Disclaimer: Rowling and Zelazny, something and something, but not something mine.
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The Trump of Merlin
Sometimes
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Your mind is focused on one thing and one thing only. Your godfather is somewhere down the corridor. He is being tortured, or worse, might be already dead. You are running, out of breath, towards him – you have to reach him in time, you will save him.
When you enter the round room, the doors spin around like crazy. You don't remember it happening in any of the dreams. They settle down, but you have no idea which one is the right one anymore. Time is of essence, but others are confused, they want some explanations, they want to know what is going on. You argue that it doesn't matter, that you remember the room where your godfather was from the vision – after opening any door it will be clear if it is the right room.
You have to make a choice. Looking around, you notice one of the doors starting to glitter. It might be just your imagination, or, it might be your only chance. You step forward, putting your hand on it and try to push it open. It doesn't bulge, but you know – it's important to get to the other side. You need to get this door open. Now.
Hermione tries an unlocking spell. It fails.
You take out Sirius' knife and slide it in the crack between the door and the wall. It melts.
"This is the door," you whisper, pain surfacing in your voice. There is Sirius, and, there is something, that screams out to you. You cannot phantom not getting through.
They understand, but no one has any more ideas, except, to try and go around. It's a bad idea – the door is here, why would you look for any other way?
You start hitting it, with all your force. The first strike sounds hollow. The next one echoes throughout the room. The third one bruises your knuckles bloody. A fourth one splatters the door with a drop with your blood.
There is a loud hissing sound and the door lights up with blue flames. You recoil back as it startles you, but there is no heat from it. No need to be scared.
Finally, it opens. You rush inside, wand in your hand, and ready for a fight. There are no opponents there. It's just a small room, mostly empty. At the end of it there is another doorway, but you are not drawn to it. Something in this room is whispering to you, reaching out towards your mind. There are seven paintings hanging on the dark stone walls – three are complete, beautifully drawn. Your gaze passes them by, without staying, looking for something else.
The Hogwarts castle.
A rocky island.
Muggle London.
Four are sketched and scratched, unfinished. You cannot even tell what they are supposed to represent.
Others are looking around in surprise. Only Hermione tries to remind you of Sirius. Were you rushing somewhere? Why is it important? Isn't this the reason you went here?
Any thoughts you have are focused on the sword on the wall. Glittering with dark silver, as dark as it could get, and vibrating with unknown power. There is a strange pattern etched on the naked blade; its edges look even sharper than the blade you have held in your second year. It does have an eerie similarity to the Gryffindor's sword, but looks... Real. True. Like it's the only thing holding the room together. Maybe, the whole Department of Mysteries is held in place by the power of the sword. It's that overwhelming.
Hermione says something, to what Luna responds. Disregarding them, you are moving forward, towards it. It's held on a wall by some kind of spell, but when your hand clasps the handle, the sword loosens up. It fights right into your hand, as if it was made for you. It might even have been.
Only then do you look up at your companions, who all are wearing questioning looks. Luna is the only one who isn't interested in you and your sword. She is holding a handful of cards, apparently from a single shelf across the room. They seem familiar. You blink, and dart towards her. The backs of the cards are blank, but otherwise they are the same. You tear them out of her hands and start shuffling through them. It's hard to do so with both the wand and the sword in hand, so you put your wand behind your ear. Luna smiles faintly for some reason. You ignore her.
Most of the cards are only half drawn, sketched, scratched and some even torn apart. Two are complete and cold to touch, like your grandfather's one is. You shove the uncompleted ones back to Luna. You don't need them.
Your eyes tear into the men on the cards. One is Nicolas Flamel, holding a sword and a glass of wine. The other one looks like a muggle – wearing a white shirt with some kind of a university badge on the chest, red-haired, handsome in spite, or perhaps because, of an artistically broken nose. Have you ever seen him somewhere?
Suddenly, you see the latter move. It's a slight movement, and very unlike those of the wizarding pictures. You stash the Flamel card in your pocket, careful not to drop the sword and the other card you now are hold in your right hand at the same time.
As you are trying not to break eye contact, your friends questions are drowned in a strange feeling – all sounds are suddenly muffled, and you can see another room in front of you. Your vision feels blurry and your heard starts to hurt. The sword is suddenly cool, and soothes the pain. There – the man from the card is talking to someone you cannot see, in a language that sounds funny. His clothes are slightly medieval, and he's got a rapier on his side. The glimpse of the foreign room reveals a beautiful carpet and a few guards with strange uniforms.
He turns to face you, his green eyes meeting yours.
He shouts something at you.
"Who are you?" you ask him, unsure if he will understand.
He does as he answers in English, with a small hint of the American accent. "Where did you get that sword, boy?"
You blink, not understanding why that was important. But you know that the sword is yours. "It's mine."
It looks like he isn't happy with your answer.
Someone tries to get your attention in the Ministry. Probably Hermione, getting really impatient.
"No, don't break the contact!" the stranger shouts.
Seeing that you don't understand, he tries to reach you. His hand clasps yours, but you recoil back at his touch.
You roll on the floor, slipping away from his grasp and still holding onto the sword. It's a miracle that you don't cut yourself.
Your friends all have their wands pointed at the man, who is standing in front of you all, and looking around, confused, rapier already in hand.
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"Was it cramped in there?" Luna's dreamy voice tears down the silence. "In the card?"
It seems that the stranger is not up for laughs. His voice is heavy and determined. "Give the sword to me, boy, and no one will die."
Who is he, to threaten the six of you at the same time? Does he have anything up his sleeve?
"No." The sword is yours and yours alone.
He jumps forward, as fast as a speeding Bludger – definitely not a human. Hermione and Ron both throw a spell each, as soon as he starts moving. He ducks and weaves, and slashes with the rapier at the side. There is a scream, as a sliced wand and two fingers drop on the ground. Ron is clutching his hand, but you can't pay any attention to him – you have but a second between life and death.
Why did you put you wand away? The thought echoes in your mind, as you slash forward with your sword, trying to catch him of guard.
There is a spark when the blades meet, and you try to overpower him with your strength – it would be enough to discourage any grown man from even trying. Surprisingly, he stands his ground, and suddenly, there is lots of pain in your side. You didn't even notice when, but his blade slid down and pierced your side.
Desperate, you garb his blade with your left hand. It's just pain, but if you'll manage to hold the grip, he will be disarmed. He twists you around so that your sword gets in the way of a red beam – someone, probably Neville, sent a well aimed Stunning spell in his direction. If the man wasn't currently trying to kill you, you probably would have marvelled at the execution.
You try to swing at him, but he's too close and holds you too firmly for you to retaliate. Your left hand is now a bloody mess, but you don't release the grip on his rapier. But he does, and draws out a dagger from the belt, instead. He stabs at your right arm, and you cry out in pain.
Then, he heaves you in front of a spell – luckily for you it's just the golden light of two Disarming charms. That's powerful enough to knock down both of you. Somehow, you still manage to hold your grip on the sword. It's as if its energies are helping you in this fight. Rapier still protruding out of your side, you get up, as fast as you can.
The stranger is already on his feet, dodging the array of stunners directed at him.
You stagger, leaning towards the London painting. Your head is spinning, you are starting to see double. The man is getting closer with each step. There are people moving in the street. Ginny falls down, hit by the thrown dagger. The stranger is so near, you can almost feel him breathing into your neck. Then, you fall over, as the wall disappears.
The pavement greets you with a loud thud. It was probably your head trying to leave a mark. Pavement? You slowly get up, helping yourself with the silver sword. Everything hurts. You need to get out of here. The need for hurry doesn't make any movement easier, nor faster. Your right hand feels weird.
Some muggle woman gasps and starts pointing at you. You must really be a sight – a bloody mess, staggering forward, spraying blood everywhere. You know this place. Doesn't Sirius...?
How could you forget him? You won't be able to save him now... He's in the Ministry, and you are near his place...
You glance back, how far have you gotten? Not very far. Grimmauld place 8. The stranger appears in the street behind you. His face bears the mark of a stray Severing charm. His clothes marked by blood, probably yours. He starts running towards you. The four house advantage you have on him is fading into nothing.
Fidelius. It's the only chance – he won't be able to follow you into the headquarters of the Order. You pour every last bit of strength you have in yourself and run like your life depends on it. It probably does.
Blood trail behind, you almost reach the stairs. Another dagger flies past you, scratching your ear. The man is two steps behind. You manage to step on the stairs, almost collapsing in the progress. Each breath you take burns your lungs, and you are losing blood fast.
He stops and looks around, furious. You try to open the door. It's locked. You knock. Weakly, but you can't find the strength anymore.
Muggles are shouting at the red-haired man, someone is calling the police. He, however, is carefully examining the spot you disappeared from, ignoring anyone else. Your vision is fading fast – you'll probably pass out on the steps up the house.
The door opens, and you fall into the strong hands of Sirius. Sirius?
"Si..." You pass out clutching the silver blade.
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Everything is blurry. The lights are swirling around, the sounds are barely audible. Blinking, your hand tries to find the glasses. You give out a sigh of relief when you put them on. It seems that you are inside Grimmauld Place, number 12. It's the bed you have already slept in before. The house is mostly silent, only the hushed talk below shows that there is someone here.
You dress, slowly, as you're still feeling sore. The sword is put on the nearby desk. You take it into your hand, and make your way downstairs. You're probably going to need a sheath of some kind. Maybe Sirius might help.
As you enter the kitchen, the first thing you notice is the distinct lack of Weasleys in the kitchen. There's only Tonks and Sirius at the table, having a hushed conversation. You catch Remus' name, but nothing more. Their voices are tired, hollow. Tonks notices you first. Her hair is a brownish mess, her eyes look tired, and she only nods in greeting.
Afraid to ask, you still do it. "What happened?"
Sirius is holding a cup with his left hand, his right arm in a cast. His gaze travels to your face and he pours every bit of his worries at you. "Kingsley is dead. Remus lost an eye, he's upstairs, sleeping. Hermione is under some kind of curse – the healers are working on her. Neville still hasn't woken up... he will probably make it though. Luna and Ron are mostly fine. Ginny is dying."
"What?" you feel anger and grief rising.
"The daggers were dripped in some kind of poison. He refuses to tell what it was."
"You caught him?"
"Well, not after a fight." Sirius raises the cast up. "Bastard shattered my wand arm together with the wand. He is truly something. Well, he wasn't expecting Mad-Eye, to be completely fair. Snape is interrogating him..."
"How did you escape Voldemort?" You're slightly confused. Snape? You push your anger away – this is more important. "How did you escape from the Department?"
"To be fair, I never went there. I stayed to look after our guest." He lowers his head. "It was a trap, Voldemort wanted you to take the prophesy."
"But... He tortured you..."
"He sent you a fake vision. Dumbledore wanted you to learn Occlumency to be safe from these."
You feel overwhelmed by this. Everyone got hurt by your foolishness.
"Well, at least people believe you now..."
You look at him questioningly, unsure what he has in mind.
"Dumbledore duelled him in the Atrium. Fudge cannot claim Voldemort being dead, when he was seen fighting in the middle of the ministry."
You finally sit down, in silence. Tonks pours you some tea, spraying a few drops on the table. No one cares.
"I was meaning to ask," says Sirius, "what's with the sword? You didn't want to release it, even while unconscious, so I asked for it to be put where you could find it."
"It's mine." It's all the explanation you have. "I don't know how, but I feel that it belongs to me."
Sirius shrugs. "If you say so."
There are steps behind us and Remus enters the kitchen. Even more ragged than usually, his face a scarred mess, a bandage still covering his left eye. He looks as if he might fall any second.
"Harry, you're already awake," he croaks. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." And you really do. Of course – everything is sore, but the wounds have already healed.
Tonks jumps to help Remus sit, and stumbles along the way. He catches her hand and straightens her up. She pours tea for him as well. There is a hint of blush hiding in Remus face, but you don't comment. Your thoughts are circling around the stranger.
"I want to see him."
Sirius sighs. "Maybe later."
"But..." You need to ask him about the cards, about the paintings, about everything, really. "I have some questions..."
"Don't you think that finding out about the poison is more important?"
You nod, slightly embarrassed that you almost forgot about Ginny. "But we can't leave him alone to Snape! I want to get the answers from him. He might tell me about the poison."
Sirius stares at you for a while and then gives out a sigh. "Believe me, I wish nothing more than to let the greasy git leave the job to us, but he is a master of legilimency and has the skills to brew an antidote... Still, I don't know why Albus puts up with him. We will go check up on him in a while."
You nod, disappointed and change the subject. "So what really happened? I mean I have some ideas, but there's something lacking to the picture."
Remus answers this one. His voice is tired, but he is speaking slowly and as clearly as possible. "When you stumbled inside, bleeding, we were already getting ready to leave to the ministry. Kingsley and Tonks had already left, but Mad-Eye was with us. Sirius quickly gave you to me, and jumped outside, trying to hex your pursuer. It took most of us to subdue him. Then, we just chained him in one of the basements, and rushed to the ministry. Sirius left behind as he was injured and had no more wand..."
"And someone had to keep our guest safe." Sirius piped in anger ringing in his voice. "I was angry enough to be an ideal choice."
"As I was saying, we went to the Department of Mysteries. We found everyone in the painting room. They thought you were dead. As we were trying to leave, death eaters attacked. To shorten the story, I got careless with Bellatrix, and there you have it." Remus gestured to his bandages. "We were mainly winning, until Voldemort showed up. He blasted Kingsley, and we barely held until Dumbledore arrived to help. Neville, Hermione and Luna were invaluable – they fought really well. Their teacher's ability shows."
You blush at the compliment. Still, it feels slightly stale.
There are tears gathering in Tonks eyes. "Kingsley was a good friend," she mutters silently, you almost don't catch the words at all, "the department is going to be empty without him..."
"In the end, Dumbledore chased Voldemort away, and I don't really remember much afterwards," finishes Remus.
"What happened to all the paintings?"
Tonks speaks loudly for the first time since you started the conversation. "Well, they are ministry's property, so whatever they were they." She wipes tears with her sleeve.
"But they were... really strange."
"That's the Department of Mysteries, everything they have is strange or maddening. Or both."
You switch the subject again. "Where is everyone? St. Mungos?"
"Most of them, yes. Do you want to visit them?"
You hesitate – you don't really want to face all your guilt now. "Maybe later."
Surprisingly, they understand. You drink your tea in silence for a while.
You take out your grandfather's card, ant take another look. You have done it thousands of times even after you got a picture album of your parents. It's the same, but as you try to reach him as you did with your crazy attacker, it doesn't work. You check your pockets of the other two card, but find only the Nicolas' one, probably left the other one at the ministry.
Sirius is looking at you with a curious expression. "There are other ones?"
You nod. "I found them at the ministry. Actually... your guest, I don't really know, but he came out of the card somehow."
"Curious. Does it work with Lily's father?"
"No."
"Who is in the other one?"
"Nicolas Flamel."
Sirius chokes on his tea. "How do you know?"
"I saw him in my first year."
"Have you tried reaching him?" Remus looks interested too.
"Well, no... But isn't he dead? Dumbledore said that he was going to die, as there is no more stone to keep him or his wife alive...? Do you think I should? The last time I almost ended up dead..."
"Well..." Sirius ponders for a moment. "Nicolas was friends with Albus. I don't really think it would be dangerous to try. Still, let's finish tea first."
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You take the card in your hand, place the sword on the desk, within, you reach, take out the wand, and concentrate on the card. This time, it seems to be working.
"It's working." You shout, making them take out their wands...
This time it's harder, but the sword nearby is helping you a little.
Another room floats into view, a complex alchemical apparatus is before you and there is Flamell, leaning towards it. He notices you and blinks a few times. "Who are you?" His eyes suddenly sparkle with strange hope for the briefest of moments...
"Nicolas Flamel?" you ask, breathing heavily – it takes real concentration to hold the contact now. You hope that the man will give you at least some answers...
His eyes narrow. "Harry Potter. Interesting." He stands straight, hands crossed, eyes tracing your outline. "I remember you... Was it a year ago?"
"Four, Sir."
He laughs. "How did you find the trump?"
"I'm sorry, sir, what are you talking about? I have found a card..."
"A trump," he corrects. "It doesn't matter. I can't see the place you are at – a curious piece of magic. Could I step through and have a look?"
He extends his hand for you to take.
You hesitate. He seems sincere enough, but should you trust him? "Sir, I'm trying to reach you, because I need some answers..." You don't take his hand.
He smiles. "You don't trust me? Did something happen? Is Albus there?"
"No, Albus is busy."
He lowers his hand and shrugs. "Alright, let's step back a little. Does Albus know where to find you?"
You nod.
"I'll reach you through him, then."
"But there is –"
The contact breaks and you can't help but look how the vision of Nicolas shatters before your eyes. Sweat is running on your back and your hand is slightly shaking.
"– a poison..." you finish awkwardly stumbling slightly.
Sirius offers a helping hand. "So, it worked?" he asks you. "Are you alright? You did just talk to the Nicolas Flamel?"
"Yes." You allow, tired, and slump back to your seat. "He said that he will be reaching us through Albus."
"Can I try?" Sirius looks like a boy, wanting to try out a candy. Or, a child trying to forget his worries.
You give him the card and he stares at it for a few moments. Seconds quickly turn into minutes, but Sirius isn't giving up. "How were you doing it?"
"I don't know, I just imagined him being real, and he started moving."
He struggles for a few minutes more. "I think I'm doing it wrong. I'll have to ask Flamel, he seems to know. And I always wanted to talk with someone who is older than Albus. I figure with Albus going bonkers in a hundred years, Nicolas should really be interesting."
You put the cards back into your pocket.
"Well," Sirius winks, "we should probably do something while we wait for Snivellus to finish his questioning. Want to try and see if there is a scabbard fitting your blade hidden in the mess of the attic? The Black family owned a few swords back in their glory days. Might even find a goblin made one..."
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I think there was a line directly from Zelazny. Maybe. Of course, I left it unmarked.