Harry Potter and the Fourth Tower

by The-Nameless90

With Dumbledore gone, Grindelwald's remaining followers are finally able to carry out their plans for "the greater good" and install a Nazi-Germany-like regime. But luckily, the Deathstick found a worthy successor who will oppose them. Based solely on the original 7 books, Harry's story is continued. Realistic, increasingly powerful Harry, no AU. BOOK 1/3.

19. Birthday

- Chapter Nineteen -

Birthday

As the weeks went by, the weather became warmer and warmer, and the most exciting thing that happened in the bureaucratic jungle, as Harry called the Ministry, was that he failed his wizarding law exam. He wasn't at all surprised at the disgraceful result, since the Sunday study with Hermione was laughably short for such a serious exam, on a par with the N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration.

Ron, however, took the obstacle almost in his stride, thanks in no small part to his girlfriend, who encouraged him to study in a simple but effective way: if he didn't sit hunched over the Basics of Wizarding Law at least two hours every day, he would have to move to another room. And Ron would rather memorise the entire contents of the Hogwarts Library than spend his nights without Hermione.

Harry had got his comeuppance from Hermione for failing the exam, but he couldn't care less about it now. He was more concerned with the Fourth Tower and Ciaran, and of course Marius and the boy with the hood from his visions. He was disturbed by his lack of knowledge, and strangely troubled by the fact that he had not had any visions since the Durmstrang ball. He couldn't help but think that Marius had killed the young wizard, and perhaps his furry niece as well. And Harry was not happy at the thought – his mind's association with Voldemort had taught him that this particular ability of his could be a very useful weapon. And although he had no idea why this new ability had come to be, he would have been glad to have more information about Marius' wanderings, or even about the Tower. He sorted his memories, jotting them down in a notebook, lest he forget them; he still dared not use the Pensieve, for who knew what the hooded figure might do this time if he should see the peeping Harry again?

The "lack of dreams" and the failed exam were only one of the reasons for Harry's bad mood: he also had to face the annoying fact that the ministry doesn't take anyone seriously if they don't like them at the top. As Hermione had advised, he had written his report on his theory that the Inner Circle had hired Marius to murder the heads of the Greek, Chinese, and perhaps six other wizarding schools, and that the dark objects in the dead headmasters' rooms were merely the props of a clever misdirection. However, he had to leave out the information from Borgin and the name of the Fourth Tower entirely, unless he wanted to put himself, Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Aberforth Dumbledore behind bars, which he would not have doubted in the least if Kingsley had heard of it. So he ended up leaving out most of his available evidence, which led to Kingsley sending him a paper airplane to let him know that his theory was frivolous and that he should concentrate on his wizarding law exam instead. Harry angrily crumpled the note and threw it in the bin, which gave a pleasant belch. Harry felt the bin had made his point about the Minister.

With no support from the Ministry, he wrote a letter to the only person who could still take him seriously, the one who had been his partner in the search for the Fourth Tower and the blue-skinned man, Aberforth Dumbledore. Along with Ron, Ginny and Hermione, he seemed to agree with her, though his reply was simply, "Good. How do we catch them?" Harry liked the pertinence of the question, though he didn't know the answer, and wrote to Aberforth, who had yet to send another owl.

The last day of March was the windiest day of the year so far. It was Friday, and Harry couldn't wait for the clock on the wall of the headquarters to strike four so he could go to Ginny's shop and then home for dinner. But the clock was stubborn, and it seemed as if it would stop every minute to rest a little. Ron's absence made the afternoon even more boring; since he had passed his exam, he had a new assignment from Dawlish, and could now study disguise and tracking on the practice field without Harry. He had to continue to cower between the screens with his Basics of Wizarding Law in hand, counting the minutes.

Around a quarter to four there was a knock on the side of the screen.

'Hi!'

'Ginny!', Harry snapped out of the chapter describing the laws against the interbreeding of magical beings in exhaustive detail.

She slipped into the booth, and before he could get up, she was in Harry's lap and kissing him.

'I thought I'd drop in to see you, as I haven't been up here yet,' she said, and Harry thought she couldn't have found a better opportunity; he was beginning to think he was going mad with the throng of paragraphs.

'The first good thing that happened today,' Harry sighed, putting his arms around her waist.

'Oh, you poor thing!' Ginny murmured, and covered his face with kisses.

'I'm beginning to think you're trying to get me to do something...' remarked Harry jokingly, and Ginny laughed.

The next moment, they noticed Dawlish peeking in by the screen.

'I see, Mr Potter, you are persevering in your preparations for your upcoming exam!' he threw at him.

Harry made an unfriendly gesture towards him when he was gone. The girl shook her head, and perhaps as a result of what had just happened, she got off Harry and sat on the edge of the desk instead, adjusting the visitor's badge on her dress.

'Actually, my mother sent me,' she muttered. 'George's birthday is tomorrow. She's asked us to organise a little party for him.'

'Of course,' Harry nodded immediately. 'I'd rather do anything than stay here.'

He felt as if he had been waiting all day for such news, like for a messiah, and he felt better already. Even the clock on the wall seemed to speed up to catch up.

'Otherwise, she would have asked Bill or Charlie or Ron,' Ginny continued, 'but all three of them are busy with work, and Hermione's fighting with Skeeter in the conference room again, so...'

'So there's Harry, who has nothing important to do anyway,' he finished bitterly. Ginny sent him a reproving look.

'You know that's not the case! It's one thing to fail your exam, but...'

'Oh, can we stop this already?' Harry sighed. 'Hermione's already done enough scolding, and your mother's done enough yammering. Ron's done his bit to humiliate me too, because he's been talking to me like I'm his little brother ever since. Can we drop this subject? Is it such a big deal that I failed something?'

Ginny listened to him complain with a hiding smile.

'It's only a big deal if it's Harry Potter who fails at something,' she said. 'Otherwise no one would care. Truth be told, you're lucky the news didn't make it into the Witch Weekly magazine.'

On reflection, Harry considered this a truly lucky circumstance.

'At least we know that things aren't leaking out...' he muttered, trying to look on the bright side of the situation.

'I'm even glad you failed,' Ginny said, leading to an expression of surprise on Harry's face. 'At least it'll help people get used to it quicker, so they don't treat you like a phenomenon, but like an ordinary person, what you've always wanted.'

Harry had to admit that this was very true, although in Kingsley's case it was unfortunately the other way round: he had even less hope that the minister would take a word of his seriously.

'Ginny, you understand me better than I understand myself,' he concluded, and quickly added a kiss to it.

Then he got up from the chair and started packing. Ginny glared at the wall clock.

'Don't you have half an hour working time left?'

'What are they gonna do? Fail me again?' Harry asked back in a rush. Ginny shook her head again as he zipped up his bag and put on his robes.

'Watch out, or Kingsley might fire you,' she said. Harry just waved his hand impatiently.

'Ah, he wouldn't dare,' he said carelessly, 'he'd end up dropping a point in the polls...'

Ginny giggled.

Careful not to be seen by Dawlish, they slid out of the Auror Office and hurriedly joined the queue in front of the lift. The elevator stopped on almost every floor, and there were crowds everywhere. They also made their way through the crowds in the atrium, most of whom were just leaving work, while in some subdivisions the evening shift workers were arriving. Harry held Ginny's hand tightly, lest they lose each other, and led her out into the alley.

'Where to go first?' Harry asked her, and Ginny made a thoughtful face.

There were few people in the little street – four wizards and witches, besides Harry, were apparating from here. Most travelled straight home from the Atrium using the Floo network, which was free for Ministry staff to use between home and work.

'George dropped a couple of comments that he'd like to see the Strangled Cat, because we've talked about it so much. So I thought we could have his birthday party there,' Ginny chatted.

'I'm all for it,' Harry grinned, thinking of the raucous noise of the club and the vampire band.

They clung together, a little tighter than it would've been necessary, and apparated onto the quay, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. Freight boats floated along the river, motorboats lined the opposite bank, but the place as a whole still radiated the same desolation and emptiness as always.

There was no wizard sitting in front of the Strangled Cat warehouse, they almost missed the building. They knocked on the reinforced door, and the peephole, six feet high, slid aside, and an unfriendly, huge pair of eyes peered out.

'What?' the doorman's voice growled.

'We'd like to book a room for Saturday night,' Ginny said bravely.

There was a grunt in reply, then the hatch cover slid back and soon they heard the click of the lock. The door opened, and they stepped through it; they passed a dwarf with a ridiculously large head and eyes, who stood on a bar stool behind the door, and through the curtained room they entered the great hall.

Harry was surprised to find the place empty during the day, and somehow it seemed even smaller than when it was packed with people. A sea of discarded paper cups and napkins littered the floor, swept up by a team of house-elves, and a sorcerer at the bar was refilling drinks.

At the smallest tables, three or four guests sat alone – they were obviously regulars to be let in before opening. Two of them covered their faces, as if they had just relocated here from the burnt-out Hog's Head, practising their most important daily activity, drinking. They looked up at Harry and Ginny immediately on their arrival, but they ignored them and hurried to the bar.

'Excuse me!' Harry said to the wizard. 'Can we book a room here?'

'Only with the boss', the man said, waving two heavy bottles in place with his wand.

'Can you tell me where I can find him?'

'In the cellar,' came the reply.

'And can I talk to him?' Harry asked sheepishly.

'He is sleeping now. You can talk to him when he wakes up.'

Harry frowned and looked at Ginny.

'He is sleeping? In the cellar?' she wondered.

'Why? Where else should he keep his coffin if it was up to the little lady?' the barman growled back, and tossed two bottles of poison-green drink back in their place.

Harry and Ginny stepped away from the bar.

'When do vampires wake up?' the girl asked.

'No way before sunset,' Harry shook his head. 'That's two hours away. Shall we wait here?'

While they were talking, one of the guests, his face hidden behind a large hat and turned-up collar, with a gloved hand clutching a smoking bottle, blinked at them. Ginny looked back at him distrustfully, but before she could reply to Harry, the potion-filling wizard spoke again:

'When do you need the room?' he asked, in a voice like he was buying a whining child a desired candy.

'Saturday night,' Ginny said immediately, and stepped back to the bar. The wizard stopped pouring drinks and fished a notepad out of his pocket.

'How many people would that be?'

Harry did a quick head count, but Ginny beat him to it.

'For eleven people. One smaller room will be enough.'

The wizard growled again, in agreement.

'For what name...?' he started another question, but as his gaze slid to Harry's forehead, he stopped. 'Never mind... I'll tell the boss when he wakes up,' he said. 'If there's a problem, we'll send an owl, but I think we're okay. Nobody's booked for Saturday yet.'

'Thank you very much!' Ginny said politely, and flashed a smile at the gruff wizard, who was trying something like a grin in return.

'We still have to buy the presents...'

They turned and started to walk out, but Harry's eyes caught the robe-wearer sitting near them. As he stared at him, his face flashed for a moment behind the wide-brimmed hat and turned-up collar.

Harry kept walking, but then he came to the realization of what he had just seen – or what he thought he had seen. Letting go of Ginny's hand, he turned back, but the wizard with the hat was then standing with his back to him, at the bar, refilling his glass with the smoking drink.

'What is it, Harry?' he heard Ginny's voice.

'Nothing...' he replied automatically. 'Nothing...'

It must have been his imagination playing tricks on him. It was sheer nonsense, the fleeting thought that had briefly crossed his mind. How could he be sitting here in this filthy dive, drinking at his leisure, if he had been dead for two years? And besides, Harry reminded himself as they stepped out into the open, Severus Snape would never in a million years wear a hat like that.

---

The next day, Harry woke up in the early hours of the morning with a pounding headache, as if someone had hit him on the temple with a club. Ginny was snoring quietly beside him; through the curtains he saw the curve of her back in the twilight, her hair falling over Harry's shoulders. Cautiously, he turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

He had dreamed again, he knew he had had another vision of the hooded figure, and he had erased his memories again. His head was pounding...

The memory erasure this time was much harsher than on previous occasions. He had practically wiped the whole dream from his mind, and Harry only remembered flashes of it. The boy was there, but his black hood was pulled down over his face. He could see his ordinary Muggle clothes, the indispensable locket around his neck with which Xenophilius Lovegood had proclaimed himself a seeker of the Deathly Hallows. But again, his face was a blur... And there was another man, much older than the boy. His light hair was beginning to grey here and there, and his eyes were blue. His face he could recall clearly, but that didn't help. He remembered the man talking, he could see his mouth moving, forming words, but it was as if someone had turned down the volume...

Ginny stirred in her sleep and rolled onto Harry, causing her long hair to cover his face. Harry pushed the hair away, trying to remain still and not wake her. He himself could not go back to sleep, his head was too full of clouded memories.

He knew that even erased memories could be retrieved in some way – Voldemort had managed it with Bertha Jorkins, but her brain was irreparably damaged. Could he survive such a spell without damage to his brain? And would it even be worth the risk? What had he learned so far about the hooded one? That he knows Ciaran Diggory, Malfoy, Marius Prince, a witch named Mathilde, and the strange half-animal-half-human female who calls him Uncle. He also knows the Deathly Hallows, wears a black cloak like a Death Eater, but Muggle clothes underneath, and can't be more than sixteen or seventeen years old. Harry had to admit that he didn't know anyone who had those qualities; and yet, he still couldn't help thinking that he knew who he was, because he recognised him again...

The sun slowly crept over the horizon, flooding the landscape with its golden rays. Harry was able to sleep a little, once the buzzing in his head had subsided. He hadn't dreamt of anything again, or at least he couldn't remember it, and he wondered how many more such memory erasures he could endure before his brain boiled? When he woke again, Ginny had already slid off him, one arm dangling from the narrow bed due to the limited space. Harry carefully climbed out of bed and slipped into the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth. He could already hear Mrs Weasley's activity in the kitchen downstairs, and the distinctive smell of slowly sizzling bacon filled the air. Harry opened the bathroom window and let in the cool morning breeze, then headed back to his room.

Immediately he spotted the hooded figure in the black cloak as he opened the door.

'Hey!' he cried, reaching into his pocket for his wand, but soon found it resting on the bedside table, and between them stood the hooded man, who now turned to him, startled. Ginny groaned in her sleep.

'What are you doing here?' he asked him, instinctively lowering his voice, although he didn't know why. The most rational thing would have been to cry out for help.

'It's no use waking her,' said the hooded boy, as if he had guessed what was in his mind, 'they can't see me, any more than others can see you when you're watching me.'

Harry was pacing in the doorway, his gaze darting between the sleeping girl and the intruder, whose face he could not even now make out, the hood shrouding it in such a perfect, unnatural shadow.

'Don't be afraid for her,' the boy waved towards Ginny. His long-sleeved robes twitched at the movement, and his Muggle trainers flashed for a moment. 'I could never hurt her. Not her,' he shook his head.

That made Harry ponder for a moment. He didn't like the tone of how he talked about Ginny.

'But me you can?' he asked defiantly.

The hooded boy answered a little late, as if he were thinking. With one hand he fiddled nervously with the triangular pendant around his neck.

'Now, even if I wanted to, I couldn't hurt you,' came the reply from the shadows.

'What do you mean?' asked Harry, once again lowering his voice as Ginny stirred in her sleep. Truth be told, Harry wondered how she hadn't woken up to the conversation – at least to his voice, if not to that of the hooded one.

The hooded boy didn't answer, and that annoyed Harry. In spite of his initial curiosity and interest, he was increasingly annoyed by this jumpy little black wizard imitation...

'All right, don't answer!' he spat the words. 'But tell me, what is your business with Marius? What does he want from you? He's hardly your friend, if you've quarreled, and I don't like him much either.'

'I know that,' the boy replied simply, but again he was silent.

'And why is the golden shield so important? Why does Marius need it? Is that what he's looking for at the headmasters? The Greek and the Chinese?'

Again there was no answer, and Harry could not see what was going on under the hood, nor could he guess from the facial expressions what the other was thinking.

'How do you know Marius?' Harry tried again. 'What can you tell me about him?'

'Just things you could figure out for yourself anyways,' he said, turning back to Ginny for a moment.

Harry stepped closer to him, to focus on him again – he didn't like the idea of him watching the half-naked girl, lying on her stomach.

'If I can find out for myself, why don't you make it easy for me and tell me? I'll help you take care of him.'

As he waited, the hooded boy looked at him, and for a moment Harry expected him to laugh in the shadow of his hood, for what could he do for a wizard who rode on thunderbolts? But instead, the young wizard seemed to consider his words. He was staring at him for a long moment, though Harry found it hard to tell – he was rather imagining it, and for some reason he pictured Dumbledore's cold blue eyes and his X-ray vision.

'No... no...' the boy finally came to a decision, which Harry didn't like very much. 'There is no point. You cannot help me...'

Harry sighed heavily and was getting fed up with him. All he wished now was that he would disappear, as he had done at Durmstrang, and not be seen again for months.

'Why do we keep seeing each other?' he asked the next question, in a slightly desperate voice, because he was so anxious for answers. 'Why do I see you in my dreams?'

'I wish I knew,' the young wizard breathed softly. 'Why do we dream of each other...'

'We?' Harry asked sharply, and Ginny groaned again. They both looked at her for a moment, then turned their attention back to the other.

'I'm sleeping now,' the hooded man opened his arms. 'I'm at home in my bed.'

'Next to that Mathilda,' Harry added casually, remembering the witch with the German accent.

'Her father would break my neck if we slept together,' said the boy matter-of-factly.

'Who is the father?'

Again the answer was silence. Harry was already making a serious effort to control his angry grimace. The hooded boy seemed to back away a millimetre from him.

'What did you do with Malfoy back then?' Harry made an attempt from another side. 'Why did I see you kill him?'

The hooded wizard lowered his head a little, which made it look as if he was confessing.

'I didn't kill him,' he whispered. 'He was unharmed...'

Harry snorted.

'Well, if you ask me, after an Avada Kedavra, that's a pretty bold statement to make...!'

'You're one to talk,' the hooded man pointed out, suddenly lifting his head. Harry felt it justified.

'I'm getting really fed up with you...' he growled.

'Well, so am I with you!' replied the other one with a sudden burst of anger. 'Always these questions, these taunts! No wonder you...'

The boy bit off the word suddenly, as if afraid he'd blurted out too much, and Harry pounced at the interrupted sentence like a dog at a bone.

'What are you wondering? Answer me!' he hissed quietly.

Harry could have yelled at him all day long, but he would have gotten no more out of the boy, who was apparently stubborn, because he just kept quiet under the hood. Harry really had had enough now, he stepped up to him from the doorway.

'What did you say: you are dreaming now?'

'That's right,' he said.

'When I was dreaming, you cursed me,' Harry said in a whisper.

'Because I was conscious,' the hooded man explained. 'You were the visitor.'

'So now I'm in the lead, right?' Harry grinned wickedly.

'Y-yeah...' the boy replied hesitantly, and took a step back.

'Good!'

Harry punched the hooded figure full in the nose so hard that his bones cracked, and he sprawled on the ground, arms outstretched, comically, like a dead bird.

'Get out of here!' Harry snarled at him like a dog, and the figure dissipated in an instant, like steam over a boiling pot.

Ginny finally woke up and yawned loudly. She rolled onto her back and stretched her limbs.

'Hi...' she meowed to Harry with sleepy eyes. 'You are already awake?'

Harry gasped at what had just happened, as if he had run up a hill and back.

'Yes,' he muttered, taking a deep breath, and then added in a lighter voice: 'You can sleep quite soundly!'

Ginny smiled and yawned again.

'Mm-hmm... Mom says I could sleep through a march of giants. I think it might be George and Fred – their room is right above us,' she pointed to the ceiling. 'There were always blasts when they were home from school, even at night...'

Harry couldn't help noticing that she talked about her twin brothers as if they both still lived here and Fred was with them.

As she got out of bed and walked to the wardrobe, he watched the spot on the floor where the hooded boy had disappeared. He would probably have to pay for this one, he thought, but he couldn't care less now. He tried to add what little he knew now to the picture that had formed in his mind so far: so the connection in this case was back and forth, as in Voldemort's, but so far it seemed to be focused solely on dreams, and never showed itself when they were both awake. He feels no alien emotions, for he has not discovered in himself anger or joy from another, all the time – asleep and awake – he remained entirely himself. The visions may indeed be merely what the hooded boy claims: visits to the other.

What can cause such a relationship? Harry wondered, trying to concentrate and not stare at Ginny's bare bottom as she dressed. He strongly doubted that he would have become a Horcrux again, and then the symptoms would be more severe. If he were a Seer, it would not manifest itself in the same way, and he would have experienced it much earlier. But he thought it was possible that something else, something outside of him, was connecting the two of them, perhaps a cursed object... 'No, it can't be the Pensieve,' Harry quickly dismissed the thought. He already knew it wasn't it when Hermione kept nagging him about it, and after Mr Weasley had had it tested, all doubts about the bowl had vanished. But then what did the two of them have in common?

The idea, the small thought, appeared in his mind like a flash of gold, and as he stopped his whirling thoughts and pondered the golden flash more, the answer was ready, and it seemed almost banal and simple: the Deathly Hallows. The only thing he and the boy had in common was the search for the three hallows.

The hooded boy would want to find them, he thought. If so, he had better be careful to avoid the three objects, lest the hooded one should spot them on a "visit". In any case, he must neglect the invisibility cloak, which at this moment lay neatly folded at the bottom of the cupboard where the half-naked Ginny was searching for clothes. The blood rushed to Harry's head, and he thought it best to sneak into the bathroom to cool himself off at the tap.

The other two hallows were safe, Harry took stock of them as he splashed his face with the cold water. The Resurrection Stone was resting in the Forbidden Forest, no one knew exactly where it was, even Ron and Hermione had only been told it had been left in the woods. Not that he was keeping secrets from them, but his two friends didn't even ask where exactly it was.

The wand was more difficult. Everyone knew about it, it's been in the newspapers, there was a whole special issue of the Spellcraft Review devoted to the Elder Wand, its possible properties, Harry and Voldemort's duel, and there was a long speculation about what the core of the magical device might be. It was for this reason that Harry and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix decided two years ago to provide Professor Dumbledore's restored tomb with the most powerful protective charms in existence: Professor Flitwick had made it unbreakable, McGonagall had placed powerful anti-tomb raiders' barriers on it, Kingsley had placed a magical circle of protection around it that would not allow anyone with ill-intent within two metres of the marble stone casket, and Hagrid had trained a dwarf nundu brought from Africa to guard the tomb at all times. But Harry knew that none of that was necessary until he himself was disarmed – and he had to admit that the chances of that happening were increasing now that he was on dangerous grounds again.

---

By midday, the whole family had gathered for the birthday lunch, and they greeted George, who, though smiling forcibly, seemed to be trying to enjoy himself, and somewhat absurdly, liked Harry and Ron's gift the best: his brother bought him an ear warmer and Harry bought him earplugs. Mrs Weasley didn't much appreciate the tasteless joke, but the celebrant laughed heartily at it. The crowning glory of the lunch was the huge cake, which, thanks to some sort of cranberry-like coating, was the same garish purple colour as the Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze building and the vendors' one-room saloon.

Harry had kept his wand with him all day, prepared that if the hooded boy reappeared, instead of another punch in the nose, he would chase him back with a curse or two to who knows where. But that didn't happen, because the hooded boy didn't turn up again, nor did any other dead or presumed dead wizards.

After sundown, the party set off for the Strangled Cat; George, Katie, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Harry all apparated from the back garden of the Burrow together to the grimy London quayside, where no one was now to be seen, except for the wizard standing guard outside the large warehouse, who had just let in two other guests.

'Hello Dennis,' Ginny greeted him, and the sorcerer made way.

They went into the warehouse in order, paid for their tickets – the price of George and Katie's was divided between them – handed in their coats and wands for inspection, and then, slipping under the curtain, entered the great hall, which, unlike the congested emptiness of the previous day, greeted them in a for Harry more familiar and natural state.

'How do you like it?' Ron shouted at his brother, who followed Ginny and Harry with Katie, leading the group into the reserved room.

'Pretty basic. I can hardly hear the music,' George shouted back.

The people formed a solid wall, as if they were a single waving, jumping, shouting creature that existed for the sole purpose of worshipping the band playing on stage. The vampires flashed their long fangs and hit the strings, the wild metal music filling the whole building and blaring at full volume wherever Harry and his friends sat down. At the far end of the warehouse were small rooms for regulars, or to be booked in advance, with a single long table, many chairs, separate toilets and bar. Harry wasn't disappointed: this room, too, was marked by the unhealthy taste of the owner of the Strangled Cat. Hundreds of bizarre stuffed cats hung from the ceiling, casting interesting shadows on the walls by the light of floating everlasting candles.

'Is Ab not coming?' asked Katie, leaning over in front of George.

'I asked him, he said he'd drop by around ten,' Ginny replied, and Harry tried to picture Aberforth Dumbledore with both hands in the air, bouncing to the music, his grey beard fluttering like a shroud around him.

The next few hours were spent with conversation, laughter and good humour, interrupted by the regular return of drink orders, and soon a pyramid could have been built from the empty bottles and glasses, most of which rose in front of the celebrant, and the least at Fleur. She was still clutching her very first glass, occasionally sending a disapproving glance at the bottles that were piling up in front of her husband.

'Just one more, honey, this is the last one!' Bill kept saying.

Harry had vowed not to let go too much because of his recent bad experiences, and he wanted to talk to Aberforth about the Fourth Tower when he arrived. However, Ron quickly forgot his last promise and was soon laughing out loud at every little comment Katie and George made. Hermione was also in a more relaxed mood, and uncharacteristically cheerful as she told of the recent trial against Skeeter.

'That wicked hag has lost!' she announced with a laugh, and Ron chuckled at the news, and soon they were drinking to their success.

'Her scribble will never see the light of day!' Hermione told. 'The printing rights, the publishing rights, I've let them all be revoked.'

'Congratulations!' shouted Bill and Fleur from across the table, raising their glasses.

'So you can rest easy now, can't you?' Ron asked hopefully, but Hermione slammed the glass down and shook her head.

'No,' she protested, 'I've filed another lawsuit to fine her for the false accusations and contempt she made against Dumbledore, and to revoke her journalist's license.'

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

'That's a bit harsh, don't you think?' her friend said cautiously, but Hermione scolded him and launched into a long rant to prove Rita Skeeter's wickedness.

Aberforth arrived a few minutes after ten, and everyone erupted in loud cheers at his arrival, which the old man acknowledged with a smile-like facial twitch.

'Happy birthday, kid!' he greeted George, and George jumped up and gave the wizard a good squeeze.

'Glad you stopped by, Ab.'

'I wanted to see this crime scene anyway,' said Aberforth, taking a seat between Katie and Harry. They shook hands, and Aberforth, as if resuming a conversation he had begun, leaned over to Harry and whispered:

'So, what's the plan, you rascals?'

Harry blinked at him and picked up his glass.

'We'll drink until dawn and then go home,' he announced, knowing full well that was not what Aberforth had meant.

'The hell it is!' the old man grumbled.

'I know what you mean, but I have no plan.'

'Well, I have!' said Aberforth, snatching the glass from Harry's hand and downing the contents before he could protest. He slammed the empty glass down and cleared his throat.

'Shacklebolt didn't take you seriously, huh?' Aberforth asked him. Harry shrugged.

'Maybe he didn't even read it and just threw it in the trash...' He didn't honestly believe that, but he liked to add to Kingsley's "sins" in his mind.

'I believe you,' said the old man, in a hoarse voice, 'Back in the first war my brother sent me and Hagrid abroad – you've heard from that, haven't you?'

Harry nodded. Outside, the vampire band started another song, even louder than the last.

'Well, we went halfway around the world, asking some of the big fish what they thought of Voldemort, and trying to persuade one or two people to come and help us against him,' Aberforth growled.

'That's when you met the inner circle, right?' Harry asked, a little louder as Ron's laughter drowned out his voice. He was having fun with George and Katie at some Quidditch memory, which would probably have bored Hermione, but she found a conversation partner in Ginny.

'Well, I didn't really know that they were an alliance, but then Hagrid and I soon found out that all these big fish were connected, trading, bartering, and they didn't like Voldemort, who wanted everything for himself.'

'I bet...' muttered Harry, who knew Riddle well enough to know that if he had defeated the Order, his next target would have been the other ministries and the other overlords.

'We would have tried to organise something, but they didn't like us very much either – we went to them in my brother's name. Anyway, the point is that we went to the Greeks and the Chinese – but none of the schools taught black magic.'

Harry nodded again. This confirmed what he suspected. Marius wasn't killing members of the Fourth Tower, but was unfortunately preparing the ground for them.

'And what is your plan?' he asked Aberforth, returning to the beginning of their conversation.

'Well, if this Marius kid hates them as much as we suspect, he won't be too happy to know he's been taken advantage of,' the old man said. 'And the inner... I mean the Tower must have a way of dealing with him when they don't need him anymore.'

'So we are setting them against each other?' Harry wondered.

'Exactly!' the old man said, and croaked. 'The essence is to get the cabbage gone and the goat dead as well.'

Harry laughed outright at the simile, and was delighted to order himself and Aberforth another round of Ogden's most expensive Old Firewhisky.

It was towards midnight when more and more members of the party sneaked out into the crowd during a more rhythmic song, sometimes dragging their partner along or getting one from the crowd. Aberforth did not start to go wild to the music, as Harry had imagined, instead, the two of them talked at length about the old days when he used to travel with Hagrid, but Harry was always careful to avoid Albus Dumbledore as a topic of conversation. In the meantime, he had also come to see why one liked Aberforth when one got to know him better: the old man was not at all the crackpot fool which had been spread about him, and though he had a rather morbid and cruel sense of humour, at least one could tell that he had one, and he knew a good deal more about magic than Mr Weasley had imagined. Aberforth recounted many amazing adventures he and Hagrid had had with giants, trolls, hags, goblins, dark wizards from far-off lands, getting into messy skirmishes, most of which they had escaped unscathed, thanks to Hagrid's hard fists and Aberforth's twisted wit. This latter conclusion Harry came to, and with it he realized that he respected and liked Aberforth as much, if not more, than his brother. The younger Dumbledore had no qualms about telling about himself – the same could not be said of the Professor.

He had listened to Aberforth's story of a family of Indian wizards who they had rescued from an angry manticore, and Hagrid had even dragged the leashed beast along with him for a while, until the poor thing had strangled itself with the bridle, much to the gamekeeper's sorrow. At the end of the story, when they laughed together at Hagrid giving the beast a tearful funeral, with some of the local wizards gathering around, Ginny came over to join them.

'Harry, won't you come out for a bit?' she asked.

'What... why would I?' Harry looked at her, realising that everyone was dancing outside except them, and the vampire band had been replaced by the jukebox.

'Go, Potter!' Aberforth gave the order, shoving Harry, who took Ginny by the hand and they made their way into the crowd.

George danced close to them, clinging to Katie as they swayed to a slow number, and Harry and Ginny followed suit. Ron and Hermione were out of sight again, and Harry slowly remembered that Bill and Fleur had said goodbye to them at some point during the evening.

Harry held her in his arms and spun to the pleasant music. After midnight, they always changed to slower numbers at the Strangled Cat after the concerts, and there were fewer people on the dance floor. Those who wanted to party and rave would spill out into the streets and apparate home if they were still conscious, or be taken to St Mungo's poison ward.

Ginny giggled, leaning against Harry's shoulder.

'Katie is about to fall asleep while dancing,' she said.

As they continued to spin, they slowly turned around, and Harry could see the pair leaning on each other.

'Harry,' Ginny said again, 'I want to tell you something...'

'Yes?'

He heard her take a deep breath as if she was about to make a big announcement.

'Earlier this year I received a letter from the Holyhead...'

Harry heard nothing from then on. As he glanced towards George and Katie, the next thing he knew his eyes were on someone else.

This is impossible! – a voice screamed in his mind as he tried to process what he had seen. A few metres behind George and Katie, next to the wall, a man was staring straight into Harry's eyes – a man who looked strikingly like Severus Snape.

Harry let go of Ginny with trembling limbs, who didn't know what had befallen the boy.

'What's wrong?', Harry heard the question, but he couldn't listen.

Severus Snape looked the same as he had last seen him: his greasy hair framed his sallow, pale face like a black curtain, the high collar of his robes turned up to cover most of his neck, and Harry imagined a scar underneath, torn by the needle-sharp teeth of a snake on the wizard...

'What is it Harry? What did you see?' Ginny asked again, looking in the direction Harry was looking.

Snape started off, and Harry almost lost sight of him.

'Stay here, I'll...' muttered Harry, leaving the girl in the lurch. 'I'll be right back!' He shouted back, stepping around the dancing couples.

The wizard was way ahead of him, and he had to struggle not to lose sight of him. They passed the wall, past a long bar, down a door that hid the stairs to the cellar. On the door was a "No Trespassing" sign. Harry resolutely followed Snape, not thinking about anything, no questions in his mind, no whys, no hows, only one thing mattered: catching up with the man.

The staircase was narrow and steep, and as Harry took the steps, an omnipresent musty smell grew stronger. It emanated from the walls, and a thick cobweb hung from the ceiling, which became universal as Harry descended. The music died away, and he could hear the tapping of Snape's shoes on the cold stone and the sound of water drops falling into puddles.

The stairs led to a damp tomb where coffins lay regularly spaced. The tops of each was open, and Harry, stepping closer, could see that each was lying empty. He wasn't surprised, as this was where the coffins were kept for the vampire band and the barmaid girls.

Snape was standing opposite him at the far end of the tomb, looking straight at him, which gave Harry the creeps.

'Sn-Snape?' he asked him.

The wizard began to laugh, loud and long, and underwent some sort of change. Harry ventured closer to him, wand pointed forward for safety, until he could see what the man was turning into. He stopped and stumbled back as he saw the elongated, bluish face, the lengthened black hair, the white canines emerging from the dead lips, and finally the glowing demonic eyes that flashed like lanterns.

Marius Prince stood before him, amused at Harry's astonishment.

'What, you didn't think I was really Severus?'

'You know very well that I did, because that's exactly what you wanted!' Harry snarled wildly, glancing quickly behind him. No one had crept up to surround him yet, though there was the sound of conversation from the stairs; he hoped that, despite what he'd said, Ginny had spoken to Aberforth, Ron and the others.

'He's dead, Potter,' the blue-skinned man stated the obvious, 'The dead don't walk among us...' he slowly started slaloming through the coffins, and Harry saw him pull a wand from the folds of his robes.

'Well, at least it doesn't happen every day,' he laughed, and Harry was annoyed that he found this situation so amusing. He cursed himself for having foolishly fallen for such an obvious trick.

'So now you're also a Metamorphmagus?' he asked him, firmly pointing the wand at his head.

'I've eaten one of those as well,' laughed Marius.

Just the sound of his voice made Harry feel disgusted, and it made him look at him even angrier. He could barely keep his arm from immediately sending a curse at him.

'Where did you leave your little Viking buddy?' he asked, just to control his temper.

'I don't need him now,' the wizard said simply. 'I only have business with you.'

'You said you'd leave me alone,' Harry reminded him. The blue-skinned man held up a long index finger.

'I'll correct: I said I might still need your services,' he said, and finally stopped laughing.

He stopped two paces away from Harry, their wands pointed at each other – Harry aimed straight at his head, while he loosely held his aim above his opponent's heart.

'This time I'm not asking you to do something as difficult as last time. Just...'

His words were cut off as the voices and shouting from the stairs grew louder, and feet pounded down the stairs. Harry heard his name being called, and he grinned.

'My friends are coming,' he hissed to Marius.

'Should I be scared now?' he asked, but his flaring nostrils told him that he would have preferred to settle things privately.

Eight people burst into the room, Ginny and Ron at the front, followed by Hermione, George, Katie, Charlie, Aberforth and an extremely tall, pale figure wearing a purple robe with vampire teeth like Marius' flashing in his mouth.

'Darn!' snarled Ron when he saw who they had run into. Hermione and Katie Bell screamed, and Harry heard Ginny's gasping breath.

'By Merlin's beard, what is this?!' Charlie shouted, and George gaped in amazement, but they all drew their wands and pointed them at the blue-skinned man.

'Calm down! Calm down!' Aberforth tried to calm things down, without much success.

'Marius!' another voice boomed, and Harry risked taking his eyes off the wizard. The vampire stepped forward, his ringed eyes boring into Marius'. 'What are you thinking? You can't attack people!'

The vampire gasped at the blue-skinned man, and Harry heard Hermione's voice.

'Do you know this man?' she asked the vampire.

'Yes, I know him,' he replied, turning back to Marius. 'What are you doing?' he asked again. 'We've given you accommodation and you're making trouble for us? Do you know what will happen if even one human gets hurt down here?'

'Quiet, bloodsucker!' Marius snapped harshly at him, and waved his hand. His voice echoed through the gloomy walls.

The vampire remained silent, and did not dare to say anything further.

'Noone needs to get hurt,' said the blue-skinned man, considering the situation, 'Just hand me your cloak and I'll be on my way.'

Hermione made another astonished noise, but the others fell silent. Harry didn't answer right away either; how did he know about his cloak? Because he found it implausible that Marius would be interested in the cloak if he didn't know it was the third hallow.

'You can forget about that!' Harry declared.

Marius hummed a little, and the wand moved in his hand, barely visible. Harry braced himself for the confrontation.

'That does raise some problems...' said the blue-skinned man, and his wand was already snapping like some kind of attacking beast, a purple flame in the air. Harry was expecting him to try and force the Blight on him again, so he was not unprepared.

'Protego!' he shouted, and with him the spell came from seven other throats.

The vampire was thrown sideways out of the way of the spells, and the fire bounced off the combined shield, almost completely isolating the other half of the tomb from them.

'There are other ways to do this,' Marius suggested, when the noise and dust had died down. Ron snorted derisively.

'Now you want to negotiate? You realize you can't handle us?' The blue-skinned wizard smiled.

'No, I just wanted us to get through this without bloodshed.'

'I'd rather have some bloodshed,' Ron teased. 'Let's see if your blood is blue as well!'

'NO!' shouted Aberforth, slapping the boy's hand away. 'Why do you need the kid's cloak?' he asked Marius, who was watching with little interest. 'Someone gave you orders, didn't they?'

The blue-skinned man tilted his head to the side, but remained silent. Everybody's eyes were between Aberforth and him, except Harry, who knew what the old man was trying to do.

'Do you know who gives you the orders? Do you?' The answer was silence. 'Because we know! You're being conned, you hear me? The inner circle is pulling your strings...'

Marius tsked and shook his head. He muttered something about "pathetic", then waved his wand-hand. Harry was prepared for another confrontation and knew what he had to do.

'Expecto Patronum!' he bellowed, and the stag sprang from his wand, straight at Marius, who was also shouting a spell, but Harry could not hear it, only the thunder that shook the whole cellar.

Behind him, Aberforth, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Charlie were also firing stunning and disarming spells, which were hitting the opposite wall, tearing chunks of it or smashing the coffins to dust. The patronus' light illuminated the dark room, and the vampire in the corner shielded his face from the bright light with his arms.

There was another rumble, and then another, as if there was a military parade upstairs, and plaster splattered from the ceiling and fine cobwebs flew.

Harry could barely see anything through the debris, dust, and the patronus, but he could make out a blurry black figure moving away from the stag, flailing his wand frantically. All Harry could see was the wild movement, and the green flashes that spurted out, and the frightened shouts of his friends. He saw the blue-skinned man backing away because of the patronus, and again he uttered the incantation to confirm the bright stag.

Then something happened which he had not yet experienced: the patronus was not strengthened, but another stag with an equally proud head sprang from his wand and started towards Marius, who was still hurling curses, many of which bounced off the shields of Aberforth and the Weasley siblings, and he feared that the roof of the tomb would collapse, burying them all under it. Perhaps that was what Marius feared as well, for the fight was over at once. The blue-skinned man disappeared, as a flash of a portkey was visible for a moment, then the patronuses disappeared, and slowly silence settled over the tomb.

Harry turned around; Aberforth and Ginny, who were in front, were bruised here and there, the old man had a drastically shortened beard, and Ron and Hermione were supporting Charlie, who had apparently sprained his ankle when the floor exploded underneath him from a crashing curse. The vampire was crouched in the corner, and Harry went over to help him up.

'Are you okay?' he asked.

'I'm...Fine, I... thank you...' he muttered, but his words were interrupted by a shriek of agony. Hermione stared with her hands over her mouth at George, who was holding Katie in his arms. Harry ran to them, oblivious to everything, but he knew already that the terrible shriek could only mean one thing...

George smoothed a strand of hair out of her face, urging her on, but Katie didn't move. Her eyes were frozen, her body dangling lifelessly in his arms as those around her wept and knelt beside her. Aberforth and the vampire ran to call for help, which everyone knew was useless. Harry just stood frozen, only a corner of his brain aware of reality, for almost everything else was overwhelmed by the black hatred that poisoned his body...