The Forgiven and Harry Potter

By Nezz

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Chapter 1 – The Damned Chosen One

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"Expelliarmus!"

A sharp, red flash blighted the witch's eyes and sent her crashing into the brick wall behind her. Intense currents of electricity shot up and down her fingers, ordering them to release the wand in her hands. But the woman bit down and forced herself to fight off the spell's effect. Too often had she witnessed the loss of a weapon quickly followed by the loss of one's life.

It took everything she could to keep the wand from flying from her hands. As a result, a large crack opened down the middle of the wand.

Better damaged than unarmed, I suppose—!

With that bitter thought, she turned from the main road and ducked into the dark alleyways.

*Pant* *Pant*

How did they know where to show up? What the bloody hell is going on?!

*Pant* Pant*

And of all the Aurors in the world, it had to be the damned Chosen One—!

The woman could barely see two feet in front of her in the lightless alleyways. She scraped the walls with her shoulder and elbows. Her streak of bad luck only continuing to grow.

No broom, no magical devices at her disposal, no allies, nothing. Just the cloak on her back and a broken wand.

Damn it! Where the hell are Liar and Norse?!

She turned a corner and slipped on a puddle from earlier day's rain. The witch managed to catch herself and keep running, but lost precious moments she could have used to widen the distance from her pursuers. Not that it mattered since the next corner she turned to was a—

"Dead end…"

Dim moon light shone on the wall in front of her. She ran her hand across its bricks, hoping the darkness hid an opening from her. No such luck.

The witch looked down at the cracked wand in her hand. It would manage one spell before it was completely useless, and a weak one at that.

Should I Apparate?

No, that's what they want. They'll track me right after and then where will I be?

""Lumos!""

A pair of voices resounded behind her, and the witch shielded her eyes from the two shining lights.

Aurors Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had caught up and illuminated her appearance. The woman was in her late twenties. Dubious scars marked her harshly cut face. Blue colors streaked her jet black hair tied into a ponytail. Her eyes possessed a harsh, silver glint to them. She was a touch shorter than average and, although, covered by a thick cloak, the witch moved with a body possessed of a lean, athletic build.

Harry and Ron treaded carefully around her. Going by their basic Auror tactics, they split up; each slowly closing in on their own side of the witch. They trained their wands on her, ready to cast their quickest spells at a moment's notice. As they drew closer, eyes fell on the witch's left wand hand, particularly, the forearm.

The sleeve had been torn in the earlier tussle and revealed the Dark Mark underneath; the sign of a Death Eater.

The two Aurors squinted at the skull and snake tattoo.

She felt their attention concentrate on it and grimaced.

"You're making a mistake. I know how this looks, but I am not your enemy, Potter," the woman told them.

The witch's voice had a sharp clarity to it, despite being low and deep.

"Well, good then. You've got nothing to worry from us. So just put down the wand and let us take you in. Believe me, you don't want to try dueling with a broken wand. Personal experience," Ron warned.

"Idiot. You saw me take down those Death Eaters. We're on the same side."

"I also saw you curse five of our colleagues."

"Collateral damage. They got caught in the spell. Nothing they won't walk away from."

"And then you used the Killing Curse on two of your mates."

The witch paused.

"…Okay. I admit that part looks pretty bad."

"Lower your wand and stand down," Ron told.

"They were going to blow your friends away. You two as well, if you care to remember."

Harry took a step forward. "Look, if you're really not our enemy, then lower your wand. Let us take you in and I promise we'll hear you out."

"Not going to happen, 'Chosen One'. You'll have to pry this wand out of my cold dead fingers." She smirked. "Well, if you can, that is."

Harry paused for a moment. "…How did you do that before, anyway? I've never seen someone take an Expelliarmus spell and keep their wand."

She gave a bitter smile.

"I've heard that's your go-to move. Hurt your pride a bit, did it? You don't last long if you don't learn to keep a death grip on your wand. But thanks to that…" She glanced down at the crack in the magical instrument. "…I've got maybe one spell left? Guess I'm taking at least one of you down with me."

Ron and Harry visibly stiffened and halted their advance. They both weighed the options and communicated nonverbally to each other. Little did they know, the mysterious witch was merely buying time with her bluff.

Suddenly, from above them all, another witch with glowing blonde hair jumped down from an adjacent building. As she hit the ground, she drove her wand into the earth like a dagger.

The concrete floor pulsed with yellow veins streaking across the pavement. In the next second, the ground split open and roared. Rocky fragments erupted like a freshly tapped geyser. The shockwave blowing Harry and Ron off their feet.

They scrambled to find their footing again, but before they could—

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

"STUPEFY!"

Harry's wand flew from his hands as he was knocked back by a red stream of lightning. Likewise, Ron was stunned unconscious by a similar scarlet bolt. Both of them landed twenty feet away.

Harry titled his head up to look on his attackers from his stomach.

Three dark figures now stood in the dimly lit alley. From what he could tell, the mysterious witch they were chasing cast the Disarming spell, while a third wizard appeared, and cast the Stun spell on Ron.

The witch stared down at her now completely broken wand. Seeing it was unsalvageable, she tossed the remnants aside with cold indifference. She moved next to her blonde comrade, who automatically handed her a replacement.

The golden haired witch retracted her wand from the cracked ground it was stabbed into. When she did so, Harry noticed something peculiar about it. Unlike most wands, hers was made of steel, likening it to a thin knife or rapier than a wand.

Harry glared at the party of three, who strode towards him. The male wizard stopped in front of Ron and tapped him a few times with his boot. He was a slim man, wearing the same simple cloak as his accomplices. His hair was cut short and had a rune tattoo burned below his right eye. He looked to his comrades and then Harry.

"I do believe we've just stepped in a rather tall pile of shit…" he said with a poetic voice. To which, his two allies glared at him.

The yellow haired witch, who possessed a large, muscly physique, began scribbling words into the air with her wand.

The wizard responded to the writing, "What do I mean, Norse? I mean, we just took out everyone's favorite golden boy and gingerkin. The whole wizarding world will be after our arses after this!... Not that a lot of them aren't already…"

The blonde woman named Norse seemed to be writing another response, when the witch they had been chasing interrupted them.

"Save it for later, you two. It's possible we can still contain this." She turned to the wizard. "Liar, how did the Aurors know where to show up in the first place?"

The one named Liar shrugged.

"Dunno. S'pose we should find out."

The man walked over and crouched in front of Harry. Before the he could protest, Liar locked eyes with him and at the same time, touched his wand to Harry's temple.

The disturbing feeling of Legilimency could be felt as Liar looked through his memories with skilled mental handling. Even though Harry had undergone Occlumency training with Snape, and additional training during the Auror's curriculum, he was still unable to block the man from his thoughts. Whoever Liar was, his mind reading magic was at an absurdly masterful level—a skill honed over years upon years of use.

"…Something called CCTV," Liar muttered after a time.

"What the hell is that?" the mysterious witch raised an eyebrow.

"It's those cameras all over the place. Records stuff and uses 'facial recognition software' or some other shite like that."

"Muggle technology. So invulnerable to spell manipulation and Memory Charms—wonderful."

"Yup. Let's see here…" Liar probed Harry's mind further. "Ah, yes. We can thank Ms. Granger for that. Seems she's worked something out with the Muggle government. As if she wasn't enough pain in the arse already. So, boss. What graceful undertaking shall we undertake next?"

The leader of the three thought for a moment.

"Not much we can do. Knock him out and we'll take our leave."

"Whoa! I'm not stunning HARRY POTTER!" Liar put up his hands.

"You're joking…."

"Norse could do it. She'd love to do it. Wouldn't you, Norse?"

The glowing blonde beside them nodded, as she punched her fist into her palm.

"You don't plan on using a spell?" their leader murmured.

Norse began writing something into the air.

"I don't care if it's always been your dream to punch the Chosen One. And you want to punch everybody, so I can't take you seriously at all!"

Their leader sighed and ran her hand over her face before cupping her mouth. After a moment, she pointed her wand at Harry.

"I'll at least spare you the pain of being stunned," she said in a cold voice.

Liar leaned on her shoulder, joining in looking down at him.

"Nighty night~ "

Norse also waved at Harry mutely.

"Imperio."

Harry heard their leader cast the Unforgivable Curse and felt his consciousness fade. He caught a glimpse of the Dark Mark tattoos they all bore, before a chilling sensation washed over him.

And then he was out, commanded to fall asleep.

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(The next day, at the Ministry of Magic)

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A young frizzle haired woman walked fast pass the cubicles lining the building floor. Clutched to her chest was a large book almost larger than her whole upper body. Despite the enormity of the tome, the woman moved as if accustom to such a thing.

When she reached her destination, the witch turned sharply and knocked on the door of a certain office.

"…Come in," a low voice called.

She opened the door, entered, and stalked, almost outright angrily, to the man sitting at his desk. The witch dropped the tome she had been carrying on the table with a heavy thump. Piles of papers and binders did a short hop.

"I've been doing some research, Minister…"

"Of course, you have, Ms. Granger."

"…and I have found something rather alarming in my findings."

"This concerns the three fugitives Potter and Weasley ran into last night."

Hermione stared at Kingsley Shacklebot for a moment.

"Yes."

"…Go on."

"As you know, there has been a long list of unexplained incidences surrounding the three in question."

"There have? We've only recently become aware of their existence last night."

…

"…Do you want to stand by that statement, Minister?" Hermione's tone contained a subtle hint of warning and an underlying wrath in her words. After a pointed stare, she went on with her explanation. "Since 1717, the Ministry is notified of every instance witches or wizards perform the Unforgivable Curses. Including during the Wizarding Wars, when the use was legalized temporarily, the record of uses still exists. With the exception of the Imperius Curse, which casts are recorded, but effects are difficult to trace."

"I know my Unforgivable Curses history, Ms. Granger."

"And yet, there are eye witness sightings of the curses being performed without setting off any of the Ministry's monitoring charms."

"I've read the report. Potter and Weasley witnessed the Killing Curse and were victims of the Imperius Curse themselves."

"And no new entries have appeared in Ministry records."

"Something worth investigating," Kingsley commented.

"Apparently, this has happened before. Accounts of perpetrators matching similar descriptions to those Harry and Ron described. And when I checked against official records for their corresponding usage, I found nothing."

"You believe these three have been using Unforgivable Curses for a while now."

"Years," she emphasized. "Possibly decades. Before Voldemort's resurrection, before I started Hogwarts. All this time…They have been out there… Using Unforgivable Curses without detection—without repercussion."

The Minister took in what Hermione said and nodded gravely. "I understand. We already have all our resources pooled towards catching these criminals. When we bring them to custody, we shall uncover their methods of subterfuge and prevent it from ever happening again. I will make sure of—"

"I don't want to believe you condoned it."

…

That simple sentence brought the world around them to a grinding halt.

Kingsley slowly began to speak. "…I'm sorry?"

"I don't want to believe you supported this…!" Hermione's voice quivered as tears welled in her eyes. "We fought together. You were there with us when we fought Voldemort. In the Order, at Hogwarts, helping Harry. We—!"

She stopped a moment to compose herself.

"I'm not naïve. Lives were lost. It was war," Hermione spoke in a hushed voice.

"…"

"But now? There is no excuse for handing out death sentences. Not during times of peace or between wars either."

"Ms. Grange—"

Hermione opened the tome she had slammed onto the desk and turned to a page she bookmarked. The old parchment was mostly blank save for a few words.

"After meeting loads of dead ends in my research, I decided to try a new angle," she continued. "Could there exist individuals who are actually permitted use of the Unforgivable Curses, regardless of the circumstance or times?"

Hermione looked down at a list in the tome.

"Why, among the six names here, are yours, Albus Dumbledore's, and Alastor Moody's…?!"

"…"

Hermione laid a tired finger on two foreboding words written on the old parchment.

"Who are 'The Forgiven'?"