The end of the summer holidays arrived entirely too soon. Harry spent the remainder of his holidays splitting time between his home with Sirius, that he had yet to name, and the Burrow, with the exception of the attack at the World Cup, it had unquestionably been the best summer of Harry's life. While Harry was excited to be heading back to Hogwarts, he was honestly loathe to leave Sirius. It was with a somewhat heavy-heart, that Harry and Sirius left for Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The Hogwarts express was as respondent as it had ever been before, as Harry quickly boarded and stowed his things in an empty compartment,
He arrived back to Sirius on the platform, just as Ginny and Hermione burst through the barrier, looking slightly out of breath, having apparently taking the barrier at a run. A moment later, the remaining Weasley's came through the barrier as well. Harry helped Ron and Hermione pack their things away in Harry's compartment, before Harry gave Mrs. Weasley a hug, then Sirius.
"Have a good year, kid," Sirius said gruffly,
"I'll see you soon, Sirius," Harry said,
"I know," The older man replied, before releasing Harry, as the conductors started slamming doors shut to the train. Hopping onto the train, Harry and the others waved goodbye, as the train slowly started to depart from the station, they watched as Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley slowly disappeared from sight.
"Come on," Harry said, and after saying goodbye to Fred, George, and Ginny, they slipped into their compartment.
"Did you see the Prophet this morning?" Ron asked excitedly, as he slipped onto the bench.
"No," Harry said in interest, "What happened?"
"Look at this!" Ron said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet, and thrusting it into his hands.
Taking the paper, Harry skimmed the front page. The majority of the front page was covered with an image of a resplendent looking manor, with an enormous wrought-iron gate. In the background, Harry could see several large peacocks strutting about the vast gardens leading up to the manor. The headline read:
"Tragic Accident at Malfoy Manner! Renowned Warlock Maimed!" Rita Skeeter:
"Early this morning, Malfoy Matriarch, Narcissa Malfoy (Age: 39) announced that her husband, Lucius Malfoy, suffered a tragic accident while conducting business abroad a few weeks ago. Lucius Malfoy (Age: 40) is a well-respected member of the Wizengamot, and has been working closely with the Ministry for the last few years. According to sources close to the family, Mr. Malfoy was inspecting one of his potions businesses in France, when a cauldron exploded. Mr. Malfoy has not been seen in a number of weeks, and rumors were speculating that he had been among those injured during the World Cup. In her statement to reporters this morning, Narcissa Malfoy said, 'My family left the World Cup immediately after the match. Lucius had pressing business in France when the accident occurred. While indisposed, he is recovering, and should be back to work in a few more weeks.' Those close to the family have reported that they have visited the Malfoy patriarch, and he appears to be in good spirits. Those of us at the Daily Prophet would like to offer our sympathies for one of the finest wizards in Briatin. (The Malfoy family, cont. Page 6)"
Harry looked up, his eyes wide, "They didn't leave the match! Draco was in the forest!"
"We think Malfoy's dad was one of the one's hurt during the attack," Hermione said,
"Do ya reckon he's actually alive, or are they covering it up?" Harry asked,
"I betcha it's a cover up," Ron said, "No one's seen him in weeks, and I overheard dad talking to mum about how the Minister was getting worried about him, which means that no one has seen him. Do you think it was Professor Jackson that killed him?"
Harry's stomach clenched painfully at the thought. The images of what Professor Jackson had done to those men were still painfully fresh in his mind. His memories of the way Professor Jackson had brutally cut those men down had been in Harry's dreams almost every night since the World Cup. He just had such a hard time understanding how Professor Jackson could be so brutal. It just seemed so unlike him. But even then, Harry was conflicted. He was not so innocent himself as to think Professor Jackson a murderer, not when Harry still occasionally had nightmares about Quirrell, but Harry was feeling increasingly strange about his professor. His concerns only growing the more he and Sirius talked about Professor Jackson's inconsistent past.
"Ron," Hermione hissed, looking horrified, "Professor Jackson wouldn't-wouldn't kill anyone…he's far too kind."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Harry said softly, and both turned to look at him in surprise. Harry had always been one of Professor Jackson's most outspoken supporters.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, and Harry relayed what Sirius had told him.
"But, why would he lie about that? Why not just say he worked for the ICW?" Ron asked, "It's not like it would necessarily be a bad thing."
"I have no idea…" Hermione said, her brows furrowed in thought, "He-he could have been working on some secret projects or something? Something he was not allowed to talk about? I know that former members of the Department of Mysteries aren't allowed to talk about what they did, and most even refuse acknowledging working for the department at all."
"What's the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked,
"It's a department deep inside the Ministry," Ron explained, "The people who work there, they're called Unspeakables, dad told me about them once. Apparently they work on top-secret projects for the Ministry. Working on the nature of magic and things like that."
"Rumor has it," Hermione said, "That the Department of Mysteries were the one's to first develop time-turners."
"You think the ICW has an equivalent? And maybe they told Professor Jackson that he couldn't even admit that he worked for them?" Harry asked,
"If he did," Hermione pondered, "Then it would make sense for him to work at Hogwarts. He would have needed work, and Professor Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock for the ICW. He would have likely known Professor Jackson personally, and offered him a position,"
"Hang on a minute," Ron said, his eyes crossed in thought, "I just remembered something. Something Bill told me ages ago, right when he was just starting out as a Curse Breaker. He was working in Egypt, when a group of people arrived from the ICW. They were called-damn what were they called again?" He groaned and leaned back into his bench for a moment as he thought, before he snapped his fingers in realization,
"Centurions! Bill said they were Centurions! He said they work directly for the ICW, and are the first line of defense against anything that might expose the magical world. They were in Egypt because a Sphinx had gotten loose from one of the pyramids! The Centurions were brought in to take it down."
"But then, why would Professor Jackson not admit that he was a Centurion? Surely that would be a tremendous honor?" Hermione asked, and Ron shrugged,
"Dunno," He said, scratching his head, "Bill said that their faces were all covered, and they only had codenames. Maybe no one is supposed to know who they are?"
"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione said slowly,
"It would certainly fit," Harry said, "If he worked for the American Military, maybe he was drafted out of them?"
"Which tells us what, exactly?" Ron asked,
"That he's an exceptionally talented wizard?" Hermione said, making the statement sound like a question. She sighed, and fell into the bench, "I don't know. I guess it doesn't really tell us anything we didn't already know. We know that Professor Jackson is powerful,"
"I still trust him," Harry said defiantly, "Even if he lied, even if was a Centurion or whatever, and no matter what happened at the World Cup, he's still only ever looked out for us. He cares about us, there's no changing that." Ron and Hermione agreed, but even after all of that, Harry still felt uneasy about what he'd seen. Professor Jackson had fought like a man who had been fighting all his life. He hadn't flinched or hesitated for even a second. It was disconcerting, but Harry wanted to trust the man, and no matter how brutally he'd fought, Harry kept reminding himself, that he'd only fought like that to protect people. It had been him, that had rescued the trapped Muggles. It had been him that had fought off the evil wizards. He had fought like Harry had always envisioned this father fighting.
As the silence stretched on, and the sky turned dark and stormy, Harry was overcome with images of himself, fighting as Professor Jackson had. As his father no doubt had. He thought about his vision again as well, and focused on how apparently Voldemort was on the move, and was plotting against him. Then, his mind turned back to Professor Trelawney's prophecy. How she had said that Voldemort would rise again. Combining the vision, with what Trelawney had said, and finally with what had happened at the World Cup, Harry was certain that something terrible was going to happen soon. That Voldemort, somehow, was going to return.
Harry knew that should the man return, that Harry would not be safe. Three times, Harry had defeated Voldemort, and Harry knew enough about the man to know that it had been three times too many for him to be satisfied with. Especially considering how Voldemort seemed to need Harry for something, Harry knew that a time would soon come, where he would need to fight. Where his life would once again be in danger. And when that time came, he would fight, he would fight like Professor Jackson had fought. No matter how brutal Professor Jackson might have been, no matter how vicious, he had fought to protect others. And as the rain began to fall, and the English countryside disappeared behind the sunken sun, Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione. He thought of them, being trapped by the Death Eaters, being tortured as the Muggles had been, and suddenly he understood. He understood why Professor Jackson's boggart was his friend's dismembered bodies. He understood why he'd fought so ferociously and without mercy.
Professor Jackson had fought to protect.
And so too, would Harry.
BREAK
The Great Hall was as beautiful and resplendent as Harry had remembered it, but better than that, was the Hall was blissfully dry. The storm outside, had turned into little more than a monsoon. When the first-years where led in, the poor things looked as though they had just stepped out of a bath. The sorting couldn't have gone any slower, as Harry's stomach was growling painfully, but soon enough, they were stuffing their faces.
"Oh God," Ron moaned around a mouthful of chicken, "That's better, I've been starving all day,"
"You're lucky there's even a feast tonight," Came a voice from the middle of the table, as Nearly Headless Nick floated up through the wood, "What with what happened in the Kitchen's earlier."
"What happened?" Harry asked, as he poured gravy over his mashed potatoes,
"Peeves, of course," Nick said, watching in a mixture of revulsion and jealousy, as Ron tore half a chicken leg off with one bite, "It was the usual argument, he wanted to join in the feast, but that was out of the question, as I'm sure you can understand. There was a meeting, but thankfully, the Bloody Baron put his foot down, and denied the request," He sighed dramatcially, his head lolling dangerously to one side of the ruffle on his neck, "Well I'm sure you can guess how Peeves handled that,"
"With the maturity and grace a man thrice his age should possess?" Harry guessed, with a smirk on his face. Nick just laughed,
"Very amusing, Harry, but unfortunately not. No he set about wrecking the kitchens. Pots and pans everywhere, soup pooling up to the stove tops. Pour house-elves were terrified out of their minds,"
There was a clanging, as Hermione dropped her spoon into her bowl, her eyes wide in horror, "Hogwarts has house-elves?" She asked, aghast,
"Well certainly," Said Nick, looking disgruntled, "Who do you think makes the dinners? Or handles your laundry? There must be hundreds of the little devils. If I'm not wrong, I believe there's more at Hogwarts, than anywhere else in Britain."
Hermione just stared at him, "But-but-but they get paid, right? They weekends, and-and-and holidays, and sick leave and things…don't they?"
Nick just gave her a very peculiar look, "Of course not, house-elves don't want sick leave or pensions," Hermione turned a disgusted look at her food, and pushed it away from her. In spite of Ron's attempts to get her to eat, Hermione refused another bite, and didn't have any of the wonderful desserts that appeared on the table. When the puddings and cakes were eaten, and they were all feeling sleepy, Professor Dumbledore rose from the head table.
"Well then!" He said loudly, as the noise in the Hall came to an abrupt end, "Now that we are well-fed and watered," Hermione made an indignant sort of noise, "I must ask for your attention, for a few more moments, as I make some announcements. Mr. Filch has asked me to inform you all that the banned objects list this year, has been expanded, for the list of recently banned items, see the notices on your Common Room bulletin boards." The corners of Dumbledore's mouth quirked upwards, as though amused by the notion, "As always, the Forbidden Forrest on the edge of the grounds, is forbidden to all students, as is the village of Hogsmeade, to all students below third-year. It is also my painful duty to announce, that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup is cancelled, for the duration of the year,"
Harry, as well as every other member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and the other teams from the other houses rose to their feet in outrage, and shock. However, Dumbledore raised his hands for quiet, and Harry sank back onto the bench, mouthing wordlessly at Fred Weasley. who was looking at him in horror.
"This is due," Dumbledore said loudly, as the Hall quieted once more, "To an event, that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year. As it will take much of our teacher's time and energy to oversee, it will be impossible to host Quidditch this year, however I know that you will enjoy what we have in store immensely. Now, I have great pleasure in announcing, for the first time in-" However whatever Dumbledore was about to say, was lost as the ceiling above them, enchanted to reflect the night sky, roared with thunder, and the doors to the Hall burst open.
All the heads turned to the front of the Hall, where a man was standing. He was an older man, soaking wet from the storm, with a mane of shaggy, dark-grey hair, which was matted to his head with water. With one hand, he reached into the pocket of his traveling cloak, and withdrew a wand. With a quick wave, his visage dried, as the water vanished. Swiping the dry hair from his face, Harry saw one of the horrific looking men he'd ever seen. His face looked as though it had been carved with a knife; a chunk of nose was missing, and scars criss-crossed across his face, leaving him looking like someone's first attempt at a whistling block. But as terrifying as his face was, it was the man's eyes, that were most startling of all. One of his eyes was small, dark, and beady, but the other was shockingly electric blue. It was held in place with a strap of leather, and Harry was certain it was a fake. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later, when he saw the eye disappear into the side of the man's head, before it whirled around to the other side, and it began spinning rapidly in place.
He took a step, and a dull clunking sound, and Harry noticed that one of his legs was made of thick steel. The stranger clunked his way across the Hall, his foot creaking along with the large walking stick in his grasp, before reaching Dumbledore, who had strode around the Head Table to greet him. They embraced like old friends, and shared a muted conversation, before gesturing to the empty seat beside Professor Jackson, on Dumbledore's immediate right. Dumbledore followed the stranger as he limped his way to his chair. Depositing himself roughly in the chair, he pulled a large plate of sausages in his direction, taking a sniff of one, before taking an enormous bite out of it.
"Students!" Dumbledore announced, once again, standing in front of his chair, "Allow me to introduce, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody!" While it was normal for most new members of staff to receive applause, no one in the hall clapped for Professor Moody, who seemed too preoccupied with his sausages to notice or care.
"Moody?" Harry heard Ron say, "Surely not Mad-Eye Moody!"
"Who's Mad-Eye Moody?" Harry asked, and Hermione leaned in close as well, to listen,
"I heard dad talk about him a couple of times, dad even went out to help him out with something this morning. Something about a bunch of dustbins attacking a Muggle postman." Ron explained, "He was supposed to be one of the best aurors the Ministry has ever seen. Half the cells in Azkaban are full, thanks to him."
"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, "What happened to his face,"
"The job, I would assume," Harry said darkly.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore announced again, hushing the muttering crowd, "This year, Hogwarts is to have the honor, of hosting a legendary event. An event, that has not been held in over a century. For the next several months, Hogwarts is to play host, for the Tri-Wizard Tournament!"
"You're joking!" Fred Weasley shouted, successfully breaking the tension, as the Hall burst into laughter, and even Dumbledore was chuckling in amusement.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley, though I do recall hearing a rather humorous one this summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun all walking into a bar,"
Professor Jackson groaned loudly, and hid his face in his hands, and the hall erupted into laughter again,
"Well," Said Dumbledore with a chuckle, "Perhaps it's better served, for another time. Now where was I-ah-yes, the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Now some of you will not know what this tournament is, so allow me to explain. The Tri-Wizard Tournament was established several centuries ago, as a friendly competition between the schools in Europe. Traditionally, only Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang have competed. A champion, will be selected, to represent each of the schools, and these champions will have to complete three special tasks. Unfortunately, the tournament was cancelled some time ago, due to a, ah, unfortunately high death-toll."
"Death-toll?" Hermione whispered in alarm, but she seemed alone in her concern. All around the Hall, excited whispering broke out, as the students spoke to one another in hushed tones. For his part, Harry sort of shared Hermione's sentiment, if the tournament was optional, he decided then and there, that he wouldn't be competing. His life was in enough danger, with the mounting threat of Voldemort, for him to be too concerned with getting killed in some silly tournament.
"Over the years, there have been several attempts to restart the tournament, however none were successful until the last few years, in which our very own Departments of International Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports managed to revive the tournament. We have been working tirelessly, over the summer, to ensure that the students selected, will never be in any real threat of harm. The heads of Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang will be arriving with their potential contenders in October, and the selection of the Champions will the evening of Halloween. We will be having an impartial judge, determine who will be representing each of the schools, and who will be competing for the glory of the title of Tri-Wizard Cup Champion, and the thousand galleon prize."
Once again, the hall broke out in excited whispers, as students began talking about who was going to enter. Up the table, Harry heard George Weasley announce he was going to enter, but the din died down when Dumbledore called for quiet,
"As eager as I'm sure you all are to bring the Cup to Hogwarts, I regret to inform you that, for the safety of you all, only students who are seventeen years of age, will be able to compete in the Tournament. This-" He said, loudly, over the outburst of outrage from the students, "We believe is necessary to ensure that whoever is selected, is suitably prepared. Safe as we are attempting to make the tournaments, the tasks will be dangerous, and it is unlikely that those who are below sixth year, will be able to cope with the rigors of the event. I will be personally taking precautions to ensure that no student will be able to hoodwink the selection process. Do not attempt to get by these restrictions, I assure you that whatever you try, will not work." His eyes twinkled slightly, as they flitted over to Fred and George, who were looking rather mutinous.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang will remain with us for the greater part of the year, and I know that you all will be courteous, and show our guests how hospitable Hogwarts can be. Furthermore, I expect that, whomever is selected, you all will give your undying support. Now, it is late, and I know you all wish to be well-rested for tomorrow's lessons. Off to bed now, chop-chop." He concluded with a clap of his hands. Dumbledore immediately turned, and delved into a conversation with Professor Moody, as the rest of Hall began to steadily empty.
"Whaddya reckon?" Ron asked, as he, Harry, and Hermione stood and joined the throngs of students leaving the Hall. "Would you enter if you could,"
"No," Said Harry emphatically, "I think I've had enough adventures for one lifetime thank you very much,"
"Yeah," Ron said, putting his arms behind his head as he walked, "As great as it would be to have a thousand galleons, I think it'll be nice not having to fear for my life for once,"
Hermione snorted, "I don't think you could have understated that more if you tried, Ron. A nice quiet year. I'll be happy to watch all of this from the stands. We have our O.W.L.'s next year, and I want to make sure we're well prepared!"
Ron and Harry shared a look, before rolling their eyes. As much as Harry was making more of an effort with his studies, Hermione tended to take things to the extreme.
They reached the landing for the fourth-floor, when Harry hesitated, his eyes darting to the corridor where he knew Professor Jackson's office resided.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, stopping on the step, as students flowed past them, "What are you doing?"
Making his decision, Harry waved her and Ron off, "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow, I need to speak with Professor Jackson about something,"
Ron and Hermione shared a look, no doubt thinking Harry was going to confront Professor Jackson about his past,
"Harry," Hermione said uncertainly, "I don't think-"
"It's not that, Hermione," Harry said, walking away, "I promise, I'll talk to you about it tomorrow," And without giving them a chance to reply, Harry strode away, towards Professor Jackson's office. Arriving at the familiar door, Harry knocked, and was told to enter.
"Harry," Professor Jackson said, as he lounged at his desk. He had been reading a letter, and looked up when Harry entered the room. Mrs. O'Leary, seeing Harry, bounded out of the shadows, and all but tackled Harry to the ground. Harry, used to the large dog, was able to keep his footing, and stopped himself from falling over.
"Get off him, O" Professor Jackson called out, and Mrs. O'Leary clambered off of him, but stayed at his side, as Harry approached what he referred to as his seat, across from his professor.
"We making this a tradition then, Harry?" Professor Jackson said with a smile, as he put the letter down, and leaned back in his chair,
"Ah, I guess so, Professor," Harry said with an uncomfortable chuckle,
"Well then," Professor Jackson said, gesturing widely with his arms, "What's up?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure how to broach the topic. With a sigh, he steeled his nerves, and did as Sirius bade him.
"Sir, I…I wanted to talk to you about-about a dream I had this summer." Harry said, and Professor Jackson stiffened in his seat, and he sat up straighter, looking intently at Harry, nodding at him to continue. That was what Harry truly appreciated about his professor, the man always took everything Harry said seriously.
With a deep breath, Harry told Professor Jackson all about his dream. Professor Jackson listened, his eyes wide, and nostrils flared, his face draining slowly of color.
"…And then when I saw the Dark Mark, I knew that the vision had been real, that-that what I'd seen had actually happened!" Harry finished. For a moment, Professor Jackson didn't react, he just stared at Harry, and Harry worried that he might be in trouble for some reason. Then, abruptly, Professor Jackson stood up, knocking his chair to the ground.
"Come with me," He said in a tone that brokered no argument. Harry didn't hesitate, as he followed Professor Jackson over to the fireplace on the other side of the room. Professor Jackson reached into the small jar on the ledge of the fireplace, and threw it into the fire,
"Dumbledore's office," He said clearly, before stepping into the fire, and disappearing into the green flames. Knowing his professor was expecting him to follow, Harry followed. But only after hesitating for a moment, he didn't want to meet with Dumbledore, but Sirius had wanted this to happen, and Harry knew that sooner or later, he needed to talk to the headmaster again. Throwing his own handful of flow powder into the fire, Harry followed his professor. He stumbled out of the fireplace, into the familiar office of Albus Dumbledore. Professor Jackson was waiting by the fireside, glaring over at where Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk,
"Well, now that we're all here," Dumbledore said, "Might I inquire as to the nature of this late night intrusion?"
Professor Jackson pointed over at Harry, as he advanced on Dumbledore, "Harry had a dream, a dream about Voldemort. Only it wasn't a dream," He said, his voice soft, yet Harry could detect an undercurrent of heat in the man's voice. He placed both his hands on Dumbledore's desk, and leaned forward, "It was a vision. A vision of something he certainly should not have been able to see. I asked you, Dumbledore, years ago, I asked if one of his-"
"I know what concerns you, Perseus," Dumbledore said calmly, not seemingly intimidated in the least, "And I can assure you that I did not mislead you. He is just as mortal as I am." Dumbledore stood, and walked away from his desk, and approached Harry, "Harry, I ask that you tell me what it was that you saw in this vision."
So, for the third time, Harry recounted what he'd seen at the beginning of August. When he was done, Dumbledore sighed, and shared a look with Professor Jackson,
"I had a feeling, this would happen," He said, resignedly.
"Sir?" Harry asked, his annoyance with the man receding in place of curiosity and concern.
"Harry, you will recall that some time ago, I told you that you and Voldemort shared a connection," Dumbledore explained, turning to look at Harry, "Do you remember?"
Harry nodded, remembering the conversation he'd had with the man in the same office at the end of his second year.
"Well, I believe that when Voldemort transferred some of his power to you, a connection was forged. A connection…which bound the two of you together. Would I be correct in assuming that your scar has been bothering you far more than usual?" Dumbledore asked,
Harry nodded, doing his best not to panic at the realization that he and Voldemort had more of a connection than he'd ever realized.
"Given what you have seen, I suppose it's not much of a surprise." Dumbledore nodded, "Unfortunately Harry, I believe your concerns are likely well-founded. Voldemort is once again, on the move, and I believe that he has finally found a way to restore himself back to power."
"You think this plan he mentioned, has anything to do with the Tournament?" Professor Jackson asked sharply,
"I believe it would be foolish to think he wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity," Dumbledore said, "I will have Alastor patrol the cup, when the schools get here; Perseus might I ask-"
"I'll take up whatever shifts he doesn't," Professor Jackson said quickly,
"You think he'd try and get me into the tournament, sir?" Harry asked, "But why? What good would that do?"
"It would be a good way to kill you and make it look like an accident," Professor Jackson said, not bothering to mince his words, and he rolled his eyes the sharp look Dumbledore shot him, "Kid's been through nearly as much as I was by the time I was his age, Dumbledore, I think he's more than used to someone being out for his blood by this point."
It was rather depressing that the man was right,
"Well, that being said, I do not believe that he wishes for you to be dead, not yet," Dumbledore said,
"Why not, sir?" Harry asked,
"Because, Harry," Dumbledore explained calmly, "I believe that you told me, that Voldemort said he needed you for something, which tells me that he needs you alive."
"Why though?" Professor Jackson asked, "What could he possibly need Harry for?" Harry could only agree with his professor. He was at a loss for any reason Voldemort would possibly need Harry for.
"I have my suspicions," Dumbledore said, and Professor Jackson growled menacingly,
"By the gods, Albus Dumbledore, enough with the beautiful mind shit, now is not the time or the place for this. How about you just give us a straight answer for once in your life!"
Dumbledore sighed, "Perseus," He said, as though talking to one of his students,
"No!" Professor Jackson roared, and he advanced on the headmaster. "No! Not again! We are not your pieces to play with on a chessboard, we are people, and this is Harry's life that's on the line. Not yours, his. Now give us a straight answer or so help me I will make you,"
Harry was stunned. Never in his life, would he ever have imagined anyone speaking to Albus Dumbledore as Professor Jackson just had. Apparently Dumbledore hadn't expected it either, as he flinched away slightly in surprise, as Professor Jackson got nose to nose with the man.
"You owe him this, Albus," Professor Jackson snarled, "You can't keep him in the dark, whatever you're thinking, the kid needs to know. You've betrayed his trust once already, you really want to go two for two?"
Dumbledore just stared at his subordinate, and they seemed to share some kind of silent conversation.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said slowly, "Perhaps you are correct, Perseus. Perhaps I have…lost perspective." He took a step away from Professor Jackson, and turned to Harry, "Forgive me, Harry. I did not wish to keep you in the dark unnecessarily; I only wished to protect what innocence you have left."
"Sir, I lost the chance at being innocent when I killed Quirrell," Harry said, and Dumbledore flinched, while Professor Jackson's head whipped in Harry's direction,
"What?" He snapped, but Dumbledore ignored him, choosing instead to return to the seat behind his desk. Folding his hands together, he gestured for Harry and Professor Jackson to take the seats opposite him.
"Oddly enough, Harry, it is your interaction with Quirrell, which tells me what Voldemort needs from you."
"Which is what?" Harry asked, confused,
"Do you not remember what happened, when he tried to touch you?" Dumbledore said, and Harry looked away. The images of Quirrell's hands and body burning and bubbling dancing in front of his eyes.
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, sadly, "Your mother's love for you, specifically her blood running through your veins, gives you a protection against Voldemort. One I know for certain, he wishes to overcome. Voldemort loathed weakness above anything else, and having such a vulnerable weakness to the one to cause his downfall, I believe, has been haunting him for thirteen years. There are any number of rituals that can be used to restore one from the brink of death, each darker and more twisted than the last, and more than one uses the blood of an unwilling victim. I believe this is why he wishes to use you; I believe he wishes to use your blood, in order to protect himself from being unable to kill you."
Harry was too stunned to speak. His mouth worked wordlessly as he stared at Dumbledore, he turned, looking to Professor Jackson, who's jaw was clenched tight. Harry looked down, his hands clenching and unclenching. As shocking as it was to hear, he was far less surprised than he ought to have been. He had always suspected, ever since the end of his first year, that Voldemort might come back, and that he would be after him. Instead of fear, defiance flooded his being. He looked up sharply, and met Dumbledore's gaze fiercely,
"Well let him try and get it then!" He said angrily, his shoulders shaking in fury, "Let him try. I've beaten him before, and I'll do it again. He wants my blood, he has to kill me to get it."
Professor Jackson's jaw unclenched, and he gave Harry a fierce smirk, but Professor Dumbledore's shoulders sagged,
"That, Harry, is precisely what I'm worried about," He said,
"You think they'll use the Tournament to get to him, then?" Professor Jackson asked, and Dumbledore nodded,
"It would be easy, using the chaos of the Tournament, to draw him away. If it is truly their plan to use Harry, then entering him into the Tournament would work well, while we have not yet shared the tasks with anyone outside of the committee, I know at least two of the tasks will keep the champions isolated, it would be the perfect opportunity for Voldemort or one of his allies, to snatch him."
"I'll send the word out, get in touch with some old friends, we need some added protections, we can use the guise of the attack at the World Cup as an excuse," Professor Jackson said, but Dumbledore hesitated, before shaking his head,
"I do not believe that is wise," He said slowly,
"Why!?" Professor Jackson asked incredulously, "How is that a bad idea? How could we even consider having anything but more protection, we wouldn't even need to tell anyone, you know who I'm talking about! You know they can't be found if they don't want to be!"
Harry couldn't help agreeing with his professor; he couldn't see any reason not to have more people around,
"Because…" Dumbledore started to say, then hesitated,
"Say it," Professor Jackson growled, and Dumbledore sighed,
"Because I do not wish to risk tipping him off, and driving Voldemort to ground." He said.
Harry couldn't understand the logic behind that, but Professor Jackson apparently did, as he suddenly stoop up, his chair clattering to the ground,
"You want to use Harry as bait?" He roared,
"Yes," Dumbledore said, and Harry felt something inside him shatter.
"W-what?" Harry asked, unable to believe that he'd heard correctly. Dumbledore wouldn't do that to him, wouldn't offer Harry up as a lamb to the slaughter. Professor Jackson looked like he wanted nothing more than to strangle Dumbledore, he was positively quivering in barely-suppressed fury,
"Give me, one good reason, why I shouldn't kill you right here, and right now," He hissed out, and Harry turned to his professor stunned,
"I understand your anger, Perseus-" Dumbledore began to say,
"No you do not!" Professor Jackson roared, "You claim to be different, you claim to be mortal yet you act no differently than they do! Have you truly become so arrogant that you think yourself above morality?"
"This could be our only opportunity to catch Voldemort and stop him once and for all," Dumbledore said calmly, "Think, Perseus, think, he is weak right now. Vulnerable. The time would be right to end this now, before any more blood can be spilled."
"At the risk of Harry's life, you mean," Professor Jackson bellowed, and Harry had never seen the man so incensed. "We don't even know if we could actually kill the bastard! He escaped death once before, what's stopping him from doing it again?"
Dumbledore hesitated at that, and Harry saw something flash across his visage, as though he knew more than he was letting on. As though he wasn't playing all of his cards at once, and was hiding what his true motives were.
"I believe that this is best course of action, Perseus."
"And I don't! You don't get to play god, Dumbledore, not with me!"
"Professor," Harry said quietly, and immediately, Professor Jackson fell silent, as he turned to look at Harry. Steeling his nerves, Harry took a shaky breath but squared his shoulders and glared at the headmaster, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, I just want you to know, that I'm getting pretty sick and tired of you trying to control my life. Professor Jackson is right, it's my life, not yours, and you don't get to decide my life for me." Dumbledore flinched, and looked as though Harry as good as slapped him,
"That being said…I agree." Professor Jackson goggled at him, his mouth opening and closing in shock. As his professors had argued, Harry had been thinking. As much as he agreed with Professor Jackson, and was thankful that he was trying to look out for his safety, Harry couldn't help but agree with Dumbledore. For fourteen years, Voldemort or his followers had been after Harry. Had been trying to hurt or kill him. Furthermore, the man had killed Harry's parents, and countless others, the danger he posed to not only Harry, but the magical world was great. If there was an opportunity to kill Voldemort, to stop him, and Harry could play a role in stopping the man that had murdered his parents, Harry felt as though he had a duty to do it.
Harry looked up, and met Professor Jackson's gaze. The man's eyes were imploring, as though silently begging Harry to rethink it. Harry knew the man was only trying to look out for him, but Harry was resolute.
"Professor Jackson, if Voldemort is coming back, and I can do something to stop him, then I have to do whatever I can." Professor Jackson looked like he wanted nothing more than to protest, but he reached down and pulled his chair back up, and collapsed into it, his head in his hands. Harry turned away from the man, and looked at Dumbledore, who was nodding at him approvingly,
"I'm still not happy with you, professor," Harry said, "I'm not agreeing to this because of you, I'm agreeing to this because I have a duty to my parents. To everyone who Voldemort has murdered."
Dumbledore just smiled sadly, "I understand, Harry. I have…failed you in every way. Truly, I cannot apologize enough for what I've done. I know, that my actions have caused you to suffer. I cannot do anything to take that back, but I can take lengths to ensure that no harm will come to you. I have only ever wanted the best for you, Harry." The words were genuine, Harry could tell by the look in the man's eyes, that every word of what the man was saying was true. But that didn't change the fact that the man had made decisions for Harry when he had no right to; that his actions had hurt Harry in ways that he was only just beginning to fix.
"Now, as pleased as I am that we are all agreement," Profess Jackson made a disgruntled sort of snort, but didn't look up, and Dumbledore ignored him, "I will say, Harry, that I have no wish for you to be in any danger, or for you to face any possible repercussions for the actions of others."
The irony of that statement was not lost on any of them,
"And we will be taking extra precautions when the Tournament begins. Your new teacher, Professor Moody, was once an accomplished auror, and I have no doubt that he will be able to find and stop anyone from unnecessarily entering you into the Tournament. I also believe, it would be best, for you to be out of the castle, the weekend of the selection. Just in case."
Professor Jackson looked up, then, but didn't say anything.
"Tell me, Harry, has Sirius yet taken you to Godric's Hollow?" Dumbledore asked, and a lump formed in Harry's throat. Godric's Hollow was where Harry's parents had been murdered. He shook his head, and Dumbledore nodded,
"I thought not. Given the history you have with Halloween, and the nature of the day, I believe that you should take that weekend, and go with Sirius. It would be…good for you. I believe." He said, with a small smile. A swell of gratitude swelled up in Harry. As upset as he was with the headmaster, Harry couldn't deny that the gesture and olive branch, went a long way to remedying how Harry was feeling.
Harry had spent several months over the summer, thinking about asking Sirius about taking him to visit his parent's former home. One of the stories in Madam Bones' book had mentioned his parents were buried there, and Harry desperately wanted to see their graves. But as excited as he was, he was also somewhat apprehensive, as much as he loved Sirius, and as happy as he was to have the man back in his life. Harry didn't want to go to the Hollow with just him. It was bound to be an overwhelmingly emotional day, and Harry didn't want the both of them wallowing in misery together. Turning in his seat, he looked at Professor Jackson.
"Um, professor?" He asked, not quite sure how to ask what he wanted, "Um, I was hoping…maybe you'd be willing to…come with me? To see my parents?"
Professor Jackson just stared at him for a moment, before a look of overwhelming emotion washed over his face, and he placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'd be honored, Harry."
"Wonderful," Dumbledore said with a light clap, before glancing at a small clock on the desk, "Now, it's very late. Perseus, why don't you take young Harry here back to his Common Room, and come back here. I'm sure you have more to say,"
"Couldn't have understated that more if you tried," Professor Jackson grumbled, getting to his seat, and leading Harry out of the office.
They descended the staircase in silence, but as soon as the gargoyle hopped back into place behind them, Professor Jackson spoke,
"Harry. I understand your desire to do your part, and I don't want you to think that I don't think you're capable of protecting yourself, but are you absolutely sure-"
"I know, professor," Harry said quickly, "I know that you don't think I can't look after myself, and you're just trying to look out for me, and I really appreciate that. But…well…it's just something I want to do. My mother gave her life for mine, my father fought Dark Wizards for a living. And-and I saw what you did at the World Cup," Professor Jackson winced, but Harry continued, "I saw what you did to protect people. I want to be like that. I want to protect people, to be like my parents, to be like you."
Professor Jackson's face softened, and his eyes looked moist for a minute, before he sighed, "I'm touched, Harry. Beyond words. But…but you don't want to be like me."
Harry stopped walking, and Professor Jackson halted beside him,
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, unable to believe that Professor Jackson would say that. "Why wouldn't I want to be like you? You're so strong, and capable, and you're such a good man! Of course I want to be like you, I want to fight to protect others!" Professor Jackson winced again, and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered his words.
"Harry, you don't want to be like me. I've-the things I've done. I don't-" He ran a hand through his hair, "Listen, believe me, I understand how you feel. Really I do, but-I was-" He growled in frustration,
"Ugh, gods I was always terrible at this." He muttered, and his shoulder slouched in defeat, "Gods I just wanted things to be different for you. I didn't want you to have to go through what I did, but I don't think there's any stopping things now,"
"Sir?" Harry asked, confused. Professor Jackson sighed, and squared his shoulders,
"Harry, you wanted to know why I left America?" He asked, and Harry nodded, "The truth is…when I was young…I was, erm, involved, in a pair of wars. I was little more than a child-soldier. A pawn, for…people like Dumbledore. At the time, I wanted to fight, not for them, but for the people I loved. And I don't regret doing what I had to in order to protect them. But the things that happened, the things I had to do, they continue to haunt me to this day. I guess I just wanted to keep you from having to experience that." He strode away, and leaned against a near wall, Harry frowned,
"I won't say I understand sir, because I don't think I can. But…but this is something I have to do. You said it last year, people are going to be after me all my life, and if Voldemort is rising again, then he's going to be after me again. I'm going to have to fight sir,"
Professor Jackson just nodded, and averted his eyes,
"There's a war coming, Harry, I can feel it. Your vision, the Death Eaters, everything is pointing to something coming, something bad. And you're going to be in the middle of it," He shook his head, "I'm not going to try and dissuade you, I know it won't work. I guess-I guess just wish you didn't have to experience it. Didn't have to fight." His fists clenched tightly, "Doesn't matter where or when I am, things are always the same," He snarled. Then he looked up, his face fierce, "I'm not saying all of this in order to scare you, Harry. But so that you understand what's going to happen. Blood will be shed, and you'll need to be prepared."
"I will be sir, I've been making good progress with my defense books! I'm already through the fifth-year stuff!" Harry said,
"That won't be good enough, Harry. Not nearly good enough," Professor Jackson said with a shake of his head. He then glanced up and down the corridor, before turning back to Harry.
"I think it's time I took a more…active role. In your education."
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and hope you're excited for what's to come! As always, shoutout to Double0Sxvxn for being an awesome Beta and dealing with my bullshit and as always if you enjoyed this but haven't checked out my other work, give them a try you never know you might find something else you like. I'm also on discord now, where I and a bunch of other writers hang out, chat and brainstorm ideas, you just have to copy the link that's in my profile bio if you want to come and hang out with us. Stay safe, stay healthy and have an awesome week
All My Love,
LilDB