Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe.
A/N: There is a long author's note at the end of the chapter addressing some issues people have with this story. If you're interested, check it out. If not, that's fine too!
Shoutouts: Thanks to x102reddragon, PotterWithABokken, and Kit Willow for their awesome beta work. Check out their stuff!
The Shadow of Death
Chapter 15: Expose the Rot Beneath
Albus jerked awake, the scent of antiseptics turning his gurgling stomach. The past eight hours had blurred together in a flurry of jumbled chaos. He had rarely longed for the comfort of his bed as much as he did now.
Whispers reached his ears from across the Hospital Wing. He ignored them, having long since grown weary of their discussions.
'The case is rather shut and dry.' His eyes fell onto Harry's slumbering form.
Phineas Black's sneering face wriggled into the forefront of his mind.
"He will be the death of your students. Mark my words, Dumbledore, Potter is smarter than you where it counts. He would not have survived that place, otherwise."
No student had died, but the man's words had been prophetic. Harry had not fully told him how he intended to deal with Dolores. Albus could only assume it was to give him plausible deniability.
Amelia's investigation had brought to light just how far the boy had been willing to go. The Head of the DMLE was none the wiser, but he had pieced together all the information.
"How could you allow this to happen in your school, Albus?" Amelia Bones slumped into a chair beside him. Her monocle dangled above her lap. "She was torturing students under your very nose."
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "And I have already said that I had no knowledge of such events. Dolores acted of her own volition. I was not the one who hired her."
"It's a bloody political nightmare." She turned to look over her shoulder at her Aurors. "The Undersecretary torturing students with blood quills and using an Unforgivable on The-Boy-Who-Lived. I can't keep this quiet, Albus."
"And you should not," Albus said, his gaze returning to Harry. "Secrets are not well kept within these walls, and news of this will escape sooner rather than later."
Amelia tapped her monocle with a finger, its sway almost hypnotic. "You're right, of course. Fudge will have my hide for this."
"This is not your doing, Amelia." Albus looked at her, his words firm. "The Minister will have more to worry about than this investigation. Speaking of, I assume your interviews are complete?"
The young witch rubbed her eyes. Dark circles marred her pale skin.
"Yes," she grumbled. "All seventy-two of them, minus Potter, Pomfrey, and Dolores. What a nightmare."
"Boss, we're ready for Madam Pomfrey." Nymphadora appeared in front of them, her hair and eyes a lacklustre blue. Kingsley stepped up beside her, his shoulders slumped and his eyes heavy.
Albus raised his wand and a phoenix patronus shot from its tip.
"She will be with you shortly, Nymphadora."
The young auror grumbled under her breath and stalked away. Kingsley nodded at the pair before following the junior auror.
"When was Umbridge moved?" Amelia looked around at the empty beds. "I must have missed her while I was interviewing the students.
"A team from Saint Mungos arrived nearly an hour ago." Dumbledore held his glasses to the light. He frowned. "I am afraid my stunner damaged her already fragile mind. She will likely be a permanent resident of the Janus Thickey Ward."
Amelia's blue eyes turned to take in Harry's twitching form. "How long was he held under the spell?"
"Too long." Albus sighed and placed his glasses on his nose. "Madam Pomfrey told me it had been just over twenty minutes before I arrived. My presence at the ICW could not have been more ill-timed."
"He's just a boy," she whispered. "Is there any permanent damage?"
He conjured a glass of water and took a long sip. Water trickled down his beard. His hand, feeling as though it were stone, twitched but stayed in his lap.
"It is too soon to say, unfortunately," Albus replied. "Madam Pomfrey mentioned his nervous system had been damaged but not to what extent. We likely will not know until he wakes up."
"The other students, they're lucky Umbridge's attempt to alter the blood quills backfired." Amelia looked up as Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. "I'll need to oversee this."
Nodding, Albus's gaze returned to the young wizard in front of him as Amelia left.
None besides Harry and him would ever know the truth of the events. Amelia was so close to the truth, but she did not know Harry as he did.
Albus shook his head and reached out to take Harry's hand.
"How much further are you willing to go, Harry?" The boy's fingers twitched. Albus withdrew his arm.
Harry had been the one to change the enchantments on the blood quill. He had placed himself in detention with Dolores on purpose throughout the semester. He had been willing to be hit with the Cruciatus Curse to cement her fate.
But in doing so, the young man had also prevented the other students from being tortured. Albus wished Harry had done it for them, but he was not naive.
Albus stared at him. Even in unconsciousness, Harry's body was as tight as a spring.
A tear fell down his wizened cheek. 'It is my fault… Everything.'
He had been late arriving at the Potters' cottage that night. A young boy had been taken, tortured, and crafted into a tool as a result. Harry would have been better suited with Sirius, but that had not come to be.
Harry had become a killer, a professional in his craft. Albus feared the atrocities the boy would be willing to commit to win the war. And he despised himself for being willing to ask Harry to do such things.
Phineas had told him yesterday to rid himself of the boy, to kill him before Harry could wreak his havoc.
'I am too weak.' His hand fisted on the bed, twisting the sheets. 'I am sorry.'
"Whatever you have become," Albus whispered, leaning over the boy, "You are still James and Lily's son. I must have faith. I can only hope it is not too late for you."
Harry's brow twitched and Albus stood before making his way over to Amelia.
"Can you describe Madam Umbridge's injuries for me, Madam Pomfrey?" Nymphadora looked up from her notepad and nodded at him.
"It is an extensive list, I'm afraid." Poppy pulled a piece of parchment from her robes. "Whatever she'd done to the quill had changed where the written words were inscribed on the body."
Nymphadora peered at Poppy over her notepad. Black ink stained her right cheek. "And that was?"
"Multiple locations on her brain, surface level," Poppy replied. "The words 'I will not pretend to know more than my betters' had been etched into her brain thousands of times. The damage is irreversible."
Amelia looked up, her eyes sharp. "What are the long term effects?"
"Exactly what you witnessed when you first came in." Poppy sighed and pocketed the charts. "She's unable to control herself and it's possible she could enter a nearly vegetative state as the cuts scar over."
Albus's heart leapt into his throat. He had been the one to order Harry not to kill her.
"Mark my words, Dumbledore, Potter is smarter than you where it counts." Phineas's words rang true.
'Death would have been a kinder end,' he thought.
"If that is all," Pomfrey broke in, "my other patient is awake."
Albus shot a look at Amelia.
"We will interview him tomorrow," she said. "I'll give him the rest of today to recover."
The group of Aurors followed her from the Hospital Wing. Albus walked to Harry's bed. The boy scowled under Poppy's attention.
"You should rest, Headmaster." The mediwitch never looked up from her scans. "It's been a long day for all of us."
"I would rather speak to Harry when you are done." He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "One of my students has suffered an Unforgivable within Hogwarts's walls. I would like to ensure he is well before I retire."
The stern woman tutted. "You'll have lasting effects from your exposure to the Cruciatus Curse for at least a week, Potter. But I don't believe you'll have any permanent effects. I'll be back with your potions when breakfast is served."
"Thank you for your diligent care, Madam Pomfrey." The woman was taken aback by Harry's words.
"See that this doesn't become a common occurrence, Mister Potter."
Poppy left the room, leaving the two to sit in silence. Harry stared at the ceiling while Albus kept his gaze firmly on him.
"You are upset with me," he whispered.
"Frustrated, yes." Albus rubbed his eyes, his long day of work looming over him like a giant. "It would have been kinder to kill Dolores, Harry. But what you did—"
Green eyes glared daggers at him.
"Was within the scope of your orders, Headmaster." Harry moved to sit up, his body twitching in protest. "I did not kill her and she is no longer at Hogwarts. I prevented her from torturing students, thus keeping them safe."
"Ends and means, my boy." Albus twitched, Harry's face replaced by one best left forgotten. "You should have brought the quills to my attention."
Harry squared his shoulders. "And what could you have done, Headmaster? The Minister had effectively neutered you. At least this way, we are done with her and the finger is pointed back at her. Now we are free to move within the castle as we see fit."
"Perhaps," Albus countered, his gaze hard. "But the Minister could appoint another, more able spy. What did you hope to accomplish with such barbaric methods, Harry?"
"Change, Headmaster." Harry's gaze fell flat. "Whether she knew it or not, Umbridge was furthering Voldemort's goals. She sowed fear and hatred amongst the students and she would have left them unprepared for the war. I would see them ready for it."
He ran a hand down his face.
"They will not fight this war," Albus replied hotly. "I refuse to allow it."
Harry shrugged. "But that is something you cannot guarantee, Headmaster."
"It does not excuse your actions, Harry." Albus stood, fire searing through his veins. "You have gone too far. Despicable as she is, nobody deserves such a fate."
"And yet I kill at your behest." Harry's words saw him deflate. "Headmaster, you are a man of emotion. While I cannot understand it, I do respect that. But you bought me for a reason. I can help you win this war, Headmaster. Allow me to act where you cannot."
White hair covered his downcast eyes. His fingers twitched and his mind ran in circles. Albus opened his mouth when the doors to the infirmary bursted open. Fleur Delacour stalked in, white feathers twisting to the ground in her wake.
'Perhaps there is a way.' Albus smiled at Harry and left the infirmary.
—0v0—
Madam Pomfrey had scolded her for her entrance, but Fleur couldn't bring herself to care. Her rage threatened to escape at every second which passed in silence.
So she sat, glaring holes into the side of his head. A clock's ticks buzzed in her ears. Antiseptics stung her nose. Students trickled in and out, complaining loudly of their ailments, and neither of them had spoken a word.
Fleur picked at her robes, tearing threads from the fine fabric, while Potter stared out a window.
"I thought you did not wish to speak with me." His words were laced with venom. "I was quite content with our arrangement."
"Zhat's all you 'ave to say to moi?" Fleur's lip trembled in protest between her gnawing teeth.
She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.
"Why are you even here?" Potter turned his emotionless eyes on her. "Why do you care?"
"Not zhat you'd understand, but you are my betrothed," she snapped. "Why did you antagonise her?"
He cocked his head. "So you heard about that. I wonder how the other students found out."
"Of course I 'eard from zhe ozzers!" Fleur ignored Pomfrey's glare. "It's part of zhe reason I'm angry wiz you!"
"I did nothing to-"
Fleur's hand sliced through the air.
"Do not feed me your lies," she hissed in French. "I'm not an idiot. I watched you antagonise her. Why?"
He arched his brow.
"To answer your first point," Potter replied in perfect French, "I could not have told you as I was unconscious. Not that I would have, anyway. To your second point, I did it so she would be found out and kicked from the school. I would say it was a success."
"Where did you learn French?" Fleur shook her head. "Nevermind. You are an imbecile."
"My plan worked." Potter's shrug turned into a violent twitch.
"And you only 'ad to suffer zhe Cruciatus for it." Fleur scowled at him and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder.
His eyes softened, morphing into a more familiar pair. She stiffened.
"You are not mad at me for being here." His tone made her skin crawl. "You are still upset about our argument."
She slammed her hand down on the bed. Pomfrey hissed at her to be quiet.
"Don't pretend to care," she hissed.
He shrugged, his face once again hewn from stone. "It seemed to be the best way to be rid of you quicker."
"Why?" Her fists clenched the white sheets. "Why are you so cold, so unfeeling? What do you want?"
He scoffed. "What do I want? I want to be left alone. What do you want, Delacour?"
Fleur swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
"I want…" The words stuck, pain creeping up her throat. "I want more zhan what you can give me."
"Then go find it," he bit back. "Not all of us grew up like a fairytale princess. Let me spoil the story for you, Delacour. You will find neither a prince nor a happy ending with me."
Fleur scowled at him and stood from her seat, her shoulders squared against the weight that bore down on them.
"You know nothing, Potter." Fleur forced the lump from her throat. "I don't know why I bothered to come."
—0v0—
Life had been rather easy for him for the past several years. The past few months had been anything but. His head hung in his hands as his friend and subordinate argued.
His eyes sought out his bowler hat. Cornelius longed to wring it, toss it, burn it. He'd been stuck in this office for hours and hadn't found a viable solution.
He needed a way out, something to appease the angered people of Britain. They'd bayed for his blood when Amelia had lost Azkaban.
Soon they'd come for his position. Umbridge was in Saint Mungos and Dumbledore had won.
Cornelius snatched his hat off the desk and crushed it in his grip. It did nothing to alleviate his stress. His eyes flitted to a bottle of firewhiskey sitting on a nearby table.
"Amelia," he called out. The arguing stopped. "Do you have anything new regarding Azkaban?"
"We concluded our investigation this morning." The woman squared her shoulders and shot a look at Lucius. "We've found no evidence of a siege."
He threw his hat on the desk. "Prisons don't just disappear, Bones. Surely, you have more?"
Amelia looked over at Lucius and cleared her throat.
"Lucius has my full confidence."
"The dementors have gone with the island, Minister." His face drained of colour at her words. "We believe that they've allied with whomever activated Azkaban's… failsafe."
'He stole it from me.' His hands fisted in his robes. 'I've been made a damned fool.'
Cornelius glared at the Daily Prophet on his desk. Unnatural cold leaked from the black and white robes flapping in the picture.
He shook his head.
"What do you mean 'whomever', Amelia?" His eyes narrowed. "It was confirmed that Crouch was behind Azkaban's disappearance."
Lucius arched a brow and shot a small smirk in her direction.
"I don't believe Crouch could have taken the prison," she stated. Her monocle glimmered in the firelight.
"Crouch is a powerful wizard, Minister." Lucius's fingers stretched out over his cane. "He's intelligent enough to infiltrate the prison he escaped from."
"An interesting theory, Lord Malfoy." Amelia glared at the blonde. "But unlikely. Crouch could not have done this alone."
Sweat beaded on Cornelius's upper lip. "You think he's recruited others? How many?"
She shook her head. "No, Minister. I believe there's only one other who could have done this. Dumbledore-"
"Is a fear mongering old fool!" Cornelius surged to his feet and slammed his hands on his desk. "You-Know-Who is dead and has been for over a decade. Crouch is behind Azkaban. Find him and bring him to me or I'll see you replaced!"
"We don't have the Aurors to spare." Amelia held up a hand to keep Lucius from speaking. "We need more funding. I need the authority to call Aurors out of retirement. We are spread too thin, Minister."
Lucius tapped his cane against the floor. Their eyes turned to him. His face was placid, a balm to Cornelius.
"I believe it would be unwise, Minister." Lucius's grey eyes turned to Amelia. "We are at peace after many years of conflict. Surely, we do not require more Aurors. Doing so would see the populace question the Ministry's ability to find one man."
A small smile crossed his face. "You are, of course, correct, Lucius. We must be seen as a strong Ministry."
Amelia bristled but held her tongue. Cornelius dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
"Now, what of Dolores, Lucius?" Cornelius summoned the bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses with a flick of his wand.
"An unfortunate happenstance." Lucius took a deep drink. "The Undersecretary should have known better than to try and change goblin enchantments."
Cornelius quaffed his alcohol and refilled his glass. He ran his finger along the rim and stared into the fire behind Lucius. His nerves buzzed, scenarios blurring through his mind's eye.
'No,' he thought. 'I must remain calm. I've gotten through worse. I can see this through.'
"I've lost a great deal of political capital due to her actions at Hogwarts," he murmured. He polished off his second drink. "A failed gamble, I'm afraid."
The blonde wizard raised his glass. "And the loss of a fine witch."
He nodded and refilled his glass. Cornelius felt lighter than he had in days but he wasn't quite drunk enough to be rid of all the weight on his shoulders.
"And Dumbledore won." He rubbed his temples. "I've lost my hold on him and Hogwarts."
Lucius set his glass on the desk and steepled his hands. "Not necessarily, Minister."
His eyes widened. "You have a plan."
"If you do nothing then you admit defeat." Lucius ran his thumb over his cane's serpent head. "Dumbledore will not have filled the position on such short notice. I have a suitable candidate in mind."
"Well," he said, "do tell, Lucius. Who do you propose we send?"
"Devora Antov."
Cornelius's brow scrunched. He'd heard the name but couldn't put a face to it. He drummed his fingers against his desk.
"She is a hitwizard from Russia." Lucius reached out and took another sip of his bourbon. "She recently arrived in Britain and has an impeccable record. None would be able to find fault with her."
"Ah!" Cornelius snapped his fingers. "She was a pleasant witch and seemed competent enough. Her placement wouldn't draw any unwanted questions."
"Quite." Lucius sent him a warm smile over his glass.
It was all falling into place, minus one major detail.
"And she can be convinced to see things our way?" Cornelius flicked his wand. Her file shot into his outstretched hand.
"I will convince her easily enough." Lucius's words hardly registered as Cornelius read Antov's file. "She's been a loyal Ministry employee this past year."
Cornelius shut the file with a firm nod and began writing on a sheet of parchment. "I'll have her appointed immediately."
"Splendid."
Something in Lucius's voice gave him pause. He stopped writing, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end.
But when Cornelius looked up Lucius was merely studying the bottle of whiskey in his hands.
"1792," Lucius murmured. "A fine vintage."
"Yes, one of the best," Cornelius replied.
He studied his long-time friend as he signed the parchment with a flourish. A sense of foreboding flooded his senses.
Cornelius shook it off and sent the missive off with a negligent wave of his wand.
—0v0—
The story is disjointed: Yes, there is a lot going on in this story and there will be many POVs as there is background information that will leave readers more confused if they are left out. This story will be very in depth and details will be squirrelled away for you to find. That won't change.
Nothing is happening: It may seem that way, but I promise you that things are happening. Again, the devil's in the details and you won't always be explicitly told if something is important. The seemingly unimportant can have drastic impact later on. This has all been scripted and planned this way. And, yes, I have a full outline for every single chapter of this story (some 60+ off the top of my head) The only people with the full picture are my betas.
Slow pacing: Yes, the pace is slow. That is intentional, whether it is the plot or the eventual romance between Harry and Fleur. I'm not going to justify it, just know it is intentional in both characterization and plot. There is a lot happening behind the scenes that sets up for the climax. Things will start to ramp up here in the next couple of chapters on all fronts. If you've been paying attention you will see some of the plot points start to weave back together.
Now, hopefully I don't feel the need for another long author's note as I don't particularly enjoy writing them, but it's far more efficient than answering the same questions/comments with the same answer.
Please leave a review! I like to know what you think, like, and/or hate.