Disclaimer: Not mine, I just like to play with them for a little while.
Sort of Not-Disclaimer: I picked the names for all the clan-masters about two years ago, quite a while before actually starting to write the fic. At that time I'd never read any Neil Gaiman book, so the Catar Stardust is not a tribute to the novel Stardust ... Then again can I make him a tribute anyway?
Notes: I know, I know, it's been forever. I'm terribly sorry and hoping to be faster from now on. I've got a new job and new life rhythm which will hopefully include regular writing times again.
Chapter 24: Meetings
Learning new charms had never been one of Ron's strengths and this one looked especially advanced. Still he just had to get it right. The future of the wizarding world depended on it.
He lifted his wand, swung it in a perfect figure eight and whispered "Mutortia".
There was a tingle in his hand, but nothing happened. He'd got the word wrong, but what was it again? "Murortia?"
The table turned into a solid wall right in the middle of the charms section of Hogwarts' library. Madam Pince was beside him instantly.
"Mr. Weasley," she demanded. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"
Ron stared at her and the wall open-mouthed.
"Well?" the librarian prodded.
"Huh?"
"What were you trying to do?" Madam Pince tapped her foot impatiently. A whispering and pointing crowd of students was forming behind her.
"Er ..." He held up the spellbook he'd been using. "Practising summoning charms."
"You were summoning walls inside my library!"
"No, no, I have no idea why the table turned into a wall, I swear! I was just trying to summon a tiny little m..." But that wasn't third year material. She'd never believe that he was studying ahead for next year. "Marble," he lied.
"Marbosortia?" The librarian's voice sounded very doubtful.
Ron nodded eagerly. "I may have mispronounced it a bit."
"Indeed," Madam Pince said and then cast "Finite Incantatem!"
Nothing at all happened.
"You say the table turned into a wall?" she asked Ron again. "You're sure the wall didn't appear on top of it?"
"Yes, Madam Pince," Ron confirmed.
"This will require a specific counter spell, I fear." She turned around and pointed at one of the whispering students and then another. "You, alert Professor Flitwick and you Professor McGonagall. I have no idea how you managed to turn a basic summoning charm into a transfiguration, but then you do have a way with creative magic."
Ron cringed. Why did these things always happen to him? Madam Pince actually looked a little more friendly at the sight of this reaction.
"Hopefully the experts will figure out how to reverse this," she said. "If not we'll have to banish the wall and your parents will owe the school a new table."
Oh no! Mum would be furious. Money seemed to be getting ever tighter at home anyway. Dad said it was because of the war that was accelerating something called inflation. Ron didn't quite understand what that was or how one had to do with the other, but the result was that there was no money to buy pets, new wands or even school robes that actually fit him. He wondered just how expensive tables were.
Severus arrived at the emergency staff meeting fearing the very worst. Voldemort had been too quiet lately and he doubted that he was really concentrating everything he had on taking apart Azkaban. Something big was coming even if none of his sources had heard or seen anything.
The only thing he was confident could be completely ruled out at the moment was an attack on the school itself. He'd have noticed that, even if he'd been in the dungeons for most of the day. A barrage of high level attack spells against the castle's wards would be very hard to miss. He'd have felt the reaction of the wards, if he'd somehow managed to miss the noise.
But when he entered the staff room the atmosphere wasn't nearly as worried as he'd expected. The headmaster was even laughing. Maybe this wasn't Voldemort's next move, yet. A prank by the Weasley twins perhaps? Or maybe Saint Aignon had suggested reintroducing mandatory prayers before every meal? He wasn't sure what arguments Albus had used to stop those. It had happened before he'd been hired.
Minerva McGonagall greeted him with an apprehensive look. That too was a good sign. Whatever was to be discussed here was likely to give him ammunition against Gryffindor. All the clues seemed to point at the Weasley twins then. Severus relaxed a little.
"Oh Severus," Flitwick greeted him with a bright smile. "You're going to love this. It's hilarious."
Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "We have an emergency and I'm expected to love it?"
"It is more of a nuisance than an emergency," Madam Pince announced. "But I want it fixed. It's creating a disturbance in the library."
"It appears that Mr. Weasley accidentally turned one of our library tables into a wall," the headmaster explained.
"Well, that's nice to hear," Severus sneered at the group. "But these things do happen. Why does Mr. Weasley's incompetence at Transfiguration require a staff meeting? He isn't the only dunderhead in this school."
"Because it isn't actually incompetence at Transfiguration," Minerva explained. "He claims to have been attempting to cast marbosortia."
"And yes, Severus, we are talking about that Mr. Weasley," Filius added. "The one of impossible potion accident fame."
"Marbosortia?" Well, that was indeed an achievement.
"Don't ask me why he was practising that particular charm," Filius continued. "It's on the third year curriculum, but I haven't taught it to his class, yet and he is bad enough at the charms we have been through not to have any reason to study ahead. Perhaps he thought it would help somehow."
"Or perhaps he thought playing with marbles would be more fun," Severus sneered. "That boy is so lazy he thinks twice before opening a book."
"Anyway, he has admitted to having mispronounced the spell, so we suspect that he said mutosortia casting an unspecified muto instead of a summoning spell," Minerva continued. "He also admits the table only changed after his second spell, but how he got from marbosortia to specifying a wall is anyone's guess."
"I'd suspect muremsortia to be closest, but since that is the correct spell for summoning a wall, shouldn't it have taken precedence over the open specification?"
"It should indeed," Albus agreed. "But we can't discount the possibility that his wand movements were wrong, even if the pronunciation was correct."
"I take it the boy has no idea what he said?" Severus asked rhetorically. "How typical. Of course we can't assume correct pronunciation, if he didn't even cast the spell he intended to."
"Mr. Weasley's Latin is just barely acceptable," Professor Stylus agreed. "Though he is surprisingly good at learning Latin prayers by heart." He nodded towards Sir Fulko. "Excellent memory and dedication. He just doesn't bother to remember the grammar or meaning of the words."
"It is also quite possible that Weasley's second spell did nothing at all," Minerva said. "And a student at a nearby table happened to mention the word wall loud enough for the open spell to pick up on it."
"Whatever may have done it," Filius intervened. "We seem to be unable to counter the spell. Neither general nor specific counter charms worked and Minerva has been unable to transfigure the wall back into a table for more than a few seconds."
"Have you tried vanishing or banishing it?" Severus asked. "It's not like that table was particularly valuable, was it?"
"No, but the Weasleys would still insist on covering the costs and they are currently in a very tight financial situation," Albus explained. "We shouldn't do that to them, if at all possible."
"It's Weasley's own fault for being so irresponsible," Severus sneered. Honestly what had the boy expected trying an unfamiliar spell without adult guidance or proper preparation when he was fully aware of his lack of ability in the subject?
"But with no bad intent and certainly no fault of the rest of the family," Saint Aignon threw in. "Maybe some other sort of compensation could be agreed on, something the boy can do himself. Tutoring lessons perhaps?"
"Well, definitely not Charms or Potions," Filius reminded them. "Transfigurations perhaps?"
"Out of the question," Minerva replied immediately. "Maybe something less accident prone. A more theoretical subject might be best, perhaps History of Magic. There's no actual magic he can mess up there."
"And no students in need of tutoring," Filius reminded her. "History requires no understanding, talent or intelligence, merely reading the textbook and memorising dates."
Albus looked around at the other teachers, but nobody volunteered. "Well, which subject does he get his best grades in?"
"Religion," Minerva said after checking her catalogue. "But they aren't exactly spectacular. Weasley is an averagely talented, slightly lazy student. There's nothing that really stands out except for his abysmal performance in Potions."
"So, could he tutor Religion?" Albus asked the Templar.
"The only student currently getting tutoring is Miss Wheeler due to her medical condition," Saint Aignon said. "And she is a third year as well. We can't expect him to teach material he is still learning himself. Of the lower years the students who are having problems do so out of laziness and unwillingness. Like History of Magic Religion doesn't require much besides diligence and application. It is the faith that is important, not understanding. After all the Lord loves all his children equally no matter what talents each of them has."
"Maybe there's something he could do in the library," Jonathan Harker suggested. "Hand out books or assist with filing? It's the library that has lost the table, so it only makes sense that it should profit from the compensation."
Madam Pince looked thoughtful, then beamed at Jonathan in a way Severus had never seen before. The woman appeared to be actually enthusiastic!
"That's brilliant," she exclaimed. "He can help me find misplaced books and return them to their proper shelves. Or maybe he could sort out damaged books for repairs."
"Ah, that's fixed then," Albus announced happily. "Ronald Weasley is our new library assistant."
"He still has to serve his detentions," Argus Filch grumbled. "Can't let his other offences go unpunished."
The boy would probably have little spare time this year, Severus thought with a touch of uncalled for glee. He tried to tell himself that it was only because it would keep Weasley out of further trouble and give the Slytherins less reasons to retaliate and require discipline.
It would also save Gryffindor a lot of points, but they were already so far behind the other houses that Severus doubted they had any chance at winning the house cup left.
Raven waited until the other teachers began to file out of the room before approaching Albus. He didn't want this to attract too much attention.
"Oh Albus, I was wondering whether I might borrow your pensieve for a few hours."
The headmaster looked up in surprise. "My pensieve? Has something happened?"
"Nothing big," Raven replied casually. "Just a nervous second year being too embarrassed to talk about something and too scared to let me legilimise her. Hence she's asked to tell me via pensieve."
"Something serious?"
"Hopefully not, but I'd like to be sure," Severus answered a little less honestly now.
It was completely true that Luna was a nervous second year who had something to tell him via pensieve after all, and even though he had suggested it first Luna had asked for it. Was it his fault, if Albus assumed he was talking about a Slytherin he suspected might have been abused?
Raven's letter reached Greypony on a tourist ferry to a Greek island. Clanmaster Sixclaw had promised to meet him there as there was apparently no public transport to the nearby island his clan lived on and paying a fisherman to take him there but not back would attract attention.
The name Sixclaw made him smile whenever he thought of it. He couldn't help imagining the Greek high-priest looking just like little Sixtoe back in Iceland. Right now wasn't the time to be homesick, though. Some of the Muggle tourists had seen him accept the seagull delivered message and were giving him odd looks.
He decided to wander out of their sight as if he were looking for a place to eat or a restroom. If anyone addressed him, he could always resort to answering them in Icelandic, but it was easier to evade them before they got that curious.
Below deck the ferry seemed almost empty and quiet. Just a few natives who'd fled what they considered cold weather here.
Greypony ignored them and claimed the bench furthest away from them to read his letter. They didn't pay him any attention, though. Maybe they saw so many tourists everyday that they'd become boring or maybe they recognised and respected his wish for privacy. It didn't really make a difference as long as they were leaving him alone.
He was curious to hear Raven's thoughts on Silence's clan and their lifestyle, but soon realised that he wouldn't find those in this letter. This seagull had come directly from Latvia, poor bird. It told of the visit with Lightdance's clan who lived in colourful gypsy tents and travelled in some kind of strange wagons that had apparently amused Raven.
'You might want to consider visiting Albania on your way back from Greece,' Raven suggested passing on Lightdance's information. 'Lightdance's friend Curl is likely to welcome you with open arms. He also has Slovene and Czech cousins nicknamed Streaker and Riverlight respectively. You'll have to forgive me for not giving you their real names, but I can neither pronounce nor spell them. It was also good to renew my acquaintance with your cousin. He tells me he has met an interesting girl in Norway and is now off to meet friends in Denmark and Sweden. Lightdance's rumoured eastern contacts turned out to be in Russia and Mongolia. I'm wondering whether that isn't too big a distance both physically and culturally for our purpose, though. Please tell me what you think.'
Russia? Well, that could be a huge distance or it could be practically next doors to Lightdance and Nightsky. He'd have automatically assumed the later, if the second contact hadn't been in Mongolia.
It was a big decision indeed. Was this going to be a European project or should they extend it into Asia? From Mongolia it would be a small step to China and from there India, Indonesia ... Japan? Asia was huge and offered a lot of wilderness that would be perfect for Catar to retreat to and most Asian countries' wizards were a lot less hostile towards their kind. The Templars had little say among Buddhists, Hindus and Moslems. There were likely to be a lot of clans there. China alone might house hundreds. Why would they even want to join up with European clans? They were likely to have fully functional high councils much closer to home.
On the other hand he was curious to meet the Mongolians. They were most likely nomadic people with a lifestyle similar to his own clan, yet probably more centered around horses. At least he saw no reason for them to adopt a different lifestyle in a country where it would seem perfectly normal even to Muggles.
Wouldn't Loki love a chance to visit them? He was already getting a foreign apprenticeship with Raven and even wizards, but it would teach him little about hunting and with two undertrained kittens on his paws Raven would have no time to teach him warrior skills. It might be a good strategic move to send a kitten or two to France to learn those, but the thought made Greypony uneasy.
Perhaps a few months in Mongolia should round up Loki's education, though and it might be a good place to send other kittens as well, safer than Scotland and more useful than Rome.
It seemed unlikely that the Mongolians would even consider joining a high council in Europe, but perhaps establishing communication lines would be of interest to them. They definitely should present themselves as an opportunity for enterprising kittens to see more of the world and broaden their horizons.
Exchanging information via the Russians or Lightdance's people could put a possible European council in contact with other councils all over Asia.
He was tempted to reply to Raven's letter right away and tell him of his ideas, but decided to wait until after his meeting with Sixclaw. Raven might be eager to hear his response, but a few hours wouldn't make much of a difference and he'd want to know about the Greeks as well.
So he just made himself as comfortable as possible on the bench and continued to read. The rest of the letter consisted mostly of a progress report on Loki with a few mentions of Rascal and Firewheel strewn in. Loki's English was improving rapidly, which was excellent news, though not unexpected and, if he interpreted Raven correctly, Firewheel had befriended a clanless girl-kitten who could help her learn about human culture and magic. Things seemed to be going well in Scotland.
The ferry landed about fifteen minutes later and Greypony got off with the crowd of out of season tourists, mostly elderly people in travel groups and young couples with children too young to be in school and some young couples that were probably still childless or had dumped their children on some relative or other. There might have been some honeymooners among them as well, but Greypony suspected that those were probably staying to themselves and rarely leaving their hotel rooms. They'd have other things on their minds than sight-seeing.
He didn't understand the human custom of running off to a distant country right after taking a new life-partner. They should be at home building their hut and making it comfortable. And making their first kitten, of course, which was after all what people got married for as even the human honeymooners demonstrated.
Or perhaps he was misinterpreting their behaviour. They were humans not cats. Perhaps they felt and thought differently about kittens. Watching the humans around him seemed to indicate so. The tour groups had been herded into busses that were now departing one by one and only the young couples remained trying to calm down crying babies, find misplaced bottles, searching for a place for an emergency diaper change or discussing where to buy formula on the island.
An about five year old girl looked at him with deep brown eyes thumb in her mouth and a stuffed monkey clutched tightly to her chest. Behind her her parents were enthusiastically planning out a travel route and listing sights they wanted to see. Her eyes promised she intended to be good and not get in their way much, but she wasn't expecting much pleasure from seeing cultural sights she was too young to understand the significance of.
He wondered why humans insisted on taking babies like her on such trips. Couldn't they see they were boring her, that she'd be much happier visiting her grandparents or playing in the garden at home? Why take the trouble of travelling with a baby, if there was nothing in it for the child? Did the humans actually enjoy the desperate search for baby bottles, diapers and bathrooms? The crying on ferries, planes and tour busses?
He couldn't feel a Catar aura around, so he decided to take a little walk around the town before he attracted the attention of the people working at the harbour. It seemed to consist entirely of white houses and flowerpots, though many of them looked dead and empty now. He assumed the flowers were meant to be blooming in summer at the peak of the tourist season, though even now it was hot enough for all sorts of plants.
Did he share the humans' taste in potted plants, he wondered. They were tamed, enslaved things not allowed to unfold in the wild natural beauty he was used to seeing at home, but then any plant he was used to would probably shrivel up and die in the unforgiving heat of this foreign land.
Greypony sighed. There was no denying it anymore, his heart was calling him home. Even though he'd only been away for about three months it seemed like an eternity and it didn't help that it was a summer-hot spring here when the ground was still frozen at home.
He wondered how much the kittens had grown in his absence, whether the food supplies were lasting through the winter this year, whether his daughter missed him. He hadn't even seen Loki in so long. After Albania he'd make a quick stopover at Hogwarts. Maybe he'd feel better after spending a weekend with his son.
It'd also give him a chance to check up on Firewheel and see how she was coping with her new life and Dustcloud's betrayal. Raven assured him that she'd get over the shock, but that probably meant that she was suffering badly right now.
He hadn't even realised that he'd wandered back to the shore and stopped to stare out at the sea. Even it looked different here than it did in Iceland, calmer, warmer, tame. He wondered whether Odin would hear his prayers here in Poseidon's realm.
Or maybe even Poseidon no longer listened to a people long turned towards a different faith. Iceland's gods weren't as present in the humans' minds as they used to be, but even after all this time they were far from forgotten. Rome had turned its back on Mars and Jupiter long ago, though. Were the gods of the south as lost and alone in this land as he was, abandoned and forgotten by the people?
"Why so blue?"
The cat had snuck up on him without a warning, but he was still dampening his aura and Greypony had been too distracted to look for him.
"Just thinking of a sad story," he told the stranger. It didn't seem a good idea to admit to him that his homeland was making him homesick.
"Want to talk about it?" Sixclaw offered. "Usually it helps to share."
Greypony regarded him silently for a moment. He didn't even know this cat, but the offer seemed genuine enough and he was here to try and befriend these people. Admitting to the homesickness still seemed like a bad idea, though.
"A while ago a fried and I visited another clan," he started. He'd have to be careful not to reveal anything too private about other cats, but it certainly wouldn't insult Sixclaw to tell him of Firewheel's troubles. "They were afraid keeping contact with us would attract too much attention to them, but promised to consider it and asked us to take one of their kittens as an apprentice. A pretty, well mannered kitten they' raised for sixteen winters, but insisted was still clanless. They apprenticed her to my friend, a warrior, even though it was her ambition to become a huntress and his life circumstances are very different from what she was used to. I don't think she even wanted a foreign apprenticeship, though she was too polite to tell us. She didn't seem the adventurous type. So my friend took her home to a foreign country and completely new way of life and soon after her clan informed her that they never wanted to see her or us again and they'd kill her, if she ever tried to contact them." It would go too far to include the attempt to use Firewheel as an assassin, he decided. He just couldn't accuse a fellow clan master of such despicable actions.
Sixclaw stared at him. "Surely they don't really mean to hurt her. They're probably just overpopulated and unable to feed her. I'll take her, if you can't. There are some good fishers in my clan, loving and patient teachers. It mightn't be exactly the kind of hunting she's used to, but the fish's plenty around here and she'll grow healthy and strong on it."
"Oh, there's no problem placing her," Greypony assured him. "Raven's delighted to keep her. A female hunter's just what his clan needs, though her clan couldn't possibly have known. What's bothering me is the way they treated her. If they had too many kittens, surely some of them would have liked the promise of adventure in a foreign land. They could have just asked for volunteers. Raven wouldn't have denied them, even if it wasn't a female or a hunter they offered, and neither would I. Why call her clanless after sixteen years? She could have made a normal switch of clans and kept exchanging messages with her friends and adopted family. What has become of our race that we'd turn on our kittens like that?"
He hadn't been fully aware of how much this bothered him until now. It had indeed helped to tell the edited version of the story, though he was unsure whether he should have. Discussing these things with Raven was one thing, but Sixclaw was a complete stranger.
"All this is in strict confidence between clan masters, of course," he added quickly. "I wouldn't want others to think badly of that clan."
"If that is how you see it, I will keep quiet," Sixclaw promised. "Though I think a story like that should be told, if only to demonstrate our disapproval of such behaviour. Every kitten should know that it is not done to cast out your fellow cat or threaten harm to a kitten. If we are going to arrange exchanges of kittens, I'd like to have a clear set of rules that we all agree to. A rogue clan that abandons kittens like that is not an acceptable destination for any of my clan's kittens."
He'd clearly been in contact with Silence or one of his people. Greypony hadn't mentioned the idea in any of his letters to him.
"It should be on a voluntary basis," he said. "I think everybody will agree on that. And I don't like the idea of arranging pairings unless the kittens have met and agree."
"You've got cats pushing for blind marriages as well?" Sixclaw said surprised.
"Not really, no," he explained hastily. "Just one clan that seemed interested in marrying a kitten outside clan. We never discussed the matter and I assume they'd have asked for a meeting, if I'd mentioned knowledge of a suitable mate. It just made me think about possible problems."
"Such marriages could be a good idea," Sixclaw stated. "We inbreed too much."
"They will also be more difficult than they used to be. Few of the clans we've found share the same language and lifestyles differ widely. The kitten I told you of moved from a forest clan to another, so hunting will be much the same and she already knows English, even if it isn't her first language, but her original clan had no contact with humans while her new one has established wizard identities. It's a bit of a culture shock."
"Is she having problems with that?"
"It doesn't seem so, but I've been trying to imagine one of my kittens moving to Rome and I doubt any of them could handle it."
"But those from other clans might like it," Sixclaw commented calmly. "Facilitating kitten exchanges doesn't mean each clan has to do an exchange with every other clan. Who has that many kittens in the first place?"
Sixclaw was right of course. Maybe he was worrying over nothing and Firewheel would be happy in her new clan and forget the old one once she got over the first shock, Lantern would proudly bring home a bride from a clan with a more human lifestyle, Lightdance's and his own surplus kittens would move to Scotland and maybe one or two would choose to join Mistwalker's clan and avoid culture shock entirely.
He was so deep in thought about the kittens that he only realised the way Sixclaw spoke of 'us' whenever he mentioned the theoretical future high council after they'd boarded the Greek's fishing boat and sailed out of the harbour. It was strange how the foreign sea that had seemed so depressing less than an hour ago looked friendly and comforting from this angle.
"You've put a lot of effort into the place," the woman with wild black hair comments.
"I did it for the kittens," he explains not taking his eyes off the distant castle. They are too far away, but he still thinks he can see the boats crossing the moat carrying the new and returning students to the school. There will be no kittens among them this or any future year. "All in vain."
He wonders how long the school will last now that he has left. Even if they've turned against him, the loss of one member will always destabilise a group's dynamics. It might well break the ties between the other three and then Hogwarts will either die with their friendship or somebody else will take their place steering it into an uncertain future.
If Hogwarts survives into the next generation, how long will it last? Does it matter if it will never see another kitten? Why does he still care?
"Maybe," his companion says. "Or maybe not. Perhaps in a decade or two the wind will change. The humans are an instable lot. You never know what you'll get with them. Times change and that castle of yours is built to last. Maybe someday it shall be ours again."
Or theirs entirely as it has never been, he knows though she still doesn't dare speak such words in his hearing. Despite his leaving, despite the dream burning to cinders he still feels that it would be just as much a failure as the current situation, if the castle were to fall entirely into Catar hands. It was meant to be shared.
"For now, though, we have other business to attend to," she nudges him gently. "Leave the humans to themselves and we shall take care of ourselves as it should be."
"Lets go home then," he agrees, but lingers a moment longer as she transforms and slips into the underbrush.
Perhaps Hogwarts will last for many generations, perhaps someday the wind will change and yet unborn kittens will walk the halls that were home to him not so long ago. Halls he doubts he'll ever see again.
Just for a moment he reaches out with all the magic he can reach to cast his blessing for his unknown brothers and sisters, his blessing and a plea not to forget his dream. Hogwarts will know them and protect them as long as his magic will last. He doesn't think it likely that even the castle will stand that long.
Again Firewheel woke up confused from her dream and for a moment there between sleeping and waking she felt a connection running back through the centuries as if she could almost touch Littlepaws.
'I am here,' she thought at him. "We are here. It was not in vain. This may not be what you intended, but you gave us a home when we have nothing else left, a home for strays and the last survivors of dead clans. You gave us each other when without this place we'd have nobody."
She wondered whether Littlepaws would still think this a failure, because even though they were living and studying with the humans, the humans remained unaware of their presence.
They were using the humans, she realised with a start, when Littlepaws' intention had been for them to work together.
'But they don't want to work with us, Lord Littlepaws. They keep working against us wherever they find us!'
There was no answer from the darkness around her, but then what answer to today's problems could the past provide? Her hope, like Littlepaws', lay in the future and it didn't yield a glimpse.
"We won, Albus," the Minister of Magic repeated. "We won this one."
"Yes, Cornelius," Albus confirmed. "But at what price?"
"Of course the deaths of those Aurors are tragic," Fudge assured him. "But they gave their lives willingly to defend our world and people. They died as heroes and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did not get whatever he was after. Even the damages to the buildings were minimal. Diagon Alley will be back to business as usual tomorrow morning."
"It was just a minor attack," Albus reminded him. "And it cost the lives of sixteen people, eleven of them on our side."
"There were no civilian casualties at least," Severus Snape pointed out. "That much is indeed positive news."
Albus sighed. As far as he was concerned every life lost in this war was a tragedy, but the only way to stop the deaths was to end the war and there were only two possible ways to do so. The easier and faster one would be to surrender, but then everything they had fought for would be lost and Albus didn't even want to imagine how many lives that 'peace' would take. There was no telling how much blood it would take to satisfy King Voldemort.
This was no time to grieve or celebrate, they had a war to fight. "Do we have any ideas what he was after?"
"Gringotts?" Filius Flitwick suggested. "It's close to the scene at least."
"The bank itself, or something inside?" Remus Lupin asked.
"Either is possible," Severus analysed. "There are many valuable and powerful objects stored there that would certainly be useful to him, but loss of the bank itself would destabilise our entire economy. It could even cause the ministry to break down, if they were no longer able to pay their employees."
Even Aurors needed to eat and feed their families, yes. Why had he never realised before what a crucial point in this war Gringotts could become?
"He was closer to the Diagon Alley church," Sir Fulko stated. "He was obviously going to attack the church."
"That is a possibility," Severus allowed. "The building itself would be of little strategic use, but there were innocent civilians there. A bloodbath in a church certainly would shock and frighten people. Still, I think attacking Gringotts makes more sense, if you have enough power. The goblins are not an easy opponent."
Sir Fulko jumped out of his chair yelling something about the importance of faith.
"Fulko, please," Albus caught his arm just in case he went for his wand. "Gringotts is actually the less risky target."
"What!" Saint Aignon roared.
"Think about it," Albus said trying to project as much calm as possible. "Destroying the church would be a direct attack on God and the true faith. It might demoralise the faithful, or galvanise them into action against the blasphemer. Unlike the destruction of Gringotts losing the Diagon Alley church will not cripple the Ministry or even the Temple. It is one of our larger churches, yes, and quite beautiful, but there are enough other wizarding churches. Most of our people can apparate and the rest can floo to attend Mass anywhere in the country. Or the Ministry could supply them with emergency portkeys until the church is rebuilt. If Voldemort wanted a fight with the Temple, it would make much more sense to go for the grand master or one of the more strategically placed castles of the order."
"You can't expect a madman like Riddle to always make sense," Filius warned. "It could be an act of random rage."
"It could be, but the attack was too well organised to have been put together on impulse. It looks like a planned operation and Voldemort's plans have always made sense up until now. Unless there was someone or something in the church that is relevant to his plans, I think we can discount it as the main target. It might have been intended as a feint to draw our forces away from somewhere else, though."
Saint Aignon took a deep breath and to Albus' relief did indeed calm down. "They would have attacked during or right after Mass, if that were the case, so we'd have had to send people to protect and evacuate the civillians as well as to defend the building. Considering the time of the attack the Leaky Cauldron would have been a more effective diversion."
"The Leaky Cauldron or Gringotts, then," Albus summed up. "Any other likely targets?"
"Any shop that might contain something that Voldemort needs," Severus said. "We still don't know what his current plan is, so we can only guess. The attack could be an indication that he has found whatever he was looking for in Azkaban, though. If so, he's likely to make another move soon."
"There's a blasphemous book missing from the library," Saint Aignon growled suddenly.
"About the early years of the Founders," Severus stated calmly. "As by your permission I have hidden it in my quarters where no curious and naive students might see me search it."
"Does such a thin book really merit such long study?" Saint Aignon questioned.
"I have been busy with too many other tasks," Severus explained and Albus wondered why it felt to him like he was lying. It was all perfectly obvious truth after all. "The book is of particular interest, because it mentions an incident of Salazar Slytherin handling a wand."
There were some excited exclamations and whispers, but Severus as usual ignored them.
"So it proves that he had a wand?" Albus asked. If so, why hadn't Severus reported it sooner?
"No the wand is clearly stated to be Gryffindor's, but if the anecdote is true, Salazar was at least interested in his fellow founders' wands. This curiosity could have led to him learning at least some wand magic later on for which purpose he might have bought a wand of his own. I'm planning to analyse the text for hidden hints as soon as I find time."
Again Albus had the niggling feeling that Severus wasn't telling them the complete truth, but then he trusted the man and it was often wise not to tell Sir Fulko everything.
"Right," he said determined to return the conversation to the more pressing original topic. "So we should assume that the latest attack was an attempt to steal some unique or at least rare magical object. It failed so the object is most likely still in Diagon Alley. Unless he has alternative plans Voldemort is likely to try again. We should tighten security there."
"There are three problems with that assumption," Severus stated. "One: The target may have been a person rather than an object and in that case it is much more likely that Voldemort's next attempt will happen elsewhere as he will expect us to tighten security in Diagon Alley. Two: As you said there might be alternatives. The object in Diagon Alley might just be the one closest. After his failure Voldemort is more likely to go for another. Three: The attack could have been a feint or diversion and in that case drawing part of our forces away from their current stations to secure Diagon Alley might be exactly what Voldemort wanted. How long can we keep an increased number of Aurors there without reducing security elsewhere?"
That was true. Ministry and order forces were already overworked as it was. Even Aurors needed to sleep sometimes. The centaurs and merpeople couldn't be stationed in Diagon Alley, or in fact most of the places the Aurors were guarding. They'd be too obviously out of place.
"Then you suggest to do nothing?" Severus was their best strategist, but sometimes Albus worried that he was too cold about the loss of lives in the war.
Maybe. It was hard to tell what was really going on behind his mask. Even more than other Slytherins Severus was good at hiding his feelings. Most of the time it was only his secret actions that gave Albus a hint when his young friend was troubled about something.
"I suggest to keep people ready to move quickly in any direction," Severus said. "If you are going to station additional soldiers, do it at a floo station."
Not a bad idea at all, but where to take the soldiers from?
"We could use the more advanced trainees," Fudge suggested. "Station them in barracks near the Ministry floo station."
Albus nodded his agreement sadly. He hated the thought of using the Ministry's conscripted soldiers before they had even completed what little basic training they could be given in the middle of a war, but the necessity didn't come completely unexpected. They'd discussed it before.
"Excellent," Severus agreed and Albus once again wondered what he actually felt.
Albus knew that Severus cared a lot about his students and not just those of his own house even though it often appeared that way. Few people were able to notice and interpret the signs, though. Was it the same here? Was he simply unable to see Severus' worry for the soldiers?
What was his Potions teacher up to this year anyway? His frequent absences couldn't be entirely due to having found a new friend. Albus was pretty sure that he hadn't met Grey on this last trip nor could he see any connection with Potions or the war effort.
Severus was plotting something and so far there was no telling what the two foreign students might have to do with it. In fact Albus wasn't entirely sure Loki Grey had any connection to the plot other than being his father's son. Mr. Grey was clearly involved somehow, but all his secret observance and background checks on Loki showed him nothing but an ordinary wizarding boy, curious and very open to new experiences, but an overall average student. Perhaps Mr. Grey had merely brought him here because he'd been worried that he'd get underfoot at home while he was away, or maybe a Hogwarts education counted for more in Iceland than Albus realised. Loki was a good influence on Draco Malfoy in any case, so Albus could see why Severus would have agreed. The Icelandic boy was surely the least likely Slytherin in his year to join the death eaters and his eagerness to know more about Muggles and Muggle borns was sure to at least make Draco's re-examine his views as well.
Fiona Wheeler was a different matter. Her passport had turned out to be a hasty, but well crafted piece of forgery and there seemed to be no other records of her existence, neither Muggle nor wizarding ones.
Lucius Malfoy had claimed her as his niece and was keeping up a front of politely interested, but secretly ashamed uncle. The role didn't suit him well and Albus was almost sure that Fiona's school money didn't come out of Lucius' fortune, even though the weekly sweets packages from 'home' apparently did.
The packages were dutifully delivered by Narcissa Malfoy's eagle owl every Friday. Draco's was always a little bigger, but the contents seemed to be mostly the same, wizarding sweets, a letter and occasionally a new quill or ink bottle or other school supplies. Fiona's first delivery had consisted of an expensive potions kit and a nice set of writing utensils. School books had followed the next week, but never any clothes.
Where had Fiona gotten her school robes? The first set had probably been borrowed from Draco, excellent quality, but a little too short for her and decorated with the Slytherin crest. She'd only worn them for one day, though.
Of course she might have borrowed Gryffindor robes from a classmate that was closer to her size than Draco, but it wasn't like Lucius to allow a family member to be seen in borrowed robes and they looked brand new.
Severus or Poppy Pomfrey could have bought them and gotten a refund from Lucius later, Albus supposed. Poppy would definitely have been in the best position to get the girl's measurements. That was probably what they'd tell him, if he asked. He doubted it was the truth, though.
No, for some reason, by some means Severus had convinced Lucius to cover his import of an illegal minor into the UK. Albus knew his Potions Master well enough not to doubt his intentions, but then why hadn't he asked him instead of the death eater? Why risk entrusting the secret to a shady character like Lucius Malfoy and possibly even indebt himself to him?
Severus wasn't foolish enough to rely on Lucius' good will or friendship, so he had to have some other bargaining tool that guaranteed Lucius' cooperation. Albus frowned.
If there was blackmail material Severus had on Lucus, Albus wanted it, needed it in fact. Few others could get as close to Voldemort as Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps the man even knew or could find out what his next plans were.
But then Severus had to know all that as well. Why hadn't he ever tried to use whatever he had to gain information on Voldemort? Oh, if only there were a way to look into Severus' head!
SupportSeverusSnape – Too bad or actually lucky? Ron's lonely and desperate for attention. I could almost feel sorry for him sometimes. Almost.
anna – Sorry for being so late. Nothing you could have helped with, though, just me being too lazy to finally type off the chapter and swamped with other plot hedgehogs. I'll try and finish this fic off before starting on anything else, though. Just as soon as I find out what happened to all the threads of it that I misplaced somewhere ... No really, I'm hoping to write faster again now.
Alia5 – Poor Ron's so desperate to prove himself and find some friends he keeps making things worse. Hermione will be fine, though. She has it a bit harder making friends in this AU, but she's a lot better at it than Ron.
Bonevene – I'm not giving away my Luna anyway. Love her too much. – Sir Fulko means well, yes, but I'm not sure he'd actually be nice, if he weren't overzealous. He has a slight sadistic streak as well. – Don't regard the Weasleys like a single character here. It's the twins that don't care whether Ginny actually believes. They're the rebels of the family, remember. Ron, Percy and Mrs Weasley are very serious about their religion, Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie a little less so and Ginny and the twins are mostly just acting religious. None of them are of the old faith, though. They've never even had any contact with it. – It's not an odd question, but I'm afraid this is an odd answer: I don't picture my characters at all. Unlike most other fanfic writers I know I do not see my stories as a film or even pictures. My imagination supplies words and feelings only. I suppose since you're asking to you this would feel incomplete, but I don't miss these things. ... I think a man like him would probably keep his hair short and under tight control and he isn't old enough for it to have gone white. His clothing would always sit perfectly and be perfectly clean. That's all I can give you, though.
Bunch-o-Nuts – Glad you liked it. RD is my longest fic, yes. I estimated about 20 chapters when I started writing it, but my estimates always tend to fall short.
OoO-ArAnEl-LuMe-OoO – Thanks. MNS was my first posted fic and probably the one with the most mistakes in it, so I'm always glad to hear people like it anyway.
Nicol – Thanks. I'm afraid probably not, but I did keep a short list of basic notes on the characters just in case. There are a lot of fics I want to write that I do already have a plot for, though, so unless inspiration strikes I'm not likely to return to this bunch.
smiles – This one is slow going, I'm afraid. Hope you don't mind.
Draco's Secret Lover – Glad to see you back even if you didn't review back then. Seven years is a long time and it's great to know that the story still works for you even now. :)