43.First Blood

22nd December 1992 (same day)

Harry Potter

A part of him was prepared for everything going to shit the moment he heard there was an attack on Diagon Alley, and right now, Harry really, really regretted not asking Sirius to come as an escort. He barely managed to twist around and deflect the shrapnel from the Explosive Curse, only to see Juno bear the brunt of it before immediately being knocked unconscious by a stunner.

A cloaked man reeled his wand like a fishing rod, pulling Juno towards him.

All thoughts abandoned, Harry sprang into motion. “Terebro!”

His Piercing Curse slammed into a shield, and four wands aimed at him at the same time. “Avada Kedavra!”

Swearing inwardly, Harry instantly dove to the ground, barely avoiding the four sinister jets of bright green that exploded somewhere behind him.

Why had they started casting Killing Curses only after Juno was taken?

A barrage of wordless spells streaked his way as he was trying to get up. Harry desperately raised a shield, but it shattered under the onslaught. The backlash was as if a troll had struck him with a club. He had no time to think before his breath was knocked out of his lungs, and his back slammed into the hard cobblestones.

His vision was filled with stars as the smell of death and brimstone assaulted his senses, but his mind remained surprisingly clear—whether from the Occlumency or something else, it didn’t matter.

His friend was taken, and with her, the Horcrux. He had to get both back.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!”

“Eviscero!”

Harry barely managed to twist and roll to the side, barely dodging the Entrail-Expelling Curse and pulling a dislodged stone in the path of the two Unforgivables. Crimson red and eerie green struck the cobblestone, and the resulting explosion saw Harry shield his eyes as dust and debris tore into his robes.

Ignoring the pain, he leapt to his feet. Juno was being carried away towards Knockturn Alley while five cloaked figures started showering Harry with even more curses. There was no help coming; Harry knew the Aurors would be late as always, and the rest of the wizards and witches had already hidden or escaped as soon as Unforgivables started flying.

Gritting his teeth, his insides lurched as he forcefully stabbed his wand downwards, peeling off a chunk from the cobbled street and enlarging it to block the incoming barrage. Harry lunged forth, pouring everything he had into an overpowered Cheering Charm. Four of the five enemies heaved over, laughing furiously. That gave Harry just enough time to dodge a Bone-Breaking Curse from the fifth and cast a Tracking Charm on Juno just before she disappeared around the corner.

By the time he returned his attention to the wizards, the fifth one started dispelling the Cheering Charm.

‘What’s happening, master?’ Nyx’s voice almost made him stumble into a deadly curse as he weaved through the onslaught. He had forgotten that his companion was sleeping under his skin—which also allowed them a mental connection.

‘Stay hidden and don’t appear no matter what,’ Harry commanded as he caught another Entrail-Expelling Curse at the tip of his wand with the deflection technique Sirius taught him and threw it back at its caster. Once he crumpled to the ground, with his innards spilling out from his belly button, Harry’s enemies were reduced to four.

‘But you’re outnumbered,’ Nyx whined. Harry, however, was too busy to respond.

His heart thundered in his ears as shrapnel, sinister curses, and even wind and smoke were hurled his way. Why?

Why did things always end up this way?

His mind raced for a way out of this precarious situation, while he squeezed his body and magic to the limit as his wand blurred, trying to keep up with his enemies.

They couldn’t have known about the cup—there was no sign of it. Unless… unless someone had seen Juno when she had taken down her cowl in Gringotts. They wanted him dead, not because he was Harry Potter, but because he was Juno’s companion.

… All things considered, that was certainly a first.

Deflecting, dodging, and shielding barely left him any time to counter. Sweat trickled into his burning eyes; he’d long since fallen back to the simplicity and quickness of basic charms. Transfiguration was too taxing, and its wand motions too long and cumbersome to be worth it against these odds.

He had lasted this long only because his opponents had poor aim, seemed in poorer physical shape than he was, and were using needlessly powerful spells requiring long incantations. While his magic reserves were significant for a second year, they couldn’t compare to most adults.

Each one of them could outlast him, even while burying him in curses and hexes. Their numbers only made that outcome more likely, and Harry scowled when more cloaked figures streamed in from another alley and the far end of Diagon.

Four became five, then seven, then nine, and Harry could no longer keep up. He could beat one or two or even three simultaneously, but there were just too many enemies.

Gritting his teeth and squeezing his magic through his wand, he bellowed, “BOMBARDA MAXIMA!”

The deafening cannon blast and the following explosion knocked five of his enemies off their feet, giving Harry valuable time to retreat towards a nearby shop, only to find the handle was as stiff as a stone, and the door refused to budge.

Swearing under his breath, he raised a shield to meet the coming curses. His back slammed against the wall with each salvo, and just when he thought he could readjust his footing, four heavy curses slammed into it, shattering it to pieces.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!”

Harry ducked underneath the Unforgivables and frantically looked around for a place to retreat. Every window he could see was shuttered and boarded up, and going for the ones further down the street would leave him dangerously exposed.

He was cornered and alone.

With nowhere else to run, fighting was his only option.

Jerking out of the way of another Killing Curse, Harry levitated all the debris in his vicinity and banished them at the enemy. The rain of broken stones and wooden splinters slammed into the cloaked figures. Five shielded in time, and from the other two, one slumped on the ground like a bag of potatoes.

Yet Harry was already rushing forth, pushing his speed to the limit as he kept flinging spells at the attackers. “Fumos, Glacius, Terebro, Terebro, Sectumsempra, Ossio Dispersimus!”

The smokescreen gave him some time, and the spells saw one of his enemies impaled by ice shards. Snape’s cutting curse severed a wand with its hand, but the rest shielded his Piercing Curse, and the Bone-Vanishing spell didn’t even make it halfway before fizzling out.

‘Damn that Fraud’s magic.’

Then, a giddy voice that grated in Harry’s ears echoed just next to him, “Eviscero!”

He tried to spin away, but the Entrail-Expelling Curse hit him straight in the chest, and Harry braced himself for the pain.

But no pain ever came. Why weren’t his organs spilling out on the cobblestones?

Just like Harry, the thug paused in confusion, but the other enemies hurled three more curses at him. One whistled past his shoulder, but the bone-breaker and an ominous purple spell he didn’t recognise struck him in the side.

Once again, he felt nothing, not even a pinch or a tickle, as Harry desperately gasped for the much-needed breath.

‘That barely tickled, yet it itches!’ Nyx’s annoyed voice hissed in his mind. ‘I can’t materialise in your face, master, but the rest of your body is protected. Fight, kill, teach these nasty two-legs a lesson. Take my magic too, take it all.’

A rush of molten heat coiled itself into his chest, spreading through his limbs, and the frustration that had threatened to overwhelm him earlier gave way to excitement.

He lunged forth, stabbing his wand at the arm of his ambusher. The cloaked figure was still confused, giving Harry time to tap his wand hand, vanishing his bones. A girlish shriek almost deafened him as the limb flailed loosely as if made of rubber.

The feeling of being slowly squeezed and suffocated disappeared, but his frustrations and anger from earlier remained. Diagon Alley looked like a warzone with all the smoke, holes, debris, and broken glass littering the ground. The shopkeepers had all hidden, and the usual crowds filling the alleys had long fled.

But it didn’t matter. The less they saw of Harry, the better, and his face-obscuring hood was still covering his head.

A feral smile found its way to Harry’s lips as he turned to the other attackers, the tip of his yew wand glowing. He could do it. He would smash all these wizards, and he would take Juno back… and the Horcrux, too.

Juno

“Wakey Wakey, little niece,” a raspy voice startled her as her consciousness returned. Her head pounded as if her brain was trying to escape from her skull, and painfully tight ropes bound her limbs together to what felt like an uncomfortable chair. It was cold, and the stench of mould tickled her senses–she was indoors. Her face stung as if something had cut her in a few places, and her body felt like one big bruise. She grimaced inwardly as the memories of earlier returned with a vengeance.

What had happened to Harry? Panic nearly took hold of her, but the weight and the cumbersome form of the rucksack still on her back brought her a small sense of comfort. And Harry… Juno knew best he was not so easily taken down and shouldn’t attract too much undue attention as his face had remained hidden during their whole stay in Diagon.

“I know you’re awake. I used a Rennervate, so there’s no need to pretend.”

She cautiously cracked her eyes open. The first thing that greeted her was a face Juno had memorised long ago—Rabastan Lestrange’s once angular face had become hollowed out from the decade-long stay in Azkaban. His aquiline nose was crooked from a break that healed wrong, and the gaunt face sported a vicious smile full of rotten yellow teeth. His dark eyes shone with madness, hatred, and something thinly veiled that made her skin crawl.

Lust.

‘When in trouble, always keep your head clear. Panic and fear will see you killed far more easily than any curse.’ Cassiopeia’s words echoed in her mind.

Ignoring the dread pooling in her stomach, Juno’s training kicked in, and she forcefully cleared her mind to take stock of her surroundings. The headache finally became bearable, allowing her to think. She was inside what looked to be a dimly lit pub or a club, abandoned long ago. There were seven tables with four chairs each, some broken or cracked, a pile of garbage in the corner, a counter, and empty, worn-out shelves behind it.

There was a single window, small and opaque, at the very top of the north wall, filtering in a dim light barely enough to light the room. Coupled with the sole door that could only be the entrance, it made Juno think they were half-underground.

“Uncle,” she greeted evenly while trying to feel for her wand, but the holster was missing from her forearm. It was placed on the table before her, but she could feel the mokeskin pouches remaining underneath her robes, in the pockets and belt. The same mokeskin pouches Harry had helped her fill with gold, potions, and most importantly, enchanted items. “I would give you a proper curtsy, but as you see, my limbs are bound.”

Being kidnapped, especially with Voldemort’s soul shard in her possession, was problematic, but at least kinship would serve as a protection, no matter how flimsy. Juno did hope Rabastan had yet to find out that she had just looted his family’s vaults.

Rabastan’s unblinking gaze didn’t leave her as he folded his arms. His black robes were plain and frayed around the edges. But they were clean, nothing like the ratty prison garb they had escaped with. This only meant the Azkaban prisoners had found themselves a base and some funds.

It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, considering most of them were still at large.

“Hmm. Far more polite than your crazy bitch of a mother,” he murmured, his lips curling in disgust. But his eyes told another story. Madness, hatred, and lust gave way to fear; Rabastan feared Bellatrix. “Far prettier, too.”

His emotions were an open book, and his skill in Occlumency was so rudimentary that it was easily ignorable. She could work with that.

“It is only right, as the heir of two storied lineages,” Juno sniffed, earning herself an eager nod from her uncle. So he truly was a bloodthirsty moron blindly led around by that half-blood Dark Lord? Or had perhaps the lengthy stay in Azkaban damaged his ability to reason? “How may I be of assistance, uncle?”

“Help me?” Rabastan paused, his gaunt face growing thoughtful. “You can help me by going to your mother—Bella wants you back. She’s been spitting fire since she found out from her sister that you’re best friends with the Potter boy. Your haughty annoyance of an aunt hasn’t changed either; not even pregnancy’s mellowed out the frigid prude.”

So that’s where they had received shelter and aid. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. But Lucius was not stupid enough to do anything that would openly implicate himself, like confessing the fact that his own son was on amicable terms with Harry Potter.

“My aunt is pregnant?” Juno asked, diverting the talk in a more inane direction.

Her uncle clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Yes, it seems Cissa always wanted a daughter, and Lucius finally relented after a decade of stubbornness.” His voice thickened with anger. “Those treacherous bastards abandoned the Dark Lord to live in luxury and comfort! Can you believe their gall?!”

Juno nodded eagerly, putting all the honesty she was capable of in her voice. “I never liked Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa anyway. Always acting so superior and patronising.”

“Me neither, little Juno. I would have never forgiven them if they weren’t family,” he mused darkly. Rabastan leaned forward, and she was hit with his breath that stank of rotten eggs. “I will never forget their betrayal, though.”

“Yes… could you untie me, Uncle?” Juno pleaded softly, suppressing all of her other emotions. “My hands are beginning to hurt.”

“You were seen in public, consorting with the Potter boy and mudbloods,” Rabastan sneered, his face turning suspicious. “Not even in Slytherin, and they say Dumbledore teaches you with the excuses of detentions. Has the old meddling bastard corrupted you? They say you have turned traitor, little niece.”

“Nothing like that,” Juno said, letting her disgust for her uncle seep into her words. “I’m just making connections. Studying the other side while buying myself time to grow. I forced the hat to put me in Ravenclaw to avoid Dumbledore’s scrutiny, and he started giving me detentions because he found out I was practising Dark Magic. His detentions were an excuse to force me into learning to cast the Patronus Charm.”

The suspicion in his eyes waned, replaced by understanding and anger.

“That damn muggle-loving bastard and his old tricks!” He spat, rubbing his face with a groan. “I suppose I can release your restraints if you behave. But you’re not getting your wand back until your mother says so. Perhaps I can use it until then. Do you know how hard it is to get a proper wand these days? Damn that Ollivander for turning his shop into a bloody fortress! That stingy bastard Lucius barely coughed out two legacy wands, and we managed to get nine more from Travers, Selwyn, and Father’s manor.”

So that was their purpose in Diagon today. Wands.

Just like that, Rabastan grabbed her wand, waved it around as if to get a feel, spun it between his fingers and sighed. “Ah, I’ve missed the feeling.” He observed her closely, searching for any signs of anger. “It’s a bit unwilling, but better than using rubbish.”

Juno’s Occlumency was stretched to the very limit as she gave him the best smile she was capable of, if a bit stiff. “Of course, you can use it, Uncle. But I’ll need it back for school.”

“Bah, who needs Hogwarts and that meddling bastard Dumbledore? I will teach you myself,” he said, his frown turning into a leer as his gaze roamed over her body. “Worst case, we can sign you to a proper place like Durmstrang. Evanesco!”

The ropes binding her disappeared, and Juno cautiously rubbed her numb limbs. She was tempted to act, but despite his seemingly satisfied face, she could feel the caution and suspicion still dwelling in his mind. Confidence, too–he was confident in easily handling anything an unarmed thirteen-year-old witch like her could do.

“But Uncle Rabastan, what about the wand you’re using?” she asked innocently, motioning at the wand sticking out of his robe’s pocket. It looked less like a wand and more like a freshly plucked branch from some tree, with some unpeeled bark remaining.

“Got it today, and it’s already falling apart,” he scoffed. “Grizelda the Hag boasts her stuff is better than Ollivander’s, but her wands only last a few dozen strong spells before burning out. I remember Rookwood said she makes the cores by grinding down topaz and mixing it with kneazle hair. Still, it’s better than nothing.”

“Yes,” Juno agreed. “How did you find me?”

“It’s the hair,” was the amused response. “Your long hair looks just the same as your mother’s when she was young.”

So he had been standing watch in Gringotts? The only moment she had removed her hood was to show her face to the greedy bank teller. There was no way the goblins did not know they had a Peeping Tom in their lobby; did they provide him shelter? Was that why they were reluctant to allow her access to the vault? Or had he been there to try to withdraw funds? The goblins wouldn’t care if he was an escaped criminal as long as he kept Gringotts’ rules.

Juno swallowed her frustration and sighed. “How have Mother and Father fared?”

“Your mother is half-mad,” he said, shuddering. “She always had been, but Azkaban made it worse. The fucking bitch tortured Rodolphus so much that he is still bedridden. And for what? For breathing too bloody loud! The bloody bitch snores louder than a troll anyway, yet none of us complain. I hope your presence will bring her back to her senses or at least help her calm down.”

Juno decided to take a gamble. With a wand, her uncle could apparate them away at any moment with minimal risk, but he hadn’t. Which meant he still had unfinished business here.

“Right. Should we go, then?” She urged, then, and could barely hold down her smile as Rabastan’s suspicion melted away. But his caution and lust remained. “I want to see my mother.”

To claw her eyes out. And ask her why. Why did she abandon her only child to rot in Azkaban for life for some half-blood fraud?!

“Patience, little Juno,” he tutted. “Waiting for Selwyn to convince Grizelda to join us and for Travers and Mulciber to return with their haul. I was supposed to go with them, but you were far more important–and nobody can see that we have you, either.”

“Indeed.” It would be terrible if she were seen in public with dangerous criminals and unhinged murderers. “I take it we’re in Knockturn, then?”

“Yep, inside one of the proxy-owned Lestrange hideouts. It’s soundproofed, and a powerful Notice-Me-Not is woven into the very room. And we’ll stay here–your mother will be angry if anything happens to you.” But the idiot did nothing to treat her bruises or the wounds that were still stinging her face from the bits of stone that had struck her earlier.

So Juno had a small window of opportunity to escape. The more time passed, the bigger the chance that her uncle’s accomplices arrived and the greater the danger.

The silence grew tense as Rabastan’s darting eyes kept gliding towards her body. Her imbecilic uncle kept looking at her chest while she turned sideways, and her hand that was out of his sight slowly but surely made her way underneath her robes and towards the mokeskin pouches.

Occasionally, his expectant gaze paused on the door. When she felt his attention fully shift towards the door, Juno’s hand dipped inside the one with the enchanted items. After a few tense seconds where Rabastan was still half-turned to the door, her fingers finally found the hilt of what she recognised to be a cursed dagger.

Juno lunged forth, aiming at his throat. But he jerked away at the last moment, and the cursed blade sank into his shoulder.

She desperately yanked it away and stabbed at his neck again, but his left hand was in the way. The blade pierced through Rabastan’s palm, and he grasped her hand holding the hilt. No matter how much she tried to pry it off, it didn’t budge.

“Crazy little whore!” her uncle hissed out, breathing heavily. Black veins were spreading out from the place the cursed dagger had pierced his hand, but he was still not letting go. “Little crazy whore just like your mother! I’ll enjoy breaking you. Cruci-“”

Juno’s mind slammed into his, dazing him for a moment, just enough to interrupt the spell. But he closed his eyes to avoid another mental attack, giving Juno the chance to kick him in the groin.

Rabastan crumpled on the ground with a pained moan, letting go of his wand and the dagger. Juno, however, didn’t stop, kicking him in the groin again, now protected by his hands. She lunged down and started stabbing with the dagger, but the blade broke when it struck his collarbone.

So much for the vaunted Lestrange pride in their personal arms collection.

She hastily grabbed her wand and leapt away from her writhing uncle.

Letting go of her Occlumency, Juno stopped suppressing her anger and hatred and could feel her face contorting in rage.

Her wand smoothly moved in the zigzag shape she had practised a thousand times, “Avada Kedavra!”

She could feel the lurch inside her stomach as the curse tugged far more than anything else had before. A dull green streak slammed into Rabastan, and his body jolted, but his wheezing continued.

It was a failure. The musty stench of decay mingled with the stale, mouldy air as if to mock her. And there was something there, more subtle yet just as insidious and rotten. The taste of dark magic.

“Almost,” he whispered, voice as weak as a candle to be snuffed out as blood leaked through his nose and ears. “You need to hate harder, niece.“

She gritted her teeth and allowed her anger to overflow. “Avada-“

“QUICK!” A shout from beyond the door interrupted her. “That madman is coming. Spells bounce off the short bastard as if he’s some sort of dragon. We have to get out of here-“

The door slammed open, and two wheezing men entered with wands drawn.

Juno cast two silent Disarming Charms; the first man was too slow to react, so his wand flew away into a corner. The second barely raised a shield in time while the first took out another stick from his pocket, and Juno swore inwardly as he was already twisting it to complete a spell.

She halted her motion and blinked as the ghastly spell flew past her head. Did he aim at where she was going to dodge, or was he just bad at aiming?

The second opponent was not idle either. To her surprise, the oncoming Blood-Boiling Curse splashed harmlessly against her shield.

Were those guys just that pathetic? Or perhaps the wands they used were rubbish or didn’t bond properly.

Just as Juno was brandishing her wand to hurl a Piercing Curse, one of the shadows behind them wiggled, and an enormous black blur erupted.

No, it wasn’t a black blur, but Nyx, who bit the first man by the shoulder and dragged him back to the open door just as another cloaked figure burst in, slamming his wand into the second enemy with an explosion of crimson, who flew back a few yards and crashed into the pile of garbage in the corner, unconscious.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re fine.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped over Rabastan’s still form, lowering his hood and revealing a pair of emeralds filled with concern that melted away most of her tension. Aside from a few gashes and tears in his robe, her friend looked untouched, and there seemed to be no blood.

He hastily came her way, and with a soft tap of his wand and a murmured healing spell, the stinging wounds on her face disappeared, and Juno found tension leaving her body.

“They got me by surprise,” she said, chiding herself for her stupidity. “The Horcrux felt like it weighed a ton for a moment. At least it’s still here, in the rucksack.” The uncomfortable weight on her back was unmistakable.

Nyx slithered into the room lazily, her midsection considerably swollen as something wriggled inside as if trying to escape. Juno ignored the muffled screaming that would most likely haunt her if she thought too hard about it.

“Great.” Her friend approached the knocked-out wizard in the corner and tapped his wand on his limbs, and they flopped bonelessly to the side. “Do you know why they decided to kidnap you?

“Bad luck. Turns out my uncle recognised me in Gringotts.” She motioned to the corpse just by the door. Her Killing Curse might have failed to kill him, but black veins covered each inch of his exposed skin, courtesy of the broken cursed dagger blade still stuck in his shoulder. He was as dead as a doornail.

“Rabastan Lestrange?” Harry twirled his wand.

“I…” Juno struggled to face the mess of hatred, numbness, and disgust that warred in her stomach. She expected to feel sick of her first kill, but any revulsion came from the stench of decay and voided bowels. “I wanted to kill him even before we talked and even more so after we did. He and my mother and my father. And I did it, but it feels… hollow. Unsatisfying. I even tried the Killing Curse, but it wasn’t strong enough–he only laughed and told me I didn’t hate him enough. I expected to feel sad or happy or… I don’t know. Anything but apathy.”

Harry’s gaze turned unbearably intense, but she didn’t want to look away now. The expected condemnation and silent judgement of her deed didn’t come; his green eyes were soft and filled with understanding.

“Do you regret it?”

Did she? Juno could always repeat the stuff her aunt had taught her. ‘Enemies are to be removed or neutralised at the first opportunity. Especially those who are a threat to your life and family.’

But the words sounded hollow, doubly so that she was killing her own family. But what if her family was the threat? Her mother and father were not only criminals on the run from the law but also die-hard followers of Voldemort. Worse, Bellatrix and Rodolphus didn’t care about her at all… unless it was about the lack of support of her precious mongrel Dark Lord.

“I don’t regret it,” she confessed. “I regret that I hesitated. I regret being weak and unprepared enough to be captured, but nothing else.”

“Right.” Harry exhaled slowly, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his face. “We should get out of here. But first–Ignis Sectum!” A crimson crescent decapitated her uncle’s head, leaving a deep scorch mark on the wooden planks below. There was no blood–the sliced flesh was all charred.

“What was that for? He was already dead.”

“Insurance. I thought much the same about the basilisk, and it almost killed me. Try to avoid Killing Curses; a well-aimed Piercing Hex or a Cutting Curse does the job without any of the drawbacks.” Juno blinked at the sudden lesson, but her friend had already approached the last wizard who had fallen at the corner and lifted his hood. “This one looks vaguely familiar for some reason.”

“Tiberius Selwyn–his niece was a Ravenclaw who graduated last year. Are you going to kill him too?”

“Nah.” Harry grimaced. “It’s easy in the heat of battle when someone’s tossing Killing Curses your way. But, er… killing someone knocked out doesn’t sit well with me.”

Juno agreed silently, even if her aunt Cassie would mock her for her naïveté. She just wanted to go home and sleep, but that wouldn’t make the problems go away. Shaking her head, she focused on her friend. Earlier, he had flippantly explained the best way to kill someone, yet now he was hesitant because it would be cold-blooded. Harry confused her sometimes.

“What are we going to do with him, then? He saw me, and he saw Nyx…”

“I can eat him too,” Nyx volunteered, but there was reluctance in her tone. “But these two-legs taste nasty. My stomach is going to ache for days now.”

The snake’s prey had long since stopped struggling, and Juno felt the bulge looked less human-like and more mushy. Weren’t snakes supposed to take their time digesting their food?

“No more eating humans,” Harry hissed tersely. “But you’re right, Juno, he’s the only one alive who saw Nyx. Do you know anything about this Selwyn character by chance?”

“Rumour was that he was a Voldemort supporter, but there’s no proof. He was in Azkaban for seventeen years for muggle-baiting, rape, and breaking the Statute of Secrecy. I doubt his family stayed in touch with him much, and his niece was decent enough, I suppose.”

Her friend ran a shaky hand through his messy mop of hair before pointing the wand at the boneless man. “Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate!”

“Are you sure you got this right?” Juno asked.

“Not at all, but it might be good practice if we need to do it in the future.”

“It’s hard to say if you’re doing it right because he’s already knocked out. Also, Memory Charms, like all other mind magic, are not infallible and can be broken.”

“Damn it,” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “But I don’t want to kill him. I’m pretty sure I killed one or two wizards earlier by flinging back their own curses at them. I suppose I’ll have to just… make the Memory Charm stick.”

“You might turn him into a retard–or, well, a bigger retard than he already was,” Juno said with an amused chuckle.

“Better retarded than dead, then. Obliviate!”

The blue light from his wand was blinding, forcing Juno to shield her eyes with her hands. Tiberius Selwyn’s breathing turned shallower, but there was no other visible difference. His body still looked painfully thin, especially his limbs, whose bones had vanished.

Juno was greatly intrigued by the ingenuity of a medical spell used offensively–vanishing an enemy’s bones rendered a limb useless until they consumed Skelegro and rested overnight. Many of the healing spells could be twisted for such purposes, and there was a reason why all healers swore the Hippocratic Oath to receive a licence.

“We have to get out of here,” she groaned. “Before any of their friends show up.”

“Nah, I don’t think they will,” Harry said, looking abashed for some reason. “Most of them are going to be pretty busy ’cause there’s a fire blazing in Knockturn, last I saw. But the Aurors might start coming soon–it’s been over twenty minutes since we left Gringotts.”

“How do we leave?”

“We can just walk out,” Harry proposed as Nyx slithered over, melded into his shadow and then impossibly wrapped around his skin like one gigantic tattoo. “It’s a bit chaotic outside, but the fighting has stopped, and nobody will bother us.”

“But the Aurors will definitely block the Leaky Cauldron and try to interrogate everyone,” Juno groaned.

Harry was already walking up the staircase, and she paused to look at Rabastan Lestrange’s body. Why was she hesitating? Was it because of that kinship her uncle had never intended to respect? Was it because of the tangle of emotions that was battling in her heart?

Juno didn’t know why, but she surrendered to impulse, took her uncle’s decapitated head, shrunk it, and shoved it into one of her mokeskin pouches after rushing up the stairs.

Harry was waiting for her at what looked to be an abandoned storefront strewn with three corpses. No, not corpses, but knocked-out wizards.

“What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” she said with a grimace, unsure what to say. Did she have to say anything? Scolding herself inwardly, Juno cleared her mind and took hold of her raging emotions, shoving them back deep inside. It was surprisingly easy this time.

“I can try apparating, but I’m unsure if I won’t splinch even without dragging Nyx and you along. The Horcrux might be a problem. There’s a floo in Borgin and Burkes. The owner can be… persuaded to let us use it. Or we can just knock him out.”

“Let’s do that,” she agreed, pulling back her hood, not feeling too surprised about the illegal floo–there was supposed to be only one floo in Diagon, connected to the Leaky, and that’s it. “Let’s hide our faces properly. The less this mess can be traced to us, the better. Where are we going to go?”

“There’s no floo where I’m supposed to live.” Harry groaned. “It’s supposed to start construction soon, so Sirius and I are staying at a fancy muggle hotel in London.”

“Let’s go to my house, then,” she proposed almost shyly. Why was she feeling shy? “It has a floo and everything. The basilisk fang is there, too.”

“Alright.”

“Disillusionment again.” Harry already tapped his own head, simmering like a semi-transparent chameleon. “It might be a good idea to do a Notice-Me-Not Charm too.”

A minute later, they ventured up the staircase, and Juno realised why Harry wasn’t worried about more enemies coming in. The air was choked with acrid smoke as a shop with poisonous candles was burning, and the dark, cobbled streets of Knockturn were strewed with a trail of cloaked corpses leading towards Diagon.

No, not even a single corpse; they were all alive but knocked out, their hands boneless like Tiberius Selwyn.

Something inside her stomach fluttered as she looked at Harry’s cloaked figure.

Borgin had barricaded his shop, but that didn’t stop Harry from blasting his door open. The insides were just as Juno remembered, filled with all sorts of cursed rubbish and everything remotely interesting or creepy that caught Borgin’s greedy eye. While spacious, the dimly lit shop felt small because of the sheer amount of curiosities crammed inside.

“You can’t just break and enter!” The shivering voice came in from the backroom. “This is a legitimate business, and I pay my taxes to the Ministry!”

But to her amusement, Borgin didn’t dare to come out from his backroom to face them, so they ignored him.

Harry murmured a “Muffliato!” at the counter, filling the shop with a faint buzzing sound. Then he pointed Juno to the inconspicuous fireplace to the side that almost had her gaze slide over. “Go first–I’ve got your back.”

Juno grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the empty hearth. “Black Manor!”

Seeing Harry faceplant out of the floo brought a smile to her lips even an hour later. Now, they were both safely in Black Manor’s sprawling guest room and had changed into a comfortable set of clean black robes. Juno took a shower to wash away the feeling of dirtiness from earlier, but no matter how much she scrubbed, it didn’t go away. She had taken a Bruise-Soothing Solution, and most of her body stopped aching; only the dull headache remained.

With the lingering danger gone, her Occlumency had broken, and Juno’s mind again felt like a jumbled mess, if somehow numb.

Everything had been surreal, like a nightmare, no, a dream.

Despite the earlier mishaps and the danger, the day had been a success, and Juno could come to terms with the meeting with her repulsive uncle later. The Lestrange vaults were all emptied and left for later sorting. Now, two iron boxes were placed on a lacquered wooden ebony table before them as Juno tightly held her wand in her hand. The one in the back held Slytherin’s Locket, and in the front was Hufflepuff’s cup.

“It’s a pity Voldemort ruined such treasures,” Juno lamented. “The things we could do with them. Or just the prestige of owning them…”

“It’s not worth the risk of keeping the Dark Lord alive,” Harry pointed out, face solemn, as he squeezed a basilisk fang in his left hand and a wand in his right.

Pushing down her regret, her gaze settled on the nearest box.

“Do you know what this one does?”

“No idea, but it’s nothing good,” he said. “Knowing Voldemort, he put some nasty curse or something that’ll mess with your mind. Best to just get it open and end it immediately. The basilisk fang should work. A small puncture wound killed that rat Nyx caught earlier in seconds.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll let you do the honours,” Juno said, cautiously bringing the box over. “Ready? One, two, three.”

When she opened the lid, Harry immediately thrust the basilisk fang.

The pained shriek made her recoil as plumes of smoke started wafting out of the opened box. It was no ordinary smoke; its colour was so unnaturally dark that it looked like it was devouring all the light and joy from the world. Her eyes hurt just looking at it, and it felt like a thousand needles were stabbing into her brain. It took the shape of a miniature bald man’s head before letting another shrill cry and dispersing.

Her ears were still ringing as she cautiously peered into the box. Hufflepuff’s golden cup was now a dull shade of yellow, twisted and deformed as if someone had smacked it around repeatedly. Magic flowed into her eyes, but Juno saw nothing but eerie emptiness; whatever enchantments and curses had been here before were gone.

A burden Juno didn’t know existed was also removed from her shoulder, and the world seemed a little brighter all of a sudden. Even her breathing was easier.

Were these the effects of a Horcrux?

Dread pooled in her stomach—Juno had not felt any of these adverse effects take hold.

“Let’s do the other one, too,” Harry urged, but his face looked tired. “I think this one has to be opened with Parseltongue and might try to attack your mind, looking for any weakness.”

“Alright. Ready?” At his nod, Juno steeled herself and opened the lid. Nothing happened, but her magic and mind felt sluggish.

She cautiously took out the Locket, but it was invitingly warm to the touch. Oval-shaped and gold with a serpentine S inlaid with glittering emeralds the beautiful shade of green as Harry’s eyes. It looked magnificent. She felt pity. Perhaps they could leave it for now-

“Juno!” Harry’s warning voice awoke her from her stupor. “Get a grip.”

“Right,” she muttered, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Why did her mind feel as if it were drowned in a swamp? The locket seemed harmless on the table until it rattled like a trapped animal. “I’m going to do it. Open!“

The golden locket swung open, revealing two small windows with a dark, smouldering eye in each, both blinking as if they were alive.

A voice echoed from the locket, sending shivers down her spine.

“I have seen your heart, Juno Lestrange.” The tone was soothing and even ethereal, and Juno couldn’t peel her gaze from the glistening eyes that stared right back at her. “For all your hatred of your parents, you desire them the most-“

The fang stabbed into the eye, shattering the glass. Another shriek echoed as a cloud of darkness wafted out of the now-broken and twisted locket, leaving Juno with a sense of loss.

She turned to Harry, glaring fiercely. “Why did you–ah–” A spike of searing hot pain stabbed through her head, and she almost blacked out. But it was gone as quickly as it came, clearing her muddled thoughts. “Bloody he–I mean, my apologies. I got caught up.”

“I figured,” Harry said wryly, and Juno let out a breath of relief when she saw he wasn’t mad. “Good work. Horcruxes are nasty, even more so with whatever traps and curses Voldemort laid in. Now, only the diary, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and the Gaunt Ring are left.”

“Indeed. Refreshments?”

“Yes, please, I’m famished.” He let out a yawn. “Tired, too. I overexerted myself–all that magic I cast earlier would have squeezed me dry halfway if not for Nyx powering me up like a battery.”

“A battery?”

“Erm, a muggle thing that powers electronics for a time. Anyway, I should probably tell Sirius where I am. He’s most likely back at the hotel and worried sick once news of the attacks becomes known.”

“You can stay the night here if you would like,” Juno proposed. Then, when she realised how inappropriate her suggestion was, she hastily added, “Your godfather is invited here too, both of you, until the end of the holidays–there is no need to give muggles money.”

“Hmm, I suppose.” Harry rubbed his face. “Expecto Patronum!” A silvery version of Nyx appeared from his wand, and he leaned in and whispered, “Sirius, we’re fine, and managed to get out of Diagon Alley unharmed. I’m going to spend the night at Juno’s.”

Juno gaped as the Patronus tunnelled through the air, phasing away. “What was that? You can send a message with a Patronus?”

“Yep,” was the tired response. Harry yawned again and leaned back on the sofa. “I’ll teach you later.”

Soon, a few platters of steaming Shepherd’s pie appeared before them, along with two empty cups and a jug of honeyed milk, courtesy of her house elf. Harry began to devour it as if he hadn’t eaten for days. His appetite had increased at least by half after the Chamber, but Harry chalked it up due to the onset of puberty.

“Next time we’re going places, we should get a portkey, at least,” he mused.

“I’ll have a set of basilisk hide robes tailored and ready for us, too,” she promised as she watched with fascination how quickly the food was disappearing from Harry’s platter. It was the perfect distraction for things she didn’t want to think about. “There’s enough of the skin for nearly a dozen sets.”

“Sounds good.”

They ate in silence for a few more minutes. Soon, Juno finished and opted to watch Harry eat with gusto. She did not know why, but she liked seeing him happily eating the food she provided, even if it was Wally who cooked it. “So, three more Horcruxes. Any luck with the Diadem yet?”

Harry’s face darkened as he swallowed and stopped eating. “None. Went through the place it’s supposed to be in at least a dozen times by now, much to the amusement of the Grey Lady, who didn’t miss a chance to mock me.”

“Perhaps it’s somewhere else,” Juno suggested. “The diary is with the headmaster, and then there’s the Peverell ring. My aunt should be in Little Hangleton right now, looking for the Gaunt Shack.”

“That’s great,” he said sleepily, his tone lacking enthusiasm. “But I can’t help but feel that things are going a bit too easy.”

“What, you call this easy? We literally had to fight our way out of Gringotts, and I bet a part of Knockturn burned to the ground!”

“Like I said, easy. I wonder when the other shoe will drop,” Harry mumbled, finishing the last of his pie, then leaned onto the sofa and closed his eyes. And just like that, her friend was gently snoozing.

Juno Bellatrix Black stared at her friend. For once, the visage of the green-eyed boy made her feel conflicted.

How much had he fought to get to her? Harry Potter could have abandoned her–gone to the Aurors, or even pretended nothing had happened. He could have fled. It would have been the easy thing to do. Not only easy but simple with his skills, too, and Juno wouldn’t even blame him for it. Saving yourself first was the very first lesson her family had drilled into her from a young age. It was selfish, but it was for the survival of House Black. But that was not the sort of person Harry Potter was. Her friend probably never even considered retreat as an option.

Was that what real friendship was like?

At that moment, it felt like all of her troubles had disappeared.

Juno summoned Wally to clean the table, who, in turn, summoned a blanket and set it over Harry. Today, he had quite possibly saved her life again. A voice in her head that suspiciously sounded like Arcturus Black whispered that she probably wouldn’t have been in Diagon if not for Harry.

As Juno shook her head, a loud pop heralded her aunt’s portkey.

“Aunt Cas-” the words died on her tongue as Cassiopeia Black slammed onto the floral carpet.

Her right hand was severed above the elbow, but the stump was blackened and shrivelled and stank of decay. The robe below it was slowly disintegrating into dust. The affliction wriggled and inched over her shoulder and towards her chest as if it had a mind of its own and tried to devour her alive.

“Triple l-layered trap,” she wheezed out. “Underestimated the half-b-blood bastard. Door was impossible t-to unlock or break, and I tried to e-enter through the shutter-“

“Don’t speak!” Juno abandoned all decorum, raising her voice. “Wally, Wally, bring the potion kit!”

Harry stirred awake and jumped to his feet, wand drawn and eyes wide as saucers.

“Juno…” Cassiopeia’s eyes were clouded with pain, but Juno saw a resigned clarity within. “It’s of n-no use–it’s reaching my heart. I-I loved you like a daughter-“

Her mouth grew slack, and her body slumped in Juno’s hands. She refused to let go, but the fabric started to decay and turn to dust between her fingers. Cassiopeia’s pained face wrinkled and rotted before her eyes until the flesh sloughed off the skull flake by flake like old parchment.

Juno’s vision began to blur as her eyes began to sting. Wet… tears?

Was she crying?

“Mistress.” Wally’s voice was distant. Juno had not even heard the house elf come, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now. “We have to burn the body before bad rot curse spreads.”

It only made her wail harder, but a pair of strong arms gently pulled her away from the crumbling body of Cassiopeia Black.