Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I pity anyone with that name today.
Harry was having a nightmare. A nightmare about a door. Where was that door leading to? Where was it? He always woke up in a sweat after that particular dream. This time was no exception. A few weeks before Christmas, he went to talk to the Headmaster, not feeling good about it. He told him everything, and coupled that with an interrogation about Voldemort's current inaction. He confided to Albus that Voldemort wasn't staying in any of the major family manors. Albus was curious, to say the least; but he kept his questions in check. Harry kept his sources secret for fear of compromising them. That he was willing to share his information was enough for now. It would be best not to press him.
"Well…Harry. The reason why Tom is so silent and is sending you dreams of that place are connected, I'm afraid. From your description, it might very well be the door leading to the room in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry building where the prophecies are kept. He's trying to lure you to get it for him, and is concentrating his efforts on rebuilding his underground network. The content of this prophecy is probably what he fears the most right now. Since your name and his are written on it, he doesn't really know what to expect from it, or from you. He might fear that it says he cannot kill you, which would explain why you have always survived in your encounters with him. I'm trying to encourage that way of thinking, despite my minimal influence on the Death Eaters."
"So…He's after it. He knows about it. Any clue how he found out?" asked Harry, puzzled.
"Yes, I know how," Albus simply answered. This time, it was Harry who figured it was best not to keep asking.
"All right. So he knows about it. Does he know any of the contents?" kept on Harry.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies," quoted the Headmaster.
Harry fell back in his chair.
"Well, that explains the obsession he has with li'l old me. For a moment, I thought it was some kind of 'young boy fetish'."
"Seeing how badly he wanted to become a teacher here, in a class where he could technically subdue the students, there may be a little bit of that too," said Albus, mocking Tom for once.
Harry chuckled, but got back to business quickly.
"So… What do we do? This thing is useless now. I know of the prophecy already. Shouldn't we destroy it?"
"I guess… we could…" drawled Albus, reluctantly. "But it's working as a good decoy right now. If we destroy it, he'll guess that you already know about it and will seek the information directly from me, or you. You simply have to stay here and ignore the dream. It would be good to find a way to keep him from bothering you with those visions though…"
"Have to stay here… Do you mean that it must either be me or him that takes the prophecy from there?"
"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore.
"Then it's perfect! We could set up a trap for him! We let it be known that we're secretly moving it somewhere else! He'll have to send Death Eaters against me to take it, or even come himself! We could…"
"No, Harry. That's too dangerous. Let's not even consider that. His allies are too strong. It would cause too many casualties."
Harry was on the edge of his seat. He looked down, disappointed.
"It's such a good opportunity!"
"We cannot afford so great a risk…"
"I know! I know… We'll have to find something else."
"Don't worry, Harry. The Order can safeguard the place. Mr. Weasley himself is spending the night guarding it," said Albus in a comforting way. It didn't have the expected results.
"Are you NUTS?" yelled Harry, standing up.
Dumbledore was struck by Harry's behaviour.
"Voldemort and I are the only two able to take it from the shelves, you know that! You told me yourself a moment ago! If he shows up, Mr Weasley doesn't stand a fighting chance! No matter what advantage he could scrape from a surprise effect! The prophecy itself says it! Only I can defeat him! At best, he's going to get a hostage, to force me to run down there and retrieve it for him! You really think Arthur is able to stay awake all night, doing nothing, after a long day's work? You're ordering him to get back home THIS INSTANT!"
Harry was angry. That didn't mean he was wrong. Albus saw the logic behind the angry tone and tiredly cancelled any guard duty over the prophecy, deciding he was really getting too old for this game.
Harry got back to Luna that evening. He was agitated. She was concerned about him. The inclined floor of the Projection room had two purposes: to give a better view for the ones at the rear, and to provide a private hideout for Harry and Luna under the false floor. His 'Grim Reaper' arsenal was long complete. He hid his scythe in there too. He simply didn't have good enough information and resolve to act. They talked, looking at his attire on a clothing stand.
"I'm going to talk to the Minister tomorrow," announced Harry while Luna was resting her back against his chest, sitting on the floor.
"You're ready? Once it begins…" she asked simply and sincerely.
"Yeah. I know. Thanks. But we have a lull in the fighting. It won't last forever. With any luck, Tom will wait until the end of the school year to issue an ultimatum."
They fell silent, and tried to take their minds off of things, taking the advantage of being alone, in a secret room nobody else knew of. Pieces of clothing began to fall…
Luna had quite a reason to have a dreamy look in her eyes when she got back to her common room that night. The other 'Claws, used to ignoring her, missed the goofy grin she sported too.
Harry put the last touches on that week's carving at Gringotts. Those goblins were insane! The amount of work was tremendous. Still, he had given his word. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to ward all of the vaults. He linked the majority of them to an overall security system that would be monitored by a goblin. Those simply required a few dozens runes on the doors and walls. Not a big deal. The bigger and more ancient ones were something else. They needed different, independent systems. He took the time to secure the carts against crashing and hijacking too.
The Halls were already covered by anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. But there were some minor cracks in Godric's spells that could not be accounted for back then. He took care of that, and secured the rooms around the Halls in the same manner. Anyone who thought he would just have to leave the Halls to escape was going to have a very unpleasant surprise. Harry managed to make a combination of runes and Egyptian glyphs that would splinch someone, specifically of both his arms. Good luck at using a wand or grabbing a portkey, Dude! He tried to stay as non-lethal as possible, but couldn't keep the gloves on for some of the vaults.
One in particular was kept sealed by some strange power that the goblins had no idea of. Securing it from theft was pointless. The thing was, there was something inside that might want to get out. He had to ward it against that. Asking what it was, to know where to start, the goblins said, in a non-angry and very respectful way, that he really didn't want to know. Really! Something that could scare the goblins…He warded the door and the walls around them with strengthening and unbreakable runes. He carved an insane amount of self-repairing rune patterns so that if something dealt a lot of damage, the wall could repair itself fully between two attacks. He asked the goblins for some big statues made of arcanite. That metal was the best container for huge amounts of magic for long periods of time. They would take decades to fully charge, sucking up a small amount of energy from the non-goblins who would ride the carts. They would power up an incapacitating net in case it got through the door, freezing any attack, and overpowered banishers every half-second until whatever it was was back in its vault while the walls rebuilt themselves.
Charging up so many runes took a great deal of his power. To put all of this 'online' later, he would need powering stones. He put many all around the place, in the waiting chairs and the floor tiles, for example. The customers themselves would help keep their money secure. Of course, they needed little power to be kept activated; only when activated would they need to recharge.
At the end of this session of work, Harry simply washed the stone dust from his hands, and cleaned his tools before leaving. (The goblins were not cheap with the tools either.) Then he met the Minister in a secret chamber provided by the goblins.
The Cornelius Fudge that Harry had before him was very different from the one he had met about two years ago. He had more wrinkles. He had lost a good deal of weight. But he held his head higher, not in pride, but in an actual sign of leadership, the sign of a man who believed in what he did.
"Harry! It's so good to see you! We should have made this meeting public! The press hasn't seen us together since last year! You look to be in good shape, as usual! What are these working clothes for?" he asked, barely catching his breath.
Harry smiled. The politician was at his best. Since they were fighting a war where the dark side wasn't retaliating much, the game was in his favour.
"I'm quite proficient with Ancient Runes, Minister, as you are well aware of by now. I have a contract with the goblins that I can't give you the details of right now, but I can tell you the overall goal."
"Please! Call me Cornelius," he said, taking a card from Dumbledore's grandfatherly display, even if he looked a little bit wary of this 'contract' Harry just mentioned.
"Thank you…Cornelius. As I said, since my talent in Runes has been recognized by the goblins, I was hired to upgrade the security system of Gringotts. Our money is safer than it's ever been. I got them to agree to our little project too, and they'll get to work on it as soon as the plans are finished."
This news got the Minister to smile as if Christmas had come two weeks early, and he had been a good boy all year long.
"That's fantastic, Harry! For the goblins to recognize your talent, you must be quite the RuneMaster!"
"It is, indeed; that's why they use the title 'Master Potter' for me. I don't mind making a small press appearance at a later date, if the goblins agree. We could inaugurate this upgrade in front of the media. However, we have a darker…more private subject to discuss today. That's the reason I asked for a private talk."
The official leader of the British Wizarding World was giving him all his attention.
"The populace might find it strange that, after the official return of Voldemort, there has been no significant increase in death Eaters activity except for the massive breakout from Azkaban. No-one has been arrested either. But they are still out there, planning and plotting our downfall, and the fall of the Ministry, so they can rise to power. They are gathering their troops and making alliances in the shadows. We can't let them crawl around in the dark unopposed. We can't let them think that since they are hiding, they are safe. We have to do something. Something drastic."
"We…cannot possibly…put an innocent in prison now. Not after what happened with your own godfather," Fudge said tentatively.
"Of course not!" replied Harry.
"Of course not!" repeated Fudge, glad to have played it safe.
"We have to fake the death of a dark wizard that is already dead, but hasn't been made public," stated Harry.
Fudge was no fool. That was a good plan, but what would Potter get out of it?
"The hands of your Aurors will remain clean," Harry kept on. "The official story is going to be this: the falling of a powerful ward got the attention of an Auror patrol. The house will be that of a dark wizard who has just died. Your Aurors would find the dead man and evidence of his Dark activities. They are going to surprise a figure dressed like the Grim Reaper, departing the scene of the crime. The dead wizard will be unrelated to the present Dark Lord, but you're going to depict this as a resumption of dark activities."
"You've got it all figured out," said Fudge, frowning.
"I planned most of this to happen. Don't worry. Your Aurors will see this Grim Reaper."
"Who will that be?" asked Fudge, guessing the answer.
"I told you. The Grim Reaper. You'll call him that. Don't bother with anything else."
Fudge realized that Harry had become a bigger player in the game than before.
"And where is your name going to be in all of this?" asked Fudge, dubious.
"Nowhere. That's essential. My name or even mention of me must be nil."
The Minister thought about all of this. He would get the credit while somebody else would do the job, whoever did it.
"Okay. We'll do it like that. When?"
"Tonight around ten. The house will be in the middle of London. Close enough to scare people, while comforting them that they are indeed protected. Make the Aurors patrol the eastern sections, and be wary of wards. Don't tell them any more than is necessary. Make the order come from someone else. Hide the body. Tell the press it was confiscated by the Unspeakables for further examination."
"Don't worry. We have a place where we can dispose of things when we do not want them found ever again in the heart of the Ministry. It's already eight thirty. You'd better get back to school. Your curfew is at ten I believe?"
"Exactly. Thank you Cornelius, and good night."
It was ten o'clock. Harry was waiting, in full Grim Reaper attire, his scythe in hand. He wore his invisibility light leather armor and what looked like a dementor's cloak. In a costume party contest, no-one would have voted for him. They would have fled for their lives. Thankfully he had had a growth spurt over the summer, since a Grim Reaper of five feet and four inches tall would not be quite so persuasive…
He saw, from the top of the house he was standing on, what must be the patrolling Aurors, two blocks away. If they could have seen him from there, they might have found it strange to see the Grim Reaper spying on them with binoculars.
He jumped down from his higher perch and put his binoculars away. He came down the stairs two at a time, taking care not to trip on his cloak. He took a deep breath, and put a finger on a rune carved into the wall. "It's Showtime," he whispered.
The overload he put into the rune fried the array, crashing all the wards down. He waited. Two minutes later, running steps were heard. Two Aurors, wands in hand, rushed in, sweeping the rooms with their magical weapons. They didn't have to go far. The sight in the living room would be enough to fuel their irrational fears for years to come.
An old man, dead, with opened eyes in a shocked face, was lying on the carpet in a pool of blood. Another man stood over him, looking calmly at the corpse. He raised his head toward the newcomers and the two poor Aurors began to shake madly. It wasn't every day you could take a look at Death.
"F-freeze! D-don't move!" said the first man, terrified.
The Grim Reaper, his job done, turned away and began to walk. The second Auror threw a stunner, which was lazily deflected by the scythe. The Grim Reaper went into another room. The Aurors ran after him. He had disappeared.
Harry got back to his feet in his private room at Gringotts. He got out of his attire and put it all in a big, strong duffel bag. A goblin knocked once on the door and entered. He wordlessly took the bag from Harry's hands.
"Your carving clothes will be washed, Mr. Potter. You can leave your…tools… here if you wish. This room is yours, and has been warded by yourself."
He left as simply as he had entered, leaving a stunned Harry with his Death Scythe in his hands.
'Well,' thought Harry. 'This may not be the bat-cave, but I bet Batman didn't have a green Alfred!'
The Prophet, the next morning, was sold out. Everybody wanted a copy of the article about the Grim Reaper. The Aurors needed no help from anyone to call him that. The discovery of a dark wizard in the middle of London did frighten many, but his sudden death at the hands of this mysterious entity was greatly overshadowing that small detail. Harry read over Hermione's shoulder, feigning great interest.
A drawling Draco walked passed him, leaving a single commentary.
"You're not even quoted, Potter. Already out of the limelight?"
"He can have it all!" yelled Harry to a departing Draco.
Harry forced himself to talk about it when the subject came up in conversation, saying how dangerous he must be, to escape two Aurors while under their fire without breaking a sweat. Harry nodded to Mr. Tank when he arrived in his classroom for History class, the latter looking at him intently.
Once the students had settled, the History teacher began his lecture, very seriously. There were no surprise guests today.
"Since everybody seems inclined to talk about dark wizards, we'll have it as today's subject. Harry, what is the common trait of all the Dark Lords through the ages?"
Harry didn't even have to think about the answer.
"They were all killed or vanquished, either by the forces of Light or by one of their ambitious minions."
"Correct. Twenty points for Gryffindor."
Harry was shaking hands with Riplock before the flashes of the cameras. The small crowd, in which was the Minister, clapped politely. The announcement of permanent upgrades in Gringotts' security was welcome good news. To learn that they were put in place by the Boy-Who-Lived himself was as much of a relief as a surprise. His prowess the year before hadn't gone unnoticed or forgotten. People remembered the dragon he had bested – the very same one that seemed to be following him around on Hogwarts grounds when he went to take a walk. The Prophet writers were convinced this was not a fluke. The boy had it. The readers simply believed what those expert reporters wrote. Which was, for once, the truth.
Today, the reporters wanted more than this news to puff up their sales. They asked for the cost of those upgrades, but Harry refused to give details. He simply said he'd never seen so much gold in his vault. That sent people laughing, taking notes to quote him in their article. Harry didn't see the need to tell them he had received a weapon able to challenge Gryffindor's sword in brute power, in exchange for the wards. Nope, no need at all.
Professor Dumbledore made a short speech about encouraging youth's talents, and made a small mention of the 'Potter fund for unfortunate kids', using the profits of his Projection Room at Hogwarts. The Minister clapped once again but seemed…wary, again…of Harry's new feat.
"Well, now, Mr. Potter! You're on your way to being a great figure in the Magical World! You already are, in fact. Are you going to break a new record and try to become the youngest Minister in history when you turn seventeen?" asked an all-too-sweet Rita Skeeter.
"Why wait that long?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.
The crowd of reporters and officials laughed heartily, this time, over his last reply. Harry took a bit of his seriousness back and resumed talking to Rita, even if the Minister felt that the words were directed at him.
"I'm sorry, but I'll leave that job for people more experienced in the political game. I'm not patient enough to handle such a position. I intend to be a simple RuneMaster, who makes the average wizard's life a little easier with affordable inventions, and a little funnier world with prank material I was hired to design for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."
Polite laughter this time. The Minister recovered his smile. Of course, Harry knew he would have to clarify his position in private. He could not have Fudge planning his fall behind his back. He simply had to convince him that he'd rather target the huge income of money instead of political influence and power. After all, he was already friends with the current Minister of Magic…
Two hours later, Harry walked alongside Fudge into the Ministry building. They went into a private conference room where more people were awaiting them. Fudge took a seat at the end of the table. Harry took a simple seat on the side. Miss Hopkirk, of the Underage Magic Department was on his right. The wizard responsible for the Floo network was facing Harry, and Riplock was at his side.
"You have me intrigued, Mr. Potter," said Fudge. "Once more. The recent events were most surprising. I never expected such an alliance with the noble goblin nation," he stated, bowing his head toward Riplock.
In the dry way of his kind, Riplock simply stated, with a small nod: "You are quite right, Minister. The goblin nation will support Mr. Potter in all his actions, seeing that his motives are quite profitable to us and have already been lucrative."
Harry thanked Riplock before gaping faces all around. They had all half-expected the goblin to deflect the subject at best, or even to straight out deny this. They had always been neutral at the very most!
"Minister," began Harry. "I am here today to ask for the Ministry's help. I want some actions to be approved by you personally, but that would only be revealed at the last possible moment."
"What you're asking for is very dangerous for…the Ministry, Harry. We cannot afford to lose any credit or the people's confidence at this point. They must feel safe," said Fudge, as diplomatically as ever.
"That goes without saying, Minister," answered Harry. "But what better way for people to feel safe than by actually being safe? If the number of dark manifestations, already low, is reduced to next to nothing, and any Death Eaters are captured or disposed of, without any losses on our side, they will not only feel safe, but protected. I need a few things to do just that.
"Why the secrecy then?" asked the Floo network director.
"Because most of my actions are going to offend the morals of many for being wrong, and dark. Deep inside, they'll cheer me on," said Harry. "That's why my actions can be revealed only when most of them have been completed. They might protest some, over the manner of action, but they'll be glad that the decisions have been made for them. They'll secretly admire a government with the guts to do so," Harry said with assurance.
"I can see why I'm here, Mr. Potter," said Mrs. Hopkirk with a light frown. "I see the need to have the trace on your wand removed but…"
"Yes," Harry cut her off, nodding. "The trace on my wand is a reason I asked for you to be here, Mrs. Hopkirk. I need an official discharge of the underage tracker. It will be up to you to find a loophole in the legislation to amend that. Since we began with this matter, let's pursue it."
The ministry administrator frowned. How dare this young man think that he could boss her around? Hell! That demand sounded more like an order!
"As you all well know, I now have Voldemort's wand," said Harry, showing it for everyone to see.
People around the room shivered as much from the name as from the sight of that wand, which had killed so many.
"What you have to ask yourself is: who is using Harry Potter's still-tracked wand right now?" he asked, knowing the answer was kind of obvious.
Mrs. Hopkirk put a hand over her mouth at the implication. How could she have missed this? Everybody else had wide eyes, while Riplock simply smiled. This young man was good at business. He knew when to take control with one well-placed bomb.
"I see you have made the connection, Mrs. Hopkirk. I'll need you, or someone of confidence, to check on my record since the end of last year. Any use of magic from Tom Riddle should have been recorded. The only reason you are not missing any owls right now is because Voldemort must be behind wards that prevent them from getting to him. Though I would like to see his face, receiving an owl stating he can never set foot in Hogwarts again because of underage magic…"
The joke was lost as everybody else was too absorbed by the serious matter. Too bad.
"We have to monitor the spells cast with his wand with great attention. It could give us an indication of his next move. And of when he leaves the wards," Harry said clearly.
Mrs. Hopkirk could only nod dumbly. Why hadn't they thought of this yet? Probably because they were too afraid to spy on Voldemort. As though he could reach them through the scroll where the 'infractions' would be inscribed!
"Now, to the matter of the Floo network," the young Gryffindor kept on, turning toward the representative of that branch of the ministry. "I need a few places linked. A private fire that would allow only certain people to pass. I need a connection to the Hogwarts groundskeeper's hut. I need you to design a special Floo powder, too."
The representative was all business, and didn't waste time in protestation over Harry's right. If there had been anything wrong with his request, the Minister would say so.
"Private, password-coded fireplaces are an easy way to solve your problem. What do you need the powder to do?"
"I need one able to force-Floo someone into somewhere that is protected by such a private password-coded fireplace, but that are known by the Ministry to exist."
The man looked at him seriously.
"What you're asking is onerous and akin to property trespassing," he stated.
"Can you do it?" simply asked Harry.
The Floo network director turned toward his boss, Minister Fudge, who was glad to be given a word in all of this. He simply nodded. The director turned back toward Harry.
"We'll do what we can."
"Excellent. Mrs. Hopkirk. Let me give you this," said Harry, handing her a small mirror. "It's a two-way mirror," said Harry without missing a beat. "I'll keep the other one on me at all times. Contact me at any sign of a located spell cast by my wand."
Mrs. Hopkirk took the mirror and put it carefully in her purse. This being said and done, Harry turned back toward Cornelius Fudge.
"Minister. You should propose a new law stating that anyone conclusively convicted of supporting a dark-oriented organisation, will be condemned to life imprisonment in Azkaban, or death; and shall have their monetary funds and property…"
Cornelius' smile grew. Yes! He would finally pass that law that would fill the Ministry's chest to the brim!
"…confiscated, to support the repairs to the collateral damage this war will bring. To aid the families of the fallen and restore the public and private properties that might be destroyed," finished Harry, frowning as he saw Fudge's smile disappear.
Riplock took great pleasure in speaking his view on the matter.
"Since the users of those funds won't have the opportunity to spend it ever again, I guess this is doable. We'll consider them as deceased, and apply standard Will procedure for the succession. If the users had no direct family, then the contents of the vault would go directly to fund those stated measures. Giving it to one person or organisation would be unthinkable, as it would side the Goblin Nation to the party to whom we would grant access to that money. Allowing it to be used by the whole Wizarding society, of which the goblins are, of course, part, is acceptable," finished Riplock, grinning.
The Minister seemed to swallow something rather nasty. Harry smiled, taking back control.
"Isn't it impressive? To see such involvement of the Goblin Nation in a united society should strengthen our bond as a whole! It would alleviate the burden on Ministry resources to repair everything Tom Riddle breaks in his little pureblood tantrums."
Harry was having so much fun, making Voldemort sound like a petulant child.
"I guess we all know what to do now," said Fudge, getting up.
Hands were shaken, sealing the decisions made. Walking back toward the Floo fires in the main hall of the Ministry building with Harry, Riplock spoke without turning his head.
"You know, never before have the goblins, even remotely, been part of Wizarding society."
"Wouldn't you like to put all of those wars behind you, to mingle more amongst humans? For business? For entertainment? To have shops in Diagon Alley like anyone else could? To offer an opportunity to younger wizards to understand you? It all has to start somewhere…" Harry mused out loud, pictures running in his head of a world where he could buy an ice cream from a goblin in the street.
"It has… the merit of being considered," admitted Riplock. "Tell me, were you serious when you said you don't want to run for the Minister's job once you turn seventeen? We may not have voting rights in your government, but we can influence the choice of the population. Say… by hinting that with you in charge, we would feel more confidence, and would lower the interest on mortgages and loans for a house by one percent? Believe me, you would reach the thirty-five percent vote on that alone…"
Harry smiled widely. Didn't the saying go, "Only fools never change their minds?"
"It has…the merit of being considered…" he answered, taking a fistful of Floo powder.
Harry, as he often did, went to see Sweetie that evening. Harry was amazed at her intelligence. It was truly midway between a human and a dog. He didn't feel her presence in the back of his mind or anything of the sort. The female dragon hadn't learned to speak, and neither of them could read minds. He didn't spend hours trying to tame her to learn tricks and bind her actions to his will. She simply…understood when he spoke. She understood when he told her that he didn't like what she just did, and that she'd better never do it again. A simple pressure from his leg sufficed in flight to indicate where he wanted her to go. She had never mistaken him adjusting his position for an order yet. They could simply read each other. Harry found that to be utterly cool. He was getting to be best friends with a dragon, knowing exactly when to scratch her on the snout to make her purr like a V-eight engine. She wasn't a fire-breathing monster anymore. She was his Sweetie, with a protective streak.
Hagrid was never happier to be the groundskeeper. He even integrated Sweetie into his course, with Harry's help of course. There was no sense in taking risks. He learned at least that with the Buckbeak episode.
Harry decided he would go flying a while with his pet, and let her snack on a secondary spider nest that had been biting the centaurs' butts from too close lately. He had Luna with him, who was eager for a romantic spider hunt on the back of a ferocious dragon with her boyfriend. Harry didn't doubt the attraction that power had on women anymore. Until now, it had served him well. If Luna got a kick out of it, all the better!
Luna had been introduced to Sweetie for a while now. Her total lack of fear helped her quite a lot to be accepted by Harry's pet. Luna went to Sweetie, scratching her neck, asking her if she was hungry and itching for a flight. She let out a happy roar, stomping lightly, two legs at a time, bouncing like a puppy.
"Harry! Hi ther'! Do ya have a secon'?" asked Hagrid, coming out of his hut at the noise.
"Sure do, but let's make it quick, Sweetie seems eager for a ride."
Hagrid turned his back to the castle and handed Harry a brown, unmarked envelope.
"Someone told me to give you that. He insisted that I not tell you that it was him that gave this to you…That he gave it to me to pass it on to you…anyway. He said you'd reckon it's from him. If you don't, I'm still ready to tell ya," he finished in a whispered tone of voice.
Harry opened the envelope. It was a simple sheet with a drawing and names. Two circles were around the form of a dark skull, made of two long, twisting snakes. There was a smaller circle in the middle of the bigger one. Harry recognized the names written all around the small circle.
Severus Snape
Lucius Malfoy
Barty Crouch Jr.
Bellatrix Lestrange
The outer circle had many more names.
McNair
Crabbe
Goyle
Rookwood
Pettigrew, who escaped Azkaban at the same time as Bellatrix.
Stan Shunpike? The Knight Bus helper?
And many more…
That was crystal clear. The inner and outer circle of Voldemort's followers. There were notes on some, describing them as ministry workers, like the secretary of the vice-minister. A guy named Lavoy. Another was a paper-pushing Auror named Turner. Another, Welch, was…oh shit. Working at the R&D section of regulation of the Floo network. Harry never saw any need to give a two-way mirror to the Floo Director. His own mirror was rune-controlled to be able to receive calls from multiples sources, like Mrs. Hopkirk, Mrs Weasley, Dumbledore, Sirius, Hermione and Luna. Now he wished he had given one to the Director. He would have to go and give one to him in person tomorrow. The spy must know of the project already. He couldn't be excluded from it or it would look suspicious. They would have to plan for him to be somewhere else when the testing phase was near. They couldn't have that project fall into Voldemort's hands! The fireplace that would be placed in Hagrid's hut was scheduled for installation in only two days! He would have to skip classes tomorrow.
Welch would have to be the first real target of the Grim Reaper. It unsettled him, realizing he would finally dirty his hands.
"So...do you know who sent this to you?" asked Hagrid, looking eager to tell.
"Yes. I know. Thanks Hagrid."
Oh yeah, he knew. Who else but Draco? He had done a tremendous job. He gave him targets. Luna, followed by Sweetie, walked up to him. His pet moaned, feeling the mood of her master.
"What's the matter, Harry?" asked his girlfriend, concerned.
"Reality won't give me a break. That's what," he answered, his head low.
He turned toward his pet who looked at him with her version of the puppy eyes. Anyone else might have mistaken it for a death stare.
"I guess you'll have to give us quite a ride to distract me, Sweetie…" Harry said, smiling sadly.
Moments later, a few students looking over the forest saw a dark form, as fast as a centaur's arrow, spewing fire while doing loops over the trees. Some high-pitched screams could be heard all the way to the lake.
Harry put on the last piece of his invisibility leather armor. He put on his ragged cloak, looking more ominous than ever. His personal maid was holding his scythe for him. She seemed to struggle with the weight a little. She was shaking. Looking at her face, he saw her shaking some more. It was not the effort then. Even seeing him changing, she was scared. He took his scythe with one hand, freeing her of the burden. He went to his fireplace and took out a small log, barely twice the length of his palm. This was the result of the Floo Network Research and Development team. Harry had warned the director of the department just in time. The spy was an active part of the project, the 'Breaker Log'. It was a form of compressed, magically charged Floo powder. It created a bigger fire that would burn stronger as the log would take more time to consume – at least ten to fifteen seconds.
They were lucky, though. The spy wasn't aware of the designed use of the log. That would have betrayed his new persona even before he would begin to put it to use. He was blissfully unaware of Harry's private fire connection too, with the possible exception of the one at Privet Drive. That one was protected with the rest of the house, but what if Voldemort got his hands on the log? Would it still be safe? The man had to be dealt with.
Harry threw the log into his fire, talking clearly.
"Welch residence."
The fire roared to life, and didn't die down. It grew in intensity and soon, half the room was engulfed in cold flames. Ten seconds later, they turned green. The connection was established. His protections must be minimal. The Grim Reaper stepped into the fire and closed his eyes for the duration of one bumpy ride. It wasn't designed for comfort. Feeling the end of the trip, Harry simply put one foot in front of the other and calmly walked into an unknown house. He realized absently that he didn't fall in a heap like he always had. The trick was very simple. You have to walk out of the fireplace. If you stay still, it'll throw you out. As simple as that.
A man rushed into the living room, his brow furrowed, wondering who could be coming in at this hour, unannounced. Seeing the Grim Reaper, he almost peed on himself. He turned around, a look of deep panicked concentration on his face. He fell to the ground, his feet no longer attached to his body. It looked like the splinching runes on his scythe were working well. Harry got a vial out of his cloak.
Getting the recipe for veritaserum had been child's play. He only had to add a few new essences to his collection to make it. Sirius did get him most of the "unusual" ingredients on his trip to Knockturn Alley. Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror department, was made aware of Harry's 'rogue agent' status too when he requested the recipe. He seemed hesitant to let a young boy handle that kind of work, but obeyed on the Minister's order.
Approaching the man who was trying to crawl away, Harry pinned him down by stomping on his leg with the back of the blade. It looked painful. Harry was feeling sick. For now, all he saw was a ministry official trying to escape the dark creature he had become.
"P-p-please! Whatever you want, take it! Please don't kill me! Please! I'll do anything you ask!"
Harry bent over him, striking the ground at the side of Welch's head with the shadowy weapon. The man instinctively protected his face with his arm, closing his eyes. Opening them again, he looked at the vial the Grim Reaper presented him. It was crystal clear. It looked like water. He took it, his hand shaking.
"You…you want me to drink this?"
The Reaper nodded slowly.
"Is…is it poison? Will it kill me?"
The cloaked figure shook his head in negation. The man gulped, figuring he would have a better chance at living if he'd obey. He closed his eyes and downed the content of the vial. He was soon filled with calm and the pain in his legs receded. The four drops of top-quality Veritaserum in the vial made sure he wouldn't resist.
"What's your name?" asked Harry in a raspy voice.
"Tony Frederic Welch."
"What's your job?"
"Employee at the R&D section of the Floo Network."
"Are you a Death Eater?"
"Yes."
Harry paused. That was it. It was official now. He still had many question to ask though.
"Is Voldemort aware of the 'Breaker Log'?"
"Yes."
"Does he have enough information to make one?" Harry asked, growing worried.
"No."
Harry let out a shaky breath.
"Does he have any samples?"
"No."
He wasn't a minute too late. The man would have learned that the Log had been completed today, probably at his next day's work.
"Have you ever killed?" Harry asked, resuming the interrogation.
"Yes."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes!"
Harry didn't think it was possible that so much emotion could be shown after taking veritaserum. His was as pure as it could get. But even through the haze of the potion, the man seemed eager. His chances of survival were slim to none.
"Who are your…favorite targets?" asked Harry, deciding he could determine how fucked up he really was.
"Muggle men."
"Why?"
"They aren't true men. They are muggles. I like to hear their screams when I cut off their limbs, showing how helpless they are when faced with a true man."
Harry made a grimace under his mask. What a sick moron. Was that the only way this banal ministry worker could feel superior to anyone?
"What are Voldemort's plans right now?" kept on Harry.
"Preparing a massive attack, thanks to the Breaker Log."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Damn. That guy was a tool. He wasn't from the Inner Circle after all. Probably he was expecting a promotion over this. What now?
"Do you know of any spies that have been Imperiused?"
"Yes, one Percival Weasley."
That sent a chill up his back. He knew Percy had a strained relationship with his family right now. In fact, he had even moved out, and was in the process of cutting off all communication with his family. He seemed to be against most of his father's views concerning the war, being amongst the few that refused to admit the return of Voldemort. That, and the lack of ambition his father displayed. Harry now saw that the change was caused, or amplified, by an Imperius.
"Why Percival Weasley?" Harry asked the drugged man.
"He's the butt-monkey of the replacement of Barty Crouch senior. By putting some competence and ambition in his skull, he will replace his new superior when an 'accident' will happen to him."
"What else about Percy do you know?"
"He's totally unable to fight off the Imperius. To such an extent that he really thinks his actions come from his own will. He received a compulsion to get as far away from his family as possible so they don't notice, and to get some credibility amongst the higher-ranked purebloods."
"What do you know about prophecies?"
"I don't know of any."
Well, that was it. He would get nothing more from him. Harry emptied his mind, straightened his back and swung his scythe hard in front of him, blurring his vision on purpose. Even then, he could not help but look afterward. He had just chopped the guy at mouth level. The cap of the head rolled on the wooden floor ridiculously, spinning blood in its path, ending up showing the lower part of his brain. Harry turned around and went back to the fireplace. He took another small log and turned the grey ashes into a full roaring fire.
"Grim Reaper's Lair"
Then he was off. He landed in his private room in the depths of Gringotts. He put his scythe on a stand near the fireplace. Harry began to walk toward the bathroom, but finished the trip running, feeling the bile rise. Harry was thankful nobody was there to assist at the scene of the Grim Reaper being sick after his first kill.
Harry was pale the next morning. He was at the breakfast table, barely touching a hot cup of coffee. He was absorbed in a thick tome about Ancient Runes theory. So dense was the theory that no runes were even shown. It was pure concept and purpose behind a rune word. He had to find a way to do this! He didn't care if most experts said it couldn't be done! Luna looked up from her table, but didn't go to speak to him. Ron and Hermione looked at him with worry. What was wrong? After the first period, they were about to ask him plainly as he was now beginning to bump into people, so distracted was he. Of course, seeing whom they had run into, most people apologized before getting out of Harry's way, but that was not the point!
When they were about to question him about it, Luna appeared out of nowhere, walked steadily between the two of them, arms extended, grabbed them both and pushed them into a secondary corridor. They let themselves be led, more like dragged around, really curious. Luna looked so sad…and determined.
"Don't. Don't talk to him about this. Don't ask a question. Don't look like you want to know or even that there is something to know about. Be oblivious. Do this for him. He has to brood over it, to replay what happened in his head a thousand times. Then, when he's ready to crack up, that's when he'll need his friends, and his girlfriend. If we try to comfort him right now, he's going to feel guilty for not having brooded enough!"
Hermione looked at her, confused for two whole seconds. Then her eyes opened.
"He…was out late last night, wasn't he, Ron? I haven't checked the paper this morning…"
"Yeah, but what does that change?" asked Ron, as thick as ever. Then, his brain kicked in. It was a feat in itself.
"How do you know we should do it like this?" asked Hermione.
"He's the heavy guilt type. And…I know how it is to feel the burden of the death of someone," she finished, looking away.
Hermione simply hugged Luna, purely out of reflex. She felt Luna hang on to her loosely. She was only fourteen, after all. They cried silently while Ron stood aside, his back turned. He had to fight tears himself, thinking about Luna's and Harry's similar burden. He began to understand what Harry had said about him being so lucky to have his family.
At the end of the day, Harry slowly walked out of the castle, taking the path to his greenhouse. Luna was following him, not so far behind.
Ron and Hermione stayed in the Gryffindor common room. However long it would take, they would wait for him to come back. So, time began to pass.
Ten.
Eleven.
Midnight.
One.
Two.
Three.
At four in the morning, Ron and Hermione were taking turns staying awake. The portrait finally opened. And closed. Harry came out from under his cloak. Ron nudged Hermione to wake up, which she did with a start. Harry was surprised to see them both still there at this hour. His face was mostly still pale, but he had red eyes and cheeks. There were distinct signs that he had cried his eyes out for a while.
Without so much as a word, Hermione got up, went to him and pulled him into a hug. Harry wasn't surprised much. What did surprise him, though, was Ron, who put his arm around his and Hermione's shoulders, pressing his head against theirs and tightening the group hug. He set aside the macho confidence and the teen shyness at the contact of another man. They were united in support of the founding member of their small circle. They stayed like that for a while, and Harry wondered at how much he really depended on them. More then he had imagined, it seemed.
"I killed a man yesterday," he whispered, afraid to dirty them simply by uttering the words. "I just…swung my weapon and cut his head in half."
The group shuddered. Ron was the next to talk.
"Why did you kill him?"
"He was enjoying killing muggles! Dismembering them! He…"
"Then you did well," simply stated Ron, applying more pressure on Harry's shoulder. "You did well. And I could not be your friend if you reacted any other way than you did. Don't lose faith in your actions and motives. You did well."
Harry nodded, letting out a breath, shuddering. After a while, his tired legs could not support him. They moved to the sofa, breaking the circle. They talked until morning. It was only three hours away anyway. Then they went to breakfast. They didn't eat much, but Harry felt like drinking a part of the ocean. His body felt empty after shedding all those tears. They looked at the Prophet. They hadn't missed the news of the man's death. His body was found in his apartment after he had missed a day's work. They found a Dark Mark on his arm. The murder was associated with the Grim Reaper.
They went to class. Luna glued herself to Harry's side the entire day. She even missed a class to hold his hand while he was attending History of Magic. Mr. Tank, having read the paper, didn't say a thing. Or maybe it was because he didn't know all the students' faces yet, and didn't notice there was one more.
The Gryffindors knew there was something up, but they had long learned by now not to mess with Harry. His goblin contacts, his Ministry friendship, his fighting back against the Dark Lord, his magnificent Projection Room and his pet dragon were enough reminders that you didn't mess with the scarred boy.
Harry worked restlessly the next day. On the week-end, he went to the Ministry. He knew the ambitious Percy would be there, trying to prove himself worthy of a higher position. Harry's presence at the Ministry was somewhat commonplace by now. People greeted him and wished him a good day. He went directly to the Ministry Law Enforcement division. Percy was no Auror, so he had no chance of running into him. But their was still someone here who could check whether Percy's Imperius was still in place or not: the paper-pushing Auror. Harry would have to work fast and with discretion. He went to the office of Rufus Scrimgeour. He had never had the time to talk extensively with him, but he hoped he would be receptive to his plan. The Head of the Department greeted him politely, inviting him to take a seat. Harry was in no mood to beat around the bush.
"Voldemort is preparing a massive attack. He wants to access a protected place by using the 'Breaker Log'. His plans were thwarted since the Grim Reaper got the spy, and managed to get from him that he didn't have the time to deliver it to his Dark Lord. Tom will find another way, that's for sure. The Grim Reaper learned that someone in your department is keeping an Imperius on another rising Ministry worker."
"Who?" simply asked Scrimgeour, sounding alarmed.
"Percival Weasley. He cannot fight the Imperius at all, it seems. We cannot confront him right after this visit, or someone might make the connection of how we found out about this. He must be given the means to fight back himself."
"What do you propose?" asked the Head Auror, guessing that Harry wouldn't have come there without some kind of plan. He wouldn't have gotten Fudge in his pocket so easily if he was all empty talk.
Harry made sure no-one could see him through the windows of the office.
"They are charmed not to show anyone inside," the Ministry official assured him.
Harry took a small parcel from a pocket and handed it to him. Rufus opened it and found what look like a thin leather armband with a single symbol on it.
"That's the sign of the Law Enforcement Inspectors. Why on an armband? And where did you learn of that symbol at all?" asked the confused official.
"Tell Percy that he needs experience in the field. Tell him this band will give him the temporary authority of an Inspector, and to keep it hidden except in case of necessity. He'll never let go of it. On the other side are carved a set of runes. The Imperius can only be stopped by the mind of the victim. That armband can't block it, but it will drain the pressure on the attacked mind, and let him keep his will and self-awareness. It will give him a fighting chance. Since he's going to be fighting in his own mind, he should be in a position of superiority. It's going to be up to him to defend himself, faced with an angry Auror Death Eater."
"He doesn't stand a chance," said Rufus confidently, shaking his head.
"Even if it's an Auror who hasn't seen the field for more than a decade, and does paperwork all day long? Who at his age, should be retired by now? Percy is young, and spent a portion of last year at Hogwarts, getting back in touch with his fighting skills as a teacher of the DADA course."
Scrimgeour ignored the confidence in Percy that Harry had. He was solely focused on the description of the Auror Death Eater.
"You don't mean…"
"That's one arrest that you can handle without the Grim Reaper. The armband has a powered protego charm on it, triggered by the next Imperius that will be cast on its wearer. It can block up to six minor curses. Maybe two major ones if he's lucky. As usual, it's useless against any Unforgivable."
"Thank you, Harry. For helping me to make my department secure," said Rufus, sincerely.
"It's war, Mr. Scrimgeour. It's not a full-blown battle yet, but we can't let them strike first. We have to keep them unbalanced by cutting the support right from under them," Harry said, getting up. "Wait a few days. Wait until he does something worth some attention, and present this 'promotion' to him, saying that you have to recruit everybody that looks worthy. He'll never suspect a thing."
"That was exactly what I was about to do, Mr. Potter. Don't worry. I'm not exactly helpless." said Rufus, smiling.
Harry got a little red in the face.
"I didn't mean to…" Harry began to apologize.
"Save it for someone irritable. You're doing your best to prevent the worst. I can see that now. Keep up the good work. And tell this…Grim Reaper…that we found rather disturbing and disgusting evidence of Welch's Death Eater activities. He would have been condemned to the Veil anyway."
Harry nodded wordlessly and took his leave. 'One problem potentially solved,' he mused. He was gravely mistaken if he thought his day would be over so fast. He had skipped a Defense class to come here. He had to use his 'official route' to travel. The fire in Hagrid's Hut was to be used only for his Reaper activities. He managed to keep this secret from Hagrid by telling him that maybe his pet would have eggs some day…
When he got back to the castle after Flooing to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, and riding his broom from there, it was well past the start of second period. He waited for third period to return to class, but he never got there. He was pulled by an invisible force behind a suit of armor while no-one was around. He had his wand drawn even before completely disappearing from the hallway. The mysterious aggressor finally returned to the realm of the visible, looking pissed off. It was a Malfoy kind of pissed; which was fitting, since it was Draco. He looked afraid, panicked and angry. Not good. He whispered harshly, close to his face and totally ignoring the threatening wand.
"What are you doing, Potter? No sooner do you get my list, than one of them gets a new haircut at the jaw line! Is that how I'm supposed to trust you with the fact that my father is amongst them?"
"Are you traceable from that list of people?" frowned Harry.
"Of course not, dimwit! I still have my cunning ways. That is not the point! If you gave that to the Grim Reaper, he's going to kill my father!"
'So...that's what this is about,' thought Harry. Maybe he could get more out of Draco. He didn't like it, but if he played this well, they both would get something out of this.
"Your father seems to be the most hardcore Voldemort follower of them all. Quit wincing already! Learn to say his name! Or at least stop making that face when hearing it! You know, I heard your dad did some pretty bad things in the previous war…"
"It's not…like that," said Draco, turning his head to the side.
"Then how is it, Draco? He's on the Reaper's list. It's only a matter of time. To be frank, he was on his list well before you passed me that piece of paper. He got wind of the project to bring about Voldemort's return last year. Your dad had a starring role in it, remember? So what about it? Did you think your father was just an innocent victim?"
"Shut up! You just don't understand how Slytherins work!"
"Then tell me," answered Harry, getting impatient. No matter what Draco said, Lucius was at the core of this, and guiltier than most.
Draco combed his hair with a hand and took a deep breath.
"Mock me over this, Potter, and its over. I'm going to the dark side. Understood?"
Harry's eyebrow shot up, but he nodded nonetheless.
"We… are not fighters like Gryffindors," he began, unsteadily. "We are the cunning. We follow the strongest among us, the winning side. That's how we make sure of our survival: by making alliance with the strongest. We will shamelessly betray them if they prove to be losers. We don't care much for reputation. But, in a way, that's all that matter to us since we all want to become leaders. So, we're the purebloods. The influential; the rich; the nobility. From what I've gathered, it was all working pretty well until that guy came and ruined it with his totalistic ways."
Since Harry didn't say a word, only listening intently, Draco kept on, a little bit more assured.
"Guess who now has to lodge him in the most luxurious rooms of the most ancient mansions, providing exquisite food, robes and other onerous supplies? When the guy has no money at all? Who would question him? He's way too powerful. So, they all follow him, some with real zeal. He gives them the chance to realize their sadistic desires. He brings out the worst in people. Now tell me: when have you seen my father put his words into actions? I can admit it, Potter, right here and now. We, the Malfoys, are all talk. To act would mean to take responsibility, to choose a side. We don't want to! Any side we choose, we'll lose. If we go to the Ministry, taking that much money from the Dark Lord's pocket, he'll kill us all and make sure it's someone loyal to him that inherits! The Ministry is less likely to do that. That's how we came under the Death Eaters' banner. But we are not his soldiers. We're banner holders. We're holding it up, so to speak, so that our hands are too busy to do anything else. But the Dark Lord is always suspicious, and trusts nobody. So he's always demanding proof of loyalty. So, yes, my father killed. He tortured. It was him or them. He chose to save his own life."
Draco held his head high, finishing his tirade. Harry realized a little bit more of what it was like to be in the snakes' den. Only they could be proud, and hold their heads high, after saying they were bloody cowards.
"I see," Harry said, pondering. "I guess you have one last chance to save your dad."
"Which is?" asked Draco, more than a little suspicious.
"He has to turn himself in, along with your mom. I can arrange for them to be detained in secret Ministry cells, guarded by Aurors instead of rotting in Azkaban. He would have to tell all he knows. Then there would be a trial. The Ministry cells are the safest place for them right now. I can make sure they are well treated and even negotiate a pardon for cooperation and having surrendered themselves. I can deal with the Minister himself. Since you'll still be on the outside, Voldemort will keep access to his money, so he should not actively hunt them down."
"You want me to throw my parents in jail?" asked Draco, unbelieving.
"Temporarily. Do you know where the Ministry cells are?" asked Harry.
"Probably in the Unspeakable Department," shrugged Draco. "Somewhere in the Ministry building. Why does it matter?"
"Because I know you're wrong. To prevent help coming from the outside, it's protected by multiple Fidelius Charms with unknown secret keepers. I know where it is since I'm participating in its creation on a common project with the Ministry and the Goblins. I'm going to be warding it myself. Your parents won't have the stress of risking being killed by Voldemort," Harry assured him.
"Really? Is it really better to spend your life in jail? Ask your godfather!" Draco replied sarcastically.
"He was surrounded by dementors, twenty-four seven. I expect to vanquish Voldemort before I'm out of Hogwarts," said Harry confidently.
"How…How can you be so sure?" asked Draco, confused.
"Neither Tom nor I has much patience. We'll end up at each other's throats soon enough," shrugged Harry.
"You have no proof, no assurance of victory," said Draco.
"I have the Grim Reaper. From what I've heard, he won't buy your father's excuse," said Harry, thanking his stars that Draco was no Legilimens.
Draco bit his lip. He knew he could not get anything better than this deal. There was always a price to pay.
"Your position toward Voldemort will get stronger, too, as you will be the sole access to your family fortune. Be cautious. Play the survival card. Tell no lies. As you said, he always knows…"
Draco nodded.
"I'll make contact with my father. Make sure you can pull it off on your end."
Draco hurried out from behind the armor suit after disillusioning himself once again. The third class period had already begun. It was incredible to Harry how missing class seemed like an insignificant bother when he was playing with the life and death of people between periods.
A little less humor than usual, but things had to get serious somewhere. Who's going to be the Grim Reaper's next victim? Stay tuned…