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Chapter 36 – Blood, Magic, and Blood Magic

Lord Voldemort was annoyed, quite angry, and royally pissed off. And that state had lasted for several days already. Since he had been disgracefully thrown through the window, in fact. It had taken two days for his followers to find him a replacement wand, and he was also furious about its inappropriateness. And all this was because of a mad plan to subjugate Harry Potter and the boy's response to it. He had inflicted a huge setback to Voldemort's forces, killing around fifteen Death Eaters and wounding twice as many, several of whose were still in a critical state. Of the casualties, several Death Eaters, like Mulciber and Travers, came from Voldemort's inner circle, and that had angered the Dark Lord even more. His remaining followers had been authorized to vent their frustration on the boy, by Voldemort, with the intent of breaking his will enough to either push him to their side, or kill him.

Harry Potter wasn't dying, although he wanted to. Now that he had exacted his revenge, his thoughts always involved Ginny and his sorrow. He was slowly becoming mad. His precious membrane-like mental shield had held for two days, but the constant onslaught of pain caused it to crackle, and he began to feel the true extent of the Cruciatus, on top of totally losing the notion of passing time. He also started to lose his control on his other powers.

He was seeing double most of the time, his magical eye and his elemental vision working at the same time. Because of this, he noticed his raw nerve endings, and understood the Cruciatus curse better than anyone. He couldn't do anything about it, though, being constantly subjected to it.

The unhealthiest effect of the pain was the result of the numerous Cruciatus curses on his shape-shifting abilities, associated with the wounds caused by more conventional, and bloody, methods of torturing. When Harry was in the throes of the pain curse, these wounds opened widely, tearing his flesh until muscles were hanging and bones showing. The sight generally disturbed the youngest Death Eaters, but some of the most hardened ones went on, until he was bleeding heavily on the unforgiving floor.

Because of the intense strain on his body, his skin and hair slowly lost their pigmentation, becoming a dirty ashen colour for the former, and a dull white for the latter. And of course, his throat was raw to the blood because of his constant screaming.

The colour, noticed by Voldemort in one of his visits to the boy, reminded him of another prisoner, and he imagined that it would be interesting to organize a get-together of the two school enemies. Therefore, an hour afterwards, an unconscious Draco Malfoy was dragged in Harry's cell before being chained to the opposite wall. Draco was already mad, though, and he didn't react to Harry's presence at all. Harry himself was unconscious at that moment, so the little show that Voldemort wanted had to wait for a Death Eater to ennervate him. The two boys, of whose one had a man's body, looked at each other but didn't utter a word at all, each being lost in his own world of pain, despair, and madness.

It wasn't until every black-robed wizard left, leaving the two alone, that Draco's eyes lit with something. Struggling against the chains, he advanced toward the prone teenager, until he was blocked in the middle of the room.

"Potter! Come here!" he whispered urgently.

When it was clear that the other boy wasn't going to react at all, he closed his eyes and slumped in defeat. Half a second afterwards, though, he straightened up, and looked at Harry again. His normally grey eyes had faded to a light blue shade, and he spoke with a voice deeper that his usual one.

"Harry Potter! Crawl if you must but do come here!"

The called teenager started and blinked. His vision was still going haywire, and he didn't recognise the person in front of him.

"Hurry! We don't have much time! They'll be back in five minutes!"

Struggling to stay conscious, Harry followed the voice, creeping toward Malfoy. He had to stop a few times to gather whatever remained of his strength, but finally arrived at the limit of his chains, four feet from Draco.

"Harry, hear me out. It's important and you must stay conscious. This man" he said, indicating himself, "has agreed to lend his concourse to help you survive this ordeal with your sanity intact. You'd live otherwise, but that'd be all. We are far away, but they didn't chain his legs. I'll lie on the floor, and you are going to bite his ankle. Do you understand?"

Harry was looking at Draco owlishly, not understanding who he was and what he was doing.

Sighing, Draco repeated, while sitting then lying on the stony floor. "Bite this ankle, Harry. You need it. Bite it... and drink from it. Bite this ankle, Harry..."

Hypnotised by the voice, Harry inched near the proffered naked ankle and bit it. Because of his lack of strength, it didn't cut the skin. Realizing it, the entity possessing Draco's body brought his legs back to the rusty chains holding his arms together. Hitting one with the other, he succeeded in drawing a bit of blood. That wasn't much, but better than nothing. Repeating his exhortations, he extended the legs again.

Harry bit again, but this time, there was blood already. He licked it tentatively, and an old hunger awakened immediately in him. His eyes flashed, and his jaw acquired some strength, snapping the skin open in one bite. The flow of blood which entered his stomach was steady and strong, despite Draco's weakened state.

Despite the blond teenager's earliest style of life, he hadn't experienced anything with the fair sex, and was considered a virgin in this aspect.

And it was true that virgin's blood was the most powerful for a thirsty vampire, or part-vampire. If the virgin had been female, it would have been even stronger, but Harry wasn't one to complain. He feasted on the other's body as if he hadn't eaten in days. Which was true, in fact.

Never before had Harry drunk blood from a human, especially not a wizard. The blood was intoxicating, and Draco, or the entity possessing him, had to kick him and pull on his own chains at the same time before being able to escape Harry's clutching hands. Draco's body was on the verge of exhaustion, now, and had just the strength to utter a last comment before falling unconscious.

"Now... use Lightning... to shield... the curse... discreetly... use it to... recover..."

Harry, a little better than before, understood the man's words and, licking Draco's last drop of blood from his mouth, he returned to lie in his corner just as a click resounded in the room.

Two Death Eaters entered, wands ready for the usual torture session.

Now that Harry was only simulating unconsciousness, he heard the dark wizards' words, and had to stifle a gasp when he understood what they were talking about.

"...and, after the Minister published his new law, they gathered the known werewolves, and killed them all." the first one was saying.

"When? I didn't read that in the papers." whined the other, audibly younger. "I so wanted to kill one!"

"The Master's spies reported it today; it should be in the papers tomorrow."

"So there's no more howling beast on the outside now?"

"There are a few, but reports say that it's only a tenth of their original number."

"Well, it's for the better, I say."

"Agreed. Now, let's take care of our little charge."

The two wizards chuckled darkly before one of them cast the pain curse on Harry. The teenager was shocked at the earlier dialogue, and he wanted desperately to ask question about Remus and Arthur. He couldn't fight yet, though, and had to wait. Malfoy had warned him of what to do, and he expected the curse. Knowing he had to keep the charade, he screamed and trashed around, but his now intimate knowledge of how the spell worked allowed him to reroute the pain messages from his nerves toward his elemental energy pool instead of his brain. After all, nerve messages were electricity too.

The two wizards continued to work the curse on him, unknowingly recharging his batteries.

In a dusty and unordered office...

"The book is wrong."

Hermione staggered back, blinking at the man in front of her, who had just uttered the terrible sentence. Never in her whole life had she put more trust than in books. Never had she thought of considering a book wrong. Her research from last year had allowed Snape to add to another book's content, not modify it. But the wizard in front of her was knowledgeable, especially in that domain, and if he said the book was wrong... well, she was completely lost.

"Sir?"

Albus Dumbledore, Master Alchemist, and only other person in the office, smiled sadly at her. "Imagine that the knowledge that Blood Magic was performable on everyone without a preliminary sample of their blood."

She reflected about it for a second, eliciting another smile from the old professor. Albus had been sure that Hermione, told to reflect about knowledge, would do it. She raised her head and gazed at him frightfully.

"That would cause chaos."

"Exactly. So, the books have been edited to protect the public."

"But we can find him, then? How?"

"The blood ritual is only harder if it's not his own blood. The difficulty increases with the difference between the target and the blood used."

"We have to find the closest blood relative, then... that means... Megan?"

"I'm sure that young Miss Prunner will gladly provide some blood to find her brother. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she'd be subjected to a blood ritual, if I recall correctly."

Hermione had the grace to blush, before nodding. "I'll fetch her, sir. I mean... is her fireplace still connected to the Floo system?"

Dumbledore shook his head, and his real age showed a bit more than before. Turning around to look through the window, he spoke slowly. "The Minister revoked all access from non-pureblood families. He invoked the lack of magical security measures in the muggle neighbourhoods. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he's in league with Voldemort." He kept silent for several seconds, before lowering his head, muttering "In fact, I don't know better. Arthur has switched. But... how? And why?"

"I believe I can answer this question, professor." answered a male voice.

Although the creaky door was still closed, a fatigued George Weasley was standing in front of them, smiling tiredly.

After the initial shock of seeing someone else in the office, Dumbledore quickly recovered his wits.

"How did you enter?"

"I think it wasn't your initial question, professor," answered George. "Besides, my family is there too. Share a password?"

Dumbledore looked at the cheeky boy in shock, and absently gave him the password. "Righteous."

"Of course." answered George, before opening the door and shouting the password. A few seconds afterwards, Fred and Ron Weasley walked through the doorway, holding an exhausted Molly between them.

"Sweet Merlin! What happened?" asked Dumbledore.

The Weasleys didn't answer for a while. They seated Molly in the couch, before turning back toward the old professor. "Food." croaked Ron.

"What my brother wanted to ask politely, professor, is for us to get a bit of food and drink." Fred said, ignoring Ron's glare. "But, as you can see, we aren't in the best condition, and our little brother is a little parched."

"Of course." answered Albus, before calling "Mondy! Dimmy!"

To the two house-elves who appeared, he ordered to bring food and drinks for the four Weasleys. After they disappeared, he fire-called Madam Pomfrey to make a full health check on them.

While they ate, Albus created a round-trip portkey to the Prunners' place. Hermione left quickly, returning with Megan and her parents. The Prunners were no-nonsense muggles who thought it strange for a powerful professor to need an insignificant student for anything, especially during the summer. Hermione had felt forced to reveal a little of her intentions and, despite understanding the need, they demanded to watch the full ritual and Hermione, for speed's sake, had agreed. She also told them that they could live in the school for a few days, and that there were going to be other muggles there already. Hermione's parents, namely.

When the Grangers had reached their house after the trip back from Greece, they had only found a pile of rubble. Hermione had sought her Headmistress, asking to be relocated and the accident investigated. Snape had then made a quick trip on the place, and had found dark magic residues, which led to the conclusion that Death Eaters knew about her and her family. Minerva had then agreed to lodge her parents as well.

Hermione shook herself, dismissing her distressing memories, and activated the portkey. After a quick round of introductions, the three Prunners sat on a conjured couch; Hermione sat at the desk, activating a Quick-Notes quill; and Poppy accompanied an exhausted and depressed Molly to the Hospital wing. The Weasleys brothers then began to relate their hectic return from Romania, shedding some light on the Minister's new way of acting.

Afterwards, Hermione explained the situation about Harry and Ginny, and the need for the closest relatives for a Blood Ritual allowing to locate someone. The Weasley twins proposed themselves immediately, while Ron looked lost in thoughts. Megan looked at her parents for their approval and then proposed herself too. Two chances were better than one.

A few hours later, Fred and George were crying silently, looking at the result displayed by the ritual. According to Hermione's interpretation, their only sister was dead. Albus, despite his tired state, confirmed this, and they all looked at Megan's resulting shapes of smoke expectantly.

It displayed a town, seen from above. The smoke moved several times, showing nearer and nearer views of the destination. After the whole town, it displayed its main street, in the centre of which stood a proud statue of a man with an eagle on his shoulder and a hanging rope in his right hand. The viewpoint then zoomed on one of the street's buildings, a small cottage, looking cosy despite the locked shutters. They then saw a complex maze of corridors, surely not the cottage's inside unless it was enlarged, and a place in the maze looked brighter as if it was their target. The last scene showed a body, unmistakably Harry's, lying on a stone bench, with two wizards aiming their wands at him.

The smoke had long since cleared before the onlookers dared speaking again. If what they saw was true, Harry wasn't very happy about the situation. Understatement of the millennium.

However, they had several hints about his location and, using a pensieve to replay the stone scenes at will, they began to search between the few wizard settlements at first, and didn't find one matching. They then started to look through the muggles towns, and, after a full day of them browsing through tomes of historical figures worthy of a statue, Fred shouted in joy. To the others who had stopped their reading, he spoke the paragraph aloud.

...and, despite Sir Jonas Hangle being the known murderer of sixteen innocent virgins, he brought victory and fame to the crown in the numerous skirmishes against the Scottish Highlanders, using his magic to win easily against his many opponents. The town around his ancestral home, which was later expanded into a manor, has been named Hangletown in his honour, in the year 1749. Fifty years later, the wizarding population, distraught by the Lord's constant use of the Dark Arts, brought down the manor's walls and the man died in it. He was a powerful figure, though, and is still seen as a hero by the muggles. He is often represented with his pet eagle and the rope with which he hung the people who disobeyed him.

He looked up, and noticed that Hermione wasn't in the raptly listening people around him. She had left for another part of the Library, and quickly came back with another book, titled "Olde World Atlas". She slammed the heavy book on the table, quieting the whispering about Fred's discovery, and began browsing through it.

When she arrived on a map of Great Britain, she pointed her wand on it, and spoke. "Locatio Hangletown."

A light escaped her wand, and explored the page quickly until it returned to the wand. From the page, two names were now written in sparkling gold.

Little Hangleton.

Greater Hangleton.

"Why-" started Megan, but Hermione interrupted her.

"These two towns are close to each other, and no doubt one had taken its name from the other. The name isn't exactly the same, but we know that, etymologically, the suffix -town has often been shortened in -ton, especially in town names."

She looked at the four other teenagers intently.

"We have our target, now. Let's plan."

And they did.

A while later...

It had been a good plan. Sound and foolproof. But Murphy's Law kicked again and the plan had revealed its lack of damnfoolproofness. The Death Eaters guarding the building had made an unexpected toilet break, and the three teens had been caught.

Hermione pulled at the chains in anger, but only succeeded in harming herself furthermore. Defeated, she slumped against the wall, wishing for the umpteenth time to have listened to Ron's advice of waiting a few days. Fred and George were chained too, and George wasn't able to pass through the rusty metal holding his hands. At least, Megan wasn't held prisoner, being forbidden to come by Hermione.

She sighed, and shuddered in fright. The Death Eaters who had just left had described their incoming rounds of torture, and she wasn't looking forward to it. Not at all. George was restless, and Fred was still unconscious, a result from his wounds.

They didn't know that, at the same time, two supposed enemies were reaching an agreement.

Harry looked at the old man, clad in expensive dark green robes. He didn't trust him. Because of his still weakened state, he couldn't go through the man's mental shields, but the man's demeanour, screaming his disgust, was a clear indication of his feelings.

The man's proposal, though, despite reeking of treachery, was interesting enough to take into account. He had learnt, through the Death Eaters' gloating insults, that his friends had been captured during the night, and the man in front of him just proposed to help him free them. Only him would help him in the enlarged maze of corridors, knowing where they were held and where was the exit.

He could have waited to replenish his energy a few days, but Voldemort was almost completely healed and had a new wand, and he didn't want to tempt fate.

"Okay. I'll do it. Mr... ?" said Harry.

The man hesitated. It wasn't the first time that a wizard asked his name, and he knew that he couldn't give it unless he wanted a riot. He couldn't really lie to Harry, though, as the boy's ancestor had put a spell on him so that he couldn't lie to his bloodline.

"Call me... Sly."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, but he shrugged. "Okay, Mr Sly. So... what do you want me to do?"

Sly smiled. "I know some things about you. You can change your body and face and, with the current security measures around the Ministry, you are the only one able to enter the building under the identity of the Minister."

"But... why would I do that?" asked Harry, still flabbergasted about the man's knowledge of his powers.

"Weasley is terrorizing everyone there, and granted himself access to all the services. By entering the building with his face, you'll be able to enter them as well."

"What for? What do you need me for?"

"There is an item belonging to me, and it had been taken away. It looks like a pensieve, but it's bigger, and its content is ashen. When you find it, under no circumstance will you bring the content to your head."

"Why?"

"Well... let's just say... it's not exactly memories."

"What is it, then?" Harry's was curious about the man's reluctance, and that made him more eager to know about it.

"I can't tell you. You wouldn't believe me, anyway."

"Try me. We're going to be partners in this, so I'd better know everything about it. I won't move from here until you tell me."

Sly sighed. The boy's innate stubbornness, undoubtedly inherited from his many-times-grandfather, was starting to wear on him.

"Very well. But I warned you. Keep yourself in check afterwards. I'll project some thoughts in your mind to better explain, and to show you the item as well. Ready?"

"As ready as one can be."

"Legilimens."

Sly was a tad shocked upon seeing Harry's mind defence, but he sent the chosen memories nonetheless. The fact that the pensieve wasn't a pensieve but a soul repository. The fact that he, Sly, needed it to live. The fact that Sly created the Dementors and the Adava Kedavra spell for the unique goal of filling the item. The fact that one's soul could be exchanged with another and that what had certainly happened to the Minister. Sly then extracted himself from the boy's mind, and witnessed Harry as he exited the trance. To the man's surprise, the boy wasn't angered or anything. Actually, he was... ecstatic?

"Is it true?" asked Harry, a large smile on his face.

"What?"

"What you sent me! Is it true?"

"Yes. And don't think you can make me die if you don't fetch it for me! I would ask Riddle to level the whole building, but he's too concerned by his dreams of grandeur to help me at the moment. It would only take me more time, and you'd be dead in between. So. What do you say?"

Harry thought about it. Hard. But he was still smiling.

"I agree, but I have one condition."

"What could you ever ask as condition?"

"You have to release each and every soul which belonged to an innocent victim, and give some particular ones to me."

Sly thought about it, and reflected that, because of the many Azkaban prisoners' souls in the receptacle, as well as the early victims of the spell, not all of them being spotless, he would still have enough to live for several centuries.

He looked at the expectant face looking up at him, and smirked. "Agreed."

"And I want to see you doing it."

The man's thin eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was Harry doubting his word? Was he more Slytherin that his ancestry suggested? He had perhaps misjudged the boy... He nodded slowly, however, wanting the deal on its tracks.

"Last thing," said Harry, "how do I know you aren't going to join Voldemort afterwards?"

"I don't partake in his power lust. I wanted him to help me getting the souls vessel, but he wouldn't listen, even after I helped him. I just want to live freely and to explore the world. It must have changed in the last... since my imprisonment."

"Why were you imprisoned?"

"It's amusing that you, of all people, ask me the question."

"Why?"

"Still that stubborn?" At Harry's frantic nod, he sighed, and continued. "I might tell you one day, after we finish this."

"Okay, then." said Harry, suddenly serious. "Let's go hunting."

"Wait. Take this."

He gave Harry a medallion in the form of a snake.

"I finished making this yesterday, but, because of the new Ministry's regulation, I can't enter to use it. If you put it in your palm, it will turn toward the device."

Harry thanked him with a silent nod, and they prepared to leave. They didn't have time to move much, though, as two sets of footsteps, accompanied with Death Eater voices, approached the cell door. Harry looked at Sly, who nodded back before retreating in the farthest corner of the room.

The two men entered, before closing the door behind them. They then walked toward the lying body of Harry, intent on continuing their torture. However, when Harry turned over, a wide smile on his face, they staggered back.

"Dormare."

The two black-robed wizards fell in an undignified heap on the floor, revealing a smirking Sly behind them.

They disrobed them and Harry changed into black robes, agreeing to Sly crudely transfiguring one of them into Harry, adding glamour charms to complete the illusion.

Harry stood up, and looked at the prone form of the older-looking Draco Malfoy. Since his gift of blood, the man hadn't woken up, and was shivering on his straw bed. Harry looked at Sly.

"Can you levitate him? The wands of these two idiots don't work with me."

The man looked at him, then at Malfoy, then back at him. "Why would you help a Malfoy? I thought you were a Gryffindor?"

Despite the audible venom behind his ancestor's name, Harry smirked. "He helped me, I'm repaying a debt."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, otherwise, I stay here." said Harry, his stubborn pout in place as he sat down again.

The man looked at him in appraisal. After several seconds, he aimed his wand at Draco. "Corpus Mobile."

Harry looked surprised at the man's use of unusual incantations, but hid it and stood next to him at the cell doorway.

They then navigated their way in the corridors. When they met a patrol of six Death Eaters, Sly told them they were bringing the unconscious Malfoy into another cell. They knew about Sly's presence, on the premises, so they didn't say anything when they passed them.

Harry and Sly heard the screams from several corridors away, and Harry wanted to run, but Sly held him back, shaking his head. The boy understood that they had to surprise their opponents, and quietly followed Sly. They walked quicker, though.

The three Death Eaters who were taking their pleasure torturing the teens didn't perceive the entrance of the two intruders, and fell down quickly, two of them victims of Sly's sleeping spell while one was stunned by an intense burst of electricity from Harry.

Even after freeing them from the chains, it took a while to calm Hermione and the Weasley twins, and Harry made good use of his elemental vision and powers to block the pain messages that were still coursing through the teens' bodies. After a few minutes, they finally were able to stand more or less upright and, searching the prone bodies that were once again transfigured to take their place, they found wands more or less useable to defend themselves. Sly used his own to cast silencing spells on their feet, as well as disillusionment spells, and they finally left the room, locking the door after them.

The group passed through the maze of corridors again, meeting a few patrols on the way, and Sly used the same excuse as earlier, pretending to move Draco into another cell. Only when they neared the exit did he cast a disillusionment spell on him too, and they advanced into the cottage's entrance corridor...

...only to find themselves in front of ten wands raised their way.

"What are you doing with them?" asked a cold female voice, dripping with contempt.

The question was obviously directed at Sly, for he just shrugged, hiding his wand motion.

"Protecto." he uttered, while the teenagers following him prepared themselves.

The younger team was disadvantaged by numbers, energy, and experience. They were also unable to resist the unblockable curses sent their way. Harry resisted the Cruciatus, but the effort of redirecting the pain messages took out his mobility and awareness. He was only aware of several spell beams passing by. Only when the Cruciatus stopped was he able to focus on his surroundings again.

And he gasped. Fred and George were on the ground, half-buried in rubble undoubtedly from an explosion curse. Draco was in the same state as before. Sly was still battling the Death Eaters despite being the target of several spells at the same time. And Hermione...

Hermione was slumped next to him. Unmoving and not breathing. He suddenly remembered the green beam headed his way, and a shape getting in the way.

He knew that something had to be done. He knew that something could be done. But he had had enough of this mindless fight to think properly right now.

"Who do you think you ARE?" he yelled, tears threatening, and the welling emotions making his head swim. The Death Eaters weren't part of the ones in the throne room when he had portkeyed inside, and they failed to take heed of his glinting eyes.

Sly recognized the signs, though, and retreated out of Harry's way.

It was a good decision, because a split second afterwards, several lightning bolts shot forward from Harry, shocking half of the Death Eaters into unconsciousness, and burning the other half heavily. Only two remained standing afterwards, although they were quite stunned at the display. Harry fell down afterwards, breathing heavily, having spent a good deal of his elemental energy, leaving Sly to take care of the remaining dark wizards.

Sly exited the cottage, sure now that he would never be allowed inside again. Not that he couldn't find a way in, though. But he didn't care. His only thought, now, was his precious soul vessel.

Levitating the bodies of everyone except Harry, who was holding his arm to stand, he walked down the street, only to find himself in front of another row of wizards aiming their wands at him.

"Whoever you are, drop your wand and release the kids, and you won't be harmed!" shouted a stern female voice, visibly used to obedience. Harry and Sly then made the exact same gesture: they rolled their eyes, although it was for different reasons. Harry thought that old professor McGonagall was perhaps taking herself too seriously. And Sly... let's just say that his long imprisonment had made him rather disobedient toward this particular kind of order. He turned toward Harry.

"Remember our deal. I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow evening."

That left just a bit more than 24 hours for Harry to rest, get himself a weapon and a plan, and actually retrieve the device. The teen nodded, though. He felt he owed it to everyone who died unjustly. Seeing Harry's nod, Sly levitated the bodies down, straightened up...

...and disappeared.

As soon as he left, the teenagers were swarmed with adults guessing their state, shouting at one another to bring healing tapes, or a potion or two. Harry kneeled next to Hermione, and let his tears finally flow. He knew he had to find the strange object Sly had described, but he wasn't sure if it was working at all. He wanted Hermione back. He wanted Ginny back. Speaking of whom...

"Harry, where is Ginny?"

He looked up, and saw Albus Dumbledore's pained face. The man had difficulties to stand up, and was sitting on a levitating chair, the charmed seat flying him wherever he wanted. The pain wasn't physical, then, and Harry suspected that the man already knew about her fate. He wasn't ready to tell him everything, though, and merely shrugged, before turning to Hermione again.

"Is she...?"

Harry thought about it. On the one hand, he didn't want to tell Dumbledore about the pensieve, fearing that the man would prevent him from going there. On the other hand, the man perhaps already knew about it, and he would be of invaluable help. He went for a mixed truth.

"She's not dead... yet." he said in a strained voice.

Albus looked at the lack of breathing, the whiteness and stillness of the prone teenager, and, short of a medical examination, couldn't find any hint of life.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I have to do something... to release her. And I have to do it quickly. Can I use your fireplace for a trip in Diagon Alley tomorrow? And can you host everybody at the Hospital Wing in the meantime? Fred and George were hit by an explosion curse, I think."

"You don't want to talk about what you have to do?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I really can't." judging by McGonagall's earlier words of welcome toward Sly, he supposed that they wouldn't be keen of him gallivanting in the Ministry under an assumed identity to retrieve a cursed item. And Harry wanted the man alive and free so that he could release the bargained souls.

"Ah, well. We aren't that far from Hogwarts, and the Hospital Wing is available for you and your friends, of course." The man's gaze went to the blond form lying with the others. "Do you know anything about Mr Malfoy's state?"

"No, sir." answered Harry. It was the only answer he could produce without squirming under the inquisitive gaze of his previous Headmaster.

Half an hour after everybody left Little Hangleton, an angry shout could be heard in the whole village.

In a small room between two opposite kingdoms...

"Why did you help them?" asked one of the players.

The other man looked around. The room's walls were now displaying several modern art paintings. "Thou hast thine time to do so, so did I." he answered absently.

The other one returned to the contemplation of the chess board.

After a few minutes, the older-looking man spoke up again. "Had I not, the whole game would have been a moot point. I cannot afford to lose my most important piece right now. Besides, thou art the one who suggested to our little thief to ally with him."

"Well... I knew that your protégé would have asked for the removal of several hundreds of souls." Thirteen sighed. "Sometimes, I wish we could intervene bodily on that wretched planet."

"Thou knoweth we cannot. The rules have been set up way before our arrival. Back to the lost souls problem, dost thou have a plan to recover them?"

The black-clad androgyn looked up and smirked at his counterpart. "I might just have the one."

The next morning, Hogwarts' infirmary...

Harry had arrived in the Hospital Wing the afternoon before, in a weakened state, and Madam Pomfrey had given him several replenishing potions, seeming to struggle all the time between protective attitude and acid comments. After sipping a Dreamless Sleep potion, though, Harry had escaped her protectiveness for a well-deserved rest. After sleeping for twelve hours straight, Harry woke up as soon as the sun hit the window, and went to leave the infirmary. However, when he opened the door, he found himself face-to-face with Minerva McGonagall. He hadn't heard the stern woman's approach, but reflected that it might be normal for a cat animagus not to make noise while walking. He wondered if he could speak about shape-shifting with her. Perhaps, when everything would be taken care of, they would have an interesting conversation. For now, though, it was only strained, as she still wasn't over his constant disappearances and lack of respect.

"Morning, Mr Potter."

"Good morning, Professor."

"Care for breakfast?"

"Of course."

They walked toward the Great Hall in silence for a few minutes, until Minerva couldn't hold it anymore.

"What were you thinking, really, going there like that? If we hadn't sent a rescue mission, you-"

He snorted, interrupting her. "Rescue mission? I'll tell you what happened. As soon as I arrived, Ginny was killed. For Voldemort, she was there only to catch me. I couldn't do anything about it, but I think I avenged her death." He stopped and sighed, before continuing. "They tortured me for that, though." he said, indicating his white hair.

Several seconds went by, before he walked again, with his former teacher on his side. "The children who came to save me were caught and tortured as well. Only thanks to... to the man you saw outside, were we able to escape."

"Who is he, Harry?"

He looked at the floor. "I don't know. I really don't know. But I get the vague impression that I should know him, somewhat."

The breakfast went by in silence, the other teachers not used to see Harry and not knowing what had happened. As soon as it was finished, Harry went to the Headmistress' office, where he could Floo outside. Minerva, who had reconstructed the stone gargoyle thanks to the castle's own magic, didn't want it destroyed a second time and ran to his side.

Outside, they found Albus who apparently had had breakfast early in his office and who seemed to want a chat with Harry. Minerva had to yell the password for the gargoyle to open – being quite new, its hearing was still difficult – and they climbed the ascending stairs, the two younger ones helping Dumbledore on the way.

"So, Harry," started Albus, "I couldn't stop noticing the fact that you didn't appear to have a wand. Besides, if you had, the Ministry would have found you quickly, with their..."

"...truly annoying service of underage magic." finished Harry. "I know, Professor. I seldom used wand magic at all."

Albus seemed interested. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore. This particular talk will need a long time and I'm rather busy today. It will have to wait."

"It's alright, my boy. It can wait. But, as soon as possible, I'd like you to meet Minerva and me first, then the other teachers, to give us your insights about what you can do. The reports..." Albus started, before stopping short, slightly blushing.

Harry chortled. "I know that Hermione informed you of our meetings, sir. I knew that she would when I asked that no teacher was present. I'm sorry but my memories weren't clear and I wasn't quite ready to face some of you." He lowered his head, muttering "I obviously can, now."

The Headmistress, who had listened to that point, had caught the teenager's last sentence and huffed. "That's for sure, you did raise quite the turmoil afterwards, too. Why did you have to break in, though? You could have entered using Hermione's way."

"Hermione's way?" asked Harry, while Albus looked at Minerva with curiosity painted on his face.

"She told me recently that she once talked to the gargoyle as she would have done with her parents' secretary. Just stating one's name and intent seems to be sufficient for the gargoyle to open." She stopped suddenly, putting her finger to her chin. "That was before it was destroyed, though. I wonder if it still works."

"You'll have to try, then." answered Harry. "Now, can I go?"

"A last question, Harry, if you would?" said Dumbledore. "What about Voldemort?"

"What about him? Well... let's start:" said Harry, counting on his fingers. "First, he kidnaps my girlfriend. Second, he kills her before my eyes." Two gasps. "Third, I release an explosion able to kill at least twenty Death Eaters and throw their leader through the window. Judging by the time it took for him to see me afterwards, he must have spent a long time recovering. Fourth, several children come to my rescue but are imprisoned and tortured. Fifth, we are all rescued by a man whom you welcomed with your wands."

"Who is that man, Harry?" asked Minerva.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't tell me his name. He only asked to be called Sly."

"Sly... Sly..." said Dumbledore pensively. He knew that there was something escaping his mind at that moment, and he vaguely nodded when Harry asked the next question.

"Can I go, now, Professors?"

Minerva looked at Albus' thoughtful expression and, sighing, she gave the pot of Floo powder to Harry who took a handful.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Harry." she said in guise of good-bye.

"As always." was the cryptic answer, before Harry threw the powder to his feet, shouting "The Leaky Cauldron."

Minerva sighed, before saying "That's what I didn't want to hear."

She then turned toward Albus, who was frowning, trying to put his finger on the thing that had escaped him. Unsuccessfully.

A bit later...

It was still quite early when Harry entered Gringotts. He had reflected that the Ministry employees would find it strange if their leader would appear too early in the morning, asking bizarre questions. Harry had then thought about spending a short time in Diagon Alley. First, to the goblins to ask if they knew about the location of his grandmother's house. Judging by her journal, it was probably in ruins but, if the indications were accurate, the trapdoor leading to his refuge was there. And he knew the time frame was on par with the reality, so he should be able to enter.

The bank was quite empty, and Harry thought it was due to the early hour, but he quickly found the reason. Or rather, the reason was said to him, quite rudely.

"What do you want, human?" asked the teller he had gone to. "It's a displeasure to serve you today. Especially since your kin wouldn't recognize our rights."

Stunned by the angry outburst, Harry completely forgot why he had come. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, and don't act as if you don't know! It's been plastered on the first page of your rag of a daily so-called newspaper."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said respectfully, and the goblin's ears perked, "but I don't know anything about all that. I was out of the magical world for a while, and, frankly, I'm still off with some of it. And I don't read the rag you mentioned."

The goblin calmed a little. What if the kid was right? Still... "For your information, then, your Minister had issued laws against each and every non-human species, restricting their movement and such. See? We have to wear this symbol on our clothes at all times." he said, pointing to something that had escaped Harry's notice earlier.

A yellow star.

Harry looked at the star with widening eyes and paled, his mind replaying his History class. He tried to speak, but his mouth closed and opened like a fish, and no sound escaped his lips. Either the boy was a good actor, thought the goblin, or he was genuinely shocked.

Harry recovered his usual expression, although a little paler than usual. He now had an additional reason to get to the Minister. With a now intent gaze, flashing with power, he looked at the goblin in front of him.

"I'll take care of that, you have my word."

"And who might you be to take care of the Minister of Magic?" asked the goblin.

Harry looked around to make sure that nobody was looking at him or overhearing, and morphed his features to make his famous scar appear. He wanted to change his eyes and hair back to their usual colour too, but his treatment at the hands of the Death Eaters had cost him much, and he only succeeded in changing his hair from white to a dull grey. When he spoke next, though, it was the goblin's turn to look flabbergasted.

"Harry Potter."

"But... but... Harry Potter is... dead?" the last word was asked with fear in his voice, as if saying it would make the teen disappear, the very teen who had just promised to take care of their current problem. Visibly, the goblin hadn't been made aware of Harry's resurrection.

"I was almost dead, yes. And I wasn't reachable for a long time afterwards. But I'm here, now, and I have one important request."

"Of course, Mr Potter." answered the goblin, retrieving his good manners. After all, if the boy was going to help them, he would help him to the best of his abilities.

"I know goblins keep track of properties as well as vaults, and I need to know the location of my grandmother's house. My father's mother. Her name's Ginevra Shaun."

The goblin wrote something on one of his charmed scrolls and, after several seconds, the answer appeared. The goblin frowned for a second, cleared the scroll, and started again. When the answer came again, the goblin stared at it silently for a long time, until Harry interrupted him. The teen had witnessed the scene but wasn't able to look at the scroll, and he was curious.

"What?"

The goblin looked at him and blinked. He stayed silent for a few more seconds, as if trying to formulate the scroll's content. He finally spoke, looking at the scroll a few times in the process.

"It might come as a surprise. When the house was reduced to rubble, it took quite some time to manage the legalities of your grandmother's death. Someone visibly decided that the spot was a good place to build a house. After all, most wizards prefer a secluded spot, far away from prying muggles."

"Why would my grandmother like a place far from muggles? She was teaching a muggle-related subject."

"She also has a flat in muggle London, but I suspect it's not the place you are looking for. As for the reasons for her liking the place, it's perhaps because it's in the middle of a calm forest."

"Alright. What about the current owner?"

"That is the surprise. It seems that the current inhabitants had decided to build a manor there, without clearing the legalities first. Their house is right next to the ruins of your grandmother's house, because they didn't want to clear them. Or they simply weren't able to. At that time, word has spread that your grandmother was a very special witch, Harry. And if she has cursed her house, nobody would be able to overcome it."

He coughed a bit, and continued. "However, anything built on a private property is deemed to belong to the property's owner, whatever the size of the building. As they are wizards, they quickly built an impressive manor, and certainly hoped to live there for the time being. After all, after 32 years of living on a site, the site is deemed your property."

"Why 32 years? How much time went by?"

"32 years is a quarter of a life. Well... for us goblins, anyway, it's the quarter of our life expectancy. As for how much time... let's see..." he said, reading the scroll intently. "They started to occupy the site soon after your grandmother's death. As if they knew about it already. That happened in September 1972. We are now in August 1994, so that makes... 32 years. Minus one month."

"Why didn't my dad or granddad do anything?"

"Your grandmother wasn't living there full-time." said the goblin, browsing through the scroll again. "She shared her time between it and Potter's place in Godric's Hollow, where you grandfather lived. And your parents, afterwards. The Potters hadn't realized about the other house, and didn't reclaim it."

"Who are the current inhabitants? And is it possible for me to reclaim the place?" Harry asked. Because the Hideaway's mere existence, he knew he had to go there, and the easiest way was to own the house. His qualms about uprooting a wizarding family calmed themselves when he heard the goblin's answer.

"That's why I was surprised at first. They always told everyone that it was their ancestral house. As his father is reputedly dead, the current wizard inhabitant is Draco Malfoy, accompanied with 12 house-elves."

The Malfoys! If he had known about it in his early years, Harry would have had fun expelling them from his grandmother's property. His surprise prevented him from hearing the rest, and he made the goblin repeat.

"As you are the sole heir of your grandmother, you can reclaim it, and the manor would then be yours."

"I'm not sure about living in a place where Malfoys have dwelt..." started Harry, before remembering Malfoy's earlier help, as well as his current state. He hung his head in shame, and promised himself that, even if the house would soon be his, he would let Draco inhabit it. Perhaps the Weasley could be able to use it. After all, they were quite numerous, and the Burrow was barely standing upright.

"Very well. How?" asked Harry.

The goblin smiled at the teen's eagerness and produced the very scroll he had been surprised at. A line was already present at the bottom of it. "By signing this form. We'll then be able to bring you there for your first visit."

"I'll sign. However, I'll go there tomorrow, not today, as I've work to do." said Harry, looking pointedly at the goblin's infamous decoration.

The goblin understood and, after receiving the signed form, wished Harry success in his transactions – a standard goblin parting saying, but it acquired a new meaning that day.

Just before leaving the bank, Harry morphed into Gabriel and headed for Ollivander's. If he wanted to infiltrate the Ministry, he would need a weapon. After entering the now familiar shop, he was greeted by the old man.

"Hey! Gabriel! How are you today, young man? It has been a while since our last meeting. I don't know what you have done with your hair, but that colour doesn't suit you. And you should spend some time under the sun, too."

"...says the man who spends all his time in his back office." Harry joked, despite the burning memories of what had caused his hair and skin's paleness.

"Whatever you say." waved the man as if it wasn't important. "Now, are you ready to make your wand? I already prepared the workplace. Days ago, in fact. And the cores are sufficiently soaked now to be useable."

"I'll do that, then. Can I make two in one go?"

"Ambitious, aren't we? We'll see if you have time."

Harry inspired deeply and exhaled, before going to work under the watchful gaze of Ollivander. As it was his first wands, he was extra careful and focussed. The different wood sticks were in front of him already, properly cut and hollowed on one side by the old man, the other side being the wand handle, already made too. Harry passed his hand on top of them, felt an attraction and closed his eyes to select the proper ones. 12-inch hard teak for the first, and 13-inch supple holly for the second. Like his first wand. He then mixed the core with the appropriate substances and poured the result in the holly wand before corking it with the appropriate transparent glue and letting it rest for the needed hour.

Just as he was going to do the same thing for the second, he got a hunch and looked around for Ollivander to confirm it. The old man had left in the meantime, though, and, judging by the voices he heard at the front of the shop, he was selling a wand. That could take time, and Harry followed his hunch. Taking a knife nearby, he sliced himself and poured a bit of his blood on the core preparation. After healing himself, he poured the bubbling result in the hollowed out teak stick. As he was corking it like the first, he felt that the wand was vibrating with power. Teak was a solid wood, and Harry was quite content with his choice, but he wasn't sure if the wood would hold should he use it. Having another idea, he looked around and noticed several tools cast aside. Some were made of platinum, others were golden, silvery, or just plain steel. It all depended on the wood and core used. As he was looking at the tools, a glint caught his eyes. In a nearby box, several gems were reflecting the light, and Harry remembered Ollivander's current research topic. There was always means to improve wands, and the old man had recently come up with the idea of topping a wand with a crystal. His problem was that he couldn't find a good way to attach the crystal to the wand top. It was either too fragile or plainly blocking the magic. Harry thought that, with metal around it, a wand could be topped with a crystal with no problem.

Harry thought about the compatibility chart Ollivander had taught him, and selected a pair of scissors made of pure platinum, as well as a diamond cut in the form of a lens. He put them on the workspace and headed for the farthest corner of the back office, where rested the potter's stool. The rotating table was there to make moulds for metal handles. Using the appropriate clay and distilled water, it took Harry three tries to make the 12-inch high cast, before he could let it rest in the magical oven nearby for the appropriate fifteen minutes. After that time, Harry took the teak wand with pliers and inserted it into the cast. He then carefully put the diamond lens at the end and took the platinum scissors with trembling hands. From here, he thought, anything could work very fine, fail lamely, or even go completely haywire. Thinking about it, he left the back office and entered the adjoining test chamber. It was a fireproof room, protected from most side effects of spells. In the middle of it, there was a table which top was in the purest marble, and which legs were metal poles encased in both the marble top and the stone floor. Harry put the wand cast on the table and, verifying a last time that the lens was properly positioned and that the wand was in the exact middle of the cast, he concentrated and released his elemental energy into the platinum scissors in his hand. It took him quite a while, but the thing finally began to glow from the heat and melted into the cast. Harry was completely focussed, and the hand who had held the scissors didn't suffer from the heat. The cast cracked a bit under the heat and pressure, but held. When it was finished, Harry exhaled the breath he hadn't been aware of keeping, and sat down, waiting for the platinum to cool off.

During that time, he returned to the back office and listened at the shop. Either there were several customers that day, or it was a difficult one, as at least half an hour had gone between his checks. Harry smiled, remembering the time he had needed to get his first wand. He quickly cleared the workspace and then fetched the book he needed from the small bookcase. It was small but the books there were the only few needed by a wand maker. Reading the section on unusual wand core, Harry confirmed that it was possible to use blood in wand cores, despite the generally unstable results. Using a weak blood generally made the wand useless, while using a strong creature's blood could make the wand explode. The results of using a person's blood really depended on that person, and no serious study had been made on that topic, after the death of three wand makers. However, one particular case had been encountered where the person's blood, although not making the wand any different, prevented anyone else to use it.

After his half-hour of reading, Harry stored the book where it came from and went to his holly wand. He took it with a trembling hand, and was quite satisfied that it felt good instantaneously. He waved it around and sparks appeared, signalling his compatibility. He put it in his pocket, and went to the test room, wondering about the other one. He was half tempted to ask Ollivander to watch over him, but wanted to test his hunches first. He delicately broke the clay cast with a small hammer and took the wand with pliers. The result wasn't really beautiful, and Harry concentrated again, sending heating lightning toward the metal coating the wand. After ten minutes of doing so, the wand was looking quite beautiful, sleek and shiny. His heart pounding in his chest, Harry finally took the wand in his hand.

In the shop proper...

Ollivander was tired. It was quite unusual to have several muggle-born students in his shop at once, but this year, it seemed that several of them knew each other already, and had decided to come with their entire families. On top of selecting wands for the three youngsters, the old man had had to answer the question from the anxious adults and the happy kids. On top of that, it had taken him quite a long time to find a proper wand for them, and he still had the third one to satisfy. He sighed. Purebloods were easier, as they generally followed their parents' tracks, and it left him with half a dozen possibilities only. These ones were... well, let's say it took him a long time. An hour and a half already, and he was desperate to get back to Gabriel's own wand making.

It was during these thoughts, just as the third kid was taking the umpteenth wand in his hand that he felt an enormous surge of magic. The surrounding light went brighter for a few seconds, wind swirled all around, and wands rattled on the counter, some of them falling on the floor.

To Ollivander's alarmed face, the girl in front of him smiled. "That was so cool! It means it's mine, yes?"

The man was stuck in a dilemma, looking like a deer in headlights. Taking the difficult decision, he started to tell them to leave and pushed them to the door, taking the wand from the girl. The surge hadn't come from the girl, but from behind. From his back office. And, judging by its power, it must have been felt a mile around. Just as the adults finally stopped complaining, a voice stopped the old man.

"I'm alright."

Everybody swirled around, noticing the teenage boy standing by the counter, on wobbly legs.

"I'm alright." he repeated, before sitting heavily on the stool nearby.

It took another dozen of tries for the girl to get a proper wand, and Harry felt Ollivander's eyes on his neck all the time. After the families left, he locked the door and closed the curtains before leading Gabriel to the back, looking for traces of the wand making. Gabriel had cleaned everything there, though, and the old man turned around.

"What was it?"

The teenager smiled, and slowly, ever so slowly, he extracted his wand from his sleeve, in front of a shocked man.

"I had three unusual ideas for this one. The other wand is fine with me already, and I wanted to experiment."

"Ideas? Three?" uttered the old man weakly, before sitting on a chair.

"Yes. The first one was to include my blood in the core."

"But... but..."

"I know. I read the book, afterwards. However, judging by the surge you felt, it should work."

"And the other ideas?"

"As soon as I closed it, the wand started to vibrate, and I wanted to ensure the teak wouldn't break with the power."

"Teak is one of the solidest woods used for wands."

"I wanted something to encase it, though, and it allowed me the perfect mean to attach the third idea."

"Which was?"

"Look at the end."

The old man looked, squinting his eyes to see better. When he recognized the glint, his eyes widened and he sat back on his chair.

"You used a gem?"

"Yes. You always found them interesting but fragile. The metal casing allows for enhanced sturdiness."

The old man was speechless for several seconds. "But, how did you... I mean... the metal..."

Harry wasn't sure of how much he could tell the old wizard, but his thoughts were interrupted by an insistent knocking sound coming from the shop door. As they both stood up, a voice came from behind the door. "Open! In the name of the Minister, open that door, old fool! We know you're here!"

Ollivander and Harry looked at each other, before the old man spoke. "I'd better go there. You stay here. They are probably here because of the surge, but I'm sure they want more. The Aurors have changed these last days, and not for the best."

"But... what if..."

"Oh, they'll surely take me with them. Don't do anything foolish. Especially with that wand." he said, pointing to the one with the gem. "I told you about my research, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, hide."

He left Harry and went to the front door. As soon as he opened it, a Stunner hit him and he fell on the ground. While the Aurors' leader advanced toward the man, his wand drawn, the two younger Aurors behind him whispered with one another.

"Are we allowed to attack without reading the riot act, now?"

"It seems that the Minister issued a decree to that extent. Yesterday, I think. It pertains to 'dangerous use of magic' and the culprits are sent to prison right away."

During that brief exchange, their leader took Ollivander's wand and shoved it into his belt, before ordering his two underlings to take the man to the Ministry, where he would be interrogated properly.

The man then strolled inside the empty shop, closed the door, and proceeded to empty the counter of Ollivander's cash register. He didn't notice the approaching teenager until a strange-looking wand was aimed in his way.

"What-" he started, getting his own wand in hand.

He was late, though, and Harry merely muttered the Stunner incantation.

Now, you see, the Stunner isn't generally a Banishing spell. Harry's wand, though, intensified the spell, and the gem at the end acted exactly like Ollivander had predicted. Instead of a spell beam coming from the teenager's wand, a large cone was covered by the spell. And it was so powerful that the man was sent flying in the air until he hit the side wall, before sliding to the ground. Every loose item in the spell cone was also pushed away, and Harry even had to step back because of the recoil.

When everything settled down, only one word escaped Harry's lips.

"Wicked."

Shaking himself awake, he went to the still-breathing man and levitated him into the test room. Once there, he disrobed him, removing the wrist wand holder on the way, recognizing the 'jumping wand' model from his short time at the nearby shop. It was a model equipped with a spring mechanism which, upon a certain wrist movement, made the wand shoot forward. Once the man was completely harmless, he tied him to one of the table's metal legs and moved everything outside of the room.

After fetching a mirror and shedding his own clothes, he returned inside and morphed his features into the man's, before leaving the room again, locking the test room door behind him. He then strapped the wand holders to his wrists and practised the movement allowing the wand to jump to his hand. Once acquainted with them, he put the man's wands on an unidentified shelf and stored his own in the wand holders. He then put on the man's uniform, checked the man's wallet, and stored Ollivander's wand in his belt. He also grasped the store's spare key from its location on the highest shelf of the bookcase.

With a last look around, he exited the back office just as two rookie Aurors in their early twenties entered the shop.

"What?" he snarled.

"Sorry, sir." said one of them, standing at attention.

"The Underage Service signalled a spell cast here."

"I'm alone, here. Do I look like underage to you?" he asked brusquely.

"No, sir."

"Not at all."

They were sweating. The man in front of them was known in the Aurors for his ruthlessness. He had been kept in the lowest ranks for a long time, until the Minister suddenly decided to promote him, and the man was now having the rank of Captain, associated with the privilege of answering directly to the Minister. Harry didn't know about all this, but their frightened state told him of the man's reputation.

"Scamper off, then." he barked. "There's nobody here other than me."

After they left, he positioned the 'Closed' sign and locked the door.

His next and last stop before leaving Diagon Alley was a small shop where he would find the one object necessary for the discreet nature of his quest. Entering the shop under the man's guise, he had to constantly remind himself about not to smile to the gentle storeowners. He quickly found and bought a trunk with the desired properties: shrinkable, with a gravity spell to hold everything correctly inside, and the size of the sought after device. Using a card he had noticed in the man's wallet, he sent the bill to the Ministry, and left with the trunk in his pocket, shrunk to the size of a card deck.

At the Leaky Cauldron, he took a quick lunch under the suspicious gazes of the people around. Visibly, the Aurors didn't seem to get that much respect nowadays, Harry thought. Quickly paying for his meal, he exited the pub through the muggle entrance. After walking the whole way, he found the phone booth and composed the magic number. After a long while, a woman answered, quite surprised. It seemed that few people were using that entry nowadays.

Nevertheless, Harry told the woman the name of the man he was impersonating, and she let him in.

At the same time, in the Headmistress' office...

The old man hadn't moved in the last few hours. His disabled state was a good excuse for it, but the man had simply been sifting through his 150 years of memories, trying to find the elusive one. Even when the house-elves popped in to put a meal on the table in front of him, he didn't move.

A short time afterwards, though, the man's eyes came alive again. They held no sparkle, though, because the shocking thought he had unearthed, after having pushed it on the outskirts of his mind for a long time, was linked with a recent memory.

Albus Dumbledore knew who Sly was. And he didn't want Harry around that particular man.

To be continued in next chapter: Judgement Day...

If you count carefully,
Only two threads remain, now.
I'll unravel them fully
Soon. Please review, and you'll know.