Chapter 26
As Long as it Takes
Harry and Professor Dumbledore discovered that The Blood Pub was located in an especially seedy part of London, some distance from Kings Cross, the only part of London Harry knew well. He had a bad feeling as Dumbledore and he apparated to the train station, intending to take a cab the rest of the way. Obviously The Blood Pub had to be a hang-out for vampires, and although vampires had never done harm to Harry in his life, he nevertheless did not long for their company. Thompson's directions proved to be accurate, as the cabbie brought his taxi to a halt in front of the most run-down hotel Harry had ever seen, most inaccurately named the Paradise Inn. Perhaps it had last been painted during Dumbledore's years as a student at Hogwarts.
Looking at Harry with a concerned brow, the cabbie warned, "This isn' exactly the place for a youngster, if you catch my drift. Lot o' unsavory types 'round 'ere. I'd be 'appy to take you a bit further, if you like. Not quite so rough jus' a few blocks a'ead." Across the street two shabby characters could barely been seen under the dim streetlight, wobbling down the street holding paper bags in their hands.
Dumbledore merely took out a roll of bills and peeled off a few to pay the driver, responding, "Thank you, but this is in fact our destination." The cabbie shrugged, took his fare, and shifted the car into drive. In a moment Harry and Dumbledore stood in front of the dilapidated Paradise Inn, but instead of entering the rat-infested structure, they walked to the side of the building, finding a dark narrow alley. That in fact would be all that could be seen by muggles, but Harry could see the hotel and the old brick building next door shift apart several yards to allow the appearance of a small boxy structure. Above the plain white door ran the words, written in red of course, "The Blood Pub," but otherwise the building seemed as plain as could be. Harry thought it hardly needed to be hidden from muggles, as they likely would not notice it in the first place.
Harry moved ahead of the old man, who walked laboriously with the support of his cane, and held the door open. Dumbledore casually walked though, as if he frequented vampire bars routinely. Harry on the other hand felt out of place in the extreme. The unexpected size of the interior of the outwardly small building did not surprise him, as he had become accustomed to such marvels of the magical world. Yet in spite of his knowledge that the clientele of the drinking establishment would be of that nature, Harry could not avoid a feeling of danger in the presence of so many vampires. Perhaps forty of them had spread about the large, pushily adorned room, which reminded Harry of an old English social club for the elite of muggle society. Large leather chairs and sofas covered the plush black and red carpet, on top of which low round tables stood sprinkled about. Not one but two large fireplaces blazed in the vast area.
The individuals seated around the tables most certainly were vampires, of that there could be no doubt. When they wanted to, vampires could more or less pass for wizards, but in this pub, they let down their hair, so to speak. In reality, all of the men had short, carefully groomed hair, and the women appeared to have spent hours preparing and adorning their locks. All of them dressed to the hilt, the women in black, red or white gowns fit for the grandest balls, the men in suits or tuxedos. Some of the more flamboyant wore black capes with blood red linings. Despite the numbers in the room, which Harry would hardly have termed a "pub," an eerie quiet met his ears. Vampires speak quietly, and Harry could only hear a muted hum.
The two wizards zigzagged their way between tables to the bar. Harry felt like every eye watched him even though most of the patrons paid him no attention. Dumbledore, as usual, appeared pleased as punched to be in this establishment, displaying no signs of discomfort. Returning to his American accent, he briefly spoke with the barkeeper, Harry not able to overhear them. Though of age in the magical world, at age seventeen he felt that he must be violating some law by being there, but he tried to display as much poise as possible. The bartender nodded his head several times and then walked to the end of the bar to whisper something to a waiter.
"Would you like something to drink, Daniel," Dumbledore asked, as Harry helped the old man onto a tall stool next to the bar. The bartender prepared a drink for Dumbledore, a mixture of several colored liquids into a tall glass. Upon pouring in the final ingredient, the glass emitted a greenish steam, and the bartender hurriedly placed the drink before his customer. Dumbledore waited a moment to allow the steam to subside slightly and then gingerly took a sip. He looked back at Harry, waiting for an answer to his question.
"Well, something not that strong, I think. Mead, perhaps." Harry did not especially like mead, but at least he would be able to walk at the end of the evening. He did not feel so sure about his companion.
The out-of-place wizards sat on their stools for a good fifteen minutes. Dumbledore appeared to be in an especially good mood, happy to be back in action, and he loudly entertained Harry with an explanation of American baseball and the Boston Red Sox. A true connoisseur of the sport would have taken issue with a few of his pronouncements (the "Green Monster" is not in right field), but Harry did not know any better.
At last an employee of the Blood Pub tapped "Mr. Woods" on his shoulder, and led the old and young men to an immaculately clean office. Harry marveled that not a paperclip lay out of place on the polished desk made of some exotic wood at which sat the proprietor of the drinking establishment. Cassius Mortenson rose from his chair as the two entered, bowing courteously but not offering his hand. Harry immediately recognized the vampire, even though he had only seen him once, in a memory several decades ago. He had only aged slightly and had the appearance of a man in his late thirties or early forties, though Harry figured his age to be eighty years or more. The employee closed the door on his way out.
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Woods. They inform me that Albus Dumbledore sent you to see me," Cassius crooned, "A most interesting fact, if true, for Dumbledore and I could not be termed friends or even acquaintances. I only met the man on a few occasions during my years at Hogwarts."
"In that you are speaking the truth, Cassius," replied Dumbledore in his normal voice, without the Bostonian accent, "For I am here. I am Albus Dumbledore."
Cassius recognized the voice but not the face, as Dumbledore lacked the long white hair and beard.
"As you well know," responded the vampire, succeeding in hiding any surprise he may have felt, "Headmaster Dumbledore died tragically this June past. The news reached all corners of the magical world, I can assure you, even to such outposts as The Blood Pub."
"Yes, I am well aware of that, but as you can see, here I sit. I did not die, but I have not allowed anyone other than my friend here to know the truth. You are now the second to know. Your doubts as to my identity are well-founded, however, so I shall provide you with a proof of my identity. In your sixth year at Hogwarts, you wrote an especially horrible essay in my Transfiguration class on the benefits and dangers of animal-to-inanimate object transfigurations. We had a somewhat testy meeting in my office, as the essay was well below the quality of your other work. That was a long time ago, Cassius. Do you recall?"
The vampire thinly smiled and nodded. Harry had not known that Cassius had been Dumbledore's student, presumably before becoming a vampire.
"I commend you for conserving your secret from the press," Cassius commented, then turning his eyes to Harry, "Why have you brought this boy with you?" Dumbledore smiled, but Harry did not know what he planned to say.
"This boy is none other than Harry Potter, though in disguise to avoid recognition. Mr. Potter is among the most powerful wizards in the world today, though he does not realize it fully. He is the wizard who will defeat Lord Voldemort, who as you know is your old friend, Tom Riddle. We need information from you, Cassius."
"I have had nothing to do with Riddle for decades, Dumbledore. You are aware of that, I believe. What information could I possibly provide you that would be of any assistance?" the vampire flatly intoned, his eyes moving between the two wizards warily. He wore a black tuxedo, with a perfectly pressed white dress shirt and burgundy tie. His top hat hung on a hat rack next to the door. Harry did not know whether to believe him or not.
"Moreover," Cassius added, "why should I risk Riddle's wrath by helping you? He has done nothing ill to my kind."
"The answer to that question is quite simple, Cassius. If you refuse to answer, Harry will kill you right where you sit." The old man's amiable expression hardly changed a bit with this threat of murder. "I can assure you that Mr. Potter has more than enough power to perform the spell, and surely you know that I know how the spell must be performed. Unfortunately I no longer am the wizard I used to be, or I would not leave such distasteful work to a young man."
Harry could not help but drop his mouth in shock. Why had Dumbledore not warned him of this before? How could he simply assume Harry would do such a thing? He had no intention of killing this vampire or anyone else for that matter, other than Voldemort himself. Did Dumbledore not know him better than that?
Dumbledore had paused to allow his words to sink in, at which point he added, "I am aware of your falling-out with Tom Riddle, but I am also aware that he has decided to leave you in peace. Very unlike Tom to leave an enemy in peace, wouldn't you agree? Nevertheless, I am quite certain that you are looking out for your own interests. I can assure you that the information we require will not be known by Tom." Cassius squinted his eyes at Harry, trying to appraise the boy's true abilities.
"You should not make idle threats, Professor. While he may be powerful, he is still a boy."
"Harry, can you produce a patronus for Mr. Mortenson? I think you would agree, Cassius, that only a boy of substantial power can produce a patronus of the type you are about to see, and Harry has been able to do so since the age of thirteen." Dumbledore nodded at Harry who stood and reluctantly grasped his wand, not pleased at having to perform on cue.
Thinking of a happy memory, the time he sat at his kitchen table laughing with Ron and Hermione about her hair, he intoned, "Expecto Patronum," and his patronus emerged from the wand. If his stag had been impressive in the past, now it could only be termed overwhelming. The brilliantly white animal practically filled the entire office, yet it moved about it with unnatural grace. Nearly blinded, the shock on Cassius' face could not be disguised by the normally impassive countenance of a vampire. Harry shocked himself, as this stag surpassed the patronus at the lake when he saved Sirius.
The vampire soon regained his composure but did not speak for some time as he studied the two unexpected visitors. Dumbledore remained silent as well, allowing Cassius the opportunity to think things through. He had no means of escape, as the building had wards against apparation, and the small interior office contained no windows by which the vampire could flee by transforming into a bat. The boy clearly possessed superior power, unlike anything he had seen with the possible exception of Tom Riddle himself. Few wizards possessed the power to kill a vampire by means of a spell alone, but this boy clearly did. But when push came to shove, would he truly be able to cast it? In the end, the vampire decided it did not merit the risk.
"What is it you need to know so badly?" he asked in an irritated monotone.
"Perhaps you will recall a day many decades ago when I saw you on Knockturn Alley," Dumbledore began conversationally, as if he had not just threatened to kill Cassius, "You were just a few years out of Hogwarts and spent much of your time with Tom Riddle. We briefly spoke."
Cassius' eyes darted between the two wizards as he answered, "I vaguely recall, though I do not remember what was said."
"What we said is of no importance," Dumbledore explained, "but just a few moments later I ran into your great friend, Tom. I have reviewed this memory in a pensieve many times, Cassius, and quite clearly you looked back nervously, several times, and I have no doubt that you had just left Tom's presence. Do you deny it?" Dumbledore spoke these last words almost in the manner that the young Tom Riddle spoke the words, "Tell the truth."
Harry decided his role in this drama was to look tough, so he glared at the man across the desk as if he would like nothing better than to have a go at him. Whether this had any effect or not, Harry could not determine, but Cassius certainly stared at him intently before answering.
"I was with him; I do not deny it."
Continuing the narrative, Dumbledore recalled, "When I spoke to Tom a few seconds after I spoke to you, I saw him thrust an item into his pocket. It seemed to be an item of great importance to him and that he desired I not see. Our question, therefore, is simple: What was that object?"
Did Cassius know about the horcruxes, Harry wondered. Was he with Tom Riddle when he committed the murder? Harry leaned forward anticipating the answer.
"The object was a medal on a chain," Cassius finally answered. His tone of voice seemed to indicate that he could see no reason why he should not tell the truth.
"Do you know why this medal was of importance to Tom?"
"Perhaps you remember, Professor, that it was awarded to Tom at Hogwarts in his seventh year. He and several others were awarded the medals for their service to Hogwarts as prefects or other student offices. I believe that this tradition was abandoned at some later date. The medal had the image of Gryffindor on it." Dumbledore's eyes opened wide. Obviously he knew of what the vampire spoke.
"What did Tom do with the medal?" he asked.
"I have no way of knowing that. Tom did not confide such things to me, and in any event the medal meant nothing to me."
For the first time Harry joined the conversation, "What had Riddle done that day? You know don't you?" Cassius' mouth twitched ever so slightly, but the two wizards saw it.
He responded, "I just met him a few minutes earlier. I am not sure what he did. As far as I know he was working and returning to his place of employment, Borgin and Burkes."
"You are lying," Harry stated flatly. Dumbledore deferred to his protege.
"Why should I lie?" Cassius retorted, briefly losing his temper, "Why would I know what Tom did that day?"
"I saw the memory. You were nervous and looked back for Riddle several times. You are lying. I will give you one more chance," Harry threatened. He figured he needed to play his part, though he never had played the part of bully before.
"I have told you all that I know," Cassius stated with finality, rising from his chair as if to show his two guests out. He had barely left his chair, however, when Harry jumped to his feet and whipped his wand out and pointed it directly at the vampire's chest.
"What is the spell, sir?" he growled. Was he bluffing? Cassius froze, slightly bent over his desk, waiting to see what Dumbledore would do.
"Sit down, Cassius," the white-haired wizard responded calmly but firmly, "I have no desire for violence this evening, though the decision in that regard ultimately is yours. Perhaps I can put your mind at ease. We have no intention of informing any authorities of any transgressions which you may have committed, or abetted. Even if we did, the Ministry for all practical purposes no longer exists, so we have no place to deliver you. No, our target is Lord Voldemort, your old friend, Tom Riddle. Surely you have no reason to risk your life for such a man."
Harry's wand still pointed directly at his chest, without so much as a tremble. Cassius convinced himself of the wisdom in speaking the truth. Slowly he returned to his seat.
"Tom killed a muggle just before we saw you," he explained, nodding towards Dumbledore, "Some old beggar. Someone who would not be missed by anyone. I stood as a lookout, though I did not understand why at the time. Tom manipulated me, like he manipulates his followers still. He did not inform me of his intention to kill a man, but kill he did. In the muggle way. He slit the man's throat, then immediately grasped the Hogwarts medal. I do not know what he was doing, but Tom lay on the ground in great pain for a good while, half an hour perhaps. That is why he needed a lookout. He appeared to chanting something, but I was not close enough to hear. Tom never explained what he did, and I knew better than to inquire."
So the medal is a horcrux, Harry concluded sadly, for deep down he held out the hope that Voldemort had not been able to create the sixth split of his soul. Lowering his wand, he stared maliciously at the vampire, as if somehow it was all Cassius' fault. Dumbledore massaged his white goatee, deep in thought.
"Where did Tom's possessions go after his disappearance at the Potters' residence?" asked the professor.
"I no longer associated with Tom by that time, as you are well aware," Cassius responded nervously, for Harry still stood menacingly even though his wand now hung at his side, "but I do know from certain acquaintances that many of his belongings passed to Lucius Malfoy. Of what happened to the medal itself, I have no knowledge." This time Harry believed him.
As Harry left Cassius' office, he noted that occupancy of the pub at least doubled now that the hour had passed midnight. A door to the back repeatedly opened and more vampires walked in, and behind them Harry could see a bat suddenly transforming into human form. Apparently the back room served as the aerial entrance. With the additional patrons and the consumption of quantities of alcohol and perhaps other drinks (Harry did not want to think about that), the noise level increased substantially. Rarely had Harry been happier to leave a place, and as soon as he and Dumbledore turned the corner and stepped out of sight, they apparated to the small living room of the professor's flat.
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The emotions which had been suppressed finally had leave to express themselves, and in a moment Harry threw himself onto the sofa with his head in his hands. Another horcrux! He had come so far, yet still had so far to go. Perhaps he had been unreasonable in his optimism that no more horcruxes existed, but that did nothing to make the new discovery any easier to accept.
Dumbledore shuffled to the kitchen to open a bottle of a fine wine, a French merlot, and returned in a few moments with two glasses, which he set on the glass table. Filling both glasses, he slid one towards Harry, placing the other on the table as he gently sat down in his leather armchair. By now, he had removed his coat and tie, unbuttoning the top button of his white dress shirt.
"I share your disappointment, Harry," he empathized, "though I cannot say I am surprised. A medal! For years, Hogwarts awarded medals for various purposes. They were quite common, though for some reason Hogwarts discontinued their use. It never occurred to me that Tom would use that as a horcrux. But it does make sense, in that it had the image of Gryffindor. Unable to use an actual artifact of the founder, he chose an item with his image."
The aroma of the merlot reached Harry's nose, and he reached out for the glass to take a sip. Not having drunk wine often in his life, he found the taste to be harsh, but he took a larger sip anyway, then placing the glass back on the table. He leaned back on the sofa and looked at his friend and mentor.
"The medal could be anywhere," he moaned softly, trying to hide his feeling of despair, "We can't just march into Malfoy Manor to conduct a search."
"There will be no need for that. You may recall that Arthur Weasley, at your insistence, conducted a search of Malfoy Manor, and in fact has searched it on several occasions if memory serves me. Of course, he would not have found anything suspicious with an old Hogwarts medal. You will need to speak with Arthur."
Harry nodded. He had forgotten about Mr. Weasley's actions, and he felt slightly better that at least he had something he could do. That did not completely soothe his nerves.
"How do you think this horcrux can be destroyed? It seems most like the locket." The thought terrified Harry, as his battle with Slytherin's locket almost cost him his life, and he could never forget the initial attack tearing his heart apart. Could he do it again? Would he?
"Unfortunately, you may be correct," agreed Dumbledore, savoring another sip of his wine. The evening's events had exhausted him, and he slumped into his seat. "One thing we have discovered, however, is that each horcrux is unique. Whether that is by design or chance cannot be known, as Voldemort appears to be the first to divide his soul into multiple pieces. What I do know, Harry, is that you are rapidly coming into your own. Even in these few months since my resurrection, I have sensed the change in your magical presence. Voldemort never intended for any of his horcruxes to end up in the hands of a wizard of your power and capabilities." Dumbledore's confidence did not raise Harry's spirits much.
Recalling the events of the evening, Harry asked, "Why did you threaten to have me kill Cassius? You know I wouldn't have done it, not unless he attacked me."
The old man smiled and explained, "From many years of experience with vampires, I can assure you that they generally are not especially brave creatures, and by their very nature, they are self-absorbed. I had no intention of following through on the threat, Harry, though I must applaud you for how well you played your role. Cassius most likely thought that you would not follow through with the threat, though your performance almost convinced me. In the end, as I assumed, he did not choose to take the risk."
Harry took another sip of wine. Extremely tired now that the excitement of the evening had ended, he wanted to return to his bed at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore seemed to read his mind.
"I am quite exhausted, Harry. Tonight's events were especially taxing on a man of my age and condition." Indeed, the vigor that the old man displayed throughout the evening had vanished. "We should both seek the comfort of our beds. You are welcome to sleep here if you like, though I imagine you would prefer your own blanket and sheets." They smiled at each other, and Harry nodded that he would return to his home.
Taking a last sip of merlot, he stood up, preparing to apparate to the hidden spot across the street from No. 17 Grimmauld Place, only to pause and ask, "How much longer do you think we have?"
"As long as it takes, Harry."
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Arthur Weasley was nowhere to be found the next day, which irked Harry no end, as he had little to do until he determined whether the Hogwarts medal could be at Malfoy Manor. Harry slept late, sleeping off the tension of the previous evening, plus the effects of the mead and wine. By the time he descended the stairs, nobody remained in the kitchen, but in a moment Dobby appeared, somehow knowing that Harry needed to eat. Upon seeing the house elf, Harry realized that he was famished, and he ate heartily, all the while talking to Dobby.
The medal remained on his mind all through breakfast, when it dawned on him.
"Dobby, I always forget that you lived in Malfoy Manor for many years. Can I ask you a question about it?"
Dobby hopped nervously. Even though he no longer served the Malfoy family, he found it difficult to divulge secrets about them; nevertheless, his love for Harry overcame these inhibitions.
"Yes, Harry Potter can ask Dobby anything."
"Lucius Malfoy liked to collect dark-magic objects, right?" Dobby nodded. "There is one item that I'm especially interested in, and I'd like to know if you ever saw it at Malfoy Manor. It was a medal on a chain. The medal was from Hogwarts from quite a few years ago, and it has the image of Gryffindor on it."
"Oh yes, Harry Potter," squealed the elf, "Dobby knows exactly. Master Lucius was very proud of the medal. Master said that the medal belonged to the dark lord, that it was among the belongings of the dark lord after the dark lord disappeared."
"Do you know where it is?" Harry asked excitedly. This may be easier than he imagined.
"Yes, yes. Master placed the medal in a frame and hung it on the wall of the library. The medal has been there for many years, ever since the dark lord disappeared."
"That's excellent, Dobby" Harry responded with a grin, "At least we know where it is. I need that medal badly. Somehow I have to get into that house and take it. Do you know how to get into Malfoy Manor, Dobby?"
"No. Malfoy Manor has many protections. Only a slave elf can come and go unless he comes with an invited wizard. Dobby cannot enter any longer."
"Oh well, that would have been too easy," Harry muttered, only slightly disappointed. At least he had a good idea where the medal may be located. They could work on a plan to break into Malfoy Manor later.
At that moment, he saw Hermione walk through the kitchen door, her eyes red and puffy. She had been crying.