MASTERMIND
HUNTING, by Louis IX
Check first
chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.
Chapter
28 – An Earth-Rending Encounter
posted
January 19th,
2006
Harry looked through the window, and stopped what he was doing.
After returning back in time, he had pocketed Sinistra's mirror – Levitating it inside one of the enlarged pockets of his belt. He then checked with Cassie about Sinistra's location, before Apparating to his second bedroom to prepare. He had thought he'd work on his Animagus forms discreetly, and had even started to emulate the chameleon's effect – his Venetian cloak acting on his animal shapes' hide colour.
The outside sight had startled him. He already knew that the window overlooked a part of the grounds, but it was the first time that he realized where exactly he was looking. It was Hagrid's hut and the paddock nearby, where the large man was teaching Care of the Magical Creatures. Apparently, given what was in the paddock down there, the third year Gryffindor and Slytherin students were having a lesson about some large creature, a mix between a horse and a large eagle.
Genuinely curious about it, Harry Apparated outside without changing from the owl shape he was currently in, and he approached the enclosure where Hagrid was teaching. It was just in time to hear the last words of a diatribe about respecting the creatures, which the half-giant called Hippogriffs. Harry smiled, noticing the similarity with his own course – Respect being the keyword. After all, the beasts really looked regal and imposing. And dangerous.
As he was nearing the paddock, looking at them, he felt foreign emotions swirling around his mind. Thinking that it was a form of mental attack from somewhere, he almost Apparated out before realizing two things: one, it was coming from the assembled beasts; and, two, it was merely his peripheral Legilimency picking on their thoughts. Yes, thoughts. With a shock, Harry realized that these creatures were highly intelligent, and that the noble stance they assumed was more than an attitude: it was their way of life. As the students started to move around the paddock slowly, most of them showing the proper respect to the fearsome beasts, Harry sat on a nearby branch and started a mental conversation with one of them.
It was awkward at first, but Harry and the hippogriff quickly found "words" to communicate. The boy learnt that the beast was called Buckbeak by the humans, and Buckbeak learnt a bit about why an owl was able to chat with him mentally. They stopped discussing when a trio of students approached the beast, both of them having an uneasy feeling about them already.
Unfortunately, in any given group of human beings, especially teenagers, there are always persons pretending to know better than to follow the simplest safety instructions.
Of the three students in front of Buckbeak, one was even rude enough to insult the hippogriff.
"They couldn't make us study dangerous beasts, could they?" asked Malfoy, his trademark sneer in place. "I bet you're as dangerous as Longbottom's pet toad. Aren't you, you disgusting fat swine?" he asked towards Buckbeak, before turning to his friends to share a laugh.
That infuriated the creature, and neither Hagrid nor the students had time to intervene when the hippogriff lunged at the blond boy with a shriek of rage, causing gasps and screams around the paddock. Malfoy's laugh finished in a pained squeak as the creature's sharp talons slashed towards his shoulder, the powerful beak snapping a hair's breadth in front of his nose.
What nobody knew, though, was that Harry had felt the hippogriff's uneasiness morph into a towering rage. While he was agreeing on it on principle, he knew that a beast attacking a wizard was to face dire consequences, and he wouldn't want that for the noble creature. In the nick of time, he had succeeded in calming the seething mind, and the hippogriff's lunge fell an inch shorter than intended, with Malfoy only sporting shredded clothes and a scratched skin.
The boy fell on his bottom and recoiled, though, holding his arm as if he was deadly wounded. While he was slowly edging away of the still-screeching beast, Hagrid hurried forward, facing the hippogriff but addressing Malfoy over his shoulder. "What did ye do? Ye provoked him, did ye?" he asked, trying to appease the animal – and failing. At least, Buckbeak wasn't attacking him. Harry wasn't sure if Hagrid could have survived that, even with his tough hide.
Malfoy had taken advantage of Hagrid's interference to stand up again. "Of course not!" he protested, his arrogance having returned, now that he was upright again. He winced in mock pain as he was nursing his arm. "I didn't do anything, and it attacked me!"
Obviously, the hippogriffs understood humans' language, because the boy's sentence angered the beast even more.
"Get out of 'ere!" bellowed Hagrid. "Go to the Hospital if you're hurt, but leave now!"
The blond boy left, dragging Crabbe and Goyle behind him. He was clearly reluctant, wanting to watch as the teacher he thought of as a disgusting half-breed was reduced to ribbons by the beast. However, he still wanted to act as though he was seriously wounded, and he also knew he shouldn't push his luck too far concerning that particular animal. The three Slytherins left, and Buckbeak calmed down almost instantly. After several minutes, he would even allow Neville to mount him for a short ride.
Harry didn't see Neville doing so, though. When he had overheard Malfoy swearing on his way to the castle, and suspecting that it wasn't only a childish temper tantrum, he had decided to follow him, if only to hear what it was about. He had flown behind a couple of trees in order to Apparate out unnoticed, and was now in the gaseous reality, following the infamous Slytherin trio.
Malfoy was grumbling about his father and some executioner from the Ministry. The monologue was rather confusing, involving terms like Committee, Dangerous, and Regulation, but the gist of the boy's rant was that he wanted Buckbeak dead, and Hagrid fired. Harry wasn't fond of disposing of such a fine creature, and, after all, it was all Malfoy's fault.
As the three Slytherin were entering a deserted corridor, he heard Malfoy telling Goyle to stand guard while Crabbe would cast a Cutting Curse on his arm. When the boy noticed his bodyguards' lack of understanding, he explained that Pomfrey would make a useful witness in his case against the hippogriff, and he would have to appear heavily wounded.
Having more brainpower than Malfoy's bodyguards, Harry had understood midway through the boy's explanation, and he decided to prevent this. Thankfully, with his new position, that wasn't going to be difficult.
He went further down the corridor and Apparated behind a corner, before approaching them. "A problem, boys?"
"Nothing we can't resolve by ourselves." Malfoy said testily, trying to act nonchalant to avoid the teacher's attention.
"But... you're wounded!" Harry exclaimed. "Hurry, you have to go to the infirmary, boy. In fact, I'll accompany you." he said, grabbing the boy's good shoulder. Despite Malfoy's spluttering, he then turned towards Crabbe and Goyle. "You two go back to where you came from."
When the two lumberjacks had left, Harry enquired about the situation with as much candour as possible. "What happened?"
As he was leading the boy towards Madam Pomfrey's domain, he half-listened to the boy's recounting, trying not to laugh. According to Malfoy, a herd of rampaging hippogriffs, led by a humongous grey one, had started wreaking havoc on the whole class and he stopped them single-handedly. Harry wasn't quite happy of hearing this, especially because he had the distinct impression that the boy was sucking up to him. 'Wait for your first class, Malfoy... You'll have a surprise.' he thought, ideas of humiliating punishments right in place should the boy step out of line. And he was sure he would.
When they arrived in the infirmary, Harry made sure that the nurse had seen the whole little extent of the boy's wounds, before returning to his quarters, a satisfied smirk on his face.
While Harry was waiting for the mirror's call, he decided to forego his Animagus training, focusing on something else instead: charms on his muggle weapons. He sat comfortably and read a bit more of that particular book. After a few minutes, he was completely engrossed in it. The book was filled with interesting information, ideas, and spells, all of which he could apply not only to his crossbow, but also to his other muggle weapons, and even to armour. There were spells to speed up the reloading time and consequently the firing rate of weapons with ammunition, while some changed such weapons' range. Other spells were used on ammunition itself, with various effects. Spells existed to highlight the current target the weapon was aimed at, with the option of making it known only to the user – a kind of visor with homing device. Several of the ideas were everyday spells, but not everyone thought of applying them on muggle weaponry: the sticking charm to avoid being disarmed, for example, or strengthening charms for armours and weapons...
Half an hour into reading the book, Harry decided to try to cast the charms on his crossbow immediately. The first one was the summoning thing he had read when he had bought it. It involved a ring, which he Transfigured from a splinter, a container, and the weapon itself. After checking with the instructions twice, Harry tried the charm, and the magic settled in what seemed appropriate. He then put the ring on his finger and turned it as the spell description indicated. The crossbow disappeared from the tabletop and reappeared in his hand. He turned his ring the other way, and the crossbow disappeared. He checked his belt pocket and found the weapon there.
He smiled. That had been one of the most complicated spells of the book, and he continued casting spells until an unwelcome noise disturbed him.
The mirror.
He looked at his belt in surprise, and realized two things at the same time: one, he hadn't morphed his features into Sinistra's yet; and, two, he didn't know how to activate the poisoned mirror without touching it. In the blink of an eye, he decided to use the wayward teacher herself.
The time was 5pm, one hour before his past self would enter his quarters. It reminded him of something, but he put that on the side of his mind for the moment. Did the caller really let it ring for one hour?
'Well... no time like the present.' he thought, before stopping at the stupidity of that particular sentence right now.
He shook himself awake, and, after checking with Cassie to confirm that Sinistra was still in her quarters, he Apparated out and headed there. The woman was on her bed, reading some book from Gilderoy Lockhart – it wasn't hard to miss the man's face when it took most of the back cover – with a hand under her robe. Harry shook his head in dismay, before taking grasp of her mind like the previous time. Once her consciousness was bound, he Levitated the still-ringing mirror in her hands and took command of her body.
"Communicate." he made her hiss.
A blurred face appeared, who started to ask random questions, and Harry discovered that the man's voice was disguised as well. He also discovered the futility of this kind of questioning as all the answers were in good place in the woman's mind. It made him understand something, though: judging from the background of question asked, Harry was quite sure it was Snape on the other side.
"What have you found about the new teachers?" the blurry shape finally asked when the identification part was passed.
Harry checked what the woman would have answered, and he edited a good part out of it. "Defence is taught by the teacher who fought so hard at the train, Henry Evans."
"Evans... I wonder if it's the same line... go on." the interlocutor said.
"It seems that he lost an arm, there, but he seemed fine."
"How could he be fine?"
"He came to the Sorting Feast, just after the Sorting proper."
"Hmm... continue."
"Slytherin got seven new students, and Gryffindor got six."
"Anyone interested in... joining us?"
Harry knew that it was information they could find by other means, so, despite his initial idea of hiding it, he relayed the information. "We have four seventh year students interested to join us, and three sixth year. On top of what we know already, of course."
"Good."
"Care of Magical Creatures it taught by Hagrid."
"That oaf! Alright... continue."
"Alchemy is taught by-"
"WHAT? There's no Potion anymore?"
"Seems that Dumbledore decided to change his views on the course. It's taught by Flamel. He's the one who-"
"I know who Flamel is." Snape's voice, even filtered, carried all the man's contempt for the Alchemist and his work. Even if the man had lived more than six centuries. "Anything else?"
"That's all."
"Alright. Next call same time, in two weeks. Be faster to answer."
Harry bit back a retort and made the woman nod. When the mirror cleared, he Stunned Sinistra and edited her recent memories before unbinding her consciousness. He then returned to his rooms and Levitated the cursed mirror back where it was stored: the left drawer of his cupboard. However, when he started to close the drawer, a stray thought hit him. Impacted him, rather.
The mirror wouldn't ring!
If he left things as they were, the mirror wouldn't ring when his past self would reach the room, and he thus wouldn't be warned of the call, and he wouldn't go back in the past. Dumbledore had warned Harry of the possibilities of paradoxes, and Harry didn't want his person scattered over the floor of his apartment in half an hour.
He hurried back to Sinistra's room, and, while she was still asleep, he dug through her stuff and fished his mirror out. Of his brand new pair, it was the one which he had transfigured to look like hers. He then returned to his rooms and put the mirror where he had stored the Death Eaters' one. Satisfied, he Apparated to his second bedroom, and used the second mirror of the pair to place the call. A call he left hanging even though he was hearing the mirror ring behind the wall.
As he was doing so, a stray thought hit him: he wasn't strictly preventing inconsistencies in the timeline: he was doing as much as possible for his past self to never notice him, keeping his memories consistent. Was that the gist of the time-related paradoxes? Thinking about it made him realize that there were always things you changed by going back in time. Were those infamous paradoxes only connected to the time traveller alone?
He had many questions, but no one to ask them to. Even his distant cousin Alison, the most knowledgeable of his acquaintances with regard to magic, had reacted with genuine curiosity when he had told her about the Time Turner in one of his letters, this summer. And Harry didn't want to ask Dumbledore. The old man wouldn't understand how he had come to such insights. Thinking of the Headmaster reminded Harry that he had to do something about Sinistra: he had been lucky this time, but he wasn't sure to be able to deal with her efficiently if the mirror rang again. And, to be honest, he started to feel tired to play spy games without help.
However, he wasn't going to use Henry Evans' shape to turn the spy in. After pocketing his Phoenix ring, he morphed into Jerry Homest, an action which still took him half an hour – he needed to remove his prosthesis and to regrow his arm. When it was achieved, he looked at the time and nodded, satisfied. While he was morphing his body, his past self had noticed the call and disappeared in time.
He tried to flex his left arm to ease a possible cramp, but the reaction he got made him jump a foot or two in the air.
On the bed where he had placed it, his metal arm had moved!
Harry approached and tried to move his arm again, and, again, the steel arm responded. He looked at the limb he had regrown and frowned, before smiling, mentally thanking Goken. Using the nerves that his mind associated with his third arm, he finally succeeded in moving his left arm around.
His eyes returned to the false limb and he smirked. That was definitely weird... and interesting. He straightened up and, after cancelling his mirror call, he decided to Apparated to the edge of Hogwarts' wards for good measure. And he then went to see the Headmaster.
It was time to give the old man some food for thoughts.
A fortnight later...
The evening meal was best described as... usual. However, the Headmaster's intervention would start a hubbub that would last for days. He stood and waved his wand in a circle, making a booming sound which caught everyone's attention and stopped the discussions.
"Sorry to disturb your end of meal discussions, but, now that that wonderful pudding had been taken care of, I have some information I'd like to share with you. First of all, Hogsmeade weekends are returning, starting next week."
Dumbledore paused for the ensuing cheer to recede, before continuing. "As usual, third years and above are free to go, with your parents' approval. However, because of the attack on the Hogwarts Express, there will be security measures during these visits: Auror and teachers will be on patrol, and, if anything untoward happen, you will have to follow the procedures that will be outlined in the Defence class in the forthcoming week. Do not worry, though: new wards have been erected around the town, preventing all kind of trouble – except jokes, of course."
Some laughter echoed in the vast room, but most of it was forced, and it quieted quickly.
"Additionally, I have to tell you that there is a new building in Hogsmeade: a school!" Dumbledore said, and, after spending a couple seconds enjoying the confused looks he received, the old man went on. "A primary school, I should say. There aren't many pupils yet, but I have the feeling that their numbers will grow soon. For those of you not understanding – or not remembering – the concept, let's just say that it's a place for parents to put their child for a day so that they could do something priva-"
A loud and repeated cough interrupted him, and he turned to his Deputy Headmistress, his eyes twinkling again. "Alright, that's not how I intended to say it." he amended, earning himself frank bouts of laughter around the room. "Think of it as a place where underage students can be taught to control their magic in a legal and safe environment. It's like Hogwarts!" he exclaimed genially. "Except there are no classes as such."
Several groans echoed from the room – except for the Ravenclaw table, where students didn't find the classes as unattractive as the other Houses did. McGonagall stood and said something in Dumbledore's ear. He nodded and spoke up again. "My esteemed colleague informed me that there are courses, actually. The panel involved in building and staffing that school judged that some young wizards and witches lacked in writing, calculating, and common sense." He paused, thoughtful for a second, before turning to McGonagall. In a stage whisper loud enough to be heard in the whole hall, he said "Was that for me?"
Once again, laughter was heard around the room, and the old Headmaster straightened up, surveying the room with an amused expression. Once order was re-established, he spoke again.
"That was to say that you could find younger children in Hogsmeade – although rarely during weekends, in fact – and I expect you to be kind to them. If they are alone, bring them to the school – you can't miss it."
Dumbledore paused for breath before continuing. "Since I spoke about Defence a tad bit earlier, I guess it's the good moment to tell you about something that you already know. Clubs. As Professor Evans told you, several clubs will open, which aren't mandatory and won't include grades or anything that awful." Dumbledore pretended to ignore the sniggers and went on. "I have been informed that a music club is open to all wanting to learn, play, or just listen to music, every day after dinner. Club manager is Kenneth Towler, Gryffindor – although you'll find him in the music room more often than in his tower. The fighting clubs Professor Evans told you about, and which he will manage, will be held between five to seven – which means from after your last class until dinner, with a few minutes in between. Students in sixth or seventh year, most of you have conflicting schedules with these clubs, and you will only be able to enter after six. Those of you having chosen Defence for your NEWTs will remark, though, that the magical duelling club, held on Mondays, is a continuation of your Defence class. This club is mandatory for you. The unarmed fighting club will be held on Tuesdays, and, yes, for those of you knowing what that means, Professor Evans told me to inform you that it's Martian arts."
Harry snorted, as did numerous students around the hall. Unfazed, the old and slightly barmy old man continued. "Members of these two clubs can also participate in a third, held on Wednesdays, and about fighting with a mix of the techniques learnt there. There will be a fencing club on Thursdays, too, and an all-out duelling club on Fridays for those of you crazy enough to belong to the other ones. And, on Saturdays, for the craziest among us – and I don't mean my own self – the all-out fighting club will be held. Know that none of these clubs has a higher precedence than homework, detentions, or other classes, though."
Dumbledore paused to drink some butterbeer from his goblet, and allowed the whispers to die down before continuing his long talk.
"Another good bit of information: Quidditch!" Another cheer. "Thank you. We are doing things a bit differently this year, and you will understand why in a few minutes. First of all, there will be one more position to be filled, but it's not a playing one. We, the teachers, distinctively noticed that some people helped their team play, and we felt that it was only fair to help you organize yourselves accordingly. Thus comes, like for the professional teams, the Coach position. As this is the first time we do that in Hogwarts, the faculty has taken the liberty of selecting Coaches for the different teams."
Dumbledore paused and looked at the expectant young faces in front of him. "Can Douglas Dougal, Martin McAllister, Hermione Granger, and William Garnet stand up?"
When the four students had stood, quite stunned at the decision, Dumbledore spoke again. "Here are the coaches for our teams. The Captains have been selected as well, for those Houses devoid of them. Oliver Wood, Cedric Diggory, Brutus Armstrong, and Marcus Flint are your Quidditch Captains this year. Yes, you can stand up, too. As usual, the new captains have been selected because of their obvious interest in the game, the fact that they belong to the team already, and because they have grades high enough to ensure that they won't fail their year because of Quidditch. The coaches have been selected because they are interested in Quidditch but not in playing, they are fair, and, like the Captains, they have sufficient grades so that the activity won't impact them tremendously. Thank you all for meeting these requirements." he said to the eight standing – and blushing – students. He started applauding, and was quickly imitated by the whole room.
When the applause receded, the students sat down, and Dumbledore continued his speech. "The Coaches will have to manage the team, during the game and out of it. The Captaincy is kept, but it now focuses solely on managing the team in the air. We have the hope of producing more experienced players that way, thus enhancing our local and national teams."
The room emitted a massive cheer at these words, and several students started to discuss between them agitatedly.
"More annoying rules: should a coach want to step down, for any reason, they can choose their successor. The coach has authority over the team's captain, but that can be overruled if the whole team rallies the captain's ideas. If that happens too many times... well, you will have a conflict to settle before the team loses too many games. Now, as I said before, the coach is responsible for holding the tryouts to fill not seven, but fourteen positions: the regular team and a reserve one. This is to provide reserve players should there be a need about it, and I'm sure that it would enhance your practises as well. In fact, I have been told that almost all professional teams did like that already." Dumbledore turned thoughtful. "Things sure changed in the last 150 years."
Laughter rang through the room again, before being replaced by excited whispers.
"I'm not finished." the Headmaster said, and silence returned. "I'm not even finished with Quidditch. I seriously hope to raise Hogwarts' average skill in Quidditch, because, this year, a particular event has been scheduled on top of everything: there will be two more games of Quidditch scheduled this year, after the final exams. The House team in possession of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup at that time will have the challenge of going against two other Quidditch teams to try to gain a special trophy for the school."
There was a silence following these words, and, rolling her eyes at having to play the accomplice in the man's theatrics, McGonagall whispered some more words to Dumbledore's ear.
"Oh, yes." Dumbledore said. "I forgot to tell you who you are going against. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons." He smiled while a stunned silence welcomed his words. "I expect you to crush them."
The students reacted immediately, and shouted their approval, before turning towards each other and generally gravitating around the Quidditch captains and coaches. Unheeded, Dumbledore sat down and knocked back the rest of his butterbeer. He then looked at McGonagall and smiled.
"That year is going to be interesting."
He had no idea just how much.
The students had taken quite a long time to vacate the Great Hall, but some teachers had departed already. For some attentive viewer, it would seem that, certain evenings, several teachers left within a few minute of each other. However, there has never been a pattern of departure for the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and they safely congregated in the Headmaster's office soon afterwards.
"Thank you for being here tonight." Dumbledore said, standing up. The move dragged the eyes of everyone towards the old Headmaster, and to the two empty seats next to him. Alastor Moody sat on the other side, a smug smile on his scarred face. Thanks to his charmed glasses, Harry knew why, but he refrained from showing anything – after all, he didn't intend to tell anyone about his glasses.
Dumbledore continued. "There has been to be quite an uproar in St Mungo a fortnight ago, and I told them to keep it under wraps until the case could be presented. Now that the patients are stable, physically and mentally, I would like you to welcome two of our oldest members: Frank and Alice Longbottoms!"
Two Invisibility cloaks were removed and the two Aurors appeared, refreshed and happy, their body still thin but their faces smiling.
Seeing that most of the members were either too shocked to speak or were too recently included to know about them, Frank spoke first. "It's nice to be back, guys." Frank said.
"It's not a trick?" asked Flitwick. "You're the real... you?"
"Yes. Ask Mad-Eye if you must, but he grilled me for half an hour before trying to break my ribs by hugging me."
The old Auror nodded, before barking "Constant Vigilance!" something which awoke the others.
After several minutes of small talk, Alice asked the million-Galleon question. "Now, it's all good and fine, but where is Neville?"
"I wanted to show to the Order that you are alive and well, for them not to curse you on sight later, thinking that you are some Polyjuiced Death Eater." Dumbledore said, before turning to Moody. "Alastor suggested the idea."
Moody grumbled, and Dumbledore didn't press the issue. "Now that we know, I think that meeting your son can be arranged. I still need to talk with you, so I will be glad if you can come here afterwards. Minerva, can you find an empty classroom for them?"
McGonagall acquiesced and led the couple out of the office. In a display of reborn skill, the two of them Disillusioned themselves when they entered the public area, before following the Transfiguration teacher along the way. Each of the three burned with impatience at talking with each other, but the couple was even more anxious at meeting their 13 years old son after all that time. They didn't actually remember him visiting them, and most of their memories of him were as a baby. The two of them had discussed about it in depth, though, and had found that they had memories of him as a teenager. And at school. Wanting to see Neville in person before anything else, they had never thanked Dumbledore for what they thought was a sly manoeuvre from him to get them on their feet.
When McGonagall entered the small classroom again, she was followed by a healthy teenage boy, a boy who was self-confident enough to have engaged into small talk with his stern Head of House on the way. When she locked and Silenced the door, though, he looked at her in surprise.
"Mr Longbottom... Neville... it's about your parents... something had happened." she started, and he paled. Seeing that he was taking it the wrong way, she quickly amended herself. "Something wonderful! Sorry for misleading you."
He looked at her with incomprehension etched in his features. "But, Professor... they... what is it? What can it be? I've been told, again and again, that their state couldn't improve."
"Oh, but they have, believe me. I learnt it just this evening."
Neville was practically bouncing on his feet. "I need to see them! When can I leave?"
"There is no need for you to leave-"
"Professor, please!"
"-because they are here."
A pause. "They are here?" whispered Neville.
McGonagall nodded. "They didn't want to shock you by appearing while you thought them in St Mungo, but they are right here." she said, before looking to where she knew the couple was waiting. "Alice, Frank... it's whenever you are ready."
The two revived Aurors cancelled the Disillusion spell and looked at Neville with moist eyes. "Come to us, son." Frank said. "There's so much we have to catch up." Alice added.
The boy himself was having trouble breathing, his feeling of joy threatening to overwhelm him. "My parents..." he whispered, before lunging at them for a three-way hug.
Minerva McGonagall smiled, and dabbed her kerchief at her crying eyes before leaving the classroom, locking the door behind her – she knew either Alice or Frank could bypass it, and she didn't want them to be disturbed.
At the same time, back in the Headmaster's office...
"Now, I have to tell you about some business we have with spies." Dumbledore said. "Over the year, I noticed that some of you came across a spy I have, even antagonizing her in a few cases. It's high time I come clear with you about it. Minerva knows, so there's no need to repeat this outside of this circle. In fact, I added some charms in this office so that nothing important can be revealed accidentally outside of it."
"Your spy, Albus?" Moody said, bringing the older man on his track again.
"Ah, yes. And, before I tell you her name, know that, for an unknown reason, she has changed from the inquisitive nature some of you might remind her for. In fact, her more recent articles contain nothing but the truth. They don't sell as well, but it appears that she doesn't care anymore. Her name is Rita Skeeter."
"WHAT?"
The exclamation came from several persons, and the group started to debate about the reporter-turned-spy. When it appeared that the debate wouldn't calm itself, Dumbledore poked his wand in the air once, producing a loud clap and silencing the group.
"Thank you. All you have to know is that I inspected her mind thoroughly and found her trustworthy. From now on, if you see her somewhere, please don't go out of your way to annoy her."
Some members looked disgruntled at this, but, as Dumbledore was staring at them, they nodded.
"Good." Dumbledore said. "That's the good spy. Now, I have received word about a bad spy."
"Snape?" someone asked in a mocking voice, and Dumbledore shook his head.
"Not Seve- I guess I'm not familiar with him anymore... Not Snape, no. But someone from Hogwarts staff. Someone else, I mean."
"WHAT?" The exclamation was louder, this time, nobody there accepting the fact.
"As you might know, or not, Snape had been held in his quarters, last June, and he managed to circumvent the charms I put on his door and acquire his wand, before confronting two other teachers on Hogwarts grounds. He couldn't have escaped without help, and I had suspicions since then. I couldn't do much because of the holidays, and I have only recently received word – and proof – that the Death Eater, and spy for Voldemort, is Professor Sinistra."
The collective gasp made him pause in his speech, and he shook his head sadly. "I do not know how that had been done, but I know that she wasn't one when we recruited her. Perhaps Snape..." he trailed off.
"What are we going to do?" Harry asked, playing his part as a surprised and disgusted teacher.
"I don't want her near my babies!" Molly Weasley exclaimed suddenly. "Surely, you can expel her, Albus!"
"I could, but I would need to recruit a new teacher, then, and, with Voldemort on the prowl, I am quite sure that I will have a candidate or two belonging to his Death Eaters. Even if I can read the minds completely to learn their true loyalties – something I did with Rita Skeeter, by the way – it is not guaranteed that I will even have a non-Death Eater candidate. An announcement of vacancy could very well spell the death of every Light-aligned Astronomy specialist." He paused for a few seconds, before sighing. "I don't want to fire her."
"WHAT?"
"There's a proverb saying "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." and I feel it is appropriate. If I fire her, she returns to the Death Eaters. If I keep her, I can feed her with false information."
"It's a dangerous game, Albus." Moody interjected. "Especially with students around."
"That is why I want your input on this. Any idea?"
"We can put her under Imperius." Mundungus Fletcher said from his end of the table.
"And who would cast the Unforgivable?" asked Dumbledore, before shaking his head. "Despite being interesting in theory, this option presents two disadvantages: there are some signs which make the spell visible, especially when one is forced to act against their will. They are almost unrecognisable, but I am sure the Death Eaters are familiar with the curse. The second drawback is that she's highly resistant to mind-control curses and she might as well shake it off."
"How do you know?" Moody asked.
"The source who gave me proof about her loyalties told me that as well. It appears that he's quite the Legilimens himself."
"Who is it?" enquired Moody, always the paranoid one. "Your source, I mean."
Dumbledore thought about it before nodding to himself. "Jerry Homest."
"The reporter?" Molly asked. "You are consorting with the wrong people, there, Albus. First Skeeter, then that Homest person."
"At least he writes coherent articles." Arthur interjected, trying to calm his wife. "And he's the only one who published an interview of Harry Potter, which is a proof that he's not really in league with Voldemort."
"What does Potter have to do in the whole picture?" asked Harry.
"I will tell you later." Dumbledore said. "For now, we need to focus on Sinistra's problem, without firing her."
McGonagall entered the office at that very moment, and she heard the last sentence. "We could keep her for a while, monitoring her, discreetly blocking her access to information, while quietly recruiting someone else. When we find someone able to take her place, we hold her in a cell and Polyjuice her replacement. While she's imprisoned, she can't communicate."
There was a pause as the stern teacher sat down.
"What?" she asked. "I just happen to have heard this before, and I had time to think about it."
"There's one problem, though." Dumbledore said. "Her channel of discussion with the Death Eaters is an enchanted mirror which poisons anyone holding it who is not a marked Death Eater themselves."
A pause.
"That seriously limits our options." Moody deadpanned.
"We could put her in a place where she will be in Hogwarts without being there. A sort of cell where she would still think that she's a teacher here." McGonagall said pensively.
"What do you mean?" Moody asked.
"There's a special room in this castle, where we could hold her. This room can be modelled into pretty much anything, and I am sure that our Headmaster can model it into the whole Astronomy Tower."
Dumbledore looked at her, and his twinkle returned to his eyes. "The Room of Requirements... of course!"
And so, the plan laid in front of them, the Order of the Phoenix separated, a couple of them being given the task of discreetly finding a worthwhile Astronomy teacher in other countries.
When Harry returned to his office, he noticed a school owl waiting for him. He knew that mail sent to teacher was redirected to their quarters, except when a particular spell was applied on the message to denote urgency – in which case, the owl was to find the teacher wherever he was.
The message was small, and to the point.
We need to talk. -- Nicholas
Harry looked at the message, frowning. For fourteen days, he had carefully avoided the old Alchemist. He was rarely going to meals, and always late, so the old man was already sitting and he could choose the table's other side. There was something about him that screamed at his enhanced senses, and he couldn't put his finger on it.
Apparently, Flamel had noticed. And, apparently, he wanted to set things straight. 'Why now, damn him.' Harry thought, before remembering what he had to do now, "now" being the operative word although, once again, it held a different meaning for Harry. He had to do something earlier this afternoon, and he activated his Time Turner to do so.
Once done, he Apparated to Venice, activating his mask and cloak on the way.
When he left Venice, four hours afterwards, Harry was tired. The Knighthood was quite small, but the members had argued fiercely against Harry's inclusion in their numbers. Leonardo had been forced to use his political weight in the equation, reminding the knights that he was their leader and that there was an old law allowing non-Venetian people in the Knighthood. He had also insisted on Harry's help in bringing the Doge position back to a Venetian, and the resulting positive impact on the community's welfare.
After much grumbling, Harry had finally been inducted, and, as the knighthood's first goal was to protect Venice, he had received a shield emblazoned with the Knighthood's crest: the winged lion of St Mark. He learnt that he would receive the accompanying sword after two years as novice, but he had the feeling that the other knights would never allow it. It didn't matter, however: he had his own blades.
After the induction ceremony ended, the reunion of knights reverted to an informal meeting, catching up for the long years the knighthood had spent without a head. Harry took advantage of the casualness to escape to Switzerland to rest for a bit.
When he entered the house, Harry smiled, and realized that his instinct of coming here might have been dictated by his visions. Powell was here. The man had skirted the two last weekly meetings, leaving only one message saying that he was fine but in the middle of a deep infiltration mission. Self-assigned, of course.
The two of them greeted each other cordially, and the man explained about his mission. A month ago, he had asked Harry to give him the face and identity of one of the CIA agents they knew as dead. The man had then gone to Langley, to make sure that the spree against wizards the GRU had initiated hadn't transmitted to the American Agency. Once satisfied, he had carefully removed his tracks and was now taking some well-deserved vacation in Geneva. After returning the man's physical attributes and identity to normalcy, Harry spent an hour pleasantly discussing with him, before taking his leave.
Like he had been doing every day for two weeks, he turned back time and headed to Japan. Regrowing his arms was easier, now, and he was able to summon one of his samurai weapons in each of his hands. Now that he mastered them a little better, he tried to fight with all four at the same time, but he constantly found himself knocked by his own weapons. Fighting with four blades was edgy at best, and he thanked his good star that he'd learnt to solidify his skin so early in his life.
His workout done, he retracted his additional arms and returned to Hogwarts. Because of his trip to Venice, he had skipped dinner, and, despite what Goken had offered, he was still hungry. Hungry and exhausted. However, all thoughts of eating disappeared from his mind when he noticed the presence in his quarters.
Nicholas Flamel was sitting in one of his chairs, smoking a pipe, and had been reading a book. When Harry had crossed the wall to his apartment, the man had looked up and closed the book.
Still in the gaseous reality, Harry recoiled and started to turn back, when he noticed something strange: the man was looking at him.
But it wasn't possible, right? He was invisible, and intangible as well... and Nicholas Flamel was looking straight at him. Flamel's next words brought home to Harry the fact that the old alchemist knew much more than his counterparts.
"I want to talk to you, Harry."
'Damn.'
The old man was now standing, waiting politely. Harry continued to draw back, the man's eyes still boring through his own. "I will be offended if you leave, Mr Potter. I might even cast an anti-Apparation field to force you to appear."
Harry sighed. His friends had told him about the man, and he knew he was someone who kept his word, in niceties and in threats. After raising every shield he could think of, mental and physical, he Apparated in.
"So nice of you to gratify me of your presence." the man said, before gesturing to the empty table. "Tea?"
"Yes, plea-" Harry started, before stopping, startled at the facility with which the man had conjured an elaborated tea set with amber liquid steaming from china cups and a few scones on the side. "Wow."
"I took the liberty of casting several privacy spells on the room, and a locking spell on the door." Flamel said. "I know you aren't fond of others knowing your little secret."
Harry almost snorted, but a glance from the old man prevented this, and he coughed instead. After recovering, he addressed him. "What was so important that you had to invade my quarters?"
"You. Me. The world. Voldemort. Take a pick." the man answered sternly, before sipping his tea. 'And don't take that tone with me, young man.' he added, sending this directly to Harry's mind.
"Alright, then." Harry said, sitting back and forcefully pushing his tiredness away. He knew he could stay awake for a very long time, that way, even if he would have to sleep for even longer afterwards – but he had a Time Turner, after all. "Since you appeared here uninvited, let's start by you."
"What do you want to know?"
"How can I be sure that you really are Nicholas Flamel? How you know about me? And how you... saw me, right... before?"
"To your first question, there are numerous answers, but you can rest assured that I never lie. I am Nicholas Flamel, the 666 years old alchemist."
"666 years? That reminds me of something..."
"The number of the beast?" the man smiled. "Another invention to deal with weak-willed individuals. My friend Michel was fond of such things, before he went into a Divination spree... well, of course, you don't know him. Michel of Nostre Dame? Nostradamus?"
Harry shook his head, the name not having reached his ears before. His attention was still on the man's age, too. "You must be the oldest man on earth!" he exclaimed, awe in his voice.
Flamel frowned. "I am not, but I will not discuss about that issue right now. To your second question, my answer will be that I collected numerous clues over the last few days I spent at Hogwarts."
"But I've not... err..."
"Yes, you have not sought my presence. But I do not care. I just sought yours."
"Uh. Alright, then. Why?"
"You asked me three questions, young man, and I will answer them in the correct order before you will allow me to ask three questions. Understood?"
"Yes. Sorry, sir."
"To answer your third question, I only have to inform you that you are not the only one able to feel the others around you. You are quite a brute at it, though." the man started, not stopping when Harry tried to interrupt him. "You expand your senses without taking into account the fact that other similar people might be around." Once again, Harry tried to disrupt the man's talk, but to no avail. "I know you have seldom met people able enough, but your numerous talents need to be refined. That is why I am here. Now, my turn: are you intending to follow the prophecy and kill Voldemort? How? When? And why were you avoiding me?"
Harry stayed there, open-mouthed at the man's words and their implication.
"Dumbledore..." he whispered, a vague anger starting to rise in his heart.
"Albus does not know I know. He always had a soft spot for several things, and not hiding his thoughts all the time is one of those. But I am sure you know about this already."
Harry noticed the man's expression and knew he had to answer the questions. "First question: I don't know. Aren't prophecies made to predict the future? If not, I could leave Voldemort to someone else, but, since I found the prophecy, I've always thought I'd be going against him, so... yes. Who else? As to how and when, I don't really know. I'm teaching fighting clubs here, but it's also for me to learn what strategies might work better in battle. And I avoided you because I somehow sensed your power, sir, and I was afraid."
"My power?" the man replied. "Were you not afraid that I would claim your wand? And, yes, I do know it is yours, now. You bought it, so it is yours."
"It was that at first, sir, but, as you put it, I "brutally" sensed magic around me once, and felt your true power."
"My true power?" Flamel answered, and Harry looked at him, surprised at the change of voice. The man was clearly surprised, but he recovered quickly, and became thoughtful. "Giving your power a value of 100, what score would you give mine?"
Harry thought about it for a moment before answering. "1500, sir." he said in a little voice.
Flamel smiled. "Good. Very good." he said, before sipping his tea.
"Sir? Why aren't you fighting, then? I mean... since you are so knowledgeable and powerful, you must be quite invincible on the battlefield... right? You could take care of Voldemort, were it not for that prophecy."
"You are wrong. Nobody is invincible." Flamel answered. "For your information, contrarily to what a few drama-prone people might think, prophecies have never dictated the future. They are merely guidelines. A man, a long time ago, made a prophecy about a town being destroyed. Nineveh, I think it was called. The town council met to think about it, and they decided to stop mining underneath the town because that was purely caused by greed and it demeaned the slaves' condition. Thus they unknowingly saved their town from destruction. Now, what would have happened if the prophecy hadn't been made?"
"The town would have been destroyed."
"You see? The prophecy was never accomplished, but it helped solve their problem."
"So that means you could help the wizarding world against Voldemort, right?"
"That's where you are wrong. I can not. I did not say that I did not want to, but I am not allowed to."
"Not allowed?"
Despite the privacy charms in place, Flamel looked around, before leaning towards Harry as if to share an important secret. "My master does not want me to."
"Your master? But... who can it be?" asked Harry. Now that he was on speaking terms with Flamel, he imagined that he could speak to his master as well, and possibly reason him.
Flamel smiled. "You hide your thoughts well, but I still hear them, young man. I can not tell you the name of my master, yet. Sit back, now, and I will tell you a little story. It is not something that is taught in History of Magic, but know that it is the truth.
"A long time ago, centuries before the Founding of Hogwarts, one particular wizard wanted to learn everything that was possible to learn about magic. In doing so, he also drew around him a cohort of people wanting to learn. Some wanted to learn magic for greed, others for power, and others for enlightenment. Those who learnt for greed didn't know how to battle, and were killed by the people they stole from. Those who wanted power got it, but they didn't know how to transmit that knowledge to their descendants, thus creating fleeting kingdoms. Only remained those who wanted to learn for the pleasure of enlightening their mind, and they followed their leader around the world, learning to respect their environment at the same time. These were called the Enlightened.
"However, in the group of scholars, a particular witch wasn't agreeing with the peaceful views of the leader, and, when she noticed that the power-hungry followers were cast out, she bid her time. She did so well in learning that she only came second to the master himself, and started to take lessons directly from him. That sparked a romance between the two, but the heart of the lady was already darkened. In the aftermath of their first intercourse, she took advantage of the man's drowsy countenance to cast the most powerful imprisonment charm she knew of – she had just learnt it. She then fled from the Enlightened, deciding to build her kingdom on earth, a kingdom which she called Umbra, an appropriate name. It started a dark era which only ended when the remaining Enlightened scholars pooled their power to Vanish her whole castle. Few of them survived.
"They thought their leader gone, but he was not. The prison spell was a wicked one: it was designed to take its power from the magic of the victim, and it was keeping said victim alive as much as possible. The man was very powerful, and, consequently, the prison kept him safely in place.
"Despite allowing sound and light to pass through, it was hidden behind other spells, and no one spoke to the old man for centuries. He was alone and forgotten, but never grew annoyed. He was constantly learning new things about magic, and, when two young boys and two young girls found his hiding place by accident, he taught them numerous things.
"These four were stunned by the amount of knowledge they received, and forgot to mark the path back to the hidden cave. They never came back. Instead, they built a castle and focused on transmitting what they learnt to the younger generations. Hogwarts."
Flamel's eyes had a faraway look, and Harry didn't dare interrupting the recounting.
"It took a great deal of research to find the place, believe me. Once there, Merlin taught me numerous things. I taught others as well, and we all continue to do so, in a never-ending cycle of learning. However, in order to prevent what had happened with Nimue, each of us took an oath of non-violence." Flamel's eyes recovered focus, and he looked at Harry. "I could fight, Harry, but the first offensive spell cast would take my magic and my life away. In short, I can't take another human life. But we can help you."
"Why did you tell me all this?" Harry asked. "I mean... it's really interesting, but... wait a second... you said... Merlin?"
Flamel nodded.
"And..." Harry processed what the man had said. "He's alive?"
Another nod.
A pause. "Wow." Another pause. "Wicked!"
"There is more, Harry." Flamel continued. "Merlin had, over the centuries, perfected his link with magic, and he knows everything that happens in the world. He could escape his prison, now, but it is now the only thing that maintains him alive, so he can't. He felt you, Harry, and he pushed a bit of his knowledge towards you, a few times over the years."
Harry nodded, dumbfounded at the implications of all this.
"The reason why I told you all this is because we need your help."
"Sorry? You need my help? What for?"
"You do remember we all took an oath of non-violence, yes? Merlin felt the threat represented by Voldemort, and he wants that particular menace to be stopped. He accepts to bend the rules a little bit, so that you could enter our group and still fight. He knows your heart is pure despite the trials life heaped on you."
Harry was flabbergasted. Here was a legendary man, here was a man who was much more powerful than he was, and that man was asking him for help! "What's the group's name, now?" he asked absentmindedly.
"It's still the Enlightened, although it could be said in other languages. Some have called us the Keepers of Knowledge, and, wanting to copy our successes, other societies have been created with knowledge being their goal. I remember, when I was young, my parents told me about muggles powers in place persecuting such groups, like the Templars. It is one of the reasons why I don't normally advertise about myself. To this day, I seem to have chosen the proper path, since I'm still alive."
"People know about the Philosopher's Stone, though."
"That's a red herring. The Elixir of Life is not hand made. It simply can not. When you have time, after defeating Voldemort, I will be able to tell you more, but not now."
"And who's in?"
Flamel smiled. "Less than a dozen wizards and witches. Because of our oath, we tend to keep to ourselves. Shields only last that long, you know. You don't know any of the other members. Yes," he smiled, "that means that Dumbledore isn't in. Neither is Voldemort, despite the fact that he wanted to. He apprenticed under my Russian counterpart but, when he learnt about the oath, he attacked his master by surprise, bound him, and tried to extract all his knowledge. It's thankful he didn't succeed."
"What happened?"
"Mikhail committed suicide: he cast an attack spell."
A long pause.
Harry thought about it, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind. After a minute, he nodded resolutely. "Alright. I will need everything I can learn to defeat Voldemort, especially with Malfoy and Lestrange in their current state. I'm ready to take courses with Merlin himself, if needed."
Flamel smiled. "You won't. Few can discuss with Merlin, nowadays. His speech patterns have evolved over time. You will need to spend some time as my apprentice, first. But don't worry, you will meet him someday."
"Your... apprentice? Like Dumbledore? But..."
"When a master in several trades takes an apprentice, it can be in either of these trades. Albus was young and he had a primary interest in alchemy. In your case, I know you need more than that. And, I may not be able to use them, but I know a good deal of battle spells."
Harry gulped. "I'd be honoured, sir."
Now that Harry was – unofficially, yet – Flamel's apprentice, the two of them were seen together more often. The old alchemist even took the habit of going to the magical duelling club to observe and comment – it wasn't because he couldn't fight that he didn't have something to say. At one point, the old man even made a couple comments on Harry's own duelling stances. These were slightly unfavourable comments, and two Slytherins had the misfortune of thinking that their professor had mollified somewhat. When they tried to take advantage of it, though, they found themselves devoid of mouth for the rest of the period – Transfiguration was really efficient to shut someone up.
Most of the time, Harry's courses went pretty well. He continued to build on what Remus and Sirius had done the previous years, and the students respected him, even if he continued to mark one of them at each period. After a month doing so, his "surprise attacks" had been repelled only eleven times, and, these eleven times, his second attempt had always struck home – he had warned them that he'd continue until one of them was marked.
The clubs went well, too. There were a surprisingly high number of students wanting to participate to the first two clubs of the week, but it was a split participation. The magical duelling club's attendance was mostly purebloods wanting to make good use of what they already knew, while the unarmed fighting brought most muggleborns, a large part of which having practised some kind of martial art before. These two clubs were such a success that Harry had to split them in two: after having tested the students on their first meeting, he used the second Defence classroom to hold those who were there more to show off their skills rather than to learn. Several teachers agreed to take part in the clubs as well, and there was always at least one of them to manage the second classroom.
Since there were not that many students taking both clubs, there were few members attending the more complicated ones, to the point of only having eight members to the Saturday club – and six of those were Harry's friends. Harry didn't want the clubs to be just a place where people can show off. He wanted them to realize that there were many ways of fighting and surviving. He started jostling down ideas about how to do that, and it was beginning to acquire form.
During that first month of school, Harry also realized something: as a Professor, he had numerous interesting conversations with the other teachers, especially with Flamel, but he also had fewer interactions with his friends, and he disliked that. Like with his clubs, he had started to find ideas about that: for instance, he had helped to organize a little party for Hermione's birthday. It had been held in the inter-house Games Room, in order to bring friends from all Houses, and it finished in his quarters with his closest friends. Aside from this one occurrence, though, he had seldom seen his friends as friends and not as students. Tracey helped him deal with it, and the two of them spent an hour or so each evening, talking about the days, about people and other things.
Something happened, though, which would change all this.
It started on a Wednesday evening, ten days after Hermione's birthday. Harry entered the Great Hall for dinner, and found that it was rather empty. There were fewer students than usual, and the only teachers there were those not belonging to the Order of the Phoenix. Putting two and two together, Harry briefly checked with Cassie for Dumbledore's location, before hurrying, on foot, towards the Headmaster's office.
Truth be told, the room contained all the teachers who were Order members as well, except one: Professor Sinistra wasn't a member, and she was sitting on a chair in front of Moody and Dumbledore, the former apparently conducting a Veritaserum-induced enquiry.
"Do you know where the missing students are?"
"Yes."
"Where are they?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Where is that?"
"Huh?"
It was known that the Veritaserum, by putting the conscious mind to sleep, was forcing the interrogator to use simple questions. Sinistra not having understood Moody's question, Dumbledore repeated it.
"Where is the place where the missing students are?"
"In Hogwarts."
"In which part of Hogwarts is the place where the missing students are?"
"Under... underwater." Sinistra said, visibly struggling against the potion.
"Underwater?" exclaimed Sprout. "Stop this nonsense, woman! Where are they?"
"Somewhere safe." was the only answer she'd got.
"I don't think we can get more than that." Moody said. "But we can negotiate by using her trial if she's a Death Eater. You have your pensieve?"
At Dumbledore's nod, the old Auror turned back to the accused. "Are you a Death Eater?"
Sinistra didn't answer, and she started to shake uncontrollably.
"Albus!" McGonagall called. "What is happening to her?"
"Either she fights it, or she has conflicting memories." Dumbledore answered. "Can we stop there?" he asked Moody, who shook his head.
"Either we stun her, or we wait for the truth serum to stop acting." he said, before glancing at the struggling woman with a thoughtful frown. "I saw that before!" he exclaimed suddenly. "She Obliviated herself! That's why she fights the serum! Stupefy!"
Professor Sinistra recoiled in her chair and toppled backwards, her fall sending her crashing into some members' legs, and they stepped back. When they noticed the woman's tortured expression, many of them gasped.
Harry didn't. He was busy trying to enter her mind, but he only found rubble. As if her whole mind had collapsed. Deciding that it wouldn't be productive to lose his own consciousness in the rubble of another person's mind, he looked around and asked the question that burned his lips. "What's happening?"
"A raven sent me a message from Voldemort." Dumbledore said, before sighing when still a few people gasped as he uttered the name. "The message tells us that twelve muggleborn students are going to die today. The Heads of House already counted and found the names of these students. My... I don't find the students with any of my usual trinkets, but that doesn't mean that they aren't there. Most likely, they are somewhere, hidden behind a Confundus charm." Dumbledore paused for a second, before continuing. "As soon as the message had arrived, I contacted Mad-Eye and we interrogated Sinistra, because she's certainly the one to have done so. In fact, what she told us reflects this. But she can't answer, now." He paused for several seconds, before looking at the assembled teachers apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. I should have locked her better."
"Let's focus on the students, for now." McGonagall said. "That's the important question: where they are."
"And why today?" Harry mused. At this, the others looked at him inquiringly, but he was still addressing the Headmaster. "I mean... it's not an important date for Voldemort, and, unless I'm wrong, there's no particular magical ritual requiring the 29th of September to be completed at... unless they require the full moon."
"Why, indeed." Dumbledore mused, before looking at the teachers with a resolute expression. "Alright, let's do this. We will organize search parties for them. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, you know what to do. Small teams, with capable teachers or prefect heading them. And you can take her to the Hospital Wing, too." he said, nodding at the prone form of Professor Sinistra. "Alastor, if you can look around the Ministry to see if any dark activity happens, we never know and Henry raised a valid question."
Harry was thinking of ways to help the search parties, and he found one quickly. "Sir? If you call Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, they could help. They are Animagi, aren't they? With canine sense of smell, and all..."
"Good thinking, lad!" Moody exclaimed, before looking at Dumbledore. "I will be back." he said, before disappearing through the Floo.
Harry was next at the fireplace, requesting Remus and Sirius. They answered quickly, and, despite their tired state, they agreed to help and came through the Floo as well.
"Henry." Dumbledore called, before dismissing everyone else.
When only the two of them were there, Dumbledore looked at him for a second, before speaking. "This castle is large, and the search will take a long time."
"Albus?" Harry asked, not seeing where that was headed.
"However, the school contains numerous secret passages, and there's one only a few people can open. I know you are in contact with Jerry Homest. Can you tell him to come here to open the Chamber of Secrets?"
Harry frowned, giving all the impression of debating the question. "It's not that I don't want to, Albus, but Jerry is very secretive, and I'm not sure to be able to actually reach him. Generally, it's the other way around." he looked around, and his gaze fell on Fawkes, who looked back at him before trilling a soft sound.
"I'll do it, young speaker. Just give me some message and I'll flash to your quarters."
Harry nodded, as if he was thinking to himself – which he was, in a way: he was wondering how some people and creatures seemed to know so much about his life. "Can I use your phoenix, Albus? At least, if he doesn't find Jerry, he will be quicker to come back."
"Go ahead."
Harry wrote a short message and gave it to Fawkes, who disappeared. "Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about, Albus?"
"No, thank you. You should join a search team, now. I will stay here for a few minutes. I have to place a few firecalls."
Harry nodded and left the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he Apparated to his quarters, where he found the regal bird waiting for him with a twinkle of his own in the eyes. Harry scribbled a quick answer for Dumbledore and gave it to the proud bird. "See you later, Fawkes." he said, patting the bird's head. "Feel free to have a chat here someday."
The phoenix nodded, before disappearing in a ball of flames. Harry then sat on his bed and concentrated. Twelve students. Nobody had told him their names, and he had forgotten to ask. Hoping that they were fine, he contacted his friends, one after the other. Most of them answered at once. Ginny didn't.
He tried to force more power in reaching the girl, and finally got the start of an answer, but it was very faint. However, through the frail connection, she managed to send him what she was seeing, and Harry knew she was in trouble. He also knew that the Headmaster's instincts were accurate as ever.
He Apparated to the Chamber of Secrets and immediately noticed the hole in its ceiling and the water coming from it and slowly filling the room. He had already supposed that the Chamber was under the lake because of the damp environment the large room bathed in, but this was a proof.
A quick and focused repairing charm later, the ceiling was whole again, and hole was no more. Harry took a minute, then, to make sure that all the students were alive and well despite being out cold.
They all were.
The six of them.
Harry frowned. Where were the other six?
As the students were still unconscious, he had no qualm Apparating out, and he used his greater speed to search the numerous corridors around the Chamber. He only found five students, there, and he brought them with the others. After positioning them close to each other to keep themselves warm, he returned to his apartment, where he quickly morphed into his moustached alter ego. "Quickly" here meant that he kept his steel arm, only hiding it in a long sleeved outfit with gloves. Once ready, he Apparated outside, near Hagrid's hut, before heading towards the castle. As he was walking towards the castle entrance, he became aware of two things: the Headmaster was waiting for him there, his gaze resting on him; and there was someone atop the Astronomy tower. Someone standing on the battlement, waving with the evening's cold breeze.
Harry stopped, and tried to see who it was. However, as he was doing so, the figure seemed to falter for a second, before toppling over, plunging towards a certain death.
Not caring anymore if Dumbledore watched, Harry Apparated out quickly and hurled himself through space, the forcefully displaced air making a twin bang in the castle's still atmosphere. His trajectory was made to intersect the falling person, and he caught said person deftly, before noticing a few things: it was the Head Girl; and she was naked. Several runes were visible on her body – Harry would later learn that these were simple runes which disposition reinforced will-suppressing spells.
His own body started to react strangely – well, not that strangely, but he hadn't touched a naked female before – and he almost dropped her in shock, before noticing that she was almost blue from the cold, and shivering uncontrollably. He took a handkerchief from his belt and transfigured it into a robe which he slipped over her head. After applying a warming charm on said robes, he left her to the care of Professor Sprout, who had just arrived with her search team. She left, the students following her. As he was waiting for Dumbledore, Harry caught two of them, obviously muggle, wondering if a jet had passed the sound barrier near Hogwarts.
Dumbledore arrived from where Sprout had left, having obviously discussed with her about the Head Girl. "Good morning, Jerry."
"We will see if it is good when all the students will be found." Harry answered. "Was she one of them?"
The old man nodded, and Harry grinned in the privacy of his own mind. He broke into a decided walk, Dumbledore falling in step behind him. The two of them soon arrived in front of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
"Open." Harry hissed, and the sinks separated noisily.
The racket brought the local ghost, and Moaning Myrtle looked at the two of them inquiringly. When she noticed that the entrance was open, though, she cried and hurled herself through the toilet stalls. A few seconds later, she could be heard complaining about boys entering a girls' bathroom.
"That was Moaning Myrtle." Dumbledore deadpanned, as a matter of explanation.
Harry nodded, and jumped in the hole. After waiting for the old man to come through, he led him towards the Chamber again.
After Levitating the eleven students and themselves out of the Chamber, and after depositing the youngsters in the infirmary, Jerry took his leave – avoiding Dumbledore's questions – and headed outside, where he Apparated out and turned time again. As he could only turn time hour by hour, he had some time to kill and decided to continue on his current project: bolts. Or, more precisely, anti-werewolf and anti-vampire bolts. He had copied the blue ones – those with a hollow part in them, designed to inject things in targets – and had put a mix of powdered garlic there. What he decided to do now was to transfigure the bolt tip into silver and its body into regular wood: he knew that one of the ways to kill a vampire was to pierce its heart with wood. When it was done, Harry put it in one of the duplicating clips, before changing said clip's colour to one that wasn't used yet: pink.
Since it was almost time for him to leave, he jotted down his ideas to create yet another kind of bolt: a morphine-filled one. On paper, he decided for his colour: light blue. He then left his rooms and spent some time in a search party on the far side of the castle, until Dumbledore magically told everyone that the search was over and that everyone was asked to meet in the Great Hall.
"Did Fawkes find Jerry?" Harry asked Dumbledore as he arrived at the Head table.
"It seems so." Dumbledore answered. "Before arriving, he answered that he'd help me... against his better judgement."
Harry smiled. "Yeah. Sounds like him."
Dumbledore nodded. "I will have to ask you about him, later."
Harry nodded briefly and went to his seat. Seeing that almost everyone was there, Dumbledore stood up and addressed the room. After reassuring them about the fate of the twelve missing students, he told them a story about Death Eaters putting Professor Sinistra under Imperius and using her to kidnap said students before harming herself in some unknown way.
Dumbledore then sat to eat, observing the hall through his half-moon glasses. After a few minutes, he noticed some students leaving without waiting for dessert. He mentally checked the name of those students against a list of names he had received two weeks before, and he smiled grimly while congratulating himself for having activated a very special ward around Hogwarts – a ward which would yield results quite rapidly, too.
After dinner, Dumbledore stood up and looked around. His eye caught sight of several members of the Order of the Phoenix, and he discreetly played with his Phoenix ring while nodding at them. They understood, and arrived in his office a short time later.
There were two owls there, and another one entered while they were taking conjured seats. The three birds looked confused, and Dumbledore explained.
"When the alert started, I activated the communication ward. Any owl coming to Hogwarts, or intending to leave, will pass here first." he said, taking the letter from one of the owls. A couple of spells later, the letter was opened and the old man was browsing it.
"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed. "That's a breach of privacy!"
"I have to, Minerva. I have a list of students I know would like to be Death Eaters, and others who are in every aspect except the Mark. I will use these owls as proof to confound them and show them the error in their ways." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you want, we can devise other ways of ensuring the school's safety. I am responsible for this, though, which means that I'll be eternally shameful about not having done something for Sinistra before."
The group worked for a couple hours on the letters and on safety procedures, and they confirmed a couple of students' names from the list he had received from Harry, two weeks ago. Reading between the lines, they also found out that one of the seventh year girls was pregnant, and that a group of fifth year Slytherin boys were bullying the younger students.
Dumbledore sat down and, removing his glasses, he rubbed his face. "Well... I guess it has been an eventful evening, and I thank you for your cooperation in searching for the students."
"I'm glad you found them." Flitwick said, before acquiring a pensive look. "You didn't tell us where they were."
"In the Chamber of Secrets." the old man replied, earning him a couple of gasps. "Well, except for our Head Girl. It seems that she discovered Sinistra's plans and was put under Imperius."
"How did you get into the... Chamber? I thought you said only Parselmouths could open it." asked Flitwick. "And, for that matter, how did she?" he added, referring to the Astronomy teacher.
"I made the mistake of leaving her in the possession of her communication mirror." Dumbledore answered. "It might have been any Parselmouth speaking behind it. And, as to how I entered... some of you remember seeing Jerry Homest in the castle? He opened it for me. Seems that he knows Parseltongue, too. Which reminds me..." he trailed off, looking straight at Harry. "How could you reach him so fast, Henry, while I didn't succeed? And don't tell me it's only thanks to Fawkes, because I tried too."
"I don't know, Albus. I know I thought very hard about where he lives when I gave the message to Fawkes. Perhaps that worked that way."
"Hmmm... could be." Dumbledore replied, absently stroking his beard while eyeing Harry speculatively. "Can you tell us where he lives?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to."
"Not allowed to? What do you mean?"
"As I told you a long time ago, I vowed to respect my masters' wishes, and Jerry is one of them. He taught me much about muggle weapons."
"Still, I'm concerned, Henry. Jerry Homest may be truthful in his articles and helpful when he fights against our enemy, but he is an unknown quantity to us."
"Not to me." Harry answered staunchly. "I think that you are too curious about him, Headmaster. Out of loyalty to you, I won't tell him about this, but know that he values his privacy above everything. Merely knowing that you want to reach him may alienate him to you."
"Still... he is also the only one who had approached Harry Potter successfully." Dumbledore said, although he seemed deflated somewhat. "I tried, once, but the boy escaped." he admitted, and a couple of persons gasped. The old man chuckled. "Yes, he escaped me, and Jerry told me he taught the boy a few tricks. I don't want Harry Potter to be the unknown quantity Jerry is!" he exclaimed.
"Why?" asked Harry innocently. "Why is that boy so important?"
"He's..." Dumbledore started, before looking around. "He defeated Voldemort, a dozen years ago. Surely, you know about this."
"Of course! It was in every newspaper." Harry said, before frowning. "I still find it strange that the articles telling of the attack were so precise. It implies that there were witnesses. Witnesses who didn't help the Potters." he finished, looking straight at the Headmaster.
The room fell utterly silent while everyone considered the young man's reasoning.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but two events prevented him to.
The fireplace glowed a vivid green and Moody shot through it. "Albus!" he exclaimed. "There's-"
He was interrupted by the office door opening, letting Flamel enter. "Don't say a word!" he said to Moody.
Everyone looked at the old alchemist questioningly, but he was completely unfazed. "I need to speak to... Henry." he said. "Privately, and possibly for a long time. Albus?"
Harry looked at the three oldest men in the room in rapid succession. Something was afoot, there, and he didn't know what it was. However, he knew that his current master was the most knowledgeable of the three, and, not waiting for Dumbledore's dismissal, he stood up and followed Flamel out of the office.
When the door closed, Moody growled at Dumbledore. "What's the meaning of this?"
"I don't know, Alastor. What did you want to tell me?"
"You do know that our Ministry still manages magic in most of the countries belonging to the old Commonwealth Empire, right?" Moody asked, and almost everyone nodded. "Well... there has been a surge of magic in India."
"What kind of surge?" Dumbledore asked.
"You know the detectors, Albus. The most powerful spell cast by a regular wizard or witch reaches 100 on its scale. When you duelled Grindewald, they reached a peak at 1000."
"So?"
"The detector exploded five minutes ago, Albus. Right after reaching 10000."
Everyone blanched.
The clock on the mantelpiece softly chimed. It was 10:30pm.
Outside of the Headmaster's office...
"Why did you get me out now?" Harry asked.
"I waited out of the door for the best moment to do so." Flamel answered. "Come with me."
Harry followed the man wordlessly, and soon realized that they were going to his quarters. He didn't question his master, but the answer he had received was confusing at best.
"Please, sit down." the man said once they were both in the small apartment.
Harry obeyed and noticed that the ancient man in front of him didn't seem in a hurry that much. Why was it so urgent that he needed him out right then? And why was he taking all the time in the world?
"Tea?" asked Flamel.
Harry decided to play along. After all, the old man was his master. "Yes, please."
They both sipped their tea in silence, before Flamel spoke again. "We have a problem. A big one."
"What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly all ears.
"I spoke with Merlin recently. He is so much in contact with the magic that he felt something happen, and we need you to play interference."
"What is it?"
"Demons have been awakened."
"Demons?"
"Yes, plural, as in "more than one". Not even two, in fact. There are four of them."
"Four?"
"Yes, four. And there's only one person able to fight them, at the moment."
"...me?" Harry asked, a little uncertain. After all, he had fought werewolves, all right, but... demons?
"I knew you were sharp when I took you under my wing." Flamel smirked. Harry snorted and started to reply but Flamel interrupted him. "You already fought two of them."
That sent Harry into a reminiscing loop until he remembered two particularly vicious Death Eaters. Vicious, and apparently immortal. Malfoy and Lestrange.
"There are two more?" he asked in a little voice. He then grimaced at his tone of voice, coughed, and asked "Can they even be killed?"
"Well... not really. Let's just say that their host can be killed upon which their immortal soul returns to Hell. But it's the same, really. It's just that they give their hosts temporary access to their powers, and that's... quite bothersome." He smirked. "Nothing a beheading can't solve, though."
"Great, then! I'll take care of them."
"Good! Now, prepare yourself for a tough battle. You told me you were going to make special ammunition, earlier. Have you?"
"Yes. Garlic and silver." Harry nodded proudly, before obeying the man's suggestion.
He stood up and went to one of his cupboards. It was one with an included table, and he pulled his box of Samurai weapons out and atop it. He also took his two crossbows – Flitwick's duplication charms were really useful – and put them near the displayed blades. The next item he took out was the shield he got from the Venetian knighthood. After willing his Venetian mantle – which was currently looking like Hogwarts teacher's robes – to disappear, he undressed himself, down to his underwear, and equipped the dragon hide trousers, vest, and boots he had bought just for the occasion. He then willed his mask to appear and his mantle to morph into a cape.
Harry looked around, before taking his most powerful spellcasting focuses out: these were Merlin's wand; his mahogany-and-Nundu one; and his katana ring. And he started casting spells.
He started with shields, and cast the same shielding Charm with the three "wands", ensuring that it was very unlikely that it would be dispelled. The first one was a reflecting shield, which he put on all his blades, his shield, and his mantle, knowing that it would at least get a few enemies that way. He then cast another shield on his body. It was a shielding spell Flamel had taught him. The old alchemist was perhaps forbidden to act aggressively, but his continued life proved that he knew spells to protect himself. That particular shield absorbed the spells thrown at it, and used the spells' power to heal the recipient.
His last spell was a Disillusionment charm he threw on himself. Since they had blended with the mask, he didn't need sticking charms on his magical glasses, nor did he need it on his weapons: the Samurai paraphernalia was his, and the crossbows were charmed in the same way already.
His spellwork done, Harry concentrated on his body. He remembered Lestrange's size, and contemplated being larger to have a better chance of striking him down – being bigger meant stronger and harder physical attacks. However, he knew that a larger person made an easier target, and he dismissed this option, his adult shape being large enough – any larger, and he would have to adapt to it. He concentrated for several minutes, and his additional arms slowly expanded from his armpits. He flexed them for a few seconds, before concentrating on raising his skin toughness.
His last target for enhancements was his mind. He unplugged his pain connection first, and then, after clearing his mind of all mundane thoughts not related to fighting, he activated his chameleon ability. Knowing that there would be possible Legilimens in the enemy ranks, he also made sure that his mind defences were ready.
Given that he had had to repeat several hours a day for a month, Harry knew how to use the Time Turner proficiently. Thus, in order to be able to sort himself, he had chosen to use it to repeat the whole day several times, so that he would get his night's rest at the appropriate time. The extra time was spent in training different things, and his mind was no exception. He still had a few things to sort in his life, but things like the collection of dark artefacts from Malfoy Manor seemed less important than his continued life.
And it involved protecting his mind.
His first step had been to build a thick metallic sphere around his entire mind – including the subterranean part and a good deal of the still-empty sky: he didn't want intruders to jump above his defences, nor did he want them to access his subterranean mind by digging. He had also rediscovered his pensieve and had taken advantage of it to remove useless memories from his mind. He had implemented several of his ideas concerning his mind, like an index of the removed memories. He thus knew where to find them, but they weren't taking that much space in his mind anymore. A few days after doing so, he had talked with Jorg and James, and the two of them had described the mechanism as akin to the cache system of modern computers.
Between the sphere and the outer reaches of his mind, he had put mud, hopefully slowing any intruder's progress. Next came the four dragons defending his mind. The flying creatures were patrolling their space relentlessly, ready to catch any intruder. There was an improvement when you compared these dragons with the first he had used, though: the current ones were fitted with a surprise for any intruder fool enough to attack them. Or him.
Now that his mind was ready too, he took his equipment. He removed his belt and took another one – once again mentally thanking the Charms professor for having taught him the duplicating charm. That other belt contained different things than the first: each of its pockets was enchanted with the same duplicating charm, and they contained clips for his crossbows. He took two of them out – the pink one and the explosive orange one – and paused.
He looked at Flamel. "Will there be many opponents?"
"Merlin knows."
Harry smirked. "Riiight. And what did he say?"
The alchemist looked at him with an amused expression. "He said that you were to fight five times, and that the order was important. Interpret this as you wish."
Harry paused, looking thoughtfully at the explosive ammunition for a few seconds. He could cause much collateral damage with this, and he wasn't sure it was the best one to use. Shrugging, he put it back in the belt and took out a red one, figuring that making the enemies bleed to death was another option he could take. After attaching the pink and red ammunition clips to his crossbows, he paused again.
"How can I be sure the demons are dead? After all, I did put my blade through Malfoy's heart, last time, and he still lives."
"They can regenerate, so they have to be obliterated. Here." the man answered, giving him a vial full of powder. It was an orange powder swirling angrily, and Harry looked at it for a moment. "This is living fire." Flamel continued. "Just spray it over a demon's body and it will be completely consumed. You have to kill it through mundane means before, though. As I said earlier, cutting its head is an efficient way to do so."
Harry nodded, and pocketed the vial. This done, he took one crossbow in each of his "secondary" hands and attached the Venetian shield on his left forearm. Merlin's wand and his mahogany one were stored in Summoning-safe wrist holders, one on each of his secondary arms, and Ravenclaw's ring was firmly attached to his left – he couldn't cast spells through his metallic arm, so he had to put the ring on an organic arm, and his right side was already covered with his own ring. He also had his holly wand in his right boot, in case it would be needed.
Lastly, he mentally summoned his tachi – second longest blade of the set – and, the weapon firmly held in his right hand, he turned to his master and looked at him with his mask-blank eyes.
"I'm ready."
The Alchemist looked at his apprentice apprehensively. His oath of non-violence was pushing him to reject any responsibility in what would happen, but he knew that, if he didn't send that young man – correction: that killing machine – the death toll would be horrendous. It was going to be dreadful, already, though. Of that he was sure.
He cleared his voice and then addressed Harry. "Alright. Pretty impressive, too. Let me just give you something else." he said, and removed a pendant from his pocket. "This is charmed as a portkey with a special activation condition. If you fall unconscious, it returns you to safety."
Harry attached his crossbows to his belt and put the trinket on, hiding it behind his form-fitting vest.
"Great. Now, listen attentively. You will go back one hour in time. No more, no less. Take the location from my mind and go. And be safe, as much as possible. As annoying an apprentice as you are, I never lost one and I don't intend to start with you."
Harry nodded, although his movement was almost unseen, between the concealing charm and the chameleon ability. A few seconds "later", he was gone.
"Oh my!" breathed Flamel a bit later. "I forgot to tell him about Voldemort!"
In Egypt, one hour earlier...
'I think that this is it.' the man thought, before brushing an annoying lock of red hair behind his ear again.
As he had told Harry, Bill was in Thebes, in the Goblin library precisely, searching for clues about a temple dedicated to Wadjet. He had spent most of the last month like that. Strangely, the most interesting books relative to Wadjet had disappeared from the shelves, and, when he had noticed and told the librarian, the old Goblin had told him that some Goblins might have checked them out.
Bill didn't think it was a Goblin who had done so, especially since he could make a good guess at who was currently using the temple, probably as living quarters. He couldn't tell the wizened Goblin, though, and had returned to the endless rows of books, trying to find an alternate path.
Now that he had found the indication he so wanted, though, he didn't lose time in sending the owl. A short time later, he was watching the bird take off, heading towards Scotland. Once back inside, he ignored the study area and went to the side room to make himself some tea. The Goblin library wasn't much used, especially by wizards, and Bill had been doing his research alone for quite some time, his tea being his only company.
Several minutes later, a small Goblin approached, wearing the loincloth of an underling. Bill knew the Goblin's social order and he knew that the Goblin underlings were quite the same than the house-elves in the wizarding world: efficient workers that no one spoke with. He was reasonably surprised, then, when said Goblin addressed him.
"Not working anymore?"
Despite knowing that it was unusual, Bill's humanity took over and he answered warmly. "No. I found what I wanted, and I'm just warming myself a bit." he said, before turning to put the now empty cup in the sink.
When the Goblin didn't reply, Bill turned around again, and, noticing that there was no Goblin there, he jumped in alarm. In the Goblin's place, there was a black-robed squat wizard with a white mask. Bill tried to reach his wand, but he didn't stand a chance.
"Stupefy!" the man exclaimed.
At point-blank, the spell struck unerringly, and the redhead fell down, only to be caught by a not-so-gentle hand. It wasn't to help him, though. The two of them disappeared with a slight popping sound just as Goblin voices approached from behind the door.
At the same time...
"...and that's why I want to test your powers, and also why I don't want to do so here. I don't want my presence in this country known." Voldemort said.
The four men stood straight, looking at the Dark Lord with pride in their stance. Voldemort wasn't used to that stance in his followers, and his fingers itched to curse them, but he refrained. These were powerful allies, after all, not mere minions or underlings.
"Here comes the portkey." he said as a large shape every Death Eater knew as Ursinus Derrick entered the room with a small rope.
Unbeknownst to everyone in England, Derrick wasn't dead. Because of Derrick's management of the department of law enforcement, Scrimgeour had wanted to interrogate him, and, knowing the Minister, Derrick was sure it involved Veritaserum at one point or another. When he hadn't answered the summon, Aurors had come to investigate his house, and he had collapsed it on them. He had even transfigured a dead muggle into his body before leaving.
He was now second in command in Voldemort's followers, the four "special" ones in front of him having mutated from "follower" into "ally" status.
He wordlessly handed them the rope and backed down, not daring to be caught in the middle of whatever those four would be doing – especially after Death's show when he had "awakened".
"Pleasant trip." Voldemort said, extracted his wand. "I will join you in a few minutes to see how well you are doing." He might not want to be close to the four demons as they wreaked havoc, but he still wanted to see their results with his own eyes.
The Dark Lord tapped the portkey with his wand, and the four men disappeared. Voldemort had chosen to stay back, in order to check on things with Snape. His four allies had started to show signs of restlessness, and they had started to move around the temple, disturbing Jugson's researches and Snape's brewing.
Snape's brewing...
Voldemort slithered down the corridor towards the private chamber he had loaned to Snape for his endeavour, and watched as the Potion Master turned the ladle in a complicated figure, while adding finely powdered ingredients. Snape sensed his master's presence and looked up when he finished his complex task. "It's almost ready, master. One hour, I think."
"Good."
"I have found something else, master, if I may."
Voldemort nodded, indicating that the Potion Master could continue speaking.
"There is something in the potion that involves loyalty. The ingredients are the same than other loyalty-inducing potions, and it seems that your four... allies... are quite loyal to you."
"It seems so, although they are quite the cheeky ones, aren't they, Severus?"
"Master, I'm not into their minds, so I wouldn't know."
"True, you aren't there. Don't forget that ingredient effects can be negated or even reversed."
"Yes, master." Snape said, refraining from even thinking of rolling his eyes. He knew this already! He wasn't Potion Master for nothing.
"I will see about your comment later, Severus." Voldemort said. "Until then, continue with the potion."
Voldemort returned to his throne room, and noticed that there were two more men there since he had left to see Snape's progress. One was one of his Death Eaters – whom his peripheral Legilimency told him was Travers – and the other one was a redhead. Both had their faces to the floor, but, while one was bowing, the other was simply unconscious.
"What is it, Travers?" asked Voldemort, knowing full well that the man was obedient to the point of not speaking first when he knew his lord disliked it.
"You told me to watch over Weasley, master. He just found out what he sought."
"That means that your own search wasn't complete, Travers." Voldemort said in a cold tone. "Crucio!"
He lifted the curse after a second. Travers didn't have time to scream, actually. "This is only a preview, Travers. It is thankful that the man didn't warn anyone about it... He hasn't sent anything, right?"
Travers was afraid of the curse, and, in truth, he hadn't seen Bill sending the owl away, so he didn't know. "No, master." he said, in what he hoped was an affirmed voice. "He didn't send anything."
Voldemort wasn't looking at him at that moment. If he had been, he might have noticed that the man had, in fact, no idea of what he was saying.
"Lock him up." the Dark Lord said. "I will decide his fate later."
Voldemort returned to his quarters, and, after creating the appropriate portkey, he activated it. The internal affairs of the Death Eaters would wait. What he wanted to see now was a scene of death and desolation.
He would be in for a shock.
Killari, Maharashtra, Central India...
When Harry approached, he could already feel the damage from the gaseous reality. He returned to tangibility in the middle of the carnage and looked around. There was no sound nearby, simply bodies upon bodies lying in the streets. Fires were barely lighting the night, coming from small campfires or smouldering buildings. There was a full moon, too, giving the scene an eerie touch.
'Damn Flamel!' Harry thought, starting to be angry at the old man. 'Why didn't he send me before? Why did he have to make his bloody tea! Now that I've seen that, I can't go back to prevent it!'
He tried to follow the trail of destruction, but quickly discovered that there was more than one. As Flamel had said, there were four demons, and, as such, there were four distinct trails. The first one was filled with people visibly dead or dying from spells. What struck him as odd in that street was that there were no children around. He noticed several small bodies around, but these were wrinkled and parched and he attributed them to very old people.
The second and third trails made his stomach reel. They were filled with bodies as well, but their state was particularly sickening. In one street, these bodies were gouged and dismembered, and there was blood everywhere. In the other, it looked as if the people had been dying of hunger, their bodies so desiccated that it was painful to even look at them. On the fourth trail, he found no evidence of anything used, but, after palpating the first couple of bodies, he quickly found that they were dead. Simply dead.
'What are those demons?' he asked himself, before choosing one of the trails. He thought he recognized the work of Malfoy and Lestrange, and he decided to follow the first of the other two. He Apparated out again and followed his trail until he found the demon moving in the street. His method of killing was... unusual. And frightening. He simply touched his victims, and they went from the state of crying humans to whimpering mummies to corpse in seconds. Harry advanced forward a little and Apparated behind a corner, earning him some gasps from some frightened locals, some of them sounding like "Vishnu" and others like "Kali" – with his mask and arms, he was truly an impressive sight, and it was no wonder that the locals thought they had seen a deity.
He stepped in the street and fired. Despite gaining the creature's interest, though, he remarked that his bolts didn't have much effect. On top of that, the demon took his wand out and cast a material shield on himself, and the bolts stopped reaching him altogether. The man then walked towards him.
Deciding not to let himself taken away, Harry Apparated out again, and, once in the gaseous reality, he pocketed the crossbow with the red clip and extracted Merlin's wand.
He was just there, wondering about what he should do next, when he felt a rush of power near him. He looked from where that came, and noticed that the demon had acquired substance in the gaseous reality. It was as if he had Apparated, but he wasn't moving.
'No!' Harry thought frantically. 'He can't do that!'
Unfortunately for Harry, Rookwood had felt that something was off, and he had concentrated on Apparating to the stick-throwing creature, thus landing in the gaseous reality. The Death-Eater-turned-demon slowly opened his eyes, and he noticed Harry looking at him with a stunned expression.
"So... that's where you hide." he wheezed, before lunging at him.
Harry jumped out of the way quickly, not wanting to be touched by the desiccating hands. "Who the hell are you?"
The demon stopped to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm... Perhaps it's time to learn who will kill you. I am Famine. Although I'm not just creating hunger. I kill with it, too, unlike Death. How prosaic..." he said, before tilting his head to the side. "I have been known as Augustus Rookwood, before. And who are you?"
During his little talk, Rookwood had approached Harry surreptitiously, and he made a sudden dash towards him. Harry knew the rules of travel in the gaseous reality, though, and he was able to escape the attack – although barely – and hurl himself away of Rookwood's clutches.
Once he was far away and supposedly far enough from the three others as well, he Apparated in, becoming tangible again. He was in a deserted courtyard with a few benches and palm trees, and he just stood there, concentrating on feeling his surroundings.
He knew they would come.
He wasn't sure if he could feel Rookwood when the demon was in the gaseous reality, but he quickly found out that he could... when the man Apparated just in front of him. Harry reacted automatically and brought his shield to block the attack. His tachi came into action as well and slashed the demon's skin.
Harry somersaulted backwards while Rookwood was looking at his wound. He then looked up, and Harry gasped. The wound was deep, displaying shrivelled flesh, but it wasn't hindering the demon in the least, and he lunged at Harry again. This time, Harry was a little more ready for the attack, and he swished his blade at the man's outstretched arm, severing it cleanly.
He really didn't want to be touched by these ominous hands.
Speaking of which...
"Incendio." Harry exclaimed, aiming Merlin's wand at the fallen forearm, which burst into flames.
He was ready to repeat the spell on the demon, but said demon growled and attacked again, throwing his whole body at Harry. Rookwood didn't seem to be fazed by Harry's tachi, impaling himself on it in the process. The boy fell on his back, his shield barely preventing the creature's other hand to reach him. His blade was blocked, his crossbow was ineffective, and he knew that the man would follow him to the gaseous reality... there was only one thing he could do.
Using the wand in his hand, he Banished the creature away from him. Since he was lying on his back, Rookwood was catapulted into the sky, arm and legs flailing wildly. Harry knew he had to act fast, because the other demons would have noticed the fight by now, and they were surely closing in. He Apparated atop the still airborne demon and used the Incarceration spell to bind him with strong ropes. He then took hold of one end of these ropes and Apparated back on the ground, next to the charred forearm that hadn't moved.
Harry yanked his tachi from Rookwood's chest – the handle was protruding from the rope-covered body – and positioned himself. The demon understood quickly what was going to happen, and he shrieked.
It was an unholy sound, and Harry had trouble concentrating, but his strong mind forced his body to react, and, in a swift downward strike, Rookwood's head was severed from his body.
Despite the demon being still alive, the scream ceased immediately – with no connection between lungs and voice box, it was quite difficult to speak, after all, so... scream?
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, before hurriedly taking Flamel's vial from his pocket. Not wanting to spend the entire vial on one demon when he had four to deal with, he carefully dropped some powder on the demon's forearm and some more on its head, and was starting to do so for the body when something happened to contradict his plans.
Guided by Rookwood's screech, the three other demons had Apparated, somehow landing behind Harry. Lestrange had immediately pounced on him, causing both of them to fall on Rookwood's body. The vial of powder was smashed between Harry and Rookwood, and, half a second later, said powder ignited. An angry fire started to devour Rookwood's arm, head, and body... and Harry's.
Despite the intense pain, Harry took advantage of Lestrange's quick retreat to quickly cast a flame-freezing charm on himself, keeping him safe from the angry fire. Contrarily to a normal fire, though, that one didn't abate, even spreading to his entire body without lowering its strength.
It was really a sight to behold. Harry was standing behind the fallen demon, his four arms outstretched, his mask giving his whole head the appearance of polished alabaster, and his cape flowing in the nightly breeze. And he was covered in angry flames.
Like an enraged animal, Lestrange crouched and snarled at him. Harry had a good idea about why, though, and he smirked. While regular flame-freezing charms lowered the temperature of the fire on which they were cast, Harry had used it on himself, concentrating enough for the charm to apply only onto him. And the flames were hot, hot like the hell the demons didn't want to return to.
Now that he was calmer, Harry smirked. He aimed his crossbow at Lestrange and pulled the trigger several times. The demon howled in pain, and quickly removed the offending bolts from his wounds. They didn't heal as fast as the wounds Harry had inflicted him the last time they saw each other, but they distinctly closed after a few seconds. 'Darn.' Harry thought, and he shot half a dozen bolts at the man before turning to Malfoy.
"Crucio."
The beam impacted on Harry, who... almost flinched. But didn't.
While Malfoy was looking at him in wonder, Harry shot several bolts into his chest, just like he had done to Lestrange. He noticed that the man staggered at each shot, and that a ghostly figure looking like a child's ghost came out each time. But it still didn't kill the demon. Harry groaned. Just how many children had he absorbed? He was continuing shooting the vampire-like demon when he heard something resembling a spell, and he whirled around, ready to defend himself.
But nothing happened.
Harry only noticed that Lestrange had his wand out, and that he was smirking. He smirked back and shot him again, but the bolt smashed against an invisible barrier, and Harry realized that he wasn't the only one to know about shielding spells. At the same time, he heard an incantation behind him, and recognized the same spell. 'So much for the crossbow.' he thought.
While the three of them started to turn around each other, searching for an opening, Dolohov had the most curious reaction. He had kneeled beside the flaming remains of Rookwood, as if he was mourning, and when the magical flame licked the last flammable remains of their fellow demon he wailed. "One half..." was all Harry heard him say before someone else spoke.
That someone else was the second thing contradicting his plans, tonight. The number of Harry's enemies had gone down by one, but they were now four again.
Voldemort was there.
And he looked pissed.
"Crucio!" he hissed at Harry, not quite registering the entire scene.
Once again, Harry felt that he should be writhing in pain, but he had taken care to disengage that particular connection in his mind. And, like Malfoy before him, the Dark Lord looked at his wand in shocked surprise. And he suddenly felt pain.
A bolt had impacted his massive chest. He looked up, only to see another one heading for his shoulder. And he felt pain again. The bolts' speed was really something to deal with. And that fiery enemy didn't stop there, two other bolts hitting his body in rapid succession. Voldemort was suddenly thankful for the Egyptian deity to have given him that much more power, as the pointy items didn't actually pierce his skin. It was still painful, though, and the Dark Lord loathed pain. He aimed his wand at the flaming apparition, a particular curse on his lips.
"Aqueo Conjurus."
Voldemort had arrived on the scene and he had seen a fiery creature with four arms standing atop one of his allies, in three charred parts and obviously dead. He had obviously thought that if was a fire creature of some sort. He thought his water spell would douse him.
He was almost right.
Besides surrounding Harry completely, the magical fire had other ideas. The blob of water that had appeared around Harry began to boil and turn into vapour so quickly that, following the rules of physics, it exploded outwards, drenching the Dark Lord and the three demons in scalding water.
Thankfully – or not – it did cost the fire all its energy to do so, and a slightly charred humanoid appeared in front of the Dark Lord, who looked at it with eyes as wide as his serpentine face could manage.
"What are you?"
Harry didn't answer – he really wasn't into this kind of monologues like the super-heroes living in his comics – and, hidden behind his shield, he aimed his crossbow carefully.
"I know this crest!" exclaimed the Dark Lord.
'Uh oh.' thought Harry. 'I can't let him make the link with Venice.' "You can tell me who I stole it from, then." he said, lowering his shield enticingly. Voldemort's eyes followed the move, and he didn't see the crossbow behind it before it was fired.
A wet sound.
A pained yell.
'Yes!' Harry cheered internally, before Apparating out as the Dark Lord was launching spells around in blind fury. Literally.
He had a bolt protruding from his left eye.
Apparently, his enhanced skin didn't apply to the eyes.
Harry took good note of this, remembering to check whether he shared that particular weakness. He suddenly remembered something else, something he had learnt after the incident with the diary and the basilisk. That diary... with Voldemort's spirit... it belonged to someone called Tom Marvolo Riddle.
He appeared on the other side of the demons from Voldemort, and decided to taunt him so that he'd cast spells on them.
"Afraid, Tommy boy?" he taunted.
"Don't call me by this thrice-accursed name! Reducto! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort yelled, aiming at where he had heard the voice. Harry had already Apparated out, though, and the demons quickly followed his idea: after jumping out of the way, they Apparated to a safer location, and only a bench suffered from the explosion curse. While moving in the gaseous reality, though, one of them stopped, disturbing the usual Apparation spell.
Rodolphus Lestrange sniffed the air.
His bestial instincts took over, and he opened his eyes to see Harry close to him. And, even if he wasn't familiar with the greyish and smoky reality in which he was now, not caring about the Dark Lord cursing beneath him, he pounced.
Harry wasn't prepared, because he was looking at Voldemort with a grim satisfaction. The wolf-like creature snapped his jaws on his right arm with enough force to snap it.
But it didn't. Harry had come prepared, this time, and his reaction to the beast's attack was only to drop his tachi in shock. An equally shocked wolf-demon retreated from him, looking at where he had struck. Lestrange's teeth and claws had rent through Harry's dragonhide vest as through paper, but the skin underneath was intact.
The demon had other talents, though, and, when he noticed the fallen sabre, he lunged for it, only to receive a jolt from its handle. Harry was amused from it, and ready to summon his weapon back, but Lestrange wasn't finished yet. He was a demon of war, after all, and no weapon could resist him. He quickly made gestures over the long blade, using his raw magic to surround the sabre with dark energies. It was made so quickly that, on top of being shocked from not seeing the blade coming back to him, Harry wasn't ready for the next attack.
Lestrange rushed forward, Harry's tachi in hand, held over his head, and ready to sweep it in a deadly downward strike. Harry had few choices to escape the manoeuvre, except parrying with his shield. Under the mighty blow, though, the beautiful kite shield broke in two, and Harry scuttled back, before... Apparating in.
"Crucio! Sectumsempra! Reducto! Avada Kedavra!"
'Whoops!' Harry thought, couching and jumping to dodge the curse beams from the spells Voldemort was still casting haphazardly around. He had merely enough time to get rid of the shield's fragments before Lestrange Apparated in as well, lunging at him again. Harry was farther, though, and he had time to summon his nodachi before making contact with the demon. Lestrange didn't falter when seeing the longer blade, and he swiped "his" blade in a mighty downward strike.
The two swords clanked, sparks coming from their meeting point and illuminating the courtyard some more. The two swordsmen looked at each other for a second before a stray curse from the still angry Dark Lord forced them to separate.
After a couple of seconds spent looking at each other, they started to fight seriously, and the sound of swordfight echoed in the almost-deserted square. On his side, Lestrange had an unnatural quickness that Harry was hard-pressed to match, an equally demonic strength, his fur provided a strong defence against spells, and his wounds healed real fast. Harry had strengthened skin as well, and, with his four arms, he was able to cast spells while fighting with his sword.
The skirmish went on for a few minutes, the two of them exchanging strikes and blows, and dodging the curses Voldemort was still throwing left and right. They were forced to a pause, though, when the tip of the darkened blade came to rest on Harry's shoulder. Harry's "original" left shoulder. The one where the silver-coated steel arm was attached.
Lestrange had a feral smile, and he pushed forward, Harry trying to block him with his only unarmed hand – it was his metallic arm too, coincidentally. Despite hearing his hide sizzling against the hand's silver cover, the demon was too far gone in the fight to refuse to take an advantage. Harry sensed his opponent's intention, and he prepared himself.
At the precise moment Lestrange chose to lunge forward, Harry extended his hand in a deadly form. The darkened sword penetrated his shoulder, dissociating his arm, and Lestrange started to smile. His smile faltered, though, when he felt the wound in his chest. He briefly glanced down and howled in pain.
Using the beast's momentum, Harry had pushed his hand through the man's skin, using his hand as a claw. The silver-coated appendage pierced the hide and damaged several organs on his way to the man's heart.
Lestrange tried to grab it, with the reasonable assumption that the arm would get out the way it came in. Harry had other ideas, though, and he took advantage of his permanent mental link to the prosthesis to make the silver hand grab the man's heart.
Lestrange fell on his knees, gasping and desperately trying to yank the intruding limp out. Each yank damaged his heart even more, though, and he finally fell on his back.
Not missing a bit despite being quite short on breath, Harry positioned himself for a proper beheading. He raised his nodachi...
"Accio sword!" a commanding voice intoned.
'Shit.' he had forgotten those two. Malfoy and Dolohov hadn't been far.
Thankfully, nothing happened. 'That's not exactly a sword.' Harry thought absently, while surveying his opponents. 'He should expand his vocabulary. It's not that I don't want my nodachi to fly towards him at great speeds, but...'
"Petrificatus Totalus! Diffindo! Reducto!" Malfoy intoned.
Thankfully, the spells didn't work as Malfoy would have liked to. Harry merely turned his back to them, and the spell beams impacted with his mantle, the reflecting shield throwing them back to the two demons.
They dodged easily, but, by the time they looked at the scene again, Harry had Apparated out again. The boy briefly considered his options, before stowing his crossbow away. Even with his numerous weapons, there was no way he could Apparate in and do what he wanted without the three menaces getting to him. Unless...
Voldemort was there. Hearing Malfoy's voice seemed to have put some sense into that serpentine head of his, and he had finally yanked the offending bolt out. Now, a greenish liquid was oozing from his eye, and he was inspecting his surroundings with an attentive eye – only one, mind you.
Harry had a feeling that the Dark Lord was searching for him, and he quickly moved to his chosen position: right between Voldemort and Malfoy. He then became tangible again, his senses fully open to sense Malfoy and the other demon behind him, and a grim expression on his white face. He had a goal, and it crystallized almost immediately: Malfoy and Voldemort cursed him. Heavily. Using mostly dark and deadly spells.
But he wasn't there anymore. Once again, he had Apparated out. While the two evil spellcasters dealt with their own spells, Harry moved near Lestrange and, with a thought for the Longbottoms, he promptly beheaded the demon.
It was just in time, though, as he noticed that the body had almost pushed his arm out of the way already, healing itself despite being in contact with silver. 'That's not your everyday weretiger.' Harry thought. 'But... immortal? I don't think so.' After all, he possessed a fire able to do almost as much damage as Flamel's powder. Grabbing two pointy things from his pockets, he stuck them in Lestrange's chest and open mouth, activating them at the same time. Just as he finished doing so, though, he noticed two things. Two unwelcome things.
He felt an intrusion in his mind, and almost smiled. Almost. He didn't when he recognized the mental signature, and almost paused to see what would happen. At the same time, though, a green beam rushed towards him, and he did the first thing he could to avoid it: he Apparated out. He could take almost anything in, but not the Killing Curse. He didn't know about that, in fact, but he didn't want to test it either.
He wasn't going to stay where something dreadful was going to happen, so he he climbed a few dozen yards in the air, giving his steel arm a longing look. Once high enough for his tastes, he was able to properly focus on what was going on in his mind.
Apparently, Voldemort's invading spirit was surprised. But not unimaginative. The man had started to attack the metal with a flaming tongue coming from his outstretched hands, and Harry knew that it would mean very bad business if Voldemort accessed the inside of his mind. His consciousness was somewhat protected, with all the defences he knew, but not his memories. Feeling that he had to engage in a more active defence mode, he directed the dragons toward the invader, and they attacked the Dark Lord's presence relentlessly.
Voldemort used his flamethrower to push them back, and he eventually succeeded in killing one. What surprised him, though was that the defeated dragon morphed into something twice as impressive. Two dragons. Two alive dragons.
Voldemort knew that he couldn't succeed in that way, and he stopped attacking and disappeared, retreating back to his own mind to reflect on this.
However, he didn't have time to reflect because, at the same time, the yard rocked under two powerful explosions. Harry surveyed the happenstance, mentally thanking Powell for the C4-filled pens. When it was done, there was almost nothing remaining of Lestrange's head. And body. And Harry took care of the few remains by throwing a couple incendiary spells – he was still able to stick a limb in or out of the gaseous reality, and a wand-equipped hand was discreet enough to grill a few pepperonis without getting too much retribution.
Besides, the three others had been caught in the explosion, right? Harry had noticed that they had been pushed away, Malfoy even tripping on Voldemort's long snaky tail. Laughable.
However, as Lestrange's last remains finished burning, Harry noticed something.
Hell, the whole county noticed. Even Voldemort and Malfoy had their hands to their ears, recoiling from the fourth demon's unearthly shriek. Harry did so as well, even if he was a bit protected by the gaseous reality. At least, it allowed him to produce seemingly coherent thoughts while trying to move away from the wail. He absently wondered if there were muggles around right now, and about said muggles' hearing.
He wouldn't have confirmation, though, and it wouldn't be useful to worry about these poor people's ears. The demon's body started to pulsate, and his cry went even higher for a few seconds... and then Dolohov exploded. Literally.
Now, in most explosions, the matter is blocked by surrounding obstacles – the proof being the courtyard coated in Lestrange's blood. However, this was Death exploding, and the negative spiritual energies liberated by the demon expanded into a perfect sphere of magic centred on him, and several miles wide.
Deadly magic.
People and animals died on the spot. All vegetation and wood-related products rotted. Brick crumbled into dust, and houses collapsed. Metal rusted. Petrol turned into gas, making several vehicles blow up.
And, three miles underground, a subterranean field of petroleum exploded in the same way.
It would cause the largest earthquake unrelated to tectonic causes, reaching 6.4 on the Richter scale. And it would be the best cover story for the Ministry of Magic... because it really happened.
However, there was no consolation that the massive death toll had been of any compensation for getting rid of a Dark Lord: soon after Dolohov had started to scream, Malfoy had moved to Voldemort, and the two of them had been whisked away by the demon's return portkey.
None of them had witnessed a great snake hovering in the sky, mere microseconds before the explosion.
To be continued in next chapter: The Significance of Names...
The Apocalypse? Not yet,
Though it should be safe to bet
That
those three won't come back soon.
But... what about Harry's
boon?
