Harry Potter: Thinking like a Thief

by the stargate time traveller

AU. Harry was not the good little lion people viewed him as. Growing up in an abusive home shaped him into someone who understood the art of disguise. His facade hid a cunning thief who discovered his powers at a young age, and the Triwizard Tournament had ruined several plans along the way. But he wants freedom.

5. Plans and Actions

Harry Potter: Thinking like a Thief.

If he hadn't had access to his magic or to his house-elves, it would have taken Harry a while to pack up his room and head back to New York; but while he'd sent Dobby back to Britain to help Winky to keep up surveillance in the UK before he put his final plans into place, it only took Harry three hours to pack up his room, pay off his hotel room bill, and then use the local MACUSA office to send him through the Maze.

The Maze was the MACUSA's version of the Floo network, but unlike the network in Britain, the American version was like crossing the entire length and breadth of America like you were stepping through the doors in a house.

As soon as he had discovered the American's version of the Floo network, which was much more friendly on his stomach than it was with the Floo in Britain which always made him feel like he had just been yanked off of his feet by an invisible fishing line and spun around and around before being sucked up in a hurricane before being flung out again, Harry had instantly researched it to learn why the Americans had taken that path instead of just creating a vast web of fireplaces linked together.

Apparently, it was due to the size of the country that was one of the reasons why the MACUSA had taken that step. There was a large part of America that was largely sparsely populated and even despite their isolation from the muggles or No-Maj's there were many American wizards who wanted to open up those areas and create settlements but there were areas in America that had historical magical value where discoveries awaited them.

The Americans had combined historical portals with the principles of the Floo network, and they had developed special talismans for opening up the corridors from one place to another, and thanks to his visitors' visa Harry had one of these talismans although he had known he would need to be careful with it; like wands, other forms of magic, talismans' were linked to the monitoring offices in the MACUSA. And Harry had learnt if he had so much as caused any kind of problem misusing it, the Americans would be on top of him before he could blink.

But that wasn't going to stop him. Thanks to Dobby and the spells he had acquired from Hogwarts's Room of Requirement, he felt he had a good basis from which to start creating a portal network of his own.

He had never liked the forms of magical travel in Britain. Every single time he used one of the methods, he usually always fell flat on his face or lost his balance.

He had never found out why, but he was hopeful with a bit of work and some research, he would be able to make those forms of travel obsolete; he wasn't sure what would happen to the old Floo network, portkeys, or the Knight Bus (his cheek was still smarting from the times he'd been flung into the front window of that ruddy thing), but he did not care.

However, right now, he had other things waiting for his attention. Standing in a queue waiting for the return of the talisman and for collecting the receipt of his time in America, Harry considered what was waiting for him in Britain.

Fake friends who would likely drop him at the first opportunity, a controlling Headmaster, an idiot Ministry, a dangerous Dark Lord and his acolytes who wanted to kill him, and someone dangerous and stupid enough to send Dementors into a muggle street. By now he was convinced it was either someone in the Ministry or a rather stupid Death Eater. Perhaps it was both.

Harry knew when he returned to Britain in the next few hours, he would need to lay low and perhaps even put his plans into operation. Thanks to the house-elves, Harry knew that Voldemort had not wasted any time; by the start of the summer Voldemort had only a pathetic number of Death Eaters at his disposal, now he had three hundred and more were joining his cause. He had already begun making overtures to vampires, werewolves, giants who lived in Europe and who would provide an edge. Voldemort was making alliances every day.

According to Dobby, Voldemort was spending a lot of his time holed up in an office in the mansion of his muggle father - that made sense; aside from Harry himself and perhaps Dumbledore, no one else in the magical world knew of the mansion, and considering how Dumbledore refused to impart knowledge to others, knew of the mansion - studying everything he could about the changes to the magical world since the last days of the first war, and he was making plans on how to take advantage of it using the money and resources of his richest followers.

When he had learnt of what Voldemort was doing on top of making inroads and alliances with others and forming long term plans for his takeover of the magical world, Harry realised something about Voldemort's tactics; he looked to the long-term much as Grindelwald had done at his height, but unlike his predecessor, Voldemort was less interested in events he'd like to happen in fifty years; he looked towards a fifteen-year time span. But the fact remained Voldemort looked to the future for his operations.

Harry had needed to do the same.

He had spent weeks looking into the problem of Voldemort, and he had worked out the only solutions were to deprive him of resources and people. It was a more proactive approach than simply doing what Dumbledore was doing and just sitting around a table in a decaying house, listening to Snape's reports while doing little about it.

A subtle grimace crossed his face as he thought of the Order of the Phoenix; before the Dementor attack, Harry had been planning on staying clear of Britain for the next few weeks before he returned to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had been preaching again and again how he (Harry) needed to be kept safe, that he was vital for the war, and how he would allow Harry a few weeks to get over Voldemort's return as if he considered him nothing more than a little toddler to hold by the hand rather than a teenager, and while the Order did not understand why the Boy Who Lived was so special, they followed the orders because Albus Dumbledore had delivered them.

Harry had no intention of staying in Privet Drive. The Dursleys were bad enough, but since Voldemort had said clearly he now had Lily Potter's protection in his veins, he could get to the area any time he chose - he wouldn't yet; he wanted time to build up his forces until he was ready to smash the Ministry's complacency to bits like a hammer smashing glass.

However Harry had plans up his sleeves, and he had needed time to think about them and time to put them into effect; he couldn't have thought through his plans if he was being verbally and mentally abused.

But the bastard who'd unleashed the Dementors had put paid to those plans, and while a small part of him was guilty they were gone, it was mostly due to the loss of life. He had never bothered to warn Vernon and the others about the threat; they wouldn't have listened to him, arrogantly believing if he wasn't there then there was no danger. How wrong they were. It was too late now.

There was no doubt in his mind if he encountered the Order, they would go out of their way to lecture him about what he shouldn't be doing, but if they had thought he would tolerate some stupid information embargo and keep him locked away, they were in for a shock. If things went the way he wanted, in a month's time, Voldemort would be fighting a two-way war; the first against the known and understood forces of Dumbledore, and the second against someone who preferred stealth to compromise his operations.

"Next please!" Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the demand of the witch at the counter. He walked over, handing in his visa and his papers. The witch examined them for a moment before she looked up without any of the bored apathy he had noticed before. She stared at him for a moment before he asked, "Is everything alright? Is there something wrong?"

Caught out, the witch blushed in an abashed way but she didn't lower her eyes in embarrassment or look away. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Potter. It's just I couldn't help but think when I saw you and your details."

The witch went over the details and with a wave of her wand a copy of the papers along with another piece of parchment that was coloured green flew away. Harry guessed she was updating the visa so the right department would know he had left the country. "How do you plan on returning to Britain?" She questioned.

"I'm travelling on a muggle aeroplane."

He hadn't wanted anyone knowing of his plans and interfering, which he had known would happen if the Ministry or Dumbledore's Order discovered his plans for the holiday, and besides neither group were knowledgeable enough about muggle means of travel, so they were safe. While it would take a lot longer for him to return to Britain, the trip would allow him to sneak back unnoticed and that was necessary at this point since he had made up his mind about what he needed to do for the next few days before he returned to Hogwarts.

The witch blinked at him in surprise. "That will take a while," she commented, "but considering what's happening in the UK at the moment, I suppose it makes sense," she smiled at him when he started in surprise, but it was a solemn smile. "I used to live in Britain. I attended Hogwarts and I watched as those bastards tore the country apart. I left Britain after my partner was murdered by the Death Eaters. When I heard the Daily Prophet deride you for saying that thing was back, I believed you."

"Why's that?" Harry's voice was guarded. He didn't know if he believed her. He had heard lie after lie ever since he had become aware of the world around him, even long before he had attended Hogwarts; if there was one thing his discovery of the truth of his past had taught him when he had discovered the scale of the Dursley's lies and half-truths to say nothing of what he had felt, later on, it was do not take anything or anyone's word for granted. His current approach was to play along with whatever someone was saying and go with it without appearing to believe or disbelieve anything they said.

The witch seemed to sense his uncertainty and she took it mildly without any kind of snide comment. "Because I saw him in action once," she replied quietly but clearly.

Harry gaped.

The witch nodded, glanced over the teenager's shoulder at the growing queue and realised she had to make this quick. "You-Know-Who was a powerful dangerous wizard. As a muggle-born, I was on or near the top of the list of those he wanted dead, but when I heard how you defeated him," she said the word defeated with a definite question there as if she was uncertain of how to describe that unholy mess which had left him an orphan, "and how everyone assumed you'd killed him, I couldn't believe it. Don't get me wrong and don't look shocked, I think you're resourceful if you managed to slip away from Britain and plan on going back sneakily without the Ministry knowing, but I saw him in action. I've heard stories of powerful wizards, but He was a savage monster. I have never seen anything like it in all my life. There was nothing human about him. When I heard the rumour he was dead, I found it hard to believe."

Savage is just about right, Harry thought to himself as he watched the witch busy herself for a moment to catch up with her work in terms of his visa. I don't entirely know what Voldemort did to himself, but I know one thing, he is simply no longer human.

The witch seemed to think she'd said enough, at least that was what Harry assumed, but he was wrong. Fixing him a look "Be careful, Mr Potter," she whispered, her eyes glazed as she clearly remembered some truly painful moments in her life. "Watch your back."

Harry nodded, wondering if she was offering portentous advice or just warning him to be careful. He decided to do both. "Thank you. Take care."

X

In his office in Hogwarts, ignoring the expected reports from the teachers as they had supervised the house-elves in cleaning and fumigating all corners of the castle along with the host of other pieces of mail, although one of them was scrunched up in his fist, Albus Dumbledore stared out of the window over the grounds. Night had fallen, and he had the pleasure of looking out over the castle grounds, lit up by the rune-powered lanterns by the school gates and thanks to the curved nature of some of his office windows, he was able to see the lights in the village. The lights from the lanterns gave a superb amount of illumination over oil, gas, or electrical powered lanterns of the same type, so Dumbledore could see a great deal from where he was standing.

Hogwarts had been a part of his life for a century; one of the reasons being he enjoyed imparting his knowledge and wisdom over the students, but truthfully Dumbledore had forgotten a large part of the joy he'd had in teaching students personally instead of simply being in the wings, or in the shadows. His position in the wizengamot and some of his other ranks which had been seized by Fudge's petty actions had made him take a long hard look at reality, and Dumbledore knew only too well he had made a mistake in taking on so many roles in order to fulfil his hopes and dreams for the future, a future he had planned with Gellert.

But truthfully where had his quest for wealth, position, power, and responsibility taken him? He had made differences in some corners but it had been a long, hard slog and a fight in many of those cases. Dumbledore had allowed Fudge to sack him from those positions, and while it had been irritating and humiliating considering how unfairly Fudge just refused to see reality, he had allowed it because he knew what he and Harry had been claiming about Voldemort was the truth. Sooner or later, the entire wizarding world would see he and Harry were right, and Voldemort hadn't died, as so many people had stupidly assumed (he was just glad he wasn't the only one who had believed differently, but thanks to the story of how Voldemort's empty robes had been found in the Potter's cottage in Godric's Hollow, Dumbledore hadn't been able to make anyone see the truth and he had no proof of Riddle's survival to make anyone think differently) and he was back.

When that happened, Dumbledore planned to make sure Fudge regretted what he had done. He might preach forgiveness, but there were moments even he lost his patience and Fudge was quickly pushing the line.

Dumbledore genuinely wished he didn't have Fudge on his mind, but it was hard with the letter scrunched up tightly in his fist. He had been in the process of going through the reports from the teachers and also going over the list of the new prefects for the upcoming term when he had received it, and he had been annoyed and filled with misgivings when he had noticed the Ministry's seal on the wax as well as the front of the letter envelope.

He had received more than a fair share of grief from the Ministry lately, he didn't need more piled on his shoulders. Dumbledore knew his limits and despite what Fudge, Umbridge, and the idiots who ran the magical world thought, he was not a miracle worker and sooner or later someone was going to make him lose it completely. Sometimes he wished he had taken on the Minister's position; in that role, he would have made a greater difference, but no. Thanks to Gellert, he had needed to lay low for a long time, taking on the headmaster position at Hogwarts and denying himself more power because he wanted to build up his image, but thanks to the war with his old friend/lover, he had gained a taste for such roles and he had been staggered by the experience. And not in a good way.

But if he had taken on the position, how much would have changed?

He often thought of that whenever something like this happened. The letter, written smugly by Fudge's secretary under the direction of the irritating little man, had told him of a recent bill passed through the wizengamot. Essentially it stated the Ministry could step in and send a teacher to Hogwarts if there was a position to be filled. Unfortunately, there was a ready-made post for someone to fill.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts position.

One of Dumbledore's biggest headaches, especially since he had never been able to truly find and tear away that abominable enchantment Voldemort had placed on the position when he had come to Hogwarts all those years ago just after Armando Dippet's death, it made sense the Ministry would send someone to fill in the position, conveniently forgetting the post was jinxed thanks to Riddle's petty spite mixed with forethought, knowing a host of terrible and good teachers in the post would make it hard for the students to learn, which would be advantageous in the long term for Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had never been a big fan of the Ministry; it was one of the reasons he had declined the offer of Minister many, many times over the years. Ever since the Grindelwald war, when Travers had placed those tracking bracelets on him and monitored his messages, blissfully not bothering to realise Dumbledore and his followers wanted to stop the violence and refusing to listen to sense, Dumbledore had not known it would be the shape of things to come.

He had never credited the Ministry with any common sense, and even now he was amazed by just how stupid they were. One of the things he was hopeful for was whoever was going to come was going to be the type of person who would show the students the idiocy behind the Ministry.

And this wasn't sudden either. He had suspected Fudge was going to do something like this for a while now. For the last month, since the year ended and the Triwizard was finished, Fudge had suddenly been talking about how much of a chore the DADA post was for Hogwarts. He had repeated himself over and over again, and Dumbledore hadn't even needed to look into Fudge's mind to work out what the little idiot was doing now.

And now it had happened. The bill had been passed and soon one of Fudge's stooges would be walking in the castle, claiming to be a teacher when in fact, all they would do would be serving Fudge as a spy or an enforcer.

Dumbledore wasn't going to bother fighting it. He knew it would do no good and because he lacked his original power-base there was little he could do from his current position. All he could do was sit and wait while Fudge finalised his plans, although many of them wouldn't see fruition since the mess the Dementors had caused in Little Whinging had hit the public. Tonks and Sirius had been correct in their statements nobody would keep this quiet, and now Fudge was facing a mess of his own. Dumbledore had taken steps to ensure Fudge couldn't contact him through the floo. It was time for Fudge to face the consequences of his actions for a change, and it was long past the time for him to stand on his own two feet.

There was a silver lining to the idea of a fool coming to teach Defence for a year. There was little doubt in his mind the Ministry cretin would force the students to look to themselves for help in learning how to defend themselves, and he was going to have to think of subtle ways of ensuring that path was followed. But truthfully it would be a good experience for the students, especially those who mindlessly trusted the Ministry, to see how far they would go.

The only problem was Dumbledore had no idea who was coming; Fudge had surrounded himself with a gaggle of idiots, yes men and yes women, witches and wizards who were completely incompetent, or overly ambitious and had ability but lacked the intellect or the charisma to take their ambitions to their desired outcome, and wanted to follow another incompetent retard with delusions of grandeur so they could get a taste of power for themselves. It could be anyone.

A chime from the doorbell ward which informed him whenever someone triggered off the password-controlled Griffin statue which would bring them up to his office went off and distracted him from his thoughts.

Dumbledore walked over to the desk and checked it via the one-way mirror enchantment and he found Severus outside. Dumbledore flicked his wand at the door and opened it before Snape could knock. The old wizard was not in the mood for melodrama tonight.

Usually, he would say "come in…" whomever it was, and smile and chuckle inwardly at the joke.

Not tonight though.

He was not happy. He was annoyed and displeased by how stupid Fudge's actions were, although they weren't unexpected.

Snape walked into the office, his expression its usual scowl made all the more forbidding by his long greasy hair and dark eyes and dark robes which billowed around him. Dumbledore had always been impressed by Severus who was the epitome of what a wizard could and should become; he was intelligent, intellectual, he possessed a desire and a drive to learn and understand, and he was a powerful wizard with an inventiveness sadly too many lacked. It was only Severus' life choices that annoyed Dumbledore; for all of his drive, Snape had never been able to shake off his insufferable pride and need to hold onto petty grudges, but what saddened the old wizard the most was how Severus had joined the Death Eaters.

"Hello, Severus," Dumbledore greeted. "If you're here for your annual application for the Defence position, don't waste your breath."

He handed Snape the letter. Snape took it curiously, looking at Dumbledore with an unspoken question.

"Fudge has passed on a law through the wizengamot where he and the Ministry can choose whomever they wish to become teachers," Dumbledore explained shortly.

Snape sneered in disdain at the parchment in his hand, seeing clearly how the parchment had been scrunched up in someone's fist and he guessed Dumbledore had been furious with the note. He threw the letter on the desk, not wanting to read any more of the Ministry's low IQ. "Who are they sending, Headmaster?"

"I don't know. The letter didn't say," Dumbledore didn't bother to add if Snape had wanted to know the answer to that question, he should have read the letter. "One thing is sure, Fudge will be sending someone who is foolishly loyal to him. Unfortunately, that's a small but sizeable list."

"Who do you suspect?"

"Dolores Umbridge, for one," Dumbledore knew there was the possibility of that idiotic and disgusting woman arriving at the school. She was cunning, yes, but she was limited like Fudge was and he trusted her the most. But her duties and role in the Ministry were a problem but it wasn't impossible for her to be reassigned. "Percy Weasley is another."

Snape snorted. "What? The third eldest Weasel? Headmaster, he might be a capable wizard, but he's stupid like the rest of his family. He's a sycophant who sucks up to every authority figure he finds. He's not unlike Granger. He would never last as a teacher."

As much as he hated to say it and he wouldn't dream of saying such a thing to Molly, Dumbledore knew his potions master had a point. "There are a few types of people who desire power, Severus. Those who have both the means and the charisma. Those who have the connections and the character for the role. Those who have the intellect for attaining power, but lack the skill or ability or the charisma for anyone to take them seriously. And lastly, those who are given power but are too inept to use it properly. Cornelius Fudge falls into the final category, as does Dolores Umbridge, while Percy Weasley fits snugly into the category before them. I'd rather Percy be the one who's coming this year."

"Why?"

"Percy might be a sycophant, but he also listens to proof and logic. We only need to find proof of Voldemort's return and he will believe it if its rock hard proof. And he might be susceptible to bribery," Dumbledore explained.

"Bribery?" Snape was surprised.

"Percy thrives on position. He wanted it in order to escape from Molly's tender mercies growing up. That woman's smothering nature ensured her eldest children ran away from her since she pressured them, but Percy wanted to make a difference in the Ministry whereas his elder brothers saw and believed there was no point, but he didn't go to the Ministry for her as Molly believed and deluded herself into thinking. Imagine what would happen if Percy was offered a role of great importance, allowed to work in ways Fudge simply refuses to let him grow because he's ignorant or aware of Percy's abilities and wants to keep him where he is," Dumbledore explained, mentally running through his mind what he could offer the third eldest Weasley. Unfortunately, there was not a great deal, not with his current lack of good fortune. "I only hope it is Percy. I can work with him, although truthfully the other people on the list of potential candidates Fudge is going to send are not an obstacle. The only one I'm worried about is Dolores Umbridge."

"Do you think she'll be a problem if it is her?"

"Have you ever looked into the mind of Dolores Umbridge? In fact, have you ever met her?"

"No and no."

"I thought not. Umbridge left the school three years after you left," Dumbledore observed, unsurprised Snape hadn't seen through his subtle rhetorical questions. He knew the woman, she shared the same disgusting ideologies as any other Death Eater extremist, but she lacked the skills or the power needed to be one. "She's sadistic, Severus. I know full well that Umbridge is or was the head of a prostitute ring dealing and specialising in kidnapped muggle and muggle-born children to fulfil their disgusting fantasies. I have closed the ring down, and I keep watch in case she does it again."

"Why haven't you exposed her?"

"Are you forgetting the law, Severus, concerning legilimency?" Dumbledore asked. "You know as well as I do several ministers who disliked the mind-arts went to a lot of trouble to ensure those who read the thoughts of others could not use them in evidence. I don't want someone like Umbridge in Hogwarts, but truthfully if you look at it differently, her presence will do several things at once. First, it will ensure many will lose faith in Fudge and the Ministry itself. Second, it will finally shake the students out of their complacent lethargy if they're serious about wanting to protect themselves, and they will learn magic on their own because Umbridge or whoever is coming this year will not teach them. Third, Umbridge is likely to punish everyone around her for her own twisted amusement, and it will help the students grow on their own without any problems. Fourth, can you imagine what good it will do, especially with students like Hermione Granger, who worship teachers like they're deities will begin losing faith?"

Snape eyed the elderly headmaster. It never failed to amaze him how conniving Dumbledore was, but the Potions Master could not help but note the old wizard wasn't saying a great deal, like why he seemed to want all of it all, but he knew Dumbledore had a number of ideas in mind.

X

Knockturn Alley.

A maze of rank, dark, stinking bricked passageways and connected to Diagon Alley with small passageways nobody in the right mind would venture near, where little shops were seemingly built or stacked on top of one another, filled with dark artefacts; talismans, magical trinkets, some contained hidden books which contained instructions for the creation of horcruxes, for terrible rituals the Ministry had banned and came with terrible punishments should anyone be stupid enough advertise they had them.

The alley was forever dark, even during the day, by which it seemed permanently in shadow, making them the perfect haunting grounds for wraiths or dark wizards poised to leap out on unsuspecting passersby… although sometimes it often resulted in their deaths. Nobody in their right mind would venture down Knockturn Alley.

Thankful his research and practice into the disillusionment charm and spells which blocked out all the noise had paid off, Harry kept his hand on the American bowie knives he'd acquired from his holiday in the states. He had bad memories of this stinking place ever since he'd accidentally travelled to Borgin & Burkes before his second year because his knowledge of floo travel was crap. And he remembered how those who hung around here like human leeches had grabbed at him before Hagrid came and got him out. That was one of the reasons he had made himself invisible and why he'd made sure no sound came from his shoes.

Another was because he needed to get to a place to blow it to bits.

You couldn't do that if you were seen or heard.

Calmly Harry clenched his fist around the orb that was tied to the tracking charm Dobby had planted on the target he was going to destroy. He would have preferred something a bit more old fashioned but sophisticated like a map, since it would have inspired him to check other routes in the alley to find inspiration for other things to blow up, to say nothing of finding new resources he currently didn't know about yet.

There were bookshops containing all kinds of books, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to touch them, still… as Sir Francis Bacon once said, Knowledge is power.

Just because he didn't like the kind of things the Death Eaters did, did not mean he had the skills and the knowledge for beating them. He just didn't want to risk his soul and his nature to achieve the ends.

Thanks to the tracking charm Harry didn't have to go far, but by the time he got there he was glad.

It had been a very eerie and chilling trip. The people here were loitering around the alley like polar bears waiting at breathing hole left by seals, or moray eels waiting for food to come near their dens, but the witches and wizards here seemed insane, warped. It was as if being here had robbed them of their sanity and strength; many of them looked like their bodies were being sucked dry, leaving behind scarecrow thin bodies wasted away by god knew what.

By the time he got to his destination, Harry was not only pleased he wondered if he should find a way of putting all of them out of their collective misery, and wipe them out.

Wrapping his hand around the thermos flask he'd bought to contain the potion he'd prepared, Harry steeled himself and walked inside. Dobby, as the former Malfoy elf, knew only too well Lucius and the other Death Eaters had set up a presence in the alley for recruitment purposes. However, even there the Death Eaters were sick in the head. They might have presented themselves off as highly respectable pureblood wizards and witches, but they had an obsession with hedonistic depravity. The place was a recruitment centre, brothel, torture chamber, and seedy bar all rolled into one horrible image. The message was clear; "Join the Dark Lord, and you'll get great rewards anyway you like, by torturing muggles and mudbloods anyway you like."

It was a message many were finding attractive. The…establishment (he didn't know what it was called) was open to anyone who wanted to join, however for the time being it was mostly by appointment; those who wished to become Death Eaters had to approach one of the guards outside or contact a senior Death Eater, the higher up the better.

As he stepped through the doors avoiding the guards - it seemed even wizards who couldn't see the unseen believed there was nothing there and so didn't bother to check although with how the Ministry refused to accept the possibility of Voldemort's return, there was no need to be cautious - Harry instantly stepped to the side, invisible lip curling in disgust.

All around him were Death Eaters, full, those-to-be-marked, or sympathisers raping and torturing muggles. Harry had known from the moment Dobby had reported this to him, he would need to find some way of saving them. Luckily for him, Dobby and Winky were standing by. They were waiting for him to plant the bomb and ferry them to St. Mungo's.

Between the muggle-borns and muggles forced into sex slavery by the Death Eaters, and the death of so many purebloods, the Ministry would have a hard time, a very hard time, dealing with this mess.

In fact, he was counting on the chaos.

In the meantime, he had a chance to see who the senior Death Eaters for tonight were. It was Lucius Malfoy, and another wizard he recognised. It took him a moment to recognise him as Macnair, the Ministry executioner. The Intel Dobby had provided him had made it clear both wizards were spreading rumours in the Ministry, while Malfoy was bribing Fudge and others susceptible in the wizengamot for passing laws that benefited Voldemort in the long run.

But the death of the two men would benefit the magical world. Once Malfoy senior was dead, all he needed to worry about was ensuring Draco died next. He had the poisons ready.

The only problem was finding a safe place to plant the thermos. Following another Death Eater wannabe, who luckily went down into the basement dragging a little boy with him (the boy looked dazed, out of it but he hoped whatever was done to the kid, to all the victims, was reversible), Harry urgently looked for a quiet place to plant the bomb-thermos, seeing for himself the basement was divided into cells. The sound of pleasurable cries mingling with the smell of sex and the screams of pain and fear from the victims who weren't broken in properly made him angry, and determined to stop this.

Harry walked around slowly, narrowly avoiding bumping by accident into a couple of people stumbling around, looking desperately for a place to plant the bomb and summon one of his elves to get out of here. Finally, he found a cabinet made from wood which had likely once been rich, luxuriant, but was now rotten and black with a substance he didn't even want to know about.

Opening the cabinet while taking a look around to make sure nobody was around, Harry placed the thermos at the bottom in the darkest corner before he took his wand and inscribed the rune which would detonate the bomb. He worked for a minute, and when he was finished he prodded the rune while calling for Dobby.