AN:
Hi All,
I said I would start posting again in the beginning of August, so here's the first chapter. The reason I'm publishing a chapter for this story first is because it was the freshest in my mind and my muse just took the wheel when I started writing. Was able to get a respectable 6800 words down, so I'm happy to be starting up again. For those of you who follow Phoenix From the Ashes, the next chapter will be up later this week, as I still need to reread and polish it before publishing.
Slowly getting back into the swing of things now that I'm in a better mental state. Will try to keep a regular-ish posting schedule. Once, or maybe twice a month for either story. Don't want to overwhelm myself by adopting a strict schedule and failing to meet expectations. Lot of things going on IRL and I might have less time to write due to increased responsibilities at work. I know a lot of you are excited to read new chapters of your favorite fanfics, just like I am, so to not disappoint, I'm not going to make any hard promises. Hopefully this chapter meets your expectations and gets you excited for what's coming down the pipeline.
Hope you all have a great week and stay safe out there.
- AltruousAlliterator
Albus Dumbledore was confused.
It wasn't a situation that occurred very often, but when it did, it was always so exciting for him. It firstly kept him humble, informing him that despite his man years of experience, he would never truly understand magic. Secondly, as a lifelong scholar, the idea that there was always something new and interesting to learn was something cemented into his worldview. Sadly, his current situation only left him frustrated and anxious.
He had been startled awake by loud calls and frantic knocking on his door. That was never a good sign.
Minerva had burst in with Severus and notified him that multiple students had been afflicted with some sort of curse. Using a Switching spell to instantly get his robes on, he had rushed to the Infirmary.
Upon his arrival, he noticed something peculiar.
The boys who had been affected by the curse just so happened to be the main perpetrators of the targeted bullying campaign against Harry Potter. Stifling his growing unease, he got to work, casting several standard and obscure detection and diagnostic spells. Magic, regardless of how subtle it was, always left a trace. Whatever was causing the boys pain was no different.
His spells all came back negative, meaning that whatever was happening to them wasn't caused by dark magic. His next course of action was activating his Mage-Sight and trying to analyze the behavior of whatever spell was at work. That was what lead to his current conundrum.
'Why is it grey?' was the foremost question on his mind as he saw a ring of light grey fog surrounding the heads of each boy.
After more than a century of practicing and learning, he had experience in nearly all types of dark magic, but this was something else altogether. From what little he could tell, the spell itself wasn't inherently dark, or even malicious in nature. That little fact was what brought him up short.
The painful whimpers and occasional agonized screams did little to help him focus. They grated on his ears as he desperately sought to figure out what was happening. Regardless of his personal feelings on these young boy's actions, no child deserved to be in such pain. Furthermore, as their Headmaster, their welfare was his responsibility.
One he was currently failing them in.
He felt the tell-tale headache of Mage-Sight overuse start to build. Reluctantly deactivating the Sight, he closed his eyes to give them a break and recover.
"Poppy. Since how long have they been like this?"
Poppy Pomphrey, Hogwarts' Matron and a highly accomplished and experienced Healer, gave a tired sigh.
"I couldn't tell you, Albus. Each one of them visited me for Headache, Wide-Eye, and Dreamless Sleep potions over the last couple of weeks. Mr. Flint in particular came several times for Dreamless Sleep within the last few days, leading up to tonight.
From what I can assume, they've been suffering from whatever this curse is for some time now, but they neglected to immediately seek help, thinking it would get better. Obviously, it didn't, and now I'm unsure what exactly I can do about it. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before."
Albus nodded. "I can tell whatever spell caused this was neither dark nor malicious in nature. It appears to be centered around their minds, so possibly a curse involving nightmares? Or some form of extended, long-range Legilimency attack perhaps?"
Severus Snape piped up. "Is that even possible, Albus? Apart from the Dark Lord, you and I are the best Legilimens in Britain, and as far as I know, there is no such spell that works like that."
Albus sighed. "We may be the preeminent masters of the field in this country Severus, but never underestimate the progress that has been made in others. I know for certain that the Magical Empire of China's Department of Mysteries has been making many strides in the field of mind magic alongside their counterparts in the Soviet Federation. Although their motives and goals leave much to be desired."
"Still, even if they have made any significant advances, would either take the risk to attack the Heirs of multiple prominent British families? If they're caught, the ICW's censure would hurt their respective communities badly. Both the Chinese and the Soviets rely heavily on imports for potions ingredients. Their fighting forces and medical infrastructure would not be able to tolerate the pressure the ICW would put on them."
Albus shook his head. "In my capacity as Supreme Mugwump, neither would dare to target Hogwarts students. They know I would come down extremely hard on them. There is a reason, Severus, why Hogwarts alumni are treated so well in any foreign communities they venture to."
McGonagall interjected. "Okay. If we're saying it's not dark magic, or foreign intervention, then what is it?"
"That is something I have yet to decipher. Minerva."
There was something vaguely familiar about the circumstances these boys were in. In his distant memory, he knew that there was a point when he learned of magic similar to what he was witnessing. If only he could remember.
'That's it!' Like a bulb, a thought lit up his mind. He had a Pensieve in his office.
"I believe I may have found a lead. I need to go back to my office and use my Pensieve. Poppy, try and see if you can dull their pain while I'm searching for an answer."
Poppy briskly flicked her wand towards the potion cabinet at the far end of the room, summoning several bottles of Pain-Relief potion. "I'll do the best I can Albus, but there is a limit to what Pain-Relievers can do for mind-magic based curses."
"Would you like some help, Albus?" Snape inquired.
"No, but you can try and gather some information among the Slytherin students. See if you can get a lead on who might have cursed these boys. I do have my suspicions, but I sincerely hope I am mistaken. See what you can get, and we can meet later to compare notes."
Snape nodded and swiftly strode out of the Infirmary with his cape billowing behind him.
Albus walked towards his office as quickly as his old bones would allow. It was at times like these that he truly felt his age. It was honestly quite inconvenient.
With a wave of his hand, the gargoyle that guarded the staircase leapt out of the way. Alighting the spiral staircase, he gave a slight push as he neared the end, and the door to his office opened. Making his way to the hidden alcove that contained his Pensieve, he tapped his wand on a certain book ensconced within a tall floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
A light click resounded as the bookshelf twisted around, revealing a large bowl with a mesmerizing sky-blue liquid containing numerous silver strands. Each strand indicated a memory that he had copied directly from his mind.
Dipping his wand into the liquid, he gave it a small twirl, gathering all the strands onto the tip. Lifting it out of the bowl, a large collection of gossamer strands hung from the end of his wand, reminiscent of angel hair pasta.
A careless wave, and they all disappeared into thin air, as if never existing in the first place. While usually, he would dispose of his memories in a much more secure manner, he simply didn't have the time, as every second counted.
In his youth, he could have instantly delved into his mind and located the exact memory without any delay. Sadly, those days were far behind him, and he could only resort to using tools such as this to aid him in remembering.
He focused as hard as he could, drawing upon a time when he was working with the two most brilliant people he had ever known. Both custodians of knowledge thought long lost to the ravages of time. His years apprenticing under the Immortal Alchemist Nicholas Flamel and his various interactions with the man's wife, Perenelle.
While his main focus at the time had been Alchemy, Perenelle had been a font of knowledge for all sorts of obscure fields that tied into the alchemical process. After all, in his own words, Nicholas proclaimed that without his wife's help, the creation of the Philosopher's Stone would have never been possible.
Once he was prepared, he slowly started drawing the memories out. Instead of a thin strand, it came out as a thick, rope like structure. The thickness represented how many different strands, or memories, made up this part of his life.
Dipping it into the bowl, he gave it a light swirl before bending over and submerging his face. He felt a short jerk before he saw his surroundings start to take on the image of the quaint cottage in France that the couple inhabited. Albus closed his eyes and let his magic slowly rise up and subconsciously guide the proceeding.
He had come to learn as the years went on, that there were many things that magic could help with when it came to subconscious usage. He had first experienced the phenomenon when he had forgotten to leave a bookmark in a book he had been reading at the time. After a bit of frustration, he had just closed his eyes and riffled through the pages, hoping to find the one he had stopped at.
As if by instinct, he had received a small nudge in the back of his mind to stop turning the pages. Looking down at the randomly selected page, he saw that it was the exact one he had left earlier in the day. From then on, he had repeated the experiment multiple times and concluded that the subconscious power and suggestions of magic were almost always correct, but only usable in some cases.
So, he attempted to utilize the same principle to quickly navigate to the exact memory he desperately needed to locate. The one that would help him help his students that were in pain. He stayed silent as he let his magic take control of the forwarding as the memories from the start of his apprenticeship with Nicholas took place around his still form.
He didn't know how long he had silently stood in place, but he felt the telltale tingle in the back of his mind. Opening his eyes, he observed the surroundings. The fire was lit, meaning that it was winter time when this memory took place. He saw himself and Nicholas bent over a table, carefully observing a drop of liquid make its way through a swirling glass tube towards a flask filled with a dark crimson liquid.
"Once the filtration is complete, we can test your theory on whether it can be used as a natural potency increaser for healing potions." Nicholas' voice echoed in the quiet laboratory.
"It should work, Nick. I've run the numbers and it's arithmantically stable, at least for Skele-Gro and Blood-Replenisher. It's a toss of the galleon on whether it would improve the Pain-Relief though. Depending on the concentration and temperature, we might be able to make it work. If not, it wouldn't matter, as increasing the potency of just two potions alone would be enough to list it as a use.
Nicholas chuckled. "That's true, Albus. Still, the more we can discover now, the more it might inspire others to work to incorporate dragon's blood in other potions. We're on the cusp of something great. I can feel it in my bones."
"Nicholas! Albus! Lunch is ready!" A melodious voice came from upstairs.
"Coming Penny!" Nicholas answered as he stood back up and started making his way towards the stairway.
"Come Albus. Don't want to keep her waiting. Not after the last time."
They both shivered in remembrance. Penny had not been amused that her cooking had gone to waste because they felt themselves too busy to eat. What followed was a week of bland, boiled chicken and rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Having been accustomed to the luxurious and exquisite cooking of Perenelle for years on end, it was a real shock to his tastebuds, and something both him and Nicholas suffered through.
Never did they miss another call for mealtime again.
As they entered the cozy dining room, they saw all the materials for a place setting float out of a nearby shelf and arrange themselves on the table. Sitting down at their designated spots, they waited for Perenelle to bring the food.
They didn't have to wait long, as Perenelle came from the kitchen holding a pot that was emanating a tantalizing smell. Albus felt the eagerness his younger self as he watched the pot being set down in the center of the table.
Without further ado, they started serving themselves as Perenelle settled in next to them.
"How is the research coming along boys?" she asked once they had all served themselves.
"It's going extremely well Penny. We've been aiming to list at least 10, but Albus has come up with some brilliant theories that need to be tested. I believe that we will have a breakthrough come tomorrow or the day after." Nicholas informed her in between mouthfuls of stew.
"That's wonderful to hear Nicky. What other theories do you have regarding dragon's blood, Albus?"
Swallowing a spoonful of the delicious stew, he replied. "Well, I had a theory that maybe using it to write runes would somehow increase or imbue them with the ability to last longer and absorb magic more efficiently. Though one concern would be the ability of the parchment or vellum to withstand the acidity."
Perenelle hummed thoughtfully. "One thing I can say is that runes definitely feel more powerful when dragon's blood is used to augment them. Especially for enhancement rituals. That might be something you could test for your paper."
Albus looked at her wide-eyed in disbelief. "Perenelle while I nonetheless appreciate your input, I wouldn't dare dabble in such dark magic."
He saw Nicholas' eyes widen as he choked and started thumping his chest.
Looking at him curiously, he saw his mentor shaking his head furiously.
A foreboding aura filled the quiet dining room. "Dark Magic, you say?"
Her words silenced whatever he was about to say next. Never before had he seen the expression of anger on Perenelle's face. The woman was the closest thing to a saint he knew, with her nearly unlimited patience. After all, 700 years of life tended to teach patience to even the most stubborn of people.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" she started.
Albus gulped. His full name meant he was about to get a dressing down for the ages. He put up as strong a front as he could manage, but the light trembling of his spoon betrayed his inner feelings.
"If you ever, and I mean ever, say that ritual magic is dark magic, I will bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson you'll be feeling well into your hundreds."
Any fight or objection he had died in his throat at the blatant threat. This was the first time he had ever seen her this angry. After living for 40 years, one would think that such threats wouldn't affect him as much. The problem was that he knew for certain that if he didn't acquiesce, she would absolutely follow through on it. As a pseudo-immortal, everyone was basically a child to her.
He spoke his next words carefully. "I sincerely apologize for any offense I might have caused. It was not my intention. Could you please inform me of my mistake?"
Perenelle's anger deflated almost instantly as if the polite and patient part of her suddenly seized control. "I also apologize for snapping Albus, but I meant every word. In regards to your question, let me tell you a bit of history that most in Britain wouldn't even remember."
Albus settled in for her explanation, giving her his undivided attention. As this was happening, the older Albus viewing the memory leaned forward as well. His magic had hinted that it was this interaction where the answer to his question could be found.
"Ritual magic is by far, the most mysterious field of magic in existence. Some of the greatest and most terrible acts ever perpetrated by magicals have all stemmed from this one field alone. It is a universal type of magic, extending into every single branch you could think of. In fact, before the age of magical foci, they were the only method in which magic could be harnessed.
Nowadays, wands are the most common foci, but it wasn't always such. During the founding of Hogwarts, records state that each of the Founders commissioned the goblin nation to create unique magical foci that could blend in with their non-magical counterparts.
A popular example that you would recognize, is Godric Gryffindor's sword. Goblin forged mithril enchanted with several complex runes that turned it into a devastating Artifact-level focus. Swords were quite common to carry around at the time, so it wouldn't look out of place for a man like Godric to be carrying one, even one so beautifully crafted and magical in nature."
The younger Albus looked confused. "You're saying that Gryffindor's sword, along with the other artifacts of the Founders were all unique personal foci? Where do rituals come into the picture then? It was goblin crafted and then enchanted."
Perenelle smiled. "Patience, Albus. To answer your first question, yes, they were all unique foci. However, at the same time, the Founders also had their own wands. I can give you a hint as to why. It's all about using the right tools for the job."
Albus hummed. "Right tools?" he muttered.
Perenelle patiently waited as she ate a few spoons of stew.
"Could it be possible they created foci that were useful in enhancing their abilities in their respective specialized fields of magic? It makes sense for at least three of them. Gryffindor's specialty in combat magic, Ravenclaw's specialty in mind magic, and Hufflepuff's specialty in potions, or possibly alchemy. Though, Slytherin was said to have a locket. What possible use could a locket be as a focus?"
Nicholas chuckled. "You hit the nail on the head, Albus. Those foci were instrumental in helping them go from some witches and wizards who found a school, to the near mythical figures they are treated as today. As for Slytherin's locket, what exactly do you know of the man?"
Albus blinked. "Not much, other than what the Sorting Hat mentioned in all of it's annual songs. He was a shrewd and cunning man who did not trust easily. Many say he was a cruel, Dark wizard. Though that may be because a lot of records of that time period are either lost or heavily tainted with the writer's bias. I must admit that a lot of the records do concur with each other that he was deep into Dark magic, though I doubt he was as cruel as they say, seeing as he started a school for children."
Perenelle nodded. "A succinct summary of the modern view on Salazar Slytherin. From our own records, I can say that they aren't too far off in their accusations. The man did dabble in all sorts of forbidden magic, but that was in a time period before it was regarded as forbidden. A time when magic was used in completely different ways and for different purposes.
You basically answered your own question, Albus. The other Founders' foci were obvious, whereas his was not. The man was renowned for his cunning and guile. Compared to a sword, a diadem, and a cup, what are the possible uses for a locket? What could his enemies possibly find out about it unless he told them himself?"
Albus blinked. Perenelle's explanation was simple, yet made so much sense. If nobody knows what your special focus can do, they would be at a disadvantage in a fight.
After collecting himself, he responded. "That doesn't answer the question of where rituals come in. You mentioned the Founders and their unique foci, but there was nothing in that lecture about rituals."
Perenelle chuckled. "Come now, Albus. Did you think that those foci were created with all that power? No, that was the result of rituals that augmented their properties. Godric Gryffindor's sword when it came from the goblins freshly forged, was only that. A sword. A beautiful, ornate work of art, but still just a sword. The same goes for the other Founders' artifacts.
Rituals are one of the most potent and truly limitless fields of magic. They are essentially a business transaction between an individual and magic itself. I like to think of them as the highest form of magic, as you have to bare your very soul when you conduct them. No one can ever lie, cheat, or steal from magic.
Every single thing you desire can yours. For a price.
It all depends on the individual and what price they are willing to pay. For example, Gryffindor's sword, being made of mithril had the property of absorbing and improving itself. That however, doesn't explain how he utilized it as a magical focus in battle during his prime.
While a novel idea, it was tried many times before and had failed spectacularly, even with a magical metal like mithril. Having no core, a magical sword would struggle to cast with the same potency as a wand. Yet Gryffindor managed to create a sword that worked as well as any wand. Any ideas on how that might have worked?"
Albus stroked his goatee, a habit he had picked up from experimenting and studying with Nicholas over the years. "I would assume that there was a ritual involved where he somehow combined his wand and his sword perhaps? Or maybe he asked magic to power the runes he inscribed on the sword?"
Nicholas gave his wife an indecipherable look before he spoke. "Albus. Know that we appreciate your curiosity, but there is something we must warn you about. Rituals, especially those used to create powerful artifacts like the foci of the Founders, can be seen as quite… brutal. We are willing to answer your questions, but you must realize that the answers you get might be unpleasant."
Albus leaned forward in his chair. "Brutal? Unpleasant? Previously it was just idle curiosity but now I need an answer."
Perenelle snorted. "You could view this exchange as ritual, Albus. You seek knowledge. We have the answers. Right now, the only price you are paying is time. Go forth, and you might not like the answers you receive. Your world views and perspective will never be the same. Are you willing to give up your veil of ignorance? Are you willing confront the cruelty and evil that exists in the world, both in times past and in the present?"
An older Albus sighed heavily. This was it. The moment that forever changed his views on Hogwarts, the Founders, and the legacy they left behind. The moment where the blinders were ripped off and he was confronted with the harsh realities of magic.
"Tell me." A younger Albus spoke in a firm and unyielding tone.
Nicholas cleared his throat. "The type of ritual Godric Gryffindor used was called a blood sacrifice. The Founders invested a lot into the building of Hogwarts. In its infancy, it didn't have the funds to sustain itself on student tuition alone, seeing as many students came from families that couldn't afford actual schooling.
To supplement the school's and his own income, Gryffindor became a mercenary. He hunted everything. From dangerous creatures, dark wizards, to even regular non-magical criminals. Every time he hunted them down, he used his blade to strike the final blow and let it bathe in the blood of his prey. He sacrificed the lives of hundreds, be they beast or human to get the final result he desired."
A sigh rang out.
The older Albus could feel the raging emotions of his younger counterpart. The man whose house he had proudly stood for had been a butcher. At the time, he couldn't understand what could possibly drive a man to commit such heinous deeds. The dangerous beasts he could understand, possibly even the Dark wizards or witches.
What he could not get over was the fact that he slayed common muggle criminals. How could a man as noble as the great Godric Gryffindor commit such a depravity against ones who could not even defend themselves. It reminded him of his father Percival, and his actions against the young muggle boys who hurt his sister. His father's crime of killing muggle children in revenge forever stained their family's reputation, especially his in particular.
It took many years to crawl out from underneath the shade that his father's crime cast on him. He had entered Hogwarts the son of a muggle slayer, but within a couple of years, he was the darling of every professor in the school. He was well-liked by his peers and they all eventually forgot about his family's shame. He worked hard to achieve all of it, and had made a promise to never become his father.
To find out that Gryffindor had engaged in the same crime his father had been convicted of and sent to Azkaban for was a startling revelation. He took in a deep breath and kept watching. It was odd that his magic brought him back to this memory.
After 70 years more experience, his understanding and perspective had undergone massive shifts, and he found that he handled the revelation much better this time around, not to mention he could somewhat even empathize with Gryffindor's actions. He too had been forced to kill several muggles in the intervening years during the Great Wizarding World War.
His younger self started hyperventilating. It was all too much for him at the time. His father's crime still haunted him at that age, and it was with a sad expression that Albus watched Nick and Perenelle comfort him. Nietzsche's words of "there are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth" could not have rang truer at that very moment.
As he exited the memory, he felt the aftereffects of their conversation. The feelings it brought to the forefront of his mind. It was one of the drawbacks of Pensieve usage. The phantom feelings would always linger for a while, even with heavy application of Occlumency to try and block them out.
'So, it was a ritual.' He thought as he started pacing his office.
The circumstances matched, and the unique way the magic was tormenting the boys all pointed to a specific kind of ritual that might affect the mind and trap them in nightmares. Certainly, it wasn't something he had learned, but he knew someone who might be able to help.
Reaching into a small bowl on the mantle of his fireplace, he cast a wandless Incendio to ignite the wood before tossing Floo Powder into the small flame. The fire billowed out and took on an eerie green color before settling back down. After waiting a couple of seconds, he called out his intended destination.
"Flamel Cottage. Aurum est potestas."
Along with the fireplace he intended to call, he gave the special passphrase Nicholas had keyed to him before plunging his face into the flames. It was quite early in the morning in France, but he knew that Nick always woke up early in the morning. Morning was usually when he got the bulk of his experiments set up for the day. As was the case even 70 years ago during his apprenticeship.
"Albus?" he heard a voice call out as the sound of shuffling footsteps approached the fireplace.
"Ah, Nicholas. A very good morning to you!"
Nicholas Flamel was dressed in a luxurious blue robe made of Acromantula silk that glistened in the early morning light.
"Good morning to you as well. I must say this comes as a bit of a surprise. I'm pretty sure our monthly call was scheduled for next week, though my memory might be failing me in my old age."
Albus chuckled at the joke. They both knew that the Elixir of Life kept Nicholas and his wife in peak physical and mental form, slowing their aging down to a trickle. Even now the man could probably remember things with more precision and clarity he himself could hope to.
"You are indeed correct, as always. I was looking forward to our call next Sunday, but something has come up. I find myself slightly out of my depth and realized that only you could possibly help me."
Nicholas' eyebrow raised slightly. "Really? What in Merlin's name could possibly have the great Albus Dumbledore stumped? The young man I knew would be giddy at the prospect of the unknown and start experimenting to find out what it could be."
Albus snorted at that jab. "Please, Nicholas. We both know that you have more knowledge than I could ever have even after my lifetime of study. There is a unique magical situation affecting a few students at Hogwarts. While I would love to experiment and find out what it is, I would never do so at the cost of my students' suffering. They are in terrible pain, and I find myself unable to help them."
The doubt and shame in his voice must have carried through, as Nicholas' entire demeanor changed upon his solemn declaration. "Alright Albus. You have my attention. What is going on?"
Albus started explaining the situation, along with his observations and the recollection of his trip in the Pensieve. "I have come to the conclusion that it is definitely ritual magic at play. It's just that I do not know why it is targeting those students in particular, and what they are seeing. It was too risky to attempt Legilimency as I did not want to be affected by the magic as well."
Nicholas nodded. "Give me 10 minutes and I'll be right over."
Albus nodded and thanked him before cutting the call. He tapped his wand and enabled the connection from Flamel Cottage to Hogwarts. Settling himself in his chair, he closed his eyes and went into a meditative trance to deal with the myriad emotions he was feeling both from his current predicament and the ones from his trip down memory lane. It wouldn't do for him to be distracted, especially when dealing with such volatile magic.
10 minutes later, on the dot, the fireplace flared with green flames as the stout figure of his former Master Nicholas Flamel stepped out. Albus got up and went forward to shake his hand. "Nicholas, thank you very much for coming."
"Albus, how many times have I told you to call me Nick." The immortal alchemist waved him off.
"Very well Nick, let me take you to the Infirmary. The sooner you can diagnose the boys' conditions the better. Their parents have yet to be notified, and I don't think such a commotion would aid us in figuring out what is happening to them."
Nick nodded. "A wise decision. Let us go immediately."
Their pace was brisk and filled with purpose as they made their way to the Infirmary. The atmosphere was serious and they did not enjoy any casual conversation, choosing to get there as quickly as possible.
Nick was much like himself in that he did not like it when children suffered from magical diseases and curses. Part of his life had been dedicated to finding cures for a lot of magical diseases that affected young children and it was his pioneering work that led the way to several vaccines that had become the standard for all magical children to take shortly after they are born.
They entered the hospital wing and Albus heard Minerva and Poppy gasp as they recognized his mentor. He made his way there with Nicholas and introduced them. "Minerva, Poppy, I'd like you to meet the expert I have called in to help us. My former Master, Nicholas Flamel."
Both witches curtsied as they introduced themselves. Nicholas gave them a polite nod of the head. "It's nice to meet you both. I wish it were under better circumstances. Are these the boys?" He asked as he turned to face the four boys laid out next to each other on the beds.
Poppy spoke up, being the resident Healer. "Yes. Over the last couple of weeks, they each came in requesting Headache, Wide-Eye, and Dreamless Sleep potions. I provided them at my discretion, ensuring the dosages were mild enough so they did not get addicted. All four of them did not turn up to class for 3 days straight, so their Head of House was sent to check on them. He found them all collapsed in bed, suffering from what seems to be nightmares.
Their rooms were warded, so none of their other housemates had heard them. Once they were found in this condition, they were immediately transported to the Infirmary where I cast several diagnostic spells, even ones that I haven't used for decades. Unfortunately, none of them were able to tell me anything other than they were being affected by powerful mind-based magic."
Nicholas hummed along as he took in the boys' conditions. They were all uniformly suffering from the same curse from what he could observe. "Has there been any changes in their conditions?"
Poppy was about to answer when all of a sudden, one of the boys started screaming. He thrashed around for a bit before settling down once again, his breathing back to normal.
Nicholas blinked at the sudden shift and walked over while activating his Mage-Sight. He saw the dark grey cloud around the boy's head slowly turning light grey in color. "Fascinating. Albus did you notice the cloud the of magic around the boys' heads?"
"Yes, Nick. I did. That's why I ended up contacting you. I can't seem to make heads or tails of it. It's mind-based magic unlike anything I've ever seen before. On a hunch I traversed through one of my memories back when I was still apprenticing under you.
Perenelle gave me a lecture on ritual magic and its many mysteries. I think that what these boys are suffering from is a ritual curse. That grey cloud above their heads is not Dark in nature, but that doesn't negate from the harm it is causing them."
Nick observed for a few more seconds before nodding. "You made the correct choice in coming to me Albus, but unfortunately I am not well-versed enough in ritual magic to counteract whatever the caster did to them. I believe the only person that could help in this case would be Penny. It'll be a few hours until she wakes up, but I believe I can convince her to come help."
Albus sighed before nodding. He hoped that Nicholas would have been able to help him without involving Perenelle. The older witch had never been nearly as kind nor understanding as Nicholas, and it was not ideal that she was the only one they could turn to. Unlike Nicholas, Perenelle, while not totally heartless, wouldn't be bothered nearly as much by the plight of the boys.
Nicholas had explained that their virtual immortality and the ravages of time had affected them in very different ways. While he had become more whimsical and inquisitive, Perenelle had become colder and more logical. Not having to ever worry about death was something that spurred his risky behavior. She became the yin to his yang. The measured logic that tempered his recklessness to explore the limits of magic.
She had been very caring and patient during his apprenticeship, but according to Nicholas, that had changed soon after he left. While he had no doubt that Perenelle would afford him some kindness, he sincerely doubted it would extend to the boys laid up in the Infirmary.
Alas, they had no choice in the matter, so he would do his best to convince her alongside Nicholas. He would throw away his pride and beg on his knees if he had to. His students, in spite of their missteps, were children, who deserved no less.
Nicholas returned via the Floo in the Infirmary and Albus called Minerva to accompany him in his office. Once they were both there, he sat down and thought about what needed to be said.
"Minerva, please take a seat. We have much to discuss."
The older witch nodded and sat down. "That we do, Albus. You and Master Flamel mentioned ritual magic. Is that what is affecting those poor boys?"
Albus nodded. "That was my initial feeling, but Nicholas proved me correct in that regard. I am not well-versed in ritual magic, but Nicholas' wife Perenelle is the preeminent master of that field. If anyone can help them, it would be her. However, it remains to be seen if she will bother. She can be quite… cold."
Minerva McGonagall nodded at her former Master's declaration. She did not know too much about Perenelle Flamel, but even she could see how living for more than 700 years could strip a person of their empathy towards the suffering of others.
Albus continued. "Alas, we must forge ahead, regardless whether we can secure her help or not. We have been able to keep this quiet for the time being, but I have no doubt that the rumor mill will start spinning full speed once the students wake up. I do not know if Nicholas will be able to bring Perenelle before then, so we must be prepared to do some damage control."
Minerva spoke up. "I will start writing letters to the parents and invite them over to discuss their children's conditions. Is there anything you want me say in particular?"
"Yes. Do not mention anything about the curse being a product of ritual magic, nor that we are attempting to recruit Perenelle Flamel to help us cure them. I do not want any expectations to be placed on her should she volunteer to help us.
Be as vague as possible in your letters and we will have Poppy explain their conditions. If they try to move the boys to St. Mungo's we will have to acquiesce to their wishes, however, you can mention that I am personally working to help them. If that doesn't stop them, then the boys will no longer be under our jurisdiction."
Minerva nodded, agreeing to all the points. Seeing as all four boys were Heirs to prominent Conservative families in the Wizengamot, the political ramifications of this incident would be disastrous. With 3 of them being only children, 3 families would have effectively lost their Heirs. With how complex and mysterious the curse seemed, who knew whether they would ever wake up?
Recognizing his dismissal, Minerva got up and walked out of the office. Albus sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The situation was slowly getting worse as time went on. He had a feeling that Harry Potter was behind this, but such a thing seemed preposterous when he thought about it.
There was no way the boy would know anything about ritual magic. He was also magically weak and could barely levitate a feather as evidenced by the remarks of nearly all his staff. It was simply beyond his capabilities to cast such a sophisticated ritual curse on his tormentors.
And yet… he couldn't get the boys interaction at breakfast with them out of his head. The charming, bright smile in the face of scorn, the sinister glare when they walked away. They all spoke of someone with a great deal to hide.
A true Slytherin perhaps. One who baited his enemies into a trap before striking with vicious and deadly precision. If the boy was indeed behind it, he might just have to take more active measures to ensure that his school life improved, regardless of how many toes he might step on in the process.
If the ritual he conducted to curse his housemates was anything to go by, young Harry Potter was extremely talented in the obscure field of ritual magic. Given time, he could leverage that skill to become far stronger than both himself and Voldemort. Albus sincerely doubted he would still be alive to stop him should he decide to take vengeance on those he perceived as his enemies.
Maybe a meeting with James and Lily was necessary. All the members of the Order, himself included, sacrificed much to ensure that peace persisted after Voldemort's demise in 1981. He has made many mistakes throughout his life, but Harry James Potter becoming the next Dark Lord would not be one of them.
'Never again.' He promised himself as he started writing a letter to the Potter couple.