Chapter 301: Chapter 301: "Spoils of the Hunt"
The sun was already high in the sky when Harry finally stirred, its golden rays streaming through the windows of Black Castle, casting lazy patterns across the stone walls. It was well past noon, but after the events of the previous night—raiding the Acromantula nest, battling hordes of spiders, dueling Dumbledore, and inadvertently acquiring the Elder Wand—Harry had earned every minute of extra rest.
Stretching languidly, he allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence. "Afternoon already?" he murmured, glancing at the ornate clock on his nightstand. "Guess I overdid it last night."
Throwing off the covers, he rose and began his day, though the day was already halfway over. There was much to do, and his mind was already buzzing with plans.
"Time to sort through the spoils," he mused.
Harry made his way to the storeroom where he had asked Mira to organize the materials harvested from the Acromantula raid. Upon opening the door, he stopped in his tracks, momentarily dumbstruck by the sheer quantity of resources. Venom sacs glistened ominously under the soft light, silky threads were coiled neatly into massive bundles, and chitinous exoskeletons were piled high in sturdy crates.
"Well," Harry muttered, "this is going to take some time."
Without delay, he got to work. Every item in the room held value if sold in the right markets and at the right time. Carefully, he began sorting the resources into separate categories: those to be sold immediately and those to be stored for future use.
The sheer volume was staggering, and as he worked, he couldn't help but marvel at the potential. "These will fetch a fortune," he thought, already envisioning his vault at Gringotts swelling with newfound wealth.
Aragog's parts, however, were something else entirely. Exceptionally rare and incredibly valuable, Harry decided to keep them in stasis. "These might prove invaluable someday," he reasoned. "If sold, they'd be nearly impossible to replace when needed."
Thankfully, Mira was there to assist, her efficiency helping him make quick progress. Together, they sorted and cataloged the materials with precision. Even so, the task took hours, and it wasn't until the evening that they finally finished.
Harry leaned back, wiping his hands on a cloth, surveying their work with satisfaction. "Not bad," he said aloud. "Not bad at all."
Mira, standing beside him, nodded approvingly. She couldn't hide her excitement, hopping happily as she imagined how much wealth these spoils would bring to her master and the Potter family once sold.
With the materials sorted, Harry turned his attention to his most prized spoil of the day: the Elder Wand. Holding it felt... different. A subtle hum of power coursed through it, resonating with his own magic in a way no wand ever had before. Intrigued, he decided to test its capabilities.
Moving to the dueling chamber, Harry faced a training dummy. Pointing the Elder Wand, he cast a simple Stunning Spell. "Stupefy!"
A brilliant beam of red light shot forth, striking the dummy with such force that it shattered into pieces.
"Impressive," he murmured, his eyes widening. "The spell flows too smoothly... and it's stronger than usual. Almost like an enhanced version of itself."
Excited by the potential, he tried a few more spells—Disarming Charms, Shield Charms, even a Patronus. Each one was executed with unparalleled precision and power, far exceeding anything he'd achieved with his own wand. A grin spread across his face as he continued testing. Harry was thrilled with the results; he was steadily progressing toward his goal of becoming an overpowered wizard.
"Although," he mused aloud, "I can't use this wand in front of Dumbledore without stirring unnecessary trouble for myself. Still, it's far too good to ignore. This will come in very handy for my vigilante activities against Voldemort's forces."
As he experimented further, an idea struck him. "Maybe I can bind it to myself, like I did with the Invisibility Cloak."
Harry carefully drew intricate runes on the ground, whispering ancient incantations he had memorized from his travels. He poured his intent into the ritual, willing the Elder Wand to bind itself to him, to become a seamless extension of his power. As the ritual concluded, he waited with bated breath.
Nothing happened.
"Disappointing," he sighed, staring at the wand. "Maybe the Elder Wand requires a different ritual to bind."
Undeterred, Harry resolved to research further. "There's got to be a way—I'll figure it out," he thought, slipping the wand into a hidden wand holder on his arm.
Now, with his personal Thunderbird wand secured on one arm and the Elder Wand on the other, Harry felt prepared for whatever lay ahead. "Two wands are all I'll ever need," he thought with satisfaction. "One for Harry Potter, and the other for the mysterious wizard."
The dual setup would serve him perfectly—one for his everyday life, and the other for his secretive battles against the dark forces threatening the world.
Happy with what he had gained, Harry was eager to resume his training with Arcturus. Over the next few weeks, he immersed himself in his studies of the Dark Arts, honing his skills and delving deeper into arcane knowledge. His mastery was growing steadily, and he relished the challenge.
His regular visits to Fleur provided a welcome break from his intense studies. They spent hours together, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. For a while, the weight of looming threats seemed to lift, and Harry allowed himself the luxury of peace.
But reality soon intruded.
An owl tapped urgently at his window, delivering a letter bearing the Hogwarts seal. Setting down the massive tome on dark magic he had been studying, Harry crossed the room and opened the window to retrieve the letter. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the parchment to reveal a gleaming Head Boy badge pinned inside.
"Well, well," Harry thought with a smirk. "Looks like Dumbledore's petty revenge didn't pan out after all." His master had kept his promise—Harry would indeed hold the Head Boy position this year.
Speaking of Dumbledore, Harry had heard intriguing rumors through Sirius and Kreacher, who had been snooping around Grimmauld Place. According to them, the old headmaster had not been the same recently. Having lost the Elder Wand, for some reason he now appeared haggard, constantly busy, and perpetually rushed. Whatever he was working on, he was keeping it to himself.
Fortunately for Dumbledore, his diminished presence in the Ministry following the last Wizengamot meeting had given him more time for his secretive pursuits. And since he had never shown much interest in his duties as Hogwarts headmaster—leaving most of the work to his deputy—he was free to focus on whatever he wanted.
Harry had a hunch about what those activities might involve. "Without the Elder Wand giving him an edge, he's probably nervous," Harry mused. "He's likely accelerating his plans, trying to finish his search for the Horcruxes and dig deeper into Voldemort's history. He wants to ensure Charles has the tools to fulfill the prophecy."
To test his theory, Harry decided to watch for any signs of Dumbledore giving Charles extra lessons when school resumed. "If he does," Harry thought, "it'll confirm that Dumbledore is fast-tracking his plans."
As Harry thought about this, he was reading the letter that came with the badge. There he was the words that in a week, the school would start. That left him a little confused. It looked like Harry had lost track of time. He assumed he had more time to do things before Hogwarts started for his final year.
His attention returned to the letter. It stated that Hogwarts would start in one week—a revelation that left Harry slightly bewildered. He hadn't realized how much time had passed. Caught up in his studies and experiments with the Elder Wand, he had lost track of the days. Even his earlier plans to investigate Voldemort's movements had fallen by the wayside. He had no idea what Duncan Macnair, his target, had been up to.
"It's time to deal with that," Harry decided firmly. "No more waiting for the perfect opportunity."
Determined, he resolved to intercept Macnair directly and get the answers he needed. There was no time to waste.
Chapter 302: Chapter 302: "Shadows in the Alley"
The following day, under the guise of the mysterious wizard who had saved Charles from the graveyard, Harry positioned himself outside the Ministry of Magic. Invisible for added security, he waited patiently, his eyes scanning the steady flow of Ministry workers leaving for the day.
As evening fell and the crowd began to thin, his target finally emerged. Macnair strode out with sly confidence, his eyes darting about, as though always aware of shadows trailing him.
"There you are," Harry murmured, his grip tightening on his wand.
Keeping a safe distance, Harry tailed Macnair as he weaved through the bustling streets of London. The man's movements were deliberate, yet cautious. When Macnair eventually turned into an empty park, Harry prepared to make his move. Clutching the Elder Wand, he focused his intent.
"Imperio," he whispered.
The spell connected flawlessly. Macnair's shoulders relaxed, and his once-alert eyes glazed over, stripped of their vigilance.
Harry had no qualms about using the unforgivables. With his training this summer, he had gotten good at dark magic and dealing with its side effects so he was not affraid of the side effects of the unforgivables if he used them properly.
"Excellent," Harry thought, slipping back into invisibility. This part of the plan had gone smoother than he expected.
He guided the entranced Macnair out of the park and toward a secluded alleyway. It was the perfect spot to execute the next step: a side-along Apparition to a secure location where Harry could extract the information he needed.
As they entered the narrow alley, the sounds of London's busy streets faded into the background. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe were the only sounds that accompanied them.
"Just a bit further," Harry muttered under his breath, scanning the area to ensure it was deserted. Satisfied, he dropped his invisibility and prepared to Apparate.
But suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. His instincts flared—a deep, familiar sense of danger honed through years of vigilance. Something wasn't right.
Harry stilled, his senses sharpening. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a blur of movement in the dim light. Whipping around, he saw a cloaked figure hurtling toward him at an inhuman speed. The figure's face was obscured beneath the hood, but their long, razor-sharp nails gleamed menacingly as they reached for him.
Reacting instantly, Harry shoved Macnair aside, breaking the Imperius Curse in the process. "Stupefy!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the Death Eater. A brilliant red beam struck Macnair squarely, rendering him unconscious before he could even process what was happening.
"One less problem," Harry thought.
The cloaked attacker skidded to a halt just a few paces away, hissing softly. From the shadows, two more figures emerged, flanking the first. Their movements were unnaturally fluid, their glowing eyes piercing through the darkness.
"Vampires," Harry realized, his mind racing. He'd read about them but never encountered one—let alone three.
"Well, well," the first vampire spoke, his accent unfamiliar yet smooth. "What do we have here? A curious little stalker?"
Harry kept his expression calm, though his mind worked furiously. "Vampires working with Voldemort? How fascinating. I didn't realize noble vampires had sunk so low as to serve a wizard."
The second vampire, a striking woman with silver hair and an icy glare, hissed in response. "You need to show respect for your elders. We were terrorizing mortals long before you were even born."
"And yet," Harry countered, his tone dripping with mockery, "here you are, following orders from a wizard who's likely younger than you. What's next? Fetching him tea?"
The silver-haired vampire bristled with fury, her sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. "You dare mock me? You'll regret it. I'll savor every drop of your blood while you scream."
"Enough talk," the third vampire growled, his massive frame looming over the others. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. "Let's tear him apart and be done with it."
Harry's lips curved into a slight smile. "By all means, give it your best shot."
The vampires attacked as one, their coordinated movements a testament to years of fighting together. The female went high, the large one low, while the first circled to Harry's blind spot.
But Harry wasn't there anymore.
With the enhanced speed of a knight, Harry had already sidestepped their initial assault. His wand moved in precise arcs, sending a barrage of spells that forced the vampires to scatter.
The large vampire's eyes widened in recognition. "Impossible! He moves like a—"
"Knight," the female vampire finished, her voice tinged with both awe and fear. "Matthias, we face a knight!"
Harry's expression hardened. The fact that they recognized his abilities complicated matters. He couldn't risk them reporting back to Voldemort—or worse, Dumbledore. If either of them learned that all their recent troubles stemmed from the same person, it wouldn't take long for suspicions to land on him. That was a risk Harry couldn't afford.
Keeping his identity a secret wasn't about fear of Voldemort or Dumbledore—it was about protecting his friends and family. He wouldn't allow his enemies to use their lives as leverage against him.
The vampires, oblivious to the fate Harry had already decided for them, conversed quietly.
"A knight? In this age? I thought their practice was extinct," Matthias muttered.
The female vampire scoffed. "Legends and relics," she sneered. "No match for us."
Harry shrugged casually. "Care to test that theory?"
The first vampire's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Gladly."
Without warning, the trio lunged at him again. Harry reacted instantly, his reflexes honed from countless battles.
The fight became a deadly dance of speed and power. Recognizing the threat Harry posed, the vampires abandoned their usual hunting tactics, opting for a more aggressive and chaotic approach. They blurred around him, attacking from every angle with supernatural strength and speed, each strike deadly.
But Harry matched them move for move. His knight training had elevated his physical capabilities far beyond normal human limits, and his mastery of magic gave him an edge they couldn't counter. He weaved effortlessly between their attacks, his wand work conjuring barriers of force and lances of magical energy that kept them at bay.
The first vampire laughed, a mocking tone in his voice. "Impressive magic. But it's not enough."
"Maybe not," Harry replied evenly, "but it keeps things interesting."
He raised his wand, unleashing a volley of Blasting Curses, Confringo, and Cutting Hexes. The vampires dodged with fluid grace, though a few spells grazed them, eliciting snarls of annoyance.
"He's toying with us," the female vampire snapped.
"Then we stop playing," Matthias growled.
The female vampire lunged, her nails gleaming like daggers. Harry twisted aside, using her momentum against her. With a flick of his wand, he cast a silent Cutting Curse. She barely avoided decapitation, but the spell struck her shoulder, drawing first blood.
The large vampire seized the opening, charging at Harry with devastating force. But Harry was ready. With a wandless Blasting Curse, he sent the massive vampire stumbling backward.
"Alright, I've had my fun," Harry said, his tone turning sharp. "Time to get serious."
With a complex wand movement, he conjured chains of magical fire. The flaming chains whipped through the air like serpents, catching the first vampire across the neck. Harry tightened the chain and yanked. The enhanced strength of the fiery chain severed the vampire's head cleanly from his body.
Harry followed up immediately with Fiendfyre, ensuring nothing remained but ashes. He didn't know the full extent of a vampire's abilities and wasn't about to take chances. Leaving no room for retaliation was the safest course.
The remaining two vampires stared in disbelief.
"He… he killed Viktor!" the female vampire cried, her voice tinged with fear.
The large vampire's eyes blazed with fury. "You'll pay for that!"
The two remaining vampires roared and charged, their attacks now reckless, fueled by rage rather than strategy. Harry exploited their blind fury, leading them into crossing each other's paths in their desperation to land a blow.
The female vampire overextended herself, and Harry capitalized. A sharp Cutting Curse found its mark, followed by another blast of Fiendfyre. She screamed as the flames consumed her, leaving only ash in their wake.
"Amara!" the large vampire bellowed, his voice raw with anguish.
Now alone, the towering vampire hesitated. Realizing the futility of his situation, he turned to flee. But Harry was faster. With a flick of his wand, magical ropes shot out, entangling the vampire and bringing him crashing down onto the cobblestones.
"Time to search for some information," Harry muttered, his tone cold and resolute.
The vampire struggled against the magical bindings, its glowing eyes blazing with defiance. "I won't tell you anything," it snarled, venom dripping from every word.
"We'll see about that," Harry replied evenly, stepping closer.
With deliberate caution, Harry placed his hand on the vampire's forehead, his wand at the ready. Focusing his intent, he whispered, "Legilimens."
The spell connected, but instead of memories or thoughts, Harry was met with an impenetrable void. The vampire's mind was fortified, a natural or trained resistance to intrusion blocking his efforts.
"Your kind's mental defenses are impressive," Harry admitted, pulling back and lowering his hand.
The vampire spat at his feet, its expression a mixture of hatred and pride. "Kill me, then. I'll tell you nothing."
Harry nodded slightly, almost respectfully. "So be it." With a final flick of his wand, he cast a sharp Cutting Curse, immediately followed by a surge of Fiendfyre. The roaring flames consumed the vampire entirely, leaving behind only ash.
Harry stepped back, exhaling deeply as the acrid scent of smoke filled the air. "Unfortunate," he said quietly, "but necessary."
Turning his attention to Macnair, Harry scanned the area with several detection spells, ensuring there were no lingering threats or hidden observers. The trap had been obvious in hindsight—the vampires' presence was no coincidence. Someone or something had tipped them off. The question was how they knew to be here and why they were ready for him.
"I need information," Harry thought grimly. "But first, I need to erase all evidence of this encounter."
He moved swiftly, casting a series of powerful cleansing charms. Magical signatures vanished, and the physical traces of the confrontation were meticulously wiped away. He worked more thoroughly than usual; this wasn't the kind of scene he could afford to leave behind.
Satisfied with his efforts, Harry turned his focus back to Macnair. With a wave of his wand, he levitated the unconscious Death Eater, gripping his Elder Wand tightly as he prepared for a series of Apparitions.
"Let's make it difficult for anyone to follow," he mused.
Harry Apparated to a remote forest clearing, then to an abandoned warehouse, and after that to a desolate beach. Each jump created a convoluted trail, designed to confuse even the most skilled trackers. Finally, he arrived at his mountain sanctuary, a hidden fortress where he could interrogate his prisoner in total security.
In the cold, reinforced walls of the sanctuary, Harry lowered Macnair into a sturdy chair, binding him with enchanted ropes. As the Death Eater hung limply, unconscious and unaware, Harry's mind raced with questions.
The involvement of vampires in Voldemort's plans was a troubling new complication. Voldemort had never employed their kind in the canon timeline, and their allegiance raised dangerous possibilities. How had the alliance formed? How widespread was it? What other surprises might Voldemort have in store?
Harry's eyes hardened as he looked down at Macnair's still form. He couldn't afford to take anything for granted anymore. The game had shifted far from the familiar pattern of the original timeline, and he needed to be prepared for every eventuality.
"One way or another," Harry muttered, his voice like steel, "I'll get my answers."
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