Not everything is as it seems. Or is it? Or it isn't? Great, Now I am confusing myself.
Disclaimer:" Me no owny Harry Potty, Harry Potter Universe and its characters belong to J..
Chapter 1: Now what?
"H-hello Harry," Managed to stutter the clearly jittery figure as he quickly glanced about the dilipated room.
"S-Sirius, Remus, how nice to see you," There was a slight quiver in his voice as he turned to his former friends; Remus Lupin wearing a small, strange smile while Sirius Black barely holding himself from voicing a growl.
"Peter, how nice of you to drop by," Remarked Lupin calmly while still smiling his strange smile, his tone light as if cornering an Animagus was a daily, pleasant activity.
To a casual viewer, scene might would have looked ridiculous. After all, one rarely saw an unconscious floating figure in air, three not-quite-sane adults and three small children with a rather unhealthy and unbecoming pallor in their skin, all in one tiny, half-destroyed, cramped, and rather ugly room. It didn't help matters that the children were changing their facial expressions between strange, weird and just plain disturbing.
Harry Potter was not a happy camper. The Shrieking Shack was not a comfortable place to be even in the best of times, and as far as Harry was concerned, this was as far from the best of times as it could be. Watching a long-time pet transform in a particularly ugly man as well as being stuck between a seemingly traitorous Professor and a seemingly very hungry mass-murderer, if Black's facial expression was anything to go by, was not the place to be.
"Pete, sit down, have a cup of tea. Don't be a stranger," Lupin was acting rather screwy. That smile of his was scaring the shit out of Harry. The last thing he needed was that yet another of his teachers embraces their crazy side. Not that Lupin was all that normal to begin with. Anyone whose first instinct when faced with a notoriously nasty poltergeist was to stuck something in its nostril, was definitely not, in any shape or form, all quite there.
"Remus…" Pettigrew started to say before he was interrupted by Lupin, who still seemed stuck in some strange la-la land.
"Alas, I seem to have no tea on me at the moment. Maybe something else?" Peter Pettigrew was confused. He had expected accusations. Threats. Even torture. But certainly not this.
"No, t-thank you, Remus. I am q-quite fine."
"Come on, Peter, what about a chocolate bar?" asked Lupin serenely, his strange smile still on his lips.
As Pettigrew opened his mouth to answer, he noticed Lupin's strange smile becoming a homicidal grin while Black started to have spit leaking from his mouth in a very dog-like way.
The straw that broke the camel's back was when Peter witnessed a truly horrifying sight of Lupin's madly twinkling eyes as he started offering him a bar of chocolate.
'He twinkled. He fucking twinkled.'
Faced with a now decidedly insane Lupin and a probably cannibalistic Black, Peter Pettigrew wisely decided that discretion was truly the better part of valor, and made a courageous run for it.
Unfortunately for him, he didn't get very far.
"Sir?"
Yet again, Harry Potter was helplessly trapped in the headmaster's office. This was slowly becoming a tradition that he really wanted no part of.
"Ah, yes, Harry. How are you my boy? Would you care for a lemon drop?" Albus Dumbledore greeted the young man, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes.
Harry paled as he was suddenly assaulted with petrifying images of yesterday's carnage. Shuddering, he refused the offered sweet. Now that he knew that the Twinkle represented repressed psychopathic tendencies, there was no way that he was going to accept anything from Headmaster's hand.
To his growing horror, the Headmaster's eyes seemed to only twinkle fiercer, as if he could guess the direction of Harry's thoughts.
"No, sir. Erm… why did you call me, professor?"
He really wanted to get the hell out of there. After yesterday's events, he knew better than to remain alone with the Twinkle for any prolonged periods of time. However, this could be important.
"Harry, do you know why the Dark Arts are classified as such?"
'Wha?'
This was… strange. What did he know about the Dark Arts really?
'A big, fat zero, that's what.'
He had no idea what the Dark Arts even entailed, let alone why were they somewhat in the distant past labeled as Dark. Sure he could make an educated guess, but he still knew zilch when it came to fact.
A tired and deep sigh interrupted his musings, as Dumbledore came to an unpleasant conclusion.
"I see,"
Dumbledore calmly removed his glassed and started rubbing them with a cloth from his drawer.
"I hope you won't mind a short history lesson from this old man, Harry, as it may become important for you to know of these things," intoned the Headmaster as he calmly put the glasses back on.
"The first time that the term 'Dark Arts' came into existence was, if memory serves, in sixteenth century, after a particularly vicious bloodbath during the power-struggle between the three most powerful Houses at that time; the House of Nott, the House of Prewett and the House of Gray. Their personal struggle, at the beginning no different than any other of those times, quickly escalated into a full-blown civil war. By the time they were done, House of Nott had lost almost all of its vast fortune and estates, the House of Prewett lost 90% of their extended kin and the House of Gray almost ceased to exist. Together with the casualties that their perspective allies suffered, over 40 percent of the Wizards from the Isles was dead," Albus Dumbledore remarked sadly as he popped a lemon-drop into his mouth.
"Nott? That sounds familiar," interrupted a thoughtful Harry as he tried to remember where he had heard the name.
Dumbledore sadly shook his head as he watched one of his charges try to remember the name to no avail.
'It seems he is a little bit self-centered, after all. Oh well, it is to be expected, not many have had to deal with his kind of problems at his age. Still, it's not like he has that many yearmates to remember…'
"I certainly would hope so, Harry, since one of your peers is a scion of that particular House; one Theodore Nott, to be precise."
'Huh? Oh, that Slytherin guy from my year, the one with the scary face. What did Ron call him again? The Magic Scarecrow? No, that's not it. The Human Stick? Nope, that's not it either.'
"Oh, yeah, I remember him now, professor. The one with dark hair?" asked a rather sheepish Harry.
'Errr… this just sounded so stupid. It's not like the Slytherins consist of only Malfoys… there are also Crab and Goyle. Oh, and Flint. Pansy Parkinson, too.'
Okay, so he knew the total of five people from Slytherin, that didn't mean he was stupid, right?
Albus Dumbledore just sadly shook his head at his charge's lack of knowledge and decided to continue the lesson before faced with more sorrow-inducing proof.
"I suppose that it isn't that important, at least at the moment. Although, do keep in mind, Harry, that silence can truly be golden,"
'Why do I feel insulted all of a sudden?'
"The aftermath of the power struggle between these three Houses was terrible. Hundreds of wizards and witches dead. Numerous towns and villages damaged and half-razed. Entire generations were lost. However, this marked the last time when powerful Houses could tyrannically impose their will on the rest. With most of their power and resources lost in the war, the old and powerful Houses were unable to retain their position of supremacy. Council of Magic, an entity that until then had only held the smallest of privileges and liberties, managed to seize that opportunity and create a new order in Britain. This Council of Magic would soon become the Ministry of Magic, and would invoke a great magnitude of new laws, policies and rules. One of the first new laws, was the so-called 'Dark Law'. It prohibited the casting of spells that the Ministry had deemed dark, irrespective of circumstances or justifications. A similar clause existed for learning such spells. The punishment for breaking this law was either imprisonment or, in extreme cases, execution," the elder wizard suddenly stopped and after a moment of hesitation chuckled.
"Isn't it ironic Harry, that a law which purpose was supposedly to end the bloodshed, would almost cause a rebellion?"
Harry frowned and turned to look at the Dumbledore's familiar, Fawkes, who had suddenly appeared in a blaze of fire.
"A rebellion, Professor? I understand that some of the Wizards would be angry with a law that restrained their previous absolute freedom, but it seems to me a bit idiotic to try and start a rebellion because of a relatively little rule like that. So what if they were forbidden from casting a couple of nasty spells? They should have been concerned with rebuilding what they have destroyed anyway."
Dumbledore looked carefully at the young man seated before him before he suddenly started to laugh. Needless to say, Harry felt deeply offended.
'What's the big idea, you old goat? I try to be mature and say something profound and you start to laugh?'
Noticing Harry's angry expression, Dumbledore stopped laughing and quickly continued with his story.
"Oh my dear boy, that had not been the case at all! You see, Harry, it all comes down to the way Wizards lived and acted in those days. As I mentioned before, British Isles before the sixteenth century, were a rather hectic and chaotic place. With no central government and with Wizengamot being rife with corruption and self-interest, the de facto rulers were the Lords and Ladies of the most powerful Houses. As such, conflicts and duels were quite common. No wonder then, that a veritable plethora of curses and spells that served a warlike purpose were created or modified from existing ones. Each and every household had in its possession at least several of these new combat spells, with the most powerful Houses, like the House of Gray, for example, being capable of employing dozens, if not hundreds, of such war spells in battle. Most of the families had even developed their own!
These spells are one of the reasons why those conflicts of old had such vast casualties. It were these spells, as well as some others, that the Wizards of 16th century were forbidden from using by Ministry of Magic.
Can you see now, perhaps, why so many of the Wizards felt angry at this decree that forbid them from using those combat spells?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.
"Not really, Professor," replied the now very scared Gryffindor.
'Damn twinkle. Damn Dumbledore. He wants to give me a heart attack, I just know it.'
"Come now, Harry, I am sure that you can figure it out easily if you just put your mind to it."
'Is it just me, or did his eyes just go super-twinkle mode?'
"Erm… I really don't know, Professor," Harry started replying slowly before he thought of an idea.
"Wait! Power? They didn't want to give up using their spells because of power and… security?"
"Exactly, Harry. Those who were the bitterest opponents of this new law were those who stood the most to lose. Old, powerful families, which have spent decades so painstakingly collecting and creating new spells in order to gain advantage and prosperity for their families, were now being forced to relinquish something that essential to their way of life and tradition, something which they believed was their obvious birth-right. Not only had they lost their former power, but they had also been forced to relinquish their greatest weapons which they had hoped to use later in their unavoidable quest of regaining supremacy. Is it any wonder that they were beyond enraged? Of course, that is what the first Minister of Magic had wanted in the first place. A way to restrain and manhandle the arrogant and dangerous Noble Houses, and ensure that his ideas were the new norm."
Harry started to feel a spinning sensation inside his head. He really didn't like politics. Although, there was something which was bothering him.
"Professor Dumbledore, wasn't the first Minister of Magic also removing his own power base? Also, how there weren't any members of these powerful families inside the Ministry of Magic who could have stopped this law from ever coming to life?"
Albus Dumbledore smiled and nodded his head, satisfied that the young man before him had caught onto this little fact.
'His powers of insight are truly remarkable, as long as he can be bothered to actually use them. This reminds me of someone…'
"Ah, I am glad you noticed it. Of course, you would be correct, if it weren't for the fact that the First Minister wasn't one of the 'Noble Houses'. His family, although ancient and of pure blood, had never been powerful or influential. Thus, he stood nothing to lose by surrendering the few spells his kin had, and everything to gain by toppling his rivals."
Harry shook his head, not making any sense of what Dumbledore was telling him.
"But how did he become the Minister in the first place if he didn't have some amount of power?"
"Ah, but you are forgetting Harry, that Ministry hasn't always been the today's Ministry, but rather the weak and ceremonial Council of Magic. It was the custom that most of the Council seats were held by families and Houses of no real power. 'The Great and Noble Houses' held only disdain for the Council, which of course eventually proved to be their downfall, when they were at their most vulnerable. The answer to your second question is simply the fact that there were no members of 'Noble Houses' in the Ministry of Magic. In fact, every position of importance in the First Ministy of Magic was held either by a 'half-blood' or a non-influential 'pureblood'. Just as the position of the Minister of Magic. I imagine that Richard Weasley had felt considerable satisfaction at seeing his enemies, who had despised and ridiculed his family so, powerless to stop him as he removed their power from under their feet."
Something snapped in Harry's head when he heard the familiar name.
"W-Wait! What?! Weasley?" asked the flaggerbasted Harry.
"Yes, The First Minister of Ministry of Magic had been one Richard Weasley, the ancestor of your friend Ronald Weasley."
"But how?"
"Why such surprise, Harry? I thought you knew that the Weasleys are so called 'purebloods'," asked the amused Dumbledore.
'Sure professor, but there's a BIG ASS difference between 'Weasley' pureblood and 'High and Mighty' pureblood.'
"I-I knew that, Headmaster, but… I expected someone more pompous and arrogant to have had an ancestor for a First Minister. Like Malfoy or McMillian. Not someone so…" Harry trailed off helplessly as he tried to think of words to succinctly describe the Weasleys.
"Kind? Humble?" supplied Albus Dumbledore with a smile. "Or perhaps you meant something else?"
"No, that's what I meant. I simply had imagined the descendants of such a well-known figure to be someone… well, someone more well-off." Harry finished with a blush, his cheeks reddening from shame for thinking like that of his best mate's family. It seemed that the Ron's touchiness about his family's material status was rubbing off on him.
"Understandable. Sadly, Harry, the very fact that Richard Weasley is their patriarch, is the reason for their misfortune."
"How? Hadn't their status changed when the families like the Notts had lost their power?" asked the confused Potter.
Dumbledore sadly sighed and turned to stare outside the window. The summer sun was brightly shining on the Hogwarts' Grounds, illuminating even the shadows under the gargantuan trees of the Forbidden Forest. The elderly Headmaster watched in silence the green and rolling slopes of numerous hills that dotted the landscape before he slowly turned to stare at Harry with a sad smile on his lips, a twinkle long gone from his eyes.
"That, Harry, is not my answer to give. Suffice to say, Richard Weasley's actions had created many bitter and unforgiving enemies. Besides, our time grows short. I had called you here to tell you something both significantly important and entirely unfortunate about our recent 'guest'."
Immediately, Harry concentrated on Dumbledore with a raw zeal.
"What happened? Has Pettigrew escaped? Have they caught Sirius?" Harry started to panic.
'This is not happening. No way am I going to go back to Dursleys. No bloody way in hell.'
Not after being so close to escaping them forever. He finally managed to find someone who was family, someone who could take him away from the arseholes that were his living relatives. He had a godfather, the best friend of his father. Sure, Sirius had issues, several in fact. Yes, he was a fugitive on the run with a questionable sanity and a possible serious eating-disorder. Still, after one day of knowing him, Harry liked him far better than any one of his relatives or crazy professors, and couldn't be gladder to live with him.
Despite the serious situation, Dumbledore chuckled at the truly pitiful expression on the boy's face and quickly tried to assuage his concerns.
"No, nothing like that. Mr. Black is still safely hidden and Mr. Pettigrew is still in our custody. Although, these unpleasant news do concern him."
Harry will never forget how close the rat bastard had been to escaping the previous night. Badly beaten, and with a couple of broken legs courtesy of Professor Lupin and Sirius, Pettigrew had still skillfully managed to remove his bindings when Lupin had transformed into a Werewolf and tried to attack Harry, Ron and Hermione. If not for Sirius, the trio would now either have been pieces of guts or would have joined the ranks of Werewolves. And Pettigrew would have managed to leave Hogwarts if not for slimy, nasty, wretched, ugly, disgusting, nauseating, and simply disgusting, Severus Snappily Snape.
"After Severus had managed to retrieve Mr. Pettigrew, I had our 'guest' undergo a full interrogation process which sadly revealed some unfortunate truths, both about Mr. Pettigrew and Voldemort. I had in vain spent this whole day searching for a way to inform you gently of my findings, but I am afraid that it seems to me an impossible venture. Therefore, I must in advance ask you Harry to forgive me for my bluntness for informing you like this. There are two things that you must know:
The first one concerns one Peter Pettigrew. He is innocent of his crimes, and he himself just a terrible proof of the evil tidings that you sadly must know.
As for the other... Voldemort may have stumbled onto something more terrible than Powers of Torture and Death in his experiments before his defeat. I fear that his return is not just a fear of an old fool. I fear the knowledge which he will bring back with him."
Seeing Albus Dumbledore sorrowfully gazing into his eyes, with no twinkle present, told Harry one thing, and one thing only.
"I am fucked."