Magicks of the Arcane
Chapter XX
Grimmauld Place – 21. November 1995
He looked out of the window, observing the falling snow. War, even one fought in the shadows, made people weary of it after a short while. All prideful thoughts vanished, all images of glorious battle were left behind, shattered in pieces, and the notion of death defying maneuvers became ridiculous. It took only a few months until he was truly sick of it, hoping for an end to the madness that – unknowing to the general population of magical Britain – had engulfed them all.
Harry felt the stress mounting with each passing day, and it didn't fill him with confidence that they weren't even in a real state of war with only a few people knowing of Riddle's return.
Soon, oh so very soon, the hammer would fall and when it did... Britain would be left in turmoil, not just the magical part, but the mundane world too. And it made him sick, knowing that the atrocities he had already witnessed in the past few weeks would continue on a much larger scale.
People were blind not to see the subtle clues Riddle had left already, but as he learned, fear was a potent reason for denial. Very potent, and very deadly. And for all their ignorance, all their seemingly inherent stupidity, none of them deserved to die; their behavior might be a crime against logic, but the punishment shouldn't be a sudden death at the hands of a truly unsuspected aggressor.
All the more was it vital to take away their blinders – if possible without alerting the minister of it – and all the more did it sting that the Order's campaign to subtly reveal Riddle's continued existence had failed. Just the mentioning of a resurgence of dark wizards had sent the people running to the ministry, seemingly none of them able to think for themselves, and in the end, all it did was alerting people like Fudge and Lucius of the fact that someone had tried to manipulate the papers.
It resulted in nothing less than a complete takeover of the prophet by Malfoy.
He had sat his OWLs at that time – three of his NEWTs too – so that he could legally use magic as a fully recognized member of society. It hadn't been easy, not too hard either; in fact, he'd been rather disappointed by the apparently exhausting exams. Hermione would probably have had a fit if she knew that he had compromised his education like this, but in the end it didn't matter. For a fee, he could always retake his tests after the war.
Sheltered at Grimmauld Place, and obliviously training, he had only noticed that something went wrong when the mood in the headquarter suddenly turned solemn. Riddle had been active, more active than Harry would have imagined him to be, and although the beast remained hidden behind a veil of secrecy, for those that knew what to look for it was painfully obvious that he was back.
Pureblood agenda was rammed through the Wizengamot in wild abandon, spearheaded by Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson. The werewolves of Britain suddenly fought among themselves, a situation akin to a civil war. Famed Vampire strongholds were raided only to be found empty – the night stalkers had vanished without a trace. An overzealous Dementor kissed a guard of Azkaban; it seemingly was an accident. Dozens of foreign wizards suddenly decided that Britain would make a suitable home.
And when Malfoy had done it, when the bastard had completely bought the prophet – with the minister's approval no less – Sirius had decided that enough was enough. More and more the man had involved himself in the dealings of the Order. And Dumbledore, he had let him. It seemed as if the headmaster was glad that someone from the younger generation had stepped up to take the reigns, leaving him the time to focus on Riddle's soul jars.
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. Dumbledore truly had handed over the reigns of the Order, but before he did so, the headmaster had made one last, nonnegotiable, demand: whatever the pair of Mad-Eye and Sirius cooked up, Harry was to be left out of it.
It had made him angry, oh so very angry, and for minutes he had raged at the headmaster, threw accusations at his head of falling back into old patterns that were better left behind. And he ranted, and he raged, furiously spitting vitriol about controlling old men. He had desperately wanted to fight against Riddle, if only to prove his worth to himself – and being left out of the Order would have seriously hindered him.
And Dumbledore had sat in a chair, silently taking the verbal abuse, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Harry, what the two of them will do, is completely militarizing the Order. I am not omniscient, but that much is clear. You, however, for all the good you could do under the command of your godfather, have a different destiny. And although I do not want to marginalize the burdens others have to bear... you, and you alone, will play the most important role in Tom's vicious game of violence.
He hadn't understood, had asked for clarification, and the answer he got had sent shivers down his spine. For months he had lulled himself in a protective bubble, thinking about the war in general, but not about his personal place in it. He had blinded himself just as much as the very people he condemned for their ignorance.
You are chosen by fate, Harry. You might not like it, even detest it, but every choice you make, every time you make a decision, it will impact on all of us. There are no choirs of holy angels and trumpets, when a man's destiny is made known. The truth is silent, but no less important: in the end, you will be the one to fight Tom.
The words had hit him like a bludger, and despite knowing that they were the truth, he had desperately argued against them.
Maybe it is the nature of strong willed men, that we do not take kindly to destiny, do not submit to fate. But even if you rebel against it with all your being, Tom will not. He will find you, no matter which place on earth you hide in, and he will attempt to destroy you. I swore to you, at the end of last year, that I would do anything to help you, to give you an edge, and I will uphold my oaths.
How then? How could he learn what he needed to kill the beast, if he wasn't an official part of the very group that had sworn to defeat Riddle? And again, the headmaster had smiled, eyes glinting with pride, but also a small amount of mischief.
The Order will become strong, I can feel it in the very air. But you – you will become even stronger. Sirius and Alastor will train up an incredible task force, soldiers that will stand united against the dark... Tom, however, is not a simple soldier and thus will not be defeated by one. Let me borrow some muggle terms, Harry. You will need to be something else – a tank, a bastion, maybe a warhead even.
I hate adulation for my achievements just as much as you, and I disgust me for saying it, but the adulation is merited in some ways – because despite the Order's strength, I am the only one who can teach you what you need to know.
When we traversed Turkey, I told you that other countries weren't concerned about Tom; maybe it was foolish to do so, even if it was the truth. Please, do not think him harmless because of that, or assume that he lacks in power for I can assure you that is folly. Tom is cunning, shrewd and intelligent – he knows that he does not stand a chance against the might of other countries. They do not worry, because he leaves them alone, not because he is lacking as a wizard. Truly, there are very few people who can hope to match him.
And for you to beat him – forgive my callous words – you need to rise above the rest.
Dumbledore had given him a few minutes to recover from the impact of his words and then proceeded to lay all the cards on the table. No secrets, no omissions, a direct plan of action instead that detailed the next steps they'd take.
The minister is, for all his faults, no fool. But he is corrupted and when the old blood that bought him his election started to demand my retirement, he was quick to act, setting plans in motion that would achieve his aims – or rather the aims of Lucius. I am sure that by now you've heard quite the rumors about the newest defense teacher at Hogwarts; a delighting acquisition to the castle's staff, I assure you. Her sole purpose is to undermine me, and although I am certain that neither she nor the minister knows, it is Tom's attempt to weaken my support base without announcing his return too early.
I am sure that Madam Umbridge would have succeeded to drive me out of the castle toward the end of the year, but that is also something which can be exploited and shows one of Tom's greatest faults: he thinks too highly of himself and too little of others. What I intend to do, Harry, is to take the bull by its horns. I will drive the dear lady to exclude me from the castle far earlier than Tom would have expected. When that happens, Tom assured by the greatness of his plans, will not stop to think about my motives. He will feel confident, secure in the knowledge that he limited my influence greatly – and he will announce himself to the world, relishing in the terror his name unleashes.
You know, Harry. Terror, for all the horrors it entails, breeds resistance; against him, and against his ideals.
And although Harry was quite pleased by the headmaster's plan to exploit one of Riddle's mistakes, he worried. What would happen, if the target Riddle chose to demonstrate his power was the castle itself? Without Dumbledore and with the harsh restrictions of the ministry, they wouldn't stand a chance.
The castle will not fall. Have no doubt of that, my boy. Indeed, I believe Madam Umbridge will find that Hogwarts can be quite unaccommodating to those who oust a headmaster for nefarious reasons; and politics are, by nature, nearly always nefarious. The wards will be tied to me, and as long as I have not committed crimes against the castle's charter, nothing will change that.
What I get after leaving though, is the really important part. It gives me the time to properly train you, to instruct you in the finer points of battle magic and war. The tools you will get from me, the experience from missions for the Order on which I shall accompany you – and after I am satisfied with your progress, also from missions you will undertake with other members.
For a long time afterward, both had sat in silence. It was a question of when, not if, Riddle would reveal himself, but when he did... the headmaster's words from months ago echoed in his mind: tickling a sleeping dragon was perilous.
Grimmauld Place – 16. December 1995
Mad-Eye and Sirius, these two were a seriously frightening combination. And it hadn't taken longer than a few days until the Order had become a completely militarized organization. Members had been divided into divisions according to their talents, missions were issued to teams compromised of members with the needed specialties, and each mission had to be approved by the council which essentially consisted of Mad-Eye, Sirius, and Elphias Doge – with Dumbledore as a trusted and highly valued advisor.
Protocols had been created, schedules had been revised, and some of the members that held jobs in inconsequential positions – and didn't have to feed a family – left them behind, dedicating their full live to the Order. More and more the definition of the Order changed; from a group of equal minded persons, they evolved into a military squad.
He walked through the magically enhanced headquarters, and once again Harry marveled at the ingenuity and power Dumbledore had displayed when he had cast his spells on Sirius' ancestral home.
Accomplished wizards were often able to enlarge spaces, but as everything, it had its limits. The headmaster, however, didn't seem to care too much about conventions and with the help of nearly every member and himself as the anchor, he had cast magic that nearly tripled the size of Grimmaul Place. Hours of research, a mixture of charms, arithmancy, runes and ritual magic – and the sheer scale of what the man had done with the already large headquarter... it was enough to render anyone speechless.
There was no doubt in his mind that Dumbledore had earned his title of The greatest wizard of modern age through other means than just defeating Grindelwald.
The corridor seemingly stretched on forever, and many familiar faces greeted him. Teams with their missions, pairs who were scheduled to observe Death Eater hideouts, medical personal – the list went on. And it wasn't the first time that Harry felt himself truly believing Dumbledore's words.
They had a chance. They learned from their mistakes and Riddle won't have it as easy as last time when he terrorized Britain.
When he was in primary school, he didn't have any friends. At Hogwarts he didn't have much contact with other persons either; the sole exception being Ron and Hermione. But here... well, it was a damn shame that it took a war for him to be social, but the camaraderie he suddenly found himself in with the other Order members – he loved it, enjoyed it, and wouldn't miss it for anything.
People like Mad-Eye, the crazy but strict grandfather type, who, despite Harry's age, accepted him as a capable fighter; Edgar, a brother in arms, who, despite his docile nature, could be truly ferocious when the situation required it; Tonks, who had been the first one to truly make the effort of befriending him; and Bill, the man who had started to teach him about life in a sense that neither Dumbledore, nor Sirius, could ever have done.
He didn't fight for his own survival anymore, didn't fight just to spite the madman that had killed his parents, or to uphold the ridiculous beliefs society held in him – no, he had a better reason now. And although many of the people who didn't really know him would say that he had a self-sacrificing personality, it was now that he could truly say: I'd take a killing curse for any of you.
Although there were still some who weren't pleased by his membership, or rather the unusual form of his membership. Dumbledore had been true to his words and started to instructs Harry for hours on end – some said it was favoritism, but for the moment, Dumbledore wasn't a headmaster and couldn't be accused of such.
The first few missions with Dumbledore had been interesting. So far he had infiltrated the ministry as a lowly pencil pusher, had learned more about taking down wards when he searched in abandoned death eater hideouts for clues and had raided a small warehouse with a team from the Order – and always, Dumbledore trailed behind, content to observe his apprentice and offering advice the few times it was needed.
No matter what, Harry swore himself, he would be ready.
AN: Well, that's it. The chapter isn't long, but somehow I like it. I just can't keep myself from writing wise speeches, especially if I'm listening to one of the mass effect soundtracks.
Anyway, enjoy!