Chapter Five: The Plot

Harry hoped the teachers would leave quickly—Albus seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. The moment he thought they were out of earshot he let go. The two of them burst out of the cupboard, landing on their knees.

Albus was hyperventilating. "They're going to kill me."

"Put your head between your knees," Harry advised quickly. "Deep breathing … that's it."

"They're going to kill me!" Albus raised his head, looking sideways at Harry in shock. "Why are you so calm about it?"

"They're not going to kill you." Harry scrambled to his feet and checked the coast was clear. "They'll have to get past me first." He bit his lip. "Maybe this is why I was sent back to your time? To save you?"

Albus shook his head. "It can't be. I'm not important."

Harry snorted. "You're twelve years old, Albus. How do you know you won't end up doing something great? You've got a brilliant mind, you could do anything you wanted. Trust me, I know." He turned round to face him. "And you can start by explaining what it is you know that they don't want you to know."

"Not here. Please, Harry, we need to get out of here."

"I couldn't agree more. C'mon."

The boys fled to the Room of Requirement, and Harry made Albus a hot chocolate.

After a while, Albus seemed less panicked, but he was still tense despite the hot drink. Harry gently reminded him that he couldn't do much to help him if he did not know what all this was about. Eventually Albus gave in.

"The Headmistress and my father," he spoke in a quiet voice, "and a couple of others have been working on a secret project. They received funding from the Ministry somehow; I don't know how – they probably think they are doing something beneficial for wizardkind. Actually, it's the opposite."

Harry nodded, letting Albus continue.

"I went into my father's study. I'm not supposed to; I thought he might have borrowed my quill and I … didn't want to ask him. I saw the plans on his desk."

"Plans?"

"It's some kind of machine. Like …" Albus seemed to struggle to find a comparison. "You know how … how shows get transmitted across the country to wirelesses?"

"Yes," Harry said, thinking of television but deciding not to mention that.

"Well, it's something that could transmit spells across the country. I suppose theoretically it could use any spell, but the example given on the plans was the Imperious."

Harry's eyes widened. "Imperious? Are you sure?"

Albus nodded. "If the contraption worked, whoever owned it could control everyone; wizards and Muggles alike."

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. "And I thought Vol—er, someone I knew, was power-mad."

"I don't know how close it is to being ready," Albus said. "Or where they're hiding it. And no doubt Father has hidden the plans now. So I cannot prove anything … no-one would believe me."

"I believe you," Harry said firmly. "And we'll figure out a way to prove it later; for the moment, let's just focus on keeping you alive, all right?" He chewed his lip. "If Umbridge and Hopkirk are in on it, who knows how many of the other teachers might be … maybe we should get away from Hogwarts."

"And then what?"

"Work out a way to stop them. Trust me, Albus, I have experience in these matters."

"I meant … Where do we go?"

Harry hesitated. It was a good question. Where was there? Anywhere in the wizarding world would lead to curious questions as to why they weren't at Hogwarts. On the other hand, in the Muggle world, they would be questioned about where their parents were—Albus was only twelve; and while Harry was sixteen, he had always looked a little young for his age.

"You have a point," he said. "I don't know. We'll have to hide somewhere—" Harry broke off and his eyes lit up as inspiration struck. "Of course!"

"What? Where?"

"Right here," Harry said firmly.

The Room of Requirement, which up until that point had been the usual copy of their common room, changed around them. Harry and Albus kept still while it transformed, and then looked around. The Room had arranged itself as a combination of the common room and dormitory with a kitchen area and bathroom. A large mirror was on the wall and a portrait of Godric Gryffindor over the fireplace. Both four-poster beds had a Hogwarts trunk at the bottom of it.

"I didn't think the Room could do that," Harry said as Albus opened one trunk to find all his belongings.

Inside Harry's trunk was his school uniform and the books Albus had lent him. They were after all the only things he owned in this time. He closed the trunk again, sorely missing the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak—both would have come in so handy.

"So," Albus said, straightening up and looking back at Harry. "What now?"

Harry's stomach grumbled and he realised it was nearing dinner time. "Eat," he said firmly. "And I think after a good night's sleep we need to consider our options."

"Harry …" Albus trailed off, biting his lip.

"Yes?" Harry nudged him.

"Just … thank you. I mean, you're putting your life on the line too—"

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Harry said, "but if it does—I'm with you, Albus. No matter what. Okay?"

Albus nodded.

"Right. Let's see what the Room has on offer, I'm famished."

As with the hot chocolates, the Room had not provided a full meal but the means of making one. The years of cooking for the Dursleys paid off as Harry whipped up two omelettes—the fastest meal he could think of with the ingredients provided.

Albus was understandably quiet as they ate, pale and tense. "How long do you think it will be before they figure out we've gone?"

Harry considered the question. "Dunno. Not being at dinner's not a crime; probably not until curfew."

"And if they come looking for us?"

"They won't find us," Harry assured Albus gently. "This is the best place in the castle to hide. As long as we're in here, Hogwarts will keep us safe, I promise."

Albus nodded, but still looked worried. After they had eaten he took to bed with a book, although he didn't seem to be turning any pages. Harry tried to finish one of his essays, but his mind couldn't focus either.

A thought struck him. "Albus," he said, "do you not have any other family? Maybe someone who could help—"

Albus shook his head. "No I don't," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Father is my only living relative."

Harry frowned slightly, confused. He knew for a fact that Albus had a brother—

Then it hit him. Aberforth Evans.

He knew that he had heard the name before, but he had been trying desperately not to recall the details, not wanting to know about the life that lay before him. Now, however, it came flooding back, and he mused that it could have been worse. He hadn't wanted to know when he was going to die—but then, at least he could tell he was going to have a reasonable length of time before then. For the first time in years, he was no longer convinced he would die young, and the thought cheered him up tremendously.

And a Potions teacher, eh? If only he could see Snape's face at that information. Although he was unlikely to ever see the greasy bat again—another reason to celebrate.

He still had a couple of questions—how and why Albus ended up changing from Bourdon to Dumbledore, and how Harry had ended up being classified as his brother. At this point, Albus was unlikely to know, so Harry didn't bother to ask. Still … it was going to be one heck of an interesting ride finding out!

He pushed away his homework and settled down to sleep, basking in the warm glow of Molly's compliments and the smug satisfaction that Snape had been so very wrong about him.


Thanks to the early night, Harry woke earlier than he would have liked and, after surmising he was not going to fall asleep again, stumbled out of bed and started making coffee. He peeked in on Albus; the boy was still sleeping, but it didn't look restful.

Harry sighed. The elation of the previous evening had gone; he was left with a heavy heart. He knew Albus must be looking to him to figure this out, which struck him as rather ironic, and he was feeling the pressure to find a way to get them out of this.

It could be worse, he kept reminding himself. Albus said he couldn't change history—that meant he knew for a fact they both got out of this alive. Still, the situation was probably more terrifying to the twelve-year-old who hadn't had the benefit of seeing proof of the future.

Harry wracked his brains for an answer while he drank his coffee, but they hadn't come up with anything by the time a redhead emerged from the other bed. "Morning," Albus mumbled.

"Morning," Harry replied, trying to sound cheerful. "Do you want some breakfast? I'm not that hungry myself, but I don't mind cooking if you fancy it."

Albus shook his head. "Think toast will do, thanks Harry."

Harry put bread in the toaster—the Room was more impressive than he thought, as he was pretty sure toasters had not been invented yet—and poured Albus out some coffee.

"You should eat more than that," Harry said as Albus laid down his toast after a few half-hearted nibbles, and then cringed. He sounded like Molly Weasley. The thought gave him a pang.

"I'm not very hungry."

After a few minutes' persuasion, Albus took a couple more bites and then pushed his plate away. Harry swallowed his last mouthful and did the same.

"Right," he said, trying to sound decisive and like he knew what he was talking about. "We need to form a plan of action. I think our best—well, actually, our only—option is to find this contraption to be able to prove our story to the Ministry of Magic."

Albus nodded, almost as pale as he was last night, and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"Can you remember any details on the plans that might give some clue?" Harry tried pressing gently. Albus bit his lip, thoughtful, but after a few minutes shook his head.

"No. Only how it worked. Before you ask, there was not anything to suggest who else might be involved, either."

Harry's heart sank, but he continued on doggedly, trying not to show his disappointment. "All right then … we know your father, Umbridge and Hopkirk all are. There could be more, but for the moment, what do we know about them? What do you know about them; you've known them longer than I have."

Albus bit his lip. "The Headmistress has very good contacts with the Ministry," he said after a moment. "On more than one occasion she has mentioned relatives who are very high up there. She is also on first-name terms with the Minister, I saw them together once."

Great, Harry thought. It wasn't fair he had to deal with two Umbridges in one lifetime, it really wasn't.

"Hopkirk's relatively new to the school, he started when I did. I don't know much about him—I'm not even sure I know his first name. Umbridge's is Atrocia. And my father's name is Ottmar Bourdon." He hesitated, and Harry waited, reluctant to push him too much about an obviously sensitive topic.

"I … don't know what to tell you," Albus muttered after several minutes.

"Anything that might be relevant." Harry cast his mind around. "Is there anywhere apart from his study that he goes, where you're not allowed?"

"Yes; half the rooms in the house," Albus replied. "But the contraption would be too big to hide there, and he wouldn't anyway in case I saw it. It has to be somewhere else."

"Does he ever come to Hogwarts?" Harry suggested. "This place is great for hiding secret things, no matter what the size."

Albus shook his head. "No, and he would have to visit it to help build it, or else he would not have the plans in his possession. I got the impression that Atrocia Umbridge is the one in charge, I expect that makes my father the … contractor, so to speak."

"Contractor?" Harry thought for a moment. "Albus, what does Mr Bourdon do; where does he work?"

"He's an Unspeakable," Albus replied. "The Department of Mys—"

He broke off, his eyes suddenly shining.

"The Department of Mysteries," Harry whispered. He had a peculiar feeling in his stomach—a mixture of hope and dread. It was an odd combination. "That makes sense, I suppose; if there's anywhere good for hiding things …"

"You can't just walk into the Department of Mysteries, though," Albus said. "We'd never get in."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Harry said with a slight smile. "I've been in there."

"You have?"

"Yes. I mean, that was in the future, but how much can it have changed since then? Problem is getting into the Ministry in the first place." He figured the visitor entrance was probably not a phone box nowadays, since he didn't think they existed yet.

Albus shook his head. "That's not a problem. Father once took me in through the visitor entrance; I know the way."

Harry brightened. "Great!"

"I've heard the Department security is extreme, though."

"It is. The first room has loads of identical doors and it spins around so you don't know which one you came through. You can mark the doors with a spell, but they do fade eventually."

"We could try something else," Albus suggested. "Like paint. That might not fade."

"Good idea …"

TBC …