Under the Cursed Moon - CH - 57

The news of Harry Potter’s return spread like wildfire across Britain’s wizarding world. It began as a whisper—uncertain rumors shared over firewhiskey in dimly lit pubs—but soon, it became an undeniable fact. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Vanquisher of Voldemort, had returned.

In the Ministry of Magic, the revelation brought both hope and fear. For the common folk and frightened families, it was a beacon of light, a sign that perhaps the Dark Lord’s reign of terror could be stopped.

But for the officials and politicians, particularly those who had turned against Harry after his werewolf transformation, it felt like a looming storm.

“Potter’s back?” asked Rufus Crawford, a senior official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, slamming a fist down on the table. “And whose side is he on this time? He’s no friend of the Ministry. Not after the way we treated him.”

“We treated him like a beast,” muttered another official, looking nervously around the room. “And don’t forget, half the werewolves in Britain have already joined the Dark Lord’s forces.”

“And Potter’s a werewolf,” added another voice, sealing their doubts.

The Minister for Magic, Eliza Hopkirk, raised her hand for silence. “Enough speculation! We can’t afford to alienate him further. He’s still Harry Potter, the man who defeated Voldemort. If we can convince him to stand with us, we might actually stand a chance.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Greengrass asked, his voice filled with dread. “What if he sides with them?”

The room fell into uneasy silence.

Meanwhile, the werewolf community buzzed with a different kind of excitement. Many had already defected to the Dark Lord’s side, drawn by promises of equality and revenge against years of discrimination.

The Dark Lord had promised them power—positions of leadership and respect that they had never experienced under Ministry rule. The idea of Harry Potter, a werewolf himself, returning to Britain, ignited their hopes.

“He’ll join us,” said Fenrir Greyback’s old lieutenant, a scarred and bitter werewolf named Callum. “He’s one of us. The Ministry turned its back on him. He has no reason to fight for them.”

“But what if he fights against us?” someone asked cautiously.

“He won’t,” Callum growled. “Harry Potter knows what it means to be treated like dirt by those Ministry scum. He’ll lead us to victory.”

But not everyone was convinced. Quiet murmurs of doubt spread through the werewolf ranks. They had seen what Harry Potter was capable of, and not all of them trusted his motives.

Harry read the headlines and overheard the whispers, but he didn’t let it affect him.

“They’re already deciding what side I’m on without even asking me,” he said bitterly, tossing a copy of The Daily Prophet onto the table. The headline screamed: HARRY POTTER RETURNS—HERO OR TRAITOR?

Hermione picked it up and scanned the article. “They’re desperate, Harry. Both sides. The Ministry wants you as a symbol, and the werewolves see you as their savior.”

“I’m no one’s savior,” Harry muttered, pacing the room. “I didn’t come back to lead another war.”

Leah, sitting cross-legged by the fire, snorted. “You’re Harry Potter. War follows you whether you want it or not.”

Harry glared at her, but Leah didn’t flinch. “You can’t ignore this, Harry. If you don’t pick a side soon, someone else will pick it for you.”

Later that evening, Neville, Luna, and the Weasley twins joined the Potters at their safehouse. The room buzzed with tension as they discussed the implications of the leak.

“This changes everything,” Neville said grimly. “The Ministry will send someone to recruit you. They’ll try to use you to rally the public.”

“Let them try,” Harry replied. “I’ll make it clear I’m not their pawn.”

“What about the werewolves?” George asked. “They’re expecting you to side with them.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Harry said after a long pause. “But not as their leader. If they’re expecting me to rally behind this Dark Lady, they’re going to be disappointed.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Harry, be careful. The werewolves won’t take rejection lightly. If they see you as a threat instead of an ally, they’ll come after you.”

“Let them,” Leah growled from the corner. “I’d like to see them try.”

By nightfall, Harry sent out owls to both factions. To the Ministry, he issued a clear message:

"I am not your weapon, and I am not your enemy. My only concern is protecting the innocent. If you can’t understand that, then stay out of my way."

To the werewolves, he sent a more cautious message, offering a meeting to discuss their intentions and warning them against dragging innocents into their fight.

Dennis Creevey, who had just returned from another mission inside the Dark Lady’s camp, looked uneasy.

“You’re walking a thin line, Harry,” he warned. “Neither side is going to like that you’re staying neutral.”

“I don’t care,” Harry said firmly. “I’m not here to take sides. I’m here to stop this madness before it gets worse.”

The stage was set. With both factions watching him closely, Harry knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to force his hand.

But for now, he focused on gathering intelligence, strengthening his allies, and preparing for the inevitable confrontation.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, Hermione looked over at Harry.

“You’re doing the right thing, Harry.”

He didn’t reply, but the weight of her words hung in the air.

The storm was coming, and Harry Potter was ready.

Hermione sat at the wooden table, her quill scratching furiously as she wrote letters. Leah leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, watching Harry with an unreadable expression. Andromeda stirred tea in the corner, trying to keep her mind busy.

"They're coming, Harry," Hermione said without looking up. "Both sides. It's only a matter of time."

"Let them come," Leah said, her voice sharp. "We’re ready."

Harry stopped pacing. "We’re not ready, Leah. We’re nowhere near ready."

A sharp knock on the door broke the silence. Hermione flicked her wand, and the door opened to reveal Neville Longbottom, his robes dusty from travel.

"You’re back earlier than expected," Hermione said, rising to greet him.

"I had to," Neville replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Things are getting worse. The Ministry’s losing ground. The Dark Lady’s supporters are recruiting faster than we thought."

"How bad?" Harry asked, his voice low.

Neville sighed. "Bad enough that entire towns are going into hiding. The attacks aren’t random anymore. They’re coordinated—strategic."

Hermione paled. "And the Ministry?"

"Desperate," Neville said grimly. "They’re rounding up suspected traitors without evidence. It’s turning into another witch hunt. People are scared, Harry. They’re looking to you for answers."

Before Harry could respond, an owl tapped at the window. Hermione hurried to let it in, and the bird dropped a sealed parchment on the table before flying away.

Harry recognized the seal immediately—Minerva McGonagall.

"It’s from Hogwarts," he said, breaking the wax seal and unfolding the letter.

Hermione and Neville leaned in as Harry read aloud:

"Harry, I hope this letter finds you in good health. The castle is safe for now, but the shadows grow closer every day. The children are frightened, and some parents have already withdrawn them. I fear Hogwarts may no longer be the sanctuary it once was. If you can, come. Your presence may give them hope."

The room fell silent.

"Hogwarts," Leah said softly. "The last bastion."

"And it’s under threat," Hermione added.

"We need to act," Harry said, folding the letter. "But not recklessly. If we show ourselves too soon, we’ll lose the advantage."

Hermione nodded. "We need more intel first. We still don’t know enough about the Dark Lady. We need to find her base of operations."

"Dennis is working on it," Neville said. "He’s close to earning their trust. But he’s also in danger. If they find out he’s spying for us—"

"They won’t," Harry cut in. "Dennis knows what he’s doing. But we need to be ready to extract him if things go wrong."

Leah pushed off the wall. "What about the werewolves? They’re still divided. If we don’t bring them to our side soon, they’ll tip the scales."

Harry looked at her. "You and I will deal with the werewolves. They know you. They’ll listen to you."

As night fell, Harry and Leah left the cottage, cloaked under Disillusionment Charms. They apparated to the outskirts of a hidden werewolf encampment deep in the forest.

The air smelled of damp earth and fur. Shapes moved between the trees, low growls echoing through the woods. Leah stepped forward first, her presence calming the tension as the wolves recognized her scent.

"We’re here to talk," she announced, her voice steady.

A tall, scarred werewolf emerged from the shadows. "The infamous Harry Potter." he growled.

"We need to discuss the future," Harry said, stepping into the moonlight. "Before it’s too late."

The werewolf leader eyed them warily. "You’ve got five minutes."

Inside a makeshift tent, Harry laid out his plan.

"You don’t trust the Ministry. Neither do I. But the Dark Lord isn’t your ally. He’s using you, and when she’s done, she’ll cast you aside."

The werewolf leader sneered. "And what makes you think we’ll trust you?"

"Because I’m not asking you to trust me," Harry said. "I’m asking you to think about your pack. About your future. If you fight for her, you’ll never be free. You’ll always be tools for someone else’s war."

Leah stepped in. "I know what it’s like to be used. To be treated as less than human. But Harry—he’s different. He stood by me when no one else did. And he’ll stand by you, too."

The leader’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak right away.

By the time Harry and Leah returned to the cottage, the others were waiting anxiously.

"Well?" Hermione asked.

Harry set his wand on the table. "We’ve got their attention. It’s a start."

Neville grinned. "That’s more than the Ministry has managed in months."

"But it’s not enough," Harry said. "Not yet. We need more time."

Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Then we’ll take it one step at a time. Together."

As the fire crackled in the hearth, Harry felt the weight of the world pressing down on him. But for the first time in weeks, he also felt something else—hope.

Dennis Creevey entered the dimly lit cottage, his face pale but determined. He had spent weeks infiltrating the network of the so-called Dark Lord, and now he finally had something substantial. Harry and Hermione sat at the wooden table, maps and parchment spread across it. Leah leaned against the fireplace, sharpening a blade—an old habit she hadn’t yet abandoned. Teddy was upstairs, fast asleep under Andromeda’s watchful eye.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Hermione said, pulling out a chair for Dennis.

Dennis dropped a thick stack of notes onto the table and slumped into the seat. "Not a ghost," he said, "but something just as disturbing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What did you find?"

Dennis took a deep breath. "The so-called Dark Lord isn’t who we thought he was. His name’s Rudolf Vogel. He’s German, born to a prestigious magical family, but he was nearly a squib. Barely passed his OWLs. Mocked by classmates, overlooked by professors. Spent most of his early life trying to prove himself. He was obsessed with magical power, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t cast spells above third-year level."

"Then how did he end up here, leading an army?" Leah asked, pausing her sharpening.

"That’s the disturbing part," Dennis replied. "Three years ago, he disappeared completely. Before that, he attended almost every international Quidditch match. Lived a flashy lifestyle, but no real skills to back it up. He was basically a con artist—good with words, charming, especially with women. But no one took him seriously. Then, out of nowhere, he reappeared—different. He’s suddenly powerful. Too powerful."

Harry leaned back, crossing his arms. "The Dark Lady."

Dennis nodded grimly. "Exactly. She gave him power, Harry. I don’t know how, but it’s not natural."

Hermione shuffled through the notes. "So we have a puppet, not a leader."

"More like a figurehead," Dennis corrected. "He commands attention, rallies troops, but he’s not making the decisions. The Dark Lady is the one pulling the strings. Rudolf is just her mouthpiece."

"And her cover," Leah added. "She’s using him to keep everyone focused on the wrong target while she moves in the shadows."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Do we have anything on her? Anything at all?"

Dennis shook his head. "No name. No face. She’s like a ghost. But there’s one thing—Rudolf trusts her completely. He’d die for her without hesitation."

Hermione frowned. "And if she can give him power, what else is she capable of?"

Harry tapped his wand against the parchment, summoning glowing threads of magical connections between the names Dennis had uncovered. "What about the three years he was missing?"

"That’s the gap we need to focus on," Dennis replied. "He went from nobody to nightmare in three years. I think he was trained—maybe experimented on. And the Dark Lady is behind it."

Hermione flipped through the notes. "He resurfaced in Albania. Same place Voldemort hid after his first defeat."

Harry’s eyes narrowed. "Then we have to assume she’s ancient—or connected to something ancient. Voldemort might have stumbled upon traces of her and dismissed them."

Leah looked up. "Or he was afraid of her."

"There’s more," Dennis said, pulling out another sheet of parchment. "I found something odd about Rudolf’s interests before his disappearance."

Harry leaned closer. "Go on."

"He’s obsessed with immortality."

Hermione stiffened. "Horcruxes?"

Dennis shook his head. "No evidence of that, but he’s fascinated with ancient rituals—dark ones. And there’s another thing."

Harry’s eyes sharpened. "What?"

"He collected artifacts," Dennis said. "Rare magical items. Most of them vanished when he did. I think the Dark Lady used those artifacts to transform him."

"So we’re dealing with someone who manipulates through proxies," Leah said. "How do we fight that?"

Harry stood and began pacing. "We don’t. Not yet. First, we pull Rudolf out of the equation."

Hermione’s eyes widened. "You’re going after him?"

Harry nodded. "If we cut off the puppet, we force the master into the open. And we need her in the open."

Dennis hesitated. "Harry, Reinhardt’s protected. He’s never alone."

"Then we make him alone," Harry said firmly. "We lure him out."

Hermione stepped in. "We need a plan. This can’t be rushed."