The day before...
Of the two men in front of her, Amelia Bones could not decide which one she was more disappointed in.
Francis Cindersnatch, a twenty-five year decorated Auror, had been the one in charge of the raid on the Department of Mysteries that very same day. Said raid had been put together after an alarm in the Hall of Prophecies had gone off and alerted the Unspeakables to a breach in their department.
Madame Bones hadn't believed it when she'd been informed. To break into the Ministry of Magic was supposed to be difficult to the point of unachievable. To break into the Department of Mysteries was supposed to be simply impossible and yet, someone—and not just someone, a group of someones—had managed to do it.
She had reacted immediately and sent a squad of thirty men and women down to the Department of Mysteries to take care of the situation, thinking that under these unforeseen circumstances, she could not be faulted for erring on the side of caution. At least, that is what Amelia had been led to believe when first told what had happened, which had been two hours ago whilst the intruders had still been in the building.
She took her wand in hand and lightly tapped it against the palm of her hand. A tingle went up her arm. For a moment, it distracted her from her thoughts. A glance from underneath her eyelashes at the two wizards standing stock-still on the other side of her desk and her thoughts came crashing back.
These two men were not the only the highest authority to be found in the task force sent to the Department of Mysteries, they were also the only two who had not required a trip to the oncall medical station to be revived or treated for injuries. Amelia knew Francis Cindersnatch, they had started at the Auror Academy together and she knew what a talented wizard he was which was why she had trusted him in leading the twenty Auror force. Twenty-one Aurors went into the Department of Mysteries and only one of them could stand before her.
The second man in front of her was an Unspeakable, the Head of his sector at the Department of Mysteries—of which she was still unauthorized access to—and one of the unfortunate Ministry workers that had been on the other side of the raid. She had no knowledge of how long this particular Unspeakable had been under Ministry employment and knew next to nothing about the man himself; including what he actually looked like as it was one of the requirements of the job.
Luckily for the Ministry of Magic as a whole, no one had suffered any injuries that couldn't be fixed with a few standard spells so there had been no reason to alert St. Mungo's on the situation, it would have undoubtedly gotten back to the press somehow and then Amelia would have been forced to deal with a whole new issue at hand.
"This is the Ministry of Magic," she began cooly. "This building represents the foundation of magical law and we are the ones charged with upholding it. We are the ones in charge of making sure that all of our citizens feel safe as they step out of their homes because they have the knowledge that nothing will happen to them as long as we are on the lookout. It is bad enough that every year less and less candidates show up for Auror training but now you are telling me that we can't even handle a simple break in to one of our departments? That such a feat was even possible is outrageous, but to expect me to accept that our team of Aurors and Unspeakables couldn't even apprehend those criminals?"
She had slowly been rising from her chair, hands flat on her desk as she leaned over forward and levelled the two men with her iciest of glares. Auror Cindersnatch had the decency to shift uncomfortably on his feet whereas the Unspeakable calmly returned her stare. Her wand was gripped tightly in hand and shot off sparks the more agitated she became.
"Explain to me again how of the twenty-one Aurors and… How many Unspeakables?"
"I am not at liberty to say, madam," said the Unspeakable.
"How could me knowing the number of Unspeakables who participated in this matter possibly harm your department's secrecy?" demanded a bewildered Madame Bones.
"Respectfully, Madame Bones, I don't know. I'm simply following orders from my superiors," the Unspeakable shrugged his shoulders.
"I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she said.
"I understand, madam, and I apologize for this inconvenience but I must still deny you the information."
Madame Bones pursed her lips like she had just bit into a lemon but did not push the matter further.
"Very well, then. Tell me how these wizards got away."
"I had divided the task force into two groups, madame. I believed that with twelve witches and wizards it would be more than enough to contain the threat in the Hall of Prophecies." Auror Cindersnatch averted his eyes from Madame Bones and confessed, "It was the wrong call. The intruders got lucky and managed to evade and defeat the task force. We then believed we had them trapped after they fell through one of the Thief's Holes. We surrounded them with the rest of the task force, including an unmentionable number of Unspeakables, but there was an explosion and they escaped."
Years of political maneuvering had left Madame Bones with the ability to train her expressions into whichever one she desired. She listened to Auror Cindersnatch's tale with a neutral look on her face; only a minute tremble of her fingers gave away the anger bubbling underneath the surface of her skin.
"What was their goal?" asked Madame Bones. "Why did they want access to the Hall of Prophecies?"
Auror Cindersnatch shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head in the Unspeakable's direction. Madame Bones's eyes shifted to him.
"They were after a prophecy, madam," the Unspeakable told her slowly, savouring the words on his tongue as though to check they were the right ones.
"And?" demanded Madame Bones. "Did they take it or not?"
"As far as we can tell, it was the removal of the prophecy from its shelving unit which alerted our department to the breach. Although it is possible that the prophecy was destroyed in the struggle, we cannot know for sure and as of yet, we have not been able to find it." The Unspeakable drew strength from within and said, "It is our belief that they escaped with it in their possession."
"How long will it take you to identify exactly what was stolen?"
"Despite our best efforts, a significant number of prophecies were destroyed as we—"
"How. Long."
The Unspeakable swallowed uncomfortably. "Months, Madame Bones, if not a year."
"I see."
Madame Bones sunk down into her chair with calculated movements. She spread her hands on her desk, one of them resting on her wand, and remained silent for minutes.
Without warning, her head snapped up from where it had been hanging between her arms. She straightened her posture, narrowed her eyes at the two men and dared them to contradict her with her gaze.
"This is what we are going to do," she began. "Only our two departments are aware this even happened and we are going to keep it that way. No talking to any friends, family, coworkers and especially not the press. The Unspeakables have made a profession out of keeping secrets, I'm sure one more won't be a problem, will it?"
"No, madam," the Unspeakable responded.
"Good. Auror Cindersnatch, can you confirm that at no point in time were civilians or employees in any danger of being harmed?"
"I-I suppose so, madam," stammered the Auror, "but there is no way of knowing that for sure—"
"As I understand it, we wouldn't even have known about the break in if the thieves hadn't been successful in retrieving their prophecy in the first place. In fact, had the Department of Mysteries not chosen to alert us, our department would have been none the wiser." Although Madame Bones had said her piece with a straight face, she couldn't control the slight flaring of her nostrils and the red on her cheeks which showed just how unhappy she was at the thought.
"This matter will remain between our two departments until such a time as the Unspeakables can tell with certainty exactly which prophecy was stolen and whether its disappearance poses a threat to our people." She bobbed her head to bring the point home and pulled out some papers out of her desk drawer. "Mr Unspeakable, if you so require it, I will have repairmen sent down to you to aid in the reconstruction of your department."
"I thank you for your offer, madam, but I must decline."
Madame Bones huffed under her breath and shook her head.
"If you must, then you must. You are dismissed, gentlemen."
Madame Bones proceeded to put on her reading glasses, dip a feathered quill in blue ink and turn her attention to the pile of documents on her desk. The men took that as their queue and let themselves out.
As the click of the door reached her ears, the last of her strength left Madame Bones and she sagged onto her desk. She brought fingers up to massage her scalp and felt the pangs of an oncoming headache announcing themselves right on schedule. She toed off her heels, pulled out the pins from her hair and allowed herself a moment to drop the air of Madame Bones to just be Amelia.
As Amelia, she could finally lay her political obligations aside and really think about the latest crisis knocking on her door. It could not have arrived at a worse time. Preparations to host the Quidditch World Cup were well underway, it was a tremendous opportunity for magical Great Britain in all ways imaginable and it was up to her and committee of three other people to make sure everything went smoothly on the day.
Amelia entertained the thought that the break in could have been an attempt to sabotage the World Cup but quickly dismissed it before it could become anything more than idle thought. As it was, the crisis in the Department of Mysteries had been devastating in terms of security, but it had also been easily swept under the rug. If someone had wanted to sabotage the World Cup before it began, they could have easily chosen a more public venue which would no doubt have garnered the publicity they wanted.
The targeting of the Hall of Prophecies was too specific, Amelia decided. These thieves had a purpose in what they were doing, they carefully planned their mission and risked their lives and freedom to get what they were after and in the end, they were successful. They had known when to strike, where to go and how to escape.
All for a prophecy.
The chair swivelled in place and pointed Amelia to the wall where a moving picture drew her eyes. It was the first page of the Daily Prophet from November 1st 1981 placed inside an oak frame and protected from age and decay.
WAR IS OVER
YOU KNOW WHO DEFEATED BY HARRY POTTER!
Underneath the large, boxy announcement was a moving photograph of Diagon Alley, streets overflowing with wizards out in the middle of the day for the first time in years, smiles wider and hearts lighter than they had been in a very long time. It was a day of celebration nationwide and it stayed that way in the years that followed.
Amelia was still staring at the newspaper clipping when it came to her: the Hall of Prophecies, the Great War, Harry Potter. It all came together in her head and she remembered the first time she heard of the Hall of Prophecies.
It had been nothing more than a rumour, a fantasy in desperate times amidst the height of war when she felt like she would latch onto anything, even the smallest, most ridiculous rumour if it meant that they could have something to fight for. Rumours of a prophecy which foretold a way to defeat You Know Who. And if it explained how to get rid of him then maybe…
Amelia shuddered. She stopped that train of thought right where it was and called it back to the station. She didn't know which prophecy had been stolen—no one knew. Yet. She wouldn't waste her day spinning ridiculous theories in her head.
"That's the last thing you need, Amelia. It's not enough you have dozens of people whispering the worst behind your back, now you have to do it to yourself, too," she whispered. "Enough is enough."
Madame Bones dipped her long dried quill in some ink and got to work.
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Ducking behind an open window pane, the large man watched as a gangly youth navigated the streets of Hogsmeade. The wizard tripped on the uneven cobblestones and landed on hands and knees. As he cursed his misfortune he took out a wand and did away with the rough skin on the heels of his palms and the dirt clinging to his pants.
Mad-Eye Moody grinned. Bingo.
It was a chilly day. Mist hung over the streets of the village, a dewy, white veil that possessed no apparent weight yet dripped heavily off the shoulders of women and weighed down the feet of men. The fog parted and curled around Moody as he limped a path towards the young wizard already on his feet and walking away. One of ex-Auror's eyes remained fixed on the boy as the other whirled around in its socket and scanned its surroundings, pausing in seemingly random places only to whirl back in place and begin its inspection anew.
As the youth strode over to the door of a pub and greeted a man out front with obvious familiarity, the ex-Aruror following him paused. The interaction took him aback for a moment, made him doubt the real identity of the wizard. His instincts told him to turn around and leave this as yet another failed endeavour but his pride wouldn't let him give up just yet.
Not two nights ago, Moody had gone on an expedition and had visited the Dursley home. He'd figured that if anyone knew why or where Harry Potter had escaped to, it would be the family he'd spent living with most of his life. Imagine his shock upon finding out, not three minutes after stepping foot inside the house, just what type of people the Dursleys actually were. They had taken one look at his clothes, his face and the wand poking out of his jacket and had slammed the door on his face, yelling threats out the window and shifting locks in place.
Being the type of man that he was rumoured to be, Moody had been sorely tempted to raise his wand and hex the rotund walrus and his horse-faced wife six ways till Sunday. It had taken every ounce of his self control not to do that and instead he opted for a less scandalous route (though no less horrifying to Petunia Dursley) and on his way down the path he'd shot four discrete spells at the perfectly normal looking house on Privet Drive.
The first to make the plants wilt and die. The second to make the paint on the house chip and blow to dust in the wind. The third to rust the metal and blow out the tires on Mr Dursley's prized automobile, and the fourth was an Attraction Charm for rats, ants and bats which would turn Number 4 Privet Drive into an irresistible stop along the animals' way.
He had left the house in a decidedly better mood than when he'd arrived.
Moody sped up and followed the wizard into the pub. He scanned the the inside and was pleased to note that apart from himself and another man lying face down on a table there were only four more people, including the bartender.
The place was nothing like the Three Broomsticks, Moody reflected as he sank down on a barstool and ordered a Firewhisky. The bar was painted in dark colours—blacks, greys, browns and dark green; it was clearly not designed for the comfort of the Hogwarts students that visited once or twice a year. Frames were mounted on the walls, of newspaper clippings, the few celebrities that had visited the bar in its prime and interesting factoids meant to stop a customer in his path to read the funny anecdote.
The bartender slapped the glass on the chipped counter and left without a word. Moody huffed, drowned the shot, and fished out a sickle from his pocket, placing it on the counter. It was swallowed up by the wood and disappeared.
Behind the bar was a wall of glass decorated with bottles of all liquors and though the image was murky, Moody distinguished the blonde hair and navy coat of the wizard he was following. The young wizard was seated at a high table with another man. They nursed their beers and talked in low tones as they hunched over the flickering candle in the centre of their table.
Moody flagged the bartender for another Firewhiskey and settled in for the wait.
"Ne'er seen the likes of you round 'ere before," grumbled the bartender, one bushy eyebrow raised higher than the other. "You new?"
"Just passing by," said Moody.
"Through these parts?" The bartender scoffed. "Nothin' 'ere to see for miles, don't know what you're on about."
A flash of blonde in the mirror and Moody's magical eye twisted in its socket to look through his head. The wizard Moody was after had left his seat and was walking to the end of the pub where a swinging door hid the entrance to the bathroom. Moody slipped out a coin and left to chase after the wizard. He pulled his hood down tighter as he passed by the wizard's companion still seated at the table but never slowed down his gait.
The door didn't make a sound as Moody shut it behind him. A Detection Spell confirmed the presence of only two people in the bathroom and a second spell ensured they wouldn't be disturbed.
Dragonhide shoes stuck out from the farthest stall on the right. Moody marched up to the door and kicked it in with a force that contradicted his age. The terrified look on the young wizard's face didn't stop him from taking him by the neck of his coat and dragging him out. Moody lifted him with a grunt and had him pinned up against the bathroom mirror.
"Now listen 'ere, chap. We've got tons to talk about you an' me," Moody growled. "But first, let me show you what I like to do to lowlife traffickers like you."
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Moody stormed into his home. His talk with the young wizard had taught him nothing new; in fact it had been a complete and utter bust in every sense of the word. That had been Moody's last lead, he'd have to start over again if he wanted to have any answers for the Romanians when they come by asking for their missing dragon eggs.
To add insult to injury, it had taken him almost twice as long as usual to disarm all the protective charms, wards and hexes surrounding his property. He had had to hastily duck down when he triggered a hex which had been engineered to shoot jets of Bloodroot Potion at the intruder. In ducking to avoid the poisonous brew, he'd fallen into another trap and the ropes that had shot out from the ground had been a hair's breadth away from wrapping around his neck before he'd pulled out his Auror training and cancelled the spell.
Moody spat out a long and winding string of colourful expletives when his wooden leg got caught on a hole in the floor. He careened on the spot then yanked out his wand and sent a weak Blasting Curse which blew a larger hole in the ground and set his leg free.
"As if I didn't have enough with all the bloody wankers out there trying to do me in, now I have to worry about my own damn house joining the club! Bloody ridiculous," he muttered.
He threw his coat on a nearby table and settled down on his only armchair, placed at an angle which kept the front door, window, and stairs leading to the second floor within perfect eyesight.
Constant vigilance.
Soon he had a glass in hand of his allotted three fingers of whiskey and was prepared to settle in for a night of drinking and listening to the wireless when a blur of white dropped from the ceiling and landed by his feet. The Patronus swirled into shape and the ex-Auror was left staring into the milky eyes of a phoenix.
"This better be good, Albus," Moody grumbled.
The Patronus regarded him with unblinking eyes. It tilted its head to the side, parted its beak and spoke.
"Alastor," it said in Dumbledore's echoing voice, "I have important news to share with you, so listen well. Rumours of your quest to find Harry have reached undesirable ears. I fear that others now know that he is no longer under our protection and seek to find the boy through you." Alastor wanted to scoff at the idea of anyone being able to find him, never mind following him that easily, but held his tongue. "I know what you're likely thinking but we simply cannot risk anyone else finding Harry before he gets to Hogwarts.
"I ask that you stop looking for him. If you haven't been able to find him until now, then perhaps he is as safe as he could be. It would be a mistake to call attention to his whereabouts were you to locate him. At Hogwarts he will have the best security in the world and as much as you would argue otherwise, that means you, old friend."
With that said, the snowy white phoenix shook its head from side to side and fluffed its wings to take flight. It imparted one last message before gracefully taking to the air and gliding through the wall.
"Take care, Alastor."
Moody shook his head at the Hogwarts headmaster. He sometimes could not fathom how the wizard managed to stay in the lead of everything happening in the world when he had his fingers stuck in too many pies to count as it were. He dreaded the day that it would all catch up to him because, in his eyes, it was bound to happen at some point and he was not sure if he wanted to be around to witness repercussions of such enormous proportions.
He was dropping his glass on the coffee table when he glimpsed something out of the corner of his magical eyep—a blur, a shadow or maybe both. As it was, he didn't let on that he had noticed anything amiss and settled back in his chair with some careful maneuvering.
Moody was focused on one side of the room so he barely caught the purplish hue of the curse which whizzed at him from the other side and hit him close to his heart. He became groggy instantly. His limbs weighed down on him like wet rags, his bones softened to pudding and his eyelids drooped low over his eyes. Not possessing the ability to hold him up any longer, his body gave up on him and crumbled off the armchair straight to the ground.
He landed on his side and was able to make out the worn heels of two black boots step up to his prone form. Coloured dots were taking over his vision but that didn't stop him from noticing the sheet of liquid silver that pooled down at the intruder's feet.
An Invisibility Cloak, Moody berated himself. I should've realized the wards weren't acting up for a reason.
"That was disappointing, at least for me it was. Was it disappointing for you, too? I was expecting more of a fight coming from you, Mad-Eye. You sure had some neat tricks up your sleeve the last time we got together like this, but maybe that's my mind playing tricks on me again. I'm told it can do that to you after a couple of years in lockup."
Knees bent, arms folded on top of bony legs and face so close it was brushing against his own, Moody could not believe the wizard standing over him.
"You should check security at Azkaban more often," Barty Crouch Junior mused in dulcet tones, "seems like everyone is getting out these days, wouldn't you say?"
Moody heard the beginnings of his rusty, cold laugh before the curse overcame him.
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"I've been thinking about something for a while now," said Harry, eyes dangerously close to watering as he kept direct contact with his teacher.
"Yes, I've been getting that feeling from you lately," teased Alice, her mouth pulled down in a frown as she squinted her eyes and kept her wand pointed at Harry's forehead.
"Only lately?"
Alice laughed and her wand slipped down an inch but she righted it before it could cost her too much.
"What was that? Felt like a slip up to me," said Harry.
"You wish," Alice retorted, though her strength was slowly abandoning her. Her arm was shaking with the effort it took to stay in the air.
They kept at it for ten minutes further, neither one willing to be the one to give in to the other. It was nearing the thirty-five minute mark when Alice gave a warning call and dropped her arm to her side, her chest heaving. Harry was collapsed on the couch and experiencing similar problems with his breathing.
"That was very good, Harry," said Alice. "I've never had one of my students last so long under a Legilimency attack before."
"I didn't think I would last that long," Harry admitted.
"You only surprised yourself then. I knew you had it in you. I suspect it's only a matter of time before you'll be needing a new teacher to keep up with you." A swell of pride bubbled up in Alice and burst out in a smile. "What is it you've been thinking about? You've been so focused on keeping those thoughts to yourself that you've let other things slip."
"What? When? Why didn't you tell me?" Harry demanded.
"It was nothing big, Harry," Alice assured him, "just some snippets of random scenes and things like that. I think it might have been a dream you had. All I could make out were two people flying on brooms, I think one of them might have been you and the other was a girl with long hair."
Harry blanched. "And?" he asked.
"And nothing. That was the only thing I could see." Alice waited a moment before adding, with a poorly concealed smirk on her lips, "Why? Was there something else?"
"No," Harry answered quickly. He cleared his throat and added, "You're right, it was just a dream and that's it. There wasn't anything… That's all it was, I mean I'd never had it before and...it was a surprise, it's not like I planned for it to happen..."
Alice wisely chose not to say anything to the flurry of words coming out of Harry's mouth. She averted her eyes to give the boy a moment to compose himself as she went through the task of summoning a set of tea and snacks.
By the time she'd finished pouring both cups Harry had gotten a hold of himself. They drank their tea in silence until both cups were half empty and Alice turned back to their conversation.
"You wanted to share something with me," she prompted him.
Harry nodded. "Hogwarts starts in a couple of weeks," he said. "We won't be able to continue these classes once I'm there."
A boulder dropped into Alice's stomach. She had avoided thinking about their fast approaching goodbye to the point that she refused to answer any of her job offers and hardly ever made plans more than two days in advance.
"You've been an excellent teacher to me. I don't think I would've come this far if it had been anyone else but you." Harry paused. "You probably have other things to do, other people to teach, but I'd like you to consider teaching Sirius and Remus Occlumency while I'm at Hogwarts."
It took a moment for Alice to absorb what Harry had said. In the meantime, Harry kept talking.
"We'd pay you well," he insisted. "I talked to both of them and they agree that it's asking a lot of you if you've already accepted another job. If you have then we completely understand if you want to say no, but it doesn't have to be a full time thing either. We could…"
Even though Alice had stopped listening, she let Harry continue with his well rehearsed speech as she puzzled over the situation in her mind. It had gone in the complete opposite direction to what she'd been expecting. She hadn't counted on this outcome and had no plan in place, nothing.
"I'll take it," she said. Her statement had caught Harry in the midst of one of his own, causing his tongue to trip over itself.
"You're sure?" he asked. "You don't have to answer right away, we still have some time before classes begin. I wouldn't want you to feel like...like you're obligated to say yes."
"I don't feel obligated to anything, Harry," Alice said. "I'm a grown woman, I know what I want and I know a good deal when I see one."
"But-but there in no deal yet," sputtered Harry. "How can you be sure this one is better than all the others?"
Alice laughed. "Your godfather is the heir to the Black family fortune and he's an escaped felon hiding from society which severely limits his options for teachers. Not to mention Remus' lycanthropy would also narrow your search even more and I believe in that small intersection between the two, I'm the only option you have left. Trust me, Harry, I'll get a good deal."
Harry chuckled and matched her smile with his own grin. He liked Alice, she was one of the best teachers he'd ever had and over the summer she'd become a staple in his life in a time when everything else was drastically changing. He hadn't wanted to part ways with her and had been relieved when Sirius and Remus had taken so readily to his Occlumency suggestion. Though he'd had a plan in place, he hadn't expected Alice to take to it so readily.
"You're staying?" He'd meant for it to be a statement of fact but instead it came out more like a hopeful question than anything else.
"I'm staying," she confirmed.