"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you, as soon as possible."
Professor McGonagall had walked up to Harry just as he was swallowing the last piece of steak and kidney pie. Message delivered, she turned on her heel and left, leaving Harry almost dumbstruck at the abruptness of her message.
"That'd be my cue to head out," he said as he stood up, Rose following closely behind. Harry glared at her as she mimicked his movements almost perfectly.
"What?" she asked innocently, "Can't we finish at the same time? I need to finish my History of Magic essay that's due tomorrow." Harry just rolled his eyes, glad he wasn't the one taking History of Magic; he had heard nothing but horror stories from that class. The teacher was a ghost who was obsessed with the goblin rebellions, and that was all his class was taught about.
Daphne came walking up to him. "So I just saw Draco Malfoy skulking around the last few weeks."
"Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, confused. He didn't remember the name but assumed that he was Lucius Malfoy's son.
"You remember the blonde ponce who accosted us on the train to Hogwarts?" she asked, grinning.
Harry snapped his fingers remembering. "The kid who tried to get you to go back to the Slytherin compartment with you? The one you tricked into thinking I was the heir to a whiskey magnate?"
"The one and the same," Daphne said. "Anyway, so he's been skulking around."
"And how does this affect me?"
"Because I overheard him talking to his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, about how their master was developing a brand new weapon to hunt down and kill Dumbledore. If I had to guess, I'd say the plan is to hit Hogwarts and try to kill Dumbledore here, and if they kill you, that's just icing on the cake."
"Hold up," Harry said, pulling up to a stop, "that's a rather large jump from a new weapon to kill Dumbledore to automatically assuming he's going to kill Dumbledore in the halls here at Hogwarts, especially while anyone was here if I were Voldemort. I'd wait until summer at least, let's not jump to conclusions."
Daphne and Rose exchanged a look. "Voldemort claims to not want pureblood blood spilt but he seems rather callous about the idea. During my first year, he possessed Ginny and made her release a basilisk onto the student population." Rose said.
"Yeah, and my fourth year, Rose's third, he kidnapped a student, a boy named Cedric Diggory right from under Dumbledore's nose, but the way he did it, he made it clear that he didn't care about who he took." Daphne continued. "And I think this wasn't even the first time there was an attack on Dumbledore's life, apparently someone used the Imperius Curse to force Katie Bell to deliver a cursed necklace. It only failed because she accidentally brushed it with her fingertip right before Christmas."
"Hold on, a basilisk?" Harry asked, "What's that?"
"A Basilisk is a class XXXXX creature that can kill anyone who looks it in the eye. My brother Charlie is only marginally less obsessed with them than dragons." Ron said, interjecting himself into the conversation, "And their venom is extremely toxic. The ICW has classified them as weapons of mass destruction."
"What happened to it? The basilisk, I mean."
Ron shrugged noncommittally, "I dunno, the teachers said they had it handled, and my brother Charlie came down with a bunch of dragon handlers."
"It's true." Daphne agreed "Three years ago the price of basilisk venom here in the UK dropped from ludicrously expensive to merely expensive."
"But why Harry?" Rose asked, thinking back to what Daphne said. "As far as anyone is aware Harry Getthen is a rich magnate with a mysterious past, not really a threat."
"I don't know, I just know that Draco dislikes Harry, and if we assume, rightly or wrongly that that has meandered its way up the grapevine add to that the fact that Harry hasn't been silent regarding his plans to start a wizarding arms manufactory, and I have to think that there's plenty of animus for disliking this new rich upstart, even if he's not a member of the peerage," Daphne said spitballing various ideas. "We know Draco has no compunctions about embellishing the truth to suit his own needs,"
Both Rose and Ron nodded their heads in vigorous agreement. "And besides, you haven't exactly been subtle about throwing ludicrous sums of money around, and given your 'guardians,' it wouldn't be hard to ascertain your political leanings," Daphne said. "And besides I saw you at the ball chatting up Lucius. You're not nearly as subtle as you think you are."
"Ok," he said, his mind spinning in a dozen different directions. "Do you know what this weapon is?"
"Not a clue," Daphne admitted, "But I can figure it out," she added.
"I- I hate to be the one to bring this up," Ron said his face colouring, almost matching his hair. "But is it possible it could be a mech? Just think about it, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that Voldemort isn't trying to create his own version after what happened both at the Hedbrian Mansion as well as the Department of Mysteries."
Harry nodded in agreement. Once he had gotten comfortable with his - friends? Acquaintances? He still struggled to find the right word for them - he had told them the whole story of his reappearance in England through the Veil of Death and subsequent storming of Lord Voldemort's home base. Daphne had confirmed it.
"No, it won't be a mech. Only Ollivander and I know how to create the core, and frankly, the core is far and away the most important part." Harry said confidently. It was true that the creation of the core was a highly guarded secret.
"Be that as it may, it wouldn't surprise me to find that he found a way through. He's definitely motivated to try," Ron said just before they went their separate ways.
"Looks like that's another thing to add to my discussion with Dumbledore," Harry said tiredly, already dreading the upcoming conversation. "See you tonight for a midnight snack?" he asked Daphne hopefully, pulling her close to him where he looked down at her, her red lips glistening in the fading sunlight.
"We'll see," she said flirtatiously, moving off towards her common room. She stopped to blow him a kiss before disappearing into the dungeons of the castle.
Harry had been having monthly meetings with Dumbledore, ever since he had come to Hogwarts, their discussions were, at the very least, usually interesting, with Dumbledore trying to impart all of his not-insignificant knowledge about the Dark Lord into these meetings.
Harry was slowly beginning to paint a picture of the man who became Lord Voldemort. At first, he was confused as to the reasoning behind these little meetings, but as they talked more and more, he came to understand exactly how much Hogwarts influenced a young Tom Riddle - a young boy who had delusions of grandeur about his place in the world, and whose delusions only grew as his ego was stoked with age.
Hogwarts was not the only school in Great Britain, but it was where all of the most powerful witches and wizards went, and due in no small part to the relative size of the magical world, Hogwarts became the de facto breeding ground of British magical elites. Tom, coming from an orphanage, where he was rescued from relative obscurity to attend the most prestigious magical school in Britain? And not only that but to know that he was a direct descendant of one of the founders? It wasn't hard to figure out his genealogy on his mother's side; the Gaunts were well-known as direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. There was a certain amount of prestige that was simply inherent in such a position.
Apparently, he was quite charismatic as a young man as well. His records of Hogwarts showed an extremely smart and driven individual. Multiple rewards for academics, as well as the titles of prefect and Head Boy, littered his academic resume. Able to manipulate people into thinking they were friends he was able to obtain, tutoring in all sorts of magical disciplines. Once he graduated, he was able to form less of a cadre of friends and much closer to a gaggle of followers, originally named the Knights of Walpurgis. It wasn't until the beginning of the First Wizarding War, back in the 1970s, did they change their name to the much more recognizable Death Eaters.
"Lemon drops," Harry said to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office. It sprung to life and jumped aside, revealing a spiral staircase that moved magically upwards at a sedate pace.
He smiled internally at the consistent use of sweets always employed by the headmaster as his password. His personal favourite had been Cockroach Clusters, where with some innocuous inquiries he was able to ascertain that they were a rather strange sweet eaten by only a few especially adventurous candy aficionados. Dumbledore had been quite insistent on their delicacy. It was one of the many disagreements they hm as Harry even refused to sample them.
A large oaken door barred the entrance into the inner sanctum of Dumbledore's private office. Harry was just about to knock when the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord. Dumbledore was sitting behind his large oak desk, hid half moon spectacles perched precariously on the edge of his. Looking like they would come off with the slightest movement.
"Hello Fawkes," he said as he spotted the bird sitting regally on his perch behind Dumbledore's chair.
Fawkes trilled happily at seeing him enter. The fiery red plumage perking up in excitement as he preened under Harry's attention.
"You'll have to excuse my friend," Dumbledore said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, as he shut the tome he was working on, "He can be a bit of a drama king sometimes."
"I see Minerva got my message to you.," Dumbledore said with a smile "I thought today would be a good day to discuss the first defeat of Lord Voldemort."
They had been going chronologically through the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and last month had spent a significant amount of time dealing with his time in Albania. While he understood intellectually that he was at least partly responsible for the defeat of Lord Voldemort, it was an abstraction, having been a baby at the time of the defeat. Dumbledore levitated the Pensieve out of the cupboard where it sat, gently guiding it to the surface of the desk.
"This first memory comes from your father," Dumbledore said conversationally, dumping the vial of memories into the Pensieve. The memories slowly melded together with the solution, a fuzzy picture slowly coming into focus, as though it were underwater.
"Ready?" Dumbledore asked, face poised over the bowl. Harry stood much more sedately, not feeling the urge to look the fool. With barely a look back, Dumbledore plunged his head into the bowl, looking ridiculous; Harry just placed his hand into the liquid.
He found himself standing in an unfamiliar room. Lily sat on the couch crocheting some kind of blanket; James paced, his long legs taking him across the small living room in three quick strides.
"Why are we in hiding?" he was asking, his brow creased in discomfort. "We should be out fighting. Kingsley almost got killed today because his team was short-handed."
"I know, honey," Lily said, not taking her eyes off of her blanket, obviously trying to keep her own anger in check. "But Dumbledore said we had to stay hidden to protect Harry." Harry could hear the angry clicking as the knitting needles slammed together with more force than was absolutely necessary. James was about to respond when there was a knock on the door. James sprinted to the door, yanking it open.
Sirius Black half-collapsed by the door, trying to catch his breath. Soon enough he stood up, looking worse than Harry had ever seen the man. Normally he gave off the airs of an aristocrat who hadn't done a day's work in his life. But this younger version reminded him of himself after a battle, barely conscious, eyes darting quickly, as if he couldn't believe it was over and an enemy could hop out and ambush jim at any second.
"What is it?" James asked, worry painted across his face. His foot bouncing to some unknown rhythm that only he could hear, waiting for his friend to catch his breath, as Lily poured a viscous potion down the other man's throat. Watching in amazement Harry was amazed as the various cuts and bruises closed before his eyes.
"Bones Manor was attacked," Sirius said finally, his voice rough. Looking closely Harry could see that Sirius was still favouring his left leg, a gash, running from the bottom of his shin and disappearing up his robe. "It's bad, James, it's really bad. They're planning on activating the first-tier alliance. I convinced them to hold off so I could warn you."
James' face went pale. Lily was already up, pulling on her jacket. James shook himself like a large dog, trying to rid himself of some mental cobwebs before following Sirius Black. Lily paused for a moment as if contemplating something before nodding her head decisively.
"Nipsy!" She called as a house elf that Harry immediately recognized as the Potter house elf popped right into the living room. "James and I are being called to the aid of our allies, it is incumbent upon you to protect this house with your life." Her tone was remarkably ritualistic.
His theory was proven correct moments later when Nipsy bowed her head in subservience, allowing her head to touch the ground. Various runes were carved into the floor and walls of this house, glowing gold for a split second before sinking back into the house. Moments later Lily and James left. The memory ended as Harry and Dumbledore were sucked back up through the roof as the room below them dissolved into mist.
"That was the last time you were seen alive, until last Halloween," Dumbledore said. "Although I will admit, I was always a little sceptical of the deaths, given the lack of bodies. I personally never count anyone as dead, unless I see a body."
"A few questions." Harry began slowly, trying to order his thoughts. "Why me? Why did he come after me? It makes no sense, I was a nobody, so what did an almost sixty-year-old man do with me, a one-year-old baby?"
"There was a prophecy that was made, of which you were the subject. That was overheard, at least a part of it, by a member of his inner circle."
"And what exactly were the words of the prophecy?" he asked, feigning indifference. He always found prophecies to be janky at the best of times.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" Dumbledore recited from memory.
Harry could immediately spot a multitude of problems with the prophecy. The whole deal of being born as the seventh month dies? Harry was born at the end of July, the seventh month according to the Gregorian calendar, but what about the Julian calendar? Or the Jewish calendar? Lunar calendars? There were too many variables to be sure of anything
"What do you think about the prophecy?" Harry asked, cooly, affecting a devil-may-care type attitude.
"Honestly? I find prophecies like this to be self-fulfilling," Dumbledore said nonchalantly. "Voldemort overheard the part of someone being marked as his equal, and so concluded that it was either you or young Mr Longbottom who were the subjects of the prophecy, given the 'colloquial' understanding of the prophecy, and through his actions marked you. And incidentally gave you the power he knows not." Dumbledore smiled wryly, and Harry found himself nodding in agreement. He knew how this was going to end; he'd known it ever since he stepped out of the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries and killed those Death Eaters, prophecy be damned.
"What is activating the tier one?'"
"I suppose a bit of history is in order. Before the Wizengamot became the formal ruling body in Britain in 1544, most families were independent actors. Heads of families found themselves with often as much power as a count, for there were many fewer witches and wizards back then than there are now. Wizards would often conjoin under a powerful wizard. Those powerful witches and wizards would often band together through alliances and trade deals." Almost without warning, there was a sharp whistle as the tea kettle reached the desired temperature.
"Tea?" he asked, levitating the kettle off the fire roaring in the grate.
"No thanks."
Dumbledore shrugged as he poured milk into his tea. Taking a sip, he settled back into his seat, getting comfortable. "Most alliances are simple contracts, very little, if any magic involved, but tier one alliances, on the other hand, require a ritual that affects not only the participants of the rituals but also the family of said participants. Activating a tier one alliance would call the participants to the aid of the requestor, but for a steep price."
"What's the advantage of such an alliance?"
"There are many advantages to such an alliance; it's only when you get to such high-level alliances do people begin sharing their family magic," Dumbledore said.
"James said there was no such thing as family magic, that any witch or wizard could learn any type of magic, assuming there was no power problem."
"While that is technically true, many families have secrets, spells they have discovered, or ways of enchanting things that they want to keep hidden, that is what they meant when they say family magics," Dumbledore said by way of explanation. He set his tea cup and saucer down on the corner of his desk.
"Why did James look worried that the Bones family was going to activate the ritual?" Harry asked, trying to move the discussion forward.
"Because your family was hidden behind very powerful enchantments and wards, your parents would not have felt the pull to help. And this is where the danger of tier-one alliances comes in. If the help doesn't arrive, there is a horrible price called down on the heads of those that broke the alliance." Dumbledore said.
"What is the cost for officially activating a tier one Alliance?"
"Nominally, a large amount of magic upfront. Usually, it has to be done in the heart of the home, right at the control point of the wards, thereby granting those that show up permanent inclusion into the wards in question."
"And breaking one?
"It varies from alliance to alliance, depending upon the terms of the alliance, the most well-known tier one alliance was between the Calder and Rook families, During the Hundred Years War, when Richard Calder called upon his brother-in-law Baron Bruce Rook, officially activating the tier one alliance, the baron refused, having given loyalty to the King of France in return for a title. Rook was found the next night, dead, having had all of his blood syphoned out of his body.
"Assuming that the baron knew that he had a tier one alliance with his brother-in-law, why did he attack British soil?"
"First, he never attacked Calder directly; second, according to all accounts the French Malfoys promised that they would protect him, swearing they found a way around the restrictions of the first-tier alliance. It was that combined with the structuring of the Wizengamot and a unified whole rather than desperate houses vying for control brought the popularity of those alliances down." Dumbledore continued,
"So then why were James and Lily still bound if the idea of tier-one alliances were so out of favour?"
"Potter and Bones enjoyed the benefits of the alliance. They did however break off the alliance after that disastrous night, James and Lily realised how dangerous it was to keep such an alliance alive, so they renegotiated down to a tier two, where each family could keep the benefits they had previously received, but would henceforth not be magically bound to come to one another's aid."
Harry nodded in understanding. The tier one alliance was essentially a marriage between two families, where magic was the arbiter of justice. Internally he shuddered, he had seen similar things in his world, and it was his personal philosophy to stay out of magically binding contracts if at all possible.
"What about the ritual, or at least I'm assuming it is a ritual that Lily did?" Harry asked, "I only recognized a few of those runes."
"It was a special shielding ritual, your mother knew you and your sister needed to be kept safe, so she made a deal with Nipsy, she would officially bind herself to the Potter bloodline for as long as she should live, and in return, she would receive a portion of the Potter family magic."
"What did it do exactly, though? Why bind a house elf? It seems like you're playing with fire if you do something like that." In all of his research into house elves they worked best as an unofficial relationship, it was commonly accepted that house elves were as dangerous as they were useful. The practice of binding house elves to family lines fell out of practice after it came to light how malevolent they could be if given enough reason to. Now it was much more common to 'pay' them in scraps and sweet treats, allowing them to leave if they so desired. Most house-elves liked a family and would become another "member" of the family, but not an acknowledged member.
Dumbledore took another long sip of his tea, appraising him silently. "You're right, of course, but Nipsy bound herself to the Potter line of her own free will, fully understanding all the risks. To continue your metaphor; fire is extremely useful given the right situations. Also let us not forget that it was an equal exchange, human magic freely given is extremely potent for house elves." Dumbledore stood.
"One last thing Professor," Harry said standing to join the aged professor.
"Yes, Harry?" he asked, turning to look at the young man.
"I have it on good authority that Voldemort plans to attack Hogwarts soon."
"Is that so?" Dumbledore seemed unconcerned. "Why do you believe he would attack now, given the fact that he hasn't done so before?"
Harry took a deep breath and looked Dumbledore right in the eyes. "Because I'm here".
"Oh really?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow upwards. "Please enlighten me, Mr Getthen, what makes you so special?"
"Harry Getthen is a power in his own right," he said, "not necessarily because of who I am, but rather as what I represent. Ron Weasley, pointed out, rightfully I think that I have not been the most discreet about my desire to start an arms manufacturer and as such, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Voldemort will try to kill two birds with one stone. It would not be in the least bit surprising to me if even now Voldemort were working on a prototype mech."
Dumbledore's shoulders slumped, looking defeated. "I fear you might be right," he said with sadness filling his eyes. "What do you need from me?" He straightened his shoulders, taking strength from some previously unknown source.
"Only permission to take a select group of my friends to Diagon Alley to get fitted for mechs tomorrow, so that we're protected in case of the worst-case scenario."
The elderly headmaster looked conflicted before he nodded resignedly, "Granted."