Chapter 8 Leap Of Faith

"Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all unless you repute yourself such a loser." William Shakespeare in Act 2 Scene 3 of Othello (1603).

"Gellert Grindelwald, I said I would only accept to join your crusade as an equal partner and on the condition of full disclosure, this is not an equal partnership! What you are asking of me is… I'm at a loss for an adequate adjective. I can't believe you are already taking such liberties and I haven't even formally accepted your proposal yet!"

"On the contrary, Albus Dumbledore, I'm giving you a taste of what an equal partnership in this quest really means because, for the first time since I began it, I'm willing to have an equal partner, which entails that you are to share both in the risks and in the rewards. And this is full disclosure. I'm being completely upfront about it, at least with you. We need to disguise ourselves. It would be too dangerous to go to this witch's lair without hiding our identities. Furthermore, we can use the disguise to our advantage in aiding us to keep the woman unbalanced. Last time I was here she almost had someone beheaded because they dared sneeze in her presence. She is dreadfully horrified of disease after her giant mother died from a Billywig sting."

"How can someone die from a Billywig's sting? They just cause giddiness and levitation."

"That is all they do to wizards, but for giants in some cases the sting can induce a deadly hemorrhaging fever. After watching her mother waste away when she was a child, the woman cannot tolerate sick people. And when I first inquired about the scrying pendulum in El gato's possession, her brute of a brother -who works as her enforcer- told me she had already sold it to a wealthy wizard for the price of a fire crab carapace. Their great-grandmother is an infamous poisoner and her 100th birthday is in a few days; El gato wants to gift her with a powerful cauldron. For a price they told me the description of the wizard who bought the pendulum and his bodyguard. The description of the wealthy wizard matches to a T that of the bellboy who carried our luggage in Paris and the bodyguard's description matches the Swabian you played Fire Crab Roulette with. The fact that we managed to win the carapace in this trip, has aided my conviction that our best chance of emerging from the half-giantess lair unharmed and with the pendant is disguising ourselves as them using Polyjuice Potion. I always keep some half brewed in case I need it."

"It is surprising how many of the tools used by conspirators, thieves and spies are also used by revolutionaries."

"Please, Albus, we've been through this: revolutionaries are outlaws by definition… Never in the history of mankind has an 180 degrees change occurred from within the system, least of all pushed forward by a meek flock of lawful citizens. The right to change the world is a conquest, you have to earn it by the wand, my friend."

Hermione moaned and muttered: "I hope he is wrong. Oh Merlin! I do hope he is wrong."

Her friends looked worriedly at her.

But it was Ginny who grabbed her by the shoulders, made her look at her and said: "Hermione Granger, take it from someone who knows it, the best trick of a dark wizard is to take half a truth, coat it in sugar and make you swallow it with a whole lot of bollocks. I wish I had known it when I was younger. And I wish I had known my confident was a dark wizard who only cared for his own agenda. You know who this guy was. Don't let him take anything away from you." Her voice broke, Harry approached her and took her hand. Ginevra Weasley held her head high and ended with a steady voice: "Least of all your belief that love and good can win without violence."

Hermione nodded biting her lip. Harry and Ron embraced their wives, the episode in the Chamber of Secrets, much of which hadn't been discussed, hung heavily on them. Sometimes words don't suffice, but a hug can help. In this case it did. Feeling much better Hermione continued reading.

"You are right, we've already discussed it, and what you have to say sounds very reasonable, including your plan… Or at least it did, right until we reached the part in which you said that I had to pass myself as a bloody syphilitic!"

"It's not you who will pass for a syphilitic, Albus, but the bellboy. You must admit that the best condition to explain the unfortunate boy's bold patches, lanky built and full body rash is syphilis." He chuckled: "El gato won't want to approach you closer than a mile."

"I'm glad you find this amusing. I don't. The fact the bellboy can easily pass for a syphilitic is what worries me the most. Leaving aside the strategic advantages you have already pointed out: Why on Merlin's wide world would I want to dress in his diseased looking skin?"

"Monsieur Dumbledore, I didn't think you were so vain. Polyjuice Potion affects only your looks, you cannot catch a disease by looks alone."

"Some people claim Polyjuice Potion captures a person's true nature. It can alter sight defects. And some traits not present at birth like scars and missing limbs are passed to you, albeit temporarily by the potion. Are you completely certain that syphilis is not transmissible by it? I don't think I've ever read a comprehensive study on the effects of Polyjuice Potion and disease."

"Those are very fair questions, my friend. And that is one of many topics which are not being currently studied by wizards, we seem to be remarkably set on maintaining our ignorance. I haven't got the results of a systematic study, Albus, but I have my personal experience. I've once passed myself as a Muggle leper and, when I reverted back the leprosy was gone. You are only exposing your palate to the bellboy's nature or diseases, if he has them. That can be easily taken care of with a glass of something to wash the aftertaste. You would have had to let the bellboy do something more than carry your luggage to catch that particular disease from him. Don't they teach you that in Hogwarts?"

"Excuse me for not wanting to expose my palate to the bellboy's taste. And I am fully aware as to what it takes to contract venereal ailments. Do they really teach you things like that in Durmstrang as part of the curricula? If they do, besides a reputation of tolerance towards the Dark Arts, your former school should be known for its liberalism."

He chuckled mirthfully: "Of course they don't teach such things as part of the curricula, but you learn all sorts of interesting facts from other boys in the dorms and in the hallways. Is Hogwarts such a bastion of decency that such practices are unknown there?"

"In Hogwarts there is as much extra-curricular learning as in any other wizarding school… And I'm not being vain. What I don't understand is why do I have to be the bellboy?" I admit that I whined like a little boy who doesn't want to play the villain.

He sighed and replied like the big brother who has to explain to the little boy that they all have to be the villain in turns: "Because whoever is the Swabian has to do the talking. Being aware of the bigger picture, I'm in a better position to negotiate with El gato and her brother than you are. I'm sure you'll catch up quickly, but for now, I should be the Swabian because I am the best suited to be."

"That's another thing. Did you really stole hair from those two just because you remembered that two guys who looked like them had bought the pendulum? That's awfully Machiavellian, even for you."

He shrugged: "I am a revolutionary I do what I have to do, Albus. The bellboy's hair was very easy to get, I just pretended that it got caught on my bracelet while he delivered our trunks to our suite. The Swabian was a bit more of a challenge.

I frowned: "What did you have to do to get the Swabian's hair, Gellert?"

"Do you really want to know, my friend? Let me warn you it might offend your sensibilities."

"If you want me to join you, I need to know what I'm getting into. So yes, I do want to know."

"Suit yourself: I had to wait until he was fast asleep to steal it."

I repeated slowly: "What do you mean you waited until he was fast asleep to steal his hair!? Surely you did not... did you? Oh sweet Merlin!"

"I've already told you, all is fair in war. When you are trying to avoid the Apocalypse, you cannot afford to lose. At times you need to make compromises. Remember Belinda the Gorgeous?"

I felt as if hit by Petrificus Totalus: "I thought you had bribed the Swabian with money!"

"I did give him money, but, in order to get him to accept the bribe, I had to get close to him. And I needed to do so in a place where the Lutins wouldn't be privy to our meeting. The only place where the man was alone was in his attic. And the only ones that ever entered the place, besides himself, were his lovers. I also needed his hair and the place was guarded by some really mean curses; so the easiest way to enter it was… I'll let you finish figuring out the conclusion given those premises, my friend. As I said, sometimes you need to make compromises. In this particular case, the Swabian was more of an added benefit."

I should have been warned of the lengths he was willing to go to achieve what he wanted. But that which we refuse to acknowledge, is knowledge we cannot profit from. Instead of being wizened up, I was appalled: "Merlin's beard, Gellert, have you no shame!"

"What shame is there in two people of sound mind and body spending a few pleasurable hours? I don't know why you find this so objectionable, you were the one flirting fiercely with the man, Albus. Not to mention you passing judgment on me feels like an unwarranted intrusion in my private affairs."

I felt hurt. Merlin knows why, but I did: "Alright, your private business are no business of mine… But let me tell you right away, Gellert Grindewald, that I don't share your commitment to the cause. There are some compromises that I'm just not willing to do. One of them is that I won't Belinda the Gorgeous anyone, not even if my refusal brings about the end of the world as we know it."

He chuckled heartily: "My friend, the whole point of this is to change the world we know into the world we want. And no one is asking you to Belinda the Gorgeous anybody... I won't force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with. Anything you do for the cause you will do voluntarily, Monsieur Dumbledore. In fact, if playing the bellboy is so vexing to you, you can sit this one out. I'll figure out a way of getting someone who can play the part… Though it is an unfortunate loss of time."

I sighed: "Let's say for a moment that I agree to pass myself as the syphilitic rich boy. What would that entail, Gellert? Kindly don't spare me the specifics."

"I'll do all the talking. You just need to sit there looking filthy rich, depraved and sick, my friend."

"Wearing the bellboy's looks looking depraved and sick will be the easy part. I'm guessing your wardrobe will take care of the filthy rich part." I growled: "Finish brewing the accursed Polyjuice Potion and let's be done with it. A fair warning, Monsieur Grindelwald, I'm using my personal version of Thief's Downfall as soon as it is safe to do so. I won't wear that boy's looks one second longer than necessary. Also, bring something real nice from that marvelous wine cellar of yours to swallow the potion down with. I won't bet on it being anything even approaching edible."

He smiled: "I'll have Karl bring you the finest of our cellar… So Mr. Holmes has his own version of Thief's Downfall… That is interesting. How did that come to happen?"

I smiled sideways: "If you must know, it is my updated version that they use in Gringotts nowadays. I came up with it because not all of the dueling I've engaged in has been honorable. Being the transmutation and alchemy champion of the convention of magical schools comes at a cost. Two very strong competitors from a school -I won't mention by name- that has a reputation as the best when it comes to teaching self-transfiguration and alchemy, as well as high expectations of its alums performance in those subjects, felt cheated for landing second and third place and decided to give me a humbling lesson under the cover of pretense of being from your Durmstrang."

"My friend, we are often cast as villains. And you don't have to mention the school by name, with only a handful it is not hard to divine you are talking about: Uagadou."

"In any case, I dueled with them, persuaded them that the price was well awarded. And, as they ran from the scene of the attack, I made them come clean about their wrongdoings by dousing them in my very own waterfall of revelation. A Gringotts security official was in attendance of the convention and was intrigued by the fact that my waterfall could even reveal a wizard using self-transfiguration… In fact it can even lift the effects of some courses… So I don't only devote my time to polishing silver with dragon's blood, my friend."

"Touche! I never wanted to imply that is the only thing you devote your time to. I was criticizing a system that binds you in trivial pursues, throwing little bones at you for menial tasks when it should be fully financing you to have ample time to address more important issues."

I sighed deeply: "Long story short, in exchange for the spell, I have a lifetime exception from handling fees for my Gringotts vault, which comes handy. And the wizarding bank got improved security which comes handy too. I would have donated the spell to all wizarding banks, if I could afford it. I would have consider it a public service. But since no one is actually financing me..."

"You are such a good boy, Monsieur Dumbledore!."

That didn't sound like a compliment at all. I should have hold my peace, but I couldn't: "Good boys don't get syphilis, Gellert Grindelwald. Remember that before taking another tour in the rooftops."

He laughed: "Good boys don't get anywhere!" Then he smiled knowingly: "The Swabian was quite the tour de force. You have fine tastes, even if you don't pursue them to conclusion. Pity, a good run in the rooftops is an experience everyone should have at least once in a lifetime. And it is also quite evident to me your views on the matter come from a wealth of inexperience, Albus Dumbledore."

I blushed to the point of popping a vein: "I'll have you know that innocence is considered a virtue."

"I'll have you know that virtue when untested is called ignorance. Real virtue is about balancing consequence and gain, it is about strength of character and making compromises to further the greater good. And good cannot exist without a measure of compassion and leniency towards failure to be utterly good. If good lacks compassion, it ends up being more harmful than outright malignancy."

I looked at him with narrowed eyes: "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

He chuckled: "And that's why I get to be the Swabian."

"Oh shut up!" And he did, if only to go brew the Polyjuice Potion.

All through my life I've had a rather unfortunate association with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, but let me tell you that no bean I've ever tasted -whenever I've been bold or stupid enough to try them- can even begin to compare to the disgusting taste that unfortunate bellboy had. The potion looked like water freshly taken from the Thames and it tasted correspondingly. The Swabian looked tasty enough, like a strong tea sweetened with wild honey. Of course, I refrained from mentioning it, Gellert Grindelwald didn't need to be given ammunition, not by me.

"There is a note: The best Potions master I know, Severus Snape, says that there is nothing in the ingredients or brewing process that could explain a relationship between a person's nature's and the qualities of the Polyjuice Potion. And, though he admits that different persons influence the taste and looks of the brew differently, he is hesitant to adhere to hypothesis of the nature of the person being captured by it. For Professor Snape that is unsupported superstition, akin to Muggles once thinking pictures capture a person's soul. From a purely methodological point of view, I have to applaud Professor Snape's rigor, as correlation does not demonstrate causation … From an ethical point of view, anything that can induce easy judgment as to something as complex as a person's character makes me weary. Hard as it is to do, we should never take upon judging our fellow human beings on little evidence. People are too complex to be judged lightly; even when we judge them upon their actions, we have to tread carefully and it is always better to err on the side of compassion. For we need to remember that when we pass judgment, we are also being measured by it. How could we possibly judge someone upon the color of a brew? I've been Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot for a long time and that is exactly the kind of evidence I would never admit in our courts for any purpose. Merlin be merciful! I tremble at the thought of what possible uses a claim like that could have in the wrong hands." Hermione sighed: "I never saw it quite that way, but he is right. Imagine someone trying to justify Merlin knows what just because your potion doesn't look right in their opinion..."

Ron scoffed: "Luv, Crabbe and Goyle were buggers and Albert Runcorn and Bellatrix Lestrange were proper shits...so, if the Polyjuice Potion fits…"

Hermione had to stifle a laugh, cleared her throat and carried on reading: "And the fact the potion is often used with less than honorable intent means that so far no one has taken upon the systematic study that is called for the resolution of this conundrum. If a systematic study about the so called nature of a person is even possible. The first hurdle would be finding a definition of a person's nature that can be objectively tested. But, that damn curiosity of mine, I do wonder… For example, I find it incredibly interesting to find out if there are bias induced by the brewer. Are their prejudices on the subject into which they intend to transform having any effect on the potion's look and taste? So one of the first experimental designs would have to be a blind study pairing portraits and hair. Since there are differentiated steps, could a bias be present during different parts of the process. You know me, Elphias, I can go on and on when it comes to experimental designs. Especially with a potion as complex as this… But as I write this, my time is very limited; so I better leave it at that. Let's just say, in my experience with its usage; there seems to be some empirical support to those claims that merits further study. In any case, I've never been a lucky person: the bellboy tasted just like one would expect sewer water to."

Ginny said: "You three have used Polyjuice Potion. How does Harry's potion look like?" She smiled wickedly: "I have a fair idea of how the potion might taste."

Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. Ron looked away. Hermione and Harry blushed. Ginny looked at then inquiringly. Harry denied and said: "Better drop it, Gin."

Before Ginny could say anything else Hermione hastily carried on reading.

We were wearing our disguises when he looked at me sideways. I sighed putting away my glasses, which I didn't need anymore. Though, in all honesty, I had no interest in having a good look at myself. As it was, I was having a hard time not scratching the boy's rash. I didn't feel itchiness on my skin, but my mind begged to disagree. To prevent myself from scratching until I raised welts, I interlocked my hands as if in prayer and said: "I know I look awful, but it is really rude to stare."

"You do look awful, but I'm not staring… At least not on account of that. There is something we haven't properly discussed, Albus. I have already mentioned what we are doing is illegal and dangerous, which requires us to take some countermeasures. It is about those countermeasures I want to talk to you. There are some difficulties involved in the process..."

I tilted my head: "You have already mentioned I need to have an anti-age charm like yours, but that is only when we are traveling back in time. Though I guess a few days is still considered time-traveling… I don't understand the difficulty. It will take us no time to cast an anti-age charm in an object."

"Perhaps a practical demonstration is easier..." He began to unbutton his shirt, or, better said, his grandfather's shirt, for he was wearing the Swabian looks and none of his own clothes would have fitted him.

Be careful what you wish for, the thought of seeing the Swabian naked had indeed crossed my mind… But not every thought that crosses your mind is something you would actually want to become real. This being the case in point.

I took a backwards step: "Merlin's wand! Gellert what do you think you are doing?"

He laughed his raucous laugh: "When you act like that you do make me feel like I'm a vaudeville villain. And you are playing the young ingénue, my friend. You have my assurance that your innocence is perfectly safe with me. I have no intention of furthering your education in that particular subject unless you want me to. Remember, there is always choice..." I was looking at him still horrified. He explained: "I only unbuttoned my shirt because I need to show you something." He finished unbuttoning and showed me the mark of the Deathly Hallows framed by Augurey wings extending from his left shoulder blade into the back of his left arm.

I frowned: "Is that a tattoo? I guess that was not the Swabian's and a tattoo that remains unchanged even by Polyjuice Potion has to be powerfully magical. I've never seen one like this before..." I had been about to touch his tattoo, curious thing that I am, but was able to refrain by grabbing my right hand with my left and pressing them against my chest, just like the young ingénue of a badly written vaudeville would do. I don't know who I was trying to convince when I protested: "And I'm not playing the part of young ingénue. I'm just choosier with my intimate friends than you apparently are."

He leaned towards me from the Swabian's height and my heart began racing wildly: "Is it your intention to invite an inquiry as to the actual criteria you use in choosing your intimate friends?"

He was using the Swabian physic to intimidate me. And it was working, I could hardly breathe. I was not able to reply.

His breath tickled my ear as he punctuated: "Because I'm definitely interested, Albus Dumbledore. Let me make that perfectly clear to you." Then he pulled brusquely away and buttoned up his shirt: "But we will have to leave that discussion for another time… When we can calmly address it. I prefer not to rush in such matters… I also prefer that both of us look like us when we do. Though I'm open to some experimentation… I'm Aristotelian." He ended with a devilish grin that looked really good on the Swabian and again made me blush even more. He stifled a laugh and then he said: "We have other more pressing subjects to discuss: I've already told you my pendant is more than an age charm as it helps me hide the signature of my magical energy…"

At last, a discussion I felt more comfortable with. I'm Platonic, when possible, I rather keep wild speculation restricted to the world of pure ideas. Or, as some people have thrown bitterly at my face, frustrated by my hesitance to act: I rather talk the talk than walk the walk. I don't think that is completely true; but, after some rather harsh lessons on the consequences of acting rashly that life has seen fit to teach me, I do like to ponder my actions carefully.

I said: "Yes, I'm not sure how you can charm any object to conceal your magical signature. That energy is imbibed in every single spell you cast because it is part of who you are."

"Ah, clever Mr. Holmes… It is such a pleasure to discuss things with someone who catches up right away. Explaining every single little thing can get so tiresome… My friend, the short answer is you cannot."

I smiled: "Please Gellert, you know I won't be satisfied with the short answer."

He smiled back: "Well, as long as it serves to keep you satisfied: Your magical signature is connatural to you and there is no way of perfectly concealing it. But there are some ways of hiding it so as to make it almost impossible to find. And that is done by a threefold process: first, by charming an object to conceal your identity –including, of course, your age,- second, by imbibing your magical nature with a trait that is compatible with you but other than you and, third, by casting with a different wand."

"But that would completely change the nature of your magic!"

"Yes, and that makes you very hard to be traced and in some cases to be even perceived by most available magical means. Most wizards, including Aurors, won't even think anyone would go as far to conceal themselves. Plus it makes you incredibly dangerous as you learn how to use any wand effectively -regardless of wood and core.- The catch is that, though you can learn to work with the object charmed and the different wand; imbibing your magical nature with something other than you is somewhat more difficult and permanent process."

"Merciful Merlin! Is that even possible?"

"Not according to western magic, but I've spent some fruitful months with American and Pacific Island aboriginal wizards and they undergo rites that completely change the nature of themselves and, hence, of their magic. Some of these rites include adopting a sigil or animal spirit as part of you."

I gasped: "But soul magic is the darkest of the Dark Arts!"

He smiled: "Ancient magic deals with energy and energy has no color, Albus. Not to mention the concept of soul is highly debatable. I've told you I'm Aristotelian, I prefer to deal with facts. The fact is that some very powerful Shamans can change their energy release up to the point of becoming nearly invisible when it comes to their magical signatures. They call themselves shadow walkers. I've undergone one such rite of passage to mask my magical signature and the tattoo is part of it. I've chosen the Deathly Hallows with augurey wings as a symbol of me and my crusade. Saying that this quest has changed the course of my life and the very nature of my magical gift is factual."

He was opening new avenues of thought to me. It was a whole new vision on magic and I felt intoxicated. I looked at him wide-eyed: "Ooh, this is absolutely fascinating! I've never known anyone even willing to discuss the subject of soul magic at any level of depth; let alone someone capable of actually going through the process of altering their soul. You, sir, are a giant among wizards."

He chuckled: "I'm glad you think so, because you are going to have to get a tattoo too."

"What?! You said you weren't going to push me into making any rash decision! Now you are asking me to undergo an ancient ritual and get a tattoo that will change the very nature of my magic? Merlin's might! You are asking me to change my soul! I'm Platonic, I believe in the abstract, including souls."

"I'm not asking you to undergo the full rite yet or ever, Albus. I'm fully committed to this but you don't have to be. As a temporary measure we could do a simplified version of the rite and a temporary tattoo: One that will fade after you change back from the Polyjuice Potion."

"I guess that doesn't sound that bad. And it would give me the chance to see what you are talking about." Damn my curiosity. He had me. I asked: "What kind of sigil or animal does it have to be?"

He shrugged: "It can be anything that inspires you as long as the image is sufficiently big to have the hidden runes inside it. Part of the tattoo is done with visible ink and the rest is done with invisible ink. And, since you are not undergoing the full rite, we will need to add more runes, so the more complex the image the better. Also, try not to make it too obvious. Especially if it is going to be located somewhere visible and I gather you won't want to get tattooed somewhere… err.. not visible."

"It depends on what you would consider a not visible location."

He scoffed: "I mean a place most people won't get to see; with you it could be on your knee."

I chuckled: "Deal! That spot is as good as any. But it has to be the left, I'm ticklish on the right"

"How on the name of Merlin can you be ticklish on just one knee?"

I shrugged: "I don't know, but the fact, my Aristotelian friend, is that I am."

"You won't get me to call you Platonic, my friend. And that is not the easiest place to tattoo, but I guess I brought it upon myself." He sighed: "What would you like to have on your left knee? Remember it has to be something that inspires you and complex enough."

I waved my wand, summoned a paper from my pouch and handed it to him: "Is this complex enough?"

He looked at it, turning it around, trying to make out what it was: "Talk about abstract. I can make it work, even if I cannot make out what it is. You are a gifted Alchemist, is it a conjuring pattern?"

I chuckled: "No, despite the accusations of hermetic secrecy being the bread and butter of alchemy, the craft actually thrives in clarity. Conjuring patterns are representation of the structure of the matter present in the compounds used for the potion, so though they do include lines and often dots; they are nothing like this diagram. This diagram is all but clear, I'll give you three guesses."

He narrowed his eyes: "Merpeople have no writing; but I know for a fact that they have some sort of numeration using knots in a cord… Is that it, a number written in Mermish?"

"That would have been good, but no. That is your second guess, my friend."

He pressed his nose in between the fingertips of both hands: "I need some time to think." He paced the length of the drawing room, breathing through his mouth, while he examined the paper containing lines in red, white and black. He stopped brusquely: "Is this some sort of map?"

I laughed: "Other children must have hated playing riddles with you. Yes, it is a map of London's Metropolitan Railway. It is an old one: from June of 1894, so the names of the stations have faded."

Harry and Hermione both jumped off their seat exclaiming: "Merlin's beard! He said it was a scar!"

They looked at each other smiling. Harry said: "You knew about his scar in the shape of London's underground?"

Hermione nodded: "Yes. But I guess it was really a tattoo… Though, technically, a tattoo is a scar."

Ron scoffed: "I can't believe you are still defending the guy. He lied as often as he breathed, luv!"

Ginny faced him looking pale: "Really Ronald Weasley? That is all you have to say on the subject?!"

Ron looked at her scratching his beard: "What's wrong with you, Ginny?"

Ginny ignored him: "The first thing that comes to my mind is asking: Harry, how and why exactly did you see the man's knees? 'Cause when we were at school he always used ankle length gowns and I can't very well picture any situation that would have justified him lifting them to knee level to show one of his students his bloody scar!" She turned to Ron: "Don't you want to know the same about Hermione?"

Ron pondered it for a couple of seconds and then shrugged: "No… Dumbledore was eccentric, I can actually picture him showing off his scar just because... Though the picture is not pretty. But I'm good. I mean, he was gay and Hermione is too smart to do anything stupid."

Harry said in a voice dripping sarcasm: "Thank you, mate. You are a real friend…"

Ron blinked looking at him nonchalantly.

"You are calling me stupid."

He denied swinging his head emphatically: "No, I'm not."

Harry scoffed: "Gin, love, I never saw the scar. He was eccentric but not in a bad way. He just mentioned he had it off handily during one of our conversations while I was scratching my scar. He said scars can be useful. Which, come to think of it, mine was. Even if the connection with Tom Riddle was unfortunate, it helped save the grandfather of our children, so it was useful in the end…Hmm… Perhaps his comment was not so off handed as I had thought it had been. Reading him calling Gellert Grindelwald Machiavellian is like the pot calling the kettle black."

Hermione said: "Yes, well, in my case he mentioned it quite purposefully, though more than I suspected it. He had come to visit me in the hospital wing while I recovered from my feline encounter of the furry kind and he was talking about how young people can make wrong decisions with the best of intentions. And how some of those decisions can leave a permanent scar in you, if you are not careful. We were having tea but he left earlier because he said he needed to review some inventory. He mentioned that some ingredients from the Potion's lab were missing. They were just the ones I had used to brew the Polyjuice Potion during our second year. He never punished me for stealing them, but I was convinced he knew what I had done. Good thing you cannot blush while you have a cat's fur on your face..."

Ginny nodded: "OK. That sounds like something he would have done. Though I wouldn't have pegged him for someone who'd get a magical tattoo to avoid the authorities, so what do I know about the guy?

"That is a fair question. If he still had the tattoo or a scar of it, then it means he underwent the full ritual. You know the only other instance of soul magic I have knowledge of?"

Hermione's was a rhetorical question, so no one bothered answering.

She sighed: "I only know another spell that affects the soul directly: the one used in the creation of a Horcrux. It requires you to murder someone and to perform a subsequent act so vile that even dark wizards hesitate to mention it. In all of Hogwarts, which is reputed to have one of the most complete libraries in the wizarding world, I was only able to find one single book that gives explicit instructions on it. And it is so foul that it was taken out of the restricted section and hidden elsewhere. So yes, I'd say that soul magic is the darkest of the Dark Arts. I too wonder what we really knew about Albus Dumbledore. And I wonder what to do with what we have learnt now…"

Those were questions each one of them thought fair to ask. They didn't have the answers, though.

Gellert laughed loudly: "Honestly? You feel inspired by an old map of the underground railway? And you dare call me insane, Monsieur Dumbledore!"

I smiled: "I don't feel inspired by an old map, Monsieur Grindelwald, it is a souvenir to commemorate an special occasion. I'm a very purposeful person, my actions are seldom -if ever- random."

"I take it then that it has some emotional value. Would you mind it terribly, if I repaired it? It would make tattooing you easier."

I shrugged: "You can repair it. It does not have emotional value save to remind me of a lesson I learnt when I was thirteen."

He pointed his wand to the paper: "Reparo." Then he said: "Accio tattoo machine." He set the ink and another mechanical contraption in a side table: "This is a modified version of Thomas Edison's electrical pen. I think that mine is better than the one by O'Rilley, but mine is magically modified."

I should have asked why he had designed and built a tattoo machine. Even without asking, I should have deduced that it could be used to expedite the soul changing rite, if his intention was to build an army of shadow walkers. But I didn't want to think about anything that could mean having to walk away from him. I was already deeply caught in the web he spun. Imagine a fly enamored of a spider.

I focused on something else: "Does it hurt?"

"A little, especially if you focus on it. How about you tell me what does this map commemorates?"

I blushed: "It's the kind of silly adventure a thirteen year old can have..."

"I highly doubt it is silly. Not if it is important enough for you to carry this around with you and for you to be willing to tattoo it, albeit temporarily. And the tale may distract you from the pain while I tattoo your knee."

"Fair enough, just promise you won't make fun of it."

"Promised," he said as he started to work on the tattoo.

It hurt more than a little bit. I had to breathe deep to steady myself and not budge: "Well, it happened on June 30th of 1894 on the end of term of my second year at Hogwarts. My birthday is on June 26th and, for reasons I don't really want to discuss right now, my family hasn't celebrate it since I'm ten, not that we ever did much anything before the incident…" I looked down.

He nodded without raising his head: "You mean the incident that sent your father to Azkaban."

I nodded, even though he wasn't seeing me.

He interrupted his work and looked up at me: "People at Godric's Hollow talks, Albus. And I can be very congenial when I need to."

"I bet you are. Anyway, by my second year I had managed to make a friend who liked me enough to be glad I had been born."

He smiled: "Good old Watson."

I smiled back: "Indeed, good old Watson. Back then it was beginning to be fashionable to give birthday gifts and, after some initial mutual mistrust, I had also managed to ingratiate myself to my friend's mother; and on the day of my birthday, I received a gift from them. It was a book I had wanted but couldn't afford to buy. I was really moved by it. It also happened that as people were made aware of my birthday, the prefects and a couple of boys I shared a dorm with decided to organize a party for me in the common room. People were in that celebratory post-examination mood, so it became something big. Which might have been uncomfortable, if it weren't for the fact that I was also in a celebratory mood. I had excelled in my exams; proving wrong those who had thought that the perfect score the little weird moins-que-rien had achieved during his first year had been a fluke of nature. I got a perfect score all the way through seventh year."

He chuckled: "Bravo, Monsieur Dumbledore!"

I scoffed self-deprecating: "Yes, well, by the time the second school year ended and I had to go back to face my… family obligations… I was in a far broodier mood. I had walked forty minutes from King's Cross to Charring Cross Rd., dragging my heavy trunk as I couldn't afford a carriage. And I was pondering a course of action while stranded in the Leaky Cauldron. For the same reasons I'm not willing to discuss, my mum could be a bit disperse and often forgot to pay the bills, as a result I found myself unable to use the Floo Network to go back home. Our chimney had been taken off the network."

"I've never heard of a chimney being disconnected! Does that really happen?"

I laughed bitterly: "It does happen when you forget to pay for a whole year."

"Not paying bills for an entire year is much more than being a little disperse, Albus."

"My mum probably didn't remember that I needed the Floo Network to go back." I thought darkly that she may have even forgotten about me entirely, with her it could be out of sight, out of mind; but I just said: "In any case, my resources were limited: I couldn't afford Muggle transportation, even if I had known how to use it. And, though the laws against underage use of magic were not enforced as rigidly as they are now, given my father's history with law-enforcement and the difficulty of the spells, I was weary of trying to charm a portkey or apparate unauthorized."

"A picsába! What did you do, my friend?"

"I ended up having to send two owls, one to your great aunt and another one to Ms. Marchbanks to ask them to let me use one of their chimneys. The maid said that, due to the distance, I wouldn't have an answer until the afternoon. Then she asked if I wanted to order anything since they are a Pub and are in the business of providing food and beverage, she said it with more than a little sarcasm and cocking an eyebrow. There was a large group of older boys and girls that were eating and drinking while they waited for carriages to take them to the Tower Bridge inauguration; which, in despite of being a Muggle affair, had attracted much attention by the wizarding community. They were continuing their graduation celebration. It was a large group of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even the odd Slytherin… They were downing the last drops of their carefree youth by being loud and rowdy with an outing, a last fanfare. But, of course, as the maid posed the question they all went silent and it felt like they were all staring at me waiting for the answer to the question. The answer should have been a firm no. I had already given them all the business I could afford. But I felt so ashamed that I ended up ordering a Butterbeer which left me all but destitute."

"You were left destitute by ordering one Butterbeer? What are they worth? Not more than a couple of Sickles..."

I sighed: "Butterbeers cost two Sickles. I had left school with exactly 6 Sickles and 30 Knuts in my pocket. I needed a Sickle and 15 Knuts to try to use the Leaky Cauldron's Floo Network again and had already paid for the failed attempt. Each owl cost 25 Knuts. One Sickle is equivalent to 29 nuts. After the Butterbeer, saving up the fair home, I was left with 8 Knuts at my disposal; which I consider pretty much being destitute. That is also the reason why I didn't try to use the Floo Network to communicate, I wasn't sure if anyone was home and to try to reach out would have cost me a whole Sickle for each attempt."

"Oh Albus," He said looking at me with something that seemed very much like pity.

I cleared my throat: "The carriages arrived and the older boys and girls got up and left." I signaled the map: "This was lying on their table and I picked it up. The letters were clearer then and the first name that caught my attention was that of Baker St. Station."

"Ah, you were a Conan Doyle's aficionado even back then!"

I smiled: "Yes, I was also terrified that the maid was going to ask me if I wanted anything else so, instead, I asked if she could watch over my trunk, which she accepted. And I left to go look for the street where Sherlock Holmes was supposed to live."

"I did something of the sort with Nagymama and was terribly disappointed to find that the actual street only has 85 numbers."

I chuckled: "Oh my story has a long way to go before reaching that sad finale. And it was disappointing, but at the same time it was liberating. Lend me your ear and I'll tell you all about it."