Chapter 11

Minerva emerged from the fireplace, her presence unexpected yet welcomed by the group gathered in the sitting room at Blackmoor. Charlus, Sirius, and the others turned towards her, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Minerva!" Charlus exclaimed, a note of astonishment in his voice. "What brings you here?"

"I don't know what this is, but Dumbledore had it, and I believe it's what you're looking for," she explained, extending her hand to reveal the object she had retrieved from Dumbledore.

Charlus and the others looked at the object, their eyes widening in recognition. Without a word, Charlus approached Minerva and gently took the object from her hands.

"Thank you, Minerva," Charlus said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated."

Charlus turned to Melania with a grateful nod. "Melania, would you mind escorting Minerva to the Potter Estate? Dorea is looking after Harry, and I'm sure she would appreciate the company."

Melania nodded in agreement. "Of course, Charlus. Minerva, please follow me."

Minerva followed Melania out of Blackmoor, her heart lighter knowing that she had played a crucial role in helping the Potters in their quest to defeat Voldemort.

—

Gathering in the study at Blackmoor, Charlus, Arcturus, and the others discussed the unexpected arrival of Minerva and the object she brought with her. 

"This is a crucial turning point in our quest," Charlus remarked, his tone reflecting a mix of relief and anticipation.

Arcturus nodded in agreement. "Indeed, I am pleased that we now possess the final Horcrux."

Ammon, after performing a series of spells on the object, confirmed, "Yes, this is indeed the final Horcrux. With its destruction, Voldemort's soul will be vulnerable, and he will be mortal once again."

Ammon's revelation about the final Horcrux brought a sense of both relief and urgency to the group, but Sirius's words cast a shadow of suspicion over the situation.

"McGonagall mentioned that Dumbledore was trying to hide this object from us," Sirius pointed out, his brow furrowed in concern. "That means he knew what we were hunting for and what this object was. Why would he keep this from us?"

The question hung in the air, unsettling the group as they grappled with the implications of Dumbledore's actions.

Moody, always vigilant and suspicious, voiced his theory. "Dumbledore might have had his reasons for keeping this from us," he suggested, his voice gruff with suspicion. "He might have been planning something on his own. We can't rule out the possibility that he had a strategy in mind."

The group exchanged glances, considering Moody's words carefully. While they might have trusted Dumbledore in the past, the events since the death of James and Lily had cast doubt on his intentions.

Benjy's voice was filled with concern as he voiced his thoughts. "What if Dumbledore knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes and did nothing?" he mused, his brow furrowed with worry. "What if he had the means to destroy them but chose not to?"

Sirius's voice carried the weight of worry as he continued the train of thought. "What if Dumbledore knew there was a Horcrux in Harry's scar?" he speculated, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and disbelief. "What if he planned for Harry to sacrifice himself without telling him the truth?"

The room fell into a heavy silence as Sirius's words sank in, stirring a sense of unease and doubt among those gathered.

Charlus rose from his seat, his eyes burning with a cold fury. He turned to Ammon with a firm command. "Deal with the Horcrux," he instructed tersely. Then, turning to Arcturus, he gestured for him to come along. "You're coming with me," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I want to have a word with Albus."

"We're coming with you," Sirius stated firmly, his eyes reflecting the intensity of his determination. 

"We need answers," Benjy added, his tone resolute.

Moody's voice was gruff as he said, "Can't risk you lot going alone. We're in this together." 

Charlus sighed, knowing they had a point. "Fine, but let me do the talking." With that, he led the group out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, each step heavy with the weight of their collective apprehension.

—

As Madam Pomfrey bustled around Dumbledore, her expression revealed a mix of concern and annoyance. "You should know better than to get into duels at your age," she scolded gently as she checked him over, her wand swiftly casting diagnostic spells.

Dumbledore chuckled weakly. "It seems age has not dulled my spirit, Poppy," he replied, his eyes betraying a hint of amusement despite his condition.

Snape stood nearby, his expression unreadable as always. "He was found unconscious in the corridor," he informed Madam Pomfrey, his voice devoid of emotion.

Madam Pomfrey's disapproval was evident as she tsked. "You should have brought him here immediately," she scolded Snape, her tone firm and no-nonsense. She then turned her attention back to Dumbledore, her wand emitting soft glows as she cast spells to check for any injuries or magical maladies.

Lost in thought, Dumbledore couldn't shake off the weight of the troubling turn of events. As Madam Pomfrey continued her examination, he couldn't help but lament the loss of the final Horcrux, which would have been a crucial bargaining chip to get close to the Potters. He was sure that even if they tracked down the Horcruxes, they didn't know about the one in Harry's scar.

A profound sense of horror washed over Dumbledore as he contemplated the grim reality that young Harry would have to be sacrificed for the greater good. It was a chilling truth he had long known, but one that never failed to fill him with a profound sense of sorrow and regret. Yet, he understood that it was a necessary sacrifice in the battle against the darkness that threatened to engulf the wizarding world.

Dumbledore knew that Harry's destiny was entwined with the fate of the wizarding world, a destiny that required him to confront Voldemort and, ultimately, to sacrifice himself. It was a burden no child should have to bear, and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for the young boy who had already endured so much.

With a heavy heart, Dumbledore recognized that he needed to mold Harry into a hero who was willing to sacrifice himself for others. It was with this intention that he had crafted an intricate plan, which would have spanned throughout Harry's years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had hoped to guide Harry, to prepare him for the challenges that lay ahead, and to teach him the values of bravery, sacrifice, and love. However, the loss of the final Horcrux disrupted his carefully laid plans, leaving him with a profound sense of uncertainty and concern for Harry's future.

What was happening now was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. A Harry raised by Charlus and Dorea Potter would not be a self-sacrificing hero. Instead, he would be sheltered and protected, shielded from the harsh realities of the world. This realization filled Dumbledore with a deep sense of dread, knowing that Harry's destiny was slipping further from his grasp with each passing moment.

As he was lost in his thoughts, the door to the Hospital wing burst open, and in walked Charlus Potter, looking very much like the man that had been the stuff of nightmares to supporters of Gellert Grindelwald during the war. He was flanked by Arcturus Black, Sirius Black, Alastor Moody, and Benjy Fenwick, all of them looking equally pissed off.

Dumbledore's gaze lifted from the floor to meet Charlus's intense stare. A chill ran down his spine as he saw the fury burning in Charlus' eyes.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Dumbledore demanded, though there was a flicker of apprehension in his voice.

Charlus' voice was cold and hard as he spoke. "We need to talk, Albus. And I suggest you start talking fast."

The tension in the room was palpable as Dumbledore realized the gravity of the situation. He knew that he was about to face a reckoning for his actions and decisions, and the consequences could be dire.

Charlus fixed Dumbledore with a penetrating stare. "Did you know?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence in the room.

Dumbledore attempted to maintain a composed façade, feigning ignorance. "I'm not sure I understand what this is about, Charlus," he replied, his voice calm, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Charlus's expression remained stern, his eyes boring into Dumbledore's. "Don't play games with us, Albus," he retorted sharply. "We know about the Horcruxes, and we know you've been hiding information from us."

The weight of Charlus's accusation hung heavily in the air, and Dumbledore knew that his carefully constructed facade was beginning to crack under the intense scrutiny of those before him.

"Did you know there was a shard of Voldemort's soul in Harry's scar?" Charlus's voice was firm and unwavering, his eyes piercing into Dumbledore's.

Dumbledore's shock was palpable. He never expected anyone but him to know that information. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing to find the right words. "I..." he began, his voice trailing off, his thoughts in disarray.

Charlus' expression hardened as he took in Dumbledore's reaction. His disappointment was evident, but there was no room for hesitation.

"You knew," Charlus stated, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You knew about the Horcruxes. You knew about the danger Voldemort posed. And yet, you chose to keep it from us."

Each word was like a hammer blow, delivered with precision and force. Charlus's anger simmered just beneath the surface, his disappointment palpable.

"We trusted you, Albus," Charlus continued, his voice low and intense. "We trusted you with our lives, with the fate of our world. And you betrayed that trust."

But Charlus wasn't finished. "You had a plan, didn't you, Albus? You wanted Harry to face Voldemort alone, to sacrifice himself for the greater good. But that's not how this ends. Not anymore."

His words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and disappointment. Dumbledore could only watch in silence, knowing that he had a lot to answer for.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation. "I understand your anger," he began, his voice calm and measured. "But you must realize that everything I have done, I have done for the greater good."

Charlus's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into Dumbledore's. "The greater good?" he echoed, his voice laced with incredulity. "Is that what you call it? Sacrificing innocent lives, manipulating destinies, all in the name of some twisted notion of the greater good?"

Dumbledore's gaze faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "I have made difficult choices, yes," he admitted. "But I have always acted with the best interests of the wizarding world in mind."

Arcturus stepped forward, his voice cold and stern. "And what about Harry?" he interjected. "Did you consider his best interests when you decided to keep him in the dark about his own destiny?"

Dumbledore's expression softened, a shadow of regret crossing his features. "I believed it was necessary to protect him," he explained. "To shield him from the burden of his fate until he was ready to face it."

Charlus shook his head, his expression unyielding. "You underestimated him, Albus," he stated firmly. "You underestimated all of us."

Arcturus stepped forward, his voice dripping with accusation. "We know you were more than happy to hide at Hogwarts and do nothing when Grindelwald was out there killing innocents en masse," he accused. "Where was the best interest of the Wizarding World then? You only got up off your arse and defeated Grindelwald because you knew that Charlus and I would have killed him. So, you were saving Grindelwald, the man you loved."

Dumbledore's face paled, realizing the depth of the betrayal felt by those standing before him. The truth of their accusations struck him with the force of a Bludger.

Charlus stepped forward, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "As we speak, the last of the Horcruxes, the one you tried to hide, is being destroyed," he declared, his tone sharp and unforgiving. 

Dumbledore's expression hardened as he processed the implications of Charlus's words. He knew that his carefully constructed plans were unraveling before his eyes, and there was little he could do to stop it.

Dumbledore, trying to salvage the situation, inquired about the Horcrux residing in Harry's scar. "What about the one within Harry himself?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. "There is no way to destroy it other than... killing Harry."

His words hung heavily in the air, each syllable carrying the weight of a terrible truth. Dumbledore's gaze shifted from Charlus to the others, searching for a glimmer of understanding, a sign that they comprehended the severity of their predicament.

Charlus' words hung heavy in the air, the weight of his accusation palpable in the room. "I went to Ammon Raza," he stated firmly, his voice unwavering. "And he managed to extract the soul shard from within Harry."

Dumbledore felt the urge to refute the claim rising within him, but he knew of Ammon Raza's unparalleled knowledge of Dark magic and Soul magic. If Charlus sought Ammon's help, then what he was saying was undoubtedly true.

Dumbledore's silence spoke volumes as the realization settled in. His habit of keeping crucial information to himself had cost him dearly, and now the consequences of his actions were laid bare before him.

Charlus's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. "I will no longer tolerate your interference in Harry's life. You have no right," he declared, his tone unwavering and resolute.

Arcturus stepped forward, his eyes narrowed with a steely resolve. "If you try to meddle in Harry's life again, the Legion will declare war on you, and you should know very well how we deal with our enemies," he warned, his voice laced with a chilling certainty. "If you don't know, I suggest you take a trip to Nurmengard and find out what we did to Gellert."

Dumbledore's expression remained inscrutable, though a flicker of unease crossed his features. He knew the Legion's reputation, and the thought of facing their wrath was a sobering one. With a silent nod, he acknowledged the seriousness of the situation, realizing that he had overstepped his bounds and that his actions had consequences far beyond what he had anticipated.

As the group turned to leave, Arcturus paused, his gaze landing on Severus Snape, who stood nearby, watching the confrontation unfold. With a smirk, Arcturus addressed him, "Snape, did you enjoy the little twist Charlus gave to your spell?" 

Snape's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes. He knew exactly what Arcturus was referring to—the small yet significant change Charlus had made to a spell that Snape had thought uniquely his own. It was a subtle reminder of the Potters' prowess and a hint that their knowledge and skills ran deeper than he had presumed. The spell in question was 'Sectumsempra,' a dark and deadly curse Snape had created during his fifth year at Hogwarts and had discreetly taught to his Death Eater friends.

The spell had caught on among the Death Eaters because it lacerated the target and caused severe hemorrhaging, making it particularly brutal in combat. Only Snape knew the counter-curse that allowed the laceration to be healed, giving him a unique edge and a twisted sense of pride in his creation.

However, the spell was soon employed by the Legion, with gruesome results. Snape discovered this firsthand when he performed the counter-curse on a Death Eater who had been lacerated by the spell, only for the man to die slowly, screaming until the last second. The spell had been modified so that when the counter-curse was performed, instead of healing, the internal organs would begin to liquefy, slowly and painfully.

Snape's horror was palpable as he watched the agonizing demise of the Death Eater, realizing that the Legion had taken his creation and turned it into something even more monstrous. The Death Eater's screams echoed in Snape's ears long after the man's death, a chilling reminder of the brutal efficiency and merciless nature of the Legion's tactics. This perverse modification of his spell was a stark warning to anyone who dared to oppose them: not only would they face the devastating effects of the curse, but even the attempt to heal it would bring about a slow, excruciating death.

Without waiting for a response, Arcturus turned and followed the others out of the hospital wing, leaving Snape to ponder the implications. The knowledge that the Potters could modify his spell so precisely unsettled him, raising questions about what else they might be capable of. Snape's mind raced with possibilities and the potential consequences of this revelation, realizing that he had underestimated his adversaries.

Dumbledore, watching the group leave, felt the weight of his isolation more acutely than ever. The Potters, and the Legion itself, were now firmly set against him, and the realization that his plans were unraveling left him with a sense of impending doom. He knew that any further attempts to control or guide Harry would be met with fierce resistance, and the path ahead seemed more uncertain than ever.

—

In a warmly lit parlor at the Potter Estate, four formidable women sat together, their conversation flowing with the ease of old friends reunited. Minerva McGonagall, Dorea Potter, Melania Black, and Augusta Longbottom, known in their school days as Minnie, Dori, Mel, and Gussie, were reminiscing about their shared past at Hogwarts.

Melania, her voice carrying a hint of pride, recounted the recent events. "You won't believe it, Dori, Gussie," she began, her eyes glinting with admiration. "Minerva here crossed wands with Dumbledore himself. She stunned him and took the final Horcrux. It was an act of sheer bravery and loyalty to the Legion."

Dorea, her eyes widening in surprise, looked at Minerva with a mixture of newfound respect and lingering anger. "Is that true, Minnie?" she asked, her voice softer than usual. "I have to admit, I've been furious with you for not stopping Dumbledore from leaving Harry with those awful Dursleys."

Augusta, always the practical one, nodded in agreement. "You know how much it hurt us, Minerva. But this... this is something else entirely. Standing up to Dumbledore? That takes guts."

Minerva, feeling a mix of relief and guilt, met their gazes. "I know I failed Harry back then. I regret it every day. But I couldn't let Dumbledore keep manipulating things for his own ends. Harry deserves better, and I've finally done something to make up for my past mistakes."

Dorea sighed, her expression softening. "We were so close once, the four of us. And then... life happened. But what you did, Minnie, it's brought us a step closer to righting the wrongs. Thank you."

Melania added, "We were always stronger together, weren't we? The days when we ruled the school as Minnie, Dori, Mel, and Gussie seem so far away, but the bond remains."

Augusta smiled, a rare warmth in her stern demeanor. "We have a chance now, thanks to all of us working together. Let's not waste it."

The four women sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history and the hope for the future filling the room. Their reunion was more than a mere meeting; it was a renewal of their bond and a promise to protect the ones they loved, no matter the cost.

—

Back at Blackmoor, Ammon prepared for the ritual to destroy the final Horcrux. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as everyone gathered around. Ammon meticulously arranged the necessary ingredients and tools, his movements precise and deliberate.

"Everyone, stand back," Ammon instructed, his voice steady and calm. "This process is delicate, and I need complete concentration."

The room fell silent as Ammon began the incantation. He held the diadem, the final Horcrux, in his hands. Dark magic radiated from the object, a palpable malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of those present. Ammon's voice grew louder, more forceful, as he chanted the ancient spell designed to break the enchantment binding Voldemort's soul to the diadem.

A blinding light filled the room, and the diadem shook violently. The air crackled with energy, and a high-pitched scream emanated from the Horcrux as the soul fragment resisted destruction. Ammon's grip tightened, his focus unwavering. With a final, powerful word, the light intensified, and then, with a deafening crack, the diadem shattered into pieces.

The scream ceased abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence. The oppressive presence of dark magic lifted, leaving the room feeling lighter, as if a great weight had been removed. Ammon lowered his hands, a look of relief crossing his face.

"It's done," he announced, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "The final Horcrux is destroyed. Voldemort is now vulnerable."

The room erupted into a mix of relieved sighs and triumphant smiles. Charlus, Arcturus, Sirius, Benjy, and Moody exchanged looks of determination and satisfaction. They had succeeded in their quest to eliminate Voldemort's Horcruxes, bringing them one step closer to ending his reign of terror once and for all.

—

In the cozy parlor of the Potter Estate, Dorea, Augusta, Melania, and Minerva sat engaged in a deep conversation about the recent events and the next steps in their fight against Voldemort. Their voices were low, but the gravity of their discussion was clear.

Unbeknownst to them, Harry and Neville, driven by curiosity and the natural inclination of children to explore, had crept close to the door, listening intently. They had been playing nearby when snippets of the conversation caught their attention, and they couldn't resist the urge to eavesdrop.

Harry leaned closer to Neville, whispering, "Do you think they're talking about the bad guy everyone's so worried about?"

Neville nodded, his eyes wide. "I think so. We shouldn't be here, Harry. If they catch us..."

At that moment, Dorea's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of movement outside the door. "Hadrian James Potter and Neville Longbottom, what do you think you're doing?" she called out, her tone a mix of sternness and affection.

Harry and Neville froze, their faces turning red as they were caught. They sheepishly stepped into the room, their heads hung low.

"We're sorry," Harry mumbled, looking up at his grandmother with wide, guilty eyes.

Neville added, "We didn't mean to eavesdrop. We were just curious."

Dorea sighed, her expression softening. "Curiosity is natural, especially for young boys like yourselves. But there are some things you're not ready to hear yet."

Augusta gave her grandson a gentle smile. "You both need to trust that we're doing everything we can to keep you safe."

Melania nodded in agreement. "There's a lot happening, but we'll tell you what you need to know when the time is right."

Minerva looked at them kindly. "For now, why don't you both go play? We'll talk more later."

Harry and Neville exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident. They had never met Minerva McGonagall before and were unsure of who she was or why she was there.

Neville was the first to speak up, his voice hesitant. "Who are you?"

Minerva's stern expression softened into a gentle smile. "I'm Minerva McGonagall, an old friend of your family," she explained, her tone warm and reassuring. "I teach at Hogwarts, the school you'll be attending when you're older."

Harry, still holding onto a bit of curiosity, asked, "Why are you here now?"

Minerva's eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement. "I'm here to help your family with something very important," she replied. "But for now, you two should go enjoy yourselves. There will be plenty of time for questions later."

With a final nod from Dorea, Harry and Neville reluctantly left the room, their minds buzzing with questions and curiosity about the stern but kind woman who had just arrived.

As the door closed behind them, Dorea shook her head with a small smile. "Those two are going to be quite the handful."

Melania chuckled. "They're just like their fathers—brave and curious. Let's hope they channel that curiosity in the right ways."

Minerva turned back to the group. "Now, where were we?"

Dorea's expression grew serious again. "We were discussing how to protect Harry and the others now that Voldemort's Horcruxes are destroyed."

As the conversation resumed, the women knew they had to be more vigilant. The stakes were higher than ever, and they had to ensure the next generation would grow up safe and strong, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

---

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