Chapter 36 – Further Machinations

Sirius of course had an amusing story to tell of his confrontation with Snape, though he was discreet enough to tell only Harry and his immediate friends. But though his rendition of the meeting and his warning to the potions master to leave Harry alone was amusing—not to mention highly exaggerated at the very least—Harry could not help but wonder exactly what had occurred between the two of them. Knowing of Sirius's antipathy for Snape, he doubted that the meeting had been as lighthearted as Sirius had related, and he had no doubt angry words and threats had likely been exchanged between the two rivals.

Whatever exactly had taken place, it could not be argued that Harry's potions class on Thursday was far less uncomfortable than Monday's session had been. Whether that indicated that Sirius's discussion with Snape had had an effect, or whatever had been bothering the potions master had been purged from his system by his persecution that first class, Harry could not be certain. He was inclined to believe that it was likely the latter rather than the former, as Snape was much less unpleasant towards Harry, eschewing any potions deductions, while continuing to point out Harry's deficiencies whenever possible. Harry was not about to question his good fortune and bring it up. Potions class the following Monday had brought about a further shift in the potions master's behavior—he completely ignored Harry's existence, certainly a welcome change from open and outright hostility. It was different from the distant but forced politeness with which the git had favored him before winter break, but it was not at all unwelcome. Privately, Harry felt that if Snape would just continue to ignore him for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts, he would cheerfully accept such a change in fortune.

The remainder of the week and the beginning of the next were otherwise uneventful, though the newly undertaken discipline of Occlumency did take up some of his time. The exercises Fleur had taught them were to be undertaken every night, and wanting to bar the Dark Lord from his mind, Harry had been diligent in doing them. So far he considered it to be a success, as he had been able to remember previously forgotten details, and fancied that he had an increased ability to remember facts, particularly those taught in his classes. Whether he was already seeing success was largely irrelevant, Harry thought—sometimes the illusion of success was as important as actually finding success itself.

Unfortunately, Tuesday night, the second week of school, saw an event which underscored the need to deny Voldemort any purchase. It had been a typical school evening. The friends had concentrated on their homework after dinner, adjourning to their borrowed classroom after they had finished for their Tuesday evening session of Occlumency training. Though the training was still in its infancy and the exercises were somewhat tedious in nature, Harry still enjoyed them for the simple fact that they allowed a certain closeness and intimacy, not only with his betrothed, but also with his best friend.

It had gotten late and once the three friends had finished their training, they packed up for the return to the common room, intent upon getting there before curfew—though they did not know who was patrolling that evening and Harry and Hermione were both prefects, it did not make sense to test fate and potentially give Malfoy a chance to pull rank on them, if it was his responsibility to be patrolling that evening. They were just about to leave the room, when Harry felt the connection between himself and Voldemort light up with a sudden and fierce sense of elation. The emotions of the Dark Lord battered him such that for a moment he was nearly insensible.

When the worried voices of his friends finally penetrated the fog of Voldemort-induced glee, and he looked up to the worried countenance of his betrothed watching him with concern, not to mention a little fear.

"Harry, what happened?" Fleur asked, her voice mirroring the expression on her face in her concern.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped. "Not sure what happened, but he's pretty happy about something."

The three looked at each other for a few minutes before Fleur stood and took charge. "Come here, Harry," she said, and she sat down on a chair while Harry took the seat in front of her. "This is the perfect time to talk about pushing another from your mind. Do you remember what I said that if someone gets past your mindscape that you can force them out?"

When Harry nodded, she smiled and grasped his hands. "Think of the feeling in your mind, and imagine that it's a physical thing."

Soothed by Fleur's soft words, Harry closed his eyes and tried to picture the presence in his mind. The elation had dampened a little, replaced by the feeling of overwhelming satisfaction, laced liberally with a sense of smug superiority. In his mind, he tried to imagine that the feelings projected were physical entities which could be touched. In the background he could hear Fleur as she continued to speak.

"As you do this, try to get a feel for them. Imagine you have hands in your mind and use them to push the foreign objects out."

Lulled by Fleur's voice, Harry did as she asked. He summoned his will and imagined him pushing on the mass of roiling emotions surging over his link with Voldemort. At first nothing seemed to happen, but as Harry continued to press on the foreign emotions, he began to feel a shift in the mass. It was slow work, but as it gathered momentum, he could feel the Dark Lord's emotions lessen and then, they suddenly exited his mind, almost like a cork springing from the mouth of a bottle. The sense from Voldemort was not completely gone, but it had lessened now—a dull ache, as opposed to a sharp pain.

Harry opened his eyes and slumped back in his chair, completely drained. He glanced up at Fleur bewildered.

"Remember when I said that pushing someone out of your mind was draining?"

"I remember," Harry groused, running a trembling hand over his forehead. "I didn't think it would knock me on my arse!"

"It's your first time ejecting someone, Harry," Fleur replied gently. "It's not surprising it would be difficult.

"Dobby!" Fleur said, and the excitable little house-elf popped into the room.

"Harry Potter sir!" Dobby cried as soon as he saw Harry's state. "What is happenings to Harry Potter?"

"Harry is fine, Dobby," Fleur responded. "Can you bring us a Pepper Up potion please?"

"Dobby be's doings it, Harry Potter's betrotheds. Dobby be's right back."

The little house-elf popped out and returned within a few moments with the requested potion, which Harry immediately downed, feeling a surge of energy return to his body.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said warmly.

"Dobby be doings anything for the Great Harry Potter Sir!" the little elf exclaimed enthusiastically. "Harry Potter must be callings Dobby for anythings he's be needings. Anythings at all!"

And with that, Dobby popped out, leaving three very bemused humans all smiling at one another.

"Fleur, won't Voldemort feel Harry forcing him out of his mind?" Hermione asked with some concern.

"I don't think so," Fleur responded. "If he was actually trying to force his way into Harry's mind, he undoubtedly would, but I don't think he's even aware that connection exists. Legilimency normally requires a certain amount of concentration, which Voldemort would not be doing through an existing link of this kind. We should be okay.

"But Dumbledore needs to know about this," she said firmly, getting to her feet. "I suggest we go to him now and tell him what has happened."

The three quickly agreed and, gathering their things, they immediately made their way from the classroom and toward the Headmaster's office. Fortunately, they did not meet anyone on the trip. The castle was almost eerily quiet, and though it would be curfew in a few moments, there was still generally some activity even at that late hour. For Harry, the lack of meeting anyone was actually a godsend—the events of the evening had unsettled him and he did not think he was up to casual conversation or tense encounters.

A quick word to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office and the three teens were on the spiral staircase heading up to the office. They were admitted immediately by the sound of the Headmaster's voice bidding them enter.

"I suppose I should have expected you to show up, Harry," Dumbledore said as he greeted them, peering over the tops of his half moon glasses. He appeared to have been engaged in something, and if the soot on his robes was any indication, he had either been speaking over the Floo with someone, or had just travelled through the device. He appeared weary as he moved around his desk and sat heavily on his chair, looking every moment of his more-than-a-century age.

"Something happened," Harry stated.

"Indeed it has. I assume that Voldemort has made an appearance through your link?"

"A burst of happiness," Harry confirmed. "Like something he wanted or was waiting for had happened."

"Unfortunately, an accurate assessment." Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard. "What I am about to tell you should not be passed on to anyone of your acquaintance—they will know soon enough, as I am certain the Prophet will jump on this story very quickly.

"It seems Voldemort has achieved what we had feared all along. Earlier tonight there was a break out at Azkaban. All of Voldemort's followers have disappeared from the prison."

"That's not good!" Harry gasped.

"No, but not unexpected," Dumbledore replied. Then he turned and peered at Harry intently. "You have started your Occlumency training, have you not?"

At Harry's nod, he continued. "Please be diligent. This connection between you needs to be closed as soon as possible."

Harry agreed, but focused back on the break out. "What are we going to do about Azkaban?"

"We will do nothing, Harry," was Dumbledore's firm response. "You need to concentrate on what you can do, not on this business with Azkaban. Keep working on your Occlumency and close off your mind. At the same time, continue to work with your club—the training you do now could very well be the difference between victory and defeat."

"But I can't match Voldemort," Harry said, his tone reflecting the glumness he felt at the situation. "He's had years of experience. I'm still just fifteen."

"That is true," Dumbledore kindly replied. "But remember what you are fighting for, Harry. It is not always the more powerful or knowledgeable who prevails—there is something to be said for determination and fighting for a righteous cause. And remember what—and who—you are fighting for. That may make all the difference.

"Now, if you will all excuse me, I believe that I have some work to do. The Minister will no doubt be wishing for some answers, and I would not wish to miss the opportunity to point out that we have been telling him for months that this would happen."

The comment elicited wry smiles from the three teenagers. They stood to leave, and Dumbledore escorted them from his office. "I will see if I can talk some sense into him. Now, the three of you had best get back to Gryffindor common room and turn in for the evening. Remember your Occlumency training, and learn to protect your mind."

The three descended in silence and it was well into their journey back to the common room before anyone spoke. To Harry it seemed like this was the first step in Voldemort's bid to return to power—a long awaited opening move which would ultimately lead to war. He did not know how the Minister would interpret this disaster, but he doubted the man would suddenly have a change of heart and declare that Voldemort was indeed returned. The game was now afoot.

After two disheartening days of trying to reason with an unreasonable man, Dumbledore stepped from the Floo at Grimmauld Place in a less than congenial mood, knowing that the tenseness of the situation would almost certainly manifest itself in the evening's Order meeting.

The Minister, in short, was completely convinced that he was in the right. Voldemort could not be back—he was known to be dead at Harry Potter's hand all those years ago, and nothing could convince the Minister that it was by his order that the Death Eater prisoners had been released from their cells. The man was infuriating. No amount of persuasion or evidence could convince him of the grave danger which was even now facing them, and he refused to take any sort of action which would shore up their defenses against the onslaught which Voldemort was almost certainly preparing.

Luckily, Madam Bones was not of the same ilk as the Minister. She was quietly increasing patrols and stepping up the training in her department, in accordance with the promise she had made the night of the ball, and though she was not able to make the dramatic hires which were almost undoubtedly required, she was taking action in as direct a manner as she could. The Auror department would certainly be better prepared than had she not begun her preparations, but Albus was privately concerned that the preparations being made would prove to be less than adequate. Unfortunately, the Order would be forced to make up the slack, and it had not been built for combat—the Order was more of an intelligence gathering unit, with perhaps some capability to respond to threats, than anything else, though there were certainly members who were powerful fighters. It was simply not built for pitched battle.

Most of the members of the order had already gathered by the time Albus arrived—Sirius, Minerva, Hagrid, and Severus, had all arrived in advance, and were now waiting with the others, speaking in low tones with the other members present. At least Sirius, Hagrid, and Minerva were—Severus was situated in a dark corner as was his wont and if Albus did not know the man better, he would have sworn Severus was sulking. Suppressing a sigh, Albus turned away and determined to leave the problem of Severus's behavior for another time. There was much more to consider at the present time than a bitter man, even if that man was central to Albus's plans for the defeat of his erstwhile master.

Stepping to the front of the room, Albus surveyed those in attendance. Almost all of the adult members of the Order were present, the most glaring absences, of course, were their younger, newest members. Their exclusion was not a purposeful slight to them, of course, but Albus had decided—after discussing it with Harry and his friends—that unless there were major matters to discuss which would directly affect Harry and his friends, they would not be subjected to routine order meetings. It was just as well—this meeting was not likely to be tranquil, and Harry would benefit far more by concentrating on his studies and preparing himself for what was to come.

The room descended to silence and members took their seats as they noticed that Albus had arrived. "Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to join us today," Albus began. "I believe we should begin the business of the Order."

Taking some time to center himself, Albus took a deep breath and looked out over the crowd. "I believe that we need to begin with the most damaging event of the past week—the Azkaban breakout."

A swell of low murmurings broke out over the room, and Albus could see that this topic had likely dominated the pre-meeting conversation. Unsurprising, really, considering the implications of what Voldemort had engineered.

"First, I believe we should hear from Kingsley regarding this matter. Kingsley, if you will."

The tall man rose to his feet. "There is not much to tell and none of it is good. On Tuesday evening, Death Eaters assaulted Azkaban and freed all of You-Know-Who's supporters from their cells, where they were taken from the island. All of the Death Eaters incarcerated there have been reported to be missing."

"Everyone?" Remus Lupin asked.

"Yes," was Kingley's grim response. A shudder ran through the gathered members—the escape of the Lestranges, Mulciber, and the other assorted Death Eaters was not an inconsequential matter. Bellatrix particularly was known to be a powerful witch, ruthless and of questionable sanity and nonexistent morals. No one in the room was anxious to face her at wand-point, and the rest of the escapees were not much better.

"And what is the status of the prison now?" Albus prompted.

"The prison is still under the control of the warden, and the few prison guards who are normally employed," Kingsley stated. "The Dementors are still present and still guarding the remaining prisoners. It seems clear that they simply stepped aside and allowed the Death Eaters to enter and remove who they wanted."

"And the other prisoners?" Jean-Sebastian asked. "Has anyone else escaped? For that matter, were any of the guards killed in the break out?"

"It seems like the Death Eaters were under orders to simply break their people out and leave. Everyone else was left in their cells, and the guards were not harmed, though they were incapacitated while the escape was taking place."

"That doesn't sound like the work of Death Eaters," Sirius said with a frown. "They normally shoot to kill, and never bother to ask questions."

"I suspect that their orders were due to the benefit they currently enjoy from

Minister Fudge's policies," Albus suggested. "The Ministry obviously cannot cover up the escape itself, but they can try to minimize it. The Dementors are, of course, a matter of great concern, and I hardly think I need to point out that they are now more unreliable than ever. But as the Ministry nominally controls them, and as they are still in residence, Fudge can claim that the breakout was somehow accomplished in spite of their presence. The deaths of the prison guards would have been that much more difficult to cover up."

"So Voldemort leaves the Dementors there, even though he may have bought their allegiance," Sirius stated. "And since there are no deaths to report and Fudge is 'taking measures' to make sure the prison is secured so that this cannot happen again, he can essentially brush it under the rug."

"I believe that adequately sums up the situation, Sirius," Albus confirmed. "Trust me, I have spent many hours in the past two days trying to talk some sense into our esteemed Minister, and I have had no success whatsoever. Minister Fudge feels that he knows the answers, and is not willing to listen to my opinion, despite any evidence to the contrary."

Dumbledore allowed the revelations of the past few moments to sink in. In truth, most of it should not have been a surprise, though perhaps the fact that Voldemort spared the guards at the prison generally flew in the face of his normal operating procedure. But it was a brilliant stratagem, to be certain—Voldemort knew that the Minister claimed he had not returned and was well aware of the man's desire to avoid any unpleasantness, and by managing the breakout in the manner he had, he ensured the Minister would downplay the event, and introduced additional uncertainty into the equation. Were the Dementors actually now allied with Voldemort, or had he merely come to some agreement with them which induced them to step aside while he removed his people from the prison? Albus could not imagine what Voldemort could have tempted them with, if not the souls of his enemies, so it seemed to make sense that he had left them at Azkaban specifically to keep the story from becoming bigger than it already was. The Dementors leaving Azkaban would have prompted hysteria, almost demanding that Fudge do something about it—their continued presence there allowed him to sweep it all under the rug.

In Albus's mind, the only option was to assume the Dementors were no longer under the Ministry's control. He was almost certain that they would eventually start to appear during Death Eater attacks, and though those attacks had been sporadic thus far—mostly limited to the Death Eater favorite "Muggle baiting"—Albus could not fool himself into thinking that there were not more of them on the horizon. No, Voldemort was likely concerning himself more with finding out exactly what the prophecy contained and keeping a low profile for the time being—this breakout signaled that the conflict was likely going to become that much hotter in the coming weeks and months.

"And what of the Minister?" Sirius asked. "What is he trying to blame this incident on?"

It was a valid question as, though the escape had occurred almost two days before, Fudge had as yet resisted making a statement. The prophet was publishing wild theories, blaming everything from rogue Death Eaters—Voldemort was still not an acceptable scapegoat, due to the Ministry's insistence that he had not returned—to foreign sympathizers, to even a small column insisting that Sirius himself had somehow managed to defeat Veritaserum and lie during his trial, and was actually trying to take over the magical world.

"The Minister is being very careful not to give an opinion," Dumbledore replied after a moment. "Even to me he has not suggested an opinion, though I do sense that he is a little put out that your exoneration his removed you as one on whom he could potentially blame for the debacle."

Sirius snorted rather indelicately. "I'm so sorry to have interrupted our esteemed Minister's political scapegoating ambitions. I suppose that is why that story in the Prophet aired." Sirius had been most adamantly not amused when he had seen the article in the Prophet, and it had been no difficult task to deduce that the paper—known as it was to be the propaganda engine for the Ministry, and the Minister in particular—had run the story as an attempt to sow doubt and take the heat from the Minister.

"You're such an easy target, Black," Severus drawled. "Perhaps you should try keeping a low profile. If such a thing is even possible for you."

It was to Sirius's credit that he ignored Severus's words. Albus frowned at the potions master—and was ignored, of course—and he determined that he would likely need to speak with Severus to ask him to curb his disdainful and antagonistic toward the former Marauders, and Sirius in particular. They were all fighting on the same side, and whether Sirius truly believed that Severus was tied firmly to the light, Albus did know it to be the case. As usual, thus far the problem was not the Marauders, but with the Slytherin.

"Something must be done about Fudge, Albus," Sirius stated while glancing around the room, daring anyone to disagree with him. "He is making it bloody impossible to win this war. He's got to go."

A murmur of agreement ran through the room, and Albus had no compunction whatsoever in adding his own agreement to the consensus.

"It is unfortunate that the Minister cannot be persuaded to act for the good of the people. This must be handled delicately."

"Delicately is hardly the word, Albus," Arthur disagreed. "You're speaking of removing a sitting Minister. He would claim treason if he knew what was being discussed in this room."

To Arthur's side, Jean-Sebastian spoke up, his voice stern and authoritative. "No one is suggesting treasonous acts, Arthur. However, the Minister is directly responsible for the lack of preparedness against the Dark Lord's advances. He must be removed."

"Though I still do not have the votes required to oust him, I believe there may be other ways we can utilize to remove him from office, Arthur," Albus interjected, trying to ensure that there were no arguments to interrupt their meeting. It was important to ensure that they stood as one without bickering—Voldemort ensured loyalty in his own followers, and those who opposed him could not hope to defeat him if they were not similarly united. "I shall give some more thought to a plan. It is possible that we may be able to make some of the Minister's less savory acts in office public so as to force him to resign. We will need to consider all angles, including who we prefer to take up the Minister's role when he is finally removed."

No further comments met Albus's statement, and though Arthur still appeared to be a little uneasy—he was a Ministry employee, after all, and Fudge was his direct senior—he did not protest any further. Arthur was a laid back and patient man, but Albus knew that he was intelligent. Arthur obviously knew that the Minister needed to go, but the upright and law-abiding man in him rebelled at the thought of any underhanded or downright illegal activities, even if they would improve the situation. Albus could not fault him for his opinions.

"Now, if we are finished discussing the Azkaban escape and its ramifications, shall we move on to the next item?"

The rest of the meeting passed without the sparks generated by the opening topic, and if Sirius was to be honest with himself, largely without his knowledge. The matter of the Minister's stupid refusal to see anything beyond the end of his nose infuriated Sirius, and he most wished to have the man in front of him at that moment so that he could rearrange the man's nose so that it would more resemble a smashed pumpkin than a nose.

The fact that his name had once again been brought into the public's mind though Sirius had been very publicly exonerated was just another reason to despise the man. He smelled a rat in that story, as he had stated to Dumbledore, and the rat involved was a very different sort from his erstwhile animagus friend.

The thought of Peter caused an all new form of disgust to make itself known within the confines of Sirius's brain. Peter still evaded his just desserts for the betrayal and murder of Sirius's closest friend, and Sirius was eager to pay the little git back. It would not be pretty—of that Sirius was determined.

At length the meeting adjourned and the members of the Order began to break up, as the dull noise of conversation began to fill the room. Sirius stood and glanced at Moony who had sat at his side.

"Fun times, isn't it?" the werewolf said with a grimace.

"Well you sure haven't changed over the years if you think this is fun," Sirius groused. "I think you should get your head checked, Moony."

"I'll get mine checked if you do the same," Remus replied.

Sirius flashed his friend a brief grin, though he did not respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Dumbledore was approaching them, and the expression on his face suggested that he had something serious to discuss with them.

"Sirius, Remus," Albus greeted them before turning to address another order member standing nearby. "Ah, Nymphadora, can you please step over here for a moment?"

"That's Tonks," the young Auror replied good-naturedly, though with a hint of steel in her voice. She did as she was bid, however, and after greeting the two men, turned her attention to the Headmaster. Sirius grinned at her with some amusement—he had enjoyed the limited time he had had to get to know his cousin, and he found her to be intelligent, playful, and a genuinely caring person. Andromeda's stamp on her was easy to see, though Sirius shuddered to think of how she might have turned out had she been born to one of the other two sisters. Actually, he had met Draco, so he figured he knew exactly how she would have turned out.

"Remus, Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said, purposefully emphasizing Tonks's last name, as his eyes twinkled with amusement, "I wonder if I might request your assistance in an extremely important matter."

Though the two named were clearly uncertain as to why they had been singled out—and more importantly, why they were singled out together—they both immediately indicated their willingness to help wherever required.

"I would like to request your presence at Hogwarts on Sunday for a rather delicate meeting."

Moony appeared genuinely surprised at the Headmaster's request. "A meeting at Hogwarts?" he asked with a frown. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Is that the important matter you mentioned? What do you need us for?"

"I am sorry, Remus, but I cannot be more explicit now." The Headmaster glanced around the room and, though there were still many order members present, no one seemed to be paying them any special attention. "Unfortunately, the nature of this meeting must be kept completely confidential, and I cannot speak openly here."

This piqued Sirius's interest—if Dumbledore would not speak of it in a room full of Order members, then it was obviously something not known to the larger group. About the only thing Sirius could think of which would fit in that category was the issue of the horcruxes. Knowing how secretive the Headmaster could be at times, he was not certain why Dumbledore would suddenly shift course and speak of something which was private and critical, but he could not think of anything else.

At his side, Moony and Tonks exchanged glances before Remus responded. "Of course, Headmaster."

A few moments later, they had agreed on the time and Dumbledore left, claiming a prior engagement which demanded his presence, neatly forestalling Sirius's plan to interrogate him on the subject of his proposed meeting. He frowned as he watched Dumbledore walk away, wondering what he was up to.

"So what's going on?"

Moony's question caught Sirius by surprise, but he quickly responded with a shrug. "Sorry, Moony, I have no idea."

"You mean you've been in the castle for two weeks and you still haven't managed to ferret all of his secrets out?"

Sirius rolled his eyes at his friend. "I'm working on it. Give me a little time."

"If what I heard of the Marauders is true, then you're slipping, Sirius," Tonks interjected with a teasing smile. "It must have been all those late night dates with that hot therapist you're always talking about."

"I'll ask you not to make fun of me," Sirius responded with mock affront. "I get enough of that from him." He jerked his thumb at Moony, who merely shrugged it off, showing a deliberate nonchalance.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Sirius continued. "Until then, I think I'll hold off on speculating." He then winked at his friend, who guffawed in response. "If I find out, I'll owl you."

"Find out what?"

The new voice behind him startled Sirius, and he turned to see a small, pretty woman, with hair as black as his own, standing looking at them.

"Hey, Hestia," Tonks said by way of greeting.

The woman peered back at them, one side of her mouth upturned in a half smile. "Hello, and the same to you, Remus." Her eyes shifted to Sirius, and she inspected him unabashedly. "I understand you are Sirius Black?"

"In the flesh," Sirius responded, turning on a little of the old Black charm, while ignoring the snickers from his two companions. "And you are?"

"Hestia Jones," the woman responded. "But you lot still haven't told me what you're trying to find out."

"Just a private matter of a bet between myself and Remus, here," Sirius lied with aplomb. He then regarded Hestia with some speculation. "With that name, can I assume that you're related to Gwenog Jones?"

Hestia rolled her eyes. "Third cousin. You know, it's amazing that everyone asks me that. It's not like Jones is an uncommon name—I don't know why everyone assumes."

"But everyone is right, aren't they?"

A laugh met Sirius's statement. "I guess I can't dispute that. So I understand that you are now teaching at Hogwarts?"

"And heaven help us if the students actually listen to him," Remus interjected.

"Hmm… I seem to remember that I'm not the first one of us to have taught at Hogwarts," Sirius pointed out.

"Perhaps," Remus allowed. "But I'm responsible. You'll never be responsible!"

"Well, I think I've had about enough of being the butt end of your jokes, Moony," Sirius responded with a sniff. "If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll head back to the school. I have a long day tomorrow of mentoring our young."

Turning on his heel Sirius walked away, but not before directing a wink at Hestia, who was watching him with some amusement. Behind him he heard Remus and Tonks snickering as he left. Moony had better watch out, Sirius thought—this treatment called for some sort of payback, and his time with the Marauders had left him adept at coming up with suitable forms of revenge.

On Friday evening about half an hour before curfew, Hermione made her determined way toward the Headmaster's office. She had given a lot of thought on the situation with Harry and the burden he now carried and she wanted to help. There was one thing in particular that she was very good at, and she meant to offer her services to the Headmaster if it would help Harry.

The gargoyle dutifully reported her presence to the occupant of the office stepped aside allowing her to ascend via the spiral staircase which began to move as soon as she stepped on it. She made her way to his office and entered, only to see Professor McGonagall, who was apparently wrapping up some sort of discussion with the Headmaster.

"Hello, Miss Granger," the Transfiguration Professor greeted her as Hermione stepped into the office.

"Professor, Headmaster," Hermione greeted them, suddenly bashful.

"I take it you are not here regarding your capacity as a Prefect, and that my presence is not required?"

"No Professor," Hermione responded.

"Very well, then." She turned to the Headmaster. "If that is all, Albus?"

The Headmaster waved her off. "I believe we are quite finished, Minerva. Thank you for lending me your insight."

McGonagall inclined her head and left the office, leaving Hermione feeling rather uncomfortable sitting in front of the Headmaster's desk, while his keen gaze rested upon her, seemingly sizing her up. Hermione suddenly realized that she had never been to the Headmaster's office by herself, and as she had always been in Harry's company during his not infrequent visits, Dumbledore's attention had always been more upon him. It was more than a little intimidating, if she was to be honest with herself, and she could only hope that under his measuring gaze, she was not found wanting.

"I understand you have a matter to discuss with me, Miss Granger," the Headmaster stated, startling Hermione from her thoughts. The Headmaster could obviously sense that she was ill at ease, for he kindly mirrored her silence and waited for her to gather herself. His consideration restored a measure of her confidence and she was able to focus on her self-appointed task.

"Yes, Headmaster. It's… it's about Harry."

Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I assure you, Miss Granger, that everything that can be done for your friend is indeed being done."

"I know, Professor," Hermione quickly replied. "I just… I feel that there is something I can do to help. More than I'm doing, that is."

"I do appreciate your offer, Miss Granger. However, you are yet young and we are dealing with very dark magic, to which I will not willingly expose you. You are still a student—a gifted student, yes, but still a student and a young woman. I believe it would be best if you left this to me."

Hermione expected this kind of push back and she had her arguments ready. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you once said that you expected us to be able to add new insight to your deliberations, and I believe this extends to helping Harry defeat Voldemort. I believe I can help."

The next few moments were uncomfortable as the Headmaster watched her, seemingly in thought. The feeling that she was being measured once again crept over her, and she fancied she knew how a mouse felt as it realized the cat was stealthily tracking it.

"What do you propose?" Dumbledore finally asked.

"Just that you allow me to help. I understand that you don't want me to delve into subjects which are too dark. But surely there is some research I could help you with." Hermione paused and smiled. "I've been told in the past that I'm relentless when it comes to researching a subject which interests me."

"And does Harry know that you're here tonight?"

"No, and I'd prefer he didn't find out."

The Headmaster leaned forward in his chair, studying Hermione intensely. Once again she was uncomfortable, as though he was seeing more in her than she cared to show to another person, and for all she knew he had. He was very perceptive, after all, and after many years as an educator, teaching, mentoring, and guiding young people, he had probably learned a few tricks about how to read someone like her.

"Why would you not tell him you would like to help him?" he finally asked.

"He knows I want to help him," Hermione replied, trying to sort out her own thoughts and feelings. "I… This is quite different to me. I know that the Horcrux is in Harry, but we don't know much about it, including how to remove it. I guess I don't want to get his hopes up by telling him."

"A sensible precaution, given the situation. But I can't help but sense there is something else behind your offer."

"I just want to help Harry," Hermione insisted.

"Very commendable." The Headmaster continued to peer at her. "You spend an inordinate amount of time with Mr. Potter—though I suppose you always have—but I can't help but wonder about your feelings, given the fact that he is now betrothed to Miss Delacour."

"My feelings are irrelevant, Sir," said Hermione, beginning to get a little annoyed with his insistence upon this line of questioning.

"Our feelings are part of who we are." Dumbledore leaned back in this chair and clasped his hands together. "If I am to allow you to have access to sensitive information I must know your every motive. Why you want to help, the nature of your feelings for Mr. Potter, the state of your relationship with Miss Delacour—these things are all relevant to the discussion at hand. I have no doubt in your capabilities, as you have proved your competence in that sense many times over."

"But why?" Hermione asked a little plaintively.

"Because it all speaks to your emotional state, as well as your motives. I believe it will also help for you to talk this out—sort out your feelings with the help of another, as it were."

"It's not like I need to do that," Hermione muttered.

"Ah, so you have been speaking with someone," Dumbledore responded with a knowing smile. "Would I be amiss in assuming that your confidante is Miss Delacour?"

Hermione shook her head. Dumbledore smiled again, but he appeared a little distracted, as though weighing something in his mind. At length, he turned back to her and in a gentle voice, began speaking again.

"Miss Granger, does Mr. Potter know the extent of your feelings?"

"We haven't told him yet."

"So that means that you have discussed this with Miss Delacour?" At Hermione's nod he continued. "And I can assume by what you've told me, that she does not resent you for your feelings? You have a much longer history with Mr. Potter than Miss Delacour possesses, after all."

"Fleur was the one who pushed me."

Though Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, he gave no other overt reaction. "That is perhaps a little… precipitous of Miss Delacour. Still, I suppose I can understand her motivation. It must have been difficult for them both." He peered at Hermione. "Again I will ask you—does Mr. Potter know of your feelings?"

"I am sure he suspects," Hermione replied evasively.

"So you have not told him." Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard. "Miss Granger, I am going to give you some advice. Admittedly, I am not certain that I am one to speak, as I have had little luck with matters of the heart over the course of my life. However, having served many years at this school, I think that I have been fortunate to gain a certain insight into such things, and I believe I would like to share this with you.

"In short, I think that it is not a good idea for you and Miss Delacour to keep this matter to yourselves. If you harbor feelings for Mr. Potter, don't keep them to yourself. Share them with him. Yes, it is a risk, but I think you risk far more by not speaking up."

"We are going to," Hermione hastened to reply. "We're just waiting for the right opportunity."

"Good. I believe you will not find yourself disappointed. Now, the other matter I must ask you about. I assume you have given this a great deal of thought, but have you spoken with your parents about this?"

Hermione shook her head. "I suppose I do not need to tell you of the obstacles in your path. Your parents may not understand, though I would hope that they will always accept your choices."

"I believe they will."

"That is good. But do not keep it from them too long."

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore regarded her with a smile on his face. "I believe then that you have answered all of my questions. Contrary to the impression I may have given at the outset of our discussion, I can certainly use your help, Miss Granger."

Relieved, Hermione tentatively smiled in response. "Thank you, sir."

"It is I who should be thanking you. Unfortunately, I cannot devote every waking moment to discover a solution for Harry's dilemma, much as I wish that I could do so. And though I feel guilty, I believe that I must think of the larger picture and concentrate on discovering the objects Voldemort used for his horcruxes, which cuts into my efforts to finding a method of removing the horcrux from Harry. Both are important, but at the moment, I believe that discovering the 'what' supersedes the 'how to remove'.

"Your offer to assist helps in this matter. While there are other plans in the works to discover more of the nature of horcruxes, I believe you can assist in sorting through the knowledge we already possess. I am continuing to acquire books which contain information on the subject of dark magic and horcruxes in particular. If you could concentrate your efforts on discovering how to remove a horcrux, I will work on finding out what items Tom used to create any other horcruxes."

To say that Hermione was ecstatic would be an understatement. She assured him that she was more than willing to assist in whatever manner he thought best. Dumbledore then stood and approached a bookcase situated to the side of the room. He inspected the shelves for a moment before he took several heavy and ancient-looking tomes, and piled them in his arms before he returned and set them down on the desk in front of her. Hermione was not able to glimpse any titles or names, but some of the designs on the sides were intricate, and more than one contained symbols and etchings that to Hermione looked somewhat satanic in nature. If these books were as old as she suspected, they could potentially date back to the time when magicals had been openly religious. If they were, then there no doubt had been elements of magical society who had dabbled in the opposite end of the religious spectrum, much the same as Muggle society still did to this day.

"Now, I believe we can start with these. I have gone through them briefly and I believe that they may contain references to the information we are seeking. All, at the very least, contain references to horcruxes, while I made certain none of them go into any detail about horcrux creation—that is a subject to which I will by no means expose you to.

"In addition, I have also made certain that there are no traps or dark magic on the books. However, I urge you to be cautious—if you find anything which seems to be out of the ordinary, close the book immediately and bring it to me."

Hermione readily agreed to this condition, prompting Dumbledore to continue. "Finally, I will ask you not to share this with anyone—not even Mr. Potter and Miss Delacour. I must have your word on this, or I will not allow you assist me."

"I promise, Headmaster," Hermione solemnly avowed. "I wouldn't want either of them to know about this anyway."

"Good. Now, as for the books themselves…" Dumbledore drew his wand from his robes and began waving his wand in a complex series of motions, all the while chanting under his breath. The books on the desk began to glow as he continued, finally flashing once brightly before the light dissipated, and leaving the books appearing as normally as they ever did.

"There. I have just placed a ward on those books. In essence, it is an attention ward, which will direct attention away from them. You and I are keyed into the ward and will not be affected."

"So others won't be able to see them?"

"Not exactly," Dumbledore corrected. "The books themselves are still visible, but anyone other than you or I will consider them unimportant and beneath their notice. Thus, they will be protected from prying eyes.

"Now, please be careful in your research, and come to me if you find anything." Dumbledore made his way around the desk and, opening one of the drawers in his desk, he pulled out a small slip of parchment. "Keep this with you at all times," he instructed while his scribbled on the parchment. "This is a pass to access the restricted section of the library—you may be able to cross reference some of the material you find in these books."

He straightened and held his hand out, offering the parchment to her, which she took eagerly. She had always wanted access to the restricted section; the bibliophile in her was ecstatic, so much so that she had to consciously remind herself that he had given her the pass for a reason, and would expect that she would not misuse it for the purpose of browsing.

"Be cautious, look only into the sections which pertain to your task, and make certain that you come to me with anything you discover."

"I will. Thank you, Headmaster—I appreciate the chance to help Harry."

"You are most welcome, Miss Granger." The Headmaster smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "In fact, I am very glad that Mr. Potter has such devoted friends. With such friends, I do not see how Voldemort can ever defeat him."

After agreeing with him, Hermione waited while he placed a featherlight charm on her bag—the tomes were very heavy after all!—and left with his final admonishments ringing in her ears. Inside Hermione was excited, though somewhat subdued by the responsibility he had given her. Here was finally a chance to help Harry and though the conversation had been uncomfortable, she knew it had been worth it. She would find a way to help her dearest friend.

On Sunday evening, Harry walked into the Headmaster's office in the company of his two closest friends, wondering at the summons he had received. It had been a typical weekend—after spending some time relaxing from the efforts of the previous week, interspersed with a few hours completing his homework for the coming week, Harry had anticipated a lazy night in the company of friends. That had been interrupted when Sirius had met them at the entrance to the Great Hall after dinner, telling him that his presence was required in the Headmaster's office.

He was being very mysterious about the whole thing, though he claimed not to know what was going on any more than Harry did himself. Harry suspected that he may know a little more than he let on, but was unable to induce Sirius to cough up any more information, and neither of his companions knew what this was all about either.

In the office, he found to his surprise that not only were Jean-Sebastian and Apolline present, but also Remus and, oddly enough, Tonks had also joined them.

The greetings were made—somewhat enthusiastically for Remus, whom Harry had not seen in some time—and the occupants of the office found their seats. Glancing around the room, Harry noted that the other attendees were clearly in the dark about what was happening, the same as he was himself. Dumbledore, though, appeared to be in a good—if serious—mood, and because he did not appear to be overtly distressed, Harry allowed himself to relax a little. Clearly this would not be another revelation session like he had had at the end of the winter break.

"Thank you all for joining me this evening," Dumbledore said by way of opening the meeting. "I have asked you all to attend this evening to discuss a rather serious matter and to propose a possible method of dealing with it." His gaze swept over the group. "But first, there are some among us who do not know the entirety of the situation," his eyes rested on Remus and Tonks, "and I think an explanation first is warranted."

Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's, and knowing he was asking for permission to discuss the horcrux situation, Harry nodded his head. The Headmaster then proceeded to explain the concept of horcruxes and what they suspected Voldemort may have used to create them, including the number they suspected him of making and the items which had already been confirmed. By the end of his explanation, Remus was holding his head in his hands and Tonks was visibly pale. It was Remus who reacted verbally first.

"We promised to protect him," he stammered. "We've failed."

"We did promise, Moony," Sirius interjected, patting his friend on the back. "But there's nothing we could have done to prevent this, other than to go back in time and not make Wormtail the secret keeper. And that was my decision—you were not involved!"

"Such speculation is truly pointless," Dumbledore interjected. Harry had drawn breath to speak and was neatly interrupted by the Headmaster, something he felt the man had intended. And it was probably for the best—it was better they focus on the solution rather than try to mitigate blame, and though Harry could not say for certain what he had meant to say, it likely would have been something meant to exonerate them all from any blame. Such sentiments were counter-productive—the situation was what it was and it made sense to focus on what to do about it.

"I believe we should concentrate on the matter at hand. There are some actions we can take to try to resolve this situation, and though there are some measures already being taken, I have an idea which may bear fruit. If you are willing, Remus, I could use your assistance to further this endeavor."

"Anything," Remus stated fervently.

"Not much is known of the origins of the horcrux ritual," Dumbledore stated, "and not much is known about the ritual itself. Though Tom Riddle managed to somehow discover the means to do the ritual, whatever resource he used has not been found."

"Do you have any idea where he would have found such information?" Jean-Sebastian asked.

"Unfortunately, I do not. However, what is known is that he created his first here at Hogwarts."

"I don't think there's a section on horcruxes in the restricted section, Albus," Sirius interjected.

"No, there is not. However, it is also known that he found and entered Slytherin's chamber before he created his first horcrux. Though Slytherin was not known to have made any of those vile creations, it is entirely possible that he had some information on them. Whether Voldemort found instructions for completing the ritual, or simply found enough that he was able to piece the rest together is largely irrelevant. I suspect he has either destroyed whatever he did find, or he hid it away.

"What seems obvious, however, is that some information was still available at that time in England, and I'm certain among his other activities, he searched out and destroyed any other references to them he could find. His is the narcissistic type of personality which would want to safeguard such precious information and ensure that no one else could replicate his 'immortality'."

"Does a horcrux actually grant immortality?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "I do not wish to get into a long conversation about the philosophical benefits of having a horcrux, Harry. Suffice it to say that after a fashion the horcrux does grant 'a form' of immortality, but that the price one pays for it is terrible. The salient point is that as long as Voldemort retains a horcrux, his spirit is anchored to this earth, and whether he should die violently or of old age, he could always be brought back by a ritual similar to the one you witnessed last year.

"The advantage we do have," Dumbledore continued, "is that I do have a few references which give me some information on the origin of horcruxes. Unfortunately, it's not enough to pinpoint where to look for a more detailed description, but it does help us specify a general location."

Sitting back in his chair, Dumbledore's voice took on a lecturing tone, one common to educators explaining a point before an audience. Harry surreptitiously glanced around the room. With the exception of the elder Delacours—who were the only ones present who had not attended this school under Dumbledore—those listening had a deferential, and almost awed expression of interest on their faces. It struck Harry just how much influential power this man possessed, not only in his legend and his prowess in both the martial and political arenas, but also due to the fact that he had been the Headmaster to every influential member of British magical society in the past fifty years. There were other schools in England, of course, but Hogwarts was considered the best, and most of those who would become leaders of society would pass through these halls. Suddenly, Harry was very much grateful that this man was on their side.

"The horcrux is an ancient Egyptian spell, dating back to the centuries before Christ during the time of the Pharaohs. It is thought that a Greek by the name of Herpo the Foul—who lived in Lower Egypt at the time—managed to create the first working horcrux, though the history I saw did not specify Herpo as the one who actually invented the magic. It is equally unclear whether the inventor's purpose was originally evil or benign—the nature of the spell suggests it was for evil purposes, but the intentions of the creator may have been very different. If it was Herpo who invented it, then he undoubtedly had evil intentions, as he was known to be a dark wizard of some repute. Regardless, the location at least gives us somewhere to start. If Herpo was the inventor, then he would have done it somewhere in the Nile delta. Even if he did not invent it, I suspect it was likely created somewhere along the Nile, given the composition of the Egyptian empire of antiquity and the fact that most of its inhabitants lived close to the river which gave life to their civilization. Some record of it may still exist if one looks closely enough. It was a spell which was imported to England, after all, and all indications are that it was never well known here. That may be different in Egypt.

"Therefore, I propose that we send some agents to Egypt to search for references. If we are able to find anything, we may be able to piece together a method of removing the horcrux from Harry's scar, or we may find a method which already exists. Either way, I believe we should do more than just search here in England—Egypt may hold the answer."

A surge of hope welled up within Harry as Dumbledore spoke. He had tried to be positive over the past several weeks, and he thought he had largely accepted the situation, but it was wearing on him. This was a potential solution and one which may actually be within reach. It would be difficult, but anything was better than waiting around to heroically die in a final confrontation with Voldemort.

"I presume this is why you asked me to be here, Albus?" Remus asked.

"Indeed it is," the Headmaster confirmed. "I believe that your ties to Harry and your intelligence make you an ideal choice for this mission. In addition, your nature gives you benefits which may be necessary should you run into trouble."

Remus glanced over at Harry, and after a smile appeared on his face, he turned back to the Headmaster and nodded. "I'm in. The only problem I have is that my finances are a little… shaky since I had to leave Hogwarts."

"I will fund this little jaunt," Sirius interjected firmly. "The Blacks have whittled away our fortune for centuries on this Pureblood cause, or that dark lord. It's time it was used for something more positive."

"Very good, Sirius," Dumbledore replied. "I had thought of hiring Remus on to an advisory position in the school in order to fund the mission, but your offer will ease the strain on Hogwarts' finances."

"But what am I here for?" Tonks asked.

"Quite simply, I mean for you to accompany Remus on his mission," Dumbledore said. "Not only will Remus require some backup and assistance, especially at certain times, but your unique abilities make you an obvious choice for this mission."

"You should tell her, Albus," Remus interrupted. "She deserves to know what she will be dealing with."

Tonks merely rolled her eyes. "I already know about your furry little problem and it doesn't bother me."

When Remus turned an accusing eye on Sirius, Tonks laughed and preempted Remus's accusations. "Don't blame my cousin here. I spent time with you both in that hole the Black's called their home and I'm trained to notice things. It wasn't hard to figure it out. Sirius merely confirmed my suspicion."

"What special abilities does Miss Tonks possess?" Jean-Sebastian asked.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," Tonks responded, turning her hair green, before it reverted to its previously brilliant pink hue.

"Useful indeed," Jean-Sebastian replied, though he said nothing further.

"But I do have a slight problem," Tonks continued as she turned to face the Headmaster. "I do have a day job, and I doubt they will let me go for the amount of time this mission is likely to take."

"I have already taken care of that," Dumbledore replied. "Madam Bones has given me the go-ahead and reassigned you to Hogwarts. You are clear, and will continue to receive your pay from the Auror department."

"Does Madam Bones know about all of this?" asked Tonks with a raised eyebrow.

"Not the specifics. I gave her no information about Horcruxes, only that I needed your services for a mission which would assist our efforts against Voldemort. She was not precisely happy about being kept in the dark, but she did accept my explanation."

"Then the only questions are when do we leave and where do we search," said Remus.

"The where, I can only guess. If you cannot find anything in the population centers on the Mediterranean, then I suspect you will need to travel inland along the Nile. Unfortunately, I have no further information for you—who knows what researcher stumbled onto the Horcrux spell, or where he lived at the time. It will likely take patience, not to mention some time to figure out where to look. Even then, you may only come across fragments which we will need to piece together. This is, however, our best chance, I believe."

"Then let's get started," said Remus. "I will need to put my affairs in order, which I assume you will need to do too." Remus turned to look at Tonks who nodded in response. "I would think we could leave by about the end of the week."

The conversation then moved to general discussion regarding Remus and Tonks's upcoming mission, and very soon they were excused, the two to begin their preparations, while Harry, Hermione and Fleur made their way back toward the Gryffindor common room. For Harry, it was a weight lifted off his shoulders. They had a plan, and the future was possibly looking brighter than it had in some time.

Update 08/14/2013