Chapter 20: Grave Business
"Potter. The Headmaster summoned you to his office." Justin called him, as he went down the staircase, for Herbology. "Ok. I'll go there. Did he specify any time?"
"No, but he asked me to tell you not to cut any classes for meeting him. Good luck."
"Only me? He asked, as the boy looked down the railing of the flight above. "Yeah, only you. Not the entire school, he can do it in the feasts, can't he?" He smirked and ascended, as Harry landed at the bottom step, as he remembered. "Hey Seamus look out-"
The trick step gave way, as Seamus ended up with his shin partially buried within the wooden step. "Oww. Pick me up. Pick me-" he sighed, "Oof. That's gonna give me a scar."
Ron and Hermione had gone half an hour ago, for returning a book to the library. Harry didn't see the point of bringing back a book when at a residential school, especially when they were three corridors and a floor away from the library. They both said that they would come straight to the Herbology class before they went.
"Greenhouse II on the second row, students. We shall have to get back on some more work with those Caladrius' teardrop seeds. We started off with them last year, and sadly, your seniors have not planted them well. They won't come out of hibernation unless the malarial parasite is directly injected into them. The aleurone prevents you from selective insertion of Beesting as a needle because... anybody?"
"The aleurone layer contains thiamine." Said Harry, having looked upon to the books that Neville brought. Neville turned and smiled, as Sprout awarded ten points.
"Yes thiamine, also vitamin B1, does not allow the Bee sting of the Great Dragon Bee that we typically use for such injections. So, we use this. A muggle needle." She pulled out a pack of cardboard, marked 'Medical Supplies' or something similar.
"This is the good point of using muggle injectors. They deliver the solution directly into the seed, prompting its growth. A Caladrius, as you would study in your sixth year, is a magical seagull like being, that sits on windowsills, and cures diseases. Name a few ex- Well, come in, Miss Granger. Why are you late? Yes mister Weasley, come in, you too."
"We ran into a wrong corridor, Professor. Sorry."
"Now then. Right. The Caladrius. Pliny described it in the ancient times, and since then, there have been only a couple of sightings in the entire world, and I don't think you will find a mention of this bird even in Scamander's book. The teardrops take root immediately on exposure to disease, and we use malaria for this, as it has a perfect cure perfected by Hector-Dagworth. So, what are you all waiting for. Start up."
They started with the seeds, as Sprout handed them bowls with infected blood. She then gave them the syringes, which she called 'injectors'. The seed was hard, and she told them to first insert the needle inside, to pierce the hard layer, fill the syringe, and then start using the same hole to inject the solution.
Neville did it, and as he was about to plant it, it started sprouting. Sprout hurried to his table, as she plunged it into the soil. "The moment it sprouts, it uses up all the nutrition the seed contains. It should typically be injected while it is in the soil, but to make it easy..."
"Which dragon produces the most nutritious dung? Tell me the details, with respect to most angiosperms. Most flowers are the potent Potions ingredients, and they make up for the growing, developing part. So ignore bryophytes and gymnosperms. Just produce the essay with differentiation between the nutritional requirements of monocots and dicots. Three rolls of parchment. Submit on next Tuesday. Nah, Wednesday. I know Monday's that champion selection, so I'll give you one more day."
"Where did you two actually go? And that was a pretty lame excuse. Getting lost in a corridor?"
"It was real, Harry. We really got stuck with that..." "Oh. Stop it Ron. Harry, Ron here wrote down your and his names on prices of parchment and asked the twins to put it inside the Goblet." "Oh, I would have wanted to come! Does it have a chance of working?"
"Dunno, but it is said that restrictions on women were bypassed in the hundred and somethingth tournament by some woman enrolling by putting her name by giving it to a boy. So if it works on gender, why shouldn't it work with age?" Said Ron. "And Hermione stated that example. Don't suspect me of all this sacrilegious reading of books." They laughed, as Harry's seed withered. "Wow. You see that? It just..." "Inject and plant immediately, Mister Potter. Don't wait. It uses up all-" "-nutrition, yes, I'll do it correctly, professor."
Harry picked up another seed, as he knocked the bowl containing them. They feel down, and Harry collected them all from the ground and placed them back into the bowl. When he returned, he saw the Professor coming towards him. "How much time will they take to grow, professor? These teardrops, I mean."
"Usually they flower by winter, but I doubt if the leaves for the batch you planted will come within the year. Maybe Mister Longbottom's might come, he took the risk of injecting it while it was in the soil..."
After another half hour passed, she announced to the whole class. "Ok, round up, here. We will get these plants for the main exam, not to be planted or anything, that comes in the teacher level studies, but you might have to write the correct procedure, or to just identify the flower. See this one, here. A frozen specimen of a teardrop. Heals wounds with leaf extract, come on, note it down. Leaf extract heals wounds, burns till the second degree, nectar can be used in, well, it is a potent antidote, and can be used in sparing with a standard bezoar, except that it can heal two of the more complex poisons. One is the toxin dissolved in the essence of Simian, and the other is your homework. Find it out, and tell me for ten points. Nd no, Miss Granger. Give the others time, I know that you know this answer" she smiled, and removed her apron. "Class dismissed. Go on."
"Hey, Dumbledore wanted to meet you. We forgot. He asked you to come by yourself. Justin told us-" "Yeah, he told me too. I'll go."
Pettigrew Escapes - Fudge to step down?
-Rita Skeeter
In an incident last night, after the much awaited trial of Peter Pettigrew, where the long absent man in question was proved without doubt that he was instrumental in the murder of the Potters, in a full court of Wizengamot, the criminal has escaped custody with an accomplice, Senior Ministry employee Walden Macnair. Transportation from the Ministry of Magic to Azkaban prison was rigged by said accomplice, and two ministry officials were killed in undisclosed locations, owing to the secrecy of the location of Azkaban. With rumoured sightings of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Albania before his breakin into Hogwarts yesterday (see page 12), the wizarding community is under terror again. Pettigrew's trial was properly done, and Sirius Black attended a formal meeting with the Minister and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore during the escape. The Dark Mark was said to be cast at the unspecified location.
People are insisting that Cornelius Fudge step down from his position for letting Pettigrew escape, and Albus Dumbledore had expressed his concerns over the former matter, for Pettigrew locked up in safer locations. A Ministry official, who asked to remain anonymous, has quoted "Fudge has been a good leader for peaceful times, but dark times call for more powerful rulers." Lucius Malfoy, senior Ministry worker, and member of the Wizengamot said "It is better to plan out our course of action before rash decisions. Peace must always be considered before waging outright war against the Dark-Lord."
A public statement shall be released this evening by the Minister Of Magic in the confines of the Ministry.
Harry climbed the staircases. They had another half hour before History of Magic.
The gargoyle moved to the same password. He climbed up the spiral staircase, and when he stood on the Headmaster's carpet, he knew he was bound to get a surprise. The surprise jumped on top of him, licked his cheeks, and then transformed to a man, grinning, while Harry stumbled to his foot, and got up. "Sirius!"
They hugged, as Dumbledore smiled sadly. His eyes looked sleepy. Sirius poured a cup of tea for all three of them as they sat down in the couches near the entrance. "Harry! How are you? Good to be a free man again. I feel good."
They discussed a full ten minutes about the trial, and in the end, Sirius stretched his arms out, and exclaimed.
"Ah, Freedom suits me. Even with..." "What? Even with?"
"Ah, Harry. It is a news that is unfortunate, especially at this moment of happiness. Wormtail escaped captivity. He was freed by Walden Macnair, who worked as an executioner and prison warden for this term." "They take shifts to be Azkaban's prison warden." Sirius explained.
"They sent him via the usual method, the black carriage, and the black boat. He was intercepted at some moment, where the Dark Mark was cast, and two of the other guards involved in transportation were killed. The Ministry is investigating on that matter, and with whatever that prophecy said, I find this not much of a surprise."
"What prophecy? Am I missing something here?"
"It was a prophecy made the day when Pettigrew escaped. It stated that he would be instrumental in the return of will have to discuss more of it later, though."
Harry looked at them "Why did they do the transportation at night though? Couldn't they wait till day?"
"It has been usual practice. I was transported in night too, if I remember that right. Enough of that hellhole. Let's talk fun. When are you coming to live with me? I'm gonna refurbish my old home. Will he be able to?" He asked, looking at Dumbledore.
"He needs to be with his blood relatives for protection, Sirius. He would have to spend at minimum a month per year to have the protection... say, renewed. Seeing as he does not visit them during Christmas and the Easter breaks, he can come to your home for that time. But I suggest you have a good time in the muggle and the wizarding world, and merge more with people. Times are changing. Better get our dosage of comfort and fun before we are shut down to our homes."
"Anyways. Don't worry about Pettigrew, Sirius. Don't go on chasing for him, or anything stupid."
"What? You are the hero, Harry. You are the one with the saving people thing. With what I've heard, you seem to behaving quite a bit of a complex." Sirius giggled, as Harry asked. "What did they give you in return for all that accusations?"
"Quite a bit of gold. And now I can spend it too."
" So, can I go to Sirius' house during Christmas?" "Not this year, Harry. This year you have the Yule Ball, and I think Sirius would like to attend it too?" He looked questioningly at Sirius. "Who are coming? The 'Sisters?"
"We planned for them yes, but to keeping secrets, our ministry has been woefully bad. With the leak of the original plans, after we scrapped off a task with the merfolk, we had to reshape the entire model. We sent out for a different set of singers. With Harry here, and I am attempting a mischievous smile, m'boy, I am not going to tell you."
"Too bad. I would have come if it were the sisters. Their hit single was 'Pacman died'. That one blew up the charts, try hearing it, Harry. You have a radio in the common room, don't you?"
"Sherbet Lemons, you two?" Dumbledore stuck out a bowl that looked vaguely similar to the one that he carried to the evening feasts, before the other schools came. "I'll take one. I would hate to let you eat those beauties all by yourself." Said Sirius, as he grabbed three.
"Ah, aren't you late for History of Magic? Go to your classes, Harry. It wouldn't do well to miss a single class, especially of fascinating history."
Harry suppressed a laugh, as he waved bye to Sirius, and worded the bye to Dumbledore. "With Binns still teaching, your choice of words still amuses me, Dumbledore. Fascinating, huh?" They both broke into laughter, as Harry went down.
They kneel in front of me. I torture them both. They had forgotten me. I had called for them, going to the risk of getting into the body of the Ministry wizard in the caravan to Azkaban. The dementors cannot stand the temptation of having a free soul in front of them. They would have consumed mine, and without a proper body to hide the scent, Azkaban would have been very dangerous, dangerous indeed.
Pettigrew crawls to the front. "Your wand, My lord. I have safeguarded it for all these years. I knew the Weasley's house, or Hogwarts would have been very bad sites to hide it, so I kept it in a very safe site. The fools at the ministry did not check me for magical residue, for in luck, I have stitched the shrunken wand of my Lord to my leg. I shall give it to you, my lord. Ma hair, could you, could you cast a painkilling charm on my leg? Here."
Yuck. My Yew wand, in the flesh of Pettigrew? This man was paranoid.
"'Analga'" cast Macnair, as Pettigrew takes a breath. He takes the wand from Macnair and cuts his shin on the front. Blood starts to flow, but he picks up the twig, and cast a stitch, shabby but effective for the time duration. He picks the bloodied wand, engorges it, and touches its holding end to his eyes with reverence.
"I do not have a proper body. My wand shall have to be carried by you, Pettigrew. I had the copy of the ritual required to get me a body, but I lost it in the old body I inhabited. I know of the ritual, and you will have to perform it to raise me to life. But that is final. I would first want a hominid body, for the ritual requires me to form the Notochord with the CSF. Mac air. Transport yourself to a safe site we used in Scotland. I had organised meetings during the shutdown of 1975, remember? Pettigrew Apparation got over such distances will be recorded. Daylight will be our bane. We should seek refuge in places that protect your identity. I believe even the darkest corners of the wizarding world would now be searched for plucking us for me there. I shall have to check a place. Again."
I fly, the air my medium, while they Apparate, side along.
Little Hangleton.
Bertha would surely have informed Dumbledore of this specific site. She knew my plan of making 7 horcruxes, but it mattered not, for I have been crumbled too much. Maybe I will, into the future, but I am no prophet. I seek to conquer the present.
The knowledge that Dumbledore and the ministry know of this site, would surely hinder my access to the Gaunt shack, but I had different plans. The graveyard behind the Riddle manor had hosted my father's corpse. The old Transfiguration master might get hold of that parchment with the potion making recipe, but nobody was fast enough to accomplish such a feat of doing everything within a day.
I reach the manor. The weather is cold, slightly humid, and I remember that the potion had to be made in a medium where the humidity was high in the air. Winter it was, then. The old Scotland farmhouse, would be perfectly suitable for making the potion.
I weave through the broken floorboards, passing the grey fog that doused the evening. It had darkened, with impending rain. The sun was visible within clouds, darkening by the minute. I assume a shell, covering my formless being with a slight viscous feel. It was the effect of using horcruxes. After your soul was split, you become... your soul discovers the need to... be self sufficient. To make up, for all costs, because this body, this man, has to cope up with the part that he has. So this hardened soul, poetically, accepts the other horcruxes, while succumbing to mortal feelings of remorse, and gains all the optional extras that were locked out due to the average soul's laziness. I had gained whatever additional is possible from adding a new soul to oneself.
So, naturally, I wished for what your average invisible man wishes for. To become visible. I use this force to wrap me, appearing as a humanoid shape. I know that the body I shall get from the old potion will just be a homunculus, with no features resembling my old handsome look. Maybe if I were reborn with replacing the snake venom in the list of ingredients, I may have a better visage. A suitable replacement might be beetroot juice (Yes, the author has read Asterix and the Black Gold, thanks for asking).
The only jubilance I feel was the return of my wand. Though the means were a bit disgusting for the class I maintain to my persona, my wand had opened to me my old self, the Dark-Lord the world feared. I had dreams of getting a new wand nightmares in which the wand didn't chooses me, and weird fantasies of obtaining the mythical Deathstick... well, you get the point.
Tom Riddle's grave. I stop by the side, looking at the weathered tombstone. Fifty one years had passed. The rain starts, and I look like a disillusioned man, with the water tumbling off from where my shoulders should have been.
My 'hand' touches the tombstone. I feel it. I might require one more horcrux to actually touch it, but the very definition of feel, felt fulfilled.
I plunge my hand below the soil. I had the strength, I knew it. I punched through the coffin too. I touch the sternum. The recipe requested a long bone, freshly picked. I know I will not be able to cast a spell for determining the hierarchy, but I also know, that this corpse had to be protected from Dumbledore at any cost. Assuming horcruxes failed.
I visualise the Dark Mark. I call, as the two idiots appear. It had worked. The protean charm had actually accepted my modification of specificity.
"Pull out the corpse out of this tomb. I believe the grandfather might suit. Cut open the other side, but place it back as it is."
Later, when it had started to truely become night, they complete the job. I stay invisible, my voice guiding them. "Pick the thigh bone out. Not that one, my father's thigh bone, you.." Imbeciles.
"Dig out a section of the ground.. over there. Cast the anti-summoning ward. Cast the charm that makes it escapes notice. Along with some kind of mild dog repellant."
This serves dual purposes. Backup, for one. And if Dumbledore pokes his nose over here, he would find my father without a bone. That might cause an anticipatory response from him, but let him get worried.
"You told us to come there. And we felt the mark burn, my lord. We were waiting for your arrival."
"Very well. Let's go there."
One ingredient down, three to go.
More reviews, please.
And the trial ended in that chapter itself, Son of Whitebeard. That Elphias talking with Dumbledore scene was placed when the trial was coming to an end. Or if you meant a scene with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Fudge, I'm sorry that I couldn't include it here.