And no lights lead you onwards
And no signs point you on your way
Just earth in all directions
It's endless
It's mapless
No compass
No north star
Rufus Scrimgeour sat in his office. A clock chimed somewhere in the distance foretelling the sunrise. The Minister rubbed his aching brow and opened the next file folder. A small stack of paper sat fluttering in the breeze in front of him. He glared at it for a moment before angrily pushing it and everything else on his desk off onto the floor.
"What?" he whispered, staring down at his hands in shock. The stress must be catching up with him, he'd never done anything like that before.
Rufus wasn't one for outbursts and dramatics. The whole of the wizarding world know him as someone who is steadfast and responsible, loyal and even-minded. He sighed and began picking up his things. If only all those wizards and witches could see him now, a wreck.
A tapping at the window caused no reaction in the man. He was so used to the sound that he almost missed it. Dropping the papers he'd retrieved, he crossed the length of his office and opened the window. A very agitated brown owl flew in with a large white envelope tied to its leg. Somehow it dropped its burden on Rufus' desk with no help from the man whatsoever and then took off through the open window.
Curious, Rufus cautiously picked up the envelope, reading the return address with some surprise. "Albus," he stammered, his expression turning to one of surprise and confusion. Slowly he walked around the large mahogany desk and then slumped into his high backed leather chair.
Hello Rufus.
The first two words caused the Minister to feel a sudden nervousness. Without thinking he glanced around the room, a small part of him wondering if the departed Headmaster would suddenly pop out from behind one of his curtains and yell 'Surprise!'. Rufus shook his head at his own foolishness and continued to read.
Hello Rufus. Merlin, you must be surprised! I would wager that the whole wizarding world is sharing in your surprise. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of our age, dead!
Rufus nodded as if the dead man was actually conversing with him.
Death is not the end my friend. That's all I wish to say on that subject.
The more important thing to remember is that, contrary to popular opinion, I am not the most powerful wizard of our age. I never was. Wisest perhaps, or most experienced, but never the most powerful. Voldemort may fear me but he is more powerful then I. Why did he fear me then you may ask? Perception is everything. He perceived me to be a larger threat then I was and that flawed perception was what kept him at bay for such a long time.
Who is the most powerful wizard then? I would think the answer would be obvious. A young seventeen year old wizard who will need all the help he can get. I ask you to give him that help. Do not hinder him Rufus, you will only regret it.
Harry doesn't need Ministry control. Harry doesn't need the wizarding world to look at him as if he holds their lives in his hands. Harry needs someone to train him and teach him. I have abandoned him and he is not ready.
Help him Rufus.
Rufus paused for a moment wondering if the former Headmaster had been mad before he died. Potter hated him, how in the world would he be able to help the boy?
Harry does hold their lives in his hands. I tell you this with a certainty. I can't explain how I know, I only ask that you trust this as fact.
The Minister reread the last lines three more times, a sick feeling welling up inside his gut. He'd always had a feeling that the boy was important, hell…so did the rest of the world, but to have it confirmed by Dumbledore himself, to have it so concrete. Rufus swallowed tightly and suddenly felt small and insignificant.
We've had our differences but I've always respected you Rufus.
Rufus swallowed tightly again, his eyes watering slightly.
The war does not matter, the Death Eaters insignificant, the Aurors merely distraction, it will only come down to the two or so Voldemort thinks. He is as egotistical as would be expected considering he is the last heir of Slytherin but he forgets that it wasn't only Godric who drove Salazar out of Hogwarts.
The Minister's jaw fell open. Were the heirs out there somewhere? Would they help if called upon? Was this what Dumbledore was trying to tell him?
Do not go looking for help, it is out there watching and waiting. When the times comes, Harry must be ready for it must be him and only him that strikes the last final blow.
Help him Rufus.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. Hogwarts will need a new Professor of Defense and Potions. I ask that you assist the Deputy Headmistress in finding someone suitable. Minerva will look after things until the next Headmaster or Headmistress is chosen.
That was the end. Rufus flipped the parchment over but the back was completely blank. He slammed the letter down onto his desk and glared at it with an expression of steely resolve. It was time for the Ministry to do something that would really count.
"Get me Auror Tonks," he ground out to his secretary.
"At once Minister," a confused voice replied.
dSz
Lucius Malfoy stared down at his dirty covered hands. The glow of pale skin was all gone now, painted over by something gruesome and black. These are my hands, Lucius reminded himself for the hundredth time, these are my hands. His fingers folded in turning his hands into fists and he glared at them. These are my fists, he told himself for the hundredth time, these are mine.
He was entertaining thoughts again, thoughts that he knew he shouldn't even be acknowledging. If the Dark Lord were to find out once he was broken out of here, well, it wouldn't be a pretty sight. If anyone ever came to get him, to save him. A low chuckle escaped the depressed wizard. Who would save him? If the Dark Lord did come to get him, then only torture would follow. Lucius knew that the Dark Lord would use him as a lesson and a warning.
"How did this happen?" he questioned the empty cell. No wizard had as much as he, a beautiful and cultured wife, an intelligent son, and enough money and power to last until the ends of his days. "And now," he spoke aloud, "nothing."
It had all seemed so simple. Purebloods should rule the world because purebloods…are purebloods. Was that it? Lucius frowned to himself. Perhaps he couldn't remember after all this time in isolated silence. Too much thinking had made him forget who he was, that had to be it. A laugh escaped him, becoming louder by the second until it changed to a wailing.
Lucius lay his head in his hands and wept. These are my hands, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, these are my hands.
dSz
"I think I better get down there," Ron told Harry as he hovered next to him, "Hermione will be cross if I stay up here all day."
"I suppose so," Harry admitted with an amused grin, "I'll see you later then mate."
Ron smiled and a moment later he was flying down to his girlfriend where she waited in the stands. Hermione shielded her eyes with one hand and waved at Harry with the other. Harry gave an enthusiastic wave in return but his smile didn't match the feeling of the gesture. Luckily his friends were too far away to notice.
The sun felt good on his face as he raced around the pitch and soon he was truly smiling. After about an hour Harry began to feel strange. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he suddenly felt as if he was being watched. Trying not to be obvious, he glanced around and noticed a lone figure sitting in the stands. His stomach clenched tightly as he realized who it was.
"I'm sorry," she said as soon as he landed next to her, "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm usually not like that."
Harry gave Rowena an encouraging smile as she reached up to take off her glasses. "Leave them on," he said and she glanced up in surprise. "They suit you." She smiled and pushed the half-moon glasses back on her nose.
"I think so too," she admitted, "I am sorry. I don't know why I suddenly got so jealous. I never even knew him."
"I'm sorry you never knew him," Harry replied solemnly, "He was a good wizard. I'm sure there's some reason that he didn't want you here. Probably to keep you safe."
"I suppose I shouldn't be sitting here with you," Rowena chuckled, poking Harry in the side.
"I suppose not."
"I'm just kidding," Rowena said quickly, worried that the boy might take her joke seriously. "Do you think you could teach me how to fly on one of those?" She asked, pointing to his broomstick.
"You bet," Harry replied, "I can take you for a fly right now if you want."
"That would be awesome!" Rowena exclaimed. "What do I do?"
Harry mounted his Firebolt. "Just sit down behind me and hold on. I'll start out slow."
Without hesitation Rowena hopped on the back of Harry's broom and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Is this okay?" she asked shyly, causing Harry to blush.
"Its fine," he replied before pushing off. Soon they were flying slowly around the pitch.
"Can we go faster?"
"You bet." Harry flashed an evil grin and leaned forward.
dSz
The door creaked angrily causing Hermione to cringe. She'd left Ron with Dudley in the Gryffindor common room. Dudley had become very interested in wizard's chess after watching a match between Ron and herself, it was the perfect time for Hermione to sneak away.
The portraits eyed her as she made her way across the Headmaster's office. Taking a large breath she held down her emotions and looked up to see Dumbledore giving her a curious look. It turned into one of unease as Hermione began to run her hands around the portrait's frame.
She circled the portrait like a cat, eyeing it for anything strange. "There's got to be something," she muttered coming to stand in front of the departed Headmaster once more. "I don't know if you can even hear me," she stated, "but if you can then you should know something." Leaning close to Dumbledore's painted visage she whispered. "I'm on to you."