Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]
Shards of Time: The Master of Death
Chapter IX
The Informant
"All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible." - T.E. Lawrence
Harry stared in surprise at the sight before him. He'd expect to have to face one of the dangerous creatures that inhabited the Forbidden Forest, perhaps even Voldemort himself. But this? While this was still a dangerous situation that he was in, at least it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
Harry slowly lowered his wand but didn't release his firm grip on it. Standing regally in front of him was an elder centaur, who Harry immediately recognized as Magorian, the leader of the centaurs. He had to be three meters tall, far more than twice Harry's height! All around him the faces of other centaur peeked out from the foliage. They were there, watching, but kept their distance from him, almost as if they were wary.
What really caught Harry's attention however was Bane, who was standing off to the side. Harry gulped slightly at the stormy expression on the black-haired centaur's face. Alright, this may not be as bad as facing Voldemort, but it definitely was still a serious situation.
"It is dangerous to be wandering around the Forest this late at night, Harry Potter," Magorian said. Harry tore his gaze away from Bane to look at the speaker. He was staring down at Harry with dark, expressionless eyes.
"I-I know, sir," Harry squeaked. He then cursed himself and took a moment to compose himself. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Forgive me for trespassing on you lands."
The elder centaur's eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline, showing his surprise at the respect. Other centaurs mirrored his expression and several began whispering amongst themselves until others shushed them.
"You should be sorry!" Bane snarled while stepping forward. "What are you, a wizard, doing here?" Instantly Magorian whiled on him, teeth bared in anger.
"You overstep your place!" he warned harshly.
Bane spluttered anger. "We should allow no wizards onto our lands—!"
"We don't, but we have an agreement with the headmasters," Magorian interrupted coldly.
"There is a rule against going into the Forest," Harry piped up.
Both Bane and Magorian swung their gazes back to Harry. "Then what are you doing here?" Bane demanded.
Unconsciously, Harry's eyes flickered back to the clearing. "I'm afraid that the wards have been a bit...restricting," he said brightly, internally hoping that he was making the right choice by telling them. "Had I had a way to contact you, however, I would have asked for your permission for entrance first. I understand that this forest encompasses your ancestral grounds."
Both Bane and Magorian looked surprised by this declaration, though Bane's look quickly turned into one of fury. "You dare mock us?" the centaur roared, rearing up on his hind legs.
Shocked, Harry took several stumbling steps backwards. But before Bane could attack, Magorian was suddenly between the two of them. He sent a powerful kick at Bane's chest, causing the younger centaur to fall backwards with a bellow. Magorian stood over him, asserting his power, while Bane scrambled backwards. Bane sent a heavily malice-laced glare at Harry before turning around and running off into the Forest.
Once the younger centaur was out of sight Magorian turned back around to face Harry. Silently he studied the boy for several minutes before giving him an almost imperceptible nod.
"The stars speak of you," Magorian finally said in a strong voice. His eyes shifted to the clearing and then back to Harry. "Go. But do not disturb the Forest. There are things that reside here that you should not yet meet." Harry was fairly sure that he'd be able to handle anything that the Forest threw at him, but for some unknown reason the centaur's words sent a shiver down his spine.
Without another word Magorian turned around and bounded off into the trees. After a few rustles of leaves the other centaurs were gone as well.
With a sigh Harry turned around and stepped into the clearing. At least the centaurs hadn't been spouting out cryptic riddles this time. Well, except perhaps for that last statement.
Harry spoke briefly with Xiuhcoatl and they both agreed that it'd be best for the snake to stay behind. He would wait on the edge of the clearing until Harry returned, at which point they would return to the edge of the Forest together.
Harry seared the image of the clearing into his mind for when he returned and then Disapparated with a quiet pop.
Only a few minutes later found Harry entering Ragnok's office on the top floor of Gringotts. As the doors closed solidly behind him, Ragnok glanced up. Upon seeing Harry his face split into a wide grin, revealing rows of pointed teeth.
"Lord Peverell-Black-Potter," he greeted as he stood.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the difference in Ragnok's attitude from the last time he'd been there, but didn't comment on it. He reached over the desk and firmly shook the goblin's hand.
"King Ragnok," he replied.
Ragnok's grin widened further. "Please, have a seat."
Harry smiled dryly and conjured a chair. Once he was seated Ragnok spoke up again while leaning eagerly over his desk.
"Do you have it?" he all but demanded.
Harry considered asking Ragnok what he meant, but then decided against antagonizing the goblin. Instead, he pulled out Gryffindor's sword from his pocket, unshrunk it, and laid it on the desk in front of Ragnok. Instantly the goblin king began to look it over, studying its minute details. Once he was satisfied that it was of goblin-make, and thus the real Gryffindor sword, he sat back and smiled.
"Well then," Ragnok began. "It seems that you've fulfilled your part of the deal. As for our part..."
"Oh, yes," Harry said, remembering the vanishing cabinet. "Kretcher!"
With a crack the house-elf appeared with the cabinet. He bowed to Harry and then disappeared again without a word.
Harry stayed seated but gestured at the cabinet. "This is the vanishing cabinet that I mentioned. You'll be able to take care of it...?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Ragnok murmured, his eyes scanning over the piece of furniture. "Our curse breakers should be able to fix it up in just a few days." Abruptly his eyes snapped back to Harry. "Which reminds me... I have, ah, come into possession something that I believe may interest you. It should help to solve your, ah, dilemma with attending the Wizengamot."
Harry's eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing that that Ragnok was referring to how he needed to attend the Wizengamot as two different people. "Go on," he prompted, curiosity getting the better of him.
Ragnok smirked widely. He then set on his desk an object that made Harry gasp in shock: a Time-Turner.
"How did you—?"
Ragnok grinned deviously. "We all have our sources for getting things," he replied.
Harry fell silent and gazed on the Time-Turner for several minutes. This...could solve all of his problems. Or at least his current pressing ones. He could attend the Wizengamot as both Lord Potter and as Lord Peverell-Black without anyone getting suspicious. And if anything occurred out of Hogwarts that took up too much of his time, he could just go back in time. It was perfect!
At the same time however, Harry was wary. Time-Turners were held under close guard in the Ministry and thus when found on the black market were extremely expensive, even by Harry's monetary standards. It'd probably be cheaper to buy an entire estate than a Time-Turner. So what did Ragnok want in return then? Surely not gold; he already had more than enough of that. But what else did Harry have that he could want?
"And in return...?" Harry ventured, voicing his concerns.
"All of the goblin-made armor and weapons in the Potter and Black vaults."
Harry blanched, though a snarky voice in the back of his head asked him why he was so surprised. It wasn't that he wanted the armor and weapons or anything, but rather that he knew that all of those items were worth quite a bit more than what it would cost to buy a Time-Turner.
Still, he thought as he studied Ragnok smirking face, that didn't matter. Ragnok wanted the items not for their monetary value but rather their "sentimental" value. Nothing short of all the weapons and armor would make him separate from that Time-Turner. Hell, he was probably hesitant to do so anyway. There was no way that Harry could bargain with the goblin king on this one. He needed that Time-Turner too much, and Ragnok knew it.
"Fine," Harry said finally. "But I have just one question... Why don't you want the things in the Peverell vault?"
Ragnok grimaced at that. "In order to separate the goblin-made items from the human-made items some goblins will personally have to go into the vaults," he admitted. "They cannot, however, enter the Peverell vault, which means that it's untouchable."
Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "Well, if I see anything that you might like in the vault, I'll let you know," he joked.
Ragnok smiled wryly in return and then pulled out a paper to write out the contract for the trade for the Time-Turner. It wasn't an Eye for an Eye Agreement, but was a trade nonetheless. Once that was done and they'd both signed, Ragnok's face grew serious.
"There something else that I'd like to speak with you about," he said. "It involves our information agreement. We shall, of course, continue to supply you with important information, I figure that you might also want a more...personal...source.
"We have a reliable contact whom I believe would be a good informant for you. All that you'd have to do is meet with him whenever you need information. He's a bit shady, of course, but most informants have to be in order to get their information. His name is David."
Ragnok pulled out a wizarding photo from somewhere among his piles of paper and slid it across the desk to Harry. The wizard picked it up to study it.
The photo was of a single man, who looked to be in his later thirties, early forties. He had dark hair that was dashed with gray and dark brown eyes. As far as Harry could tell, he was of medium stature and looked to be quite fit.
The photo was a candid one, Harry saw. Most likely the man, David, hadn't even known that it'd been taken.
Harry considered the wizard for a moment. Ragnok was right; it would be very useful to have a wizard to get information from. He'd have to meet him man under an alias though, and not as Harry Potter or Lord Peverell-Black. It wouldn't do to ruin his reputation as soon, after all.
Finally, Harry came to a decision. "Where do I meet him?" he asked
Ragnok grinned again. "At the Rosburg Tavern in Knockturn Alley. He'll be waiting for you there until midnight tonight. If you don't meet him by then, you'll never see him again."
After his meeting with Ragnok, Harry Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Immediately he began pacing back and forth in the entrance room. He needed to come up with another alias and disguise, and he needed to do it quick since it was already 11:30 pm.
Finally Harry stopped his pacing and began to finger his wand, an idea in mind. He touched the tip of his wand to the necklace around his neck. After murmuring the special glamour spell that he'd learned, he then checked his appearance in the long mirror on the wall.
Harry now appeared to be man in his early thirties with tanned, olive colored skin. He had a strong physique and stood at nearly 6'3. His head was completely shaven, though there was a short, black beard on his face. A pair of black irises peered out of almond shaped eyes. He looked almost...Egyptian, Harry realized. No one would ever connect the way he looked now with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry couldn't help but grin toothily, revealing pearly white teeth. He also looked perfect to fit in with the residents of Knockturn Alley. Now all that he needed was a name and a cover story, in case anyone dug to deeply into his past.
Not ten minutes later Harry was striding down Knockturn Alley. He was dressed in black and had his cloak's cowl pulled up, though not enough to hide his face from view.
As Harry walked deeper into the alley, he was shocked both at how far it went and at how lively it was at this time of the night. The alley seemed to be a maze of smaller, interconnecting alleyways, sprawling outward away from Diagon Alley. Numerous people, all dressed in black cloaks, were out and about, heading from shop to shop.
Before too long Harry came to a building with the sign Rosburg Tavern hanging out front. Upon stepping inside, he found that the place to be dim, but filled with many people. Numerous booths and tables were spread about the magically enlarged room.
It was in a booth in a corner of the room that Harry found the man he'd been looking for. David was leaning over a mug of Firewhiskey, his dark eyes scanning over the room. When he and Harry's gazes locked on each other, the younger wizard began to make his way towards the booth, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.
When Harry slid into the seat across from the informant, the first thing that he did was cast the Muffliato charm so that they wouldn't be overheard. Only then did he turn his full attention onto the other man.
"David."
The older wizard tilted his head in recognition. Glad that he'd chosen the correct person, Harry stretched an arm across the table and firmly shook David's hand.
"I am Mikael," he continued, using the alias that he'd come up with. "An associate of mine believes that you may be able to help me..."
With a quiet pop Harry Apparated into the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. A quick glance around assured Harry that no one was there, so he started walking over to the tree line, where Xiuhcoatl would be waiting for him.
Harry's meeting with David had gone quite smoothly. The man was surprisingly easy to talk to and Harry had gotten along with him very well. He had managed to set up a good deal with David—he was going to meet with him at Rosburg Tavern at the beginning of each month to get information on a wide variety of things, from what was happening in current politics, to where certain items could be found, to who was doing what illegal things. All of this would be helpful for the plan that he would eventually set in motion.
As soon as Harry reached the trees Xiuhcoatl revealed himself. He slithered up Harry's outstretched hand so that he could wrap himself around the young wizard's shoulders.
"Had fun?" the snake asked.
Harry couldn't help but crack a grin. "Why yes, I believe that I did."
Some instinct caused Harry to look up. Upon doing so he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of a centaur standing not ten feet from him. At first Harry feared that it was Bane, back for revenge, but he soon recognized him as Firenze and relaxed marginally.
Seeing that he had Harry's attention, Firenze bowed at the waist. "Greetings, Harry Potter," he said. "I am Firenze. I was sent to escort you safely out of the Forest."
Harry blinked I surprised, but was quick to return Firenze's bow. "Ah, thank you," he said.
Harry and Firenze walked through the dark forest in silence. Harry didn't want to open his mouth for fear of saying something that he wasn't supposed to know about yet. Firenze, on the other hand, seemed to be incredibly nervous to just be near Harry. The young wizard was sure that Firenze hadn't been like this the first time around, but perhaps that was just because he'd been seeing the centaur from an awed, Muggle-raised child's perspective.
Before long, Harry felt himself beginning to slow as exhaustion weighed heavily on his body. He'd had a very busy night, and though his mind was eighteen years old, his body was still that of an eleven year old. Harry attempted to push his tiredness away, but it wasn't long before Firenze noticed it.
Firenze frowned and stopped walking. Surprised, Harry paused as well, looking back at the centaur with confusion.
"You..." Firenze began hesitantly, "...You are tired. Would...you like to ride me? We will get out of the Forest faster that way."
Harry stared at Firenze through wide, shocked eyes. Though he'd ridden Firenze before, that had been b in the middle of an emergency. For him to ask him to ride him now... It must be a big blow to his dignity, to offer such a thing, but it also showed his great capacity for compassion.
Slowly, Harry shook his head. "No," he replied. "I could not do that to you. I will be fine walking.
Firenze appeared to be surprised by Harry's refusal, but did not question it. Instead the two lapsed back into silence as they began to walk once more. This time, however, the centaur had a thoughtful look on his face.
Finally the two reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There, Firenze bowed to Harry once more. "Good luck, young wizard."
"Firenze," Harry said, just as the centaur began to turn away. "I...wish to pass through the forest several times a month, to reach the edge of wards. Could you please speak to Morigan about this, to see if we could come to some sort of arrangement?"
Firenze nodded slowly. "I will do so," he said. "But I can promise nothing."
And then he was gone.
By the time that the morning of September 15th had rolled around, Harry was nervous. Very nervous. Today was the day that he'd have to go the Wizengamot, both as Lord Potter and Lord Peverell-Black. He desperately hoped that nothing would go wrong, but, considering his life so far, that seemed like to much to ask for.
The past week had been...interesting...to say that least. As the classes began to get into full swing, Harry was beginning to find himself very bored. Everything that they were being taught was stuff that was already almost second nature to him. Because of this, he was spending an inordinately large amount of time in the library, researching spells to teach himself, so that he could advance his education.
The highlight of the week, Harry thought, was the flying lessons that they'd had on Thursday, thee days ago. Through some miracle Harry had managed to calm Neville down enough to stop him from hurting himself this time around. Harry knew that originally it'd been because of that flying lesson that he'd gotten a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but... As much as he loved Quidditch, he honestly didn't have time for it. He was going to be insanely busy this time around, and wouldn't be able to go to practices and games like he had before, not with the Wizengamot and everything.
Harry groaned and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow. Eighteen or eleven, he was still far too young to be holding three seats in the Ministry.
Finally, after several minutes of moping around, Harry pulled himself out of bed and began to get dressed. He'd love for the morning to just disappear, but he knew that that wasn't going to happen, so there was no reason to act childish about it.
The rest of the morning passed in a whirlwind of nervous activity. Harry and studied with his friends, helping them with the homework that they hadn't finished. They'd formed a sort of small study group and met together several times a week in the library. It reminded Harry of the DA in a toned-down, Slytherin-included sort of way.
Eventually Harry found himself outside on his own, wandering around the grounds. He'd managed to slip away from his friends with the excuse that he needed to calm his nerves, which was definitely true.
As Harry walked he eventually spotted a large group of students up ahead. Noticing that they all were Gryffindors, Harry frowned and then began to make his way towards them. Once he'd pushed his way to the front of the crowd he found that the wizards' attention was on something in the distance.
Confused, Harry stared as well, and soon caught sight of someone hurtling towards them. Harry tensed for a moment, ready to run, but the figure curved into an aburpt halt about twenty feet from the group, in font of an older teen—a sixth year, Harry thought. The teen waved his wand immediately, causing some red numbers in front of him to freeze in their counting. Though Harry'd never seen such a thing before other than in the tempus charm, he suspected that it was some sort of a stopwatch charm.
Still slightly confused, Harry turned to an older girl who was standing next to him. "What's going on?" he questioned.
The girl looked surprised, but her expression quickly turned into a grin. "Broom racing," she explained. "Why? Would you like to try?"
Harry's expression turned pensive. He may not be going into Quidditch, but that didn't mean that he couldn't still fly every now and then. Finally, he shrugged.
"Sure, why not."
The girl's grin widened and she grabbed a hold of Harry's shoulder before dragging him over to the guy who'd preformed the stopwatch charm.
"Oi, Bryan!" she called out. "We've got another one!"
The teen, Bryan, turned to them. Upon seeing Harry, he cocked an eyebrow, surprised. He took a moment to look him up and down before finally shrugging.
"Well, he's got the build for it, at least," he commented. "Ever ridden a broom before, kid?"
Harry couldn't help but smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, a few times," he replied dryly.
Bryan raised his eyebrows in question for a moment before eventually shrugging again. "Whatever. Grab the broom and mount it in front of me. On my mark you'll take off. Fly straight to the marked tree down there, making sure to pass through the hoop on your way. Once there immediately turn around and come back, passing through the hoop again, and stop in front of me."
Harry looked up to the direction that Bryan was pointing in and immediately saw what he was talking about: There was a tree about two thousand yards away that had a red ribbon tied around it. Spaced evenly between Bryan and the tree was a large silver hoop that was floating a few feet off the ground.
With a shrug of his own, Harry strode over to where the broom that the previous boy had been flying was lying on the ground. Just as Bryan had described he mounted it in front of him, poised to take off at a moment's notice.
As soon as Bryan's call of "Go!" left his mouth Harry was off, rocketing off through the air. Used to a Firebolt as it was, he found the broom—a relatively new Comet Two Sixty—to be quite lagging and pushed it to go as fast as it could, leaning down almost flat against the handle. As he reached the levitating ring, he tightened his limbs against his body and leveled out his flight a bit until he'd whooshed through it.
In only seconds Harry reached the marked tree. Timing his moved carefully, Harry kept up his speed but then, right before the tree, pulled his handle up sharply, sending him flying back the way he'd come upside-down. By the time that Harry'd twisted himself upright once more he'd reached the ring again. He zoomed through and continued hurtling forward until he stopped abruptly in front of Bryan.
As he hopped off the broom Bryan gaped in shock at the numbers hanging in the air before him. Eventually his eyes slowly slid up to Harry.
"Bloody hell!" the sixth year exclaimed. "I didn't know that Comets could go that fast!"
The girl who had first dragged Harry over seemed to be in a state of shock as well. "Only ridden a few times, you say?"
Finally Bryan seemed to break out of his shock and instantly leapt over to Harry. "You're on the team!" he exclaimed happily. "You're definitely on the team!"
Harry blinked in surprise and confusion. "The...team...?" he asked.
"Well yeah—" Bryan began, only to cut himself off. He stared at Harry for a moment. "You didn't even know that you were trying out?"
Harry blinked again. "...Trying out for what?"
"Why, the racing team of course! The Gryffindor racing team!" Bryan exclaimed. "You have to join! You're one of the best racers I've seen in a while, and your small size only makes you that much better!"
"Umm..." Still a bit confused, Harry titled his head to the side. Though he'd heard of broom racing before, he'd never even known that Hogwarts had had a racing team at school. Or four teams, rather, as seemed to be the case.
Harry took a moment to contemplate the team. Honestly, he was actually interested in joining. He'd never be able to join the Quidditch team due to lack of time, but broom racing was a much less competitive sport that he could do as a side hobby. Not to mention that it'd allow him to get to fly every now and then. Speed had always been his favorite part of flying after all...
Finally, Harry looked back up at Bryan, who was looking at him expectantly. "I don't know much about the sport," the younger boy admitted.
Almost eagerly, Bryan began to explain. "There four racing teams at Hogwarts, one for each house," he said. "Each team consists of five people. Six times a year the races are held, and the winner gets 50 points for their house. Which ever four people have the most wins by the end of the year—no matter their house—participate in a final race. The winner's house is awarded 100 points and that person also gets a trophy."
Harry felt a smile quirking at the edge of his lips. Broom racing was that big of a sport in the school and yet he'd been too busy to even hear of it before? How amusing.
Finally, Harry shrugged. "Alright," he said. "I'll join. But only under one condition." At Bryan's inquiring look, he continued. "I won't attend practices. I'm just too busy."
Bryan looked surprised by Harry's demand, but slowly nodded. "Fine. But I'd recommend that you come to the first one, if only to get a feel for how the races will be. That practice will be held next Saturday at 4:00. You can meet us at the Quidditch pitch. And if you start to fall behind, I will enforce practices."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed. Then, with a backwards wave at the sixth year Gryffindor, he began to walk back to the castle. The crowd split before him to let him through while watching him with wide eyes.
It took Harry another fifteen minutes to get to the library. Once there he headed over to the corner where several of his friends—Ron, Blaise, Hermione, Terry, and Susan—were sitting around a table and dropped into a chair with a sigh.
"Something happen?" Terry asked while raised a questioning eyebrow. "You seem more annoyed than angry now."
Harry let out a sigh. "I'm not annoyed, per say. It's just that...I've been recruited to join the broom racing team."
"Bloody hell!" Ron exploded almost gleefully. "And you're upset about that? That's bloody awesome!"
"Language!" Hermione snapped, lightly whacking the boy over the head. Harry chuckled at the two.
Blaise too was grinning at Harry. "That is awesome," he agreed. "I didn't know that you were that good of a racer."
Harry shrugged. "Well, I love flying, and since I don't want to join the Quidditch team..."
Once again Ron stared at Harry like he was insane. "You don't want to join? Why the hell not?"
"Not enough time," Harry replied with another shrug. "I'd rather focus more on my schoolwork, not to mention that I'm probably going to be very busy with this Wizengamot business.
Blaise looked at Harry sharply. "Ah, yes, that's today isn't it? My father will be there. I hope you'll get to meet him."
A wry grin tugged at the edges of Harry's lips. "Me too," he murmured. "Me too..."
Before he knew it, 10:30 had rolled around and Harry was walking towards the Great Hall, where he'd agreed to meet Dumbledore. The esteemed headmaster would then escort him off the grounds and Apparate them both to the Ministry.
As soon as Harry rounded one last corner he caught sight of Dumbledore standing before the doors of the Great Hall. The older man was wearing a set of ostentatious purple robes.
"Harry, my boy," the headmaster beamed. "Right on time. Please follow me; we'll be Apparating to the Ministry of Magic today."
Harry tucked in his head in a bow and then followed the older wizard. Surprisingly, he found that he had to walk quickly to keep up with Dumbledore's long strides, and thus began to mentally curse his small size. And just when he'd finally gotten tall in his original timeline, too...
Before long Dumbledore and Harry were passing through the gates that lead to the outside of Hogwarts' grounds—and thus wards. A few feet beyond them Dumbledore stopped and turned to Harry.
"Here we are," Dumbledore said. "Now, just hold on tightly to my arm and I'll side-along Apparate you. It'll feel uncomfortable at first, but it'll be over in just a second."
Harry did as he'd been instructed and with a quiet pop the two wizards disappeared.
A/N: This must be a record for me; it's been less than a week since my last update. Does this make up for the cliffhanger in the last chapter? Though admittedly, this chapter could technically be called a cliffhanger as well, minus the suspense. I was also quite amused at the number of people who correctly (or near correctly) guessed the direction this story was taking. I suppose that just means I'll have to start putting a few twists in, no? And finally, Mikael is pronounced as Mii-kai-el, not Michael.
For those of you who aren't aware, there's a site error on FF at the moment that's preventing people from updating stories in categories with over 40,000 or so stories (e.g. Harry Potter, Naruto, etc). So if you haven't been getting many alerts for the past week, that's why! For you authors: this error can be bypassed by changing "property" to "content" in your address bar when you get the error.
[Shi]