Sorry I've not updated this in awhile, it took a bit to work out in my head first. I hope that you like.
He was standing in the rain. He hated it. He never before liked the rain. It was cold, and while cold wasn’t something that he was unaccustomed to it was still a reminder of a dark place that he spent over twenty-three years in. Azkaban, while hailed by the wizarding world as a prison for the darkest sorts of wizard also had a minimum security ward for crimes committed on a lesser scale. The dementors still patrolled the prison, but per contract didn’t visit this particular wing. They did, however, come close enough to enhance the miserable feelings that were promoted as a means of punishment.
Gordon, standing in the rain, had to briefly close his eyes as a gust of wind caused the rain to shift and beat against his face. He was standing along Grimmauld place, in London. All of his sources had paid off and in unison said that something was going to happen here, tonight. He took it with a grain of salt, as the muggle expression goes, but when source after source confirmed it he had to be here, just in case.
Years in Azkaban had provided some time for odd bits and bobbles of clarity to sift into his somewhat lucid mind. He talked with the guards as they came and brought his thrice meals of the day. He relished in the confirmation that that traitorous cheating bitch he called his ex, Bellatrix Lestrange, nie Black, had been incarcerated. There were years upon years that he begged the guards to allow him just a brief moment of time to spend with her. He only wanted to spit in her face, to egg her on in her torment after what she had put him through. It was answered with volumes of laughter and torment. They wouldn’t go for it, and the worse of it all came only two years ago when the Dark Lord came.
He never came to his cell, of course. Minimum security was well below what would have sparked his interest. The one that did visit was Bella. She came to his cell and stood there. Here beautiful visage was marred with years spent in the close and direct contact of the dementors. The insanity was ever-present and gripped a hold on his heart and threatened to not let go. Her crystal clear blue eyes were now fogged with a darkness that made them appear to be like the lower amethyst. She didn’t do anything but stare at him with a vague recollection and in the back of it all a deep hurt that made the last two years echo over and over again.
The two years beyond that were not good. Manslaughter was the official term, and he received twenty years. He got another three for his reaction to the guards not allowing his confrontation. Perhaps he had been hasty but he had wanted to hurt her for what she had done to him. The complete and utter betrayal and with that of his brother had been unforgivable. He had had enough, and it eventually came done to fist to cuffs with James, but in the end, when he found that the Imperious Curse had been used upon her to perform such degrading acts, well, he took it to the performs.
Disillusioned and under his own invisibility cloak at number sixteen Grimmauld place his stood stock still has he heard the familiar sounds of apparation. The familiar black cloaked figures with the bone white masks quickly assembled before dispersing and placing themselves under disillusionment. He had to fight against his first impulse to the point that he felt his own teeth grinding against themselves. There was such hatred within himself now that they were here. They may have not been present or even taken part in what they had ultimately done to him but that didn’t mean they weren’t guilty of something else.
Time seemed to stand still, now. He knew that they were there but they were utterly clueless that he was there. It was only Five in the afternoon and he knew the Hogwarts Express had only landed in Kings Cross. They were there on their master’s orders because of what had happened. Voldemort had left his nephew nowhere else to go. It was a trap that he had heard rumors that Severus Snape had planned immaculately. That bastard would pay and pay with his life if Gordon had anything to say about it.
Severus Snape had betrayed Bellatrix, Regulus and Gordon, himself, and that was completely without par. He didn’t like the greasy git, and that was not only just saying something but had become Dogma for the past twenty three years. Of course Regulus had been next in the acts of betrayal. He had joined the Death Eaters as a direct result of their other best friend and blood Brother. Now, he understood why Sirius and his own brother, James, had called him Snivellus. He really was the lowest of the low.
Part of his regulated torture while being in a minimum security ward in the wizarding prison known as Azkaban was that whenever there was news pertaining even the most indirectly he was given the Daily Prophet or by word of mouth, if the printed word was unavailable. Therefore, he heard all about Severus Snape’s declaration as being a spy for Dumbledore, which had come as a mild relief, and then later to hear of the folley’s of his nephew, Harry. There were many things that had been printed about him within the past six years and most of them he tried to take with a grain of salt, hoping against hope that he was more like his mum than that idiot of a brother he still had to claim.
James was the oldest and therefore the heir of the Potter fortune, and while he was tucked away on some trumped up charges his Gringotts accounts had remained his own, although less substantial than that of his brother. Gordon learned of remarkable events that seemed to transpire each and every year for Harry and while he was allowed parchment and quill to write home, he didn’t feel that contact with Harry would be prudent. He didn’t feel that Harry would get along well with him, and frankly didn’t want to take the risk to see whether or not he would even consider having much of a relationship with him whatsoever.
He knew that Sirius had been captured and placed in maximum security for the betrayal of James and Lily and while that was something that he believed to be far-fetched, most of the guards that he intereacted with on a daily basis had contrary opinions on the matter. Unfortunately, being in maximum security, the dementors patrolled those corridors alone without human interaction, and so there was only ever speculation on the event.
The summer following Harry’s second year, he, like Sirius, did receive a copy of the same Daily Prophet showing a clear Peter Pettigrew in the hands of Harry’s friend, Ronald Weasley, and he equally came to the same conclusion, that Peter had set a few things in motion. While not as brash or seemingly cunning as James or Sirius, Peter was just plain sneaky and didn’t talk much when it came to his involvement with what the Marauders had gotten up to. Gordon was leery of the boy and found just cause plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet.
Snapping from his musings, he found himself standing in the same downpour of rain, and while he couldn’t see familiar faces, the voices of Severus Snape, Rastaban Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and luckily Peter Pettigrew brought clarity to the reason why he was here. Malfoy and Lestrange he had debts of blood to pay. He was sorry that he hadn’t heard the voice of his brother and still secretly hoped was among the amassed. Pettigrew, well, you killed my brother, and with that it’s a honor debt that must be paid. There were others here, and judging by the voices, which were somewhat difficult to make out with the white noise of rain, he understood them to be of the newer recruit variety.
The time was here, and while it might not be now, just yet, Gordon was ready. The problem was visibility. The clouds above were heavy with rain and near pitch black. While still the late afternoon the street was also very dark. Thankfully, with the heavy clouds came thunder and bright lightning, which not only struck down sporadically, but also amongst the clouds which caused flashes.
‘How did I get myself into this mess?’ He wondered silently. He knew the answer of course. Sirius Black had died just a little over a year ago and with that a journal had been delivered to his cell. To say that he was irate upon receiving it would be putting things well below perspective, but even with that being said, with it in hand he had it in shreds within minutes. The first page had been a direct mockery of him, bringing him back to school days. The boy, while not having any sisters had three cousins, Andromeda, Narcissa and his Bellatrix, or Bella, which he defended constantly even though they did not get along whatsoever. Sirius hated Gordon and Gordon felt equally about the one whom stole away his brother and one time best friend.
Unfortunately the journal was charmed and seconds later the tattered and shredded confetti knitted themselves back together again, seemingly new and fresh sitting mockingly mere feet from him where he had originally let it fall. Cursing himself because he fell for it immediately and ripped it to shreds a second time only for him to see the same results of a repaired journal. Gordon shook his head in utter frustration, and was shocked, which he picked up the book and opened the cover.
I know that I am probably the last person that you would ever wish to talk to, even with this medium, however there are things greater than hatred, and petty hatred at that. I make it known fully how I felt about you while were were in school, however, this needs to be gotten passed. You still have family, with both Harry and Nymphadora…Gordon shook himself out of his mental revelry. This wasn’t the time to be caught off guard. It wouldn’t do well to be here in the preparations of doing the right thing and be lost in thought as the many death eaters took out his objective. Harry came first and foremost.
Lightning flashed and the normal accompanied thunder masked the familiar sound of apparition. Gordon found himself not far from the only family he had. Harry Potter, looked so very much like his older brother, and at that point he was sure that was what he had heard for the past six years. He would never say anything about that. What he read and what he had heard would completely hinder him from falling into similar mistakes as his fellow wizards.
Gordon also immediately recognized the shortened stature of the very familiar Professor Flitwick. Gordon has spent many a night training with the man and had nothing but the utmost of respect for the vertically challenged killing machine. His hopes were raised just to above dismal at his presence.
There were a few others here that he didn’t recognize. A blonde, whose hand was firmly in Harry’s grasp. Someone whom could one be considered her father, based upon the resemblance and the dim link. There was two other women, one with bushy brown harry and another with shockingly pink and spiky hair. She certainly looks interesting, Gordon, thought, but then recognition came to light. The name, Nymphadora Tonks, and another of the Daily Prophet’s that had been deposited announcing the debacle at the Department of Mysteries just a little over a year ago. Sirius journal kicked in and he needed to protect her, as well.
London, Engand, UK 12 Grimmauld Place – Exterior
Harry Potter’s Point of View.
Bloody hell, he thought to himself. It had been raining at King’s Cross, he conceded. This torrential downpoor they came into with apparition was absolutely horrid. With his normal slight stumble, Harry quickly took stock of the situation that he found himself in. Tonks, Professor Flitwick, Luna, Mr. Lovegood, Hermione, Blaise and Daphne all present and account for. A quick sigh of relief, but was short lived and as mundane as it were the wind shifted direction, causing the rain to come as such an angle that it was literally stinging both flesh and at times eyes.
With a sudden speed from below Harry quickly watched as Professor Flitwick took out his wand and, one at a time, soundlessly cast an impenetrable charm against the weather. Sighing, a second time, Harry quickly grasped Luna’s hand, but as he did so, in that instant he felt the hairs on the back of his next rise. Something was amiss and it would do well to be on guard. Turning to look at Hermione, she caught on to what he was thinking and without wrist movement her wand was in her hand as well.
Luna looked around serenely and appeared to be in her other world until she met Harry’s gaze. The look went from whimsical to that of steel and determination. She was of the same accord as Harry, something wasn’t quite right.
“Professor, perhaps we should get on with it, shall we and then get out of this weather?” Harry asked hopefully to make it appear that it was the weather that was making them all out of sorts.
“Right you are, Mr. Potter. This really shouldn’t take that long at all.” They approached the very apparent number 12. The Fidelus was a thing of the past and while it was plain to see now, the neighborhood had been a relatively silent one in the past. Filius Flitwick took his wand firmly in hand and began waving his wand in an intricate pattern. To the untrained eye this was an amazing feet of magic. For those who knew what was actually happening, those that lurked in the dark awaiting to attack, they knew that they had to act quickly.
“Hem Hem!” A familiar voice was heard above the den of rain splatter against the asphalt. Harry, with lightning quick reflexes pulled Luna quickly behind him, masking the fact that her hair; which had been tied into a bun, held together by two simple sticks, one being her wand, fell to her shoulders, and she assumed a calm and serene expression on her face while taking a defensive stance.
“Umbitch!” Harry barely managing to keep his rage intact, while noticing at that same moment that several figures, cloaked in the same familiar black robes with accompanied white death eater masked walked from behind there disillusionment charms. Her look of distain was quite clear, but then another familiar voice broke the silence.
“Your arrogance …” Severus Snape started but was quickly ended by Harry’s first silent spell, a Reducto aimed toward the direction from where that voice came. A hastily brought up shield immediately collapsed beneath the force of intent, and Severus Snape made a snap decision that probably saved his life in diving off towards the left. The curse still struck true, somewhat in clipping his shoulder.
“The time for witty banter is over Snivellus you stinking coward.” Harry said angrily, losing sight of Deloris altogether. Sure, he should have taken the time to rationalize that he had an equal grievance with her, but with the presence of Snivellus Snivelling Snape, well, there was more important things in the world that an elderly toad-sprog and her fascination for pink cardigans.
“YOU’RE ANGRY, YES? FEELS GOOD THAT RIGHTEOUS ANGER, DOESN’T IT HARRY?” A voice that he hadn’t heard before whatsoever called out from another direction, and a snap decision to cast an even stronger Reducto towards its direction.
It proved to be amusing as Harry quickly came to terms with his miscalculation on this point. The owner of that voice wasn’t dressed as the others whatsoever. He wore robes, yes, but instead of the familiar black robes his were a deep crimson, to the point that the rain, which still poured down upon them made the fabric glisten like freshly spilt blood. Their border, which might have been considered golden at one point was a metallic mustard sort of yellow.
Harry watched in anticipation as his curse soared towards his target. The man stood stock still as if awaiting the curse to hit him, however just before impact he did the oddest sort of wand gesture, catching the curse with the tip of his wand before redirecting the curse towards the conversation’s instigator, Deloris Umbridge.
During the brief interaction, the man’s face had been obscured by the hood of his cloak. However, once that spell had been directed elsewhere, he reached up and quickly removed the hood for all to see.
“Gordon Potter, you bastard!” Rastaban Lestrange screamed at the top of his lungs however some of the other senior Death Eaters at the scene could only gasp. “Crucio!” He muttered, sending the sickeningly yellow curse hurtling towards Gordon with a grin of satisfaction, only to watch Gordon, again standing stock still, catching the unblockable and unforgivable curse and redirecting it amongst the death eater masses.
“AMATEURS! RANK AMATEURS AT THAT! IS THIS TRULY THE BEST THAT YOUR HALF-BLOODED MASTER HAS TO OFFER!? ARE YOU GOING TO TICKLE ME WITH THREATS OF FALSE PAIN IN THE HOPES THAT I COWER IN FEAR? I MEAN IT WORKED FOR THE REST OF THE BLOODY WIZARDING WORLD, SO WHY NOT ME, YES?” Gordon was doing his best to antagonize the lot of them in the hopes of getting somewhat of a fight out of them, but they were too taken back by his presence. His plan was working as he thought that it should.
Harry Potter stood rooted where he was, looking toward a man he heard to be Gordon Potter, but who was he? Was he a relative? There were a million questions that were bouncing back and forth within his head. Why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned him before? Not even Remus or Sirius has said even a word about him, and none of the pictures that he had acquired over the years even so much as hinted that he existed at all. He would hold the former headmaster to take and hopefully seek answers from the portrait.
Then as the hood came down, he did see a certain familial resemblance. The uncontrollable hair had been a dead give-away, however instead of black it was a dirty blond and his eyes were blue instead of Hazel. He looked worse for wear judging by the scares upon his chin, but familiar nonetheless. There was also an unmistakable intensity in his eyes that promised his actions against those whom he considered to be his enemies would not be of the pleasant variety, whatsoever.
Harry found himself, at this very moment, all but forgotten by the forty plus Death Eaters whom found themselves at Grimmauld Place this evening. He had to think quick if he wanted those here to survive. Looking at the hesitation that was clear in the lack of actions by what he could only assume to be nooby DE’s, he quickly took a leadership role.
“Reducto on my mark, take aim and incapacitate, meaning take them out of the fight.” Harry said, looking towards his friends seeing their acknowledgement of his command.
“Harry, wait!” Hermione trying to interrupt desperately. “You can’t expect us to use the unforgivables, it would just be that, unforgivable.” Hermione tried desperately to argue. Harry was having none of it. There was a time for a debate and there was a time to fight.
“Hermione, now is not the time. Now is not the time to think yourself more clever than the death eaters, either. If you silence one of them where you could have reductoed them, I’ll kill you myself if you survive. We have to take them out by any means necessary,” He said, looking towards Blaise and Daphne seeing a true devious glint in both of their eyes. He turned back to Hermione, “The time to talk about this is afterwards when we discuss what we did to survive and what we will do differently if the situation presents itself, again.” He said, ending with what he hoped came across as a kind sympathetic look. She resigned herself to that of utter determination, wand at the ready.
“Now,” he said, and immediately started flinging Reducto after Reducto at the random death eater while he watch in horror as multiple Crucio and even Avada Kedavra’s headed towards the new player.
Harry couldn’t turn away as he watched this person faced with ten unforgivable curses headed his way. Patiently, he snatched each and every curse out of the air with a grace Harry had not seen used in combat, and without immediately displacing the spells. Lucius Malfoy removed his hood, standing only ten meters away from Gordon and sneared at the man before having to dive out of the way as all ten curses were immediately directed towards him.
Harry could only conclude that there hadn’t been any love lost between the Malfoy and Potter clan that predated his little squabbles with Draco Malfoy in the school yard. He was impressed but that was quickly interrupted as a Crucio quickly passed his right landing on the only Auror that had accompanied them.
Tonks screams were of utmost agony and were immediately accompanied by the angered scream of Gordon and someone else whom had only just Apparated into the field of battle. Her scream chilled Harry to the bone as he quickly whipped around to come face to face with none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.
Outside the Gardens - Black Citadel – Ravenscar – North York Moors
Bellatrix stood stock still, looking down at the freshly filled grave. Her suffering for all of these years was over at the hand of this man. There had been others. There still were others whom would have to pay. She didn’t stand at this grave and weep for that of a loving husband.
She stood here with resolve. There were too many times and too many years that had passed her by without love in her life and she had been partially responsible for that. James Potter. She completely and totally hated the name and the man. He had ruined everything. She had thought for the longest time, however, she also knew that they both had been the victim of a vicious prank. One that had changed the course of her life forever, she thought bitterly as she could still just close her eyes and see Gordon’s look of hatred at finding her in his brother’s bed apparently sated from a night of coupling.
Then nine months later, in Hogwarts Hospital wings she had to deal with the fact that the Potter and Black Families were totally intertwined. The shame that her mother expressed afterwards landed her with him, she thought bitterly, looking at the freshly displaced soil.
Walking back into the entrance to the Citadel, she noticed a mirror vibrating in front of a portrait of her mum.
“Blood traitor.” Was the only world that her mum’s portrait said, and she thanked herself lucky that her mum wasn’t quite as fanatical as Auntie Walpurga Black, Sirius and Regulus’ mum. It still made her hang her head in shame, but, it wasn’t for the fact that she was a blood traitor, and she made no mistake that is what she was. She had never wanted to follow her mum’s directions, she was too much like her older sister, Andromeda. She wished her mum had chosen a different path. However, the vibration quickly brought her to the realization that there was an attack very close to her former cousin’s house.
It was time. She checked herself in the mirror and couldn’t help by admire what stared back at her. Her previously black and crazed hair was more subdued and now tied in a long plate down her back. Her complexion was slightly more rosy, now that she wasn’t constantly plagued with the presence of Dementors. She had to go, she realized and she had never been one to be narcissistic. But at the same time, she was a realist. She was dressed smartly in Dragon-hide leather that took towards each curve and provided the maximum protection while still enchanted to allow for total mobility.
Time was of the essence. There were other death eaters that had to be there just besides one. She knew this because the charm to vibrate was set at an intensity level based upon the number of dark marks within the vicinity.
“Show me, number 12.” She stated clearly, and to her shock Gordon was there. She hadn’t expected to see him there trading blows with death eaters again after the trouble he received from the last time. Times had changed, she rationalized. There wasn’t Cornelius Fudge there to cause problems based upon the amount of galleons that were passed between vaults.
She grabbed her whip and her wand and quickly made it back outside. After a brisk jog she made her way just outside of the gates and away from the anti-apparition wards that prevented her leaving, and with a soft pop, she was gone.
What she saw upon her arrival made her heart ache. Nymphadora had been hit with a Cruciatus curse and it made her heart ache to the point that the scream that escaped her lips was completely uncontrollable. Without thoughts of safety or even making a cover for her presence, her only thought was to protect her.
Bellatrix immediately and without preamble jumped into the line of sight of the unforgivable and immediately started writhing on the ground in front of him in utter torment, taking the curse from Tonks. Harry turned to see who had cast the curse only to see the familiar sneer across Lucius’ face as he took time before releasing the curse from his supposed kinswoman.
Releasing the curse from her, slow as it was for him to do proved to be a failing that would soon be realized. Bellatrix jumped quickly from the ground, shaking the effects of the curse as if she was shaking the rain from her leather-clad body, before she quickly retrieved a whip from it’s harness in the flash of a millisecond before it’s length stretched out striking Lucius across the throat with a vicious thwack! Yanking on the handle quickly caused him to stumble until he was upon his knees only 3 meters away. She quickly kicked him between the uprights as hard as she could before repeating her efforts over and again causing all the males present to wince if phantom sympathy, even Gordon and Harry.
Using the moment of stunned silence she withdrew her sword and proceeded to make short work of the remaining standing death eaters before those still alive came to their senses and Disapparated away. Exhausted, she fell to her knees in resignation before the crimson clad familiar figure of one Gordon Potter.
“Bellatrix Lestrange.” Gordon said without a visible emotion in his voice whatsoever, which caused her to wince before him. There was something hidden in his voice which brought her back to the day that the Dark Lord had freed his supposed incapacitated faithful. She hung her head in shame, now, knowing that she truly deserved his loathing. Her hope in finding him here and now all but gone.
“Black.” She said in almost a whisper.
“How’s that?” Gordon asked, thinking that he hadn’t quite heard her, or what he had heard was a trick that his ears were playing upon him.
“It’s Black, Gordon. Rodolphus is no more.” She said looking up at him, her violet eyes brimmed with tears that the rain just couldn’t quite get it. He looked at her now for seemed to be a very long time. She turned and looked towards the others still present but hopefully out of earshot. “They were hurting my baby, Gordon, surely you couldn’t understand…”
“Yes, I understand, although, her creation is still a bitter pill for me, as I’m sure that you understand, yes?” He said looking at her critically now, before dropping down to a knee and placing his hand gently and hoping it conveyed some sympathy, however her hopes of it being out of earshot were quickly dashed as within the blink of an eye. She felt Harry’s wand pushing harshly against her throat and the familiar glint of righteous anger in his eyes. The tip of his wand started to glow with, again, a familiar sickening yellow, before he was toppled by Gordon, flat to the ground.
“What’s this about a baby, ickle Bella!?” Harry groaned rubbing his newly pained posterior.
“Mr. Potter, if I may be so bold…” Lionel Lovegood said, hoping to honestly breach the argument, and upon seeing the resigned look in his prospective daughter’s suitor, “We need to concentrate on restoring the Fidelus and perhaps then, we could take this inside?”
There was nothing more than a calm look of resign on her face now. The fact of the matter was this. Harry Potter had heard something, and while she couldn’t immediately swat it away as being something less than it was, it was still there. She had been heard and there was a certain anguish on her face that hadn’t been there before.
Yes, she hated. She was human and the first and most hated on her list was James Potter. It was probably an irrational hatred but that hatred had inevitably been inherited by her own first cousin, Sirius Black. There were a lot of issues between her and Sirius. The fact that they were close in age and had, at one time; before school at Hogwart’s School for Witches and Wizards, been close friends had been torn completely when they had been inevitably sorted into different houses. The worst part was that she didn’t just get hell for being sorted into a different house from him, but her mum as well.
Bellatrix Black had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and while she didn’t have as much ambition as her sisters, she still was quite the studious one. There, she met another anomaly, with Gordon Potter, whom had been the first Potter to be sorted into Ravenclaw in well over two hundred years. Looking at her house mate, now, she sighed deeply. Her eyes met his and for the briefest of moments she felt his firm detachment slide into that of hope and then worry. Did he still have feelings for her, after all this time and after so much bad blood between the Potter and the Black families?
A/N: I don’t do this often, but I wanted to take the opportunity to say that I took the inspiration for my character of Gordon Potter from that of celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay. He’s not going to be Gordon Ramsay, per say, however he will have a certain snarkiness in this story as to aid what I want to happen.