The Outlaw
By: Tellemicus Sundance
Chapter 5—Wavering Flames
July 6, 1996
Saturday, 12:50pm
Wiltshire, Stonehenge
With a world-weary sigh, Albus Dumbledore dropped into the chair of his private study at the Order's new secret headquarters. The past two days of searching the many Gringotts banks, finding and acquiring what he believed he was after, and then escaping Gringotts and the Hebridean swarm was nothing short of an exhausting experience, even for one such as him.
Looking down at the goblet that he strongly suspected to be that of Helga Hufflepuff herself, Dumbledore just felt a yearning sadness fall over him. What he was planning to do with this legendary and priceless artifact of Hogwarts history was as villainous as it was blasphemous. And he knew that that had been Tom's purpose in choosing this item as the instrument for containing his soul fragment in.
Tearing his gaze away from the cup, Albus walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the chamber and withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor. Hefting the goblin blade up, he hesitated for one eternal moment before bringing the sword down on the priceless artifact.
How could he even think of doing this? This cup was worth more than one hundred times its weight in gold. It was a proud remainder of the humble beginnings of the greatest magically school in history. And who knew just what other secrets it held beneath the surface? It was as that thought was trickling through his mind that Dumbledore realized that those thoughts hadn't been his own. Focusing his sharp mind on the intruding presence that had taken refuge there, he 'turned' to face it head on and shoved it forcefully from his mind.
It was then that a black and gray vapor began to emit from the cup itself. Dumbledore watched it, cautiously keeping himself at the ready for any more tricks. He watched as the vapor condensed to form a familiar face that sent a stake of regret and overwhelming sadness through his heart. The vapor had gathered into his sister's face.
"Albus, what are you doing?" 'she' asked, sounding and looking very scared and hurt. "If you do that, I will die. There will be no chance of ever being able to bring me back."
Despite himself, Dumbledore found himself lowering Gryffindor's sword as he stared yearningly at Ariana's face. "I'm sorry, my dear sister…I do not understand. What do you mean in that?"
"Helga's Cup has the ability of granting the drinker his or her dearest wish," Ariana answered, looking hopeful that he might believe her. "And what you desire more than anything is the chance to see me come back and live the life I had been robbed of. All you need to do is drink from this cup and give me a little of your magic, and it will be done."
The offer was tempting, so extremely tempting! For that was indeed one of his most dearest wishes, alongside getting his dear best friend back, before he'd gotten twisted by the promises and perils of power. Dumbledore was actually just a few seconds away of complying with the instructions when his sharp mind caught something. Ariana had said she would 'die' and that apparently all she needed was a 'little' of his magic to be brought back. But if that were true, wouldn't have Helga Hufflepuff have used that power as well? Would it have been known, if only in rumors? That thought made him realize he was being tricked.
Hefting the sword back up over his head, he gave the cup one last look before closing his eyes and delivering the strike. With a terrible shrieking sound, the vapor hovering over the cup was sliced in two as the blade passed through it. A split second later, the cup shattered as the empowered sword smashed into and through it. With one final scream, the vapor dissipated and vanished like smoke in the wind.
Stepping away from the wreckage, Albus stared down mournfully at it before returning the sword to the cabinet. Waving his wand over the debris, Albus stared sadly at the ruined pieces that remained of Hufflepuff's cup. His theory was correct: the basilisk venom in Gryffindor's sword was quite sufficient at completely destroying the soul piece.
"Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Severus?" Albus asked as he picked up the cup's debris carefully, almost reverently actually.
Stepping forward into the light, the foreboding figure of Severus Snape appeared. "Was that really necessary, Headmaster?"
"I'm afraid so, Severus," Albus answered as he turned and gently placed the pieces of the cup onto a shelf in the cabinet with the sword. "I have finally discovered how and why Tom was able to survive all those years ago, and thus how to finally kill him."
"What?" Severus asked, surprised and hopeful at once.
"I'm sorry, Severus," Dumbledore explained calmly. "I cannot explain it to you just yet. Not until I've nearly finished with the task I have set out to accomplish."
"But what if you get killed or incapacitated before you can finish this task?" Severus questioned, regaining his calm and composure.
"Never fear, Severus," Dumbledore answered with a waning smile. "I have already thought out all possible contingency plans. But we're getting off subject. What is it that you came here to tell me?"
"Just an update on Voldemort," Severus answered.
Nodding, Dumbledore motioned to the man to take a seat. As the younger man was doing so, Dumbledore summoned a pair of glasses of Firewhiskey and some of leftovers of Molly's home-cooked dinner from the previous night. Although he poured himself a glass, Severus didn't bother trying any of Molly's food. After watching Dumbledore start digging into his meal, he motioned for Severus to start his report.
"Things are getting very pressured right now," Snape began. "Voldemort has sent Lucius Malfoy abroad to search for more new recruits for his Death Eater ranks but also for foreign aid in the recovery and reconstruction efforts. I do believe that the first of these new recruits are scheduled to arrive in Great Britain late next week, along with any other foreign aid Lucius was able to acquire."
"Do you know what type of aid Tom is requesting for?" Dumbledore asked.
"Mostly it was for more Beast Executioners to deal with the dragons and construction crews to help with building the new Ministry building and various other Diagon Alley shops," Snape answered easily. "I believe that Voldemort is planning to turn Hogsmeade into the new center of our Wizarding World, while leaving London to the dragons and Muggles."
After a moment of contemplation, Dumbledore nodded his agreement in Snape's guess. For a man who despised everything that was about Muggles, it seemed quite like Tom to do such a thing now that he had the perfect excuse and opportunity to. Completely separating from and severing all contact with the Muggles by relocating the major government and business centers of Magical Britain into the one remaining pure-magical village in Great Britain.
"But that's not the end of it," Snape continued. "With the loss of the Alleys and having to negotiate the Goblins into relocating as well, the Ministry treasury is nearly empty of funds. The Dark Council is suggesting he starts charging high taxes for all Muggleborns. And I suspect that he's planning to…replace Fudge with a new and more competent Minister. That way he wouldn't have to continue the charade of having a buffoon in charge and to help alleviate some suspicions."
"Oh dear," was all Dumbledore could say to that.
If it was Voldemort's plan to use a Pureblood-friendly Ministry to cause civil war with the numerically superior Muggleborns, this would be the quickest and surest way of initiating it. Of the thirty thousand wizards in Great Britain, only about two thousand of them were Purebloods. And while they might have knowledge of the finer points of magic that could give them an advantage in a civil war, the death toll would be incredibly high on both sides before the fighting finally stopped. And that wasn't even including the new recruits that Severus had mentioned earlier that would be coming in to bolster the Death Eaters' ranks.
"It would appear that I had better carry out my hunt much more quickly than I originally intended," Dumbledore said. Looking up at Snape with an extremely penetrating gaze, he considered the man for a long moment, making Severus want to shift slightly in his discomfort at its intensity. "Severus, I do believe that it is time I finally stepped down. I name you as the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"M-Me?" Snape stuttered in surprise, his eyes widening fractionally at the declaration. "But, Headmaster, surely—"
"My choice has already been made," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "I trust you to not let any of the children be unjustly treated or mysteriously disappear. Voldemort will kill me eventually, and I would rather have a man of my own choosing leading and protecting the school rather than someone…not so trustworthy. Besides, this gives me time to properly train and protect young Harry until he's able to fulfill his role in what's to come."
"As you wish, Headmaster," Severus bowed deeply in acceptance of not only the man's reasons but also of the title and responsibilities he bestowed him. However, that wasn't to say that he was going to be looking forward to that job, especially when Potter finally resurfaced.
"Now, come, Severus," Dumbledore said, suddenly seeming his old grandfatherly self. "Let us fellow Headmasters talk and reminisce over days gone by."
Harry Potter – Reign of Fire
1:01pm
London, Platform 9¾
As was the norm for the past few days, the magical train platform was alive and jam-packed with far too many people, even though it had been expanded to nearly five times its previous length. The beloved red locomotive that was the Hogwarts Express, as always, was the epicenter of the massive crowd that filled the platform. Normally, the train was only used twice a year to ferry students and the occasional teacher to the northern tip of Scotland and the magical school that waited there. But in light of the emergency situation and the approaching apocalypse that was the Hebridean Black dragon swarm, the magical train had been pressed into service earlier and well after its usual times of service.
Rather than ferrying children towards their homes and awaiting families, it was being used to carry as much of everything that the wizarding folk could squeeze aboard it and its compartments. The normal twenty passenger compartments had been replaced with over one hundred cargo carriages. Each of the carriages had been divided into different sections, such as the food and produce portion at the rear, magical artifacts and important items ahead of that, furniture and other living necessities towards the center, forbidden or confidential Ministry stuff ahead of that, potions and their many different ingredients ahead of that, and the remainder of the St. Mungo's patients towards the front.
People were racing to fill as much of the magically-expanded interiors of these carriages as they could before the platform official decreed that it was no longer safe to remain within the ruins of the once bustling city of London. With the sounds of many explosions and high caliber machine gun fire that were steadily drawing nearer in the distance, the sense of urgency and fear were substantially increasing. If one were to look on the horizon, past the charred and smoking buildings, they could've easily seen trails and streaks of light from missiles, anti-aircraft fire, and mortar explosions flashing through the air. Along with the shrieks of jetfighters, attack helicopters, and other aircraft that were filling the skies, trying frantically to stop or at least stall the massive swarm of approaching dragons that were hell-bent of reaching the city that held so many appetizing scents and creatures for them to dine on.
Throughout it all, one man stood apart of the rest. He and a select few others were standing in the front most carriage that had been hurriedly refitted into a type of office. About twenty wizards were sitting at desks, using magic to constantly tally and keep track of everything that entered the carriages. It was a highly demanding and extremely fast-paced job that pushing the poor wizards who gotten selected for the job to their limits.
But one Percy Weasley wasn't going to be the first (or even one of them) who complained about the brutal pace that they were being pushed at. He understood just how incredibly important a task they were doing and he wouldn't allow any hiccups in the reports to come from his end!
"Still working hard, Weasley?" a familiar voice asked over his shoulder.
"Yes, Minister," he answered without breaking his concentration from his work. "It's a very demanding job."
"Indeed it is, carry on with the good work," Fudge said before he turned as walked over to his advisers.
Despite himself, Percy glanced quickly up at the Minister with a small smile. Now there was a man who truly showed his worth when the going got tough. Percy firmly believed that if it weren't for the Minister's quick and easy thinking in the crises that they were experiencing these past few weeks, the Wizarding World wouldn't have been in nearly as good a shape as they were now.
And to think that his dear family had been trying to tell him not to support him for the majority of the year! But who were they to talk when they openly accepted and tried spreading the lies and misinformation that miscreant brat and a man who was secretly plotting to take over the Ministry for himself? Of course, Percy knew better. And he even knew of what the Minister's goals and dreams were in the coming years.
Truly, Minister Fudge was Merlin's gift to all Wizarding folk!
Quickly returning his attention to his work, Percy carried on with his job of hastily counting and sorting through the mess that was appearing on his desk.
Fudge walked up to the locomotive engine compartment. Looking around, he saw that he was alone in the compartment. Turning, he watched the horizon as the pitiful Muggles continued to put up their worthless defenses. He could see that a great deal of the flashes and explosions had died off since the last time he'd looked. That could only mean that the dragons finally overran them
Still, as completely futile as it had been, those Muggles were putting up one hell of a fight. That much Fudge had to grudgingly admit to since he had fully expected them to crumble and flee like the lesser beings they were as soon as they came face to face with the first of the dragons. Just like how so many of their so-called knights and heroes of centuries past had. They'd provoked a dragon, left the real fight to the wizards, and took all the glory of the victory for themselves from the Muggles of the village or town they'd supposedly saved. He couldn't believe that he, at one time, had actually been somewhat fair-minded towards those…things.
'It would seem that Muggles have grown something of a backbone since those days,' Fudge thought to himself, already knowing the reason why. In contempt, he practically spat out, "Muggles and their guns."
"Minister," a voice behind said. "I've just had word that the dragons have passed the Muggles' second defense line. They'll be within the city borders in less than half an hour at this rate. I strongly recommend we leave now!"
Turning to face the speaker, Fudge saw that it was old Mr. Otto Lexiwood, the Express conductor. The old man was jittery from fright with a slightly panicked breathing. If it weren't for the oppressive cool calmness that had settled over and taken control of his mind since the chaos of Diagon Alley, Fudge knew he'd have been in exactly the same state, if not even more so.
"Are we finished loading?" he asked calmly as he turned his gaze back out to the horizon.
"N-No," Lexiwood answered. "But that's not the point! If we don't leave now, we won't be able to escape the dragons without them spotting us! They'll destroy the Express and everyone on it before we even left the city!"
"Then I guess we better hurry and finish loading," Fudge said, not at all disturbed by Lexiwood's panic. "We leave in twenty minutes or when we finish loading, whichever comes first. Make the announcement."
Though the man had paled to nearly sheet white, he complied with the order and picked a microphone to repeat the announcement.
This train would be the very last to leave London, heavily laden down with everything the Wizarding World had managed to scavenge from the wreckage of their Ministry, hospital, and shopping alleys. And with this final train load, the Wizarding World would have nothing more to do with the Muggle city ever again. Like Stonehenge before it, London would now be left purely to the Muggles to fend for…or rather, the dragons at this point. With his magnificent new Ministry nearing completion in Hogsmeade, Fudge's plans for reclaiming Scotland from the lesser beings that had long ago overrun and overpopulated it would be one step closer to fulfillment. Plans that he had only shared with one person at this point, the ever helpful and respectful red-haired Weasley. Now there was a boy who was going to go far in life.
Oh yes, it was long past time Wizards started reclaiming that which was rightfully theirs! Fudge knew he alone had what it took to make Scotland, and eventually all of Great Britain, into a true paradise of the Wizarding World!
To be sure that what they reclaimed would remain in their possession, he would probably have to redouble his Aurors. Maybe he should also create a new branch of them to help them weed out the undesirable elements that lurked just below the surface. Starting with that retched liar and completely unworthy excuse of a boy who didn't deserve the priceless gift of magic he'd been bestowed.
Harry Potter would answer for all of his heinous crimes, slowly and painfully!
Harry Potter – Reign of Fire
1:06pm
Hogsmeade Village, Shrieking Shack
"The dragons are entering London as we speak, my Lord," one of his faceless Death Eaters informed him. "Fudge has ordered nearly the Ministry's entire Auror force to defend the Express as they make their journey here."
"Good," Voldemort purred as he lovingly stroked his dear Nagini. Looking around the conference room, he frowned when he saw that someone prominent had yet to arrive. "Where is Severus?"
Various heads began glancing amongst one another, searching for the answer.
"My Lord," squeaked an unpleasantly familiar voice. When the entire room's attention was suddenly drawn to him, Peter seemed to almost shrink lower into his nearly-vacant seat than he already was. If it weren't for some sliver of a spine that he had, he would've sprinted for the nearest exit that he could find when he noticed the Dark Lord's serpentine gaze was on him as well. "I-I-I-I know where Sn-Snape is. He said that—that he had to speak with…Dumbledore about something."
"Really?" Voldemort drawled. His gaze turning almost murderous as a thin smile began to spread across his lips. Though whether it was for Snape or Peter was debatable. "And did he just happen to mention anything worth knowing about, Wormtail?"
"He-He-He said he was going to try t-t-to talk P-P-Potter's location out of him, my Lord!" Wormtail hurriedly stuttered out, feeling acutely aware of how much danger he was in. "And if Dumbledore had succeeded in his p-p-p-project in Gringotts."
"Aw, very good," Voldemort said, his killing intent seeming to vanish completely.
"My Lord," Avery spoke up. "It has come to my attention that Dumbledore seems to be acting far more aggressively than he ever has in the past. Would it not be wise to keep that filthy Mudblood off your Council, where he's sure to hear your plans and pass them on?"
"You question my judgment?" Voldemort asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper. The feeling of impending doom returned, twice as powerful and yet even more dangerous because it was trying to hide itself.
"N-N-No, my Lord!" Avery stuttered out. "I-I just do not trust that man."
"Is that so?" Voldemort's tone and volume hadn't changed in the least. "You know that the only way onto my Council is if I determine my underling's worthy of the position. And Severus has time and again delivered to me very useful information; information that not even the whole of the Ministry had been able to gain me. It is my faith and trust that I place into every man and woman who serves on my Council. And now you are questioning that same faith and trust I have placed in you by questioning my decision in Severus. Is that right?"
Poor Avery was caught between a rock and a hard place, and everyone knew it. The only sound in the room was that of Bellatrix trying to quietly restrain her giggling at what she and everyone else knew was coming.
Sure enough, the Dark Lord idly pointed his wand towards the man and muttered, "Crucio!"
Avery was knocked out of his seat and sent to the floor in a convulsing mass of torturous, mind-crippling agony. After only a few moments, though they must've felt like an eternity to Avery, Voldemort released the man and allowed him to numbly climb back to his feet and hesitantly reclaim his seat. "Don't forget that it was I who has placed you on this Council, and I can remove you from it just as easily. Severus has his uses to me, which is why he's allowed to sit with us."
Turning his attention back to his Dark Council, he said, "Nevertheless, while Severus may be loyal to me, I do not trust Dumbledore. So, how goes the preparations for our little coup d'état this evening?"
"We are progressing on schedule, my Lord," Amycus Carrow answered immediately and calmly. "We've already staked out a location along the tracks that the Express will travel. And I've heard that Greyback wishes to be a part of the operation. His werewolves in Wales would be an excellent distraction for the Aurors who are protecting the train while we sneak aboard, my Lord."
Considering the idea, Voldemort nodded his head in acceptance. "Do it. Contact Greyback and relocate him to the ambush site. And make sure that you kill Fudge in a way that keeps the people from knowing it's me behind this. Wouldn't want them to start blaming our dear 'outlaw' friend now, would we?" That statement drew a few chuckles from the gathered councilors as they glanced about each other in dark amusement towards poor Harry Potter's plight.
Glancing between each of his underlings, Voldemort suddenly got an intriguing idea. "And inform my Death Eaters of my latest reward. If they are able to bring Potter to me before next weekend, I shall make that person the new Minister of Magic."
That got everyone's attention in an instant.
Harry Potter – Reign of Fire
1:23pm
Outskirts of London
The train was finally moving. Even though it was cloaked under a layer of hastily applied Disillusionment Charms, every single witch and wizard who'd been drafted into escort duty of the Express were positively on edge with nerves and overwhelming fear. It was a well-founded fear that the swarm of approaching Hebridean Blacks would notice the disillusioned train, see it as prey, and attack with all of their well-documented ferocity.
"Oh, sweet Merlin," one of the Aurors was quietly muttering to themselves, watching the skies like everyone else. "I hate this… Why couldn't it have Hippogriffs who were rampaging around the world or Giants, Trolls, or even Goblins? Why did it have to be dragons? I hate dragons!"
"Will you shut up?" one of companions hissed bad-temperedly. "If you spoke any louder, you'd probably get their attention and bring them down on us!"
"Don't even joke about that!" the Auror yelped fearfully.
"I wouldn't have to if you'd shut the bloody fuck up!" the second snapped. "Shut up or I swear that I'll throw you to them if you bring them down on us!"
"That's enough!" Percy snapped at them. He was a little ways further down the carriage, but he could hear their heated whisperings clearly in the otherwise silent tension that was filling the carriage. "We're all scared and your paranoid delusions and arguments aren't helping anyone! Now keep your eyes on the sky or I'll have you reassigned to Azkaban guard duty."
Azkaban was of course one of several jobs that all Aurors prayed that they'd never have to do, for obvious reasons. The fact that Percy, as the Junior Undersecretary of the Minister, had the power to do as he threatened was more than enough to shut both of them up immediately.
Time seemed to slowly pass as seconds stretched into hours and hours into days. The jittery wizards had their eyes focused on the skies around them as the invisible train began to slowly gain speed and momentum, steadily drawing ever further away from the city of London and the passing horde of Blacks that flew over their heads. If not for a small lurch that jostled the train as it passed over a small section of uneven railing, the Express just might've escaped the London area without any problems.
However, this small hiccup in the train track sent a small bounce through the train compartments. Because of how tightly and haphazardly packed they had been stored due the wizards' rush to fill as much space as they could, they hadn't had the time to realize that they were setting up a potential disaster. A teetering stack of potion ingredients were jarred loose and sent tumbling off their place.
With a smash, the glass jars holding the ingredients shattered as they collided with one another and the flooring. Because of the various natures of these ingredients when mixed together, the reaction was almost an eruption of flammable gases that began filling the carriage. After only a brief moment, the gases began reacting to smoke-tainted air of the city around the train. Flames burst to life instantaneously, spreading through the carriage within seconds.
Sadly none of the wizards spotted the danger until it was far too late. Because most of their attentions were more focused on the sky and the dragons (especially the wizards towards the front carriages), they failed to notice the trail of black smoke they were leaving behind them. But soon enough, the wizards in the back of the train spotted the flames and quickly raised the alarm. They scrambled over one another to reach the carriage and hurriedly drown the flames, saving what they could of the ingredients. But it was too little too late by then.
A dragon was bearing down on them.
At first the dragon had swooped low over them, examining its prey. A few brave, foolish, or trigger-happy wizards had sent out a few volleys of curses, charms, and jinxes, trying to dissuade the flying beast from returning. But all they did was provoke it, taking the attacks as a challenge. Circling around, it flew up alongside the still-smoldering carriage, which was also still the only one it could see.
Either through fear or being ordered to, none of the wizards in the carriages closest to the dragon tried attacking the beast as it flew beside them. After a moment of it staring at the moving pillar of smoke with a clear intelligence behind those golden eyes, the dragon pulled away. At first, the wizards let out a collective sigh of relief. It was leaving them alone. It must've decided that they weren't worth the trouble.
"It was only playing with us," the Auror from earlier muttered, relief obvious in his voice. "Thank you, great Merlin."
"It wasn't playing with us, fool," one of the others growled, his eyes tracking the creature as it flew higher into the air. "It was probing us."
"What are you talking about?" the Auror asked, uncomprehendingly. "It didn't attack us. It must've not been interested—"
"Of course it didn't attack us!" the man snapped, glaring disgustedly at the Auror. "It was sizing us up first. Now it's going to attack us!"
As if summoned by the man's words, there came a loud hissing roar that could be clearly heard over the din of the train engine. Seconds later, the dragon swooped low over the train again, breathing out a long trail of flame that encompassed the entire chain of carriages. The powerful dragon flames instantly caused the feeble Disillusionment Charms to falter and drop. Chaos erupted aboard the train as the wizards and witches scrambled to extinguish the dragon flames and save what they could of the Express' precious cargo from the conflagration.
No one had time or the presence of mind to really keep track of the dragon. So the wizards in the front most carriage behind the engine were caught by surprise when the ceiling suddenly collapsed in on them, pinning quite a few men and women under debris. Among those caught by surprise and trapped was Cornelius Fudge himself, knocked off his feet by a long, heavy piece of a wooden ceiling beam. It landed heavily upon his right shoulder, breaking his weak, old collar and shoulder bones.
"Minister, look out!" someone yelled.
Fudge only had enough time to look up from where he was lying. The sight he saw before his world erupted in bone-crushing agony was the massive maw and dagger-like teeth of the dragon's jaw as it descended upon him. Fudge never even got a chance to scream in pain before his crushed body vanished down the dragon's throat.
The Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was dead.
Harry Potter – Reign of Fire
1:47pm
Once the dragon had had its fill of eating the poor wizards who'd been trapped inside the front carriage with the Minister, it had lifted off and disappeared, leaving the remaining wizards to battle its still-burning fires.
A few Aurors had, in their panic, Apparated to Hogsmeade in a vain attempt to get reinforcements (and to escape that death trap that the train had become). Alas, news of Fudge's death spread quickly through the Ministry and Hogsmeade, and thus the English Wizarding World in general.
In next to no time, nearly everyone knew of attack. Though the Express would eventually limp into Hogsmeade Station within another six or seven hours, plans and discussions were being hurriedly revised, reviewed, and even concealed. And among those was a certain ambush force that had been sent to kill Fudge.
Greyback's reaction to the news had been that of considerable disappointment. Once he'd vented his rage, his first calm statement to the news had been a rather jeering remark of: "We have been sent on a fool's errand, to assassinate a Minister who's already dead?"
Harry Potter – Reign of Fire
July 7, 1996
Sunday, 7:10am
Gloucestershire, Cotswold Hills
A loud buzzing of an alarm jarred Harry from his sleep. With his body moving on its own to shut off the infernal mechanism, Harry's consciousness dragged itself out of its drowsy state and slowly started rebooting itself. For a moment, he just laid back in the sheets and soft pillows of his bed, thoroughly enjoying just how comfortable they were. He could honestly say that, at that moment, if he had the choice to remain in bed for the rest of the day, he gladly would've. But as it was, the more his mind began to awaken, so did his body and he became aware of an immediate need to relieve himself. After doing his business in the restroom, which included taking a quick shower, he changed into a new set of clothes and walked outside.
Moving through the motorhome was almost an exercise in memory for Harry. At first he had to reorient himself with where he first remembered the stairs were, and then he had to remember which direction led to the kitchen and not the garage. Much to his embarrassment, he'd actually mixed up that second part and found himself staring at Darius' indoor garage. Thankfully, the man wasn't there to see his blunder and Harry carefully schooled his expression to keep his slight embarrassment from showing on his face as he reached the door at the opposite end of the hall.
As soon as the door opened, a tantalizing aura of cooking food washed over Harry. The smell was so alluring that it almost caused him to start drooling in hunger. Looking towards the source of the delicious smell, he found Darius standing before the oven, handling the sizzling food with the easy expertise of years of experience.
"Morning, Harry," the man said without turning to look at him as Harry moved quietly into the room. "What kind of egg do you want, scrambled or over easy?"
"Uh…over easy?" Harry answered hesitantly. Looking around, he saw that the table hadn't been set yet. "Where're the dishes, sir?"
"Darius," the man corrected easily as he vaguely waved his hand over towards a section of cabinets and drawers. "And they're right over there."
After several minutes of silence after Harry picked out the dishes and set the table, Darius finished his cooking and Harry found that his meal was some eggs, toast with grape jelly, hash browns, sausage, and a large glass of milk. The food looked every bit as appetizing as it smelled. The slight ache in his stomach reminded Harry of just how little he'd eaten the previous day due to his overwhelming sense of dread for the events that had been taking place around him (the dragons attacking London, the Muggles frantic defense and flight from the city, and his mysterious new savior). Thus Harry practically fell upon the meal with a voracious viciousness.
Once the meal had been devoured and Harry set about doing the dishes as a 'thank you' for Darius, the black man had dropped down into one of the chairs and pulled out a folder of news clippings and other separate articles to read and study. Looking over at the man as he finished washing the dishes, Harry finally asked the question that he'd been dying to know since the previous day. "You said you were going to explain to me why you needed my help."
"Yes, I did," Darius nodded as he looked over at the boy, setting down what he'd been reading. "Tell me, Harry, have you read a lot of the international news recently?"
"I try not to," Harry said quietly, looking away in disgust at the potent memories of all the recent Daily Prophet articles. Feeling Darius' questioning gaze on him, Harry hastily elaborated, "The Minister has had the wizarding newspapers condemning me as a liar, attention-seeker, and a psychopath for the past year because he doesn't want to believe that Voldemort's returned… I tend to get very angry when I read that stuff lately."
"I see," Darius muttered. "Have you at least paid attention to what's been happening with the dragons before they finally broke loose?"
Harry shook his head as he looked at the man imploringly. "Why? What's been happening? Has it been going on for a while now?"
The man let out a wary sigh. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a schoolboy wouldn't pay attention to news that isn't immediately important to his everyday life."
"What do—?"
"How familiar are you with the Mundanes' side of life?" Darius interrupted.
"Eh…Mundanes, sir?" Harry asked uncertainly.
"Mundanes are what we 'Yanks' call non-magical people," Darius clarified. "We find the terms 'Mudblood' and 'Muggle' to be extremely offensive, especially since most of us aren't like the inbred Purebloods that control the majority of European society…No offense, Potter."
"None taken," Harry said lamely as he processed what the black man had just told him. "Um…I was raised with my Aunt and Uncle until I got my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven. So I guess I'm fairly familiar with Mug… eh, Mundanes."
"Have you heard of the Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy that's started spreading throughout England's cow livestock about ten years ago?" Darius asked, glancing at Harry. Spotting the blank look of incomprehension on Harry's face, Darius added, "It's commonly called the 'Mad Cow's Disease' nowadays."
"Oh…" Harry muttered, still kind of confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You really don't know how the world works, do you?" Darius muttered to himself, in an almost pitying tone. "It has everything to do with what's been happening recently. You see, despite our magic, Wizards would still have to breed and raise livestock just as the Mundanes do. However, because there're so many more Mundanes than Wizards, many Wizarding communities tend to just purchase their food from the Mundanes rather than having to do all the extra work of butchering and processing the meat and produce themselves."
"That kind of makes sense," Harry muttered to himself.
"Yes," Darius agreed. "However, because of the scorn that most Wizards feel towards Mundanes, even in America unfortunately, we tend to try to ignore most things that Mundanes do if they don't have anything to do with us or if it isn't immediately important. So when the cattle started getting sick with a strange new disease that scientists still haven't found a cure for, the Mundanes had to find a way to dispose of the contaminated meat and animals before they were processed and eaten by people. Because we Wizards don't pay attention to the Mundanes all that much, many Wizarding merchants considered themselves lucky to suddenly be able to purchase nearly fifty percent more cattle for nearly half the usual price."
"But if we've been eating infected beef…" Harry couldn't even find it in himself to finish his sentence in horror at the thought.
"Don't worry, Harry," Darius said in a surprisingly soothing tone. "For most countries, they usually use their Mundane-purchased cattle to feed their hordes of Magical Creatures, like dragons and other wildlife, to keep them better contained in their preserves. And that is why we are here today."
"You mean because the dragons were eating infected cows, they got sick themselves?" Harry asked, finally seeing where this was going.
"That's what my father and I believe, yes," Darius answered, gazing down towards the news clippings that were resting on the table before him.
"You don't know for certain?"
"My father was a dragon researcher by profession," Darius said. "When the dragons first started acting differently, he was one of the first to notice. He studied the strange behavior, their environment, and their diets very closely. As far as he was able to determine, the Mad Cow's Disease was the only explanation for what was happening to them. However, none of his fellow researchers agreed with his theories."
"Why?" Harry asked. "It seems fairly obvious to me."
"But the problem with that theory is that the original cow disease has very different symptoms to what the dragons are showing," Darius explained. "See, the original disease is something that attacks the brain and nervous system. It can lead to dementia, personality changes, jerky movements, loss of balance and coordination. Most victims will die of pneumonia because of impaired coughing muscles."
"Eh…" That was all Harry could really say to that. That sounded gross…and painful.
"It's an awful way to die, I assure you," Darius said. "But that's not what's going on with the dragons. The specimens my father studied all had an extremely high increase in muscle growth, aggression, their reproductive cycles, and they'd usually become extremely protective of their respective territories, mates, and offspring… That's how my father died. He got too close to the dragon he was studying."
"I'm sorry, sir," Harry was silent for a moment as he thought over everything that he had just heard. "Do you think that the dragons that'd eaten the cows with the disease might've caused it to…change…or evolve into something different?"
"That's my theory," Darius said. "It wouldn't be the first time a common disease changed after it came into contact with a magical creature. That's how Dragon Pox came to be what it is today… And dragons are highly magical and extremely powerful creatures."
"So…why do you need my help with this?" Harry asked.
Glancing over at the boy from the corner of his eye, Darius said, "Because you are a very highly influential figure in the Wizarding Community, regardless of whatever lies or deceptions people are trying to spread about you. When you talk, people will listen. When you move, people will watch you. When you laugh, cry, or turn your back, people will notice. I need you to tell people about my father's theories, make them aware of it, and get them to consider them. It's only after people start understanding the cause of this disease that we can start doing something about it that'll actually work."'
"But I'm an Undesirable…an outlaw now," Harry said quietly, trying to rein in his rising temper at what sounded like something Rita Skeeter had once told him. "I can't help you, even though I really want to. I'd just be thrown into Azkaban or handed over to Voldemort."
"You're right," Darius admitted. "Right now, you're powerless. But don't forget; with politics, the situation is always…fluid. It's always moving and changing. What you're guilty of right now, you might not be guilty of tomorrow or next week. But what we're dealing with isn't politics."
"So…what are you going to do with me in the meantime?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to keep you on the move and safe," Darius answered immediately. "But don't misunderstand, Harry. This isn't a picnic we're on. I will keep you safe and hidden, but this isn't a free ride you're on. Aside from helping me with the disease, you have to earn your keep while you're with me."
"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked guardedly. He knew being asked for favors from near-total strangers was a very bad idea, almost as bad as running off with strangers! But then, he'd already bumbled that rule too.
"You are going to help me keep this thing—" he gestured around them, clearly indicating the motorhome. "clean and livable. You're not going to leave here without a disguise, even if all you want to do is step outside. And you're going to continue your education."
"But I can't!" Harry said instantly, sitting up straighter. "The Ministry has a Trace on me that—"
"Was destroyed with the Ministry's collapse," Darius interrupted, silencing Harry immediately. After staring at Harry's disbelieving gaze, Darius quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "Did someone tell you not to use magic despite the Ministry being destroyed?"
"How…How do you know all this?" Harry asked quietly, feeling both hopeful that he might be able to use magic and rising anger at Professor Dumbledore for apparently lying to him. And after being ignored by the man all year long, Harry's anger towards him felt much more potent that it probably should've been. "Professor Dumbledore said…"
"There are many things that I know, Harry," Darius said, looking away from the boy with an expression that Harry had seen many times on himself. It was an expression of a man who was carrying a great burden on his shoulders and yet couldn't share it with anyone, for whatever reason. It was an expression that strangely caused Harry's simmering anger to soften and dissipate by the time the man turned his attention back to Harry. "And one thing that I know for certain is that when your Ministry had been destroyed, a great many things were either disrupted or otherwise destroyed beyond all repair."
"You're talking about all that chaos that's been happening lately because the collapse, aren't you?" Harry asked, feeling as though he were suddenly about to have an epiphany but hadn't yet grasped the concept.
"Yes," Darius agreed. "For example, the Floo system that you Europeans have depended on so heavily, such things are usually heavily integrated and regulated through the government for a variety of reasons. That makes the building it was stationed into as the heart of the system. And what happens when you kill the heart of a creature?" Harry's eyes suddenly widened as realization hit him of what Darius was saying. "And the Trace is just one of many things that were lost or destroyed with the Ministry's destruction."
"That means I can use magic if I want to now," Harry said to himself, slightly in amazed relief.
"And that is why I want you to continue practicing and reading what you can," Darius continued. "We don't know how long you'll be on the run. It could be a few days or even a few years. Do you still have any of your school stuff with you?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered quickly, returning his attention back onto the man. "Headmaster Dumbledore was able to bring me all of my school supplies and was even able to get me some of my next year textbooks."
"Good," Darius nodded in obvious relief. "I'm going to head up to Hogsmeade in a little bit. I want to know if there have been any new developments recently. You stay here and study. I don't care if you go outside, but don't forget to put on a disguise of some kind."
Harry could only nod his head at that. Turning, he walked almost numbly back to his chosen room. He had a lot to think about right now.
(Author's Note) Sorry about the long wait. I just haven't had the time or drive until recently to really do any serious writing. Plus, for some strange reason, my interest in this story returned with a bang. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. I wonder how many of you can catch the minor quote that I added into this story.
FYI:
Bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE), commonly known as mad-cow disease is a fatal, neurodegenerative disease in cattle that causes a spongy degeneration in the brain and spinal cord. BSE has a long incubation period, about 4 years, usually affecting adult cattle at a peak age onset of four to five years, all breeds being equally susceptible. And there have been cases where humans caught the disease as well.
PS: For you Naruto fans, I've recently started writing a new story. It's called 'The Scroll'. I'm writing it as a new form of rebelllion against those who think I should stop my hobby of fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy that story and that it lives up to the high bar my Legacy series seems to have created for me to reach and surpass.