Author's Note: Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all had a good start into 2018. This is also the year Albus Potter and the Gift of the Goblin will be finished. I hope you will find that the long waiting paid off.
Thank you, livvylane and this-is-not-lyra, for reviewing! Enjoy Chapter 12!
Ernie took a deep breath. "Thank you all for coming to this Extraordinary Conference. As you all know, we are currently facing the biggest crisis since the Second Wizarding War. Today, we have to conceive a concrete plan, how to handle the situation."
Harry was sitting next to the Minister; he looked around. They had decided to confer only with a narrow circle of trustworthy and influential authorities. In Harry's opinion, there were still too way too many persons present, which rather troubled him in view of potential traitors inside the Ministry. After Firenze's death and Teddy being captured in France, his cautiousness had redoubled. Ernie, however, had insisted to invite at least the Heads of the most important Departments, as the crisis concerned many different areas.
Hermione, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was next to him, with a tense expression on her face; Ron looked somewhat more relaxed. Hogwarts Headmistress McGonagall had come, as well as Neville and Professor Arrington. Harry had been doubtful about his presence, but eventually reluctantly agreed to the Minister's and Professor McGonagall's proposition to invite him, as he had been the one to attack the mysterious Fiendfyre caster and furthermore thrown an eye on the Hogwarts teachers' activities. Harry didn't really know much about Arrington's past and was hesitant to fully trust him, but especially Minerva seemed to trust him completely, and no doubt he had exceptional magical skills.
Next to Arrington sat Percy, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Donald Cresswell, the Head of the Goblin liaison office, and Arnold Peasegood, the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Surprisingly, even the Department of Mysteries had agreed to send a representative to their meeting; Professor Saul Croaker was an old, short wizard with a pale skin, which sharply contrasted his jet-black cloak.
All those people were more or less trustworthy, although Harry still felt uncomfortable with some of them. He had met Arnold Peasegood on some occasions, and he struck him as an honourable man, as did Donald Cresswell. Croaker, though, he didn't really know; Harry hardly ever had to do with Unspeakables. Ernie roused him out of his thoughts.
"Harry, could you please give us an overview of the Auror's current activities and the results of your investigations?" he asked.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"The Auror Office is working at full stretch at the problems," he began. "Still, we have had some difficulties to solve them. It is almost certain, though, that radical goblin groups are behind the murders of the last months, including Susan Bones and Audrey Weasley. We managed to capture a goblin who tried to kill Bill Weasley, and used Legilimency on him."
He paused shortly, kicking Ron, who had smirked ironically, in the shin. It was not that they had captured the goblin; in fact, Bill himself had overpowered him. Still, it couldn't hurt to make it appear as if it was a success of the Auror Office in front of the other Departments.
"According to his mind, the pure-blood-radical President Magique candidate Francois Simiol ordered the assault. Thus, we sent Teddy Lupin to France, as a spy. However, Teddy couldn't find any concrete hints that Simiol could indeed have ordered such a deed, or any connections to Britain or goblins whatsoever. Simiol's close confidant Jean-Marie Mensong proved to be exceptionally cruel, however. That's all we know."
"That's all you know?" asked Arrington incredulously. "So was it now Simiol or not? What about Firenze's death? What about the Fiendfyre? Surely, you must have found out something by now, with an army of highly trained Aurors."
The other people in the room stirred surprised, as if they were only just reminded of these problems. Exactly because of this kind of behaviour Harry didn't like Arrington. Whenever he met him, Arrington made him feel like an incompetent schoolboy.
"We don't have an army of Aurors," said Harry through gritted teeth. "And we're still working on those incidents," he admitted grudgingly.
Ernie cleared his throat. "Yes - well - there is still the possibility that Firenze's murderer is in Hogwarts. Do you have any news on that subject?" he asked towards Headmistress McGonagall and Arrington. McGonagall looked at Arrington.
"Not really," he sighed. "I have thrown a close eye on all extraordinary activities from the teachers. Only Smethwyck left the castle sometimes, but nothing suspicious, I'm afraid. We still have to take the possibility into account that a student collaborated with a person from outside Hogwarts. By the way, do you have any idea what the motive for Firenze's death could be?"
Hermione leaned forward. "No. We have thought about it for a long time, but it's a mystery. The whole issue smells like it has a concrete reason, I don't think it's only a symbolic assault. I don't like the recent activities around the Forbidden Forest. Neville spotted a goblin, but when we searched for them, we couldn't find them anymore. The other centaurs cannot be contacted. The goblins suddenly give public statements and offer us their cooperation. All this is most odd."
"What do you suggest to do about it?" asked Ernie.
Hermione hesitated. "Next week, at Molly's funeral, the Aurors should search the Forest thoroughly. We finally need clarity if there are any unusual activities. Besides, we should accept the goblins' offer and lead a conversation with them."
"Harry, Professor McGonagall, Cresswell, do you agree on this?" asked Ernie. All three nodded.
"Excellent. Cresswell, please prepare everything to contact Urguk for a dialogue forum. Harry, Ron, you will organise the examination of the Forest, won't you?"
"Sure," said Harry. He had wanted to properly search the Forest for some time now, and was glad he finally got the permission to do it.
"That's settled then. Which takes us to the Fiendfyre. Professor Croaker, have you found any means to fight or locate Fiendfyre?"
Croaker coughed. "The Department of Mysteries usually examines greater problems than simple enchanted fire. Still, after the dramatic request of the Minister, we did some research on the subject."
"Have you found a counter-curse?" asked Harry.
Arrington snorted. "You of all people should know that this isn't possible, Mr Potter. There can be no counter-curse, because, as has been proven, Fiendfyre destroys Horcruxes. If there were something as simple as an efficient counter-curse, this would obviously not be the case."
"Exactly," confirmed Croaker. "In principle, it might be hindered, theoretically maybe even stopped, but you cannot extinguish it, expect when you're the caster, of course. I'm sure you have spell-inventors who can work out how this is done concretely. Regarding the detection, in theory this should be possible. It is unsure, however, if it can still be detected when it has already been called back. As Fiendfyre is usually only for a short period of time active, it probably has to be located during this span. In practice, this is obviously extremely difficult, as you can't permanently control the whole country. At least not with our current magical methods."
"But the Basilisk venom could in fact be neutralized, right? With Phoenix tears. Maybe there is a similar substance against Fiendfyre?" asked Harry.
Croaker shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think that Phoenix tears would do the job here, and even if they did, we'd probably need a whole lake of Phoenix tears to neutralize something as physically and magically large as Fiendfyre. But I don't think that anyone has really ever wasted much thought on that."
"And that's exactly the problem, right?" said Arrington sharply. "There is no such thing as professional magical research! The Department of Mysteries is wasting its time with abstract themes like time, space, love, with complete nonsense like prophecies and so on! The magical community has never gained any practical use from your work, none at all! The Ministry is engaging a few freelance spell-inventors, who have trouble to earn enough money with this job! Every shop in Diagon Alley makes the owner rich, but no one will spend a galleon for magical research! A few self-employed wizards and witches experiment under completely unprofessional conditions, which is often very dangerous. Pandora Lovegood, a brilliant witch, died because of this, but who in the Ministry cared? And let's face it, all this is exactly the reason why the muggles have overtaken us in so many fields! By their standard, we are practically stuck in the 18th Century, at best! And this is entirely the fault of the eternal retrocession of the Ministry of Magic!"
"You are going too far!" Ernie had jumped up and banged his fist on the table. "Since the Second Wizarding War, we have modernized the Ministry in any possible way! And I don't think there are still many secrets left, over the centuries there has been such a great deal of research that I doubt it would make much sense to waste resources on -"
"You have no idea what you are talking about," said Arrington dismissively. "I have been doing my own research, you know, parallel to my regular job, without any financial or personal support. My research has been comparatively unprofessional and I didn't have nearly enough time to be able to live it up. And still, do you know how many previously unknown spells I found? Mind you, my discoveries were no useless details, but crucial advances! Let a professional group of researches work for a year, under ideal conditions, and our magical methods will be completely revolutionized! But what is the Ministry doing? It's not lifting a finger!"
"That's not true!" shouted Percy. "How dare you make such -"
"We completely got off the subject," interrupted Hermione. "If we can't do anything against the Fiendfyre problem, we should perhaps concentrate on what we do about the tensions with France?"
Everyone was silent, obviously taken aback by Arrington's frontal attack on the Ministry. Exactly knowing the muggles' inventions, Harry felt the Professor might indeed have a point there, although he disapproved of his ongoing accusations against the Ministry. In Harry's opinion, Arrington abused his invitation to this official meeting tremendously.
Percy cleared his throat.
"Regarding France, we are currently facing a difficult situation. By sending a spy, to cap it all an obviously unqualified one, we affronted them. On the other hand, we cannot just ignore Simiol ordering a murder, even if we aren't sure about that, and a French official torturing Teddy Lupin. It is more than likely that Simiol is going to win the election, so I don't think it makes much sense to communicate with the current President, as he has de facto already lost his power. If we want a dialogue, Simiol would be the only sensible address."
Harry looked at his brother-in-law in surprise. Except for the stinger against Teddy, his statement had been more level-headed and reasonable than everything he had heard from Percy lately. Maybe he was at last recovering a bit from his wife's and daughter's death. Harry somewhat admired Percy for his professionality; if Ginny or his children had been killed, he surely wouldn't be able to do such a good job in the Ministry as Percy, whose diplomatic skills and qualifications were still beyond any doubt. Regarding Simiol, Harry didn't know what to do, either. On the one hand, he knew that there was no way around a dialogue; on the other hand, he was reluctant to talk to a radical pure-blood-fanatic, a man who had possibly ordered a murder, a man whose close confidant had tortured his godson.
"Wait a minute there," said Arrington. "Isn't there the possibility that somebody implanted that memory in the goblin's mind? Maybe someone wanted to achieve exactly the tensions between Britain and France. Simiol might indeed be innocent, after all."
A shocked silence followed.
"We have to consider that possibility," said Harry carefully. "Although, in my experience, false memories can be identified quite easily. They appear distorted and clouded. The goblin's memory was comparatively clear, though. Of course, we don't really know much about the goblin mind. I have no idea how we could reliably find out if this memory is real or not."
In the end, it was Hermione who spoke out, what everyone thought.
"Percy, in any case I think you should arrange a personal meeting with Simiol. No one can guarantee that it will be of any use, but at the very least we have to try to clear up all the misunderstandings and set up civil relationships with France. Maybe you should talk to him as well, Ernie."
"No way! He is not yet President, in fact. I won't as well support his campaign by personally meeting him. Percy is more than capable of talking to him, I'm confident," replied Ernie.
"Absolutely," said Percy with a shade of his trademark pomposity, which Harry was almost relieved to hear. "I will set everything in motion."
O
In the evening, Quentin had watched for the opportunity when Adnan and Gabriel were not in the the dormitory. "Albus," he began insistently. "You cannot possibly think of actually going alone into the Forbidden Forest. This whole story with this Resurrection Stone does seem quite obscure. It is much too dangerous! Why isn't your uncle going in there himself?"
"But he is right!" said Albus hotly. "I owe him that much. Molly's death is my fault, at least partially. And there is nothing obscure about the Resurrection Stone. I remember my father mentioning it once to my mother. You read it up in all those books yourself, it does really exist! My Uncle Percy fought in the Second Wizarding War, he is definitely in the know about this."
"But Albus, we've been through this," said Quentin, rolling his eyes. "Nothing you have done would justify to risk your life for a stone which is possibly anywhere hidden in the Forbidden Forest -"
"Oh, come off it," interrupted Albus. "It can't be that dangerous. You saw what Uncle Percy wrote, the centaurs would never let harm befall me. I'm just scurrying inside, take the stone, and run back to the castle. Nothing will go wrong."
Quentin groaned and turned to Scorpius for support. "Scorpius, say something!"
Scorpius looked up from his book in mild surprise. "It's Albus' choice, isn't it? But I don't think it's going to be too dangerous, either. Maybe I'll even accompany him; there must be a lot of interesting plants and animals in the Forest. Why don't you come, too? You could be our guard, so we don't have to worry about security."
Quentin looked as if he wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. He gazed from Albus to Scorpius as if hoping somebody was shouting "April Fool!" When no one did, he just shook his head resignedly.
"How do you want to get there, anyway?" he asked. "I don't suppose you're able to make yourself invisible, are you? If you just march towards the Forbidden Forest in broad daylight, a teacher will notice. At the very least Hagrid."
"Sure," said Albus calmly. "That's why I - or we, if Scorpius really wants to come - will do it at night."
"At night?" gasped Quentin. "You want to go into the Forbidden Forest at night? You can't be serious. Scorpius, you can't possibly agree to this."
"Why? In the Forest, it's dark anyway. Doesn't really matter if we go there at day or at night," replied Scorpius matter-of-factly, shrugging.
Quentin collapsed into his bed. "You're both gone mad," was to be heard from his pillow. "Completely mad."
Albus ignored him. "Let's do it tomorrow night," he told Scorpius, who nodded happily.
"The earlier it's over, the better," he announced.
O
The next day flew by for Albus. He was very excited and eager to enter the Forbidden Forest and retrieve the Resurrection Stone. It was about time he got out of the castle and did something brave. His father had saved the Philosopher's Stone and fought one of Voldemorts followers in his first year. Albus considered himself magically more capable than any other student in his year; he was yearning for an opportunity to prove himself.
Scorpius seemed also to be looking forward to their adventure, although he was slightly more timid in view of the possible perils that lay ahead of them. Quentin, on the other hand, hadn't given up and still tried to stir them from their resolve at any given opportunity.
Albus trusted his Uncle Percy's assurance that no real danger was awaiting him in the forest. Besides, he felt strong and confident. A forest so close to a school could impossibly be that dangerous. And even if something got in their way, he would just transform it or levitate it or use one of the multiple spells and curses he had learned.
After everyone else had gone to bed, Albus, Quentin and Scorpius left the Ravenclaw common room. In his pocket, Albus had stowed the fragile appearing instrument his Uncle Percy had sent him. Quentin, who obviously hoped that they would get cold feet at last minute, started a few last tries to persuade them to return back to the common room. Albus simply ignored him. His mind was completely made up.
When they reached the foot of a staircase, Albus noticed out of the corner of his eye a quick movement from Quentin. A second later, his friend shouted "Impedimenta", his wand aimed at Albus.
Albus reacted without thinking and jumped out of the way, just like Professor Arrington taught him, drew his own wand and cried "Petrificus Totalus!"
His spell was perfectly aimed and struck Quentin at the chest; his arms and legs snapped together and he fell down, stiff like a board.
"Albus!" cried Scorpius. "You have to free him at once!"
"He tried to curse me from behind!" shouted Albus, seething with anger at Quentin.
"But Albus, remember his claustrophobia! He -" Scorpius paused, apparently listening to something. "Someone is coming!"
"Shit," said Albus. "Around that corner!"
Together, they ran out of sight. "Albus! You have to release Quentin!" hissed Scorpius. Albus turned around, murmured "Finite" and finally hurried into the dark corridor, leaning at the wall next to Scorpius and listening anxiously.
"Mr Simiol? What are you doing outside of bed so late?" asked the familiar voice of Professor Longbottom.
Albus' heart dived. Quentin would tell the teacher everything, they would be caught and everything was lost. A short silence followed. Albus closed his eyes.
"I - I was on my way to the library, Sir," stammered Quentin timidly. Albus couldn't believe his ears.
"The library," repeated Professor Longbottom. "The library is closed now, as I'm sure you know. You aren't allowed to be out of bed at this hour. Please don't lie to me!"
"Very well," sighed Quentin. "I wanted to sneak into the Restricted Section."
"I heard voices," said Professor Longbottom sceptically.
"Well, I swore when I heard you coming," offered Quentin.
"I've heard enough," said Professor Longbottom. "Mr Simiol, I am very disappointed by your behaviour. Fifty points from Ravenclaw and a week of detention. Furthermore, I will write a letter to your parents."
"No!" cried Quentin desperately. "Please, Sir, give me a month of detention, but don't write to my father!"
"Don't you try to negotiate with me about your punishment, Mr Simiol! Off you go, to bed!"
Albus heard footsteps going away and finally dying down. His shoulders slumped in relief. For a while, they both remained leaning at the wall, as if they had been the ones to be petrified. "Well, should we go, then?" asked Scorpius unconfidently.
Albus murmured his consent and followed Scorpius. He was still in shock after Quentin's performance. He could have told Professor Longbottom about their intentions, he could have told him that he only tried to stop them. Instead, he had chosen to sacrifice himself; now he had gotten himself a week of detention and, to cap it all, Professor Longbottom would write to Quentin's father, whose reaction Albus didn't even want to imagine. Suddenly, he felt horrible for what he had done to his friend; his heart surged at pity as he realized that Quentin was not betraying him and Scorpius. It must have been terrible for his friend to be petrified yet again, especially with his claustrophobia-trauma only a few weeks ago.
Shaking off all other thoughts, he concentrated on following Scorpius to the entrance hall. They didn't meet anyone else, and finally stepped outside through the portal.