Part II – The Pursuit of Happiness and Security
Black Island
A happy, slightly sunburned, Harry Potter lounged under an umbrella eating juicy tropical fruits. He sat watching the big black dog racing the waves while wiggling his toes in the sand and contemplating whether he wanted to dive back into the ocean again now or wait a bit. Decisions, decisions…
Harry had never been on vacation before, so he had no experiences to measure this up against, but he was pretty sure this was awesome!
A private, tropical island. Great weather. No Voldemort. No gawkers. No politicians or reporters. No evil henchmen. Just him and his godfather. It was absolutely brilliant!
Sirius was teaching him to swim for real, no gillyweed necessary. Though Sirius had offered to have Dobby fetch some for later, for when his friends were offered the chance to visit. Sirius had just wiggled his eyebrows and made a few rather raunchy comments about him and Hermione and swimming techniques… Breast strokes… Harry's blush had been epic. But now he couldn't seem to get the thought out of his head. He was both looking forward to, and now dreading, Hermione's planned visit.
She was his best friend, the smartest person he knew. She always supported him, even when the rest of the world (including Ron) turned their back on him. And she had looked absolutely dazzling at the Yule Ball.
Hermione was his best friend, he did not want to ruin that, but could she be more? Would she even be willing to consider being more? Dare he consider it? He couldn't get the thought out of his head now. Did she like him that way?
Would she wear a one-piece, or a bikini?
Feelings and hormonal thoughts were complicated things. The woes of a normal teenager.
Harry was loving his time on the island. He didn't have to garden or cook, he didn't have any mandatory chores to do. In fact, besides taking the bad tasting nutrition potions which Sirius had insisted upon for the both of them, he was encouraged to do whatever he wanted. It was a novel experience. An experience he was happily sharing with Sirius and a free elf.
Dobby had accompanied them to the island. The little guy and Sirius were quite the dynamic duo. Both were absolutely devoted to improve him and his health.
Dobby took care of all the material stuff. He washed, cleaned, and cooked delicious, mouthwatering meals. And Harry's intake was in no way limited this summer by gluttonous (or dieting) relatives. He and Sirius were encouraged to eat as much as they could hold. The more they ate – the happier the little elf seemed to be.
Sirius offered Harry unrestricted and unfiltered love and support. The man-child was always good for a laugh. Sirius was also a gushing fountain of knowledge. Boy knowledge that any self-respecting marauder or future womanizer needed to know. (The next time he brought up Hermione in a bikini, he was going to take a newspaper to the mutt.) Sometimes Harry wished that fountain could be shut off – he didn't really need to know the ins and outs of broom closet positioning, did he? On the other hand, he was mature enough to realize Sirius had a decade's worth of Dementor conversations to make up for. And Harry absolutely refused to turn down any story that contained his parents, no matter what illicit deeds or compromising positions they were reportedly engaged in.
Sirius and Dobby were taking great care of Harry. And Harry was overjoyed to be with them. Dobby was delighted with the work, especially the opportunity to work with the Great Harry Potter Sir. And Sirius finally had quality company and an eager audience for his stories. They were all benefiting from their stay at Black Island.
Life in the sun was good.
This summer was turning out to be the best of Harry's life! And he thanked Sirius every morning for waylaying him and the Dursleys on the muggle side of Platform 9 and 3/4. The Dursley's had been beyond happy to dodge his incarceration at their house, an escaped murderer taking him off their hands was a bonus to them. And after their little chat with Mad-Eye they couldn't get rid of him fast enough. Harry was, of course, happy to go.
Black Island was blissfully relative and villain free. No pirates, no dementors, no Death Eaters, and no resurrected Voldy. On paper, the vilest pair upon the island were Sirius Black and Buckbeak – escaped convicts the both of them, with death sentences upon their heads – should they be caught in Magical Britain. In reality they were both big softies. Harry considered a well-meaning Dobby a greater threat.
Harry just shook his head with a big grin splitting his face. Aunt Petunia could now truthfully say he was galivanting with criminals, living with them. And he loved it!
[Miles away, blood wards on a certain house in Little Surrey broke.]
On Black Island a big, black dog was slowly meandering his way along the beach. A big wet dog.
His godfather might be more comfortable in his animagus form these days, but he would always be a marauder at heart. And this wouldn't be the first time he tried to give Harry a dog bath.
Stealthily Harry reached toward the pitcher of ice water, gleefully provided by Dobby for just such an occasion as this. He would see who treated who to a bath…
(**Weeks later**)
Appalachian High Academy
A tanned, frowning Harry Potter studied the class schedule in front of him. He was trying to recall where each of these classes were located. A very enthusiastic Hermione Granger practically bounced in her auditorium seat beside him. She was very distracting …in her T-shirt and jeans. T-shirt and jeans that, unlike robes, did nothing to hide her feminine curves.
Concentrate. You can admire your girlfriend later. Impress her with your campus knowledge now. Follow Sirius's advice, carry her bookbag as you escort her to her first class and you might gain some serious snog points...
Focus.
The pale blue bikini showed way more skin, but the way those jeans fit…
Dang it! Focus.
Was Potions in the east wing beside the library, or the west wing? Either way he was sure it had been by the central library, but to which side?
This was their first day as students at Appalachian High Academy, one of the premier magical schools in the Americas, and best known for its enormous library. A library that dwarfed even Hogwarts ginormous collection of tomes. The three-floor, bazillion square foot library had been THE deciding factor in choosing Appalachian High to continue their magical education. Hermione, the bibliophile, needed access to all those books like an alcoholic craved a drink. One tour of the facility, and it had been a forgone conclusion where Hermione, and therefore they, would be continuing their education.
There had only been one hiccup in the decision process: for some unknown reason Harry had briefly collapsed the first time they had visited the school. A thorough medical scan had been unable to determine a cause. Harry was convinced Voldemort had been the cause (he thought he heard him screaming), but without any further incidents, despite them visiting the school on two more occasions to meet the staff and attend orientation, Harry's collapse remained a mystery. Nothing to do but go on, nothing that appeared to stop their attendance to the school.
Hermione was now vibrating in her seat with anticipation of gaining access to that library. Only current students could check out library books – and it was opening day. Harry fully anticipated having to drag his girlfriend out of the library at lunch time. Consuming knowledge was fine, but it wouldn't fuel your body like food in your belly. Harry had missed enough meals in the past that he wasn't going to let Hermione neglect her health that way, not even for this library.
The bell rung; the students were dismissed to first period.
Hermione grabbed his hand and bolted towards the nearest exit. She knew exactly where they were going first – they did have seven whole minutes to get to class and she knew exactly which book she wanted to check out first, and it wasn't Hogwarts: A History.
Harry just smiled as he was drug to the library. He wouldn't have it any other way. And did he mention that he really liked the dress code here – snug jeans, tight tops… Molly Weasley would have been appalled.
(**Meanwhile, Across the Atlantic**)
Hogwarts, Great Hall
Albus Dumbledore looked down from his golden throne in the Great Hall and felt his appetite flee.
Harry Potter was not at the Gryffindor table for the welcoming feast.
That mangy mutt had ruined everything!
And now he had the delightful pleasure of sharing a staff table with Dolores Umbridge…
[In other news: Albus Dumbledore had not bothered to call upon Number 4 Privet Drive since the boy had fled, he had not informed the residents of the house that their vaulted blood wards were no more. He did not tell them that a certain terrorist had been resurrected.
Had Albus visited Number 4 at that very moment, he would have discovered a magical crime. The Dursley family did not experience quick or painless deaths.
It would be weeks later before the truancy officer from Dudley's school found the bodies.]
(**Many Moons later**)
Thunderbird Stadium, Appalachian High Academy
Harry dove, adrenaline pumping through his veins, sweat glistering on his brow, and the heated rays of sun beating down on his skin.
(It was an unusually warm December day. But as the locals said: If you didn't like the weather today, just give it a few days – it will change. Warm days mixed in the winter months were not an abnormality here, nor was snow in April.)
A hard elbow impacted Harry's left shoulder, drawing some jeers from the crowd below, and no doubt leaving a nice bruise for Hermione to fuss over later. Play was getting rougher and rougher; the score was tight. He needed to end this, or at least relieve some of the jostling pressure, it was annoying.
The ground would be hard and unyielding, a perfect place to plant his sharp-elbowed opponent. He adjusted his angle and dove faster, the wind whipping through his hair, flaring his robes just right to block the opposing seekers vision…
Some things at his new school were different, but others were the same. Teenagers and sports.
There was nothing like joining a team to quickly meet new people. There was nothing like ensuring a team's victory to gain quick schoolwide acceptance. He might be taking someone else's playing time, but he was easily the most natural flyer on the team, he didn't complain, he worked hard, and he got results – he won. Winning could not be stressed enough for generating goodwill. People liked winners.
It also probably helped that there wasn't just the one team at the school. Appalachian High Academy fielded both a junior varsity and a varsity quidditch squad, with reserve players lining the sidelines for both. The coach was constantly rotating fresh players in at the chaser and beater positions.
Harry played Seeker for the varsity, and he had yet to visit the sideline during a match. He was doing his peregrine falcon impression now, diving hard and fast on his C4 Corvette Grand Sport broom.
(Harry wasn't allowed to play on his Firebolt. Every player in the game was restricted to either the C4, C3, or ZR-1 broom – conference mandate. Corvette Industries sponsored the league and supplied each participating school with brooms. The C4 was slightly faster than his old Nimbus 2000, probably more comparable to the Nimbus 2001 model. It was a good solid broom for amateur seeker play.)
The ground was coming up fast now.
Wait for it…
Wait…
Almost…
Now! He pulled up hard just before impact. The *THUD*, *CRACK*, and groan behind him signifying that the Wronski Feint had been successful, and his opponent had met the ground.
Whether his opponent needed a new broom, a visit to the Healer, or some other combination was yet to be determined. The important note was that Harry likely now had some breathing room to search for the snitch unopposed.
*WHOOSH!*
A bludger whipped by his head.
Okay. Maybe not a lot of breathing room. The Beaters from Rocky Mountain High were good, Fred and George good.
Focus. One glint of gold, that's all he needed, and he would end this.
He wanted to give Hermione her Christmas present this evening, before they portkeyed home for the holidays. Give a little, receive a little –
*WHOOSH!*
Focus!
A medical tent did not equate to a romantic environment, the opposing seeker was finding that out now. Harry didn't feel the least bit bad about it – the bigger boy had been body checking him all game. And it wasn't like he was on deaths door, he had been able to limp into the tent under his own power.
Focus. See the snitch, catch the snitch. See the snitch, catch the snitch.
*CRACK!*
See the bludger, avoid the blud –
A blur of gold in his peripheral vision and he was off like a game-ending rocket. Effortlessly weaving through the other players occupying the air with him, even the ones blatantly trying to foul him and prevent him from doing his job. It was time to prove why he was getting that varsity playing time! Time to prove why there were already scouts in the stands watching the great Harry Potter showcase his skills and go for gold.
(**Meanwhile**)
Malfoy Manor, Great Britain
Lord Voldemort looked on, completely ignoring the groveling, spasming human form twitching on the ground in front of his throne.
Harry Potter was going to an American school, and Lucius had been unsuccessful in his ploy to get the boy legally deported back to Britain. The Wizengamot law passed requiring all British magical citizens to attend British schools hadn't worked - the Americans wouldn't honor it.
How annoying.
Lucius had assured him it would work, even that fool Dumbledore had been on board. But they had failed. The boy had received some sort of emergency refugee status.
The world didn't always bow to Lord Voldemort's wishes. But it should.
Promises made to Lord Voldemort should always be kept, especially by his loyal servants. His gaze once more sharpened with anger upon the blonde man before him. More punishment was in order. Pain was the best motivator he knew, and he relished giving it out, especially to his pureblood supporters.
Softly, he once more hissed, "Crucio."
(**Miles North**)
The Hog's Head Inn and Pub, Hogsmeade
Albus Dumbledore surveyed the backroom gathering with a practiced, twinkling eye. The Weasley's, some of the Hogwarts staff, a handful of aurors, Mundugus, Remus, and a few others… it wasn't the strongest or brightest group, but it would have to do. The Order of the Phoenix would counter Tom and his followers. They would be a beacon of the light, standing firm in this dark time.
They just needed to hold until he could get the boy back.
Curse Sirius Black and the crazy family that spawned him.
The law proposed by Lucius to recall Harry back to Hogwarts had been a masterful stroke. It had been fully supported by both the Light and the Dark factions. As such, it had no difficulty passing in the latest Wizengamot session.
Unfortunately, somehow Black had… No, Miss Granger. Yes, he saw it now, the Granger girl had countered it. Curse that young witch, she was too smart for her own good. He couldn't believe she had turned down a shiny Prefects badge to go to some backwoods colonial school.
He couldn't believe that all Muggle-borns and Muggle-raised had automatically qualified for refugee status in the New World. A disturbingly large number had transferred out to colonial institutions after Blacks open letter.
(The Hogwarts coffers would be even tighter this year. Luckily Dolores was here on the Ministry's dime – Minerva would have really thrown a fit if the woman had been drawing a Staff Salary.)
Thankfully the media fallout from Sirius Black legally kidnapping Harry Potter and fleeing had finally subsided. Amelia Bones had finally been muzzled. It had taken a joint effort from him and Cornelius (likely with Lucius and Tom working in the background) to muzzle the damn woman, and it had temporarily cost him his international position with the I.C.W., but the fuss she had been making was finally squashed. Finally.
He didn't care about the facts – he needed results. He must have the boy back for his plan. Now if only he could figure out where the boy would be spending his holidays. An international portkey wasn't cheap, and was heavily regulated, but maybe, for the greater good…
(**A Few Weeks later**)
Appalachian High Academy
A tanned Harry Potter and a tanned Hermione Granger sat close together, comparing new term class schedules. They both had Advanced Transfiguration with Mr. Bush first. After that they had a study period, which would undoubtably be spent in the library, followed by Certified Charms with Professor Thompson. Then lunch. After which Hermione –
The air was split by an earsplitting screech.
A screeching alarm that wasn't scheduled.
This was not a drill! The school wards were under attack! Voldemort had found them!
Grabbing Harry's hand in a vice-like grip, Hermione double timed it toward the nearest emergency floo connection. They had to get out of there!
(**A Few Minutes Earlier**)
Appalachian High Academy, Front Office
Albus was furious.
What did the bloody school secretary mean he couldn't see the boy? He wasn't on the approved contacts guardian form? He was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, if he wanted to see the boy for the good of the magical world, then he would. He would just –
*BANG!*
Albus Dumbledore was forcibly evicted from Appalachian High Academy by the wards.
The old wizard landed painfully on his tailbone with a humph. Slowly he regained his feet, with an expression on his face that was rarely seen in Magical Britain (he looked downright murderous for a brief moment).
Ill intent wards, moderate setting, bloody annoying they were. That's why he kept them turned off at Hogwarts. Otherwise, he would be collecting Severus from the front gate every time he taught a Gryffindor class.
Well, if that was how it was – he was here to see the boy. He had wasted weeks over the holiday break trying to track down Harry, failing that he had wasted more time trying to locate Miss Granger. He had been unsuccessful. But today, today they would be at this school. He must talk to the boy, convince him to come back to where he was needed, for the greater good. His country needed him.
No measly wards would stand between Albus Dumbledore and the greater good. The ancient Headmaster drew the Elder Wand and began to pump his considerable magical might into tearing down the wards around the primitive school.
Across the school grounds a screeching alarm was sounded.
(**Meanwhile**)
In Washington D.C., deep under the Pentagon, in a series of floors that did not officially exist (And would be impossible for most people to find)
An emergency light flashed red, a horn blared. A message was immediately sent out.
Twenty-one seconds later (that's how accurate their time-turners were) the tactical squad stood ready, primed, prepped, and geared to go. Portkeys were in hand. The backup squad was called up and told to stand ready.
Appalachian High Academy, and the students there, could be in danger.
The team was but a portkey activation phrase away: "Home of the Brave!"
Black Island
Harry and Hermione tumbled out of the Floo, their hearts racing, adrenaline pumping.
Voldemort had found them!
At least the standard security system installed in all North American Magical Institutions had done its job. They had been able to evacuate before the wards fell.
Voldemort had found them!
Nothing to do now but wait.
Barking could be heard in the distance. Sirius would have felt them entering the house wards. He would be racing back to see them now (forgetting again that he was no longer in Azkaban and could apparate). He, as owner, would need to lock down the Floo connection. They –
"Dobby!"
With a small pop the house elf appeared beside the fireplace.
"Code orange Dobby! Code orange!" yelled Hermione, for once failing to greet the little elf. Concern for her parents outweighing all other thoughts.
With a fierce, determined expression, Dobby disappeared again with a small crack. He was following their rehearsed emergency plan.
Harry was pacing the room, while Hermione stood as still as a statue – lost in frantic thoughts.
They had been found!
Found at school, and able to get away. Now it was imperative that all their family be informed of the breach and kept safe. Safe meant lockdown on Black Island until they had more information.
Back at Appalachian High
Albus was sweating.
For a primitive school, the wards had been very impressive. That or he was getting old… Preposterous. The school had very impressive wards, it did.
He studied the wards a little more closely now that he had overwhelmed them. Unless he misunderstood the power array, these wards had been tied directly to a large number of local magical people, likely the staff members… which meant every person within the school tied to the wards would be unconscious now. Sad it had came to that, but they would recover, and no lasting harm was done.
With slow, heavy steps Albus trudged back across the school grounds to the front office again. Surely someone there, the annoying secretary perhaps, would be conscience and know where to find the boy.
Albus reached for the front door, paused, and shook his head sadly. He could still feel magical buildup. Inner defensive wards as well? (Officially they were known as lockdown wards on that side of the Atlantic, but Albus didn't know this, just like he didn't know much about American History, or the American Magical Response Squad – ARMS for short.)
Paranoid colonials. Still, the inner wards couldn't possibly be as powerful as the outer ones. There couldn't be that many staff members left conscience to power them Albus reasoned as he raised his wand to –
The Elder wand seemed to leap in his hand, casting a strong defensive shield before he even consciencely registered the danger.
With dull pinging sounds, a slew of stunning spells sputtered out on his shiny, silver mage shield. They were being sent his way from a group of wizards that had suddenly appeared on his left side.
Did these barbarians not recognize him? It was foolish to engage a superior foe.
He must see the boy.
Albus felt the Anti-apparition wards coming up.
Ha! He was Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard since Merlin. Heck, he was probably greater than Merlin, he had the Elder Wand. He'd show them. What spell would be most effective? Something with area effect… yes, but what kind… It should be flashy and impressive, worthy of the defeater of Grindelwald.
Anti-portkey wards were erected. Bah, they were no concern, he'd tear through them like cheap toilet paper. Irritating to be sure. But no real threat to someone with overwhelming magical might.
A metallic canister full of some kind of gassy substance bounced across the ground and rolled to a stop near him, discharging its contents into the air. Smoke? No, it smelled extremely foul and his eyes… His eyes! They BURNED!
There was a sharp stinging in his back. What the h-e-l…
The mighty Albus Dumbledore wilted to the ground with a soft thud.
Albus' amazing magic senses had not picked up on the muggle tranquilizer dart shot at him from the magical sniper who had taken position on the top row of the adjacent quidditch stands.
(**An Unknown Amount of Time Later**)
In Washington D.C., deep under the Pentagon, in a series of floors used only by government magicals
Albus Dumbledore came to with a groan, cold water dripping down his face, and rigid, rune engraved iron manacles digging into his wrists. He was shackled to a metal chair, in a dark room. A dark room illuminated by a single candle suspended in the air.
Wha… How?
Slowly Albus fired up his brain and banished the cobwebs.
He been incapacitated… by the colonials? Who...? What…? He shook his head. Cool water now filtering through his beard and soaking the front of his robes – it was an unpleasant sensation.
Someone had barbarically decided to revive him with a bucket of cold water.
Rebellious barbarians, still harboring resentment. All over some taxation, representation, and spilt tea. Poor angry souls, they could use some gentle guidance. Anger fed the darkness inside a person. Forgiveness was the path to peace.
A man in a midnight black cloak appeared before him, his face hidden in the shadow of the cloaks hood. Ah, the colonials version of the Unspeakables perhaps?
He would need to state his case firmly, convincingly. These people had long, bitter memories of the British. They had also proven in recent times to be uncomfortably easy to rile, with their quick tempers and large army. They were almost eager to fight over the most minuet of slights.
A large number of the population in the colonies could trace their lineage back to the British shores, but they certainly were not British anymore. They wouldn't have grown up with a greater-than-life image of Albus Dumbledore. It had taken him years to carefully cultivate that image in the British Isles (thanks in no small part by his long tenure as Headmaster at Hogwarts).
It was time to make an impression. Albus knew just how to do it. He tried to speak… but no sound came out.
Silenced. He had been silenced. How dare they!
Unsophisticated colonials. There was a reason they left Britain. The descendants of the dregs of society they were. They gave into temptation to easily. Power hungry, they fell to the darkness within them.
The man in the midnight cloak broke through Albus' musings, "Albus Dumbledore, you sir stand charged with terroristic threatening, assault upon a public institution of learning, illegal entry into this country, illegal possession of an unregistered international portkey, illegal use of an unregistered international portkey, at least 14 cases of magical assault, hundreds of charges of child endangerment, resisting arrest, and anything else we can think of between now and your trial. We will now give you veritaserum to determine your doings and intentions upon entering our country, whether you have any accomplices with you or not."
What!? No. This was not good. He tried to speak again, but still couldn't.
"Do you willingly submit to veritaserum?"
A wand was waved, and the silencing spell upon him was canceled.
Albus drew himself up as much as he could, which wasn't much, considering he was bound to a stiff, cold, metal chair. "I am Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore of the British Wizengamot. Respected member of the I.C.W. I do not submit to veritaserum. I have diplomatic –"
With the lazy wave of a wand, Albus was silenced once again.
The hooded figure leaned closer to Albus, but the hood still concealed the face – masking spell, must be. Probably altering his voice as well.
"You, Albus Dumbledore, are a former member of the I.C.W. Your own country has removed you from that position. And even if you were a current member, you did not travel here by legal means. Illegal entry into the United States automatically forfeits any diplomatic immunity you might have had. And, even if you did have a legal international portkey, your assault upon Appalachian High Academy would have also canceled your immunity as you will be charged with terroristic threatening."
Barty's earwax beans! Albus hadn't dreamed of having any issues approaching the boy, let alone being apprehended and charged with claims of terroristic threatening. He was no terrorist! He was working to stop one. So, he might have went a little overboard in seeking an audience with the boy…
Uncivilized colonials, they didn't understand the importance of his mission.
"Now do you willingly accept veritaserum?" Again, the question was asked.
A wave of a wand, and Albus assumed the silencing spell was lifted once again.
Dumbledore sharply shook his head. This was going very, very wrong. "I absolutely must insist upon meeting with Mr. Potter. It is urgent. A matter of great importance to the boy and the British Magical Community. A matter of international security even. I admit I got a little hasty in my method of gaining visitation, but no harm was intentionally done. I –"
A wave of a wand, and Albus was magically quieted once more.
"No intentional harm," the hooded figure snorted as they flicked their wand at a small red button, making a red glow appear in the air surrounding Albus.
"Time: 10:47 Eastern Standard Time." Spoke the hooded figure in a firm, professional voice. "Apprehended suspect Albus Dumbledore, a British citizen and a noted Occlumens has refused willingly digesting veritaserum. Administering 5 CC's of Veritaserum via needle injection from vial # 35871 now."
No!
A dab of a cotton swab, a jab in the arm, and a slight haze overcome Albus' mind, a noticeable glaze to his eyes.
"What is your name?"
"Albus Percival Dumbledore." He reflexively monotoned in an emotionless voice, a prisoner in a chair, a prisoner to the truth in his own mind.
"Did you assault Appalachian High Academy this morning?"
"I did."
"Of your own free will?"
"Of my own free will."
"Why?"
"They would not let me talk to Harry Potter. I must speak to the boy."
"Why?"
"The boy must be convinced to return to Great Britain."
"Why?"
"He must fulfill a prophecy."
"What prophecy?"
. . .
"How do you interpret this prophecy?"
. . .
. . .
"So you believe that Harry Potter must die to ultimately defeat this Dark Lord?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about Lord Voldemort."
. . .
. . .
"What do you not want me to know about this Lord Voldemort character?"
. . .
. . .
. . .
"Do you have any leads on the remaining suspected horcruxes created by Tom Riddle?"
. . .
"Tell me, have you ever done anything illegal?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what you have done illegal."
. . .
. . .
"Tell me everything else you do not want me to know."
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
It was a very long interrogation for Albus Dumbledore. The man had lived an abnormally long time, and he had a whole lifetime of manipulations (social, political, and economic) behind him.
Questions led to answers that led to even more questions.
The American Magicals were not pleased with the information gained during the Dumbledore interrogation. Prophecies and divination aside, they believed in action.
Tom Riddle appeared to be pouring gasoline all over Great Britain while playing with a match, just waiting to drop it and start World War 3.
America did not have favorable views on terrorists, nor were they opposed to getting their hands a little dirty and sticking their noses into other people's business to prevent any larger repercussions later on. They definitely preferred that any blood spilt be on foreign soil.
The 'Greater Good' was all a matter of perspective.
End of Part II
– C. Wall 5
The next part will feature horcrux hunts.