~ Chapter 3

The light from five large chandeliers glittered on the intricately laid wood floor, the gold gilding on the walls, and shining crystal and silver on the long dining table.

Guests were dressed in heavy and expensive fabrics; most of them had heavy signet rings on their fingers. The men wore conservatively coloured robes with high necks and discrete embroidery that displayed the livery and insignias of their houses. The women dressed in similarly courtly rwaobes but often in more lively colours that showed some décolletage.

There was a balcony in the room where a chamber orchestra was playing some light music as the guests milled about with aperitifs in hand.

The center of attention stood at the grand entryway into the dining room and welcomed new guests as they arrived, who were heralded by a crier.

"The Lord and Lady Malfoy and their son Draco Malfoy."

The Malfoys made their way into the dining room to greet Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort, the youngest ever Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

As they bowed deeply, Lord Voldemort spoke. "Lucius and Narcissa, welcome to my home. I see you have brought young Draco."

"My Lord Riddle, we're honoured to be invited. We bring our best wishes for you on your thirty-fifth birthday," said Draco, only barely stuttering.

"What a precocious boy," said Riddle with a curl of his lips.

The Malfoys smiled.

"Come Draco, let's put Lord Riddle's present with the others and introduce you to the other children." Narcissa led Draco away.

"Glad you could attend Lucius."

"Was there any doubt, my lord? I see that Fudge has yet to arrive, though that is perhaps not a surprise; with his recent unpopularity, he's been hiding behind Dumbledore's skirts and there is no question that the old man would turn him against you. Have you heard that Dumbledore will be approaching Nicolas Flamel in the near future? Are you going to take any action?"

"My dear Lucius," Riddle said, drawing him to the table as the chime sounded for dinner, "I make it a point never to interrupt my enemies when they are making a mistake."

xxxxxx

"The world is becoming a darker place, old friend."

"After living as long as I have, I'd like to believe that the light will prevail in the end, you'll see," said Flamel, taking a sip of his tea.

"I share your hopes Nicolas but I cannot help but be disturbed by some of the powerful forces that are trying to bring down our world."

"You mean Lord Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. When I resigned my position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to focus more on the International Wizarding Federation and on Hogwarts, I had no idea that he would grasp control so quickly and so decisively – and at such a young age, only thirty years old! Wizarding politics in Britain have been known for fractured political groups for the past five hundred years. It is not often that we have ever stood united, except in the darkest hours of war or strife. I had no idea that Riddle would be able to unify most of the Wizengamot, all powerful wizards and witches with strong convictions, within three years and all under his banner. No, I did not foresee that he would be able to do what even I could not. Hubris and old age, perhaps. And now, regret."

"Do not be so hard on yourself Albus. He has yet to make an overt move against us or the principles that we stand for."

"Not publicly, not yet. But one only has to look at his political platform – all pureblood and segregationist nonsense – to know what is in store for the future. Already I hear whisperings. But what is more disturbing is his magic. Oh, you do not know the horrors Nicolas!"

Flamel gripped his teacup. "What is it? He is a known dark wizard but he wouldn't – I mean, I have heard no word –"

"But he has. He has dabbled in the darkest arts my friend, all for the purpose of discovering immortality. I fear that he may try to target you and Perenelle next. My friend, I cannot express my sorrow at the counsel I am about to give you but I beg you to heed my advice…"

xxxxxx

After speaking with Sanguini, Harry had so many unanswered questions! Just who were his parents? Apparently, they weren't Muggles like the Dursleys had claimed. Who were his grandparents? Why did his grandfather kill himself? What was a pureblood vampire? Harry had tried looking through a few books but none of them mentioned the word.

Although Sanuini had promised to meet him in the summer, Harry still wished that he had kept the vampire longer so that he could ask him more about his parents and his heritage.

It wasn't all a loss though. His frustration was balanced in equal measure by his excitement. Although there was no outward change, he was still the messy haired boy who slouched too much and did poorly in class, he was bubbling inside. Harry had always felt adrift and disconnected but news about his parents and the implication that he was a member of a larger community – even if they're all vampires, he thought – anchored him.

To fend off his flurry of fruitless thoughts and speculations, he threw himself into his studying.

Harry's studying had slowed down significantly once he'd reached the fourth year material. The spells were more difficult and there was a lot more theory to study. He found that in order to really study the material, he had to practise it and the library wasn't the best place for shooting stray spells.

But he'd get many suspicious looks if he tried to sign out upper year books and he'd trip the alarms if he tried to take them out after hours. It would also decrease his chance of getting into trouble if he spent less time in the library while it was closed. Besides, he wanted to bring as many books as possible with him in the summer so that he would be bored out of his mind.

The problem niggled at him for an afternoon before he thought of a solution. Why couldn't he just copy the books he wanted from the library and take it wherever he needed to?

He found the spell he needed in the library that night. He had already learned a shrinking charm and a feather weight charm from his readings.

After a few false starts and a few wasted pages, he got the spell to work and began copying The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. Very quickly, the spell finished. Delighted at how little time the process took, Harry began to pull books rather enthusiastically from the shelves. It was fortunate that he had really stocked up on his supply of parchment before arriving at the school and that the library sold parchment, ink, and quills to students; when he ran out, he could always buy more.

xxxxxx

Harry snuck back into his bed before dawn and continued his reading until he heard the other boys stirring. Already dressed, Harry left for the Great Hall before any of the others and enjoyed the Christmas decorations as he walked downstairs.

He helped himself to toast and bacon as the other students trickled in; it was a Saturday so there were few students who would bother to trek down for breakfast. As he munched on his toast, the morning post came and delivered personal mail and the Daily Prophet to those who had a subscription.

Harry was calmly drinking his pumpkin juice when he heard and upper year Ravenclaw exclaim loudly to her friends.

"Look at this! I can't believe it, 'famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel died yesterday in his Devonshire home with his wife Perenelle Flamel after settling their affairs'. I wanted to apprentice myself to him once I graduated. What am I going to do now?" she wailed.

Harry ate very slowly and waited patiently until the grumbling Ravenclaw and her friends left the Great Hall. They conveniently left the paper sitting on the table and he didn't hesitate in snatching it up.

Harry had never read the Daily Prophet or any other wizarding magazine or paper and didn't know very much about the wizarding world. In fact, he thought to himself with a bit of surprise, the closest thing he'd read about the wizarding world was Hogwarts: A History. It had never occurred to him to study anything but spells and magic. He frowned to himself. That was very silly of him. If he wanted to continue to live in the magical world once he graduated – oh how he wanted to – then he'd better brush up on his knowledge of it now. He wouldn't be able to filch a copy of the Prophet everyday but he knew that the library had a subscription and also had a collection of back issues. He was also certain that there were entire sections of the library devoted to magical history, government, and geography; unfortunately, he had never stepped foot there except to get school books on goblin wars, but that was going to change.

The front page of the Prophet was split into two. The bottom half reported the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone and the death of Nicolas Flamel, the alchemist who had created Stone. I wonder what that is? Harry decided to look it up later. It also said that Flamel had worked with Albus Dumbledore; Harry flicked his eyes up to the Head Table but the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen. The top half of the page had a picture of a very handsome man who had a half smile as the well dressed witches and wizards around him sent him adoring looks. "Lord Voldemort celebrates birthday!" the headline proclaimed.

He read the article quickly. Apparently, Lord Voldemort was the youngest Chief Warlock of something called the Wizengamot, which sounded very important. Unfortunately, the article spent a great deal of time speculating on his wealth and his status as a bachelor and didn't report too much else.

Harry couldn't believe how much he didn't know. As he skimmed the rest of the paper, he constantly hit names and terms that he was unfamiliar with and seemingly common facts that he didn't know. I have a lot of catching up to do, he thought to himself, a little appalled, as he left the Great Hall and headed for the library.

As he approached the stairs, he saw Draco Malfoy and his goons push a small boy down. Slowing his steps, he hid behind a pillar in an effort to keep attention away from himself and to watch what was happening.

"Good god Crevey, how old are you? Why are you carrying around a copy of Fantastic Fables? Do you have The Tales of Beedle the Bard too?"

Harry frowned as Draco taunted Creevey about having a copy of what appeared to be children's stories.

"Hey you lot! What are you doing?"

Harry quickly cast a Disillusionment charm on himself as Percy Weasley, a Prefect, came running down the stairs. Draco and his gang ran away before Percy could get a good look at them.

Harry waited until he saw that Percy was helping Creevey to his feet before he continued onwards toward the library. He hadn't known that wizards had fables but he looked forward to reading them.

xxxxxx

"The library is closing in 15 minutes. Please prepare to leave." Madam Pince's voice cut through his concentration.

Harry sat back in his chair and let out a whoosh. He looked around and by the quiet growl of his stomach, he had clearly missed dinner. He blinked owlishly at the stacks of books surrounding him.

He had no idea that he was missing such fundamental knowledge about the wizarding world! Granted, he'd had very limited exposure: he lived with the most anti-magical family in Little Whinging during the summer and had only ever been to Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and Platform Nine and Three Quarters. In addition of the Ministry and Hogsmeade, he had thought that he had a good estimate of the size of wizarding Britain.

How wrong he had been! His estimation that the total population hovered somewhere around ten or twenty thousand was so far off target, he might as well have pulled it out of a hat. Not only were there many, many more purely magical areas in Britain than he'd thought*, the actual British magical population was much closer to 5 million! In fact, approximately five to ten percent of the world's population were witches or wizards or other magical folk**.

He had always appreciated his opportunity to attend Hogwarts but it was only now that he knew just how special the opportunity was. There were very few wizarding schools like Hogwarts in Europe because most wizards were unable to cast the spells taught after 3rd year. He did a quick calculation. Hogwarts had perhaps three hundred students altogether, the top three hundred children of power in all magical Britain. Suddenly Neville Longbottom no longer seemed as incompetent.

People like McGonagall, a Transfiguration master, Flitwick, a duelling champion, and Snape, a world renowned Potions master, stood at the pinnacle of magical talent. For the first time, Harry understood why Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Lord Voldemort – if rumours of his magical ability were to be believed – were held in such awe; the level of magical power they possessed was literally one in a million, or even more. Harry understood now why British purebloods, whose members were almost all educated in wizarding schools like Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, were held in such regard: not only were they rich, they all tended to be magically powerful.

And the Wizengamot! Harry couldn't help the blush that sprung to his cheeks at the thought that he didn't even known about the British wizarding equivalent of Parliament and the House of Lords. Before tonight, he'd had no idea how the Ministry was structured or how law was carried out; he didn't even know what an Auror was.

Unlike the muggle counterpart, the Wizengamot had fifty seats with representatives from the oldest and most powerful pureblood houses including the Snapes, the Blacks, the Malfoys – no wonder Draco Malfoy acts like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Harry snorted. It made Tom Marvolo Riddle, a wizard who advocated a 'return to the old ways', all the more impressive. Not only was he one of the youngest members of the Wizengamot, he was the youngest ever to have been elected as Chief Warlock and, according to recent laws and decisions that were passed, Harry surmised that he controlled the rest of the members with an iron fist. In all the votes since his election, all the bills that passed were bills that he advocated and they always passed by a landslide; compared to previous Wizengamot decisions that passed by a margin of one or two votes, Harry felt that Lord Voldemort's power was clear.

Harry put the books away and signed out The Tales of Beedle the Bard and Fantastic Fables as Madam Pince gave the last call. He'd read them during his breaks from practising the Summoning spell in an unused classroom tonight.

xxxxxx

Harry watched in satisfaction as the book sailed across the room and smacked into his outstretched hand. He'd had to give it a few tries, but it seemed like he was back on track with his studies. As soon as he'd been able to actually practise the spells, the pace at which he went through the fourth year books had picked up. He checked off Accio from the list of things that he'd wanted to accomplish by the end of the week and decided to take a brief break by reading the books that he'd signed out earlier.

By Malfoy's earlier taunts, Harry was expecting the books to be full of fluff but they were actually quite interesting and in some cases, even a little disturbing.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard had several stories that were rather dark and gruesome – Harry shuddered at the story of the Hairy Heart. The Fantastic Fables seemed to be a collection of stories from folklore. Harry particularly enjoyed the entertaining tales about Tir Na Nog, Mag Mell, and Ablach. But it was the story that described the magical world's understanding of magic that most enchanted him.

According to the story, magic was like a balanced life stream. When a wizard or witch was born, a part of the life stream existed within them. When they died, their 'essence' rejoined the life stream and the ambient magic in the world. A sort of consciousness was retained within the life stream; that was the reason why wizards have the ability to call up spirits or 'shades' and commune with the dead.

However, over time, the life stream is polluted by too many wizards and witches who have irrevocably altered their existence. For example: wizards who cast Aveda Kedavra exchange a guaranteed death for the unmarred state of their soul; after they successfully kill their target, they 'wrinkle' their soul and the caster cannot be wholly absorbed by the life stream upon their death. As well, there are wizards who do not return to the life stream at all. Some wizards do not truly die and stay in the world as ghosts, this causes am imbalance between life and death.

This pollution in magic decreases its effectiveness. "What miracles we could perform have been lost with time. No wizards alive today can sink an island or fell a mountain," said the old man in the story. The fable stated that a child would be born to wizard kind who would be the embodiment of magic and act as a balance between life and death. His existence would purge the impurities in magic that have accumulated over the years and his awakening would herald a return to the old ways. Maybe it's Lord Voldemort, he thought with a chuckle. Harry had never thought much on the nature of magic before but the story caught his imagination.

* Although there are several magical communities that live side-by-side with muggles (like the town of Ottery St. Catchpole) there are also many purely magical areas. Famous shopping district Diagon Alley is one example. Others include unplottable magical territories like Rose Hill, Lyonesse, the Stony Isles, and Cockaigne.

** The exact population depends on the region of the world. Mainland Europe was notorious for large magical communities whilst countries like Canada were also known for very small ones.

Author's Note: Haha, I can't seem to stop writing chapters! As I mentioned, I've already plotted out the story so it's just a matter of writing it all out; every time I write a point that I plotted, I would check it off my list. Ah, I'm just a compulsive list-checker. *Shakes head* Well, I'm back to work Monday (this has been a wonderfully free weekend) so I wanted to get as much written with the time that I had.