Chapter 57: Faceless
Tuesday April 16th, 1996
"Really, my dear," sighed the Fat Lady. "Haven't you heard me sing that song often enough? I have a whole new set I've been—"
Dean uncomfortably adjusted his grip on the Magic Detector. He almost wanted to tell her to forget the whole thing, they would finish later, but he knew Padma wouldn't like it. "We'd love to listen, but right now we really need a third sample of this song. Please?"
The Fat Lady sighed once more, and then belted out an operatic chord that set Dean's ears ringing. The ball in his hand lit up in a series of bright flickers.
"Did you get it?" asked Dean, glancing over his shoulder.
Padma nodded. "It matches the last FPS I wrote down, exactly."
"Great," said Dean. As she made a few more notes, Dean put away the detector. "So, duelling practice? That fire spell Professor Tonks showed us was complicated, I really need to practice it."
Padma blinked up from her notebook, her quill scurrying on without her. "I thought we were going to talk to Remus Lupin before breakfast?"
"Oh...right," said Dean. "I suppose, umm, that first."
They trudged down the stairs, the castle slowly warming as the morning progressed. They'd started before dawn, as early morning and late afternoon were the only times they could get any work done.
Their first few weeks of research had been productive, to say the least. They'd analysed over 50 portraits in Hogwarts, and it was after they'd tested the 20th that they'd noticed a pattern. While each portrait gave off a variety of different flash patterns (FPS), each portrait had a consistent range. Its FPS range—measured in length between flashes—was unique.
This was a little different from what they'd noticed in spell magic. Each spell had one flash pattern, which was sometimes brighter or duller depending on the intensity in which it was cast. Magical objects usually had more complicated FPS, but there was also only one of them, which seemed to suggest that each had their own unique magical signature.
And not only were they unique, they seemed to naturally sort themselves into groups based on the type of magic. For example, Padma and Dean labeled one group 'Disguise,' and another as 'Transformation.'
Padma was fascinated by it. Most of their conversations revolved around what this data could mean, how it could be used to help people. And while Dean thought this was great and all, he couldn't help feeling like they were focusing on the wrong things. It was starting to wear on him.
"You know," said Padma. "We're really lucky that the professors have been kind enough to let us examine their magical artefacts because if not, it would have taken us years to find the data we've collected in two weeks—"
Dean stopped mid step, halfway on two stairs. "I can't do this."
Padma turned back, her sari swaying slightly with the movement. "What?"
"I can't go on pretending that this is important."
"What are you talking about?" She folded her arms. "Our research is absolutely essential. These patterns we're finding, they're leading us somewhere. It's important that we follow them now, while we have time."
"No, it was important," said Dean, shaking his head. "And someday, it will be important again. But our classmates are dying. We need to focus on defending ourselves and our school."
"Dean, but don't you see? That's what we are doing. Anyone can be a soldier, we're—"
"Anyone can be, but they aren't! You—you just don't get it," Dean turned to the stone wall, his voice choking. "Ron cries in his sleep. Ginny barely eats. Parvati, your sister, has a hundred protection charms on her robes and still jumps at the slightest sound. Maybe in twenty years this magic ball will be worth something, but today, right now? It's useless." He raised the Magic Detector in the air. "You go on and on about this project, it's literally the only thing we talk about. I can't tell if you actually believe our research will help, or if you're just…"
He trailed off, leaving a heavy silence. Padma folded her arms. "Just…what, Dean?"
He hesitated a long moment before answering. "You're a brilliant person, Padma. Single-minded. You're great at blocking out all distractions so you can get something done. But sometimes you just…don't see people, and I can't…live like that."
Something shut down behind her eyes, and he only realized later his mistake. "Fine," she said. "Go, Dean. You obviously care more about my sister and all the people in Hogwarts than I do. Be their soldier, and I'll go waste my time on our useless project."
"Padma, I didn't mean—"
But she turned on her heel and walked away without another word.
Harold spent his Wednesday evening sifting through the Repository of Magical Artefacts, once again trying to save England through the power of magical indexing.
It was far from easy. The Repository was poorly managed, to say nothing of the abysmal quality of the Hall of Memory. At least he had fifty employees helping him now, instead of five. If only they would stop bugging him every five seconds.
His entire organization strategy hinged on four goals:
1) Find out as much as possible about the enemy's weapons
2) Find out as much as possible about what magic the Ministry had to counteract them
3) If no such item existed, find artefacts and spells that could plausibly be used to create them
4) Make everything so organized he would never have this much trouble searching when the next dark lord or lady showed up
Harold kept constant tabs on number 1. Among the enemy's artefacts, the two main threats were—
"Excuse me, Mr. Shacklebolt," said a short, bald trainee. "Do you know if this charm goes under 'disguise' or 'transformation'?"
"Why don't you just cross reference?" Harold sighed. "Here, let me show you."
Once that was settled, Harold went back to his own pile of work, his brain turning over the information like background noise.
1) The Ring of Truth: A mundane brass ring. Able to uncover any information in a living person's mind, whether Obliviated, forgotten or otherwise hidden. Item number 0000051.
Current research had added the following details to this item entry: no known wizarding spell is capable of blocking it, though it seems to require eye contact. The person put under the influence of this ring forgets the experience. Anyone spending too long under its effect will die, especially when Obliviated memories are extracted.
The second item on Harold's list was:
2) Necklace of Eternity: An enchanted necklace. Created using phoenix tears, a treasured memory, and the bonds of selfless love. Can send objects and messages across a long distance, without detection or blocking from magical means. Amulet can be transferred to a wearer not involved in creating the bond with reduced effects. Item code 8760890.
Harold had searched the Hall of Memory extensively, and found that the Necklace of Eternity seemed to have some low level defensive properties as well—deflecting spells, diverting hits and blows. He'd found another effect that was not confirmed, yet was intriguing: the bond would, inevitably, join the two who were separated, even if only in the last moments before death.
Unlike the Ring of Truth, the Ministry could create their own version of the Necklace of Eternity, as the formula was non-interdicted. However, as far as he knew, the Ministry hadn't done so. He assumed they didn't think it was necessary, since there were other, less invasive magics they could use to accomplish item teleportation. Then again, it was possible the Unspeakables had created a set for study and not told anyone. That sure seemed like their modus operandi.
"Excuse me, sir?" said another employee, and Harold couldn't suppress an eye roll. Sometimes he missed the days he was just a regular guy working in a frigid Custom's office, free to daydream in peace. Well, at least they had a working fireplace in here.
Harold passed through a stack of unsorted entries, categorizing based on his new and improved system. Each item already had a number, of course, but he also logged them by type of magic, power level, and general function. So next time he needed "disguise," he could simply search for that and find 234 options, or he could search for "powerful disguise" and find 21. Non-physical options—like charms and runes—would populate once he finished indexing them in the system.
Of course, while this sorting was all well and good, the holy grail would be figuring out how to locate magic even if it wasn't crossing England's border, making this into more than just a custom's log, but a magical tracking system. Unfortunately, his team was no closer to that goal than when they'd started three months ago.
"What time should I schedule the meeting for, Mr. Shacklebolt?" asked an employee.
"My next available slot," he answered hotly. "I created a public schedule for this very reason, please use it."
Above all else, the most important thing was making sure the index was secure. The wards of the Repository said he was the first wizard in decades to enter the room. And yet, while rummaging around last December, he was surprised to find several of the scattered magical scrolls had been set in neat, organized piles. This included scrolls on the Ring of Truth (mind magic), a few artefacts of hiding (disguise), and a few other assorted piles he couldn't find a category for. After making sure that all the wards were updated—and there was no way for the Factionists to get inside—he decided that someone must have tried and failed to index the system a few generations ago.
Harold figured he was doing a pretty good job organizing, too. He'd found a sorting charm that could predict the category a new spell or artefact should fall into, and he'd cast that charm on all their blank parchments. Using that, one of his employees had found a powerful mind magic spell only 12 seconds after it was invented and written down in the Custom's log. The mind magic even appeared powerful enough to activate the Interdict of Merlin. Unfortunately, when the Ministry tried to purchase it, the spell they received was significantly less powerful than their sorting charm predicted.
Harold couldn't win them all, he supposed.
So what did the Ministry have to stop the Factionists? Harold kept a record of that too.
1) Alastor Moody's All-Seeing Eye
2) Powerful warding spells
3) Menageries of magical flora and fauna to be used in potions and ritual
4) Contacts in the Muggle world (for spying and weapons)
5) The Six Great Artefacts in the Department of Mysteries
Not all of these things were currently being used to full capacity. For example, Harold thought they should be stockpiling Muggle weapons, but the Ministry was concerned that if they did cross that line, then so would the Factionists, and that would be an unmitigated disaster. But in Harold's opinion, they were running out of time to be so damn cautious.
As Harold was ruminating and trying to figure out where he should shelve a certain potion, he heard a soft cough at his back. Slamming down the scroll, he whirled on the useless employee, "If I could just have five minutes—"
He froze when he saw the flames in the fireplace grate forming the head of a man.
The face cocked an eyebrow, and he caught a half-smile. "Hard to find good help these days, isn't it?"
"Remus! I completely forgot our appointment." Harold went to the table that was piled high with unopened mail. "By the way, did you get the information I sent you on the Esis Powder?"
"I just received it, thank you." Remus frowned. "I'm sorry to have put you out, I know how busy—"
Harold waved a hand. "No trouble at all." He was quite busy, but Remus had been extremely helpful in gathering information on Hogwarts Quest items, so he'd earned a small favour. Besides, if Harold were in Remus's situation, he'd be desperate to know all he could about the new werewolf treatment.
"I'm so sorry," said Harold, grabbing a package from the pile. He ripped it open as he approached the fire. "I didn't get a chance to read it yet. Give me the highlights?"
"Nothing terribly exciting this week, I'm afraid," said Remus. "Nothing I'd consider useful mind magic or battle magic. Archaeological information, yes, although I'm not sure that the ancient Greek legends of the twin God cities are the sort of thing you're looking for. In any case…"
Harold reached into the package and pulled out a glowing red ball. "Umm, Remus, why did you send me a Remembrall?"
"Ahh, that. Well, you'd mentioned you were looking for locator spells to update your system. This is a magic detection device some Hogwarts students created. It's not complete yet, but I thought you might want to take a look at the enchantments."
Harold waved his wand over it. "Merlin, this is a mess. I'm not sure if I can do much with it in this state. Do you have access to the underlying enchantments?"
"I believe I can get that for you," said Remus.
"It's a start," said Harold, sighing. Logistically speaking, he would need at least a year to create a viable enchantment for the system, and that's if everything went perfectly and he had full use of Ministry resources. He didn't expect he'd find all the necessary enchantments from a studentproject, but if he could at least dismantle it and rebuild, he might learn something. The ball's detection magic did seem quite sensitive, at least...but was it accurate enough to work on this scale…
"I'll see what else I can find," said Remus. "Speaking of which, I have a rush delivery request. Send me copies of all the scrolls from artefacts 1-1000, and all artefacts related to locator magic. I'll need it by tomorrow morning."
Well that was going to take an hour, and he'd been trying to let his team go by midnight, but…
"Will do," said Harold.
Harry stood in a poorly lit kitchen, washing dishes. The lights were dim because several light bulbs had gone out, and he couldn't be bothered to change them.
The dishes, though—those needed to be washed. He wouldn't have bugs in his flat, not if he could help it. The cost of an infestation was disease, but the cost of a broken light was only darkness.
All around his apartment, covering the rooms from floor to ceiling, were books. Old ancient spell books, arcane scrolls bunched together, well-respected and questionable journals on the practice of ritual magic.
This study was his only pursuit in his free time, and it showed in the state of his kitchen. In his shoddy, barely used apartment, Harry did not have one single spell book for house chores. Therefore, he would tidy up the Muggle way.
His hands scrubbed the dish, well-worn anxiety whispering in the back of his mind. You should be researching right now. We already spend so much time on the Order of the Phoenix and rebuilding efforts, even if it barely seems to help…
Another voice, a colder one, whispered. Your study is useless, boy. We cannot move backwards, only forwards. Think of where you are, what powers you hold now that you didn't before. If you would just see reason…
Harry shut the voice out, scrubbing harder. His eyes moved to the doorway, empty except for a woman's coat, robin's egg blue.
As he scrubbed, he saw her coming inside, kicking off her shoes and smiling. It was so real he could almost feel the cold draft from outside. She'd be wearing that coat the colour of a fair sky, her hair fanning out around the fluffy lowered hood, like an angel's halo.
Harry! she'd greet him, skipping up the last step to fall into his arms, like she'd been waiting all day to hold him. I missed you.
The plate fell into the sink as Harry hunched over, sobbing into his hands. The soap stung his eyes, but it was like a dam breaking, he couldn't stop…
His thoughts swirled as the memories mixed together, like some horrid mental seizure.
In his bed, crying where no one could hear him, a voice whispered. It would be better for you both if she'd never known you, never loved you. I tried to keep you apart.
An overly bright room, a concerned healer takes his hand. It's been four months, and I'm sorry, it doesn't seem to be working.
Standing behind a glass wall, running for the door. Why is she screaming? Stop it, stop it now!
Forcing himself out of bed, he heard that cold voice. In every thread of destruction, there is one common denominator.
Shoving him back hard, the blow stinging his chest. But honestly, I think your vow just makes you more clever about finding ways to be stupid!
That ever present sneer in that cold voice. If I'd not forced you to take that vow, I shudder to think what—
Harry banged his fist against the kitchen wall. Somehow, even after all this time, he was still tethered to his mind. The first thing Harry would do was destroy that voice. The next thing he was going to do was put everything right in the world.
You cannot! Already it has been decimated by your foolish actions, boy! Do you not see that this very resolve shall doom it? Do you not see you will destroy all that is left?
He spent a long time under that flickering kitchen light, slowly coming to a realization.
Destroy everything? No. I will save the Earth's people, all of them. Even if I have to rip apart the very stars of heaven.
Thursday April 18th, 1996
Harry woke from fitful sleep to the light of a glowing wolf.
"This is Remus Lupin's Patronus," said the wolf. "Can you meet me in your lab in ten minutes?"
Harry nodded, then mumbled, "Okay."
The wolf left, and Harry pressed his hands against his eyes. Ten minutes…subtract the time it took to get dressed and walk there, he had about one minute to himself. He took a few breaths, wiped his eyes, and sat very still. As he focused on the quiet and peaceful dorm, and the orange cat pawing at his arm, the visions of his dreams softened into memory.
He wished his nightmares were at least useful, but all that remained after waking was a vague, haunting sense of loss. Dreamless Sleep didn't help, and neither McGonagall nor Flitwick were able to extract the nightmares. Something itched at the back of his mind, telling him to pay attention to those dreams. But how could he waste time on that, when there was so little time to go around, and so many other important problems to solve?
When his minute was up, he reluctantly got out of bed.
Harry met Remus Lupin outside his lab, the bags under his eyes showing he hadn't slept well either. "Good morning. I have two favours to ask of you. Mind if we talk in your lab?"
"Sure," said Harry, letting the wards examine Remus Lupin as he entered the lab. Friend, they said. No ill intent. No strong magical items on hand. No Polyjuice or invisibility spells.
If the wards had triggered as foe, Harry would have trapped him in the room and sent a call to the Aurors. They had a system in place, which he suspected he'd helped create, but he hoped he never had to use it.
Harry followed him inside as Remus set his leather bag down on the table. "First, our request came in a little earlier than expected." He handed Harry a parchment scroll. "This is all the information the Ministry has on the Esis Powder, as well as a few battle magic spells the DA could use. I made copies for you."
"Thank you," said Harry, quickly glancing through it. His fingers itched for the time turner, he longed for more than 24 hours in a day to study, to strategize...
Remus cleared his throat. "First favour. Do you think the Bayesian Conspiracy would mind hosting a meeting with me in a couple of days? I would like to discuss something with them."
"Sure, I'll set it up," said Harry. "And the second favour?"
"I would like another chance to look through your closet of magical quest items."
Harry shrugged. "I'm not against it, but didn't you already comb through it a few months ago?"
Remus smiled. "I did, but as it stands, you still have the largest private collection of quest items. I would be remiss if I didn't check again."
"Ahh. That makes sense. Any items in particular you're looking for?"
Remus plucked a few papers from the table, his other hand drawing his wand. "Just a few things I might have missed. It's a long shot, but still worth an hour to investigate."
Harry unlocked the invisible door in the wall, and led Remus in. "Let me know if you need any—"
He reeled back as a wave of toxic fumes enveloped them, hitting like a caustic punch. Through stinging eyes, Harry saw bottles knocked off the shelf and smashed, their contents forming steaming puddles. Coughing heavily, Remus managed to cast a Bubble-Head Charm around Harry, and then a wind charm to purify the air.
As Remus's magic enchanted the room, Harry stared in shock. His potions obliterated, Ashwinder eggs smashed and trampled, every artifact of value broken or missing. All he could think of, over and over, was why he hadn't checked it earlier. He'd worked so hard to maintain the wards on the room, to keep intruders out and his potions safe…
After casting a few stasis charms, Remus guided Harry out to fresh air. "I'll contact Minerva and let her know what happened. Accidents like that must be handled carefully."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The potions accident, Harry. We'll need to take steps to contain it properly, salvage what we can."
He stared at Remus. "Mr. Lupin, I am most careful with my wards. I once hit my closet with several blasting spells, and even then I didn't cause an explosion. Not to mention, didn't we recently expose enemy spies in our school? Shouldn't we at least check to make sure this wasn't intentional?"
"I did," said Remus. "Thrice over." His expression was gentle, which sort of looked pitying to Harry. "You've done an excellent job maintaining the wards, but this isn't the sort of accident you can always anticipate. The complex peculiarities of potion magic make it difficult to keep from interacting, and I am more surprised you haven't had an accident before now. Back when James and I were pranking…well. Let's just say it happens. I will still bring up your concerns with McGonagall, of course, and we'll get to the bottom of it."
Harry sighed, turned away to his bookshelf, his eyes scanning the titles. It didn't look as though any were missing, but he picked up a few to check.
As Remus cast his Patronus to call McGonagall, Harry realized while this was a monetary disaster, it wasn't a total loss. Remus and Mad Eye had a sizable portion of his items, and Harry also had a few more in safekeeping. If an enemy had taken anything, it wasn't something he couldn't live without.
"We should also check my items stored in your room," said Harry. "Just in case any of them have been tampered with."
"We can if you like, though most of them are only of value to archaeologists."
Harry frowned. "And…the items you were looking for? That you thought were in my closet?"
"Well, I certainly hope now you never had them," sighed Remus, putting away his papers. "But did you have anything that looks like a checkerboard with green and white squares?"
"Umm…" Harry thought, then shook his head. "No, I didn't."
"Did you ever have a crystal ball that shows images of the world?"
"I…well, not exactly," said Harry, sticking his hand in his pouch. "Star orb."
The clear orb came out. "If I tap it, the orb will show me the stars. It does nothing else, as far as I know."
Remus took the orb in his hands, cast a charm over it, and then hesitated, a wary look crossing his face. "I hate to say this," said Remus. "But it might be best if I didn't involve you in this. There are certain things—"
"You're nervous to tell me any restricted information, I know," said Harry, holding up a hand. "Headmistress McGonagall mentioned the same concerns, so we ended up making a bargain. She would allow me to defend the school if I would permit her to take all memories of my plans and hide them. I would have access to them again when we met in conference."
"Standard procedure for the Unspeakables' research," said Remus. "Not a bad idea."
Harry nodded. "I've also allowed McGonagall to track my movements in the castle, and any mind magic will trigger an immediate lockdown effect around me. It still puts both of us at some risk, but we decided it's minimal compared to the advantages of working together.
"So, I'll make the same offer to you," continued Harry. "Anything you tell me about this orb, you have permission to Obliviate afterwards. Just let me help you figure out how to use it."
Remus sighed, shaking his head with the ghost of a smile. "You'd make a great lawyer. Very well, then. Watch closely."
He spoke a few words over the ball, tapping it with his wand. The room exploded in colour, rapidly changing form. They were in an inn—the Three Broomsticks, to be precise—watching a barmaid scrubbing a counter.
Harry surveyed his altered surroundings for a moment, dumbstruck. "What is this?"
Remus smiled. "I'll let you listen for yourself." He took a bit of potion and spread it over the orb, and a voice chimed. "Item: Orb of Worlds. Can locate any human or wizard through knowledge of name and face. Can see a location if a wizard has visited before. Item code: 0000021."
"As you can tell by the item number," said Remus Lupin, his voice almost reverent. "It is very ancient, one of the first items ever logged into the Customs System. I cannot tell you how glad I am you kept it safe."
"Wait a minute," said Harry. "You can see any person orlocation in real time?"
Remus nodded. "That's right."
Harry's mind spun rapidly at the implications of this. That meant the orb could find anyone. Missing persons, lost relatives…
His heart dropped in his chest.
"The Factionists," said Harry. "We can find them."
Games didn't work like this, thought Harry, as they marched down the hallway to Remus's lab. When you were playing a game—let's say, Dungeons and Dragons, for example—you levelled up through various encounters until you mastered enough skills for the final fight. You didn't find an OP item that defeats the final boss when everyone was level 2.
He certainly hadn't expected to find it hiding in his bag of holding.
Harry bit his lip as they walked, struggling to restrain himself. His brain was bursting with things to say, but it was not safe to discuss the orb in public. They entered Remus' office, cast all the requisite privacy charms, and then Harry burst out, "Do you know about sniper rifles?"
Remus blinked, pulling the orb out from his pocket. "Sniper rifles?"
"Yes, so okay," said Harry. "Sniper rifles are a kind of gun that can shoot from a long distance, all that's needed is a line of sight. Classical literature on warding states that there is a way to allow someone through wards using a physical plant, breaking it by their presence. But newer research suggests you can also get through wards using only line of sight, if you're attacking with the right enchantments. Am I correct in thinking this orb of worlds allows us to smite the Factionists from a distance?"
"I certainly hope so," said Remus. "If not, a magical line of sight will make it easier to set up those sniper rifles you mentioned."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Merlin, this is so overpowered."
"Ancient artefacts frequently are," said Remus, setting the orb on the table with the utmost care and casting a few charms.
Harry's brain was already running ahead of itself with more questions. Could it search anywhere on Earth, or were there restrictions? Did it locate people using their birth name, or would a nickname suffice? How could they use the orb to scout an area for traps, or could they go underground? Harry couldn't hear any sound, but no reason they couldn't try to fix that.
But then, as he ran over the orb's catalogue description, a thought dawned on Harry. You could only see locations a wizard had been to before.
So why did his orb see the stars?
"I…don't even know where to start," said Harry.
"Start by contacting McGonagall again," said Remus. "I don't know why she hasn't responded yet, but we need her here. Flitwick too, he's an expert at battle magic."
Battle magic. Harry got out his Auror mirror. "So we're planning an attack."
"We are indeed," said Remus. "We must act swiftly, before our enemies discover our advantage and ward against it. If our plan works, though, the war could be decided in one decisive blow."
Harry felt a surge of fear and relief. Hermione could come home.
"We need to be cautious, though," said Remus. "First, we need to contact wizards known as experts on scrying and warding spells, to get their input and expertise. We have to make sure there's no simple way to ward against the effects of the orb, like 3rd year anti-scrying charms."
"Well, I know something about warding," said Harry. "And I know that even if that's true, there's always a loophole we can abuse in that regard…"
Harry and Remus continued discussing, while he reached into his desk for papers and writing materials.
"You're composing letters?" asked Harry. "Why not send your Patronus? It's faster."
"They're ward masters," said Remus, scribbling rapidly. "They're not easily found by any means, and won't respond to an unknown Patronus. But they will reply to paper printed with the appropriate seals, with an owl who is charmed to resist tracking spells."
"Hmm," said Harry. "But the Orb of Worlds might be able to find them, even before the letters arrive?"
"Yes," said Remus. "Which would give us some idea of the orb's power…still, they might detect the scrying, so it would be safer to wait for permission."
Harry considered that they needed a way to test the power of the orb against strong wards without leaving them vulnerable to counter-scrying spells. It would be tragic if their first use of the orb revealed its existence to the enemy, or worse, lead to it getting blown to smithereens. "Can I suggest something?" said Harry.
"What is it?"
"Use the orb to peer into a room in Hogwarts. I have some measure of control over the wards, so I can test to see how strong the orb's spell is in that area. I can adjust the wards over that room as needed."
Remus raised his eyebrows. "You can do that, Harry? From here?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I can. Apparently I'm some kind of legend in this regard, at least based on McGonagall's reaction. Not that I remember exactly what I did."
"Well, that is…quite unusual." Remus stared at Harry a moment longer, then said, "But we might as well check while we have the time."
Remus and Harry went to testing the orb, and Harry was satisfied to see that the wards of Hogwarts were virtually unbreakable. Most of the castle was protected against every scrying attack they threw at it. They tried it again on Harry's house, and his heart dropped into his stomach.
"Best warding available, my ass," said Harry with a deep frown.
"What's terrifying is that is one of the best, Harry," said Remus Lupin. "And if it were any better, I don't think it would stop this orb's scrying abilities. It seems almost all warding is vulnerable, even locations under the Fidelius charm."
The orb's vision swooped in to examine a decrepit house, peering inside its gloomy rooms as a cranky, grumbling house elf swept the floors. They examined a few more safe locations before they heard a tap on the window.
"It looks like our owl has returned," said Harry, moving to let it in.
He took two steps before Harry felt the wards react to the bird, and he came to a stop. The owl's eyes were glowing green.
"Harry!" cried Remus, stumbling forward. "Don't open—"
The owl screeched and pecked madly at the window, letting out a caw of pain. Harry noticed the letter remained around its neck, unopened, deliberately smeared with blood.
Run little boy, cried the bird, but Harry knew that voice. Before I peck your eyes out just to hear them squelch.
The window shattered, and the wards shuddered down as a translucent wall appeared in place of the window. Remus cursed and threw up a sound buffer as the mad cackling continued, even through the warding.
Then the orb in Harry's hands cracked.
The wall continued to silently seal its breach as they stared in silence at the orb, a large crack down the middle.
"Harry," said Remus gently. "What did you do?"
"Nothing! I just—"
Several things came together at once.
The orb was in his trunk. He'd put it there right before leaving for Easter vacation. Before that, it was in his closet.
"How did they find us?" asked Harry. "We charmed the owl, so they aren't supposed to be able to track the letters to the sender."
"No," said Remus, his gaze steady on Harry, doubt etched into his features. "Not unless they were invited in."
The mad cackle echoed in the air, soft as if muffled, but ever present.
"Who is that voice?" Harry whispered.
Remus scrambled through his drawers, throwing things into his bag. "The Factionists have intercepted our letter. We need to move, now."
Harry was frozen, a terrible realization sweeping over him.
The enemy was seeking information. Up until recently, they had a spy in their school.
And the spy knew the Geminio spell.
Harry drew his wand and cast his Patronus. "McGonagall, we've got a code red situation! The enemy has an artefact that breaks through almost all wards! We need to warn the Ministry, so stop whatever the hell you're doing and get here now!"
Then, he thought of his family home, unguarded.
"My parents," choked Harry. "They're going to be one of the first targets—"
"Harry, listen—"
"My portkeys don't even work!" cried Harry, rummaging through his pouch. "I can't get there in time!"
McGonagall popped into the room, holding the hand of a house elf. She was white as a sheet. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"
If only, thought Harry desperately. House elf magic was strong enough to Apparate them anywhere they wanted. But it only works in designated pathways, and in short distances and-no time for this, think-
"Minerva," said Remus, his voice tight. "The Factionists have a powerful artefact known as the Orb of Worlds. Anywhere the wards aren't past level 10 and blood locked can be broken by the enemy, both with scrying spells and by physical entry. There is nothing we've found that can stop it."
She sucked in a breath, and Harry threw a sharp gaze from one to the other. "The only two places that are blood locked are—"
"Hogwarts and the Ministry," she said softly. "And maybe a few pureblood houses. Everywhere else isn't safe." She turned to Remus. "Are you certain of this information?"
"They sent a dark charmed owl," said Remus softly. "The voice it spoke in belonged to Bellatrix."
Before Harry could move, McGonagall whipped out her wand and summoned her Patronus. "Go to the Ministry. Tell them that a level 10 scrying spell is in the hands of the enemy. Prepare the evacuation measures."
The response was swift. "London is under attack."
April 18th, 1996
It was warm that evening when Linda Barns got off work at the mall. She stopped to grab a smoothie before wandering over to the pharmacist.
As she was in line to pick up her mother's prescription, she pondered the unfairness of life. Magic was real, and yet somehow, she still spent most of her day selling hotdogs and pizza to stingy teenagers (they never tipped). Even working fifty hours a week, she could barely afford to pay her bills, not to mention her disabled mother's pain medication. Neither of them could cast magic, unlike her sister, the brightest star of Slytherin. Anna had worked hard to earn her place in the Ministry, and Linda was proud of her, even if she couldn't help comparing herself and hating how she stacked up.
As Linda moved forward in line, she sipped her smoothie, a running counter in her head listing her failures. Waited for her Hogwarts letter until she was 13, which of course never came. Did poorly in Muggle school and dropped out of university to become an actress, look how that turned out. Dated an Auror who cheated on her with a Muggle, then dated a Quidditch player who cheated with her best friend. At that point, she'd decided she was done with wizards and men in general. The only one she'd put up with was her dad, but he was barely tolerable now that he had a new girlfriend—
"What can I get for you?" asked the clerk.
Linda turned her attention to her task, smiling politely. "Good afternoon, I need—"
The shop front erupted in a wall of fire, blasting inward with a roar. Linda hit the floor and shielded her head, shattered glass raining down as people screamed.
When the world stopped exploding, Linda scrambled to her feet, the glass cutting into her hands. She'd heard about the terrorist attacks from her sister, but they never hit big cities, and never to this scale. They must have escalated, and she needed to get to her mom, needed to take her somewhere safe.
She sprinted out the doorway, into the street.
Linda froze, staring at the red sky.
From the air, a great, mad cackle rained down bombs onto every building, as purple and orange hexes streaked through the sky. Muggles screamed in eerie chorus and ran into chaotic streets, where cars had smashed into lamp posts and other cars, like crumpled accordions. Smoke rose from the downtown sector as she stared in horror.
A burly man landed near her, surveying the destruction with fascination, a giant gash raking down his left cheek. He saw her, and his eyes gleamed with dark intent. Linda backed up into the broken brick wall as he aimed his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" cried a voice.
The wand flew from his hand, and he scowled and lunged for it. In that same moment, someone erected a barrier around her.
A brunette girl, who couldn't be older than 20, landed near her. "Are you injured?"
"No." Linda stared at the girl in horror. "Are you okay?"
"It's a glamour," said the girl with no face. "Don't worry, it means we're the good guys." She dodged a hex from above. "We're evacuating people to the Ministry." She pressed something onto the girl's hand. "Go now. We'll be protecting you.
But it wasn't just the facelessness that disturbed Linda. The girl's clothing along her shoulder was ripped, and the number of dark, purple marks from hexes she saw…the girl must be in excruciating pain.
The girl cast disillusionment on Linda as three more attackers surrounded them. She fired a hex that sent one crashing to the ground. The rest fell too, but Linda couldn't see who struck them. Then the injured girl raced out of sight.
While Linda tried to figure out how to get to the Ministry, she noticed a few other people on brooms with no faces. There must be a reason. A…light bomb, maybe? She whipped her sunglasses out of her purse and put them on. She searched for a weapon, but all she had was mace, and not even magical mace. Useless.
Still protected behind the magical barrier, she turned and examined the chaos around her.
London burned, giant waves of fire imploding windows. Hexes flew so fast they created a minefield in the street. In the air, from everywhere at once, rose a maddening laugh that made her want to shove her fingers in her ears.
She'd been told to evacuate to the Ministry, and that's where her sister would be. But the air around her was so thick with enemies that the thought of trying to find an entrance on Whitehall was sheer madness.
Her mother told her once about her great uncle, who died in a fire bombing just like this one. She said he'd tried to get to the underground shelter, but waited too long…
Linda blinked. Wasn't there a stairwell in the food court that went down to the basement? If she could manage to make it there, then there was a corresponding exit on the other side of the mall. If the fighting wasn't as bad there, she could escape.
Her mother's place was only a few blocks past Victoria station, if she could just make it in time…
She ran inside, racing past the fallen bodies of those who'd been caught in the blast. As soon as she rounded the corner, she saw a crazed man, covered in fur, lunging at everyone who passed. Screaming, she waved her arms to fend him off, and something happened because he ran away.
Linda kept running for the food court. Someone shouted at her, but she didn't turn around. And then, a few seconds later, she wrenched open the door of the stairwell.
A woman stood against the wall, smiling at her. "Well, I'll be, a squib casting magic. Perhaps we'll figure out how that happened, hmm?"
Linda's eyes widened as she scrambled away. Bellatrix Black!
But before Linda could move, the crazed woman pinned her against the wall, ripped off her sunglasses. "Let's scrub off that tracker and disillusionment spell and have a little chat." She leaned in close, tilted her head. "Girl to girl!"
Draco watched from above as Bellatrix's people rained down chaos on London. Tiny Aurors flew amid the flames and hexes, ready to be squished by the horde of Bellatrix.
Then he turned on his broom and sped away to fulfil his own part of the plan.
There were a total of 15,000 Wizarding families in England. Many of the most prosperous pure bloods chose not to live in the cities, but in magical neighbourhoods, protected by centuries of warding. Some even said the spirits of the ancestors defended them, keeping dark wizards away from their homes.
They needed to be the first to go.
"Boris," said Draco. "The orb says that most of those houses are occupied. Burn them all to the ground."
As the houses were reduced to smouldering ashes—the people running outside screaming—he thought to himself that some of them were his relatives. Most pure blood houses were connected to each other in some way.
He took his wand and fired at the ones who tried to flee. They were so focused on the flames that they never saw him coming.
The dragon's fire will rage
Consume the pure of blood…
He could have gone after Harry's parents, or Hermione's. But they were Muggles, and it didn't make sense to attack them first. It was unnecessary, and besides…he would not do to Harry what Dumbledore did to his mother.
Draco watched as a father carried his injured child, straight into the path of oncoming flame.
There is no such thing as good or evil, his father told him. Only action and consequence. If the consequence is justified, then lose no sleep over what you need to do to achieve it.
No one would suspect a Malfoy of killing pure bloods. And when, from the ashes, a new leader was chosen, he would rise to the top as being the only one with enough power to save the world from destruction.
So it must be. You cannot feel guilt over the inevitable. I don't know why you've been set down this path, but now that we're here, there is no turning back. Not like you have a choice.
Draco would need to erase the memory of tonight. If someone accused him of murder, he needed to act genuinely shocked and appalled. He had to believe he would never do such a thing.
But until then, in spite of his father's words, he knew this memory would haunt his dreams.
April 18th, 1996
Somewhere in France…
It was dark that night as the man and woman huddled under the basement stairs. Above their heads, her father was raging, shouting in tantrum and smashing the house as he searched.
The couple hid under a spell, but it wouldn't be long before they were discovered.
"I don't believe it," the woman whispered. "You found a way to break my bond?"
"Not break, exactly," the man said, clasping her hands in his. "But we can amend it, make it possible to escape it. If we're clever, we can add a clause that will free you if it's fulfilled."
"How would we do it?"
"Well, your vow has three parts to it, and the last is its condition. We could add a clause that states you may be released as soon as your father dies-"
"No, I mean...what must we do to add that clause?"
"Oh...well," he shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space. "An unbreakable vow requires the eternal giving up of a choice. So, in order to bend its hold over you, you must give the vow something of equal value in its place. Something of infinite value to time."
"Infinite?"
He nodded. "You must give it a human life, and it must die by a killing curse. The life must be immolated, all its choices sacrificed to give back another."
Her hands dropped his, her eyes wide in shock. "A dark ritual."
He looked pained, but he only nodded.
"No," she said. "It's wrong, Frederic. What you're asking me to do…"
He pressed on. "It could be voluntary. A terminally ill person who wishes to commit suicide. Or it could be a criminal in prison who is sentenced to die. I have connections, I could make that happen. Death by killing curse would be a mercy in comparison."
She shook her head. "It doesn't make it right."
"Nathalie! It isn't right for you to be locked up, bound by a vow you were forced to make! That madman will never let you free, will keep you chained to his side, to his..." His voice caught, and he looked away. "What is really dark, Nathalie? How can this be worse…than that?"
She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It never stops at one death, Frederic. Dark rituals feed off you, create a hunger that cannot be satisfied. Why do you think my father is like this?" Above they heard the sound of glass crashing, a woman screaming. "He never could stop and now he's…he's broken." With a trembling sigh, Nathalie cupped his check and whispered. "I won't make you a monster just to save myself."
"Aww. How cute."
Frederic whipped around to face the intruder, casting a protection spell and a burning hex. With a lazy flick of her hand, the stranger dispelled both and knocked his wand away, snapping it in two.
"Your wands are a sign of your binding," said the red robed woman. "Though, I dare say, you are clever for a mutt. If I hadn't already wasted my chance at bending the rules, I might have invented that ritual myself. Such a simple and efficient change, making use of a long forgotten rule of magic. Even if this spell is a bit broken for those of us who don't mind immolating a life now and again. Vous infâmes métis can impress me on occasion."
The man stumbled backward as the woman's aura intensified, her darkness enveloping the light around her.
"But I am angry," she continued, her face drawing into a snarl. "That you discovered this so late. If I had ten years, perhaps, or even ten months, I could find a way to make use of the magic that still remains to me. As it is, you are too late for a broken vow to do me or you any good, and so it was all for nothing."
"Wh-who are you?" he asked, drawing back, standing before his beloved.
"I am the Perenelle of Atlantis, Priestess of the Earth…well, I once was, anyway," she said, raising a finger to his heart. "Avada Kedavra."
Author's notes:
This chapter gives me so much anxiety. Anyway.
Storytime!
What did Dumbledore do to Draco's mother?
During the Wizarding war, when Draco was young, Narcissa was burned alive in her bedroom by Dumbledore. Turns out he faked her death as a war strategy, but this information wasn't revealed until after Dumbledore and Lucius's deaths. She was sent to Australia to live as a Muggle, her memories locked away. In my story, her mind has been slowly deteriorating after her memories returned. Draco thinks this is because of what Dumbledore did to her.
What is Atlantis?
According to the HPMOR canon version: Atlantis is the ancient civilization that advanced with great technological and magical progress. They received prophecies about the end of their people, so they created the Mirror of Erised to save themselves. It wasn't completed in time, and the entire city disappeared without a trace, leaving the mirror behind. Wizards believe Atlantis was sent outside of time.
According to Greek legend: the gods created two cities. Atlantis is bad, Athens is good. Athens tries to conquer Atlantis, but it disappears into the ocean, taking their strongest warriors with it.
What is Harry's unbreakable vow?
The exact wording goes like this:
"I vow that I shall not by any act of mine destroy the world. I shall take no chances in not destroying the world. If my hand is forced, I may take the course of lesser destruction over greater destruction, unless it seems to me that this Vow itself leads to the world's end, and the friend in whom I have confided honestly agrees that this is so. By my own free will, so shall it be."
You can see that it sort of has three sections. The first sentence is the main clause, the next part is clarifying details, and the final section is the condition under which the vow might not be binding. I plan on making my unbreakable vows follow this structure.
