Please understand what I do here is play around with some of the established cannon. I will do my damnedest to make sure I write each character as they are in the source material with the correct amount of character development to explain certain...differences.
On a side note it is very interesting how many people seem to forget about Firenze.
Deep within the ground, beneath the thousands of scurrying feet of busy, clueless Muggles, alarms were screeching in the Department of Mysteries. Everywhere throughout the department, men and women uniformed in blue rushed about in a panic, trying to pinpoint the source of the alarm. Meanwhile, a man dressed in a navy-blue uniform adorned in gold calmly walked down a hallway to reach the department's center; a place of spinning doorways. The man was tall, broad-shouldered and pale, with unkempt black hair. His intense dark eyes told anyone who crossed his path that he meant business.
The man walked with an air of assurance that only came after facing crises more times than a person could count on their fingers. He strolled down the hallway, his eyes focused on the thick oak door at the very end. A hulking giant of a man - fiendishly tall, bald as a chicken's egg with a thin, blond mustache - hurried to step alongside the man in navy-blue.
"Mustang, do you think it's another false alarm?"
Reaching out with a white gloved hand, man named Mustang turned toward the blond, mustachioed giant.
"Alex, haven't I told you enough times to call me Roy? We're not Aurors anymore."
Alex's face broke out into a mildly embarrassed smile as he looked down at his one-time superior. "I know Mus...Roy. It just doesn't feel right. I still can't believe they took away both our ranks."
Roy Mustang smiled sardonically at his good friend Alex Louis Armstrong. After the first war with Lord Voldemort, both of them had been placed in this dead-end career path. Apparently the new peace-time Minister, Cornelius Fudge, had thought (rightly so) that Roy and his compatriots were political rivals.
Deep down, Roy Mustang knew that if he had just a little more time to reorganize the battered Auror forces under his command and convince Alex's dear, sweet elder sister Olivier Mira Armstrong to send him at least a few platoons of her battle-harden Night Legion, he could have overthrown this despicable government. Alas per usual, Olivier - the well-nicknamed Black Queen - had point-blank told Mustang to go fornicate with himself. She had even offered the use of her unsheathed sword to do so. Needless to say, Roy had not taken up on her offer and had resigned himself to attempt to draw other like-minded individuals to his cause.
Mustang remembered at one point, finding a dozen individuals who proved to agree with him. However, that had been the day when he found he had been transferred. That bastard Fudge had seen exactly what kind of man Roy Mustang was and had seen fit to scuttle Mustang's career, along with his entire senior and junior staff's as well. Each and every last one of them had been transferred to the most dead-end jobs that were possible. Most of his female staff had been relegated to nothing more than secretaries. It still burned Roy to bright-red flames that some of his most capable staff had been treated in such a demeaning and sexist way.
When Roy had learned of his new position as an Unspeakable, he also learned of one of the unspoken rules of the job. Once you were an Unspeakable, you could never be anything else. No Unspeakable, past or present, was allowed to change their career choice once they were placed in that department. Apparently the "official" explanation was to prevent anyone from passing on the secrets of magical Britain.
Roy had done his best to keep in contact with his staff. Unfortunately for him, most sensed where things were headed and simply left their monotonous jobs at the Ministry. With the skill-set a majority of them possessed, many found new, very lucrative careers. Roy had received several letters from all over the world - Africa, the Middle East, and even some isolated parts of Asia - written by former members of his staff who had hired themselves out as mercenaries. Admittedly, Mustang had been very tempted to do the same but he couldn't, in good conscious, leave this government, this nation as it was.
At every occasion that presented itself, Roy Mustang had done his best to ensure that a certain measure of fairness and caring remained in the world. So far his efforts had gone very well within his department. In fact, he was nearly the de-facto head of the department. The only time so far in which he had been overruled in his "suggestions" was when their own ineffectual, official department head, by the name of Raven, had told them to clear out the entire department for the night.
The anger Roy mustang felt over that pure-blood, inbred, bigoted, son of a gutter-whore was still raw; as evident by the smoldering that was becoming evident around the door knob Roy still held. Once he began to feel that his hand had become a little hot, Roy looked down pausing in puzzlement and jumped back, screaming in obvious pain.
"You really shouldn't space out like that, Roy," came the deep voice of Alex. "You've already melted three handles this month." The enormous man had the decency to look abashed at the look Roy shot him.
"I know, Alex, I know. I just cannot believe Raven is going to get away again." Roy's reply came in a huff as he blew small cooling breaths on his hand. Raven had easily come up with a plausible excuse to all the Ministry inquires. He had said he had been fumigating the department because some rather destructive pests had made themselves at home. This was perfectly true. The Department of Mysteries did have a minor pest problem, but nothing to warrant a full-blown fumigation. Obviously somebody must have greased that bastard's palms heavily. Instantly, that blond-haired bigot Malfoy came to mind but thankfully that fool was now where he rightly belonged.
Roy Mustang stood up straight, looking his tall friend in the eye.
"Well," said Roy, "Shall we go see if the alarm is for real this time around?"
Nodding their heads together, Roy reached out and opened the door into pure pandemonium. Everywhere. people in matching blue uniforms were running back and forth, checking and rechecking and crossing off locations from long lists they carried in hand. At the center of it all was a perfectly detailed model of the entire Isle of the United Kingdom of Great Britain.
As he drew near to the center of this storm of activity, he could see the map was lit up with a multitude of red dots indicating locations where magic was being performed. The Department of Mysteries worked hand in hand with several departments that were in charge of monitoring magic across the nation and this was the source of it all. No one was still sure how the object worked or even how it was made, but all that mattered on the majority of days was that it did.
Right at this moment, the constant flurry of red dots wasn't what drew Mustang's attention. It was the pulsating purple dot that occupied itself inside Scotland. Roy Mustang let out a huff of breath as he knew exactly where that dot had to be - Hogwarts. One of the drawbacks of the map was its tendency to misread what magic was being performed. The more magic that was concentrated in the area, the more likely a false reading happened. Unsurprisingly, Hogwarts was that perfect place and a constant source of irritation.
One of the main duties Roy found when he had first entered the department was to monitor the nation for instances of truly forbidden magics. Using the Unforgivables wasn't however, being monitored. Instead his department looked for the truly forbidden pieces of magic such as necromancy or actual voodoo rituals. Those could not be allowed to continue because those practices threatened the very fabric of magic itself. Mustang did not fully understand how those types of magic were a threat but he had read enough on the theories and observations to be convinced. This purple dot however was a total unknown. Since it was happening around Hogwarts, it could only be another glitch amongst the thousands of other such similar cases.
Looking around at the scene surrounding him and the continued panic in the eyes of every last one of his fellows. Roy wasn't so sure. Did they know something he didn't? Before he could truly take charge of the situation, the pulsating purple dot vanished.
Immediately he shouted the room for quiet. With a calmer face he asked, "Can anyone confirm that this is a real case?"
One of his junior monitoring-analysts, a mousy-haired, bespectacled woman by the name of Sheska, was practically jumping up and down on one foot to answer. "Oh Mr. Mustang, uh Roy...Um I mean, sir. We have confirmed that there was a source of forbidden magic at Hogwarts. We're just not really sure exactly what it is." Sheska trailed off toward the end squeaking like a mouse. Inwardly, Roy sighed. He knew she was a brilliant woman and wished she was just a little more confident.
Nodding politely in her direction, he said, "Thank you Sheska. Good work." Roy honestly hoped the woman wouldn't melt this time at his praise. "Do we have some kind of idea what kind of magic we are dealing with at least?"
Roy looked around the room. Not a single pair of eyes met his. All of the workers appeared to feel a tad ashamed at their apparent failure.
Suddenly Sheska spoke up again but with a little bit of the mousy squeak gone from her voice. "Um, Mr. Roy, sir, we think it might be Alchemy. But that shouldn't even be possible..." Again the woman had trailed off to little more than a whisper but this time it was because this had peaked her curiosity.
Roy Mustang couldn't help but agree with her. Alchemy was a newly burgeoning area of Magic when their map of Britain had been first created. Nobody had found a way to really modify it nor monitor that type of magic.
Nodding at the woman's input, Roy Mustang clapped his hands together. "Alright people, this is what is going to happen. I and Mr. Armstrong are going to investigate. I want the rest of you to research and double-check your findings. Relay to me anything you might find."
Turning and nodding to Alex Armstrong, Roy proceeded out a nearby doorway.
"So Roy," came the grumble of Alex. "Are you sure you really want to go there again? Roy Mustang chose not to respond to the question. But the man did have a very good question. Why would anyone return to a school they had been expelled from and humiliated by?
Harry Potter screamed. In the darkness, all Harry could do was scream, on and on. There was nothing in this dark void - no light, sound or matter. Matter? That was a strange word. Even as he screamed, Harry couldn't help but wonder if the word carried new meanings it had not before. Now the word meant the physical world he had been a part of not so long ago.
More words began to stream into Harry's mind. All of them new and frightening. Words he couldn't hope to ever recognize came from languages long since dead or still very much alive. Even as the relentless tide of words in Harry's mind sped up without stopping, concepts Harry had never heard of began to enter into his mind. Light, gravity, biology, physiology, psychology and more never halting, left Harry's head feeling like it was going to explode at the sudden inrush of new ideas.
It wasn't just the awareness of the existence of these new ideas of science that amazed Harry. It was also the fact that he realized exactly what they all were. There was also formulas and concepts of Magic he had never even dreamt of. Suddenly a new idea attached itself to an old word Harry had heard a long time ago when he was so much younger, Alchemy. The power to change existing physical matter into your desire with the use of specialized inscriptions.
Harry had finally given up screaming as the knowledge pored into his skull when he came to the understanding that what he had done was not Runology but Alchemy. What he had done was attempt to use Alchemy to bring back his dead godfather. The concept of Human transmutation was already there in Harry's mind but he found new ideas being attached to his knowledge. Ideas he could not stomach.
Soon everything rushing into Harry's mind began to blur and make his entire body burn. He began to scream again, this time with a mindless howl of agony to make it stop.
"It's too much," he cried. Everything was entering Harry's mind; every possible outcome to every single event in history past, present or future. Still it came, never stopping and never slowing down.
Suddenly in that black void, light appeared to Harry's eyes. In front of him, a shadow of a human being was silhouetted against a background of pure light. Harry knew it had to be Sirius. There was no other answer that it could be. Harry struggled against the binding of the tendrils of darkness. He reached forward, trying his hardest to reach out and grasp Sirius.
Suddenly he was in front of that thing again and no longer surrounded by the void.
"Sirius!" yelled Harry Potter. Turning around on his heels, Harry spun around searching everywhere in that great white expanse for the shaggy form of his godfather. Rounding on that outlined thing that called itself Truth, Harry tried to grab it by its almost nonexistent shoulders.
His hands passed through it and the thing seemed to smile, as if in mockery to Harry's attempt to lay his hands on it. That mocking smile only inflamed Harry's anger and he screamed at Truth. It was a wordless howl of rage and denial. Harry denied what the thing showed him. He denied it but a part of him knew what he had seen was THE truth.
The only truth that possibly mattered. To obtain anything of value, something of equal value must be exchanged in return. That was a rule Harry Potter knew but, in all his arrogance, had ignored.
A crushing weight of inevitability seemed to sink into Harry Potter's very bones. Slowly, he dropped down to his knees with his head hanging in defeat.
"I just want him back," said Harry as he tried to choke back tears.
"What is the price of a single human soul?" The question came in a low growl. Harry looked up, his cheeks still wet with tears, and saw the outlined face of Truth. At first, Harry would have thought he saw anger in that thing's face but, since it technically did not have a face. he really couldn't say.
"I don't know," whispered Harry.
Truth grinned at Harry's answer, revealing rows of giant teeth. "For the insignificant price you paid, human, I cannot tell you."
Before Harry could even ask what price, he felt his arms beginning to burn.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was tired. During his first conflict with Tom Riddle, he would have felt his age every other week, maybe even every three weeks. Now with his hand withered beyond all hope of recovery and his life having a set date to that final journey, he was beat.
As Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair in the ancestral office of the Hogwarts Headmasters, his joints ached relentlessly. There was a horrendous pounding behind his skull and he very much could use a nice cup of tea. Unfortunately he was truly too weary to even wave his wand and conjure a nice cup of his favorite lemon tea from the kitchens. He couldn't even muster the energy to call for one of the Hogwarts house elves to come bring him one.
The Headmaster could already feel his eyes beginning to turn to lead as they begged to be allowed rest. He was almost ready to bow to their incessant demands when he heard a slight ringing in his ears. It was a lovely ringing, his foggy mind remarked. Then with the ringing came the powerful note of a gong and Dumbledore was completely startled into wakefulness.
Everywhere across the wards placed throughout the castle's ramparts and grand halls, there were great fits of alarm. Instantly, the man who had faced Gellert Grindelwald on the flaming streets of Berlin as the Russians shot and burned civilian and soldier alike, stood tall in office of the headmasters. With a single flick of the well-won Elder Wand, Dumbledore's voice magnified one-thousand-fold, echoing throughout the halls of his precious school.
"All students are to return to their dormitories and all heads of houses and prefects are to remain there. The rest of the faculty are to convene in the Grand Hall." Another flick of his wand and Albus's voice returned to its normal grandfatherly quality. With a single motion of his hand, his ever faithful companion Fawkes perched himself on Albus's shoulder. In a flash of flames, Albus found himself at the very doors of the school.
Briefly, Dumbledore glanced across the vast swath of land before the front gates of Hogwarts and he saw no invading force threatening the schools safety. After a savage flick of his wand and the thousands upon tens of thousands of wards, glyphs, and outright spell land mines activated. Spinning about on his heels, Dumbledore eyed his school and waving his wand, every wind shutter across the school shut themselves with an audible SNAP. One-by-one they closed and solidified themselves to stone, each as powerful and hard to penetrate as the very walls of this place of learning.
Again Dumbledore disappeared in a flash of crimson flame and found himself at the entrance to the great feast hall. Briefly, he waved his wand above his head, disillusioning himself beyond all eyes alive or dead. There he sat, crouching, waiting for his faculty and those who must have penetrated his school's defenses to come rushing his way.
If the goal of whoever had set off the schools alarms had been to eliminate either himself or the faculty members, they would not be able to help themselves. First in singles and then by pairs, the esteemed members of the school's faculty came running into the Great Hall. Each person Dumbledore scanned with passive Legilimency to see if any may have been placed under the Imperius curse. None showed any of the signs of being lulled into doing as they were told.
Only after the galumphing hooves of Firenze finally entered in the confines of the Hogwarts dining room with no sign of mental tampering did Dumbledore finally undue his disillusionment and entered the Hall.
"Dumbledore," wheezed the heavily sweating form of Slughorn, "What in the blazes is the problem?" It appeared the rotund professor had come running all the way from the very bowels of the schools dungeons.
Electing to ignore the balding man's questions, Dumbledore turned his half-moon bespectacled gaze on the rest of his faculty. "The rest of you can feel it too, can't you?"
Minus the recent addition of Slughorn- the faculty nodded as one. Every single professor of Hogwarts was expected upon taking their position to defend their school and the children with their very lives. That entailed being tied into nearly every ward and alarm that the headmaster himself was bound too.
"Good. I want each of you to pair up and sweep the school and then sweep the houses for anything out of the ordinary. The Ministry Aurors are no doubt already combing the outer boundaries." At his word, each teacher paired up together and left the Great Hall, their wands at the ready.
"What about you Professor?" came the heavily accented words of Hagrid. Looking up into the giant mans' bushy black beard, Dumbledore could only smile.
"Me, my good friend? I shall be in the Shadows." Without a single flick of his wand, Dumbledore disappeared in a flash of bright flame.
Already Dumbledore was tracing along the wards, looking for the source of the continuous alarms. So far, the entire disturbance seemed to be localized in the left wing of the castle. The only thing there were plenty of classrooms that hadn't seen a student since Albus became Headmaster.
Beyond that, Dumbledore could not localize the disturbance any further. There was simply too much interference from other magical sources, not to mention the wards he was using were just never meant for what he was doing. They were never meant to help locate intruders, only to inform of them. That was a serious flaw in the design Dumbledore couldn't correct with only the resources he had at hand.
Instantly, with Fawkes's crimson flames surrounding him, Dumbledore appeared in the left wing of Hogwarts. Quickly ,with his wand drawn and his eyes on the lookout for any hostility, Dumbledore began his own sweep of the school. Without stopping, Dumbledore checked a dozen different rooms. From cleaning storage to drafty classrooms, he found nothing. Then the smell hit him.
It was the smell of blood - the scarlet stench of copper. It lacked the overtone of burning human flesh that Dumbledore associated it with since the last days of Grindelwald's war. With a greater sense of caution, Dumbledore continued forward, more weary than he ever been since Tom Riddles return.
Slowly, he passed by three open doors, checking each of their rooms for the tell-tale glow of crimson. Then he passed by a closed door. Dumbledore could feel his heartbeat picking up before settling to a natural rhythm. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed open the door. Suddenly, the smell of blood washed over him.
Accompanying the smell of blood, Dumbledore heard the light sound of laughter and a dark, evil gurgling as if it was blood bubbling in the throat of the dying. Dumbledore warily entered the room and he noticed a curled-up form dressed clearly in disheveled Hogwarts robes. Instantly he recognized that pained laughter for who it was.
"Harry," came the shocked whisper of Dumbledore.
While in fetal position, Harry slightly rocked back and forth. "I did it. I brought him back. I did it. I brought him back. I did it. I brought him back. I did it. I brought him back. I did it. I brought him back. I did it. I brought him back." Over and over again Harry kept repeating himself.
Running forward, Dumbledore nearly reached the curled-up form of Harry Potter until the sick, liquid, gurgling sound intensified.
Dumbledore couldn't help himself as he looked up. He wished he hadn't. Before him, as traces of smoke cleared, two piercing crimson eyes stared back at him. They came from a face that was beyond human.
Please don't forget to leave a review.
If you didn't like it say so and why. If you loved it, then all the better. Let me know what you felt I could have done better.
Updated 2/24/2014.
Beta by a wonderful person of the name spectaculaire