BOOK 3 OF THE NURMENGARD TRILOGY: HARRY POTTER AND THE EMERALD SIGILLUS
What if the plans "for the greater good" were never abandoned after Grindelwald's fall and were secretly nurtured since? This fanfiction continues Harry's story directly after book 7, not an alternate universe. Join Harry and his friends in finding out more about Voldemort's as well as Dumbledore's dark pasts, unraveling the mystery of the "Fourth Tower" and all of that eventually leading to Nazi-Germany-like conditions in the Wizarding world...
BOOK 1: Harry Potter and the Fourth Tower
ID: 14010782
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BOOK 2: Harry Potter and the One with a Thousand Names
ID: 14023755
Disclaimer: This is a translation of a fanfiction written in 2012 by Hungarian author Juhász Roland aka. Parselmouth Lion ("Harry Potter és a Smaragd Sigillus"). Thus, none of the content created afterwards (e.g. Cursed Child or the Fantastic Beasts movies) is considered, this should be kept in mind while reading, but otherwise it follows the original books. Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are property of J.K. Rowling. The story of the fanfiction is intellectual property of Juhász Roland. I make no claim to ownership.
- Chapter One -
The Circle Breaks
At the top of the hill, a man in a red robe stood in the blowing wind, watching the crimson rays of the sun as it set over the humid jungle. Around the clearing at the top, and everywhere below, an ocean of deep green leafy trees spread as far as the eye could see, and the sounds of birds and forest animals filled the sultry evening air. It was like a chorus, each member singing a different note, making it a fuzzy din, which the man listened to with an indifferent calmness.
Not only was his robes red, but also his wind-whipped hair. His face was covered with freckles that made him look much younger than his age. He wound up the sleeve of his robe and glanced at his battered gold watch - it was only a few minutes to nine. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long for the others. He lowered the sleeve of his robe and felt in his pocket for a long, thin wooden stick... He did this just a moment before the loud pop.
The sound of what might have been a cannon shot startled a flock of brightly coloured tropical birds preening in the branches of a nearby tree, and the man in the red robes moved almost with them, drawing his wand with lightning speed and pointing it at the figure that was responsible for the pop.
The man who had appeared out of nowhere did not frighten, only froze for a short moment, but on a second glance, when he recognised the other man, he blew out the air he was holding in impatiently.
'Hm... I didn't expect to see you here already, Uther,' he said to the freckled one, who now slowly lowered his wand-holding hand, but as if disappointed that no duel had taken place. He didn't answer the incomer, just looked at him with the eyes of someone who was wondering whether it was anyhow worth attacking the other person.
The newcomer also wore a red robe, but other than that he was different in almost every aspect. He was shorter and his complexion was dark brown, a clear testimony to his Latin American origins. His coarse, ebony hair resembled a pile of straw, and a mad grin spread across his face as he looked at the redhead. Whether his eyes reflected this madness, it was impossible to tell, for he wore strange sunglasses, or rather goggles, behind which one could not see anything of his eyes.
'Where is Harlam?' asked the Latino man casually. 'I thought you two were practically glued together.'
'He will come...' said the one called Uther, evasively. 'He still has things to do.'
'What does he have to do?' the other man asked back pertly. 'If he's planning something against the Nameless, he won't succeed anyway. He's gone completely mad if he thinks he can beat him. Even you wouldn't be able to overcome him, Uther...' he flashed him another of his deranged grins, and then continued in a sly tone. 'Don't you think I don't know your deepest desire!'
Uther's face darkened ominously, and he looked at the man opposite him like a predator.
'Mind your own business, Miguel.' His reply sounded almost like a growl, as if he were one of the predators of the jungle.
Miguel just shook his head, then turned away from the man, but still keeping one eye - hidden behind his glasses - on him. For a long moment, not a word was spoken between them, and then the jungle sounds were drowned out again by a pop.
This time there were two, a man and a woman, as different as they could be, yet they came holding hands, and she seemed to be leading him in the apparition.
'Well well well, Lady Jarmila,' Miguel squeaked in a honeyed voice as he looked the pair over. 'Are you nursing Quirinus nowadays?'
The witch was a beautiful woman with long, brown hair, her frail body covered by a loosely woven red silk robe. She did not acknowledge a word of Miguel's greeting, but nodded wordlessly to Uther, who, having returned the greeting in the same manner, began to gaze at the man who came with the beauty with a scowl.
At first glance, the wizard looked like a sick Indian prince. He wore a peacock-feathered turban and his face was covered with a shawl, but the free space he left around his eyes seemed not ordinary. He walked with a stoop, gave sound to a constant, strange grunt, one eye was stiff and reddened, his eyebrows were missing, and his bare skin was marred by a horrible burn. He said nothing, but stood still, bent, shivering, as if oblivious of what was going on around him, and yet he was a fearful appearance.
'I don't know why the Nameless invited this cripple...' Miguel continued with the cawing, but the grin was still on his face. The man in the turban jerked his head a few times, but showed no other reaction. 'How could he even be allowed in the Circle when he hasn't got the brains of a handful of doxy eggs?'
'You know, I've already asked that question about you, Miguel...' the witch answered caustically.
Uther also smiled mockingly, but the victim didn't even notice the remark, just grunted and tapped his goggles with his black leather gloved hand.
'I'll keep an eye on you, my lady,' he hissed menacingly.
Jarmila left the ever-shivering man with the turban and walked over to Uther. The latter watched her with a slightly frowned eyebrow and stood before her with his arms folded, like a rigid statue.
'Harlam is about to do something foolish. You must stop him,' she whispered to him with a straight face. Uther scowled even darker, still silent. 'You know what will happen to him if he attacks the Nameless,' Jarmila continued insistently. 'Would you be watching as calmly as you are now when the Nameless kills him in front of you?'
Uther glared at her, knowing that she was trying to get inside his head, but he was too good an Occlumens for such efforts. Still, for the first time he seemed to show some interest.
'Harlam is no fool.' That was all he said, but Jarmila smiled sadly and shook her head.
'Now he will be. His hatred is too great - you know him: when those close to him are hurt, he loses his mind completely.'
Uther just snorted, and he too shook his head, as if he thought what she was saying was ridiculous or pathetic.
'His brother hadn't been close to him for years. Family meant nothing to him since he left them.'
'You are wrong,' the witch insisted. 'And his life is in your hands. We'll soon see...'
With that, she left the wizard with the gloomy face and went back to the shivering and sweating man. The two others watched her for a while as she tried to calm the troubled turbaned man with quiet words, but Miguel couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.
'Hey you, Jarmila...' he said to her. 'How much does this wretch understand of what is happening around him?'
'Quirinus hears and understands everything very well, Miguel. You'd do well to remember that before you tease him any further,' came the reply, and the subject of the conversation sat down on a protruding stone, muttering, and holding his head with both hands as he lurched back and forth. The backs of both hands were as burnt as his face.
'Are you implying that this cripple could beat me?' Miguel laughed and looked at Uther, as if expecting him to join him and laugh at the turbaned man, but the red-haired wizard's face didn't flinch.
The beautiful witch shook her head and looked impatiently at her pocket watch.
'Let's put it this way, Quirinus would not be an easy opponent, even with your abominable skill, dear Miguel...'
They could not talk any further, because another apparating person had arrived, and he had not come alone either. Out of nowhere came a tall, lean, white-haired old man with a hooked nose and a gruff look, and an expression no more winsome than the contemptuous Uther, or the half-smirking Miguel.
'Only this many people have arrived?' he asked in an old, raspy voice, and let go of the hands of the two thin figures he had brought with him.
'You cannot bring servants to the meeting!' Miguel shouted at him indignantly, before the others could greet him.
'Easy, son. They are not servants,' snapped the white-haired wizard. His companions were inferi, both very bony and bare, their skin glistening wetly, making them look as if they had just crawled out of the water. 'Can't you see past your nose with those glasses?'
Miguel snorted happily, as if he had been just waiting for this.
'I'll take them off if you want!' and he reached for the strap of the goggles.
His gloved finger had not yet reached the leather strap on his head when Uther moved with the speed of a snake; he drew his wand and pointed it at Miguel from across the clearing.
'Oh, so you do want to play?' the wizard with the glasses said, but his voice was unsteady.
Uther remained silent, made no threats, said not a word to make Miguel get his hands away from the glasses, just stood and waited.
'Stop fighting,' Jarmila said icily, but her words fell on deaf ears. Both wizards were ready for a fight, but it was Uther who was not the least bit afraid, in fact it was as if he was eager for a confrontation. For the first time, the red-haired man's face broke into a smile, his lips parted and he took a deep breath. Miguel's indignant grin turned into a nervous snarl, his fingers were reaching millimetre by millimetre to grip the strap holding the glasses, ready to snap it off at any moment. Jarmila closed her eyes and turned away, and so, strangely enough, did the old man, who was watching the impending confrontation with a certain indifference - only the turbaned Quirinus was still staring, still giving no sign of comprehending anything of the world around him.
Then the arrival of another couple interrupted the seconds-long eyeing-contest.
Two tall figures apparated to the top of the hill; one wore a blood-red robe like the others, and a metal mask richly ornamented with glittering jewels on his face; the other was the strangest-looking of them all. The masked person's companion's skin was a dark blue all over, and his eyes glowed blue-white, glowing so that nothing else of the eyes was visible - it was as if two lamps were burning in the sockets of his eyes. His face was framed by long raven-black hair like a curtain, and he watched the other red-robed men like a predator watching its prey.
'Who have you brought among us, Nameless?' Jarmila asked when the blue-skinned man's gaze settled on her.
However, the Nameless was not looking at her, but at the pair standing opposite each other.
'Uther... Miguel...' the sorcerer looked at the named ones. 'Can't control yourselves again?'
'We just had a little disagreement, oh almighty Nameless,' the Latino sneered. The white-haired old man sighed hoarsely and shook his head, and Jarmila grimaced.
'Calm down, both of you,' said the Nameless in a commanding tone, but Uther didn't move. Seeing this, Miguel did not take his hand away from his glasses.
'I don't recall you being our leader, Nameless, so I'll take care of this insolent worm whenever I want to,' he hissed with a snarl.
Uther smiled even more at this, his wand vibrating with the magic that was gathering inside it, almost eager to strike the other...
The next moment, they all backed off, as a mass of swords burst from the ground between Miguel and Uther, reaching several metres high, gleaming, sharp. The blades stood like sombre monuments on the hilltop bathed in the evening light. Miguel looked nervously at the Nameless who had summoned the swords, and finally removed his hand from the strap of the goggles.
'That could have come from under you,' the masked sorcerer whispered.
'I don't think so,' said the taciturn Uther now in a rasping voice.
The Nameless looked at him, and he pointed his wand towards the ground. Beneath the red-haired man's feet, the weedy, rain-soaked ground turned to sparkling crystal, on which the wizard stood calmly, confidently.
'Well done...' said the masked man appreciatively. 'I expected nothing less from you.'
Uther made no reply, glaring at the Nameless with an inscrutable expression, and pocketing his wand, but still not moving from the part that had turned to crystal, even when the Nameless removed the sword blades with a careless flick of his own.
'Shall we start the meeting, or shall I expect more bickering?' he asked from behind his mask.
'Is that all there will be?' Uther raised his eyebrows. 'Where are the others?'
'This is a discussion for just a small circle, I didn't want to invite everyone,' was the answer.
Uther folded his arms and squinted at the other.
'The last time you called us together was when Voldemort died. You'd better have a good reason for this new meeting...' he hissed warningly.
'Don't worry about that,' said the Nameless, then put his hand on the blue-skinned man's shoulder, almost in a friendly manner. 'As you can see, I have brought with me an acquaintance to take the place of the recently deceased Lord Octavius, as the companion of his brother, Lord Cerberus,' he nodded now towards the white-haired old man who stood between the two inferi, his robes flapping in the wind.
He paused briefly, and his eyes, hidden behind diamonds, roamed the audience. As no one said a word, he continued:
'Let me introduce you to Lord Marius! When you get to know him, I am sure you will agree with me that he will take his rightful place among us.'
Miguel snorted loudly.
'Is this the reason for the consultation? To show off your latest bootlicker? This... freak?'
His words caused the circle to fall silent, but Marius' flashing eyes had a clear message for the man with the goggles. The first of them to speak again was Jarmila:
'Miguel is suggesting that the Circle of the Fourth Tower welcomes wizards and witches who are masters of dark magic. Well, I see that the last criterion is met by this blue-skinned creature, but the first...'
'He is not human. He can't be a member of the Circle,' Uther interrupted, when he'd had enough of Jarmila's choice words.
For a while no one said a word, only the quiet tension between them could be felt. Marius stood waiting in the background, staring at the red-robed sorcerers judging him with his glowing eyes. Finally, the Nameless cleared his throat and spoke.
'Your opinion does not come unexpected,' he said quietly. 'But thanks to Marius, we have the three towers in our possession, and now we will need him again to carry out the third phase of the plan. His role is indispensable...'
Uther, however, shook his head and boldly interrupted the Nameless:
'This does not change the fact that the Circle only lets humans in. Not corpses,' he said coldly, looking fearlessly at the two sorcerers.
Miguel grinned profusely and nodded alongside him, as if he had forgotten that they had almost jumped each other a few minutes ago.
'That's right. Not a human...'
'I am as much a human as Riddle was,' Marius said suddenly in a very deep voice. 'Or as much as any of you are, honoured lords!'
Uther, Jarmila and Cerberus looked at each other, but Miguel started hissing like a snake again, and his grin turned back into an animalistic snarl.
'You think I can't see what's behind the lenses of those black glasses?' he poked his chin at the Latin American's contemptuous expression, then waved a hand at Quirinus. 'Or that I don't know what's consuming that poor fellow over there?'
The turbaned sorcerer was in a terrible state, his burnt hands shaking constantly, but one reddish eye was now fixed on Marius, as if he had heard his words. Lastly, the blue-skinned man then turned to old Cerberus:
'... and I haven't even mentioned you, my dear uncle. You may think me dead – an inferius... dementor... But you are just as dead inside. You all left your humanity behind to have come this far. So don't you dare judge me at first sight!'
They all listened in silence to Marius' words, who now smiled slightly. He saw the Nameless standing patiently beside him, his masked face lifted to the star-studded blue sky, as if to read something from it. Despite the twilight, there were still many birds flying in flocks over the jungle, as if they could not find peace.
Marius continued to smile and spread his arms.
'But if it's my appearance that worries you...' he said, laughing, 'I can easily help with that!'
By the time he finished his sentence, his face had changed. The blue of his skin had become light, almost pale, the glow in his eyes had faded and healthy, sea-blue eyes looked back at everyone; his teeth were human again, his clawed fingers had normal white nails.
'Does this make me fit for the Fourth Tower?'
'Ah...' said Lady Jarmila, raising her head in amazement. 'A metamorphmagus.'
Cerberus watched his nephew's transformation for a moment, then, as if to indicate his agreement, nodded his head, and considered the discussion closed. The Nameless laughed contentedly.
'So will you accept Lord Marius into the Circle?' he asked.
Miguel, Jarmila, and Uther nodded in turn. No one paid Quirinus any mind, but when Uther looked at the man with the turban, he thought and spoke again.
'We accept Marius as the heir of Octavius,' he told the Nameless. 'But you know full well that the whole Circle must agree - and you have not invited them.'
The Nameless merely gave a small smile and shook his head.
'Never mind that, Uther. We'll get to it. It's time to begin the council, for as you said...' he glanced at Uther from behind the diamonds of his mask, 'I have called for this meeting.'
With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked around in front of the other sorcerers, his head bowed, looking at the ground. The sun had completely disappeared below the horizon, its last rays had retreated, and the stars had taken over the sky. In the sultry heat, the air was filled with the sound of animals, but of the variety of creatures, the only ones in the company of the seven sorcerers were birds flying in groups.
The Nameless paused, looked up at a flock of colourful birds, then slowly began with his speech:
'We've got through the first two phases of the plan, faster and more flawless than our founder has once managed. The three towers are in our possession, the headmasters of all three schools are my Faceless, and have now completed their work: Durmstrang, the Delphi and the Eastern Wizarding Schools have become a bastion of dark magic in the last year. A few weeks ago, we acquired more ministries than Grindelwald could ever have dreamed of - my Faceless have taken over the role of ministers in all but one.'
He paused, and ran his gaze over his audience to see who would dare to contradict him. No one spoke, and the Nameless continued.
'Now the third phase is about to start: the Purge. We will continue Grindelwald's quest to destroy the goblins who prey on wizarding wealth, the werewolves and vampires who spread like a disease, the giants who know only destruction... All will be gone who would bring instability to a healthy, wizard-dominated civilization.'
Marius gave all his attention to the Nameless, he hung on every word. His old-new human face did not flinch, but his eyes held a vivid gleam that was missing from his formerly bright demonic eyes.
'The fourth phase is the war of the Muggles. It is inevitable in order to take the final step, the Exposure, when we abolish the damned International Statue of Secrecy and step out of obscurity.'
The Nameless spoke passionately, and everyone listened intently, even the confused Quirinus, but when he finished, Uther scowled at him.
'Lord Grindelwald has already failed with this plan. He never got to phase five. What makes you think you of all people will succeed?'
The masked sorcerer, who had been pacing incessantly, paused, and then, with a slightly tilted head, answered his challenging questioner:
'There are several reasons for this. Firstly, after many decades, the Muggle world is once again a fertile breeding ground for a major war. Just as sixty years ago, there are now several hotspots in their world where all they need is a little push and they'll happily go at each other... It's easy to imagine them going to war with each other even without our intervention.'
'For sure,' the old man named Cerberus nodded at him seriously, 'the Muggle mob has always been good at two things: endlessly breeding like animals and killing each other.'
Everyone left Cerberus' words without a comment, except Jarmila:
'Last time, even that part of the plan fell through,' the witch said in a doubtful tone. 'When Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, the Muggles who had been cursed with Imperius came to their senses and the World War was over within weeks. What is that if not proof against your views?'
Cerberus Prince shook his head, with an expression as if he were trying to explain something to a stubborn child. Uther was barely listening, just looking at the Nameless, while Miguel made no secret of his boredom, and chewed his nails while standing there.
'You misunderstand me, my Lady,' the old man responded, 'Muggles are forced to be at war with each other because of their inferiority, as none of them can be worthy to be their true leader. All they care about is their own selfish interests and this causes endless rivalry between them. Only a superior, a witch or a wizard, can show them the true way, can be entitled to lead them, but to do so we must show the Muggles for what they really are: bickering children...'
'If they are, how do you hope to bring them under your control?' Jarmila asked. Now the Nameless answered for Cerberus, and Marius watched silently from the background.
'Fear is the key,' said the masked wizard, 'Muggles are afraid of many things, and therefore they actually crave guidance. They are servile and fearful. Most Muggles spend their short and meaningless lives waiting for someone strong and powerful. We give them that, and in doing so, we do them justice. It is the way of things: the best are entitled to rule.'
Jarmila nodded when the Nameless had finished and said no more. Next to her, Quirinus lurched dazedly from one foot to the other; she then touched his shoulder and whispered to him something, and the turbaned man relaxed slightly.
Meanwhile, the Nameless stepped forward into the circle of the lords and lady.
'As I mentioned, there are several reasons why I am so confident that the Circle of the Fourth Tower is close to fulfilling its ultimate goals. The status of magical beings is very precarious these days. The goblin rebellions are over, but the tensions lurk deep within both societies. Nurmengard can easily be used to inflame tensions, the goblins will not accept the new wizarding laws - and that will be their undoing!'
'You will need a stronger argument for the Purge,' Miguel interjected, and spat out a piece of fingernail on the ground. 'You can't just start exterminating those bastards, you need a good reason.'
'We will have our reasons, my dear Miguel,' said the Nameless, turning to him and stopping in the middle with his hands folded. 'We will soon give them a reason that will be sufficient even for the beings-worshippers. But it will require a sacrifice...'
Then he fell silent, and just stared ahead at the witch across from him, who gaped a little. Jarmila squinted back at the masked man, as if examining him or trying to read his mind. Then she spoke:
'Durmstrang.'
'Did you see it, my dear?' asked the Nameless in a strange voice, as if he had both been surprised at this development and had expected it. 'Then you know why all this is necessary. Durmstrang must be destroyed.'
The others were astonished at the words of the Nameless and the witch, and now it was Cerberus, who stepped forward from his bodyguarding inferi, who was the first to speak out.
'Are you serious? After all the trouble you went through to get it, you're willing to sacrifice one of the towers just to start phase three? It's too high a price, the other lords will never agree...'
'The other lords don't need to know,' the Nameless interjected in a harsh tone. 'That is why I have invited you to this meeting. I need your help to finish Grindelwald's work. The other lords and ladies are too cowardly to take action. If it were up to them, we would hide forever in the darkness like insects, and in a hundred years the Fourth Tower would be a forgotten experiment. But you...' he looked around them again, 'you have never been afraid to defy the decisions of the Circle and you have proven yourselves to be the most powerful.'
Miguel grinned in satisfaction on hearing this, but Uther was still not impressed.
'If you really called us because you need the strongest, why not involve the Lord of Fire in your plans?' he asked, as if he were only interested in the answer.
Now the Nameless roared, condensing in his voice such deep contempt that it foretold all his opinions.
'The Lord of Fire is just a pathetic buffoon who has gained power and a seat in our circle only by acting and his wealth!'
No one disputed this, Cerberus even nodded at that, but Lady Jarmila stepped closer to the Nameless and sighed heavily.
'It is true,' she began, 'that the Lord of Fire lags behind us in magical power, but his servants and beasts are so numerous that his army is far greater than that of all of us here combined...'
'I don't need a bigger army or beasts to successfully execute Grindelwald's plan!' said the Nameless in a tone that made clear he did not wish to waste any more words on the subject. 'We will not crush our enemies by force, and if war should come, the occupied ministries will provide enough aurors, perhaps even more than the infamous army of the Lord of Fire.'
For a moment he was silent again, for a whole flock of birds had landed on the top of the huge clump of trees beside them, big, black, as if they were on their way right there and not care for the red-robed figures at all. The Nameless watched them for a while, then turned his back on the tall trees.
'And that brings me to the third reason,' he explained his plan further. 'Albus Dumbledore is dead. There is no one to stop us, inside or outside the Circle. There is no power among wizards and witches that could defeat either one of us.'
'What about Harry Potter?' Jarmila asked unexpectedly.
They all looked at her, and she stared back at them with a blank expression on her face.
'Pardon me?' asked the Nameless, as if he had misheard the witch's words. Jarmila took another breath before continuing.
'Are you not considering Harry Potter?' she asked again from the masked sorcerer. 'He was a student of Albus Dumbledore, and they say his magic is unrivalled. We all know that you were unable to stop Harry Potter when he broke into Nurmengard and destroyed half the town with his company. In fact... some say he nearly killed you.'
Uther frowned at the woman, then at the Nameless. The latter nodded after a brief silence.
'Indeed,' he admitted, 'Harry Potter nearly killed me, and only blind luck saved me from my doom.'
Jarmila nodded, too, as if she knew all the details, and not just by hearsay.
'Voldemort was protected by luck from Harry Potter only for a time. And he was one of the strongest of us...' Miguel hissed contemptuously, but Jarmila shushed him. 'You are mistaken if you think, Miguel Tarasca, that you could have killed Lord Voldemort! I've looked into his future, more than once, and his destiny has always been in the hands of only one man...' she turned back to the Nameless and said it to his diamond mask: 'In Harry Potter's. Voldemort and his fate were bound together by forces that no mortal creature could control or steer. I cannot imagine what mystery the boy still holds for us - or for you, Nameless.'
The wizard, however, was apparently not the least bit interested in the Seer's warning, as he just watched the flocks of birds flying in the sky, as if he was not paying attention to the conversation.
'I'm not afraid of what the future holds for me,' he said quietly, when Jarmila had gone silent. 'The Circle of the Fourth Tower is not about me. I have no wish to rule over millions of wizards and muggles when our victory is complete. I see myself as a soldier, Grindelwald's most loyal follower... His spirit will carry on and the Circle will have to rule.'
For the first time, Uther's pale, freckled face lost its expressionless statuesque stare and gave way to scepticism.
'So you will not demand control?' he wondered. 'That's unlike you.'
One could almost see the Nameless smiling behind his mask.
'The world is too big for one man,' he said in a laughing tone, and then added after a moment, 'And leave Harry Potter to me.'
Cerberus spread his arms wide in puzzlement.
'What did you even want from him anyway? Why were you so interested in Potter?'
The Nameless turned his back on him, started to walk between them again, and just nodded his head towards Jarmila.
'You should ask our Seer about that, if you're so curious. She surely must have seen it...'
Uther, Cerberus and Miguel looked at the witch expectantly.
'I can't see Harry Potter clearly,' she said. 'His future is hazy, almost invisible. I've only experienced this with other Seers and time travellers.'
'Potter has used a time-turner before,' Cerberus said. 'He himself said so on that remembrance event. I heard it with my own ears.'
But Jarmila shook her head.
'The fact that he changed the events of three hours in the past would not affect his distant future,' she explained patiently. 'Yet, Harry Potter is invisible to me, which means he is aware of certain events in the future and therefore able to change them... just as Albus Dumbledore once was because of his time-turning powers.'
Now it was Miguel's turn to wonder.
'Did Dumbi have a time-turner?' he asked eagerly, as if he could already feel the special magical object in his hand.
This time the Nameless answered for the Seer.
'Yes, he invented them with the sorcerers he lured with him when he and Grindelwald went their separate ways. Dumbledore's time-turner was extraordinary, he could travel through time for months, even years, but its time-turning magic was limited. As far as I know, he could only use it three times, and then it was completely drained of magic...'
'However it happened,' growled old Cerberus, 'the fact is that Dumbledore left Potter and his gang several special possessions. His time-turner might easily have been one of them.'
'Yes, it might...'
The clearing was silent again, only the birds' noise grew louder, so loud that the trembling Quirinus groaned bitterly and put both hands over his ears. None of the sorcerers paid him any attention, all were digesting what had been said.
'If Potter is aware of our plans, he is dangerous.' A muscle twitched in Cerberus Prince's face as he spoke the name again, and his hatred was reflected in his dark eyes.
Marius, standing next to the Nameless, watched his reactions attentively, as he had everyone else's during the meeting.
'This raises problems. We have to kill him before he causes any more trouble,' Miguel declared, licking the edge of his lips with great relish. 'I could visit him...'
'If we want Potter, we have to replace the minister first, that Arthur Weasley. He's hiding Potter, he stayed with him during the Dark Lord's time,' Cerberus thought out loud.
His words were met with murmurs of agreement.
'We've all read in the papers what happened in the last attempt to get the London minister. Arthur Weasley escaped the assassination attempt. He's certainly tougher than you thought, isn't he?' Jarmila raised her head, but the Nameless held up his hand and the witch went silent.
'I've told you: leave it to me,' the masked sorcerer repeated, but his voice rang with command. 'In the Purge and the Muggle War, be of help to me. Decide if you want to be part of the creation of a new world - a magical being-free, just world, where power is in the hands of those who have the right to it. My question is simple and clear: who will stand with me - and who will not? Cerberus Prince?'
Despite the abrupt change of subject, the old wizard nodded readily when the Nameless looked at him, as if he had his answer ready long before the question was asked.
'I'm on your side, as always,' he said proudly.
'What a surprise...' Miguel muttered with a wry smile. The Nameless asked him second.
'And you, Miguel Tarasca? Are you willing to do something about it, or do you just keep running your mouth?'
The Latino laughed out loud, but his laughter was mirthless.
'I'm in,' he replied hastily. 'But keep blue-face away from me...'
Marius snarled at him, and for a moment his complexion darkened again from the anger, but he quickly restrained himself.
'Lady Jarmila?'
The beautiful witch closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
'You know well, Nameless, that I do not participate in the actions of the Fourth Tower. You can always rely on my predictions, and I'm happy to help, but you can't count on my direct support.'
The Nameless acknowledged it with a nod and was about to move on to the next one when his eyes caught the turbaned man next to her.
The man was not shaking, mumbling and struggling with himself as before - his eyes, which were above the shawl, were surprisingly clear, and he looked straight at the Nameless with his half-lidded eyes.
'Aren't you going to ask me?' he thundered in a voice as if his words were coming from the bottom of a well.
'Quirinus, are you awake?' the Nameless wondered, and the others looked at him.
'I've heard every word you've said so far. But sometimes the pain is too much... I want the one who gave this pain to me to pay for it. So my answer to your unasked question is yes. I want to help you achieve your goal, but I want something in return.'
Everyone listened to the turbaned wizard in silence, even Miguel restrained himself, despite his earlier taunts.
The Nameless stepped closer to Quirinus.
'What is it?' he asked in an inquiring tone.
'I want to kill Harry Potter.'
Hearing his statement, the Nameless said nothing for a long time, and the two masked men stared at each other for a long moment.
'I have business to do with Harry Potter.'
'And you can. But afterwards, I want to kill him!' Quirinus stayed stubborn.
The Nameless folded his arms and gave a short breather from under his mask.
'Alright. Harry Potter can be yours after I capture him,' he agreed, then held up his index finger and said, 'In return, I expect unconditional obedience. You will obey all my orders, no questions asked.'
Then he turned and looked at the others.
'And this goes for you too! You're the lords of the Fourth Tower, but I'm in control of Grindelwald's plan to the end.'
No one argued with him, and he took their silence as acceptance and moved on, stopping in front of the last man, Uther. They looked at each other again, as they had done before the meeting, which Uther seemed to enjoy immensely.
'I'll think about it,' he said with a faint smile on his face, before the Nameless could ask him.
'Just don't take too long...' the masked man growled at him, and his next sentence was addressed to everyone: 'I consider this meeting closed. The preparations for phase three will begin tomorrow. I need...'
Suddenly, he fell silent and became almost statuesque, looking at something that no one else has noticed. Seeing his reaction, the others, with the exception of Quirinus, immediately drew their wands, as if the Nameless had sent them a silent message.
In the next moment thousands of birds burst from the trees of the forest surrounding the clearing, so many that they covered the starry sky like an impenetrable cloud, and their terrifying squawks, caws, chirps and shrieks exploded with the force of a cannon shot. Quirinus howled inarticulately, clutched his head, and fell to the ground, writhing there in agony at the sound.
Then the dense cloud of feathers and flesh from the winged beasts came crashing straight at the Nameless - the other sorcerers raised their wands defensively, but the birds ignored them.
There was a single moment, a fleeting second, when the Nameless seemed to collapse under the flapping of wings; then a metallic screech broke the din, and with it hundreds of thin needle-like swords pierced the flying creatures' bodies.
'Ahhhhhhh...!' Quirinus cried out again in agony, as bitterly as if the birds' squawking was causing him physical pain.
The loud screech drowned out the popping sound as another figure apparated in the middle of the circle of people, right in front of the Nameless. They both raised their wands simultaneously, pointing them at each other's heads, and the others in the circle followed suit with a moment's delay. Soon each of their wands was pointing at the two men in the middle.
When the noise of the fleeing birds had died away, the Nameless spoke in a whisper:
'I have been waiting for you, Lord Harlam...'
'I was also looking forward to our meeting. You've been avoiding me a lot lately. Such a great sorcerer is surely not afraid of me, is he?'
The newcomer was younger than any of the wizards present, but he too wore the blood-red robes of the lords and ladies of the Fourth Tower. His dark hair blew wildly in the wind, but his gaze was as steady as the metal mask of the man opposite him.
'I am afraid...' nodded the Nameless at his words, 'I'm afraid I'll have to kill such a young talent if he doesn't control his tongue and his temper...'
'You killed my brother!' the wizard called Harlam roared.
In the background, Miguel laughed gleefully at him, as if he could think of nothing more ridiculous than getting revenge for someone.
The Nameless sighed wearily, and nodded.
'Don't pretend to care about your brother,' he said while shaking his head. 'You left your family years ago to come among us.'
The young man did not answer this time, but stepped aside, and so did the Nameless. Slowly, they circled around to face each other, surrounded by the wands of the other sorcerers.
'The Fourth Tower took you in when you had nowhere else to go,' the Nameless continued to whisper. 'Even though we should have killed you... The grandson of a Nurmengard martyr, descendant of a hero of the alliance against Grindelwald - not a good recommendation for our Circle, boy.'
But Harlam barely heard what he said.
'What has my brother done to you? He had nothing to do with the Tower. Why did you kill him?! ANSWER ME!' he bellowed to the masked man.
The Nameless sighed, as if he had had enough of the war of words, and simply shrugged.
'He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually, I had nothing against your brother. When I was at Durmstrang as Ulatov, he was my favorite student... But I couldn't afford to have witnesses.'
Behind him, Marius listened curiously, and his wand-holding hand slowly lowered. Jarmila blinked nervously at Uther, who stood next to her, waiting with almost eager anticipation to see if the battle between the two would break out. Miguel was also enjoying the show, his grin revealed a trace of amusement on his face.
'For what it's worth, I'm sorry...' said the Nameless again, surprising Cerberus, who had been staring at Harlam with disdain. 'Think carefully about what you're doing, Harlam. I do not often utter that word! If I were you, I'd turn around and walk away,' he waved his head towards the forest. 'I'll let you go for now - but if you can't control your anger, there'll be no escape. Look around you!'
Harlam glanced at Cerberus, Miguel and Marius standing behind the Nameless. Quirinus soon rose from the ground as he regained his composure and joined the trio.
'You know what just happened here?' the Nameless continued. 'They're on my side now. You should have intervened earlier, before I convinced them...'
'You haven't convinced everyone!'
For the first time, the Nameless took his eyes off Harlam and looked at Uther, who was approaching with his wand raised. The red-haired man pointed the weapon at him and smiled.
'You said a lot today, Nameless. Great sounds, grand visions and big plans - but you know, none of them really appealed to me. I think I would find a world like you dream of boring. A world of order and power... It's not for me. In such a world, the sorcerer grows weary, his knowledge fatigued, for he grows complacent with hundreds of servants obedient to his command. I'm not on your side.'
Harlam didn't dare to look back at the sorcerer, but he gaped slightly at what Uther said. Now the participants were slowly splitting into two, Jarmila alone not backing either of them, neutrally withdrawing from the hostilities.
'You are a fool!' Cerberus fumed from behind his inferi at Uther, his grey hair falling in his face, covering half his eyes. He looked as angry as if he had been personally wronged.
'An amateur necromancer shouldn't call me a fool!' Uther replied furiously. 'Do you think I don't see that the Nameless has bought you with a large pile of money to put you and your even more pathetic brother in Voldemort's place? So shut your mouth, because I can tear you to pieces with a flick of my wrist!'
Cerberus fell silent, and cast a nervous glance at the Nameless in front of him, but he ignored him and the others who were lined up behind him.
'There will be no bloodshed today,' he declared, 'but you and Harlam are now considered our enemies. In the future, there will be no mercy when we meet...'
'We are ready!' Harlam shouted fiercely.
Miguel laughed again, but this time Cerberus and Quirinus joined him; only the raven-haired Marius did not find Harlam's anger humorous, and did not laugh at it. The Nameless did not bother with the young man raising a wand to his head anymore, he was only glaring at his red-haired partner, which only made Harlam angrier - but he dared not attack.
'You've always waited for this, haven't you, Uther?' the Nameless asked him. 'You missed your chance with Voldemort, so now you want to test your strength against me.'
But Uther shook his head.
'No. Harlam will be dealing with you. And then Harlam and I will fight our own duel to see who is the strongest.'
The Nameless lowered his wand and stepped back.
'Then it's settled. Stay out of our way!' he roared, and wasted no more words on them. 'Marius! Cerberus! We are leaving!'
All of them disapparated from the hilltop, the Nameless and the wizards who agreed to join him. The popping sound of their combined disapparation filled the jungle with echoes, dying out slowly, giving way to the nightly squeaks of animals, the incessant chirping of crickets. Uther, Harlam and Jarmila were left alone in the clearing. The witch now went to the two men and took Uther by the elbow.
'So that's all that matters to you?' she looked reproachfully into his eyes as she forcefully turned him towards her. 'Did you only join the Fourth Tower to meet worthy opponents? Nothing else matters but the fight?'
The red-haired man smiled slightly and nodded. Jarmila shook her head and gave him a disapproving grunt, as if she couldn't understand how anyone could think like that.
'I always suspected you were not a very complicated character... But in fact you are the simplest person I have ever met in my life.'