Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.
Summary: What the name says. Imagine Voldemort did what many including Harry considered, made his horcruxes any object or hidden so successfully that none would be able to find all of them without allowing Voldemort time to wreck havoc. I haven't read a fan fic with this idea, but with hundreds of thousands of HP fan fics, I'm sure there probably are more a few that deal with Harry dealing with Voldemort in a more direct manner than finding Horcruxes.
I'm going to go slight AU on the horcruxes. I try to answer it using the world of canon, so if all answers are perfect the great. Any niggling doubts used in the logic that makes you not 100% convinced, just chalk it up to an AU modification on how horcruxes works and move on I guess.
This story will be AU from around the time of Half-Blood-Prince. I will freely use canon situations from DH if it doesn't conflict with my story and I feel it necessary.
A reviewer once said he wished I'd given warning to another of my story's style, so I'll describe this story. It's basically war against Voldemort. Pure action and adventure basically,with some drama added in. This will be a story told from many perspectives, with characters split up and each character's view being a piece of the overall story. There may not be a central character (Harry may have the most scenes of any but not a majority).
Just a quick warning, I intend to write a war so it's not going to be clean. Do not assume any character will make out of this unscathed, if survive at all. There will be deaths, and I have no intention of having any warnings beforehand. If that isn't the sort of story you'd like to read, I've spared you the time and you may want to skip it.
Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature.
Chapter 1
Dumbledore's Gleam of Triumph Explained at Last
The night was not too dark, considering the nearly full moon and the countless stars scattered upon the canvas of the sky. The night, however, was deathly silent. The air was thick with anticipation, the environment still with suspense, and the surroundings under the calm before chaos. Were you to look up to the sky you may have been able to spot a slight, small, outline in the air moving towards a castle. A few owls perched on top of a tower flew off when this objected flew very close to them. With a whoosh, a broomstick flew onto the tower, and levitated a meter above the tower ground for a moment as a man hopped off. This man was rather old, with a long silver beard that descended towards his waist. He walked swiftly towards the door leading back into the castle.
Albus Dumbledore was rather frustrated, and if any of you ever knew this man, you'd know this was a very rare occurrence. He was almost never flustered, always preferring to deal with situations as serenely as he could handle. He was no deity, sure he had his moments of annoyance, but he rarely got frustrated. He always dealt with situations as they came, and figured if there was a way out of problems, a clear head would always be of better use than a frustrated mind. And if there were no ways out of a problem, being all flustered wouldn't matter a jot; no use crying over spilt ink, as they say.
So hopefully now you understand the gravity of the situation when it said that Albus Dumbledore was a good deal frustrated. He muttered to himself in quick tones, not paying any mind to the snogging students in a dark corner (the Ravenclaw's tongue being so far deep in the Slytherin's mouth, Dumbledore would've made rather funny comment to them had he been in a mood where he cared). Instead he breezed down the corridors, not noticing the slightest thing surrounding him, his thoughts consuming of his attentions he had reached the gargoyle standing outside his office in what felt to him in the blink of any eye. He mumbled the password absentmindedly and walked up the steps.
Dumbledore sat in his office, and sighed. The portraits of the prior headmasters and mistresses remained silent, knowing full well this was not a time to say a word. He opened a cabinet door and took out a flask with a dark brown liquid in it. He pulled out a glass and poured into it. He sat in his seat and facing the table, but looking at nothing in particular, he sipped his drink. He remained as such, left to his thoughts, as he both thought and drunk deeply.
How wretched a situation this was! He knew the odds were small to imagine finding them all, but not even one? Everything, everything, would have to change. The entire strategy, the usage of resources... everything must change. He didn't think the public were ready for it. How could they? Dumbledore dearly wished his first plan could work, where the actions to weaken the enemy first be done under the cloak of stealth, and then... when the enemy unaware of his loss, then they'd strike him and remove him from the Earth permanently. The alternative was to bring it to the open, and the risks were immense if not near impossible.
Dumbledore drank another portion deeply. He didn't notice his hand slightly shook as the glass was raised to his lips. No twinkle could be spotted in his eyes, the skin on his face looked as worn as it ever did, lined with concern and worry. How wretched a situation this was.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke.
"Tell him he is needed," he said.
One painting occupant went to the edge and then disappeared. None of the paintings asked. They all knew who 'he' was.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Go on Seamus!" shouted Dean, with a whoop. "Give it a go!"
Seamus was standing on a tale in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, which was filled with students who were all looking at him. He held in his hand a small vial, which had a light blue liquid inside.
"Should I?" asked Seamus, playing to the crowd. The crowd did not disappoint, with a loud "Yes!" roared back.
"Oh, for the love of God," said Hermione, who sounded annoyed save for the smile she couldn't resist. "This is insane."
"Indeed, the enviably lovely Miss Granger has pointed out," said Seamus. "But when insanity is needed, I must answer the call!"
"Will you get over yourself and do it already?!" said Ron loudly. "All this discussion is only delaying things."
"Who the bloody hell managed to get the sample?" said Ginny.
"I did!" squealed Colin Creevey, excitedly.
"There's Gryffindor brave," said Hermione, disapproving a bit, "and then there's Gryffindor reckless."
"That's why we're in this house," said Ron, nodding approvingly towards Colin. "Because none of us know the difference."
"Yeah!" shouted Dean again. "Drink, drink, drink..."
The crowd joined in now. "Drink... drink... drink..."
Seamus, chest sticking out, looked at them for one last moment, and then drank it deeply. He smacked his mouth a couple of times, clearly disliking the taste. His face then contorted and started to twist in unnatural manners. The crowd around him gasped and stared, and a few stepped back having never seen such a transformation occur before.
After a few moments, standing before them was the Transfiguration professor. Everyone stared, their respect for the real one so great they didn't know what to do. Until Dean walked behind Seamus, and gave a large slap to the back of the head. Seamus let out a cry of surprised pain and looked round at his best friend in confusion.
"Even though this doesn't really count," said Dean. "I feel like the bravest bastard to walk these halls."
The crowd roared with laughter, and everyone then went closer to observe the change much closer.
Laying on a couch far on one side of the room, watching all of this silently, lay a boy of roughly sixteen. He had a book propped open and leaning on raised leg with flexed knees, but he was watching the events there. He was a rather good looking lad, but he looked emotionless at that moment. His hair was jet black, and he wore glasses, with a small scar lay on his forehead. As ever, he avoided the crowd and tried to avoid the action, until of course he was dragged into it.
Having sat further away from the others, he was the only one to notice the painting swing open and someone enter the room. He really did want to warn the others, but there was nothing to say as the person who entered had seen what was going on immediately upon stepping foot in the common room.
"I suppose you all found this very funny," said the person dryly.
Everyone else turned quickly to the voice, which cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. A student squeaked remarkably loudly, but nobody ever found out who it was.
"While I will give credit to the performance of rather difficult magic," said McGonagall, "I have warned you time and time again the dangers of attempting such magic without the necessary direction."
The students were quiet, knowing McGonagall will be on a roll soon enough. But before she did, she looked around to find someone.
"Oh, Harry?" she said. "The Headmaster wishes to see you."
Harry hopped off his couch and made his way to the exit swiftly. He overheard his Transfiguration teacher's comments behind him as he left through the opened painting, and she was not amused.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The walk towards Dumbledore's office went without a distraction, so he was left deep in his thoughts. Dumbledore and he already had a number of conversations regarding the distances Voldemort went to achieve immortality. The nature of horcruxes horrified him to his deepest core; he couldn't fathom any thinking that would lead a person in that direction. Dumbledore was scouring around the lands, looking for hints about where the horcruxes would be. When found, each would be destroyed one by one... and when all fell, then so would the Dark Lord.
Harry made his way up the staircase and entered the headmaster's circular room. He saw his headmaster seated behind the desk, looking rather weary, with a glass in his hand. Dumbledore looked up to see his favourite student walking towards him, and raised his glass.
"Drink?" he offered, kindly.
"No thanks, sir," said Harry.
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Sit, sit."
Harry obeyed, and waited patiently as Dumbledore was silent. He didn't wish to push his headmaster, respecting him far too much to make a comment. After awhile, Dumbledore let out a large sigh, something Harry wasn't too familiar with which made him sit up in anticipation of something bad.
"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore finally. "It seems our strategy has come to a failure."
"Which one, sir?" said Harry, who had a slight feeling what it was.
"Our main one, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Our only one."
"The horcruxes...?"
"Yes, Harry, to be succinct," said Dumbledore. "I cannot account for any of them."
"None of them?" said Harry, a trail of fear slowly spreading within him.
"Not one," said Dumbledore. "I was so sure that Voldemort would place his horcruxes in such an esteem that the locations would be able to be found using his personal history."
"And that sounded just like what he would do," said Harry.
"It seems he either had the foresight to see this, and hide them far more randomly," said Dumbledore. "Or he did what you feared and just charmed any old tin can. Either way, it makes no difference. None have the resources to scan every object imaginable to see if they're horcruxes. It's absolutely impossible. He could be hiding one in this very castle and there's no way one could just stumble upon it."
"So he's won?" said Harry, dreading to hear the answer.
"No, there's never a sure victory, Harry. Always remember that," said Dumbledore. "It goes against the nature for anyone to be undefeatable, though men have tried for millenia. There is always a way, so long as someone is willing to try it."
"But you said we can't find the horcruxes...?" said Harry, confused.
"I thought that too, Harry," said Dumbeldore. "But when I was about to concede a loss, considering that we'd have to keep defeating Voldemort again and again, each time living in relative peace for only a short period until he regained corporeal form, I realised that there was a way."
"What is the way?" said Harry.
"Not what," said Dumbledore, looking pointedly at the young man seated before him before smiling for the first time since his return to the castle. "But whom?"
"What, me?" said Harry, incredulously.
"Yes you," said Dumbledore. "I have been thinking for years on how Voldemort had managed to survive his encounter with you as a baby. Naturally, a horcrux was one of the options, but there were a few others. Nonetheless, the moment I heard he took your blood I felt this could only serve as good news."
"Good news?" said Harry in disbelief. "He can touch me now."
"Don't fall into Voldemort's thinking," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort only sees effects, but can't understand causes. He knew he couldn't touch you and sought to correct it by what was logical to him, by embracing your blood. But didn't you ever consider that if by merely touching you he was harmed, why on earth would he risk placing what harmed him within his very veins? If I told you a certain poison would kill you by merely rubbing it on your skin, would you dare drink it as a way to overcome it?"
"But nothing happened to Voldemort. He can touch me, and he hasn't been harmed by my blood," said Harry, still not understanding.
"As far as you see, Harry, as far as you can see he hasn't been harmed," said Dumbledore. "Listen, what have we discussed a horcrux can do?"
"Give immortality to a person," said Harry, without pause.
"And is this just theoretical magic, or has it occurred in history?" asked Dumbledore.
"Must've occurred in history," said Harry. "Otherwise there would be no book describing it so Tom Riddle could learn to do it."
"Then where are the wizards or witches who achieved this immortality?" said Dumbledore, his eyes gleaming.
Harry opened his mouth, but no word came out as he couldn't think of anything. He then shut his mouth.
"Of all the magical people, who do you know managed to live in an almost immortal manner?" asked Dumbledore.
"Nicolas Flamel," said Harry, after thinking for a moment.
"Someone who, I must stress, did not achieve this with such dark magic as horcruxes," said Dumbledore. "Where then, are these immortal wizards or witches? What fear would they have to hide in the shadows if they were truly immortal? Voldemort surely is not the first evil person to walk this earth. We cannot underestimate the arrogance of evil, and only evil could inspire going down the path to even attempt to make a horcrux. If there was an evil person who was immortal, he or she would not hide."
"They died, then?" said Harry.
"Logic forces us to consider no other alternative," said Dumbledore. "In all the history and stories of the past, there is one undeniable fact in the battles between light and darkness..."
"And that is...?" asked Harry.
"Darkness always loses," said Dumbledore firmly. "Maybe not immediately, maybe not without an inordinate amount of loss and damage, but as sure as you are sitting in front of me, darkness always loses in the end."
"That's comforting I guess," said Harry. "But how does that affect us now?"
"Well, because this time the Dark Lord took one step too far with his arrogance and assumed he could handle anything thrown at him by taking your blood," said Dumbledore. "Do you recall the problem of splitting one's soul more than once, Harry?"
"It makes the soul unstable," said Harry.
"More or less, in short," said Dumbledore, nodding his head. "He intended to, and we have to assume he managed, split his soul seven times. It's unbelievably unstable. It's a testament to his power and control that his experimenting didn't blow up in his face and he died on the spot due to the rupture of his soul far too many times, to the point that each piece was too small to bring him back to this world without assistance which Pettigrew provided. And then what does he do?"
"He takes my blood?" said Harry.
"He takes your blood," repeated Dumbledore, speaking slowly and placing emphasis in each word. "The one thing he knows he has to avoid, he arrogantly attempts to consume it. When I heard you mention it after the Triwizard Tournament, I felt a small amount of glee at that news. I only had suspicions at that moment, but I knew nothing good could come of it. He was a man utterly incapable to understand the depth of powers such as love; he merely thought it a challenge to overcome in the most basic of actions."
"And how does that help us?" said Harry. He still couldn't figure out where the good news was in this mess.
"In every way, young Harry," said Dumbledore. "It takes us back to the prophecy. Love is the power he knows not. The moment he takes into his own body this power he cannot comprehend, he sets in motion the next step in the prophecy."
"Which is...?" asked Harry.
"Neither can live while the other survives," said Dumbledore. "Remember, he already had Horcruxes even at that point when the prophecy was made, yet it clearly says neither of you two can live. It doesn't just single out you who does not have any immortality."
"So he can die?" said Harry.
"So he can die," said Dumbledore. "If my thinking is correct."
"I'm still not following," said Harry.
"Think about it," said Dumbledore. "His soul must be unstable being split so many times. And he puts in his veins something that harmed him, your blood. Now he, and you, think he's not being damaged as the effects are not seen nor felt, but magic is far, far, deeper than Voldemort realises. See, despite all his power and abilities, what Voldemort lacks is understanding depth. To him things are black and white, powerful or not. Even when being defeated by something he didn't understand, being love when your mother sacrificed herself, rather than resolving to try to understand this new phenomenon to him, he seeks a shortcut. To a wizard such as Voldemort, the world is merely obstacles and ways to go around them. He does not understand magic, he only sees it as a tool to gain what he wants. In that way, he is no different than that little boy who never heard of Hogwarts but sought his vengeance upon those he thought wronged him."
"So my blood is damaging him?" asked Harry, who was still a bit confused.
"Why not?" said Dumbledore. ""If it affected his skin, why can't it be affecting his insides?"
"Why don't we just wait until he drops dead sometime?" said Harry.
"It's been almost two years," said Dumbledore. "We can't wait without being sure. But if your blood is doing enough damage maybe we can help it along by killing him ourselves."
"Well, that's lovely," said Harry. "Let's go get him, then."
"It's not that easy, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It never is."
"Okay, what else is there?" said Harry.
"He still has five horcruxes, and the soul within his body," said Dumbledore.
"Five of which we cannot find," said Harry, now confused again.
"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "That means he must be killed for every horcrux he has, as well as once more."
"Wait, how does that mean he needs to be killed that many times?" said Harry. "Why not just once?"
"His soul is unstable, I said," said Dumbledore. "Not that his horcruxes were completely ineffective. In a rather simplistic manner, imagine every horcrux he has is anchoring his soul to the earth. Now normally if he is 'killed' the horcrux keeps his soul from departing. But since the portion of the soul still within Voldemort's body is being destabilised by your blood, I believe an act of killing would be enough to sever the tie from one horcrux. The act of anchoring his soul being so strained that though it does the job normally, the vicious act of death would result in one horcrux getting severed from Voldemort's soul and then being no longer effective. And then the next time he's killed the same will happen to another of the horcruxes... all the way until all that is left is the piece of soul residing within him, and then once more to ultimately defeat him."
"That means..." said Harry. "Killing Voldemort six times?"
"Killing Voldemort six times," said Dumbledore nodding,"Or seven." His mood had returned to the grave one Harry walked into. He took out his spectacles and cleaned them with a cloth on his table. This went on in silence for a few minutes, until Harry finally broke it.
"Has anyone killed him up to this point?" asked Harry. "Even only once?"
"There has been no record of anyone killing him except for the moment his curse rebounded off you," said Dumbledore. "And I trust you see the gravity of our situation. Voldemort is a most formidable of wizards, his power immense. For one person to best him in a fight and kill him would be a triumph in itself. I shudder to think the potential costs of attempting to kill him multiple times."
Harry sat back, almost drained at the thought of the whole thing. He saw the fierceness of the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort, and there wasn't a witch or wizard with half the power of Dumbledore. How will they manage this?
"Still, it's the path we must take, whatever it may take to reach the end," said Dumbledore. "I shall talk to Professor McGonagall, school curriculum must be wholly concentrated towards defence and fighting the dark arts. I forsee a time shortly where there shall be no teaching location for the youth. We must prepare immediately."
Harry nodded silently.
"Go get some rest, Harry," said Dumbledore, warmly. "We're going to have to discuss how we're going to change strategies tomorrow."
Harry was honoured that Dumbledore considered that they'd work together in considering the next steps, though he was pretty sure Dumbledore would be the far more informed individual in how to proceed. Harry nodded to Dumbledore, lifted his now very weary self off the chair with some effort, and walked towards the door. Right before he walked through it, something caught his mind and he turned once more.
"Professor?" he said.
"Hmmm?" said Dumbledore, looking at him.
"What did you mean, killing him six times... or seven?" asked Harry.
"I have considered something, but this isn't the time to discuss it. Not until I'm sure," said Dumbledore. "I do not wish to cause you alarm. When the time comes, I'll let you know. Good night."
The 'good night' was made in a very polite manner, but left Harry with no doubt that this particular conversation was over. Harry wished his headmaster a good night and left the room.
Dumbledore continued to sit in his chair in silence for a good while longer, sipping his drink from time to time. Lost in his thoughts, one of the greatest wizards to walk the earth was considering as many scenarios as his mind could imagine. The paintings observed him throughout that time, not daring to say a word.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ron sat down in the couch with a large "oof". Hermione just looked at him.
"Breaking up with Lavender Brown has got to be the toughest thing imaginable," he said, relief in his weary voice. "I really deserve an award for that."
"You wanted to do that for the past two weeks, and attempted four times and failed," said Hermione. "You deserve nothing but my pity."
"I deserve some credit for not giving up," said Ron.
"Nope," said Hermione, with an impish grin.
"Is that Cormac coming over?" said Ron, looking over Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione stiffened and bent slightly over, making herself smaller and less visible to see. She slowly turned her head to look behind her, and seeing nobody she turned back to Ron, who was grinning with victory at his point being made.
"Ha ha," she said, sarcastically. "Fine, your point stands."
"I mean I had only Lavender to complain about," said Ron. "But you had Krum and now McLaggen, what do they have in common? Imposing guys who you then realise are a bit too full of themselves for any sane witch."
"Surely we can't forget your needy 'Won-Won's?" said Hermione, with a raised eyebrow.
"Never mind," said Ron. "Let's call this a draw and move on."
"Agreed," said Hermione, looking back to the open book on her lap. She played with a strand of her hair absentmindedly as she read.
"I wonder what Dumbledore wanted with Harry?" asked Ron after a few minutes.
Hermione, after a moment, looked up from her book at Ron. "I dunno," she said. "He'll tell us when he comes back. It usually is something important they discuss."
"You know," said Ron, "I don't think Dumbledore meets with any other student individually. It's incredible the things they discuss, I mean Harry knows things most other professors don't even know. It's like they have their own things to talk about, that Dumbledore doesn't talk with anyone else. I wonder why?"
"You want the short answer?" she said. "Or the long one?"
"Short," said Ron, not fully sure.
"Harry's special," said Hermione, who turned back to her book. She sighed when Ron spoke again.
"Eh?" said Ron.
"He's special," she repeated.
"Just because of the prophecy thingy?" he asked.
"No, and you don't think that either," she said. "Think, every time something insane has happened when we've been in Hogwarts, who is the only student throwing himself to try to figure out why and if it's dangerous, who is the only student who risks everything to try to stop it?"
Ron was silent.
"I mean, we laugh about it," said Hermione. "But we were eleven years old - eleven - when he led us to try to get the philosopher's stone before who he thought was Snape could get it. It's ridiculous when you think about it. How many eleven-year-olds are running about doing a tenth of that?"
"We were there too," said Ron.
"Yes, yes we were," she said, smiling. "But honestly, would we have been anywhere near there, or the Chamber, or the Shrieking Shack... and on and on and on, were Harry not around?"
Ron had to concede that point.
"That's why Dumbledore talks to him, I guess," she said. "Because regardless of him not being the smartest, most powerful, nor most resourceful wizard about, he has that thing about him where things happen and he manages to cause an effect. Even if sometimes it's pure dumb luck, he makes a difference."
"Hermione," said someone behind her. "I sound awesome!"
They turned around and saw Harry standing behind them. Hermione slapped his arm, and he sat on the couch between them.
"So...?" said Ron, looking intently at him.
"Well, it's a long one," said Harry. "Let's go back to our room."
And so Harry told his closest two friends the discussion he had with Dumbledore, and their reactions were easily predictable as quite frankly anyone would react that way. Hermione gasped and Ron's jaw dropped as he let out a few curses.
"Kill Vo-Vol-" said Ron, who swallowed. "Voldemort six times? We'd be bloody lucky if we survived two times."
"Normally I'd love to disagree with Ron," said Hermione. "But this is going to be insane. No wizard has managed to make a killing blow at Voldemort before. There's not a single claim in the history books of someone hitting him with the Killing curse. And he won't hesitate to burn cities to the ground to survive."
"I know," said Harry, shaking his head. "It's going to be madness."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dean Thomas, a lanky young male, could not hold his laugh in as he walked in the corridor with Seamus, from McGonagall's office. Seamus, looking a bit peeved, could not share in the humour.
"Keep laughing, you git," said Seamus, who wasn't angry. "You were of no help."
"Help?" said Dean, looking incredulously at his best friend. "What in the bloody hell was I supposed to say?!"
"Oh come on," said Seamus. "Let's get back to the common room before Snape finds us."
They walked down the corridor, and an owl flew in from the open window high above. It landed on Dean's outstretched arm, and he took the letter tied to its leg. Dean stroked the feathers for a bit, before letting the owl fly off.
"Pretty late for a letter, isn't it?" asked Seamus.
"Yeah, I asked my Mum for the score about the West Ham game this afternoon," said Dean.
"Just tell me whenever you get the score from an Ireland game," said Seamus.
"Funny, not a football fan, but if Ireland's playing..." began Dean.
"Then I'm watching," said Seamus.
As Dean looked down to open his letter, he didn't see before him, so he didn't know why Seamus was poking his shoulder. Looking up to snap at his friend, he saw what Seamus was looking at.
Walking towards them was a rather attractive young lady with red hair walking towards them, talking animatedly with a female friend. She hadn't seen them yet. Dean looked around to see if he could hide or make a turn, but there wasn't anywhere close enough. Seamus read his friend's thoughts.
"And you call yourself a Gryffindor," Seamus said sadly.
"It's so awkward," said Dean.
By that point, she had seen him, and after a small start she continued to walk with a stiff smile.
"Hi, Dean," she said.
"Ginny," said Dean, nodding.
And they walked by one another. After a few steps, he looked at Seamus.
"So?" asked Dean.
"So... what?" said Seamus.
"Was I cool enough?" said Dean. "Did she think I looked nervous?"
"Do I look like I know what she's thinking?" said Seamus. "I wasn't staring at your face, mate. And you said one word. Come on, let's just go to sleep."
By that point they had reached the portrait, Seamus said the password, and they entered.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Remus Lupin was sitting in the Headmaster's office alone which left him to his thoughts. He felt stressed and it wasn't completely because of the mental strain that war preparations caused. The war preparations had him working with Kingsley Shacklebolt to secure resources in safe locations as well as rounding up those willing to fight the moment things got crazy. He had been travelling endlessly, including to continental Europe to pick up items that Dumbledore deemed potentially useful.
The other stress-cause was a particular hair-colour changing witch who...
"A Knut for your thoughts, Remus?" said a voice.
Remus turned to see Dumbledore walking into the office, along with Hagrid.
"Wha-oh?" said Remus, flustered. "Oh, it was nothing, just thinking about my next travel plans."
"I've seen that look many times before," said Dumbledore, his eyes with a knowing twinkle. "I've never seen it regarding travel plans. No, they tend to be more about the affairs of emotions."
Hagrid politely didn't say anything. Remus sighed.
"Yes, yes, it is," he said. "More about my inability to engage in such affairs, due to my state."
"I disagree," said Dumbledore, but possibly seeing how uncomfortable Remus looked, changed the subject. "How have things been going?"
"Slow, but Kingsley and I have made some progress," said Remus. "We've moved some objects to where you've told us to leave them. I placed a copy of what they are on your desk."
"Good, good," said Dumbledore. "Things need to be moving as quickly as possible. I fear we don't have much time at all."
"How are we going to know when it's started?" asked Hagrid.
"We'll know," said Dumbledore. "In fact, I'm waiting for some news right now."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Slytherin dungeons weren't as dark and gloomy looking as the other Houses expected. Still, there was a dull greenish hue to the fire on the torches. The walls were rough to touch, and the air cooler being in the lower levels of the castle, but it was no less comfortable than what any of the other House resided in. A small group of students sat around a couch, which was also occupied. The platinum blond hair of one stood out.
"Man," said one of the students said aloud. "I'm sick of all this tension. They look at us like we're going to AK them in the back."
"Can you blame them?" said Draco Malfoy, who was looking at the ground hard. "When the time comes, some of us will."
"You know, I don't want to fight," said the student. "I just want to go to classes and graduate. Why does everything have to be a conflict?"
"Almost nobody decides that," said Malfoy. "We just choose what side to be on."
"And if we don't want to choose?" asked the student.
"Well," said a voice from a few metres away, breaking into the conversation. "Do you really want to be standing alone in the middle when killing curses are being thrown about aimlessly?"
They looked to the direction of the voice. A tall student had entered the common room, and was walking in their direction with enough confidence to share it amongst the rest of the students and still have some to spare.
"Blaise," said Malfoy. "Finished the detention already?"
"I did the job asked" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I wasn't going to wait for further jobs to do."
"So you're going to pick a side?" said the student, looking even more nervous at that thought.
"I already did," said Zabini, looking confused at being asked. "With the Dark Lord, of course."
"You're sure of it?" asked a student who was quiet up to this point.
"Well, I'm with Dumbledore," said Terence Higgs.
"I agree with Terence," said Daphne Greengrass. "I like things the way they are. Dumbledore winning makes sure of that. Who knows what would happen if the Dark Lord won."
"Yeah," said Terence. "What problem do you have with muggle-borns? They never bothered me. They're as good as any other witch or wizard."
"They're worthless," said Pansy. "Weaker and useless."
"Mudbloods aren't necessarily useless," said Zabini, who walked to pick up a book from a table and sat down to read it.
The others stared at him. He didn't elaborate and continued to read, not paying attention to them looking at him.
"Wait, they're not?" said Pansy Parkinson. "I thought you said..."
"It depends," said Zabini. "Look at that Granger girl. I bet she knows more about magic than any of you can even fake."
"Then why...?" began Malfoy.
"They're not of us," said Zabini, answering the unfinished question. "They're raised in that other world. They know how to wave a wand, but they don't understand what it means to be a wizard or witch. They don't know the traditions of what fills this world. There's alot of responsibility to wield a force that nobody really understands where it comes from. The muggle world is full of cause and effect. They can't understand the essence of this unexplainable power. Magic is not just potions or spells, it's centuries of deep understanding. Tradition. Passed down by generations. It's in our very blood that goes back centuries. How can someone who was not raised by people who have experienced it's existence hope to understand enough of it in a lifetime?
"They're not one of us. They're better off never knowing they can use magic," said Zabini. "They just don't belong here."
"Don't you feel you have to think this way?" said Malfoy. "We're Slytherins, with our families...?" he let the end trail off.
"Have to?" said Zabini. "Look at Terrence and Daphne. If you didn't make the decision, you still made a choice by not walking away from the Dark Lord."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The sudden shift in class subjects caught most of the student body off guard. Defense Against the Dark Arts took a massive chunk of the day, and the likes of Transfiguration, Potions and Charms took a slightly more defensive tone as much as it could. Most of the other subjects were dropped and those professors stepping in to provide teaching in the mentioned subjects. History of Magic became more about historical conflicts and strategies. The likes of Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape were excellent individuals to teach Defence so many years could be taught simultaneously. Even Dumbledore stepped in and resumed teaching duties. Time was short, and the moment the first battle began, running a school could turn out to be impossible.
The reasons behind the changes were not kept a secret. A dull hush fell upon the castle, and students spoke in whispers about the inevitable war as they roamed the corridors.
Ron Weasley was walking alone back to the Gryffindor common room from the Great Hall after being late for lunch that afternoon, and he was lost in his thoughts as he made his way through the castle.
He had to admit he was feeling nervous ever since Harry told him about the plans to defeat Vol-Vol... the Dark Lord becoming much harder. He was too young to remember, but he grew up being told about the mayhem of the last war. He lost his uncles and many other relatives.
As he was making his way up a flight of stairs, he walked by a few girls huddled together under a portrait. One of them saw him, and Padma Patil waved. He waved back.
"What are you doing, walking about alone?" she said, smiling.
"I really don't think Death Eaters are going to jump through the portraits at any moment," he said, his tone jovial.
"You never know," she said.
"I have to go back to my House," said Ron. "Nice seeing you lot."
"Wait," said another girl from the group, who happened to be Cho Chang. "I'm heading there. Do you mind if I accompany you?"
"No," said Ron, confused.
And so they walked together towards the tower. They were in silence for awhile, Ron never really recalled having much of a conversation with Cho before.
"So why do you need to go to Gryffindor tower?" he asked, curious.
"I need to return something to Lavender Brown," she said.
"I'd offer to give it to her for you..." said Ron, who really didn't want to have a conversation with Lavender at the present circumstances.
"Don't worry," said Cho, with a laugh that said she clearly knew of Ron's recent break-up. "I wouldn't be able to give it to you, anyways. I'm holding it in confidence."
"So why are you returning it?" said Ron. "Can you tell me that?"
"I got an owl from my parents," she said, her smile disappearing. "They're considering pulling me from the school."
"Why?" said Ron.
"For obvious reasons," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Everyone heard about Dumbledore preparing us for war. No parent is comfortable with their kids being taught about that."
"It's worse if we're not prepared," said Ron.
"I know, but they're in denial," said Cho. "If we acknowledge the situation by teaching lessons only on fighting, then we have to accept the negative truth. Most of the students I know are getting letters from parents to leave Hogwarts. Terry Boot had an argument with his parents. Haven't yours talked to you about it?"
"Mine?" said Ron, thinking to himself. "No, I guess not. My parents have been helping Dumbledore against the Dark Lord for awhile now. I guess we've accepted it for the past two years."
"That's so brave of them," she said.
"We Gryffindors are stubborn people," said Ron. "Speaking of which, the portrait down the corridor. I'm going to ask you to stay here while I go in and call Lavender to come out for you."
"Don't you trust me?" she asked.
"What's the word to get into the Ravenclaw common room?" asked Ron. Seeing her silent, he then said, "See? Same thing."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry was looking into the Marauder's Map as he waited for Hermione to finish her lunch. He had arrived to lunch first, while Ron hadn't even come yet. It was common these days considering the teachers had to sometimes split students up during lessons into smaller groups to explain difficult concepts. Harry, who was put together with Seamus and Dean, went through the lesson first. Hermione, who was with Neville and Lavender, went second. Ron was with Parvati and Susan Bones, and still hadn't begun the lesson yet.
Finally Hermione walked out the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry got off the bench and cleared the map out.
"Done?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
They were quiet at first, as they went up a few flights of stairs. Passing a group of students that were, quite unlike most of the others these days, laughing loudly at some story being told, Harry broke the silence.
"They almost look like everything is normal," said Harry.
"We haven't lost everything," said Hermione.
"Things are never going to be the same again for us," he said.
"Have hope, Harry," she said. "The wizarding world recovered after the last war."
"Yeah, but those who fought in it changed after it," said Harry.
She entwined her arm with his. "Then at least let's change for the better," she said.
"Harry!" said a voice behind them, which turned out to be McGonagall when they looked. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you."
"I'll see you later," said Hermione, pulling away.
"You can come along if you want," said Harry. "Dumbledore knows I tell Ron and you everything right after."
"Thanks, but I think you know Dumbledore much better than I do," said Hermione. "Go ahead."
Harry went to Dumbledore's office. After giving the password (Chocolate Nougat) he knocked on the door, and entered when he got permission. He saw Dumbledore seated behind the desk, as well as two others seated in front.
"Hey Hagrid," said Harry. "Remus! How are you?"
Harry went up and gave Remus a hug.
"I've felt better," he said. "Full moon was a couple of nights ago."
"I'm sorry," said Harry.
"No worries, Harry," he said. "How have things been with you?"
"They're okay," said Harry. "A bit worried about things."
"As well all are," said Remus.
"Sir, Professor McGonagall said you wished to see me," said Harry.
"Yes, I did," said Dumbledore. "I'm expecting some news and wanted to talk with you as it came."
"Oh?" said Harry, confused as normally Dumbledore would call for him after receiving news and not before. "About what?"
"I have my suspicions, but let's wait until word arrives. I don't like to speculate if it's not needed," said Dumbledore. "We were discussing the affairs of the heart a short while back."
"I don't think now's the time for that," said Harry softly. "The world's too dangerous."
"Really," said Dumbledore, an eyebrow raised.
"Voldemort back, war is coming, and none of us knowing if we'll be here tomorrow," said Harry, looking at the ground. "This is not the time to think about such a distraction."
"I'm surprised to hear that from you, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Is it not even more admirable that love can be expressed in such a trying time make it even more cherished?"
"Not if you're afraid of losing people," said Harry, who was not expecting to be this forthcoming, but the recent death of a loved one had caused him to dwell on it far too long that he couldn't stop himself from saying what he'd been thinking for quite some time.
"We're all going to lose people some time," said Dumbledore. "It's inevitable. It's the moments we've experienced before we're separated by death that is important."
"Almost everyone I've loved has left me," said Harry. "I can't risk..."
"Risk?" said Dumbledore. "You still have many people you care deeply about, like Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Would you cut them off for fear of them dying in the future?"
"No," said Harry, his voice softer still.
"Would you regret your friendships with them, should you lose either of them?" said Dumbledore.
"No," was the answer.
"There's nothing about you that precludes you from love," said Dumbledore, looking from Harry to Remus. "I know the lives you have lived have been particularly isolated, but don't think that it means you deserve it any less. Your parents got married in the thick of the last war. They were barely older than you are now when they sadly perished. They were just 21. The time they had together was undoubtedly priceless, won't you agree?"
Harry nodded his head.
"You do not know if you will be breathing tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "Would you deny yourself love today, hoping to wait for a time you're not even sure you'll be around? Do not pity those who have died, but those who live without love."
They sat around in silence for a few minutes, Dumbledore stroking Fawkes as it sang a song softly yet warmth enveloped all that was in the room, until McGonagall entered the office. She had a piece of paper in her hand.
"The Minister for Magic has been assassinated," she said, her voice a bit higher in pitch than usual.
Remus and Hagrid stood up. Dumbledore placing his index fingers together, and closed his eyes. Harry just looked at each adult, his eyes wide open.
A knock was sounded at the door. Mad-Eye Moody walked in, with his staff as a walking stick. He let out a low growl when told about the news, but otherwise exhibited no emotion. Moody had years of experience hearing devastating news, and panic was never a reaction of his.
"It gets worse," said Moody. "Snape hasn't reported to the meeting place."
"Maybe he's been unable to leave," said McGonagall.
"No, I've been there three times, as discussed," said Moody gruffly, shaking his head.
"He's been taken," said Remus, rubbing his forehead. "His cover's blown."
"What does this mean?" said McGonagall.
Up to that point, the three were talking together, almost forgetting the others in the room. The headmaster of Hogwarts finally spoke.
"It means that Voldemort has cast the first spell," he said, his voice grave, his face serious, his blue eyes particularly dull in colour, "It means that war has begun."
A/N: If you noticed, I didn't want to give the impression that Slytherin house was merely 100% pro-Voldemort. I never liked the idea of the whole house being brushed with such a stroke. I prefer nuance.
Please review.