should have moved against Hogwarts or the Ministry by now!"
"Patience Rudolphus," Dolohov answered flatly, "We will strike when the timing is right."
"And when will that be," Bellatrix chimed in. "I am as loyal as anyone in this room, but my husband is right. The time to act is now, before Potter gains anymore in strength. If Severus is to be believed, then the rift between he and the old coot has been mended to some degree. If they were to unite as one force against us…"
"The Dark Lord has anticipated this possibility," Dolohov interrupted, "Rest assured that we are at work to stop such a plan from occurring."
"Forgive me if I do not share your confidence Antonin," Rudolphus returned, a smirk on his face. They heard a shuffling sound coming from the other side of the room and turned to look, all of them stopping when they saw Voldemort himself emerging from the shadows. He glared at the two Lestrange brothers through his blood red eyes, and lifted his hand toward them.
"You should share his confidence," he said coldly, before violet streaks of energy shot out of his fingers and nailed the two Lestrange brothers straight in the chest. He held the modified Crucio for a few seconds longer, ignoring the simpering Wormtail behind him and the wide-eyed Dolohov across from him. He broke away the curse and left the two of them writhing in pain before he calmly turned towards Bellatrix, tilting his head ever slightly as he casually asked, "I trust there is no more doubt of my well-being?" Bellatrix quickly shook her head. "Very good," Voldemort replied, before using the same technique on Bellatrix.
He then casually limped out of the throne room, leaving Dolohov and Wormtail to shuffle after him.
/ - / - / - /
Harry quite nervously paced back and forth in the Great Room of Grimmauld Place. He was tired of being cooped up. He was tired of simply waiting for another attack. He needed to go on the offensive.
And quite frankly, he couldn't exactly pin his troubles on Dumbledore at the given moment, as the old man seemed as clueless as Harry as to the whereabouts of these Horcrux things he was looking for. Frustrated, Harry slammed his fist into the wall, wincing after he forgot to place a cushioning charm against the hard brick and mortar.
"Harry," came a questioning voice from the entryway. Harry turned to look and smiled when he saw Neville standing there. "Everything alright there mate?"
"Yeah Nev," Harry replied. Harry wasn't exactly sure where the nickname had come from, but somewhere over the course of the last time warp they were in he had adopted it for his friend. Neville smiled back and walked into the room, sitting down on a chair across from Harry. "I just feel a bit like a caged animal right now," Harry confessed, walking over and sitting down next to him. "There's so much I could be doing, and we just don't have the information right now."
"Wait till Remus gets back from this Professor Longshanks bloke," Neville suggested. "By then we might have some kind of idea of what angle the old codger is playing from." He paused a moment before he stared down at the floor. "Harry, there's something I've been meaning to ask you…about Draco." Harry turned to him, puzzled. "Do you know how much of Draco was there when he was in the time warp with us…and how much was an act?"
Harry thought long and hard about his answer. He didn't trust Draco and certainly wouldn't call him a friend. If nothing else he was simply trying to make a second chance for himself by all appearances, or simply laying low till the war blew over. "It's hard to say really," Harry finally answered, "All I know is that I owe him for saving Hermione's life. I intend to let him find himself, if that's what he truly wants to do, if that's what you're asking." Harry arched an eyebrow and then asked Neville, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Ginny would it?" Neville's cheeks immediately flushed, and Harry smirked.
"That obvious, huh?" Neville sheepishly replied, trying to laugh at himself.
"Just a little bit. But even if she has caught on, I doubt she'd be ready for a relationship. Ginny just needs some time alone. Give her some time though, and maybe she'll see what's in front of her." Neville glanced at Harry with something akin to hope in his eyes, before he resolutely nodded his head. "Just don't force the issue or Ginny or her brothers will hex your man-bits into oblivion." Neville laughed at the thought, though he internally cringed at the same time.
/ - / - / - /
The next two days passed by without incident in the wizarding world, and a rescheduled Wizengamot meeting dawned. Harry sat in his seat, glancing upwards at his wife who was seated in the place reserved for member's spouses and betrothed. Only they were allowed to sit in on the proceedings. He turned his glance towards Dumbledore, not bothering to hide his contempt for the man at the given moment. Despite their truce, he still felt an unabashed hatred for all of his meddling; a hatred that had been simmered by nearly three years of detachment and retrospection on his situation.
"The chair recognizes the esteemed Lazarus, leader of the Unspeakables," Dumbledore clearly intoned, and Harry stared over at the ancient man as he slowly stood up and hobbled out in front of the assembled party. Harry watched him closely, trying to garner any hint of his intentions from his countenance. He didn't dare try to use occulumency on the man; as such a person was likely a master legilimens.
"Fellow delegates," Lazarus began, his voice high pitched and raspy, a stark contrast from his normal speaking manner. "They say that history is doomed to repeat itself should we not learn from its mistakes. Speaking from the experience that only my advanced age can grant me, I know this to be all too painful a fact. I have lived for these many years to see three separate dark lords come and go. It saddens me that those in power have not learned from the mistakes of their predecessors." He stopped momentarily to spare a glance at Dumbledore and then a grimacing Minister Fudge for a moment. Harry was prepared with his own nomination of Arthur Weasley at this session, but his interest was immediately drawn by this odd turn of events. If Lazarus was suggesting such a move, then did it mean that he was on his side?
"Now once again our world is threatened by one of these same dark lords of the past, and yet this august body's leadership denied his very existence for nearly a year! A year that could have been spent in preparation that could have prevented the attack on my own Department a little more than a month ago. A year that could have been spent in preparation that could have prevented the attack on Diagon Alley just a few days ago.
"I cannot make such a motion; parliamentary law prevents me from doing so," Lazarus confessed, "But know this…there must be a change of leadership…before it is too late. I implore you…stand up for yourselves…before it is too late for all of us." With this, Lazarus sat back down at his place, clearly winded from the speech. Minister Fudge stood up from behind Dumbledore, his eyes clearly fixated on Lazarus.
"While I'm certain we all appreciate your candor, Lazarus, the fact is that your words are little more than a bunch of empty threats and an attempt to grab power." Lazarus never once stopped glaring at Fudge. "You speak of history, yet you forget your own. Let us not forget who it was that held up crucial legislation that could have granted the use of Unforgivables by Aurors much sooner during the last war with You-Know-Who. Let us not forget who it was who started the war with the first dark lord you mentioned, the Dark Lord Rasputovitch." Harry cocked an eyebrow. He didn't remember that name from any of the History of Magic lessons. He didn't catch Dumbledore's flinch either. Deciding the time had come to act, and taking Lazarus' words to heart, Harry stood up.
"I speak out now as is my right," Harry said quickly. Fudge looked to protest, but a glance from Dumbledore stopped him. Harry didn't notice the toothless grin that crossed Lazarus' face. "I have been at the forefront of these attacks since I was a baby," Harry began. "Voldemort…" Harry rolled his eyes when there was an audible gasp at the usage of his name, but pressed forward nonetheless, "Seeks to dominate the wizarding world through the use of two tactics: fear and politics. He has succeeded in regards to the former. You all fear to use his name, even when he was in exile for twelve years! In the latter, he nearly succeeded. Lucius Malfoy, a known cohort of our current minister, was revealed to be a Death Eater, and now sits a rotting corpse in Azakaban's cemetery." Harry glared at Fudge, who looked red enough to blow a gasket. "But Voldemort is not so strong that we cannot defeat him if we stand united under one banner. Whoever that person may be, it is clearly not Cornelius Fudge. Therefore, I move for a vote of no confidence against Minister Fudge."
"Now see here!" Fudge began to shout, only to be drowned out by Dumbledore, who merely moved forward as if the Minister were not even there.
"Is there a second to the call of no confidence," he said mechanically.
"I will not be ig…"
"I second the motion." Harry turned and smiled when he saw Augusta Longbottom move forward.
"I move that the motion be tabled for now," came a sing-song voice that made Harry's blood boil. He glared right back at Delores Umbridge.
"Is there a second for the motion of tabling the issue?" No one spoke up, "The motion to table is denied. There has been a motion and a second….all those in favor." Fudge tried to speak but was drowned out by the chorus of wands shooting sparks high into the air. "All those opposed," Only a few sparks flew upwards. "Very well…the motion passes. As of this moment, Cornelius Fudge is no longer Minister for Magic."
/ - / - / - /
Draco Malfoy didn't know exactly why fate had steered him to this person's door. He didn't quite know exactly how to introduce himself. How does one claim to be another's long lost son?
Nevertheless, he found himself staring at the home of Miranda Harrison nee-Breyerson. It was a rather nondescript house in a suburb of Manchester, nowhere near where he expected it to be. He flinched when he saw the normality of it, and allowed himself to hope for the briefest of moments. What would she say, he wondered. Would she simply dismiss him to the street? Would she break down crying? What would happen?
He figured he'd never find out if he simply stood out here for too long. Summoning up what courage he could, he knocked softly on the door. There was a long pause between the time he finished knocking and the time he heard the muffled barks of a dog from inside and the sound of scurrying footsteps. Quickly the footsteps approached closer, and the door swung open.
The woman had long blonde hair, just like Draco's, and pale, hazel eyes to match. She was wearing nothing more than a pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt. She had a curious look on her face as she opened the door and spoke in an angelic voice, "Can I help you?"
"Yes..umm.." Draco cleared his throat, finding it very parched at that particular moment. "Are you Miranda Breyerson?" he asked bluntly, hoping to Merlin he had the right house.
"Yes," she replied, staring at him curiously.
"I see then." Draco swallowed a gulp of air, and figured there was no real delicate way of going about this. Once he had decided that, he simply moved forward as best he could. "My name is Draco Malfoy and I," he heard an audible gasp from the woman, and he looked up to see unshed tears in her eyes as she looked at him.
"D-Did you say Malfoy," she asked quietly. Draco silently nodded his head. The woman smiled and began to cry tears of happiness, before all at once enveloping Draco in a smothering embrace. Draco was caught off guard, but quickly fell into the embrace as well.
A small voice in the back of his head told him that, finally, he was home.
A/N: You'll meet Longshanks in the next chapter.