I was finally able to finish a short update, despite my Muse refusing to cooperate. I need a beta for this part.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR and the various publishers. I make no money from this story. It's written with no commercial aims in mind.
Chapter 9: Ghosts from a future past
Joan D'Arc Hospital
"Physically, she'll make a full recovery. We've started her on a potions regiment which will have her on her feet within the week." Doctor Felix Duboua explained. "However, mentally..." He shrugged helplessly. "That's not my department. In a few days, when your grand daughter is better, a Mind Healer will examine her to determine what additional help will be needed."
"I see." Greene muttered.
"There is still some paperwork you need to sign up, but first, the people from the Directorate are here."
"Well, let's not leave them waiting." The Sergeant stood up.
Explaining the situation to the French law enforcement, hat was going to be fun…
"Let me get this straight..." Sergeant Jean Lecroft stared at the damn Englishman across the table. "Your grand daughter was kidnapped by parties unknown weeks ago. Our counterparts across the channel were unable to do anything to find her. Then you get a call, from an unknown person, who claimed to have information about her whereabouts. Then you two make an illegal raid on a local Noble's residence, find your grand kid in the basement in the condition she was delivered to this hospital and make you way out, before fleeing the country, using an unregistered portkey." Jean shook her head. "It's just a coincidence that a manor in the same area went up in flames with the inhabitants and few of their guests inside..."
"I'm a Squib." Greene stated the obvious.
"We noticed. Wait here." The two agents left the room.
"The serum confirmed it." Elan Lomar, Jean's partner stated.
"The only thing we might charge him is illegal entry in our country." Jean muttered. "The girl was stunned during the transit so she's safe from any possible prosecution. Hell, considering what she's been through, she's eligible for Elysium."
"However, if we put their names in an official report, it's liable to leak to our counterparts across the pond and they'll start screaming for extradition." Elan added helpfully.
"Which will endanger both of our guests." The Sergeant grumbled. There wasn't much love lost between the French Magical Security services and their counterpart in the not so united magical kingdom across the channel.
"We need to kick it upstairs. This is going to become political problem, too."
"Merde. You know, things like this make me glad that we beheaded most of our Magical Aristocracy during the revolution." Jean shook her head. "I'll make the call."
November 4, 1995
"You're a slave driver!" Rose moaned from the sofa.
"You will be facing a pissed off, nesting mother dragon in couple of weeks." Harry countered. Without the benefit of years of magical training too. "Anyway, you're doing great." He smiled at his little sister.
"I'm not feeling like it." The girl pouted.
"It's been just a couple of days. Give it a bit of time." He didn't add that the fact that Rose was still conscious after the day's fun and games was a big red spot in her record.
Rose growled, making Harry smirk at her.
"What about Sirius?" She changed the topic. "I'm sure he's going mental."
"Probably. Padfoot will be climbing the walls by now, I'm sure of it." Harry chuckled at the thought. Especially if the old man had filled his head with conjectures and lies. "I'll arrange a meeting with him in a few days."
"Go get a shower, I'll make dinner."
"Blaze. Any progress?"
"We'll have twelve mercs on our payroll by the end of the week with another dozen a few days later."
"Good. How are we property wise? In the non-magical world I mean."
"I'll be visiting various warehouses we could either buy out or rent for conversion in production facilities on Monday. You'll have to check up a few buildings that might be appropriate for corporate HQ."
"I'll try arranging a meeting with Sirius tomorrow then. If he can be trusted this time around, I'll leave Rouse with him. She'll appreciate spending time with him and he probably can teach her a trick or two too."
"Well, he was a decent Auror before he decided to be an idiot and ended in Azkaban. At least back home."
"Yeah. This world is so similar..." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure that when some unexpected difference crops up, its going to bite us in the ass."
"With our luck? I'm surprised that it hasn't happened already."
"How's mum? I'm already regretting that we decided not to keep her here."
"And allow healers who might either nose around or get their minds read around us? I want her close as much as you, Harry." Blaze frowned. While their mother did spent a few hours in the apartment, in which both of them cast all detection and diagnostic spells they knew, the time travelers ultimately decided that it would be better that she was taken care of in a different property. Especially when they found out that she actually needed at least semi-regular medical attention.
The fact that the curse that put her out wasn't something they were familiar with was irritating to say at least. It had to be some kind of obscure family magic, which meant that if they wanted her to recover any time soon, they needed the bastard who cursed her. Alive.
"On the bright side, there's some good news." Harry grinned and returned his attention to the dish he was cooking. "Moony has been speaking with various werewolves in his spare time. So far most of them are receptive on the idea of cheap Wolfsbane potions."
"Good. Most of them might be neutral this time around."
"Yep. We might even get some on our side."
"How's Daph and the future in-laws?"
"We're invited to dinner tomorrow. Lord Greengrass is still in the dog house as you can expect."
"You're dancing around the important question."
Harry sighed. "Daphne is still being an Ice Queen. I'm entertaining thoughts of slaughtering most of Slytherin House once we're in Hogwarts."
"Probably worse. By all accounts, with a few notable exceptions, it's a pit of treachery spawning junior Deadmunchers left and right."
"Dumbledore… What the hell is Snape doing anyway?!"
"Probably being a pain in everyone's ass. It's Severus, without adult supervision, what did you expect?"
"Dunno. For this world to be saner?"
"We could never be that lucky, mate. Now way in hell."
November 4, 1995
"That's unexpected." Lucius Malfoy muttered after he finished reading the letter in his hands. He left the parchment lay in the middle of his desk and reached for the half drunk glass of Firewhiskey he'd been sipping from, while handling his House's affairs.
For a moment, Lucius let his eyes wander over his tastefully decorated study, while his mind was busy digesting the information he just read. The expensive wood paneling, ancient paintings and antique furniture that surrounded him did little more than give him a measure of comfort. That was something he sorely needed this evening.
Malfoy's eyes landed on the letter he just read.
Crabe's home was leveled by what his contacts in the DMLE believed to be Fiendfyre. With a few of his allies inside too. A decade and half ago, the conclusion would have been simple – the Dark Lord had gotten displeased with them and cleaned up house.
The lack of Dark Mark and the fact that very few of the free "former" Death Eaters would dare make any overt move without Lucius' input put that idea to the rest. On the other hand… Malfoy glanced at his arm, where his Mark was getting darker by the day. Somehow the Dark Lord had survived and was slowly regaining his strength. The very fact that he hadn't been contacted yet was disturbing.
Yet… If Voldemort was behind the attack, he would have made it clear that it was an expression of his displeasure at some of his followers. Simply leveling the place and not taking credit for the slaughter, that simply wasn't like the Dark Lord.
Lucius sighed. He had really hoped to be free, so he can consolidate his own power instead of being a servant to even someone like Voldemort. With this option now obviously out, he needed to do something to ensure his return in the Dark Lord's good graces. The alternative could very well be very painful and ultimately fatal.
Malfoy summoned his wand from its holster, which incidentally was Auror grade and supposedly illegal for civilians to use, and started summoning some special pieces of parchment. It was coated with special potion that would turn it into unrecoverable ash if a charm laid on it didn't recognize its intended recipient or if someone tried to tamper with the spellwork.
Then Lucius busied himself writing instructions and summons to some of his old war acquaintances. The stunt they pulled during the Quidditch world cup was a nice beginning, but nothing that would impress their Lord and Master. He needed to think about something grander.
Like finally dealing with that irritating Potter brat and her older brother, who should have stayed dead.
Malfoy could scarcely believe that the damn half-blood had the gall to claim the Slytherin's Lordship of all things. That was a state of affairs that should be made right, soon. Especially when it was expected that Rose Potter wouldn't be protected by Hogwart's wards and Dumbledore until she returned to school for the first task of the tournament.
He needed to locate the Potters, either at their home or preferably when they were out so the nuisances could be dealt with. Permanently.
Lucius was determined to ensure that this time they would stay dead.
The Dark Lord, who was currently residing withing a small, very ugly even by his standards and exceedingly weak homunculus, had a terrible smile on his face.
Currently Voldemort was carted around by one of the few active Inferi in his current hideout, which were all under his direct mental control. His beautiful familiar was napping in the next room, coiled in front of a burning fireplace, while he was busy preparing his masterstroke.
This lair, which was protected by extensive and very deadly wards as well as the Fidelus charm, was one of the cornerstones for his future conquest of the world, though right now he aimed considerably lower.
First he needed a real power so he could in fact start living again instead existing in his current crippled state. The magnificent part of the plan to restore himself was that included the death of Rose Potter by his own hand right after he regained his body and summoned his minions.
Then he was going to take Wizarding Britain by storm, while his armies of Inferi were being build.
He grinned as a pair of animated dead were busy painting a rune cluster on the chest of a fresh corpse. The bloody muggle would find much more use in death than it could have ever had in life.
After all, serving Lord Voldemort was unrivaled honor.
The Dark Lord frowned when the wards were tripped by the arrival of a certain rat. The very fact that only a handful of his followers had come searching for him, one of them being Pettigrew of all people, was vexing. At least Crouch Junior was competent…
He continued to watch his undead slaves work, until he felt the rat enter his presence.
"Pettigrew..." The Dark Lord hissed. "Report." Voldemort narrowed his eyes when instead of answering right away, the rat folded on himself, shacking with almost witless terror.
That meant another setback, something that was occurring quite often as of late.
It was almost always Potter or Dumbledore's fault.
"Crucio!" Voldemort brandished his wand and spat the curse with a relish. The throat rendering screams were music to his ears.
"Report!" The Dark Lord snapped once he released the Unforgivable.
Merlin's hairy balls, there was another screw up, Voldemort just knew it.
"Pettigrew, start speaking before I lose my patience!" The Dark Lord snapped at his most incompetent minion.
"Of course it's her." Voldemort muttered. "What did the insufferable brat did this time!"
"It's the other one!" The rat whimpered, making his master frown.
"What did you do? Got drunk on Firewhiskey or something? Crucio! I personally saw to the dead of the rest of the Potters! I killed most of them myself! Speak, damn you!"
"Harry Potter! He's back! He didn't die!"
"What's that nonsense! I hit him with the Killing Curse! He's been dead since eighty one! Crucio! Start making sense!"
"It's all in the paper!" Pettigrew whimpered from the dirty floor.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the paper that the rat managed to produce from under his robe and directed the Inferi holding him to collect it.
One look at the front page of the Prophet had him spluttering with rage. There was a large picture of someone a bit older than James Potter entering in the Wizengamot Chambers before taking up his Lordships… Including that of Slytherin…
"Potter! Damn your whole accursed family! Crucio! Merlin shivered balls! Blood-Traitors! Crucio!"
Once he had somewhat calmed down, Voldemort closed his eyes and started plotting. He needed more information to decide how to deal with this complication.
What was with the Potters and not staying dead, damn them?!
It was time to call on some additional minions and take a more active hand in the current events than the original plan called for.