INNOVATOR Chapter 30: The Boy-Who-Lived

Author's Note: Hello there, this is chapter 30 of INNOVATOR. I really hope you will like it.

Also, many thanks and congratulations to our first seven holders of the Guildmaster tier: Camo, I am Lord Dems, StormFox, RyanMK666, Lyrical, Tyler and HadesReynes! 😇🥰

Now, without any further ado....Let's begin!

Author Out!

“I am Talking.” 

‘I am Thinking’

Spells

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Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

~John Dalberg-Acton
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INNOVATOR

-Dev Sagittarius Black

~~Chapter 30: The Boy-Who-Lived~~

. 

Rapid footsteps echoed through the walls of the decorated hallway as the man hurried past the uniformed guards, who stood on either side at regular intervals. The man was in a hurry as he clutched the newspaper tighter in his right hand, an expression of pure fear etched on his aged face. He ignored all the guards that bowed to him; after all, the matter at hand was much more important.  

The man reached the guards, who stood at the large ornate doors that had various runes etched on them, along with several gems that pulsed with energy.  

“Mr. Hammock?” One of the guards asked him, “Are you alright, sir? You look as if you ran a marathon or something to reach Master Armstrong.”  

Hammock shook his head as he waved the newspaper in his hand, “Open the doors, guard! Master needs to see this as soon as possible!”   

“We can’t let you inside, sir.” The guard stopped him once more. “Master is breaking his fast with his family, and you know very well how he doesn’t want to be disturbed when he’s spending time with his family.”  

“Not unless his seat is concerned, he’s not.” Hammock grumbled, “Tell him I am here and that there is some concerning news regarding his seat on The Council; he’ll find some time.”  

The guard eyed Hammock with suspicion before he placed his hand on the large Ruby that was on the door. The Ruby glowed briefly before there was a soft click sound, and the door slowly opened a bit. 

“Stay here, Mr. Hammock.” The guard opened the door and went inside it, while Hammock started pacing up and down the large area in front of the wooden doors. His rapid footsteps made a clacking sound every time his boots hit the white marble floor beneath him. 

‘Master really needs to see this….I am sure he’s still unaware of the misfortune that’s about to hit his seat.’ Hammock thought as he pulled a fresh handkerchief and swiped it across his forehead to wipe the sweat droplets that had appeared thanks to the exertion of travelling through the huge mansion.  

It took five more minutes of rapid pacing before the ornamented doors opened, and the guard stood in the doorway and said, “Master is waiting for you, please remove your shoes as well as any other unnecessary artifacts that you might be carrying, or you won’t be able to leave the room alive.”  

The statement was made in such a matter-of-fact manner that if it had been Hammock’s first time, it’d have sent shivers down his spine. But Hammock wasn’t new to the protocols that were enforced when one wanted to meet one of the members of The Council; it was an age-old tradition that had been followed through centuries.  

The doors lead to a warm, multi-story hall that had a huge carpeted staircase that connected the floors, as well as multiple rooms that were present on each floor. The walls hoisted a plethora of exquisite items, like antique weapons, including swords and shields, in some places, while others hosted paintings from famous painters throughout the golden eras of humanity.  

Hammock ignored the rather gaudy decor as well as the guards that stood at equal intervals near the rooms and instead went straight towards the most decorated door that had golden handles and was glimmering in the dim sunlight that traversed through the large windows. He knew that the master would be inside his study right now, waiting for him.  

After a dull ‘Enter’, that came from behind the decorated door of the master Armstrong’s study, Hammock stepped inside the room. The man of his interest was longing on the fainting couch, quietly examining a diamond in his hand. The rays of winter sun that traversed the room from the large windows softly illuminated the faces of the precious gem.  

“Master Armstrong, I, Hendrik Hammock, bow to your power and prestige and wish for eternal happiness for you so that you can—”  

“Cut it off, Hammock.” Armstrong’s smooth voice interrupted him. “I had to leave my breakfast, the only meal that I share with my family, for this. So I really hope that this is worth it, or you know what I will do with you.”  

Hammock couldn’t help but gulp the nervousness and fear that had sprouted in his heart at the cold edge in Armstrong’s voice and the seriousness with which the man had threatened to take his life. Unfortunately, he knew that the man wasn’t kidding, and if he found the reason to be lacking in severity. 

“I am sorry, Master Armstrong, but this really needs your attention.” Hammock offered the newspaper that he had been clutching in his hand. The front page of The Prophet showed the news that had got Hendrik Hammock’s knickers in a twist. So much so that he had quite literally run from his home to get this news to Master Armstrong as soon as he could.

He-who-must-not-be-named returns! 

Hogsmeade has been attacked by Death Eaters! 

 ~Elizabeth Smith 

Fellow residents of Wizarding Britain, with a heavy heart, I have to inform you that the Dark Lord, who once reigned terror on our lands nearly fourteen years ago, has returned from the dead.  

The dark wizard who had been defeated—and presumed dead—on the night of October 31st, 1981, by the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived, Alandale Henry Potter (14), had been witnessed by residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts as he, along with his army of Death Eaters, were seen attacking the magical village of Hogsmeade yesterday.  

The Death Eaters included the likes of his ardent supporters: Bellatrix LeStrange, Rodolphus, and Rabastan LeStrange, who had been witnessed fighting the students as well as civilians, while the Dark Lord himself fought Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who had come to rescue.  

According to the memories provided, the You-Know-Who had the upper hand when the attack had begun… 

The rest of the news article wasn’t read as Armstrong threw the paper on the carpeted floor of his study. The man’s face was serene, and there wasn’t any visible reaction to the news that had worried the hell out of Hendrik.  

“So he has returned…” Armstrong muttered as he looked at the diamond that he had been inspecting before Hammock had entered the room.  

“Indeed, Master Armstrong.” Hammock bowed. “I don’t know how this happened; last we knew he had died the day that Potter Boy killed him all those years ago. No one knew where he was or what he had been doing. And now…all of a sudden, this..” the man sighed.   

“He's a wizard, Hendrik. A Dark Lord at that; in fact, some even refer to him as one of the darkest that they have witnessed in a century. What do you think he would do if he somehow escaped death?” Armstrong looked at the man; his pale blue eyes glimmered in the dull light. “He waited for his time. Waited in silence for the right moment and the right circumstances to gain enough power so that his return could be as strong as always.”  

“But that’s not good for us, master. Not good at all!” Hendrik shook his head, “Last time it was a fluke that saved us; this time…I don’t even know what will happen if he somehow wins over Wizarding Britain.”  

“Simple, my dear Hendrik, he will come for my seat at The Council, or just like last time, he will ask me to remove Great Britain from my area of control and give it a separate status so that he could join us paragons as an independent ruler of a country.” Armstrong smiled. “Both of which are good ambitions, but I must say that he is as useless as he was last time.”  

“Useless?” Hammock frowned. 

“Indeed. Did you not read the rest of the article, Hendrik?” Armstrong pointed at the photo that was beneath the headline. “Look who has joined the fight; see that third guy? Remember him? I do hope that you do remember our infamous Potter.”  

Hammock picked up the fallen newspaper and looked at the aforementioned photograph that had been taken from the memory of one of the witnesses. The photograph showed Lord Voldemort in the air while Dumbledore was blasting curses from the right, and Harry Potter—who was flying at that time—was attacking him from the left.  

“Harry Potter?” Hammock whispered, “Wasn’t he the one who our men—”  

“Kidnapped and kept in the former Morte Tower’s dungeons? Yes, he is the very same. It is quite unfortunate that we hadn’t known his potential back then; such a gem was with us for three years and no one even knew.” The man sighed. “It pains me every time a gem, no matter whether a human or an object, is not used to its fullest potential.”  

There was a pregnant pause between them; the two men left to their own thoughts as both of them analyzed the situation at hand. They knew that they were at a crossroads right now, and their as well as the Council’s future depended on Voldemort’s choices.  

“What are we going to do now, sir?”  

“Hmm?” Armstrong spoke as if he were roused from a nap. “Now? Nothing, my friend. We don’t have to do anything.”  

“But then—”  

“Voldemort needs us more than we need him, Hendrik. He will need our support to win over a nation like Britain, even more now considering he got defeated quite badly in his first attempt at a power strike.” Armstrong smiled. “You did say that we were being contacted by our representative from Britain, right? Some guy with a French surname?”  

“Lucius Malfoy, sir, yes.” Hammock nodded. “He told me that he had someone who wanted to gain an audience with The Council and that it would be beneficial for us if we supported him. I presume that he wanted to gain an invitation for his master.”  

“Probably, yes. What did you do?”  

“Rejected him, sir.” Hendrik shrugged. “Malfoy didn’t specify who wanted to gain the audience, and why should we support him? So, I sent him the rejection; should I send an invitation now?”  

“No need; he will seek us when he needs us, my friend.” Armstrong stood from the fainting couch, pocketing the diamond that he had been inspecting. “The Council doesn’t need anyone, Hammock. We have stood for millennia; we have always ruled from the shadows, and we will continue to do so no matter how many Dark Lords decide to attain the power that we hold. Always remember that.”   

“If you say so, sir.” Hendrik smirked. “After all, you are the Paragon of Europe, Master Armstrong. Whatever you say will be done.”  

Armstrong just chuckled as the two left his study. 

⁂ 

“Headmaster.” Harry gave a small nod when he reached the old man who was waiting for him by the doors of the hospital wing. “I am sorry for being late; Blaise just wouldn’t shut up about things that I missed, and Fleur wanted me to meet her little sister.”  

Dumbledore gave his trademark grandfatherly smile when he saw Harry acting like an actual fifteen-year-old boy with friends and common problems instead of the famous innovator, Dragon Slayer, and now as the newspapers had decided to call him ‘The Protector of Hogsmeade’.  

Apparently, Harry had even helped the shopkeepers and civilians who lived in Hogsmeade to regain normality in their lives. The boy—along with his godfather Sirius—had opened a small NGO in his second year by the name of ‘Lily Potter Fund for the Needy’. And every year, twenty percent of both of their accounts went to the fund. 

As a result of that, almost all the shops in Hogsmeade had unanimously decided to give free lifetime services to Harry. It wasn’t something that he had asked for, but it was something that he had to accept; otherwise, the shopkeepers would have denied his help.  

“You've been smiling like that for a few minutes, sir,” said Harry. “I don’t know if I should be worried about you or myself.”  

Dumbledore chuckled at that. “There’s no need to worry, Harry.” He smiled and said, “I am just happy about the help that you have given to the residents of Hogsmeade; I am sure that they are quite happy with you.”  

“Yeah, you could say that again.” Harry sighed. “I have received fifty mails from them, as well as about seventy more from people around the world. Good thing I have Sirius to do all the paperwork.”  

The warlock chuckled once more when he imagined the most notorious Black sitting on a chair and doing paperwork. It was certainly something that he would like to see for himself. “So, are you ready for this, Harry?”  

Almost immediately, the boy’s demeanour shifted from tired and annoyed to serious and focused. "Yes, sir. Let’s do this.”  

Dumbledore gave another nod before the two men opened the doors to the hospital wing and ventured inside the building. They located Madam Pomfrey straight away, as she was busy tending to Neville Longbottom’s arm that broke when he was defending a few Gryffindors in the common room.  

The mediwitch turned to look at the newcomers, but before she could open her mouth, she saw the expression on Dumbledore’s face and noticed a similar one on the boy beside him. There was no reason other than the one she knew for both of them to be here. Therefore, she just gave a nod and went towards the staircase.  

When the door to the first floor of the wing opened, Madam Pomfrey guided both of them to a secluded corner that was covered by curtains from all sides and had runes etched on them that emitted a periodic glow to show the health conditions of the patient who was behind said curtains.  

A minute flinch crossed the innovator’s face when he saw the condition of his brother. The boy’s pale face and sunken eyes gave him a rather inhumane look. He looked thinner than before, and his hospital robes covered him loosely. His once bright red hair now looked more like a dull shade of crimson as it fell around his head in a tangled mess.  

“I have been administering him nutrient potions ever since he came here, but no amount of nutrient potions could rival the nourishment one gets from an actual meal.” Pomfrey muttered as she looked at the tied-up boy whom she had been looking after for the past one-and-a-half months.  

“What about these binds?” Harry asked her, “Draught of living death doesn’t let a patient regain his consciousness.”  

“The night of Yule Ball, Alan’s magic started acting in a weird manner. His arms flailed around, and he screamed as if he were in agony.” Pomfrey shuddered a bit when she remembered that night. “He had been placed in a different room before, but then there was a magical backlash, and everything in that room was either crashed or thrown away.”  

“A magical backlash, you say?” Harry asked her once more, “Anything else happened?”  

Pomfrey frowned a bit as she tried to remember the details of that horrific night. “Ah yes! I remember it now!” She cried. “His scar! The scar ruptured, and some black pus came out of it.”  

“Black pus?”  

“Yes, Mr. Potter! Black pus!” She nodded vigorously. “It was late; therefore, I had left him to get a small nap when the wards around his bed were blasted due to magical overload. When I opened the doors, the entire room had been destroyed; even the walls had been burned!” She shook her head. “The only thing left in the room was the bed beneath Alan.”  

“And what about the scar?” Harry pressed; he needed to know what happened to the scar because everything depended on it.  

“Never in my years as a healer had I witnessed such a scar, Potter! Never!” She shook her head. “It had been ruptured, and black pus had poured out of it. There were even thin wisps of smoke that came out of the scar, but you know what was even more weird? When I tried to collect the pus—” 

“It vanished, right?”  

Pomfrey made a face at being interrupted by Harry, but she agreed with him, “Indeed! I was surprised when I saw that the boy’s face was as good as new. Isn't it shocking?”  

The two men looked at each other once more, a silent conversation held between the two mages through their eyes before both of them flicked their wands and traced the faint scar that was present on Alan’s forehead.  

After a tense few minutes, when no one said anything, the wands glowed a faint shade of white, which relieved both the mages.  

“Professor, be ready.” Harry announced, “I am going to administer him the Wiggenweld potion. If it’s Alandale, then you will check on him once more before we open the ropes that are binding him. And if it’s Voldemort, then we will kill him right now.”  

“Harry…”  

“No, sir.” Harry shook his head. “We both did the same tests; it showed that the body contains only one soul. Which means it’s either Alan or Tom. And we already have Tom to worry about; we can’t take risks. It’d be better to snip this issue in the bud stage.”  

Dumbledore sighed; he knew that what the Potter heir was saying was nothing but cruel facts. Still, he didn’t want to be the one who agreed to kill a young boy just because it was needed. Yet, when he thought of it…he knew that it’d be better to do it right now than suffer the consequences later.  

“Alright, Harry,” Dumbledore sighed. “Administer the potion; I will be ready.”  

The innovator nodded and uncorked the Wiggenweld potion before pushing it down his brother’s throat. Once the vial was empty, he kept it aside and waited for the boy to regain consciousness.  

At first, there was a small shiver that travelled through the redhead boy’s body. The first movement was seen in his fingers and toes, which twitched before the fingers of his right hand clenched. The boy took a deep breath before he slowly opened his eyes and looked at the white ceiling above him.  

Without wasting another moment, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the scar once more and repeated the tests, which yielded the same white glow as before.  

“Who are you?” Dumbledore asked the boy, who looked at him with chocolate brown eyes. “”I will count to three, and if you don’t answer, then we will be forced to use Veritaserum on you. Mind you, your mind won’t be able to handle the stress right now.”  

“Wha–” Alan muttered before he clenched his eyes when he felt his throat hurt like hell. He looked towards the other two residents and whispered for water.  

Pomfrey immediately flicked her wand, and they saw the boy sigh in relief. “This should help you for now. Now, answer the Headmaster.”  

Alandale blinked a bit as he tried to assess the situation that he had found himself in. It was a rather weird situation because he was tied to a stiff bed, and there were three people who were glaring daggers at him. What was even weirder was that two out of the three were Albus Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey.  

“Hea-Headmaster?” Alan mumbled, “What happened? Why are you asking me who I—” But before he could say anything else, a sudden influx of memories happened, and he clenched his teeth to stop himself from screaming loudly.  

“ALAN!” “POTTER!” Both Dumbledore and Pomfrey cried simultaneously. But before either of them could move, Harry pulled both of them back.  

“Don’t go near him!” Harry shouted, “There’s a huge chance that this might be Tom’s act to get you to release him; don’t fall for it.”  

Dumbledore tried to reason with the teen’s logic, but even he had to admit that he wouldn’t put it past his former student to pull off such an insidious trick.  

They watched as Alan clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth together as a drop of tear streamed down the side of his face. After one minute, the boy calmed down a bit and took a few deep breaths. He shook his head quite violently and then slowly opened his teary eyes. 

The first person he looked at was his brother, Harry Potter, who was glaring at him with his wand ready. The boy didn’t care about anything at that time and only uttered one word. 

“Why?”  

Harry frowned at the response that he received from the younger Potter: “Who are you? And what did you mean?” 

“Why did you run away that day, Harry?” The boy-who-lived repeated. “I know you remember everything. You are the gifted one amongst us; you always used to say that you remember everything.” He shook his head. “All I want to know is…why did you run away from me that day in Diagon Alley? Why didn’t you slap me right then and tell me that you…you were alive? Why Harry?”  

Harry, on the other hand, didn’t know what to say; out of all the things that his brother could’ve said upon waking up, this was the least expected one. He of course knew what his brother was referring to; it was the day when he had escaped the Morte Tower and met Alan in the ice cream shop.  

“How do you remember that?” Harry frowned. “Like you just said, among the two of us, I am the gifted one. Therefore, it doesn’t make any sense for you to suddenly remember something that happened almost a decade ago. Not when you didn’t remember it before.” 

“When you fed me the Draught that night after your duel in the chamber, I was sent to a weird place that contained all my memories. I even met You-know-Who there.” He saw their eyes widen. “We had a duel of sorts? I don’t know what to call it. I defeated him by the way; isn’t that exciting?!” He asked gleefully but made a face when no one congratulated him.  

“You fought Voldemort in your mindscape?” Dumbledore asked the boy, who nodded. “And what happened after that? Did you meet him again? Did he say something?”  

“He vanished.” Alan shrugged. “And then I was left there for some time before you pulled me back from—what did you call it again?”  

“Mindscape.” The old man replied, “So you fought and defeated Tom in your mindscape, and he never returned after that?”  

“No, sir. But since I was left all alone in my mindscape with nothing but my memories, I started to watch them one-by-one.” He looked at Harry and said, “That’s how I know that it was you who met me that day in the ice cream parlor." What I don’t know is why you didn’t reveal yourself. And…where did you get all those cuts from?”  

Harry frowned for a moment before he flicked his wand and released his brother from the binds. “We will talk about this later; I will come see you tomorrow for this.” Harry looked at Dumbledore and said, “Professor, our work here is done. Somehow, Alan has defeated Voldemort, so if you have destroyed the others, then there’s only one left.”  

Dumbledore nodded. “I have a few places where I think he might’ve hidden it. I will try to track it down, and if I find its location, then I will ask you to accompany me.”  

“Sure, sir.” Harry agreed. “Now, I will have to ask your permission to leave the grounds for two hours, sir. I had promised my Guildmaster that I would get my health check-ups done the moment I was free.”  

And with that, the Innovator left the room. Dumbledore, on the other hand, smiled at the redhead boy before he took the chair beside him. He was happy that the boy had somehow done the unthinkable, and they were a step closer to defeating Tom once and for all. 

⁂ 

The clacking of boots, the dim flickering light from the dungeon torches, and the dungeon cell that smelled of dead rats and filth. It all gave him a sense of déjà vu, and this time it wasn’t a good feeling because Lucius knew that it was time for his suffering to begin.  

As predicted, the clacking stopped right in front of his cells, just past the thick iron bars where a pair of shiny boots came into his view. He looked up and witnessed the gleeful face of his tormentor, Sirius Black.  

“Ahoy, old friend!” Sirius greeted, “I hope your stay isn’t too uncomfortable and you are receiving everything?”  

Lucius didn’t say anything; he knew that the Black Lord was doing this just to get under his skin. It had been three days since he had been brought here, and not even a single news of the outside world. How?! How was that even possible?! He knew that even his Lord needed him because he was the only one who could help him get an audience with The Council.  

Then why hadn’t anyone even tried to search for him?  

“Silence is another way of agreeing, Malfoy,” Sirius smirked. “Well, I really would like to know how you are, because today is a special day. Do you want to know why?”  

“Why are you doing this, Black?” Malfoy growled. “What are you even getting from all this?”  

“Ah..the same old questions again.” Sirius sighed. “Don’t you lot get bored of repeating the same things? Your master, my dearest mother, my sweet cousin Bella…everyone just asks the same stupid questions repeatedly.”  

“And yet you don’t answer it.” Malfoy smirked, “You know that you don’t really have an answer to these. I wasn’t someone who you could have caught, and this is the only way that you somehow got your hands on me. This is the only reason, isn’t it? And now you’re hoping that I will divulge the secrets of my master.”  

“Hmmm…nah.” Sirius shrugged. “You were half correct, to the point where you said this was one of the ways to get you. It was easy, and I had wanted you for quite some time because my employer had requested you. Why am I keeping you here? That’s not because I want Voldemort’s secret; it’s more because my dearest employer wants you alive. He says he has some old grudge.”  

Malfoy frowned at that. This was unlike the Sirius he knew—the one he knew would have straightaway given him to Dumbledore or Alastor Moody, where they would’ve tried to get his secrets before he would have escaped them. But this new Sirius was keeping him alive because his employer had a grudge?  

“And who is your employer?” The blonde asked. “Are you going to tell me, or is this another one of the ‘idiotic’ questions that I repeat?”  

“Well, yeah..it is.” Sirius nodded. “But! Today, you will get that answer! Remember when I said that today was special? It’s because today my employer will meet you.”  

Lucius frowned a bit; he would freely admit that he was indeed quite curious as to who was rich or powerful enough to employ the House of Black in such a petty business of kidnapping. Along with that, he was also curious about the ‘Old Grudge’ that the man held against him; maybe he would be able to offer something in return for his freedom?  

After all, Black did say that the man wanted him alive.  

“Who is it?”  

“That would be me.” 

In the doorway of his cell, the Malfoy Lord saw the one person that he never wanted to see in his life ever again. The one man who he had been avoiding since the last time he had seen him when he somehow haggled a deal to spare his and his children’s lives. The one man who scared him the same, if not more than his own master. 

Harry Potter.  

“Hello, Malfoy.” Harry smiled. “I really hope that you had your fun, because game time is over.” He snapped his fingers, and the door to the cell opened.  

“P-Potter?!” Lucius stammered. “What are you doing here? Black! What is the meaning of this?! Yo-You said that your—” 

“Employer wanted you? Well, newsflash, idiot, I’ve been employed as my godson’s PA for four years now. Quite a good job, actually; I just don’t like writing letters. Harry…”  

“Not now, Sirius; right now, I am here for a small job.” Harry flicked his wand and conjured a chair in front of the fallen Malfoy. “So, I know that you ‘like to keep your card close to your chest while playing the game’, but that bullshit time is over. I need you to answer a few questions.”  

“And what makes you think that I will answer you?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes a bit. “Don’t forget your unbreakable vow, Potter. You can't harm me.”  

Harry shook his head as he tsked in disappointment before he looked back at Sirius and said, “You won; he didn’t answer when requested politely; I miscalculated the amount of fear he had for me.”  

Before Lucius could contemplate what the Godson-Godfather duo was doing and why Sirius Black was dancing like a loon, He felt a warm hand grab his left hand. He looked at Harry, who held his little finger in his hand, and looked at it as if he were contemplating something. 

And then, all of a sudden, pain erupted from his left hand. He looked down and was shocked when he saw that the boy held his little finger, which he threw to the corner of the cell. The place where his fingers used to be bled profusely because of the cut, he screamed in agony.  

“Silencio.” Harry snapped his fingers, and Malfoy's scream vanished. “Now, that was done to tell you that I can, and I will do it again. The vow says I can’t kill you or your brethren; torture is a fair game. So, are you going to answer me now, or should I show you exactly why you were born with ten fingers and ten toes? Which one is it? Blink once if you will answer.”  

Malfoy glared at the monster through his tear-filled eyes. Yes! Monster! The boy wasn’t just a boy; he was a monster! And right now, the monster could do anything he wanted unless it became life-threatening. So the elder wizard did what any sane man would do.  

He blinked.  

“Good.” Harry snapped his fingers, removing the silencing charm. “I just have one question for you right now, Malfoy, and I want you to answer it without hiding anything. Trust me, I will know it because I already know the culprit. Still, I want to hear it from your mouth.”  

“Wh-what do you…want to know?” Lucius gasped, trying his best to ignore the pain that reminded him of his lost body part.  

“How did you enter Hogwarts during the attack?”  

Malfoy went through almost all the scenarios that this could go through, he knew that Harry would only want the name, but that would mean he would be willingly putting his son in front of the monster, something that he really didn’t want to do.  

“Don’t think too much, Lucius.” Harry’s voice broke his reverie. “I already know his name, I just want to hear it from you.” 

“Why?” Lucius asked him, “If you already know who he is, then why are you asking me?”  

“Because I want to know whether the boy responsible for the deaths of thirteen children, not to mention many others who were sent to Pomfrey to get healed,” Harry leaned a bit closer. “I want you to admit that it was indeed him.”  

The silence that followed Harry’s words was suffocating. The prisoner gulped when he saw the raw primal power in the emerald eyes of the innovator. Even Sirius lost his happy-go-lucky persona and instead stood with his hands folded behind his back, waiting for his godson to finish the interrogation.  

“....yes…” Lucius sighed. “It was him. Draco opened the doors from inside the castle as per the orders of my master.”  

Harry leaned back in his chair. He glared at the man before him, his fingers twitching in anger, wanting nothing more than to kill the blonde idiot. But that wouldn’t help him, right? He needed this idiot to know a few more things. And to do that, this idiot needed to remain alive and conscious.  

“How did your son receive those orders?” Harry frowned. “Last I checked, Voldemort didn’t have any method to give such detailed orders to a teenage boy who was still wet behind his ears.”  

“I-” Malfoy stopped himself as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Letters. I used to send him letters with the instructions. He had been instructed to open the gate behind the one-eyed witch’s statue the moment Dark Mark was launched into the sky.”  

Harry hummed, “Alright then, that’s enough for today. Now I just want you to do one more thing.”  

“What?”  

Harry summoned the elder wand and pointed it between Malfoy’s eyes, “Imperio.” The effect was almost instantaneous, as Lucius’ eyes got a clouded appearance while his entire demeanour relaxed.  

“What a weak idiot; didn’t even try to resist.” Harry shook his head before he turned towards his godfather. “You have those?”  

Sirius nodded and pulled out a bunch of blank parchments, a quill, and a bottle of black ink. He placed the items in front of Malfoy before he opened the metal cuff of his right hand.  

“Write a letter to your son the same way you used to write previous ones.” Harry instructed him. “Tell him that his life is in danger at school and that he needs to leave it as soon as possible. And then tell him to meet you at the same entrance where the Death Eaters came through. Time is nine p.m., after dinner.”   

There was little resistance, but soon enough, Lucius began writing the letter as he had been instructed by Harry. The man didn’t even know that this one letter would be the doom of his son’s and his own life…and the entirety of House Malfoy as a whole.  

Once the letter had been finished, Harry read it once just to check the content. Once he was satisfied with the job, he placed the letter in an envelope and instructed Lucius to seal it with the Malfoy family crest.  

“Sirius, lock his arm again, and make sure that he remains unconscious till tomorrow morning, alright?” Harry asked his godfather, who nodded. “I will leave for Hogwarts now.”  

Before Harry could've left, there was a small ‘pop’ sound, and both men turned to look at the newcomer.  

“Dobby?”  

“Dobby greets Master Harry Potter, sir, and his dogfather.” The elf bowed a bit before he snapped his fingers, and a black scroll dropped into his hand. “This came for Master Harry Potter; it was in the living room.”  

Harry frowned at the black scroll; this was definitely a summon from the Necromancer’s guild. But why would the Guildmaster send a summon like this when he had been with her just a few hours earlier?  

“What’s this, Harry?” Sirius asked him.  

“A summon from the Guild.” He replied, “Let’s see what it is.”  

.

~Anubis~ 

On the Twenty-first of February, there will be a meeting of all the Guildmasters.  

It is something that has never happened before, but due to the world threatening conditions that have been created as a result of the imbalance in the natural energies of the realms of Life and Death, it is a requirement for the Guilds to come together.  

It has been decided that each of the Guildmasters can bring a commander with them to the meeting. Since you are the commander of the Necromancer Guild, your presence in the Guild is of utmost importance.  

Any delay in answering the summon will be met harshly.  

~Sit Somnus Mortuus~

. 

Harry read the summon twice more before he came to the conclusion that shit was about to hit the fan.  

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Ending note: There you have it fellas, chapter Thirty of Innovator, hope you liked it.

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