Chapter IX
September 2, 1996
Pondering Neville Longbottom, Senio stepped into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The boy's spells were powerful but what was far more curious was that they were unrecognizable. For a member of the Nine, who'd spent decades training his magic and learning spells that no one had used for centuries, that in itself was somewhat troubling.
'Perhaps it was family magic of some sort?' Possible, but something told him it was unlikely. He'd send the memory to Octava and see if she could come up with some information about what exactly that protection spell was that had obstructed his pursuit of the two students.
He was drawn out of his thoughts as a group of American aurors patrolling the detention area intercepted him. "Can we help you with something, sir?"
Senio looked at the three men in annoyance. "I'm here to interrogate a prisoner."
A sandy-haired man withdrew a scroll of parchment from his robes. "Which prisoner? And what is your name?"
"What is this? Who are you to question me?"
"A prisoner was killed in our custody last week; since then, we've taken steps to tighten security."
Rather than reply, Senio spun on his heel and stalked out of the holding area, finding a fireplace and quickly summoning the commander of the 7th, demanding that he sort his men out. After an infuriating few minutes of standing around while their superior officer explained just who he was, Senio was granted access to the cells.
"Who are you?"
"I'd ask you the same question, but those are the same robes as the ponce that captured me. What are you, his mate or something?" A woman in her twenties sat, impudently grinning at him from inside Lord Black's cell.
"Where is Sirius Black? How did you get here?"
"You should know, you're the one that brought me in."
He conjured a simple wooden chair, taking a seat outside the cell. "You were tested for polyjuice, and wore no glamors. How did you manage this deception?"
"I'm a metamorphmagus. I can be anyone I want to be," she replied, her face taking on the features of his own visage as evidence. "So sorry, but you got the wrong guy - er, girl, as it were."
Fascinating. Metamoprhmagi were incredibly rare; it was estimated that less than a dozen lived in the entire Wizarding World. "Where is Sirius Black?" he asked, feeling his irritation increase.
"How in Merlin's name should I know? You searched my flat, he obviously wasn't there. So, if there's nothing else, be a dear and unlock those doors and I'll be on my way- whoa, easy now…"
Senio pointed his wand at the woman, casting a Full Body-Bind before opening the door and stepping inside, withdrawing Veritaserum from his robe and administering a dose. He then flicked his wand, canceling the curse.
"Where is Sirius Black?"
"I don't know."
"What is your name?"
"Nymphadora Tonks."
"What is your relationship with Harry Potter?"
"We are distantly related through the Black family." Of course. This was the daughter of the other Tonks woman that was also imprisoned here. Well, it was about time that something went his way.
"Are there methods to compel your shape-changes?"
"No."
"Do injuries you sustain in your base form carry over to your morphs?"
"Yes."
Well, that made things less complicated, albeit no less unpleasant. Placing the same curse as before on her to keep Tonks immobile, Senio administered the antidote to the truth serum.
"Everbero," the Bludgeoning Hex smashed into Tonks' face, breaking her nose and breaking two teeth.
"Morsus," his next spell struck her directly in the left eye, painful red swelling sealing it shut. Hespent the next ten minutes using Bludgeoning and Stinging Hexes to batter the woman into a bloody mess, rearranging her face to such a degree that the pretty, pink-haired woman was nearly unrecognizable.
"Now that the scene is set," he began, taking a quick step backwards to avoid the growing puddle of blood, "Morph to Sirius Black."
"Nnnnn…" she moaned, struggling to speak through a broken jaw and more than a half-dozen missing teeth.
"Come, girl, there's no need to be difficult. Morph, and it will all be over. I'll even send for a healer." She didn't reply, mustering the weakest, most pathetic, laughable glare he'd ever seen through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. "We both know that you'll give in, why not spare yourself the pain and agony?"
"Fff ewww," another attempt to speak, but this only sent a weak mist of bloody saliva and shards of teeth dribbling from her split lips.
Senio stepped outside the cell, closing it behind him. Quickly walking down the corridor, out of the 'special' detention area he'd set aside for his own use, he made his way into the general holding cells. It took only a few minutes to find the person he sought, and with the American aurors' assistance, dragged them back to where the metamorphmagus lay, unmoving in her cell.
"Nymphadora, no!" the woman screamed out.
The sandy-haired auror, who'd been so impudent before, looked shaken at the ruined woman lying on the stone floor."What- what did you do to her?"
"It isn't your concern," Senio dismissively countered. "I'll take her from here, remain close by so that you may escort Mrs. Tonks back when my business is concluded."
Andromeda Tonks dropped to her knees outside of her daughter's cell, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Nymphadora, honey, it's going to be okay, Mummy's here, it's-"
"This is your last chance, Metamorphmagus. Morph to Sirius Black."
Nymphadora's one good eye widened, and Senio took that hesitation as his answer. "Crucio."
Andromeda shrieked, thrashing against the cell door she'd pressed herself against to get a glimpse of her daughter. He held the curse for a count of ten, then released it, allowing the older woman's sobs to echo loudly among the stone walls.
"Drop your wand, now! What- let me go! What are you doing, get off of me!" Senio cast an amused glance over his shoulder at the auror that had been so intransigent, eyeing him struggling against his peers.
Once he was sure that the American had been effectively restrained and removed from the special detention area, he turned back to Nymphadora. "Do you think that I enjoy this? Torturing a woman in front of her child? Believe me, I find it as distasteful as that young man they dragged away. There's nothing pleasant about torturing someone, even if they did deserve it. But I have my duty to fulfill, and you will assist me or you will watch me break your mother. Decide. Crucio!"
This time he held it for only five seconds, Andromeda sliding down the bars of the cell to lie face down. Her voice was growing hoarse. Squatting on the balls of his feet, he lifted the mother's head by her hair and looked down at the healer. "I get no pleasure out of this, my dear. I made a perfectly reasonable request of your daughter, one that she could accomplish with but the slightest effort, and she refused."
He heard a gurgled sob, and looked between the bars to see Tonks, curled up and crying as best she could through her injuries. "How much longer will your mother hold out? I don't use this curse that often, but I expect it may take three or four minutes of that before her mind gives way."
Returning to his feet, he aimed his wand down at the twitching woman, his eyes never leaving Tonks' bloodied form. Still crying, her features shifted into a perfect replica of a battered and beaten Sirius Black.
"Good girl," he nodded approvingly, opening the empty cell across from Tonks' and levitating her mother inside. He reached into an expanded pocket of his robes, withdrawing a magical camera. "Now, be sure to keep that anguished look, and hold still!"
"Harry? Are you awake?"
"I'm up, what's wrong?" Judging by the huskiness of his voice, he hadn't been up, but Daphne wasn't going to call him out on it.
"I'm scared." It had been a horrible three days since her mirror call with Tori had cut out abruptly, and despite her desperate attempts to renew the connection, there had been no word since. Daphne had been hysterical, and it took both Harry and Dumbledore to talk her down from setting out for Great Britain at that very moment.
"I know, me too."
"I can't sleep, I keep thinking about what could be happening to her. I just wanted to protect her, it was what all of this was for. I shouldn't have left her!"
"She'll be okay. Greengrass girls are notoriously tough, after all."
His attempt at levity didn't go unappreciated but she couldn't bring herself to smile much less laugh. "How do you do it? Deal with the fear, the worry?"
"I don't. Why do you think I'm such a basket-case?"
They lay in their individual beds, letting the quiet settle over them. Daphne was wondering if he'd gone back to sleep when he spoke again. "We could practice your legilimency again."
"Okay." She flicked on the lamp sitting on the nightstand between their beds, sitting up and facing him. "I think I'm close."
"Then let's give it a shot."
She whispered the incantation, trying to establish a mental connection. They sat, staring into each other's eyes, for about fifteen minutes before she finally succeeded. Her legilimency probe, tentative and barely formed, bypassed any defenses he had and she was instantaneously drawn into a memory of him conjuring and transfiguring stone blocks into a litter of puppies for her delighted younger sister.
The memory ended, and Daphne sat back, tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.
"Congratulations! I knew you could do it."
"Were you trying to keep me out? I thought Dumbledore said your defenses were coming along."
Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I was caught off guard. We'd been trying for a while and I think I sort of lost focus."
"Want to try again?"
He nodded, and their eyes met once more. "Legilimens," she whispered. Once more, there was no hesitation before she relived their first conversation during his detention, all those years ago. "Are you just out of practice?"
"It is late. Maybe I'm just too tired to really focus."
"Or," she began, thinking about all of the things he'd seen and done, "maybe it's that these memories are so innocuous you don't really have much desire to keep me out. Magic is all about intent, after all."
The expression he wore likely would have been suspicious had his eyelids not looked so heavy, his posture sleepy and relaxed. "What is it you want to see? Just ask."
"That night. After your birthday." He tensed, but she pushed forward anyway. "I- I need to know. Please."
"Daphne-"
"I've thought about it so many times, but I want to see the entire night. You- you don't have to, if you don't-, I mean, now I understand what you were thinking. But I want to know. Will you let me see it?"
She watched a war of emotions play out across his face, finally appearing to come to a decision. "Okay."
Harry, wearing a resigned look, unflinchingly turned his green and golden eyes to hers. With a whisper of "Legilimens," she was transported to his bedroom in Grimmauld Place.
Daphne watched him receive the message on that quite ingenious communication device, manipulate Sirius into incapacitation, and then activate his portkey. She saw her and her family, restrained in a line of chairs, heard Harry's desperate pleas to leave. Her breath hitched as she watched her father make no effort to defend himself, accepting Harry's task from the moment he was awoken.
She involuntarily gasped, heart jumping into her throat at her father's negotiation tactic.
"Why should I do anything you ask?"
"Because I think you're in love with my daughter…"
The rest of the scene played out according to her own memory, and she broke off their connection before she had to relive her parents' deaths. For all of his failings, her father had loved her and Astoria. She- she hoped that he would be proud of the woman she'd grown into.
"I'm sorry."
"I know," she replied, and with a small degree of surprise, realized she really did. "I think I'd like to give sleep another try."
"Is- are you okay? Are we okay?"
"Yes, thanks for showing me. It helped."
"Right. Well, uh, that's good," he stuttered, clearly nervous at her lack of a stronger reaction. Harry leaned over, turning the light off. "Goodnight, Daphne."
"Goodnight." She lay in bed, in the darkness of their shared room, going over her father's words and Harry's lack of denial. A small, shy, hesitant smile came across her face, and Daphne closed her eyes, feeling better for the first time in days.
One of the aurors standing near the gates raised his hand in greeting. "Here again, Jacobs?"
"What can I say, Cooper, I missed you. Anything important happen during your shift?" Part of his punishment for what happened at the DMLE holding cells was getting the worst duties in the whole brigade, namely guarding the refugees' families. He counted himself lucky; his superiors had threatened to extend his service year by two months for any future insubordination.
"Just more complaints," Miller, one of the two guards that had greeted him, replied. "You'd think they would be grateful we even allow them to stay here."
Wally 'hmm'-ed. "It can't be easy. I hear that other countries think our policies are too strict, but really, the Magical Congress is actually a lot kinder in just erasing the memories of newblood parents."
"How's that?"
"I mean, think about what a hard time the people here are having. They have to watch their children go off into a world they can't be part of. It's got to hurt, having to let them go like that."
Cooper snorted. "Oh, please. Don't you read the Ghost? Nomaj treat their children terribly. They're not capable of understanding our world."
"He's right, Jacobs. I mean, even Potter's a perfect example of that - they left him with Nomaj, and they beat him and starved him into insanity. If he'd been born in the MACUSA, he'd never have turned out like he did."
"Maybe you're right," Wally agreed, more to just shut them up than out of any real accord. "Still, I feel bad for them."
"Yea, me too. The older newbloods have their jobs with the Ministry now, been moving their families out all week. The ones with kids in school, though; well, they're stuck," Miller remarked, her words sympathetic even if her tone was not.
Guard duty at the camp was regarded as the worst duty for a reason. It was boring, standing around for several hours in a row, interspersed occasionally with complaints from irritated Nomaj making demands they couldn't fulfill.
Today, though, something unusual did happen. An owl drifted down, landing in front of him, sticking out its leg for him to remove a letter. Wally eyed the checkered Owl Express envelope, eventually removing it and withdrawing the letter inside.
"Who's that from?"
Giving a quick glance to the other guard on duty, he schooled his features into an easy grin. "A note from one of the guys on my last duty assignment, wondering what I did to get stuck here with you. Cover me for a few minutes?"
The man waved him away with a chuckle, and Wally walked outside the gates, squatting down and gripping the parchment tightly as soon as he was out of sight.
Mr. Jacobs, it began:
I have fought with myself for days whether or not to write this letter, much less send it. My name is Aurora Sinistra; until September 1, I was the Astronomy Professor at Hogwarts, where I worked with and knew Manuel Jimenez.
On the night that I left the castle, he told me that I could trust you, that you were a good man. He told me to reach out to you if I needed help. On that same night, Manuel was killed.
The new Headmaster of our school, an American, ordered he and I to hand over two students to the ICW. Manuel refused and held off our pursuers while we escaped. They struck him down with no mercy.
The only reason that I decided to send this was because of his sacrifice. If you would like to meet me for more details, I will wait at the following intersection in muggle London for ten minutes on the 15th of this month. I hope that you are as good a man as Manuel believed you to be.
A.S.
Manny crumpled the letter in his fists, hot tears sliding down his cheeks. 'Why would Manny turn against the ICW?' Then again, how did he know this woman was even telling the truth?
Thinking about his last conversation with his old friend, though, made him less suspicious of any deception. Manny obviously had concerns about what was going on in Britain; truthfully, after seeing that ICW representative torture a helpless woman with the Cruciatus, so did Wally.
That pink-haired young woman, her pummeled visage moaning in pain, crying for her mother haunted him. He'd been ready to attack that man for his cruelty; was it so hard to believe that Manny might have experienced something similar and felt compelled to intervene?
Wiping his eyes, Wally smoothed out the letter, committing the address to memory. He'd meet with this woman.
September 10, 1996
It had been more than a week since Professor Jimenez's death and Neville and Greengrass' disappearance. That event had put a damper on the tense atmosphere that had filled the school since the start of the school year, though the more time passed, the more that reprieve seemed to wane. It was as though the war never happened; pureblood students harassed muggleborns in the halls, being accused of collaborating with the foreign occupation, and whispers of joining the newly active resistance abounded.
For Ron Weasley, that meant straddling a delicate line between trying to tamp down on the blood prejudice while not alienating the purebloods. Neville was wrong - they couldn't just cede control of Hogwarts to the Americans! It was one of the most magical places in all of Britain; it was important, and a veritable fortress sitting right on the border of the largest all-magical population in the whole country.
So he found himself in the strange position, as a student with a long pureblood tradition that was also publicly supportive of muggleborns, of reaching out to the more bigoted Slytherins as well as trying to keep the newly returned refugees from seeing the Americans and French as the lesser of two evils. It was uncomfortable.
"Hey, babe!" He gave Parvati a quick kiss as she and Lavender came down the stairs from the girl's dorm. "Ready for breakfast?"
"Starved, but let's wait for Hermione."
"I don't know that she's coming," Lavender told him, glancing back up the stairs they'd just descended. "She's been having a hard time, being back."
Ron wasn't unaware of that fact. Her boyfriend disappeared the first night back, she was the most well-known of all the muggleborn students, and for some strange reason, the other refugees seemed to shun her. All in all, he was really worried about her.
"Will you go and ask her?" Lavender nodded. "We need to look after her. It's what Neville would have wanted."
Parvati offered him a proud smile, then cheerfully waved at Hermione as she and Lavender joined them. "Glad you changed your mind!"
"I needed to send a letter to my parents, anyway."
"How are they adjusting?"
Hermione shook her head, her hair more frizzy and out of control than ever. "How do you think? It's like a prison camp. They have no way to leave, they're stuck with those bigots with-"
Parvati gathered her into a sympathetic hug, letting her softly cry onto her shoulder. "It's going to be okay. We know it's hard, but you're with friends now."
Ron watched the scene, his housemate's fear only cementing his desire to do something. None of this was right - the occupation, the deliberate push to divide them by their heritage, abducting students and teachers. Things weren't perfect before but they weren't this bad, and they surely would have gotten better, what with the Dark Lord's defeat. The Americans and French were just making everything worse.
Britain belonged to the British, after all.
"Oh, what the hell! Get your arse up, you sodding drunk!"
Sirius groaned, blindly thrusting his arm out in the direction of whoever was making such a racket. "L'emme 'lone."
"No. We've got to figure out what we're going to do next. McGonagall and the others are coming over shortly, and you're no use to anyone if you're blind drunk!"
Neville, had to be Neville. Remus was much more gentle in his remonstrations, and their teacher, who'd been an unexpected addition to their little fugitive troupe, simply ignored him at every opportunity. Originally, Neville and the others had been shuttling around between muggle hotels and inns, but eventually settled with him in Remus' tiny cottage on the outskirts of Kent.
Cedric had made sure that Madam Longbottom knew Neville was safe and to go into hiding herself, and Sinistra's parents had already retired overseas. He and Astoria, however, didn't have anyone left to warn. It had been an emotional moment for him, when Neville had brought the distraught young witch to meet with him.
The youngest Greengrass was really all Sirius had left. He'd failed Nymphadora and her mother, abandoned Luna to play revolutionary, and Harry… well, Harry had never needed him. He wouldn't let Astoria down the way he'd let down everyone else.
"Get up!"
"No! I don't want any part of this. I'm done!"
Neville grabbed his soiled robes, bodily lifting the older man up off the conjured cot. "Pull yourself together! We have to work together, and figure out our next move. We can't just give up!"
"What are we going to do? Storm the Ministry? They're going to finish us. I can't risk Astor-"
"Shut up! Don't use her as an excuse just because you've given up!"
"Go away."
Neville shook him, making Sirius question whether or not he'd be able to keep his nausea at bay. "I'm not going to let you pretend you're looking out for Tori when you're actually just getting drunk and feeling sorry for yourself! Now sober the hell up, put on some clean robes, and get your arse outside for the meeting!"
Laying on the cot, watching the young man stalk out of the cottage, Sirius realized two things. One, Tonks and Andi really didn't deserve to be abandoned to the tender mercies of the Confederation; and two, Neville Longbottom was bloody terrifying for being only sixteen years old.
Morag watched Terry Boot take a seat at the Hufflepuff table, leaning his head towards Zacharias Smith and Ernie Macmillan, their conversation hidden behind a privacy charm. 'Idiots' she thought with scorn.
She didn't know why the Headmaster allowed the students to plot and foment rebellion right under his nose. It was obvious that there was something in the works, though as the Minister's daughter, Morag found there was a shortage of her peers willing to trust her.
Tired of the constant feeling of alienation she got from her housemates, she pushed away her plate and walked back to Ravenclaw Tower, making her way to her empty dorm room. She sat on her bed for a few minutes, then reached into her trunk, withdrawing the engagement ring that Draco had given her the year before.
Contenting herself with idle fantasies about the life that she should have had - raising their children, managing her family business, traveling the world - Morag came to a decision. She reached into her trunk, digging out a crumpled envelope. Brushing away her tears, she stood and started the long walk to the Owlery.
She'd held onto the letter out of familial loyalty, but where was the loyalty her father should have shown to her? Draco was willing to fund their escape from Britain, to keep their family safe from the Dark Lord! Didn't he deserve to see justice done to the monster that killed him in cold blood?
Morag was tired, she was tired of being the perfect daughter, tired of conforming to the stupid etiquette and customs and traditions of people who barely bat an eye when- when the most beautiful man she'd ever known was cut down by a raging lunatic! And then they put a gods-damned medal on his chest!
No. She'd had enough. If her father wouldn't do the right thing, she'd force his hand. And if there were consequences for his choices, well, he'd just have to own up to his corruption. It was why he'd reformed the Ministry, after all.
Attaching the letter to a school owl, she watched the bird until it vanished on the horizon. No regrets, she promised herself, not bothering to wipe away the angry tears.
September 15, 1996
The Harringay Warehouse District was the perfect meeting place. Situated in North London, it was a loose collection of largely abandoned factories and other commercial buildings, the industrial area slowly being converted to a more modern configuration.
This allowed Aurora's… allies? Confederates? She didn't know what to call them. This allowed Neville and his friends to set up on the high ground, disillusioned, with eyes on her and Neville. The two of them stood on the corner she'd listed in her letter, safely ensconced behind muggle-repelling wards, waiting.
"What makes you think he'll show up?"
"I don't know. Nothing, I guess," Aurora said, her eyes in constant motion for anyone that looked out of place.
"What do you think the odds are that the entire American occupation force will show up any minute?"
"No one forced you to come, Mr. Longbottom."
"Save it, Aurora. We're not at Hogwarts any longer, and you're one of us now, whether you like it or not."
She bristled at his tone. "You're still under-age-"
"Yes," he interrupted, "and I'm also the only reason that you're not currently sitting in whatever passes for an ICW lock-up. We're in this together, alright?"
"Fine."
"So?"
Aurora finally turned to her former student. "What?"
"So, how do you know you can trust this man? He's an American auror."
"Manuel promised we could. He gave his life for us to escape with ours. I believe in him, and therefore I believe we have nothing to fear from this Jacobs."
Whatever reply Neville was going to offer, he fell silent as the familiar crack of apparition sounded. A handsome man with sandy-blonde hair, clad in the blue and white robes of the American auror forces appeared. He quickly took notice of them, in their very obvious muggle-repelling bubble, and started forward.
"Aurora Sinistra?" he hesitantly greeted, "I'm Wally Jacobs."
"Well met, Mr. Jacobs. This is Neville Longbottom, one of the students that escaped with me that night."
"I don't understand," Jacobs said, using the opening she offered to dive right into the purpose of their meeting, "What interest does the Confederation have with school children? How did this even come about?"
"Shortly before the term began, the new Headmaster told Manuel and I that there was interest in speaking with some of our students. It came to a head the first night of the term."
"They wanted us because we are the last people in Great Britain that you could call 'close' to Harry Potter. They've shown themselves willing to do whatever it takes to lure him back," Neville said.
"So that's what it was for," the auror said quietly, looking at Neville. "You say you're close with Harry; does he have some connection with two women named Tonks?"
"You know what happened to her?! Where is she?"
"She's being held in the DMLE."
"Tonks is the cousin of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. She disguised herself as him when… when your comrades came to capture him."
"I see."
"We've answered your questions, now I have some of my own," Aurora interrupted, trying to redirect the conversation. "What relation did you have to Professor Jimenez?"
"He was two years ahead of me at Ilvermorny, and he did his Mastery in Transfiguration while I did mine in Charms. We… we never got along all that well," Jacobs said, his eyes taking on a distant look. "At least, not until Harry arrived."
"You know Potter?" He never seemed all that sociable to Aurora, but Merlin, he apparently got around!
"The first time I met Harry was when he came to tour Ilvermorny in '92. When he came back a year later, Manny and I took him under our wing. We helped him prepare for his OWLs, and I know Harry had a big role in Manny's research. After he finished his exams, we… uh, we helped with his dueling."
Neville looked impressed, regarding the American with newfound respect but Aurora didn't see what the big deal was. "If you're close with Potter, what are you doing here as an auror, terrorizing our country?"
"It's my service year. It's not like I could refuse my orders!"
"Manuel did," she countered, and his indignation vanished immediately.
"He was a good man. I wish- I wish that this whole damn mess had never happened. I wish Harry had stayed with us at Ilvermorny and just went for his Mastery and never came back to this accursed country."
Aurora felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily, but before she could pursue that line of conversation, Neville spoke up. "Your regrets don't count for all that much if you're not willing to do anything to make a difference. Professor Jimenez had the courage to not only recognize injustice but stand against it."
"There's not a lot of options. It's not like I can just pack up and go home."
"No, that's true. But you can help us."
Jacobs sputtered in disbelief. "You're saying I should betray my country? My comrades?"
Neville took a step forward calmly, hands extended to show he was unarmed. "All I'm asking is that you listen to your conscience. Just like Professor Jimenez. He saved my life and that of a fourteen-year-old girl. Who can you save?"
"I- I can't listen to this. I just wanted to know what happened to my friend-"
"Okay. We came in peace, and we'll leave the same way. But if you ever decide that you've reached your tolerance, you'll have a place among us."
The handsome young American shook his head, spinning in place and vanishing with a crack!
Neville turned to regard her, a wry grin on his face. "I think that went well."
"Good morning, is Daphne getting ready?"
Harry rubbed a hand through his toused hair. "No, she's still asleep. She's had a few late nights, I think she could use the rest. Want to go out for breakfast today? We can bring her something back."
"Certainly," Dumbledore said, motioning Harry to follow him out of the room to search out a cafe. "Are you prepared for tomorrow?" At long last, the date of their meeting with Dumbledore's associate was only a day away.
Harry shrugged. "Sure, I guess. That place looks good."
Dumbledore looked in the direction that he'd pointed and chuckled. "That appears to be a nightclub, we're unlikely to find breakfast fare, although we may work up an appetite."
"How is it that you speak so many languages?" Harry might have been able to brush off his former Headmaster's fluency in Hungarian but the man had no problem adjusting to their move to Slovakia.
"I've lived a long life, and have always maintained a healthy curiosity. You're more than capable of doing the same, should you choose."
Harry snorted. "I don't know. Most of my travels haven't been very educational in the traditional sense."
"You're sixteen years old. When I was your age, I'd not even left Great Britain. You cannot yet conceive of the options you'll have in the future."
Holding the door open for the elderly man, Harry decided a topic change was in order. "Tell me more about this friend of yours."
"I'm sure you know him by reputation. The Immortal Alchemist, Nicholas Flamel."
It took a few seconds to summon the memory from his First Year, of Susan and Hannah's explanation of the Philosopher's Stone. "That's who we're meeting? Why?"
"He is the only man alive to have been present at the founding of the Confederation. He was a co-author of the original draft of the Statute of Secrecy. His word still carries weight within the organization."
"He's one man, how can he change the minds of the entire ICW?"
They paused while Dumbledore placed their order, then sat down at a corner table before he answered. "The Sorcerer's Assembly - which the Supreme Mugwump oversees - is not the entirety of the organizational structure of the ICW. Now, wait-" he said, holding up a hand to prevent Harry's interruption, "-listen for a moment. Generally, the Assembly meets periodically throughout the year. During my tenure as Supreme Mugwump, the only regularly scheduled meetings took place during the summer."
"Uh, that doesn't make- I mean, it doesn't seem like the ICW is that inefficient, given what's happened back home."
"Indeed, much of the day to day operations are carried out by the bureaucratic structure. Mugwumps come, and Mugwumps go, but the machinery of the Confederation operates in perpetuity."
"So how is Flamel going to fix this?"
Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at a spoonful of porridge, swallowing his bite before answering. "Considering our present circumstances, it is at the same time our only recourse as well as a slim possibility for success. Allow me to be completely honest with you, Harry - I do not know what to do. Through this meeting, I hope that my former master will be able to provide us with a new path to follow."
It was troubling, to hear a wizard with Dumbledore's power and experience admit he was at a loss. "I've never seen you this indecisive. What are you not telling me?"
Dumbledore reached into his business suit, transfigured from robes, and slid over a copy of Zaubererherold, the daily newspaper of magical Austria. "Before you turn to page four, please bear in mind where we are currently seated."
Harry took a deep breath, focusing hard on his rudimentary occlumency as he took in Sirius' swollen face, broken nose, missing teeth, and his tortured expression. "They did this because of me?"
"A transparent and - yes - despicable ploy to draw you into a trap of some sort." They sat in silence for a moment while Dumbledore weighed his reaction. "Your occlumency has improved."
"Don't change the topic. If Flamel can't come up with anything, we're going back."
"Yes. I never doubted you would insist on such a course of action."
"If they want a fight, I'll give them one."
Harry was incensed. There was no way he could talk him out of this. He'd allowed Dumbledore to divert him, to talk Harry into playing it safe, taking the high road. But-
"I quite agree," Dumbledore said, a steely vehemence present in his voice that Harry couldn't recall ever hearing. "This isn't our last chance, it's theirs."
A/N: Lots of ingredients cooking in the pot. We're approaching the conclusion of the second act, so a lot of this was just building in preparation of that. A pretty huge plot point got more attention in the H/Daph scene, that's been referenced before.
The Austrian paper basically translates to "Sorcerer's Herald".
Wanted to send a huuuuuugee shoutout to Victorrules, who caught up with this fic entirely last week, dropping me an excellent review for each chapter. His comments really helped me out with Harry/Dumbledore, which was super helpful and very much appreciated.
Reminder that from here on, any and all updates to my stories will be posted on Mondays; no clues offered which stories will get new chapters each week!
Stay safe, happy, and healthy! ~Frickles
