Harry Potter's revenge

Crack!

Daphne, still on Harry's arm, appeared on the top of another hill. She quickly looked around.

"What's that?" she asked, examining a landscape filled with grass and rocks. The rocks were laid out in a big circle filled with lots of smaller squares and circles. It looked like a blueprint drawn in the earth.

"That is Grimspound," Harry replied. "It's an ancient Bronze Age settlement — both muggles and magicals lived there, probably either druids or Viking rune-smiths — hard to say though. It was named after grim, the god of war, or Odin as he's better known today. The muggles bred cattle while the magicals bred unicorns."

"It's beautiful."

"If we walk down we can go explore it. It's a really cool place."

Harry wiggled his arm and she realised she was still holding it, and quickly let go, face flushing red. It had felt entirely too natural.

Five minutes later, Daphne was running from ruined hut to ruined hut, thoroughly enjoying the squelching feeling of her boots in the boggy ground around the settlement.

"I don't suppose there are still unicorns around are there?" she called over to Harry who sat atop a stone pillar — the remains of a large gate.

"Afraid not," he called back. "The only herd in England is in Cumbria."

She stilled. "Where I live?"

"Yeah."

"You mean, I've lived near a unicorn herd all my life, and didn't know it?"

"Sounds like it."

"Damn," she whispered.

"You okay?" He walked closer.

"Sorry, Harry. I think I just realised how little I've seen of the world. I was raised in Greengrass Manor. I've been to the other manors of the ancient and noble houses, and occasionally the alleys, but that's it. My idea of outside, up until now, has been the garden, but this," —she gestured to the vast expanse of moorland— "is so much more."

Harry smiled. "Want to see even more?"

"Yes!"

Several hours of hiking across moorland later and Daphne found herself in front of a gate leading into a wood.

"And this place is?" she asked, still breathless from the long hike over the hills. She had never felt like this before. She felt so… alive.

"This is Yarner Wood. The muggles have a bird nesting program going on here, so there are a lot of different species in there."

"Then let's go." Daphne grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

Soon she was surrounded by the happy sounds of songbirds.

"It's winter at the moment, so there aren't as many as other times of the year, but its still nice, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is," she said. It was so tranquil.

"We've still got a ways to go — c'mon." This time, Harry grabbed her hand.

"Gah!"

Three hours later, Daphne was exhausted. She felt like they'd walked all over this forest. She'd cooed over bird boxes and pointed, excited, to every bird she'd seen.

Harry seemed distracted though.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting on a convenient rock to catch her breath. Her calves, thighs, and butt were on fire.

"Yeah, just didn't feel what I was looking for."

"What were you looking for?"

"I'm on the lookout for a specific bird species. It's a little side project of mine. I'll let you know more later, but we should be heading back now."

"Okay." She paused, looking deep into his green eyes, before continuing, "Thank you for bringing me here, Harry."

"Hey, no problem, we're friends right?"

She smiled, hearing him say it felt nice. "Yeah, friends."

Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, arrived in the Wizengamot chambers. There was a group of wizards and witches standing in a huddle around one of the seats, and, with a politician's instincts for where the action was, he wandered over.

"Good morning, Jeffery. Good morning Richardson — Cliff — Abbott."

The wizard addressed as Jeffery turned.

"Good morning, Albus. Have you seen this?"

"No, I don't think—" Dumbledore froze, gaze falling on the crest adorning the back and arms of the chair the other wizard's had been crowding. "Ah, that… oh dear."

"Albus," said the one known as Richardson, "surely there has been some kind of mistake, or it is a joke."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. The Wizengamot chambers are controlled by the Albion family magics. There is no way to fool it — to do so, you'd have to tamper with the ancient magics woven by Merlin himself."

"Well then," another wizard said, "who is it? After all this time?"

"No doubt we are about to find out." Without fanfare, Dumbledore slid the elder wand out of its holster on his wrist, keeping it ready in his wand hand. He remembered damn well who the last heir was, and since there was currently no possibility of any other succeeding the line, that could only mean one thing. Somehow, Tom had found a way to both return, and finally claim the Lordship that had eluded the former Slytherin king all his life.

Was it all about to kick off again? Did he need to reconvene the Order? Was it time to grab Harry Potter from his muggle prison to let fate have her way with him?

As more wizards and witches flooded the chamber, the hubbub grew as rumours flew among them. Some voices were raised, some looked horrified, others fascinated, and yet others thought it was all a big joke.

Eventually the room, save one chair, was full, and Dumbledore rose to the podium of the Chief Warlock.

"Good morning Lords and Ladies, wizards and witches, of the Wizengamot, and welcome to the 1470th winter solstice since the establishment of the Albion family magics. Normally this would be a somewhat standard session, however, it seems we have an old family seat reactivated."

A susurration of murmuring filled the chamber.

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