HP: Night of the Wolf

Being at Potter Manor without his mother or father was a strange and unpleasant experience. It served only to remind him of his father's loss, and the absence of his mother only made him feel more alone.

Things really had changed in many regards over the past months, and not in ways he was fond of.

He was pleased that his mother was safe, away from Europe and the war, but he missed her dearly, and he missed his father.

Potter Manor was a large house, and it felt so empty.

Even stranger was playing host to one Arcturus Black. The two men were so different, yet so similar at the same time.

From sharing a relationship of mutual respect at school mostly due to family status, to having a vulnerable, prominent lord under his care was not something Charlus had expected.

For the first day since they arrived from Belgium, Arcturus had slept whilst he recovered from the worst of his injuries. However, the past few days since, Charlus had spent most of the time with the other man, whiling away the hours as they discussed what life had thrown at them since graduating Hogwarts.

The Lord Black had not had it easy by any stretch, and Charlus's respect for the man only grew the more he learned about him.

He would even go as far to say that he quite liked the man and admired him for what he'd endured and the resilience he'd shown all in the name of keeping his family affairs in order, and ensuring the reputation was not tarnished by the actions of the rest of his family.

With Arcturus here, Dorea arrived daily to check on him, to even chide him sometimes.

It proved to be quite the source of amusement for Charlus who never would have imagined the shy, quiet girl to have blossomed into the confident woman she was.

It was understandable really.

She too had endured the very same her brother had, and once more, Charlus found his admiration growing for another, as it already had been before what had befallen his father.

He released a deep breath as he nodded, shrunk the book he'd been poring over and placed it within his robes.

He'd been thinking about Dorea a lot since he'd brought Arcturus here.

Being away and fighting hadn't left him much time to think, and when he was granted a moment or two of peace, it had been his mother he had focused on.

Now, however, there was another, and the more time she spent here, the harder it was to get her off his mind.

He very vividly remembered the conversation he'd shared with his father about marriage, and the blessing he had bestowed upon Charlus to pursue her if he chose to.

If by some miracle he was ever to marry her, it would come as quite the shock to the other pureblood families, but thoughts of marriage were far from his mind for the time being.

He had a war to return to, and with the future so uncertain, he dared not envision what may one day be.

The odds of him surviving the conflict, returning home, and even being given the opportunity to court the woman were stacked against him.

Still, he wouldn't deprive himself the pleasure of her company whilst he was here.

He was but a man, after all, and there was little joy to be had in the world as it was.

"How're you feeling today, Black?" Charlus asked as he entered the guest room the man was occupying.

"Much better," Arcturus replied, peering over the top of the book he was reading. "There's a little weakness lingering, but I should be fine to return in a few days or so."

"Good," Charlus declared.

He was quite keen to get back to Belgium, not because he missed the war, the fighting, or being so far from home. He was eager to return to Harry, who was fulfilling Charlus's duties in his absence.

"Did I hear Dorea last night?" Arcturus asked.

Charlus nodded.

"You were asleep when she arrived from the hospital," he explained. "She checked your wounds and changed your bandages for you."

"I thought as much," Arcturus chuckled. "I was sure I heard raised voices."

Charlus snorted amusedly.

Evidently, it wasn't only Arcturus who was to be on the receiving end of chastisement from the woman.

Dorea had given him a piece of her mind too and all but made him promise he would be careful when they returned to Belgium.

"Your sister is a force to be reckoned with."

Arcturus nodded his agreement.

"That's your fault," he pointed out. "Since what you and Evans did for her at school, she became rather bold. Did you know she received more than twenty detentions in her last year of Hogwarts?"

"Whatever for?" Charlus asked, surprised by the revelation.

"Cursing her housemates mostly," Arcturus shrugged, a proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well, I won't apologise for that."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Arcturus replied. "Whatever you did for her was a good thing. She was always a quiet, passive girl when we were growing up. It turns out she just needed the right motivation to stick up for herself."

"Then I'm glad we could help," Charlus chuckled. "Speaking of which, I have an appointment with the Wizengamot to prepare for."

"The Wizengamot?" Arcturus asked curiously.

Charlus nodded.

"Harry had the idea of starting a charity to support the families of the men who are killed during the war. I'm going to pitch it to them tomorrow."

"That's an admirable undertaking," Arcturus said appreciatively. "I'll be happy to support it. Put me down for double whatever Malfoy offers. I won't let that git outdo me."

"Yaxley said that's what you would do."

"Yaxley?"

"He's with us in Belgium," Charlus explained. "Reginald Yaxley."

"Well, that is surprising," Arcturus mused aloud. "I never would have thought…"

"Me either, but he's been a big help to us out there. He even stayed a week in Hospital guarding Harry after he was hit by that muggle shell."

Arcturus shook his head in disbelief.

"War forges strange friendships."

"It does," Charlus agreed.

He turned to take his leave of the room, only to pause and remove the book he'd placed within his robes. He couldn't be certain why he suddenly felt so inspired to share the spells his family had created and accumulated over the centuries they'd existed, but it seemed to be the right thing to do.

As things stood, he and Arcturus were the last of their families, had both endured similar hardships, and were going to return to fight in a war that neither of them may survive.

If the worst were to happen, their families would end with them, and if that could be prevented through such a gesture, Charlus would sooner share what he had and perhaps save the life of the man he was hosting.

"Here," he said, throwing the book to Arcturus.

"What's this?" the man asked curiously.

"It is the Potter family Grimoire," Charlus explained. "If we are going to be fighting together, it could be useful for you to know that stuff."

Arcturus looked at him in disbelief.

Such a thing was unheard of.

Families guarded the secrets of their magic with their lives and did not share it with others. Not even the closest of allies did that.

"Then you should share mine," Arcturus decided. "Elgar!" he called.

A house-elf appeared by the side of the bed, one dressed almost exactly as Charlus would imagine one that belonged to the Blacks to appear.

"Fetch the family grimoire, Elgar," Arcturus instructed.

The elf looked between the two men questioningly for a brief moment before vanishing with a gentle pop and returned a moment later carrying the large tome.

"That will be all."

The elf vanished once more, and Arcturus gazed fondly at the book he held.

"If we are going to share this, we should make a promise that we will not use our family magics against each other," he suggested.

"Of course," Charlus agreed immediately.

Arcturus nodded gratefully.

"I already owe you a debt for saving my life," he pointed out. "A Black never forgets a thing like that, and this gesture, it's completely insane."

"But if it keeps us both alive, then it will be worth it," Charlus replied.

Arcturus nodded.

"I don't plan to die in the war, but I came dangerously close."

"As have I."

"Then we share what we have in the hope that it will be enough to see us home safely, so that our families can continue as our ancestors would wish."

Charlus nodded solemnly and offered his hand to the man who accepted it immediately.

There was no great display of magic to seal the promise made, but Charlus felt his own acknowledge that of the Lord Black, and judging by the look of surprise Arcturus wore, he felt it too.

"To coming home," Arcturus murmured.

"To coming home."

(Break)

Much to Harry's relief, there had been no further attempt from Grindelwald or his men to take back Belgium, not yet at least. They would try again eventually, but for the time being, the man seemed to be holding back from doing so.

The lack of activity did give Harry cause for concern, but he knew he was likely being overly cautious.

Grindelwald couldn't expect the ICW men to make the same mistake they had during his last push, especially if word had gotten out of Harry's reaction.

The Spaniard had needed treatment for a broken jaw and severe concussion, and the French commander had spent the days since doing everything he could to avoid Harry.

He wouldn't be able to do so forever, as much as he may wish.

They would be required to attend meetings together in the near future, and he would have to face up to what he'd done.

Already, Harry had penned a scathing letter to Abreo, ensuring each representative of the ICW received a copy in the process to ensure each of them knew what had happened and who was responsible for such a foolish move.

Usually, Harry wouldn't bother going to such lengths, but with the lives of the men on the line, he was taking no chances.

It had taken only a day for Abreo to respond, his own missive short and simply requesting Harry's presence to attend a meeting.

Harry had no qualms in doing so.

Abreo, although quite new to his role, was not an ignorant man who believed he knew better than any other. Thus far, he had proved himself willing to listen to ideas put forth to him, which made him a better choice than many would be.

His position was not one to be envious of, something he seemed to be acutely aware of.

"Are you sure about this?" Yaxley asked uncertainly, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

"Who else would I leave in charge whilst I'm not here?"

Yaxley shrugged and Harry took pity on the man.

"You will be fine," he said reassuringly. "I won't be gone for long, and if you need to kick anyone up the arse, you have my full blessing to do so."

Yaxley snorted as he shook his head.

"I'm not you, sir," he replied. "If I tried anything you did, I'd be murdered in my sleep."

"Then you should be grateful that I'll be back before you go to bed," Harry quipped.

Yaxley laughed, though it wasn't difficult to see he was still nervous.

"I trust you, Reg," Harry offered sincerely. "You probably won't have to do anything, and even if you do just send for me and I'll be back."

Yaxley nodded gratefully.

"I'll do my best," he promised.

"Good, I don't think I will be any more than a few hours. I will see you then."

With his parting words given, Harry tapped the letter he'd received from Abreo with his wand and vanished from Belgium for what would only be a short while.

He arrived in the now familiar office of the Supreme Mugwump who was seated behind his desk, as absorbed in his paperwork as Harry often found himself.

"Please, take a seat, Commander Evans," Abreo offered.

Harry did so and waited for the man to finish signing off the documents he was poring over.

When he was done, Abreo looked at him speculatively for a moment before shaking his head.

"I understand that the latest battle did not go according to plan."

Harry snorted as he shook his head.

"It would have had it not been for the Spanish prat and the French Commander."

"I heard there was some unpleasantness," Abreo sighed. "I had my fellow countryman in here shortly after the incident."

"You mean the one where he and his stupidity cost the lives of almost one hundred men?"

"He wasn't so forthcoming with that piece of information," Abreo replied. "He was most displeased with your conduct."

"Not as displeased as I was with his," Harry returned irritably. "I do not take kindly to men being killed because of someone else's incompetence."

Abreo nodded as he released a deep breath.

"Be that as it may, you cannot vent your frustrations how you did."

"A punch in the mouth was the least both deserved. They're lucky I held back," Harry pointed out. "I will not tolerate the bullshit they pulled. Grindelwald's men were retreating, and they decided to leave a defensive position to pursue them, resulting in the needless death of many men."

Abreo chuckled.

"You're an admirable young man who cares for those he is charged with," he praised. "There are few who could be in the position you find yourself in and carry the burden so well. Personally, and this is to stay between us, the Spaniard got off lightly and the French Commander even more so. I abhor foolishness, and both seem to have quite the proclivity for it. Officially, however, I must be seen to be doing something."

"So, what's my punishment?" Harry asked. "Are you going to demote me?"

"Absolutely not," Abreo denied immediately. "You are an excellent leader that the men look up to. In time, I would see you leading them without the need of incompetent fools undermining you. That cannot be until I have discussed it with the representatives."

Harry frowned questioningly at the man.

"Let us not pretend, Commander, that we would be where we are without your efforts, that our numbers would not be significantly less without your actions. I am not a fighting man, but you are, and a leader that we need if we are going to win this war."

"You still haven't told me my punishment."

Abreo leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Commander, when was the last time you were home?"

"Not since June," Harry explained.

Abreo nodded his understanding.

"Then I'm giving you a week's leave to rest up and think about your actions towards your colleagues."

"That's it?" Harry asked sceptically.

"That's it," Abreo assured him. "From my understanding, your second in command is a capable man, as respected as you are amongst the men. I'm sure he will cope in your absence."

"He's not here at the moment."

"No?" Abreo questioned.

Harry shook his head.

During the last battle, one of the men was severely injured and Charlus took him home to be healed. He was the victim of a very unpleasant curse that needed specialist attention."

"When are you expecting him back?"

"In around a few days."

With a light frown marring his features, Abreo wrote out a note on a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.

"When he returns, he will relieve you of your duty and you will take your leave for seven days."

"What if there is a battle?"

"Have your men not mastered your most ingenious means of communication?"

Most had.

Harry had been drilling the men the same way he had the DA during his fifth year. It had taken hours of work on his and their part collectively, but almost all of them could cast the patronus charm now.

"They have."

"Then I'm sure you will be informed if your presence is required," Abreo said dismissively. "One week, Commander Evans. I think the rest will benefit you greatly."

Harry nodded as he stood.

He wasn't keen on leaving the men for so long but knowing he could be back in a matter of moments if needed certainly eased his mind.

"What will happen to the French and Spanish Commanders for what they did?"

Abreo smiled at the question.

"Well, if I cannot find a way to promote you through the ICW, then there is nothing stopping me demoting them for their actions, but that is for another day. Enjoy your leave, Commander, you have more than earned it."

Harry took the dismissal for what it was before activating the portkey that had brought him here once more.

"A week," he murmured to himself as he arrived back in the apothecary.

At the very least, he would be away from the rancid smell of stale potion ingredients, and he would get to see Minerva.

The thought brought a smile to his lips.

It had been so long since he had seen any of his friends other than Charlus. He missed them all of course, but Minerva more than any other.

Ever since he'd arrived as little more than a broken boy who was mourning yet another loss, she had been there, had helped with what he was going through more than any, even if their first meeting had been embarrassing for them both.

The memory still made him cringe internally, but looking back knowing the woman as well as he did, it was not as embarrassing as it was amusing.

Minerva still mentioned it from time to time, and even reminded him of the hours he'd spent supervising her whilst she was mastering her transformations.

Back then, it was perhaps the most awkward experience of Harry's life, but now, he cherished those memories.

As teenagers, maybe those times weren't as innocent as both of them had made them appear to be.

Harry had been attracted to Minerva back then, and though he was quite inexperienced in the ways of women, as he was now, he was not so ignorant to believe that she wasn't attracted to him too.

Still, they had been young, and Harry lacked any confidence and Minerva had never really pushed him beyond mild embarrassment with her comments or actions.

Now, Harry didn't know what would happen if he found himself in such a situation.

He was still inexperienced, but he was not so introverted as he had been, and he and Minerva had only grown closer over the years.

He shook his head of those thoughts.

He missed her.

In every conceivable way he missed her. From the simpler times they'd shared before the war had broken out, to even when he was working against Grindelwald in his capacity as a Hit-wizard, she had been there, and he missed her.

He missed the awkwardness, her warmth, and even the inappropriateness that was the first person he'd met the night he'd arrived.

But he would be seeing her soon.

After months of only sharing letters, he would be with her, and though it would only be for a short while, he would cherish that time, as he did all the others.

(Break)

"The Harry Evans Fund for the Families of the Fallen?" Minister Fawley asked appreciatively.

Charlus nodded.

It was his first time addressing the Wizengamot as the lord of his family, and already he was causing quite the stir.

Had he not spent so many hours in this room with his father, he would perhaps be more nervous than he felt. Or maybe it was that he had stood face to face with men that were trying to kill him that speaking in front of the other lords and ladies seemed quite trivial in comparison.

"How very ego-driven," Lord Malfoy drawled.

He made no attempt to conceal his scathing remark, and Charlus merely raised an eyebrow at the man.

Most would be intimidated by Magnus Malfoy, but Charlus was not.

"Mr Evans was insistent that his name not be included in the title of the fund, but unfortunately for him, he was outvoted."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled, but he didn't comment further.

"Ah, my son Reginald, he is fighting side by side with Commander Evans, wrote to me and mentioned this endeavour. He made a very compelling argument to support it."

Charlus offered the man a grateful nod.

"Reg is a highly thought of, and valued member of our team," he said diplomatically. "In my absence, he is acting as the group's second in command, and I am certain he is doing an admirable job."

Lord Yaxley beamed at the praise.

"This fund," Lord Boot cut in, "all of the proceeds will be going to the families of men killed in action?"

"Of course," Charlus assured the man, "and the first five-thousand galleons has been donated by Commander Evans himself. I will be matching the donation."

Murmurs followed the declaration.

Five-thousand galleons was not a negligible sum for most pureblood families.

"A very generous gesture," Lord Yaxley said appraisingly. "Not all of us are so wealthy that we can hope to follow suit, but I will gladly part with one-thousand galleons for such a worthy cause."

"As will I," Lord Selwyn declared, though reluctantly.

This was what Charlus had anticipated and hoped for.

Rivalries existed between certain lords, and there would be those willing to do whatever necessary to outdo the other.

"I will personally donate one thousand galleons also," Minister Fawley announced to the approval of the room.

"As always, you can count on the Malfoys to do their bit," Lord Malfoy broke in. "Six thousand galleons will be made available."

The other lords and ladies whispered amongst themselves at the unexpected input from Magnus Malfoy, who Charlus knew was only doing so in a bid to show off his wealth.

"With Lord Black's pledge of twelve-thousand galleons, we will certainly see that no widow or child will go without."

"Lord Black has agreed to such a sum?" Minister Fawley asked.

Charlus nodded.

"He was quite insistent."

The Minister looked amusedly towards Magnus Malfoy who had a red tinge about his pale cheeks.

He was undoubtedly fuming about being outdone by Arcturus.

"I am sure we can all afford a donation of sorts," Lord Bones interjected. "My son died fighting this war, and he would be proud for me to advocate this undertaking by Commander Evans."

Whether this was Bones' intention, almost every lord and lady in the chamber began declaring their support, and Charlus knew that the coffers for the charity Harry had set up would soon be overflowing with gold, enough to make a difference to those who would need it most.

He listened as promises were made, as more lords attempted to outdo others with their generosity, and by the time the meeting was called to an end, he left knowing that the charity would be a resounding success.

Another feather in the cap of his friend.

Arriving back at Potter Manor, Charlus decided to check in on Arcturus who would likely be sleeping, something that did not deter him from looking in on the other man.

"How did it go?" Arcturus asked as he peered around the door.

The man was engrossed in the book Charlus had lent him, and much more alert than he had been since he'd been cursed.

"As well as can be expected," Charlus replied happily. "You owe the charity twelve-thousand galleons."

Arcturus nodded.

"You'll have it," he replied with a shrug.

The Potters were certainly not paupers, but even to them, twelve-thousand galleons was an exceedingly hefty sum.

He knew the Blacks were rich, but no one was sure of just how rich they were.

For Arcturus to be so blasé about such a figure, they were evidently much wealthier than Charlus had thought.

"I'm sure you would have enjoyed Malfoy's reaction," he snorted.

"That I do not doubt," Arcturus replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Before my father lost his mind, he always said there was nothing more satisfying than reminding a Malfoy that they will always be beneath us. I think he might have been right."

Charlus chuckled as he shook his head.

"I don't think my family has any rivalry," he mused aloud.

"No, I don't suppose any of your ancestors were petty enough to instigate or be caught up in one," Arcturus said thoughtfully. "I don't know how mine got embroiled in one with the Malfoys, but it was probably the fault of one of my predecessors. Quite a few of those were petty. Anyway, I think I will be well enough to return to Belgium tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Charlus asked.

He was restlessly anticipating returning himself.

Arcturus nodded.

"We are needed there more than ever."

"We are," Charlus agreed, "but I'm sure Harry won't mind if you need another day or so."

Arcturus shook his head.

"I feel fine," he assured the Potter lord as he looked at him speculatively. "You and Evans became really close friends, didn't you?"

Charlus nodded as he smiled.

"He's a good man who has done more for the war than any other," he replied sincerely. "Even taking that out of the equation, I've not met anyone like him. He's kind, caring…"

"And a vicious bastard when he needs to be," Arcturus broke in with a grin.

"That too," Charlus acknowledged, "but only to those who deserve it. He's more of a brother than a friend, and my mother treats him like a son."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

Charlus shook his head.

"Oddly enough, no," he answered honestly. "It was like he became one of us the minute he walked into our house. Bloody hell, that was a while ago now."

"It seems only yesterday I was stopping Malfoy being a prat and provoking him," Arcturus snorted. "Had I known Evans could handle himself so well, I would have left him to it."

It had been for the best that Charlus and Arcturus had intervened all those years ago now.

Who knows what the fallout would have caused between the Gryffindors and Slytherins?

"Well, if we're returning tomorrow, you'd best enjoy what rest you can get," Charlus urged. "I'll let Harry know to expect us, and I'll send for your sister. She'll want to check you over before we leave."

Arcturus released a deep breath but nodded, nonetheless.

"Did she give you a hard time when I was sleeping the other day?" he asked curiously.

"You could say that," Charlus muttered amusedly. "She's definitely not shy about putting her point across."

"No, she isn't," Arcturus laughed. "She's very much like our mother, but still undoubtedly a Black when she loses her temper."

"Then I will stay clear when you tell her we are leaving tomorrow," Charlus quipped as he headed towards the door to send for the woman.

"COWARD!" Arcturus called after him.

Charlus was no coward.

If anything, he dreaded saying goodbye to Dorea for the fear that he wouldn't see her again.

As much as he was eager to return to Belgium, being home even for the brief time had made him realise what it was he wanted when the war was over.

He knew that there was little chance he could have it, but it gave him something, even if it was only a dream to fight for.

(Break)

With a flourish, Harry signed the last of the pile of missives that had accumulated over the past few days, his efforts having been spent training the men in his group and helping Yaxley to better understand his duties when acting as second in command.

It wasn't a position the man had much enthusiasm for, the same way Harry did not relish his own for the most part, but he hadn't complained.

As far as Harry was concerned, there was none better than Yaxley to fill it when he was required to.

"I don't see why I have to know this stuff," the man bemoaned. "Potter will be back today."

"And I will be leaving for a while," Harry revealed.

"You?" Yaxley asked worriedly.

Harry nodded but gave the man a reassuring smile.

"I have been ordered to take a week of leave, and when Charlus returns, I'll be off. You'll have to continue in your position a little longer. Besides, if one of us dies, you'll have the position permanently," he pointed out.

"Bugger that," Yaxley grumbled.

Harry gave the man a comforting squeeze of the shoulder.

"You will be fine," he said firmly. "I wouldn't have chosen you if I had any doubts that you could do it."

Although Reg wasn't suddenly brimming with confidence, Harry's endorsement made him stand a little straighter.

"I won't let you down, sir," he promised.

"I know you won't," Harry replied with a chuckle. "Now, Charlus will be back soon, and he is keen on having Lord Black join our group. I need you to find somewhere for him to bunk down."

"Arcturus Black?" Reg gasped.

Harry nodded.

"He will be arriving with Charlus."

"Bloody hell, he's the last person I would have expected to join the war on our side. Especially after his sister and brother joined Grindelwald."

"Well, Arcturus isn't like them, and he seems to want to prove that he is loyal to Britain. You have to remember, Reg, his brother died serving Grindelwald. He has just as much reason to fight against the man as the rest of us."

Reg nodded his understanding.

"I'll find him somewhere," he assured Harry. "It can't be a bad thing having a Black on our side."

Harry was not going to disagree with that.

The Blacks may not be the most pleasant of families from what he had experienced, with Sirius being the exception, but Arcturus had never wronged Harry, and Dorea really had been a sweet girl.

He wondered momentarily if Charlus was still in contact with her.

The man hadn't mentioned her since they'd arrived in France all those months ago, but it was not as though Harry had pried.

Instead of dwelling on the complexity of that relationship, Harry finished packing his trunk before creating a portkey that would bring him here if he was needed during his absence.

As much as he was looking forward to returning home, he couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation that filled him at the thought of it.

He would be away from where he was most needed, and it had been months since he'd seen Britain or anyone there.

Instinctively, he flicked his wand into his hand as he felt two people arrive via portkey, the two of them greeted by the sight of it being levelled at them.

"Well, that's a nice welcome," Charlus commented dryly.

Harry snorted as he returned his wand to his holster.

"You can never be too careful."

"You're starting to sound like Moody," Charlus replied with a grin. "Are you becoming a mad bastard too?"

Harry laughed as he pulled the man into a tight embrace, relieved to see him back here, even if their reunion would be very brief.

When they broke apart, Charlus gestured to the other man that had arrived with him.

"You remember Arcturus Black."

Harry nodded as he offered the man his hand.

It was readily accepted.

"Evans," Black greeted him cordially enough.

"Have you given any though to him joining us?" Charlus asked.

"I have, and I see no issues with it," Harry replied. "Yaxley is finding him somewhere to sleep. You'll just have to fill in the transfer request and forward it to Abreo. I've already told him to expect it."

"Why can't you fill it in?" Charlus questioned.

"Because I have been ordered to take leave for a week as punishment for what I did to the Spanish Commander."

"What did you do?"

"Thumped him for being a prat," Harry answered with a shrug.

Arcturus snorted as Charlus shook his head.

"And you were given a week off?"

"That's about right."

"So, I have to be in charge of this lot?"

"You do, and Yaxley will continue on as your second in command until I return."

"You're leaving now?" Charlus asked as Harry shrunk and pocketed his trunk.

"I am," Harry answered simply. "Welcome to the team, Black."

With that, he activated his portkey, feeling uneasy about leaving, but equally looking forward to a reprieve of sorts from the war.

(Break)

Once more, a rather dull and sombre mood had settled over the students within the castle. They had returned from their first Hogsmeade outing the previous day having learned of the bombing campaign instigated by the Germans on Britain.

Evidently, none of the parents had wished to alarm their children whilst they were away from home so had not told them of it.

Hogsmeade, however, was abuzz with the news of the destruction wrought by the planes that would deposit tonnes of explosives on the country.

London had been the worst hit, but many other cities had not been spared the onslaught.

The bombing had been going on for weeks, and aerial battles between the two nations had ensued, but being as far north and remote as Hogwarts was, it had not witnessed these occurrences.

Even Minerva had not been told of them by her own parents, and though both were okay, it did little to assuage her worries.

Still, as much as her thoughts were with her mother and father, she did all she could to help the students through this latest undertaking in the muggle war.

None of the students had lost their parents yet, but if the bombing continued, it was only a matter of time.

"Well. That is a surprise," the voice of the headmaster interrupted her thoughts.

She looked towards the man who was positively beaming, his eyes fixed on the door to the Great Hall.

Minerva frowned at him questioningly, as did the other members of staff, but the attention of all of them shifted to the door as it opened.

The subdued chatter of the students ceased immediately as a lone man entered, his eyes sweeping across the hall before they came to rest on Minerva who had already stood.

Without thought, she raced towards him, sending her chair crashing to the floor before clearing the length of the hall and wrapping her arms around him.

She didn't know when she had begun to cry, but by the time she came to her senses, she was clinging to Harry with her head buried in his chest, relieved to see him alive and well.

For the students, it was quite the sight to witness the usually stern woman lose her composure in such a way.

If they were not seeing it for themselves, none would have believed it.

"I'm sure you will all join me in welcoming Commander Evans to Hogwarts," Armando spoke, his words eliciting excited whispers from the gathered students. "Would you do us the honour of your company for dinner, Harry?"

Harry nodded and Minerva took him by the hand and led him to the staff table where he was inundated with handshakes and more familiar hugs from those he had stayed in touch with.

"Harry," Rosalina greeted him fondly, sweeping him up in her arms.

The students again would not believe the usually reserved and rather cold woman was capable of anything akin to affection, their next bout of fervent whispers attesting to that.

"Alright, let him breathe," Armando chuckled as he conjured a chair and placed it next to Minerva's. "Come, eat Harry. I can't imagine the fare you have grown used to can compare to a hearty meal at Hogwarts."

"Definitely not," Harry snorted as he took his seat.

Minerva followed suit, her eyes not leaving him.

She was almost scared to look away in case he simply disappeared.

"Is there any chance of some treacle tart?" Harry asked.

Minerva tutted amusedly as Armando nodded.

"I'm sure that wouldn't be too much trouble to arrange."

Only a moment later, Harry was tucking into his meal, a piping hot, treacle tart awaiting him when he was finished.

Throughout it all, the students watched him in awe, many looking as though they wanted nothing more than to speak with him, though they were too shy to initiate conversation.

Their own meals had been forgotten, and as Harry polished off the last mouthful of the large tart, he leaned back in his chair and became acutely aware of all the eyes on him.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked Minerva.

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Are you really Commander Evans?" a second year Gryffindor asked.

"Of course he is, you prat," the boys friend replied. "We've all seen him in the paper."

"The paper?" Harry questioned.

Minerva felt her amusement rise.

She wouldn't usually take joy in the discomfort of others, but because it was Harry, she would allow it this once.

"Do you have no idea of your appearances in The Daily Prophet?" Slughorn scoffed.

Harry shrugged.

"I've seen some of them," he answered.

Minerva snorted.

Trust Harry to have no understanding of the reputation he had carved for himself since he'd been away.

He really was quite dense at times.

"Well, your feats are exceptional, Harry," Armando pointed out. "You cannot blame the students for their curiosity."

"It's not just us, Professor," another Gryffindor called out, nodding towards Minerva.

"That's enough from you, Mr Weasley!" Minerva chastised, though she felt her cheeks redden, and the boy was undeterred from her chiding.

He simply grinned in response, and Minerva couldn't pretend to be really angry.

She was too happy for that.

"Will you be spending the night, Harry?" Armando questioned. "I can have a room prepared for you."

Minerva's gaze returned to him, and as he met it, his gaze softened as he nodded.

"I would appreciate it," he replied.

Armando smiled before turning his attention to the students.

"I'm sure Commander Evans is quite tired, but I do not think he would be opposed to joining us for breakfast in the morning where you will have the opportunity to speak with him more. Until then, I ask that you allow him to have some well-deserved rest."

The students groaned disappointedly but took the hint of dismissal and began filing out of the hall, some offering Harry a wave as they left.

"I apologise for putting you on the spot, Harry," Armando sighed, "but you would have not gotten a moment's peace had I not. Many of them look up to you and are a little overwhelmed by your arrival."

"It's okay," Harry assured the headmaster. "I suppose it's not easy for them being here and not knowing much of what is happening."

"I'm sure that's it," Slughorn snorted sarcastically. "Come off it, Evans. If you had posters made, they'd be pinned up in every common room and dormitory in the castle."

"Note to self, don't create posters," Harry muttered in reply.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Minerva suggested, noticing the shift in Harry's demeanour.

He nodded and stood.

"Your room will be on the fifth floor," Armando informed him, "behind the portrait of the wolf howling at the moon."

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully before Minerva all but dragged him from the hall and into the grounds.

It had been so long since she had seen him, and though she knew it was selfish to want him to herself, she didn't care.

(Break)

Tom watched as Evans and McGonagall left the castle, the urge to curse the man quite overwhelming. He would never forget that Evans had tried to kill him once, and Tom would return the favour, when the time was right.

Evans would one day be nothing to him, an insect to crush beneath his heel, and the world would know then that he was the powerful wizard they should look to, not Harry Evans.

Tom's nostrils flared before he pocketed his wand and headed towards the dungeons, envisioning the look of shock on Evans' face when Tom would eventually kill him, the smile gracing the teen's lips full of malice and joy in equal measure.

(Break)

Harry startled awake, sliding his wand into his hand as he breathed in short, sharp bursts. It had been many years since he had woken up in such a state, the last being when he was a child.

He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming of, but it wasn't what had woken him.

No, it had been the silence of the room he found himself in.

He had come to learn that silence was not a good thing on the frontlines, and even here where he was safe from coming under attack, the silence haunted him.

Releasing a deep breath to calm himself, he kicked the duvet off him and fetched a glass of water from the pitcher a house-elf had likely left on the bedside table.

It was only 2am, and he already knew that sleep would not come again easily.

He had grown used to the constant activity of others around him, and even the distant sounds of the muggles fighting in the distance.

Here, there was none of that, and it was unsettling to say the least.

Not that he was opposed to being back in Britain.

This was his home and he had missed it dearly, among other things.

He and Minerva had spent a few hours walking through the grounds, just like they had when they were students here. It was a welcome familiarity, simple, but with how complicated life had become in recent months, it was what he'd needed.

They'd parted reluctantly a little after midnight, and Harry had come to his room to get some rest, though that was unlikely to happen now.

Even during his most trying times as a child, he'd managed to sleep better than he did as an adult.

Maybe when the war was over that would change, but Harry wasn't going to hold his breath.

He found he needed less sleep ever since Nicholas had conducted the ritual shortly after Harry had travelled back so far in time.

Did he simply need less rest now?

Harry didn't know, but sleep was no longer something he indulged in much.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, and with his wand in hand, he opened it to be greeted by the sight of Minerva, her expression one of nervousness before she steeled herself.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, closing the distance between them, and crashing her lips against his.

This wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared thus far.

Those had all been chaste in comparison, a gesture of the affection they shared between them.

This was one born of passion, of wanton desire, a longing she chose to display in this manner in lieu of speaking.

Boldly, the woman kicked the door closed behind her and Harry worked his hands through the back of her hair before catching himself.

He rested his forehead on hers, both of them breathing heavily.

"Don't stop," Minerva whispered.

Harry didn't want to.

The last thing he wanted was for this moment to end.

"We shouldn't," Harry murmured. "What if…"

Minerva pressed a finger to his lips.

"Right now, Harry, I don't care," she replied. "I don't care about what might happen tomorrow or next week. I just want to enjoy this and forget about everything else."

She meant what she said, and as Harry met her gaze, he felt his resolve crumble.

He couldn't deny Minerva anymore than he could himself, and without another word, kissed her with the same hunger, the same need, and the same want she had he only a moment ago.