34 Interlude
(I'm back.)
"Things changed.' Magnus thought, embarking the Hogwarts express for yet another year.
He watched the crowd of adults, lingering behind the station to see their children off. Saw them chatter and reminisce of days gone, when they too were young and foolish and so easily awed by marvelous castles and eccentric teachers.
Every year he ignored the overly noisy students, the well meaning but unwelcome calls of those who fancied themselves friends of the most promising wizard of their generation. Every year he'd leave muggle London with a light heart, for he had no home to miss and nobody to see him off.
Until now.
Away he could see Sirius, dressed in an all black muggle suit adorned with their House's crest. The older wizard took a liking to modern fashion, and thoroughly enjoyed spitting on the bigots of the world by wearing Britain's most infamous house words into an item of muggle clothing.
He looked unsure, trying and failing to act like an adult. Sirius wanted to be a good parent for him, something he himself never had.
He wasn't good at it, but he tried, and Magnus did not have it in him to deny such good intentions.
Their situation was hardly normal, but the two of them agreed to make the most of it. So what if they acted more like close friends than father and son?
The Tonks, unlike their cousin, looked in their element.
Andromeda was determined to make up for the two years of lone travel he'd experienced, waving and smiling each time he looked at her. She went all out, smothering hugs and teary eyes and attempting to homeschool him before reaching King Cross Stations.
Ted likewise took the opportunity to use his car. He wanted Magnus to have the full 'Muggleborn Experience', dragging a Nymphadora on rest day out of her couch and ice cream boxes for the occasion.
Magnus wasn't sure when and how they all became so close, nor did he particularly care. He liked it, and it was enough.
Embarrassment be damned.
The boy waved back, a small smile on his face. He looked forward to a boring year, with no life threatening danger and troublesome situation. A year of pure, blissful learning and more importantly...Magic.
Sirius was free, Wormtail imprisoned and the minister as unpopular as ever.
The Dursleys received a visit and a warning from a pissed off ex-convict, their nephew stories and a proper room in the house. Sirius would take him, but he even he knew he wasn't fit to care for a child.
Magnus didn't count, he was disturbingly low maintenance.
His third year in Hogwarts was all set, life was good.
"Are you done ogling my door, Potter?" He said, sensing a familiar magic close by.
An overly girly scream was let out, but it was quickly muffled. Soon enough, the door was opened and three highly troublesome teenagers made their way in.
A tall redhead, short four eyes, and bushy haired rabbit.
"It isn't your door." Said one Hermione Granger, grown and not looking the slightest bit like Emma Watson. "The Hogwarts express is a shared property of the British Ministry for Magic and the Hogwarts school board. That includes every window, wheel and door. Actually, it's very interesting since there was once a debate over the inclusion of…."
For the sake of everyone's increasing boredom, Ronald elbowed her. Perhaps Magnus was too quick to judge him?
"Sorry…" she mumbled, growing slighter redder. "I might've gone a little bit off track."
"Just a little?" Ron snickered, earning himself a stomp on the foot and the promise of a future berating.
Why he accepted ill treatment from his so-called friend was beyond Magnus's comprehension. Such things can be entertaining in fictional works, sometimes. But in the real world, it took a special kind of weakness and lack of self-esteem to just swallow your pride.
Magnus added Soy Boy to the list of adjectives attached to Ronald Billius Weasley.
"What did you want?" He asked, knowing full well he'd quickly lose patience.
Another series of unsure looks and hushed whispers later, the boy who lived finally remembered he possessed a hopefully working pair of testicules and looked him in the eyes.
"We need your help to save a friend." He said, doing his best to sound confident.
"Save your friend…" Magnus raised a brow, now that was something new. New and unexpected, which in his situation only meant one thing.
Butterfly Effect.
It didn't make any sense, he had done his best to solve every single major issue and plot point so far. The diary and locket had been sent to Dumbeldore to figure out, Sirius had been freed and Pettigrew captured.
Soon enough he'd arrange for the Gaunt's shack to get very intimate with the horcrux destroying flames of Fiendfyre, his father was currently working with the goblins on the dissolution of Bellatrix's marriage to seize the Hufflepuff cup as replacement for her dowry.
The diadem would be destroyed swiftly, or at least sent to Dumbeldore. Leaving only Harrymort and Nagini behind, both of which can be taken care of by the powers that be.
"Explain." He said, schooling his features. "Now."
. . .
Deep in Albanian forests, a wretched being haunted the woods. Each breathless second felt like agony, his thoughts were muddied and strength wavering.
It did nothing, for there was nothing it could do.
It wanted to scream, but it couldn't. It wanted to rage, but it couldn't. It wanted to cry and beg, but there was no mercy it's kind.
The disembodied wraith of Lord Voldemort lingered, sundered by his most recent failure.
It didn't know what happened, and was now too diminished to dare venture out and seek answers. One day, it was feasting on a nexus of dark forces, growing stronger as it schemed and planned its return.
Quicker than death it came, the pain. Pure, overwhelming pain was felt across its spirit. Like a shard of its very soul, shattered as it was, had been siphoned out of its magic and left to rot.
The soul shard was desperate to try and recover what it lost, draining its sister horcruxes of their essence. Even now, as it floated aimlessly, weaker than the most pathetic ghost, it could feel the damned fragment cannibalizing what remained of his soul and magic.
Alas, it was in vain.
In one of its few moments of clarity, a single name resonated through its mind. It was cast in the wind, unheard and forgotten like most desperate curses.
"Dumbledore."
. . .
The trial of Sirius Black led to many cases being reopened, and the auror having more freedom to do their actual job instead of being poorly funded token wands for the ministry.
Indeed, one Cornelius Fudge was in a very precarious position. The Black incident was something big, big enough to end more than one career if he did not play his cards right.
The Auror Force wants more budget? Of course.
Doubt being cast on upstanding members of society? Investigate, Madam Bones.
The British People wanted to have their cocks sucked? Fudge would kneel down all night long, bad knees be damned.
Throwing Barty Crouch Senior in Azkaban had been nothing but a formality, putting him in the same cell as the son he loathed so much had been a pleasure.
He did cause all this madness, after all.
"The Triwizard Tournament." He read the proposition of one Ludo Bagman.
It was good, his people liked sports. They liked it more when it was in their territory, and absolutely adored it when it involved serious maiming and an absurdly high death toll.
Quidditch was great, but this...this might just win him another election.
"Dolores." He called his undersecretary, a yes woman with a miles wide vicious streak and a very questionable fashion sense.
