A/N I have removed the references to the golden blood in the past chapters. As cool as it'd be to change the color of the blood, I've realized that changing the color of the blood will serve no purpose. I've also gone back and changed the fight scene between Puck and Gwyn in chapter ten if you want to look back at that.
Special thanks to my beta, Haphne24.
Chapter Twelve
"Harry," Dumbledore called. "Come up here, please."
Harry scowled at the old man. Up to this point, he'd managed to stay off the radar. He could only imagine what they'd be saying about him now. He rose from the Slytherin table and quickly walked up to the staff table.
Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. "Go through the door Harry," he said quietly. "We shall sort this out."
Harry blinked at him. He'd never seen the old man so accommodating. Had Merlin put some sort of personality altering rune in the Homunculus? Nodding to the Headmaster, Harry entered the small room off the great hall.
XXX
Fleur looked up as he entered. "What is it?" She asked. "Do they want us back in the hall?"
Harry shook his head. "The goblet was tampered with."
"Vhat?" Viktor grunted. "Vhat do you mean tampered vith?"
"A fourth name came out of the goblet."
"Yours?" Cedric asked.
Harry nodded.
Before anyone else could say anything, the door opened. In came Dumbledore, Lily, Maxime, Karkaroff, and a tall man with a handlebar mustache. They were followed by a heavy set man who was babbling excitedly.
"Unprecedented," he muttered. "This has never happened before."
Fleur turned to her headmistress. "Madame Maxime, this little boy says that he has been entered in the tournament."
Harry glared at the veela. He'd spent the first five years of his life in Azkaban; there was no way he could ever be considered a little boy.
Maxime turned on Dumbledore. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore," she boomed. "Two Hogwarts champions?"
"I'd like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff snapped. "I don't remember reading where the hosting school is allowed two champions."
"Hogwarts will not have two champions," Dumbledore said calmly.
"You have found a vay to get him out of ze tournament?" Viktor asked.
"No," Dumbledore said, "but his name was not entered under Hogwarts; it was entered under Salem Institute."
"That is an American school," the tall mustached man said stiffly.
"Indeed, Mr. Crouch," Dumbledore said.
"Will the contract still be binding?" the heavy set man asked.
"I don't know, Bagman," Dumbledore said pulling the parchment from his robes. He handed it to Harry. "Is that your handwriting?"
Harry glanced at the parchment and nodded. "Yes, it looks like something taken off my homework. Whoever did this, they were very thorough. Look at this," he indicated the edges of the parchment. "This wasn't torn; it was cut."
"Hmm," Dumbledore said stroking his beard. "That is troubling. It is almost like they didn't want to draw attention to the state of the parchment, but who would be that thorough?"
"Wait," Karkaroff snapped. "We are still assuming that the boy didn't enter his name. How do we know he didn't find a way to get passed your age line?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Oh, we would've known if he'd tried to cross the age line. I know he had nothing to do with his entrance into the tournament. Nevertheless, to set your suspicions at rest." He turned to Harry. "Will you give a magical oath that you had nothing to do with your entrance into the tournament?"
"Of course, sir," Harry said.
"Excellent," Dumbledore said. He handed Harry a piece of parchment. "Will you swear to everything written there?"
Harry quickly read over the parchment before raising his right hand. "I, Harry James Potter, swear that I did not enter my name into the Goblet of Fire for the Triwizard Tournament. I also swear that I did not ask anyone to do it for me, nor do I have any knowledge of who entered my name, so mote it be." There was a flash of light that lit the entire room from end to end. When it cleared, Harry clicked his fingers. A ball of flame hovered above his palm.
Dumbledore waved a hand and the ball of flame vanished. He clapped Harry on the back. "Fantastic, Harry," he said beaming.
"Wait," Lily said speaking for the first time. "Shouldn't we be finding a way to get Harry out of the tournament?"
Dumbledore's smile vanished. "I am afraid that will be impossible. Harry's name is on the parchment for the tournament. It is written in his own hand. I am not willing to risk his health on a maybe. Do not worry, I will continue his training to prepare him for the tournament."
"You can't," Karkaroff said. "As Headmaster, you are forbidden to aid your champion in any way. Surely, you have not forgotten that?"
Dumbledore smiled innocently at Karkaroff. "Of course I haven't forgotten, but I have been training Harry ever since an incident in his first year. He is not registered as a Hogwarts champion, so I am fully within my rights to continue that training."
"Mr. Crouch," Maxime said. "Mr. Bagman, surely you cannot condone such a blatant attempt at favoritism. Whether the boy is a champion for Salem Institute or Hogwarts, he will still be participating in the tournament at Hogwarts. It is not right for Dumbledore to give the boy preferential treatment."
Mr. Crouch cleared his throat. "Dumbledore, do you have documentation of this training you have been giving the boy?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said.
"Then we will need to see it. If everything is in order, I see no reason why you should not be allowed to continue the boy's training." He held up a hand to stop Maxime and Karkaroff from protesting. "You must remember that the boy was entered in the tournament against his will. He is three years younger than his fellow champions. I will do whatever it takes to limit the number of deaths during this tournament whether you like it or not." He turned to Bagman. "Ludo," he said. "The rules for the first task if you please."
Mr. Bagman stepped forward. "Right," he began uncertainly. "The first task is designed to test your bravery in the face of the unknown. Therefore, we will not be telling you what it is. It will take place on the twenty-fourth of November; I suggest you prepare yourselves for anything," he said with a grin.
"Is that all?" Maxime asked stiffly.
When Bagman nodded, she motioned to Fleur to follow her and Karkaroff did the same with Viktor. The foreign heads swept from the room without another word followed by their champions.
Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He smiled at Cedric. "I think it would be best if you returned to your common room. I'm sure Hufflepuff is waiting for you and it would be a shame to deprive them of the excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Cedric nodded with a bright smile and left the room. Dumbledore turned to Bagman and Crouch. "Would you to like to stay at Hogwarts for the night?"
Crouch shook his head. "I have work to do back at the Ministry, but I thank you for the offer."
"If you're offering," Bagman said with a bright smile. "I'll be happy to stay; the tournament is my work after all."
Crouch rolled his eyes behind Bagman's back.
"Make yourself at home," Dumbledore said to Bagman.
He turned to Harry and Lily. "I wonder if I could see you in my office for a few moments."
Harry and Lily looked at each other before shrugging. "Sure," Lily said hesitantly.
"Great," Dumbledore said holding the door open for them to pass through. "This will not take long."
XXX
Tom got to his feet slowly and every muscle ached. He could feel blood running down his face and his left eye was swollen shut. With each breath, a bolt of pain shot through his left side.
Voldemort was not much better. There was blood running down his face. His right eye was gone and his body was decorated with numerous cuts and bruises. He smiled at Tom, revealing several missing teeth. "You will not win, boy. I am far older and stronger than you could possibly imagine; you are merely a weak remnant of my past."
Tom spat out a mouthful of blood. "Funny, I could say the same about you. You're nothing but a bad idea I had when I was young. If anything, you're just a manifestation of my fear of death."
Voldemort responded with a killing curse. The green light flew through the air, forcing Tom to duck. The green light soared harmlessly over his head.
With a flick of his fingers, Tom sent a wave of razor sharp swords flying at Voldemort.
Snarling, Voldemort raised a shield to block the attack. The swords struck the shield with a deafening 'bong.'
Tom could feel himself weakening with every spell. Seeing Voldemort stumble, he lunged forward. He knew this was his last chance. He landed on top of Voldemort, driving him to the ground.
Voldemort grunted as he slammed into the ground flat on his back. He gasped as Tom's hands clamped around his throat. His lungs burning with agony. Tom's eyes stared down into his red ones "Now, you shall be gone forever," he hissed.
Twisting, Voldemort managed to free himself for a few seconds. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.
Tom didn't answer. He gripped Voldemort's throat in both hands and bore down as hard as he could. Voldemort struggled frantically, but was unable to break Tom's iron grip. There was a crack, and Voldemort's red eyes went glassy. He felt his consciousness faded and his last sight before the darkness claimed him was Tom's blue eyes. Tom lay there, his hands tight upon his other self's throat. After several moments, he felt the skin beneath his hands growing thin; he leapt to his feet and stepped back. Voldemort's body turned transparent and it floated up into the air and shot towards Tom. He had just enough time for his eyes to widen before everything went black.
XXX
Gwyn stood deep in the forest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Everything was going to plan. The boy was in the tournament. Now, all he had to do was manipulate the tasks to truly test him.
"I won't let you succeed," Puck said stepping out of the trees.
"Well," Gwyn said. "What exactly are you going to do, hmm? You tried to fight me last time and look how well that turned out. Do you think this time will go any better?"
Puck clenched his fists. He breathed heavily, struggling to remain calm. He could not allow Gwyn's words to get to him. "I won't let you win; I'll find a way to kill you."
"That's the spirit," Gwyn said smiling broadly. "Fight me. I look forward to the challenge. Hopefully, you will prove to be a worthy opponent."
"I don't remember you being this cocky," Merlin said stepping up beside Puck. "Have you forgotten that you were locked in a box for centuries?"
"Merlin," Gwyn said. "I wondered when you'd get here. Are you surprised I made it this close to the school?"
Merlin shrugged unconcernedly. "The wards were never meant to extend this far. I kind of hoped that something would eat you to tell the truth."
"Is that any way to talk to your father?"
"Can someone be considered a father if they deceive a woman, have sex with her, and then have nothing to do with the child?"
"That's not my fault. I was imprisoned as you well know and I was never good with children; I would've been a terrible role model for you."
"You still are," Merlin said harshly. "You want to screw your sister."
Gwyn chuckled. "What is it the mortals say? What can I say? She's hot."
Merlin placed a hand on Puck's shoulder. "Come on old friend, let's get out of here."
Before they could teleport away, Gwyn spoke. "This isn't over Merlin," he said icily. "We will fight sooner or later. Do you understand me? You will pay for abandoning me."
Merlin didn't answer. He simply vanished, taking Puck with him.
XXX
Dumbledore sank into his chair with a groan. "That feels good," he said sighing contentedly.
Harry and Lily looked at each other. Slowly, Lily sat down across from Dumbledore and Harry joined her.
"You wanted to see us?" Harry asked stiffly.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I wanted to say I remember everything; I am fully aware what I did to you. No words can express my sorrow for the pain I have caused."
"That's it," Lily snapped. "You're sorry? That's all you have to say? You locked me in Azkaban for being an elf. To compound your mistake, you locked Harry in there as well, an innocent baby. If I hadn't received aid, Harry would've died."
Dumbledore sat calmly listening to Lily's diatribe. At the mention of locking Harry away, he flinched noticeably.
"I regret more than I can say," he whispered. "I should never have locked Harry or you in that hell hole and I have no excuse. When I found out you were Morgaine Le Fay, I panicked. I thought that you would destroy our way of life; I had to do something. I couldn't just let you change everything I knew. I'd read how you'd orchestrated Arthur's incestuous union with his sister, how you'd taken the scabbard of Excalibur and through it into a lake, and lastly, how you'd tried to get Queen Guinevere burned to death." Lily sat silently listening to Dumbledore's words. In a way, she could understand his fears. The stories about her rarely painted her in a good light; it didn't help that most of them were true. She could understand him locking her away, but that didn't excuse his imprisoning of Harry. Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry.
"What caused this change? Three years ago, you would've happily seen us dead."
Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. "It is a long story."
"We have time," Lily said.
Dumbledore drew his wand causing Harry and Lily to tense. He placed the tip at his temple and slowly withdrew a long silvery strand of what looked like mist from his head. With a wave of his wand, a stone bowl inscribed with runes around the edge appeared. It landed gently on the desk in front of him. Dumbledore slowly lowered the strand of mist into the bowl.
"A pensive?" Lily asked.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said smiling softly. "This will be a lot quicker and will explain everything more thoroughly than I can with words." He stood. "Shall we?"
Harry glanced at his mother. "Is there any way we could be trapped in there?"
"No," Lily said thoughtfully. "However, the memory could be altered, but that leaves traces. We might as well see what he wants."
"Thank you," Dumbledore said gratefully.
Harry and Lily leaned over the bowl. "On three," Dumbledore said. "One, two, three."
The three touched the mist in the bowl. Harry had just enough time to register that the mist felt cold before he was falling.
XXX
Harry blinked. The room around him was as black as pitch. "Where are we?"
"These are my private quarters," Dumbledore said. "It is night time and I am asleep. Look," he pointed to a figure with long red hair standing beside the bed.
"Nimue," Lily murmured.
They watched as she erased the runes on Dumbledore's body before touching his forehead and vanishing. The air seemed to swirl around them and they found themselves back in Dumbledore's office. Harry opened his mouth to ask if the memory was over, but then noticed Nimue sitting in a chair across from a confused looking Dumbledore.
"What," past Dumbledore began. "Where am I?"
Nimue smiled at him. "Fear not," she said. "You are still dreaming. I created this setting to give you a sense of reassurance and familiarity."
"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked.
"Someone who is here to try and convince you to change your ways."
"I don't understand," Dumbledore said.
"I suppose not," Nimue said. "Observe," she commanded.
Dumbledore went ridged and fell back in his chair. Images swam before his eyes, each one a knife to the gut. He saw a line of people led into shower stalls. He watched as the doors were shut and heard their horrified screams. When the doors opened again, bodies lay sprawled haphazardly on the floor. Before he could say a word, the image changed. He was looking at another group of people. These wore ragged and torn clothes. They were skeletally thin, every bone visible through their bruised and torn flesh. They were digging what looked like a pit with their bare hands. He saw a man dressed in a Nazi uniform walk up, the Swastika gleaming proudly on his chest. "On your feet," he commanded. The shivering prisoners stood up. More soldiers walked up. Without warning, they drew their guns and fired. The people fell like puppets with their strings cut into the hole they'd dug.
The air swirled again and Dumbledore was watching himself making plans with Grindelwald.
"I agree that the muggles must be placed under Wizarding control for their own good; they are too dangerous to be allowed free."
Before Grindelwald could respond, the air had swirled again. Dumbledore was watching as he locked Lily and her son in Azkaban.
"Nooo," he screamed. "It's not true." Just like that, the images were over. He sat in his office, tears running down his face.
Nimue looked at him, her brown eyes shining with compassion. "Do you see what you have done now? Do you see the pattern?"
Dumbledore was shaking all over. "It's not true," he kept saying. "It can't be true."
"It is," Nimue said firmly. "Merlin told you that you were like Hitler, but you weren't interested in listening. Now, I am leaving you no choice. You were going to leave an elf and her innocent child in Azkaban and for what? Just because they were elves."
Dumbledore had no response. Everything came flooding back. His memories had deluged him, like a wave sweeping him under the ocean. Looking back, there was no denying what he had done. How could he excuse his actions? He couldn't; there was no excuse.
"The funny thing is," Nimue continued. "You have elven blood in you; you are a descendant of Merlin and myself."
Dumbledore stared at her in horror. "No," he whispered.
"What exactly are you saying no to, hmm?"
"I tried to kill my own people; I imprisoned an infant for being what he was. Merlin was right."
"That's right," Nimue said. "I have shown you this to make sure you understand what your actions caused. I want to give you a chance, a chance to turn your life around. Would you like that?"
"I swear to you," Dumbledore said raising a hand. "I will change."
Nimue smiled. She rose and stepping forward, kissed his cheek. "That is all I can ask," she said softly.
"I think that will do," said the Dumbledore standing beside them.
Harry and Lily found themselves rising out of the memory and back into Dumbledore's real office.
XXX
Harry blinked. He stared at Dumbledore in shock. "I really don't know what to say."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Quite understandable, dear boy."
"I don't know what to say either," Lily said. "You imprisoned us, but you also offered an explanation for Harry's wandless magic."
"That is just the start for the many things I must atone for," Dumbledore said somberly.
Lily stared deep into his eyes. Her golden green meeting blue. "You have changed," she said finally. She stood and gestured for Harry to follow her.
"I need some time to think about this."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Take as long as you need. Just remember, I will be here if you have need of me."
Lily nodded before she left the room followed by Harry. The door closed with a quiet click behind them.
Dumbledore stared at the closed door for a long time. "I hope someday you can forgive me," he whispered.
XXX
Ollivander, also known as Lancelot sat straight up in his chair. He yawned and stretched feeling his back pop satisfyingly. As had happened so many times, he'd dozed off in his chair while working. He sat still, quietly sniffing the air. Something was very wrong. Slowly, he drew a long shaft of bone from his robes. The bone was etched with strange runes that seemed to move when the light caught them. At the end of the bone, a silver tip gleamed in the light.
"So you are the legendary Lancelot," a voice said from across from him. "I must say I thought you'd be taller."
The room was suddenly flooded with light revealing boxes stacked to the ceiling. Lancelot sat up a little straighter, raising the bone spear to point at his visitor. "Who are you?"
The stranger brushed a strand of blond hair out of his face. His yellow eyes never left the spear in Lancelot's hand. "A wand that doubles as a spear," he said reverently. "You are resourceful."
"Who are you?" Lancelot repeated his voice like a whip crack in the silence.
"My name is Gwyn App Nudd," the man said, "and I am your death."
He raised a hand to strike, but was forced to duck as a bolt of green light flew at his head. The light smashed into a shelf behind him, causing several boxes to burst into flame.
Gwyn rose to his feet, and hurled a ball of roiling black energy at the old man.
Lancelot ducked the energy ball, allowing it to smash into the chair behind him. Almost immediately, the chair began to rot and decay. The wood splintered and cracked. The cloth of the chair turned to dust.
"That was my favorite chair," Lancelot snarled. A ball of fire leapt from the spear, heading straight for Gwyn.
Gwyn vanished. Lancelot looked around frantically for him. Where had he gone? He cried out as agony exploded in his chest. Looking down, he saw a pale arm sticking out of his chest. He coughed, blood bubbling between his lips.
"Why," he croaked.
"I need a distraction," Gwyn said. "I need to throw this Wizarding world into Chaos and killing you will do that."
Lancelot could feel his strength fading fast. He only had mere moments left.
"I am merciful," Gwyn said. "Do you have any last words?"
"Just this," Lancelot snarled. Drawing back his arm, he hurled the spear directly into Gwyn's left eye.
The yellow orb popped like a rotten melon. Gwyn screamed and leapt back, yanking his arm out of Lancelot's chest. Blood and clear fluid spurted from the punctured eye. He stared at Lancelot in shock; he'd never been hurt like this. To make matters worse, his eye wasn't healing.
Lancelot grinned at him with bloodstained teeth. "There's a little something to remember me by," he croaked before slumping to the ground, dead.
Gwyn looked up as the shop began to rumble. Ollivander's, the wand shop that had stood for over a thousand years, exploded with a deafening roar.
