HP/LOTM: Visionary - 405

Chapter 405: Control, Death Eaters Seize Power, Wanted

"Cough."

Harry spat blood. The pain lancing through his body had long since passed anything he could endure, but some strange power held him up and refused to let him faint.

"Lift your head. Look at me. Think of the people you care about, just like when you cast a Patronus!"

Aiden’s figure appeared behind him, fist raised to strike.

Harry forced himself to recall Aiden’s words. Faces flashed through his mind, one after another, of everyone who had died fighting Voldemort. His pupils turned gold again.

Golden magic burst from his heart, diving into the depths of his soul and wrapping around the blood-red orb there. Chains of light coiled tightly around it.

Once more, the Deep Realm King’s power was mastered by this force called love. Even with the might to trample all the laws of the world, They could still be met and matched by love.

Harry dragged up his wand. As Aiden’s fist came in, he shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

A great stag raised its head. Light blazed from its silver antlers, forming a shield in front of Harry.

Thump.

Aiden’s punch slammed into the barrier and bounced off. The chibi figure rocketed into the dragon’s head, broke apart into grey mist, and a cracked scale clattered to the ground.

"It worked…" Harry panted, forcing himself upright as the stag dissolved into drifting motes of silver.

"Harry!" Hermione ran over at once to check him over.

"That was wicked," Ron said, watching the last of the Patronus fade. He turned. "Aiden, can you give me one too?"

"If you want the same training, I won’t heal you. Skim close enough to death and you might trigger a surge and jump to this level. Want to gamble?" the vast grey dragon snorted. The gust from its nostrils knocked Ron flat.

Weasley instincts screamed. Ron knew his cousin really did want to beat him half to death and surrendered at once.

"No, I’m good! I was wrong!"

The dragon no longer bothered with him. Its gaze swung back to Harry. "You’re looking for Tom’s Horcruxes."

"Yes. Do you know where they are? Dumbledore said there were three left," Harry said. A flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. He knew one of those Horcruxes was himself. He could not tell his friends. He would be the last sacrifice.

"To be precise, there are four," Aiden said, looking a bit sheepish as he scratched at his jaw. The movement of his claws made the earth shake and the three of them wobble.

"What? How did we get more?" Ron yelped.

Aiden shot him a look that cowed him into silence and went on to Harry.

"I extracted a piece of Tom’s soul from Slytherin’s locket. For research, I later sealed it into a crystal. When I fought Distorted Order at the Ministry, I lost it."

He tapped the air with a claw. A black-covered book rose out of Harry’s pouch.

"This book," Harry said, catching it. Magic light shimmered over the cover, and projected images flickered around it.

"It can help you find the Horcrux hidden in the Ministry. The others you’ll have to track down yourselves," Aiden said. He passed on the final clue and waved his hand. A hole opened beneath Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Ahhh!"
"Aiden, I am not finished with you—!"

Their voices stretched away into the distance. Aiden watched them go and silently blessed them.

"Hey, you’re becoming more of a menace by the day. Want the Department of Mysteries to start managing you tomorrow?" Oliver said, Apparating onto Aiden’s head.

"How is that any different to now? And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been quietly diverting Avalon’s processing power to clear your paperwork," Aiden said, shaking his head hard enough to throw Oliver off.

Then, as if all his strength had finally run out, the dragon’s head dropped and slammed into the ground.

"Looks like another long nap," Oliver muttered, covering his nose and mouth against the dust and rubble, staring at the dragon in a daze.

......

"Is Aiden trying to knock us out for good?" Ron complained as they tumbled out of the void.

They looked around and realised they were back at Grimmauld Place. The house had been stripped bare. Sirius clearly had not returned here, and some fence had picked it clean.

Clatter.

Something toppled over. Harry sprinted after the sound and yanked open the attic door. Inside, cowering in the dark, was Kreacher.

"Kreacher. You dare come back!" Harry snapped. The sight of him dragged up the memory of Sirius almost tumbling through the Veil after Bellatrix’s curse in the Department of Mysteries.

"Kreacher is a Black house-elf. Kreacher belongs here," the elf squeaked, driven into a corner in a small flurry of limbs and crockery.

"Where’s Sirius? Where are they?" Harry demanded, panic creeping into his voice. His godfather’s fate was just as uncertain as the Weasleys’.

"They are hiding with the bloodtraitor Weasleys and the filthy werewolf," Kreacher said. He clearly hated it, but still gave up the information.

Ron grabbed a dust-coated iron pot and moved to brain him, but Hermione caught his arm. He struggled for a second, then let it drop.

While the three of them finally had a temporary refuge, the Death Eaters—now fully in control of the Ministry—set about restarting the ramshackle institution.

A mass of Azkaban inmates were released, among them Dolores Umbridge. The pink toad minced through the half-rebuilt Ministry, spotting a glittering crystal among the rubble.

She snatched it up at once, gazing at it with rapt delight. Then she pried the stone from one of her earrings and replaced it with the crystal. After a quick adjustment of her hair in her mirror, she set off to her office in high spirits.

On Level Eight, the Atrium, new Minister Pius Thicknesse stood beneath the "Magic Is Might" statue with his new Deputy—Severus Snape—giving a speech.

"As your new Minister, I promise to restore this great hall of tolerance. However, you will all need to undergo a small loyalty check," he said.

He nodded to Umbridge. She and a squad of Death Eaters moved through the hall, taking up positions behind Ministry employees. In unison, they drew quills and parchments and began recording every word and gesture.

All across the wizarding world, wanted posters of Harry Potter and Order members went up. Under Bellatrix’s control, the Daily Prophet threw itself into blackening the boy’s name, painting him as a rebellious, twisted, violent murderer.

Death Eaters locked down every major route in and out of the country to trap Harry inside Britain, then began a carpet search from one end of the island to the other.

Among the wanted notices, one stood out: a dragon-blooded figure with heterochromatic eyes. The gaze on that poster seemed to pierce straight through people, making many afraid to look at it for long.

In Avalon, Aiden, asleep, felt his second project—the mind-network—receive a huge boost. The paths of consciousness were spreading rapidly across all of Europe.