The Conception of Magic

Chapter Eleven

Plans and plots, twisting lines and unspoken orders. Voldemort observed the ledgers his Inner Circle had kept before his downfall, taking in the accounts, reading over mission notes and the mounting evidence of his failure. Many of the leather-bound tomes were frayed, the ink dulled despite the spells woven into the pages and bindings. Stalking across the room, heavy book in hand, Voldemort frowned.

Where had his plans derailed? When had he lost sight of the larger picture?

Voldemort set the ledger aside, hands folding behind his back as he paced the length of his study. Nagini, resting by the fire, tracked his movements with unblinking eyes. Beautiful Nagini. He stopped by where she rested, diamond-shaped head cocking back to gaze up at him. She nudged his hip as she rose, body winding around him as she hissed, 'Are you well, Marvolo?'

He stroked her head, voice soft as he replied, 'I am, Nagini. Troubled, but well.'

She nudged his jaw. 'What troubles you?'

Fingers gliding over cool scales, Voldemort turned from the fire and made his way out of the study. He smiled as she adjusted herself around his shoulders, quiet and waiting. As he made his way down the stairs, he said, 'I was cautious in my choices for the war, Nagini. Everything was plotted out. Then, at the end, things changed. I am uncertain about what, exactly, had gone wrong.'

When it came down to the finest details, Voldemort couldn't recall what had happened. Everything had been going according to plan. His enemies were crumbling before his forces, the line between the magical world and the muggle one separating. The divide was there, his numbers were rising…

…and then he lost it.

Madness, paranoia. The recounts of his followers were subtle in their references of him, in the last few years before his downfall. Some did not speak of him in general, as if afraid he would punish them for their insight into his operations. They had stopped confiding in him, stopped offering ideas and alternatives to the more difficult battles that had cost them hundreds of allies.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he slowed. A tall man was waiting, leaning back against the banister and eyes closed. Darker hair, long fingers. Head cocked to the side, Voldemort offered a sharp smile as he said, "I wasn't expecting you so soon. Tell me, have you found it?"

.

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

Harry stared at the young man across from, knew Barty had been keeping an eye on him, but he hadn't expected the man to appear so soon. He hadn't expected him to just suddenly pop into existence in his house. In his bedroom, for Merlin's sake!

Gaping at the man, completely unafraid, Harry pressed, "Like, seriously? Where did you come from?"

"My mother, last I checked," Barty deadpanned, looking utterly unimpressed. When he advanced, Harry jerked backward. Shifted, moving to the side, away from the wall. The sharp, responding grin on Barty Jr.'s face told Harry that was the correct move, a sentiment confirmed twofold as the man said, "How is it that you do the impossible on a regular basis? Overcoming insurmountable odds as if they're nothing. The things you do make me question everything. Like how you're pregnant."

Harry stared up at the wizard, eyes wide as Barty's hand landed on his still-flat stomach. A stomach that wouldn't be flat. Not for long. Oh, god, was he going to get fat? Like girls do when they're pregnant? Was he going to start craving new, different foods? How was the baby going to come out? Was he going to give birth to the Dark Lord's baby while he was at school?

No, not at school. Harry set his hand over Barty's, dark brows furrowing as he said, "You know how."

"I do," Barty confirmed, head cocked to the side.

Harry met the man's gaze, voice low as he asked, "How are you in my room, Barty? The Blood Wards –"

"Are utterly useless." Barty circled him, fingertips trailing over his stomach and back as he said, "I think the Old Man was using them as a diversion. If Dolohov was sent here instead of on a mission by the Dark Lord's order, he would have noticed there weren't any wards. That they've been dismantled."

"Dolohov?" Hermione's voice was strained, and Harry looked over to see her in the doorway with Luna and Petunia behind her. Harry watched as Barty's gaze shifted to Hermione, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he grinned, a sharp quirk of his lips, before he said, "Antonin Dolohov. He's been recognized as the Dark Lord's leading general whose power is unmatched by all except the Dark Lord himself and Snape."

"He's powerful, then," Harry ran a hand through his hair. "If Voldemort sent him, he would have known…"

"Yes," Barty turned, brows furrowing. "He is…incredibly powerful. Sadistic, too. Intelligent and careful."

That was alarming. He knew there were a number of Voldemort's followers that broken free of Azkaban, but Harry didn't know their names or their histories.

Hand falling on his middle, Harry murmured, "And what would he have done?"

"He would have killed everyone here and dragged you to his master," Barty's voice was devoid of emotion, mind obviously a hundred miles away. Then the older wizard said, "Frankly, it would be in your best interest to not go to school. You would be better off leaving England entirely."

Though Hermione said nothing, Harry noted how she frowned. Her gaze darkening, curly hair brushed away from her face. Thinking, mind whirling. Glancing back towards Barty, Harry demanded, "And where could I go that he wouldn't be able to follow me? Even if I did leave England, what would stop Voldemort from hurting my friends? What would stop him from hunting me down?"

He sure as hell wasn't going to tell the Dark Lord he was having his magically created baby thanks to some insane storm. A storm that had changed Dudley, a storm that had turned raw and unfiltered magic into a lifeform in his gut. Harry buried his hands into his hair, plopping down onto his bed, not caring how it put his face near a place he didn't want to think about on Barty's body, as he said, "I'm so fucked, Barty. Not literally. Just…Merlin, this is fucked up!"

He felt the bed sink around him, knew Hermione and Luna were sitting by his side. Felt them curl against him, their heads resting on his shoulders even as Barty knelt at his feet. Thank Merlin. The ex-Death Eater caught and held his gaze, voice low as Barty said, "You have to start considering what's coming, Harry. You're bonded to the Dark Lord through a child, one that's growing inside of you. And when he finds out…"

"If he finds out," Harry swallowed around the words, something painful clutching at his chest.

Barty gave him a blank look as he continued, "When he finds out, he will hunt you down. The more distance you put between yourself and him, the safer you and your child will be."

"And my friends?"

"They can either stay and try and direct attention away from you, garnering the Dark Lord's attention in the process," Barty grasped his chin, holding his attention, gaze hard and unyielding, as he said, "Or they can run with you. If you stay, everyone will be in danger. The Dark Lord, he's ruthless."

Harry's hands folded over his stomach, pressing lightly against the flat expanse that shielded the unborn life from the rest of the world. His brows furrowed. Run away from England, from Hogwarts? The thought was alien. Unspeakable. Hogwarts was his home. The children running the halls, the staff, the kids in his own year and those above, they were all part of his makeshift family.

His responsibility. Shaking his head, Harry said, "I can't run away. Not now."

When he looked up, Dudley was in the doorway. His aunt and uncle stood behind him, their gaze on the man kneeling in front of him and his friends, but none of them said anything. Dudley walked in when Harry held out a hand to his cousin, smiling as the golden-haired teen slipped his hand into Harry's palm. Closing his grip around Dudley's hand, Harry said, "I'll go to Hogwarts. I'll make a plan. I'll figure it out."

Barty flopped onto his backside, elbows resting on his knees as he said, "When you start showing?"

Harry swallowed, mouth dry. An interesting line of thought, that one. Merlin, he was pregnant. Harry pressed his hand against his stomach, voice slow and even as he whispered, "A glamour?"

Even Luna looked unimpressed. Harry wanted to shrink away, shoulders closing in on his ears as Hermione said, "As much as I hate to say it, Barty's right. You shouldn't go to Hogwarts, Harry. It's too dangerous."

"Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," Harry recalled Hagrid saying as much.

Barty snorted. "Safe as long as the people running it are sane."

A hushed silence fell over the room, a silence Petunia took advantage of when she asked, "How would the headmaster take this sort of change?"

Barty seemed to consider the question before saying, "Albus is an ambitious man. He'll use whatever he can to his advantage if it means winning the war. He sent an innocent man to prison, for Merlin's sake. I wouldn't put it past him to use an unborn child to try and force the Dark Lord to kneel. With disastrous results, might I add."

Harry already knew he couldn't trust Dumbledore. Sirius had been in prison for so long despite the Headmaster knowing he was innocent. He had let insane teachers teach Defense, hadn't fought to keep Harry from the Triwizard Tournament. Running a hand through his hair, mind whirling, Harry barely caught Hermione's next question when she asked, "What about St. Mungos? I know the Ministry isn't an option given how they're denying Voldemort's return, but surely Mungos would know what to do?"

Why was Barty in his room? Harry was sure he had seen someone outside…

"What, was that you outside the house?" Harry trapped Barty under his gaze, eyes narrowed as the man blinked. Then Barty snorted, one hand covering his lower face. Harry's eyes narrowed further, his voice a tad sharper as he said, "There are dementors outside, and they walked right past you like you weren't there! And how did you get into my room!"

"I apparated, you magic-addled child," Barty finally retorted, lips quirked up in a grin. "It isn't hard to do."

Harry would stand, if he was able. But that would put his crotch in the man's face, and he wasn't okay with that. Instead, he cleared his throat and made a vague gesture to the room as he said, "Perhaps we should take this conversation to somewhere not my room?"

"Nudity still a trigger, Harry?" There was definitely a grin on the man's face now.

Harry scowled. "We're getting up."

Barty slid back and rose to his feet, expression almost jovial. Bastard. Harry left the room, left the notes, and his silent party followed him. Well, almost silent. Luna was murmuring a few questions to their ex-Defense Professor, questions he couldn't be concerned to worry about. Sirius had mentioned, in his last letter, that someone would be appearing at the house to take him, Hermione, and Luna to school.

He couldn't leave Dudley behind. Harry wasn't sure what to do with Barty, but he knew Cedric and Victor would be at Hogwarts. He would have his friends watching out for him. But he would start to show. As he made his way down the stairs into the front room, his steps slowed as a wave of disbelief washed through him. He heard Barty curse, a line of foul language that had the raven-haired teen blushing.

Behind him, he heard Hermione scold Barty with a hissed, "Language, Barty. There are civilized people in the house!"

In the middle of the front room, staring at them in varying degrees of shock and confusion, one Sirius Black looked at one Remus Lupin before looking back at the gaggle of people coming down the stairs. It was silent for a moment as Harry's brow twitched, rare fury cutting through him.

When he snarled, "Why don't you people know how to use the goddamn door?"

Sirius exploded, "What the fuck is going on here?"

They both fell silent as Remus stared, eyes wide and face paling rapidly. Harry didn't miss how the man's gaze dropped to his midsection, horror shining in the amber gaze of the gentle soul housing the spirit of a wolf. Behind him, Barty signed before saying, "Time's up, Harry. Cat's out of the bag, now."

"Harry?" Remus's voice was wavering, the man taking half a step forward. Reaching, slowly.

Slapping a hand over his face, Harry muttered, "Fucking werewolf senses. Not my day. So not my day."

Author's Note

And I'm back! With another odd chapter. Harry's so done. With everything. It's nice to get back to this story, though complications have just shown up at the worst possible time. As for why Barty's back so soon, worry not. And one can't get out from under the delicate senses of a werewolf, as a canine's sense of smell is far superior to that of a human. Question is, what comes next?

So, Without Further Ado: Favorite, Follow, & Review!