Autor's Note:

This chapter has become a bit disturbing. Those who are uncomfortable with animal cruelty are hereby warned. You have been admonished.

Horrors and Foes

The next five days of classes after the weekend that had followed his first lesson were relatively uneventful. He had continued to elaborate on his assessments of the usefulness of shield spells and lectured on the practicality of different offensive spells. Of course, he would not allow his students to use offensive curses before they were able to use a decent shield spell. If he had dummies for his students to practise on, that would be less of a problem, but the classroom didn't have those any more than those in which he himself had learned such magic had. Of course, he could have simply transfigured some, or even conjured them, but he didn't think much of that. Fixing the stupid things over and over again was too much work for him in the long run. He would have to construct and enchant them.

And that brought him back to his current position outside Riddle's office, who had apparently now finally found time for his request to provide certain resources. The refuge had a rather sensible and, as Harry found, sophisticated postal system, characterised by the fact that each designated room had a recipient and sender platform. When a message was placed on the latter, it disappeared to a place where House Elves sorted the letters and forwarded them to the recipient.

In any case, it made much more sense than the method used by his Ministry of Magic, which had still used owls in public correspondence not too long before he was born. It was more like a Floo Network for letters without the need for fire. His world had never tried such a thing, to his knowledge. And as much as he appreciated owls, it was a rather slow way to send letters - notwithstanding that post owls were magical creatures and could well move at an unnaturally great speed. Of course, Harry didn't know if such a system could be extended to an entire country, but since it worked for the Floo Network, he didn't see why it wouldn't.

Anyway, Riddle had told him to see him in his office on Friday after his class. He waited a full five minutes until he was invited in by Riddle after knocking. Harry still found it strange to see Tom Riddle as an elderly gentleman in posh but very obvious Muggle attire. He sat behind his desk casually leaning back. Harry opened the conversation without hesitation as he sat down, "Do you plan to accept my request for an adjustment to the wards in the offensive magic classroom and my request for materials to construct several practice dummies, or will I have to look for alternative solutions?"

"You really have to learn to hold conversations in a more pleasant manner. This kind of brusqueness may be refreshing, but not everyone will see it the way I do," Riddle replied, shaking his head, but then came straight to Harry's request. "Since it wouldn't be particularly wise for you to be haunting the magical world, I understand why you would want to obtain resources through other means. What non-magical materials you need, just get them in the muggle world and simply ask the House Elves for the rest. As long as it's nothing complicated, they should be able to get it for you. Dragon blood, Crushed unicorn hair, or maybe fairy dust? As long as it's nothing more exotic, they'll be able to find it."

Harry was a little surprised at the willingness to provide such things: "And the costs don't interest you? It's all still not exactly cheap. I had prepared myself for discussion about the necessity of the changes I wanted to make. I had expected that your organisation was not precisely overfunded."

"We aren't. But your wishes are - as I see it - one-time posts that could actually improve the learning environment in the long term. Sure we could save money if I gave you the order to just arrange everything as it is now and let the children always take turns to practice and if objects are used as targets, just fix them magically. But I know from my own experience how unnecessary and burdensome that feels.

"Your enthusiasm is a good sign. If even our petulant Mr. Whitmoore gushes about you, then you must be doing something right," Mr. Riddle explained with a benevolent smile. But then his expression turned serious and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk as he continued, "However, as much as I welcome your great involvement in our little refuge, there is something else I would like to talk to you about. I have a need for your particular talents."

"I'm pretty sure I've made my position clear. I will teach, but part of your community I am not," Harry replied suspiciously.

Riddle made a placating gesture and said, "I won't force you, of course. But without you, this excursion will not be able to take place. And that would be a shame."

"What is this about, Riddle? And why should I overcome my unwillingness to support you in your questionable actionism? I have said it before: this is not my world. And even if it were to become so, it is not yet."

Riddle met this with a broad grin that still looked very out of place on that face for Harry, and replied, "And yet there are principles, for you and for me too, that must never be violated. Regardless of where these happen, it is the duty of a good heart to take action against the breaking of these rules, if our aptitude allows it. Let me explain to you what our dear Chief Warlock Dumbledore has been perpetrating for decades."

At the mention of this name, the intensity of Riddle's gaze increased greatly once more. Harry already had a very bad feeling at this point. Whatever it was that Riddle wanted from him, it was probably not something he could simply brush aside. With vigour, Riddle continued, "The unofficial leader of our messed up nation runs a massive facility that is officially some sort of preserve for endangered magical beings. If you were to believe the propaganda, it's all about restoring the natural distribution of these species in the near future - subservient to the sublime wizarding world, of course. The reality of Dumbledore's Menagerie, as it is so guilelessly called by the populace, is unfortunately quite different.

"I have my knowledge from an informant who worked there and who has understandably grown weary of the activity. The facility is more comparable to a Muggle industrial complex. One of the reasons why your request for materials does not cost us so much is the fact that many goods, especially the body parts of magical creatures are very cheapened by production in the Menagerie.

"The creatures are trapped there. And we're not just talking about lower beings that have just about some kind of intellect, such as fairies, but also centraurs, unicorns, goblins and even giants, at least back then. No one prepares them to find a place in our world again. They are used like mines and the most brutal exploitation is carried out on them.

"When I was young, there were no wands with muscle fibres from centaurs or goblin fingers. Today they are not so rare. My goal, Mr James, is on the one hand to document the abuses and to show them to the public. I am sure that one or two people who are not yet completely convinced of the corruption within the Ministry will then join our side. On the other hand, of course, I want to help the beings.

"I have prepared portkeys with which we can take them to safe places. You can't get in with a portkey, or portal, of course, but I suspect it wouldn't be very practical for Dumbledore's industry not to send the goods directly to their distributors. My informant has at least clearly confirmed that outgoing portkeys are not blocked. I have additionally adjusted these a little further. I am confident that they will still work even if a conventional ward is quickly put on. To block my portkeys, you need something much more sophisticated."

With a raised left eyebrow, Harry asked, "And what do you need my help for? Is this about Apperation? Even I can't appear in places I don't know."

"It might make it easier to get in. But you're right, that's not why I'm asking you. It is the guardians of the place who distress me. I had the whole idea for this venture only after seeing your so fascinating Patronus Charm. It is through it that the enterprise becomes possible in the first place."

"Dementors?" asked Harry tonelessly.

Riddle nodded with a grimace on his face and said, "I can claim to be an able wizard without false modesty. But Dementors were a difficult obstacle for me to overcome until your appearance in my refuge. To cross the boundaries of the Menagerie is almost impossible, as the Dementors are housed in a wide zone between the inner and outer rings of fortifications. Only a small main path is physically separated from the intermediate space during working hours. At night, this barrier disappears and the Dementors move across the entire site.

"No one ventures in there at night and as far as I understand Dementors, they will not take orders at this allotted time. For us, this is perfect. We can fight them off and move freely. I have learned this spell in rudiments and even though I cannot create a corporeal form, I am confident that the white mist will protect my mental strength enough to use other more dangerous curses.

"You, Mr. James, I need above all to attract the attention of the Dementors and bring us in. These creatures know no predator beside themselves. Their pact with Dumbledore and the Ministry is based on their interests and is, in a sense, mutually profitable for both sides. But a creature that challenges them is not something they can accept. They will follow you, I can guarantee it. I will cloak myself in invisibility and take on the main task of our venture. With an adversary like you, they probably won't even notice me. I'd still give you some portkeys, of course, in case you manage to shake them off long enough."

"I have a little problem with this whole thing," Harry replied sceptically: "It doesn't fit my image of Tom Riddle that he would be willing to follow a half-baked plan that is less than a week old. I know from my own painful experience that it is not wise to infiltrate secret government organisations without having carefully worked out such a plan after long observation. Everything we know stands on the thin foundation of one man's claims. Riddle, we live here in a world where the government is not afraid to manipulate memories. How do we know that this information is not a long-term trap?"

Riddle laughed at this and explained to Harry, who was now looking at him in irritation, "The capabilities of our Ministry are nowhere near as glorious as they would have the world believe. I have carefully examined the mind of this man and also the minds of his associates, whose names he gave me after influencing him long enough. The methods of the ministry leave traces. A bungler may not see them, but I have a natural disposition in mental magic and thus have a very sensitive perceptiveness to these things. It is not very wise to underestimate my talents.

And besides, this is not a plan for which much more information can be gained. It has been festering in my mind for years, proliferating and thriving. Rest assured that I do nothing without first hedging my bets many, many times. Of course there is risk, but shouldn't you, as an alumnus of Gryffindor House, embrace risk more willingly than I?"

His last sentence was adorned with hints of derision. Harry looked at him with a very displeased expression on his face. Sadly, his own conscience told him that he had to help Riddle, if the information was true. But how was he to know? In a strained voice, eyes closed for a moment, Harry demanded, "Describe these risks to me, as you see them. If I deem them too high, I will not accompany you."

"I don't blame you for your doubts. Of course, the Dementors are the main problem and how long they can be held back. They sometimes have a habit of overcoming a threat by mass and condoning greater harm to some of their group in order to ensure the destruction of the threat. I experimented with your spell on a smaller colony of Dementors. Don't look at me like that, of course I have had to verify your claims," Riddle interrupted his flow of speech briefly as Harry had looked at him very sceptically. "The creatures have been avoiding the areas my mist has been in for quite some time. An hour almost."

"That's a remarkably long time. Perhaps it's because they don't know what it is."

"Precisely my line of thought. But the beasts learn quickly. After three attempts already, they lingered in the immediate area, just outside the spells sphere of influence, until the mist dissipated. They then almost defiantly occupied the space. And they realised it was my magic that was tormenting them. I then quickly moved away. What we see from this is that you should be able to keep the Dementors spooked longer by your perfected magic, and it shouldn't take us that long to accomplish our purpose."

"Could we set off some kind of alarm?" asked Harry leery.

"Even if there were such, and we tripped them, no one would enter the Menagerie as long as the Dementors are buzzing around blithely," Riddle declared confidently. "Dumbledore might, or perhaps one of his higher henchmen with whom the Dementors have made the pact. And yet the creatures are treacherous, they will not necessarily keep their word when such a delicious soul so willingly enters their midst. Dumbledore probably wouldn't risk it. He has no reason to doubt the effectiveness of the Dementors. They are considered insurmountable for good reason.

"So why would he even install a system to monitor an undisturbed intrusion, or anything comparable? Even if such an event should occur, he would probably expect a thief who wants to enrich himself and, in folly, underestimates the Dementors, who will then do the dirty work of removing the intruder for him. All risk to you is a possible deficiency in their skills. And such I do not expect."

Harry sighed. He found no further excuses to withhold his acceptance. Naturally, it had not escaped his notice that Riddle did not give him time to think further about the plan, and that alone kept him suspicious. He remembered all too well the stories about old Tom Riddle, who with his silver tongue and charm had dragged quite a few other people down into the dark vortex that was his conviction.

After some hesitation and deliberation, Harry declared, "Very well, you get your way today, Riddle. But if you want my help in the future, I expect some advance notice. I need time to think about schemes like this. This hasty approach displeases me greatly. If you try to recruit me again at such short notice for such a problematic action, I will refuse, no matter how much my heart may bleed."

Harry could see a flare of discontent on Riddle's face for a tiny moment, but it was quickly masked by a smile that Harry would normally have thought was genuine. The man explained, "Of course. It is a reasonable expectation on your part. Unfortunately, it is not always possible to let others in on the long process of forming plans of this nature, but I will take your sentiments into consideration."

With these words, Tom Riddle rose from his chair and he handed Harry a stack of parchment he had taken from a drawer earlier. He said to him: "We will leave at 11pm. Go through the information again. In particular, the site plan I have drawn up based on the memories of the people interviewed. Unfortunately, large areas of the compound are not in the security clearance of those who gave us this knowledge, so there are many blind spots in this facility. I will take the right wing and you will take the left, that way we should be able to achieve our goals faster. Prepare yourself as best you can. I will see you in your office just before we will leave."

With these words and a hand extended towards the door, Riddle told him to go and he left his office. As he strolled to his own, he nervously stroked his hair. He wasn't sure if trusting Riddle's plan was a wise idea. As much as the older man tried to appear different, they were the same devious person at the core, Harry was sure of it. Here, however, he saw Harry as an ally.

But Lord Voldemort had not treated his allies very carefully either, even if he had promised them the opposite. He had to wait and watch Riddle closely. Unfortunately, his plan did not allow for such things. Something about this matter felt wrong. Perhaps it was just his own bias against this man, whose reasoning was so flexible that he seemed to escape all objections. And besides, Harry was sure that Riddle had hinted in that conversation that he had mastered spells that could harm Dementors. He would bet half his arm that these were of dark origin.

"Are you ready, Mr James?" asked an almost enthusiastic-looking Riddle, who had just entered Harry's office. The information was considered more than meagre even in the most lenient judgement Harry could pass. More than two thirds of the complex were not described in detail on the parchment. As it was, Riddle would turn to the sentient creatures while Harry went to the section for what were certainly considered inferior entities by the masters of the Menagerie.

Harry nodded to the alternate form of his old nemesis. The latter moved his wand several times in a circular motion until, after a few moments, a sort of transition to a dark forest seemed to have appeared in the middle of his office. Riddle invited him to step through with a gesture and with another nod he stepped through, closely followed by Riddle. The portal instantly disappeared behind them.

They were on a hill that offered quite a good view of the complex. All in all, it seemed to him to occupy several times the area that was built on at Hogwarts. And it was an almost gothic-looking building, in which there seemed to be no windows to the outside. Surrounding it were two high walls and between them, as promised, were the dark creatures. As a child, they had quickly become his greatest fear.

And even though Lupin saw it as an absurd form of wisdom, it had sprung from the same reasons as any other fear one felt. Somewhere along the line they had lost their terror for him, though he never completely forgotten it. Since his ministry never renounced their use, he encountered them frequently enough and in a less threatening manner, so that his heart stopped racing when he saw them. Somewhere along the way, even his boggart had taken on the shape common to adults of deceased loved ones.

"We will go down and as soon as the creatures feel our presence, please call your marvelous guardian spirit to us. Then we will begin as agreed. Here, take this bag; there are several portkeys in it, you'd better take one to escape yourself in the end. And also take this," Riddle explained, handing him the bag and a small transparent crystal. "As soon as this glows red I'm gone. Then you should seek your salvation in flight as well. It also gets quite warm, so you should also notice it if you put it in a pocket of your robes."

"And how am I to document the anticipated atrocities?"

"Your memory will have to suffice," Riddle explained, "As it will in my case. We have after all an expert in Pensieves in the community, as you may know."

Then they walked in silence down the slope to the compound. Riddle further disillusioned himself. The wall actually simply had an opening without a gate, guarded by no ominous mood grew and grew until dreadful feelings and a familiar chill came over him. In a flash he whipped his wand forward and with the highest sentiment of joy he could muster, he thundered, "Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs followed his will and galloped silently ahead. The Dementors shrieked in unpleasantly high-pitched tones fled in panic from this incarnation of positive emotion so hostile to them. Riddle laughed gleefully and said, "This is even better than I could have imagined! I don't think we'll see them again so soon."

Of course, the Patronus fell far short of the one he had conjured up at the age of thirteen in higher enlightenment and purest joy over it. He might be an expert on the spell, but he had never been able to replicate that childlike, pure feeling and consequently the way it shaped itself. Harry wasn't sure he shared Riddle's optimism for that reason either, "And you're sure you can overpower a Dementor should one cross your path in there?"

"For a single one, I don't even need your wondrous spell, Mr James. You can fight darkness with itself," Riddle replied ominously. Finally they reached the entrance and parted ways. For his own safety, he sent a Patronus ahead, which turned out to be a good idea as he heard some startled sounds from the creatures in the distance. Despite the safety the Patronus offered him, he felt he was descending into hell itself.

As expected, he saw very little at first, until he came to something that he was unable to call an enclosure, even with the greatest indulgence. It was more like a rack containing a creature that Harry identified as a Kelpie. It was sprayed with water at regular intervals through nozzles on the side of the room, but seemed completely unaware of its surroundings. Many cannulas led under the skin and into the creature's body, some feeding something in, others drawing something out. Harry could guess the purpose of this bizarre apparatus, however, from the fact that next to the Kelpie stood an iron container containing vast amounts of the creature's hair.

He knew that Kelpie hair was used in many potions, so he assumed they were bred for that purpose. When he went a little further, he found that quite a few corpse-like Kelpies were bound to such devices in this way. The cruelty of living such a life, if one even wanted to call it that, weighed on his mind, he was suddenly not sure if he wanted to instruct the House Elves to get him materials for drawing his runes if they were created that way. He went on without releasing the creatures.

With all goodwill, it was not a very good idea to bring many Kelpies into one place. They were, after all, mostly cruel creatures. They did not deserve this life, but he could not bring himself to use the portkeys for them, despite a rather guilty conscience.

Although the next life form he saw was only doxys, that did not make the situation any better. These, in fact, twitched regularly as if they were suffering from pain. They were also mounted in small restrains and obviously the venom was being sucked out of their mouths, which was being fed into glass cylinders.

He shook his head. Not far from the unpleasant doxys were the first fairies. Their wings were moved mechanically so that the dust that collected on them and served in nature to confuse enemies trickled into containers below. Here he took heart for the first time and freed the creatures from their attachments.

They were obviously sedated, so fortunately he was not confronted with their behaviour. He took out one of Riddle's portkeys in the form of a flat, large pebble with "Western Shore" written on it and bound the fairies to it. Finally, he said this phrase after touching the portkey with his wand, and the fairies disappeared. He sighed heavily. This was going to be a gruelling situation. Also weighing on his mind was the fact that he had to decide which creatures to free and which not. Was it really fair to save only those creatures that seemed nice and harmless to him?

This was made worse when he did not recognise the next creature. The attachments seemed to be similar to those of the Kelpies, except that here teeth were pulled out instead of hair removed. They most closely resembled crocodiles, but they only seemed to have forelegs. It occurred to him that perhaps these were German lindworms, smaller, close relatives of the dragons. They could not breathe fire, but could imitate voices and sounds perfectly to lure victims into their caves. In his world they had long been extinct.

Shaking his head, he walked on. If he didn't save Kelpies, why these creatures? Going by appearances was probably not very fair. Possibly these were not Lindworms at all, but harmless, friendly creatures. As these worries plagued him, coldness came over him. Reflexively, he summoned a new Patronus. However, the emanation of his joy stopped not far from him.

The three Dementors in front of him did not get any further because a closed gate prevented them from escaping. He knew that his Patronus was too weak to destroy three Dementors. He might have succeeded with just one, but he would not dare with several. The creatures were already hissing warningly in his direction. Riddle had been right, they quickly learned where a threat was coming from. However, the closed protective door offered him a chance to escape the impending fight. He disapperated behind the barrier.

It was his good fortune to have judged the gate to be thick, otherwise he would probably have apperated into it. He felt the presence of the Dementors behind the barrier only faintly, although it turned frost white. Presumably it was the further distance that dulled the effect. He hurried forward and when he realised what was happening here he would have liked to throw up. The beings who were locked here in this large circular room were not asleep.

They were screaming relentlessly. Again, he wasn't sure what they were at first. They were ashen horse-like creatures that had a small horn but at the same time sickly leathery wings. At first he wanted to deny it, but this was probably some torture breeding from unicorn and thestral. For it was too obvious that the animals were suffering. Pipelines anchored in the creatures led to the centre of the room, from where blood was obviously pumped out into a kind of half-height column.

Perhaps this hybridisation was a way to make unicorn blood usable without bringing the curse upon the user? He fervently hoped that these creatures could live on their own, for he had no doubt that he would have to free them. Simple shock spells had no effect and led to even more terrible screams. With his face contorted at his discomfort in inflicting pain on these beings, he called out to the next creature to him, "Nidra Nirmala!"

The sleep spell was beginning to gain hold, but it was obvious that something was working against it. A diagnostic spell brought no result, so he decided without further ado to examine the column from which tubes also led to the creatures, containing an orange solution. Potions were not his area of expertise, but it stood to reason that those were responsible for the mixed creatures' wakefulness.

"Bombarda!" he rumbled towards the pillar and his curse, hurled in that direction, shattered it. After the dust had settled, the creatures emitted rather neighing sounds that still sounded tortured but were of lesser intensity. He hit each of the thirteen creatures with the powerful sleep spell he had tried before. It succeeded.

After removing the cannulas, he staunched the bleeding with the crude spells for this that he knew. With his magic he finally draped the horse-like creatures so that they all touched the portkey he had placed on the floor and used fastening spells to make sure they all stuck to the thing. He tapped the portkey with his wand and virtually commanded, "Sacred Grove!"

The beings disappeared. He really hoped that the code words of the portkeys were real places. Waking up in something that resembled a hallowed forest must have seemed like paradise for the tormented beings. The falseness of this cruel place, on the other hand, shook him to the core. He probably should have expected something like this when Riddle described the place to him.

Ultimately, it showed that those who ran this place were probably no longer capable of deeper empathy. Even if the creatures were not pure unicorns, their dull silvery blood showed that a kinship was obvious. And to torture a unicorn, no matter for what purpose, showed a coldness of feeling that could only have been triggered by the darkest magic. Even muggles with various mental illnesses that dampened their ability to feel emotions showed respect for unicorns when they were around. A relatively unknown magizoologist had actually tested the latter to see how far goodness radiated from these animals.

After collecting himself for a moment, he disappeared behind the nearest protective door. Immediately as he materialised again his mind was flooded with feelings and thoughts that were not his own and sent him crashing to the ground. Fear, despair, anger. All of these quivered through his unprepared mind with such intensity that his perception was completely taken over by them. Strangely, the feelings seemed somehow familiar. Like a voice he had once heard long ago and belonged to a certain person. Through clenched teeth he whispered, "Tego Mensim."

The invasion weakened, but even his mind shield could not completely repel it. A bird lay in front of him. It had lost many of its golden-red feathers and was virtually riveted to the ground in several places. Crackling and pulsating energy surrounded the bird like a glowing net. The one eye that could fix him stared at him darkly. Without understanding how he knew, he understood that this was the phoenix that had borne the name Fawkes in his world.

Directly under the poor creature's eyes, a kind of rotating knife swung, striking a wound again and again. Probably without having any control over it, tears flowed from the phoenix's eyes, which closed the cut again, but at the same time dripped down and ran from a kind of funnel into a container. Even though everything he had seen before already left him stunned, now he had lost all mildness. To even tie up a phoenix, or to have the arrogance to try, were unimaginable to him. And whatever happened here, it prevented the creature from leaving the room.

The Dumbledore of this world - and Harry was sure that this had to be his doing - had probably found a way to block the idiosyncratic transport of phoenixes. With deliberate movements of his wand, he produced a few different analysis spells, which revealed to him what the energy currents above the phoenix were. Strangely, they were not protected from his scrutiny. Probably their creator had been arrogant enough to assume that no one would ever get that close to them anyway.

Each of the two wards found in this way seemed to completely separate the space above from that below. He recognised the principle from his own spell Pertorquetur, which bent the room itself. To maintain this permanently and with such stringency was so energetically costly that Harry at first doubted how it could be possible. Then the images of the unicorn-like creatures leapt to his mind's eye and he understood what all that blood was needed for.

It was an extremely powerful reagent. He had never heard of using it in runic circles, for to incorporate a curse of this kind, which fought its own use, into a continuous warding system seemed utterly absurd and honestly insane. But if the curse was broken, application might be possible.

Meanwhile, the creature's emotions shifted to bitterness and suspicion. Moreover, a roaring began to lift in his head and his head began to ache. With a contorted face, he scolded Fawkes, "I want to help you out of here. I can't do that if you attack me."

The pressure behind his head disappeared, but the thoughts the bird projected were dominated by scepticism and resigned disbelief at his intentions. From what his spells showed him, the system was inconveniently robust in nature. If one of the spells was broken, the other would transport the phoenix back and restore the protective circle that had been destroyed. It was as ingenious as it was cruel.

But Dumbledore's design had a flaw, which lay in the supply of the half-unicorn blood. Since the shields themselves could not be penetrated by any magic, they had to be outside, should the runes need to be wetted again with the reagent. In addition, the tears and probably the feathers had to be able to be removed from the protected sphere somehow. If there was an off switch, though, Harry didn't see it. With wide movements of his wand, he analysed the rest of the room and found the signs of extensive enchantment behind one wall.

Unlike the unicorn creatures, he didn't dare use brute force to solve the problem here. At the affected spot, a panel came loose from the wall, revealing a slab of smooth stone engraved with several fine runes. Every second or so, the notches filled with the blood, as he had suspected. This evaporated and was replaced by more.

So Harry decided to beat Dumbledore here with his own weapons. He held out his wand and with great concentration he wove a ward around the plate that blocked summoning spells. It was a fairly conventional spell and Harry saw it with satisfaction that this simple sorcery could override Dumbledore's elaborate mechanism.

His plan worked. For a moment he was filled with a feeling of absolute bliss such as he himself had never felt before. The crackling lightning failed and at the same moment the phoenix disappeared in a ball of fire. Since the room offered him nothing more and he could finally think completely freely again, he disapperated behind the next gate, where a horrible rotting smell wafted towards him.

Here he did not see at first what was trapped here. The dimly lit room was huge and dominated by a pit. A steep staircase led down into it and it was surrounded by a narrow corridor. Opposite it was another safety door, but it could only be reached from the pit by going up the stairs on its side and along the corridors surrounding the pit. A sound wafted through the chamber that sounded to him like a mournful, stertorous breathing. As he hurried down the pit, he began to feel the warmth of the crystal Riddle had given him. But Harry at least wanted to see what was going on here.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured up a floating light that revealed to him what awaited him here. It was even more bizarre than anything he had seen in this world before. It was a dragon. Or rather, it had once been a dragon whose chest had been opened and whose greatly enlarged heart beat slowly while various metal loops and tubes ran through its body in such a variety of ways that its original shape could only be guessed at.

It was almost no longer a living being but a kind of horrible machine that pumped out blood, probably fed nutrients and seemed to keep removing strands of the heart that immediately grew back. This being, Harry was sure, could no longer be detached from this apparatus and thus saved. It was corrupted and destroyed, worse even than the phoenix. Seeing no other option but to end the suffering, he pointed his wand at the free-beating heart and began the intricate motions of a spell for which he rarely found use.

It was a medieval death curse that had never become popular because it moved very slowly and was fairly easy to block. However, it was never designed to destroy enemies, but to end suffering. He even needed this thought as the centre of his concentration to be able to cast it safely.

He was sure that the spell was pervertible, but for Harry's purposes it was sufficient, for the spell killed and that as painlessly as Avarda Kedavra did. And it did not tear the soul as far as Harry understood. It was still dark magic and would probably render him more favourably disposed towards the release of suffering. But that was a sacrifice he could make. With one last energetic forward wave of his wand, he spoke, "Conficio Miseriam semper!"

Even as the pale blue sphere floated through the room, he was seized by an oppressive feeling that could not be right. It reminded him of an Anti-Disapperation ward. His spell hit the battered heart, which abruptly stopped beating. The sound of breathing was suffocating. But then the gates from both sides ripped open and a host of Dementors entered the chamber.

As quickly as he could, he summoned a Patronus, which apparently prevented the creatures from entering the pit. He tried to disapperate, but could not. Panic filled him. Had Riddle lied? Did these people know forms of Apperation after all? He hurried to pull a portkey out of his pocket, but it was thrown away by a spell. A second one bathed it in hot white flames and turned it to ashes.

An unpleasantly familiar sounding laugh rang through the room. It belonged to Albus Dumbledore. He was standing opposite the stairs, leaning down towards him on a banister. As in Lily's memory, he seemed remarkably young for someone who was well over a hundred years old.

"You shouldn't have come here today, Mr Potter. I had not taken you for a thief coveting the rightful property of others. I saw in you a lost nobleman who, in his confusion, chose the wrong friends. Tell me, what brings you to my fine establishment today? Whatever those criminals promised you, you won't be able to get it now. A young man as fascinating and capable as you, on the other hand, may well still find his rightful place in our society."

Harry knew the man was only trying to unsettle him. In an assured voice he explained, "You are obviously very ill-informed, Dumbledore. My name is Harry James and nothing else."

"I rather think it is you who does not understand the situation. I have not been idle since her no visit to Diagon Alley. Many good citizens were only too willing to provide me with a memory of your wild escapade. It was clear to me from the first moment that it was a misunderstanding.

"You seemed so distraught as you rushed through our lovely streets. I made profound enquiries. At first, like the good Mr. Gamp, I thought them a secret bastard of James Potter. But after an exhaustive study of the mind of that regrettably rather disappointing wizard, I had to conclude that he is a very faithful husband.

"On closer inspection, you also appeared to me to be too old as well. Besides his son, he is the last of the Potters in magical Britain. But then I had a thought about forgotten branches of British families. In the past, many houses had tried to extend their influence to the colonies and the Potters were no exception. And although the renegade traitors no longer allow us access to the resources of these lands that are rightfully ours, we do have enough information about the magical population there.

"Branches of your family can be found in both America and India, and as Mr. Gamp has already exclaimed, you all too clearly share the traits of your ancestor. I suppose you have grown weary of the mudblood society there and have sought salvation in the true home of your true people. You are at least a half-blood.

"This gives you a limited but privileged status in our blessed nation. You can experience the wonders of the magical world in its glowing centre, rather than in the gloomy periphery that tries to bind you to itself with lies and slander. We, on the other hand, could benefit from your propensity to develop unusual magic. We do value progress.

"I give you a choice Mr. Potter, surrender to my guidance and become something greater than the lowly existence you have led thus far. Or, if you are foolish enough to reject my mercy, we will find a use for even a soulless body."

Inwardly, of course, Harry was aware that his situation was bleak. He felt great dread welling up within him. There was no way out. His Apperation cut off. He was surrounded by Dementors that even his Prongs, resting bravely beside him, could not overcome. But Harry had never been one to give up, merely because something seemed impossible.

And if he could give his opponent one last pinprick, he would go satisfaction: "Why should I want to serve someone like you? Be honest, none of your servile servants can hear you here. You don't have to tell me your bullshit fairy tale of your glorious nation. This whole complex here proves your total lack of morality and decency.

"Leadership without these skills is nothing but exploitation and despotism in the form of a state. You treat these living beings as if they were mere things. You plunder them, deprive them of a life befitting their species and violate them for your own benefit in a perverted manner that has disgusted me more than anything I have seen in my life so far. And I have already fought hordes of dark wizards and I recognise this kind of depravity that breeds here."

The old man tilted his head and with an almost sympathetic expression he replied, "Ah, I can see that you are a soul too soft for the harsh realities of our world. We simply need too many magical resources to grow them in a more inefficient manner, such as I'm sure you have in mind. You see, the few beings who have to suffer here make a better life possible for the others in freedom. It is unpleasant.

"But the suffering of the few is outweighed by the happiness of the majority. With the ingredients we produce here, magical medicine has entered a new era. The products of the phoenix alone, which you freed in your ignorance, has already saved thousands of lives. Had he been more cooperative, we would not have had to take such harsh measures. Progress, Mr Potter, will always have its costs. Sentimentality and turning a blind eye to the needs of a society never advanced anyone.

"You may call me malicious in your ignorance, but history will understand that I was a necessity, an inevitability," Dumbledore shook his head sadly and continued, "It would be unfortunate to see your talent wasted. Your experimental method of transportation is quite fascinating. I knew immediately, of course, that I had to find a way to stop it when I first saw it in the memory.

"You have probably already noticed that I succeeded. It was a good idea to monitor the distinctive magical traces of your teleportation technique in all my major facilities. And then you tripped my little trap when you first used your ability. I haven't yet found a way to embed them permanently and automatically into my ward systems, but that will be only a matter of time.

"You see, your path of ignorance and complacent moralism ends here. I can help you reinvent yourself. To shape yourself into a better person. You need not fear. But perhaps I should help your decision a little more along the way. This construct of positive feelings, impressive as it seems, is unfortunately something that must go. The Dementors are too useful and too sharp a sword to let such foolishness blunt it. Expecto Horrendum!"

A jellyfish-like creature of pure darkness and despair surged towards its patronus and devoured it without rest. Though the Dementors did not yet move, cold and mortal fear surged into his heart. Everything bad, all the cruel memories bubbled into his consciousness. He fell to his knees and closed his eyes. With a mirthless laugh, Dumbledore said, "You know what decision you have to make. Come now, you don't fancy loafing around here feeling weak, do you? It is a very simple choice. Join the true order and you will understand."

His defiance was still powerful in him, but his strength was fading. Then a sound arose. It was full of warmth, of righteousness and goodness. It was a song that echoed within him like the sun after a long winter. Harry let himself be filled with this unexpected grace. He barely felt the claws digging into his shoulder, nor the wings almost gently brushing the back of his head. With absolute conviction he cried out in a detached, almost rapturous way, suffused with pure hope, one more time, "Expecto Partonum!"

His eyes opened and instead of a pale glowing stag, a gigantic, blazing white bird flew towards the terror, dissipating it in seconds. Under Dumbledore's incredulous gaze, he summoned two more of these guardian spirits. They were transformed by the magic of the phoenix. Of that Harry was sure. This was not his own doing. Here two things had intertwined that were almost antithetical to Dementors and that had produced something new.

Fawkes was still chanting, but the sound was growing angrier. Without commanding them, two of the Patronuses raced towards the Dementors, driving them towards Dumbledore. Strange images of locked doors shifted in his mind and Harry understood what the bird was trying to tell him. With a double flick of his wand, both doors locked. All the while, some of the braver Dementors were being literally burned by their flying doom. And they seemed to lose none of their strength.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, quickly regained his composure and without further ado fired curses alternately at Harry and the glaring guardian spirits. Harry dodged or distorted the spells and returned fire. Although he was in a lower position, he had the better position as Dumbledore found himself surrounded by shrieking Dementors. Still, Harry failed to land even a single curse. The man had thrown objects into the air which he used to absorb Harry's spell.

When the man began to turn his wand on the dragon's corpse, Harry saw red and attacked the ground the man was standing on instead of Dumbedore himself. Giving a master of enchantment and the dark arts a dead dragon to work on was not something he wanted to risk. As Dumbledore's defences did not register this at first, three of Harry's blasting curses hit the high path and shattered the segment on which the old wizard had been standing. The latter stumbled down into the pit.

The guardian spirits drove the Dementors towards Dumbledore, who was now completely surrounded by the terrible creatures and at a certain distance by the Patronuses. The closer the guardian spirits surrounded the Dementors, the more panicked they became. Dumbledore did not even manage to stand up, so much were the Dementors tearing and pushing at him. And then he made the mistake of unleashing a flaring curse on his allies, apparently believing they would retreat. Instead, a Dementor pressed its mouth to Dumbledore's lips and seconds later the man fell lifeless to the ground.

Fawkes chirped in gleeful satisfaction as the guardian spirits destroyed the remaining Dementors in short order. They flew three more rounds around the chamber and then dispersed. With an exhausted voice but a very cold stare, he pointed his wand at Dumbledore's resting body, performed several wand movements and said, "Conficio Miseriam semper!"

He couldn't take any risks, he wouldn't be so lucky in his misfortune again. But one could never know what safeguards a dark wizard of high skill had undertaken. A dead body was safer than a living one. The pale orb hit the body and then he was dead.

Now the phoenix gave a faint whistle that sounded as exhausted as Harry felt. "I think we're done here. With Dumbledore dead, the spell that kept me here should be released."

But the bird only made an amused sound and they were both suddenly surrounded by a pleasantly warm fire. Harry started laughing and the phoenix joined in in its own way. Of course he didn't have to apperate, he now had a phoenix as an ally. Then, with a bright flicker, they disappeared from the desolate chamber.