Alfred Thurkell was a businessman with a unique history. For years his noble and pure family had taken the brunt of jokes and scorn in the pureblood community. One of his ancestors was famous for giving birth to seven shameful squibs. As the legend went, his many times great uncle was so upset by this predicament, that he transfigured the seven sons into hedgehogs, so that he may punish them as the disgusting creatures that they were. Even though it had been four hundred years and countless generations since the event, the tainted memory still plagued the family. Other pureblood families of higher stature had avoided mixing with the Thurkell family and as a result, the marriage contracts and business opportunities had dried up considerably over the past centuries.
Alfred was a Slytherin through and through, and he remembered the names of his classmates that had scorned him in Hogwarts. Being a pureblood himself, he knew that some of the more insular pureblood families had difficulty producing viable heirs that were not squibs. In his seventh year, he came up with a genius business plan to restore the Thurkell family fortune that had dwindled in recent years. As a bonus, it directly targeted some of those classmates that refused to even acknowledge his presence. Fifteen years later, he had a successful business in KwikSpell, that took the gold right out of those snobbish purebloods' hands and into his pocket. Every squib in a pureblood family was a mark of shame according to the famous 'Pure-Blood Directory' that Cantankerus Nott wrote. Simply put, these so-called most pure, or Sacred Twenty-Eight, families, would pay almost any amount to try and 'cure' a squib. Alfred simply took advantage of that desire. If he was completely honest, KiwkSpell was a complete sham and had never once given a single squib magic back, but it did add significant amounts of gold to his family's vault.
He'd recently been contacted by Augustus Rookwood, who was a frequent client of his. Rookwood has produced three different squibs in the past, and as the last in his line, was despite to produce a viable heir. Alfred entered the pub where he was set to meet the desperate man, and looked around at the drab, smokey atmosphere. Normally Alfred was summoned to a manor, where the negotiations began, but it was not unheard of for a Lord to demand to meet away from a manor, particularly if a child was born out of wedlock. Alfred assumed that this was the case with Augustus Rookwood, and had eagerly agreed to meet the man so that he might get another large payday. Many of the purebloods paid extra for discretion, which in turn only helped Alfred more, as he 'was never able to reveal past successes'. This let him keep up his charade far longer than he could have ever dreamed was possible.
Alred turned the corner in the back of the pub to go to the backroom that had been reserved for the encounter. Dimly lit wooden panels lined a small walkway with a few doors leading to private rooms. He swiftly walked to the second door on the right and tapped his wand twice before entering. Two men were seated behind a table. Alfred tightened his grip on his wand as this was highly irregular.
Augustus Rookwood stood up from behind the table where he was seated. "Ah, Mr. Thurkell, as expected."
With a furtive glance at the hooded figure, Alfred responded, " Lord Rookwood." he bowed his head slightly to acknowledge the Lord's rank amongst the elite. "Might I inquire as to the identity of our friend here? I was expecting this to be a solo meeting." His tone was polite, but his grip on his wand had not loosened in the slightest.
An almost snakelike hiss came from under the hood of the mysterious figure. Dread filled Alfred instantly. "You will find yourself unable to defend yourself against me if I chose to attack you."
"Kneel before the Dark Lord!" Demanded Rookwood.
Alfred instantly sank to the floor onto his knees. He dared not look up from the worn boards that form the well-used floor of the pub's private room. He was not a Death Eater, so the Dark Lord coming to visit him was not a good sign. His only choice was to hope for the best.
Voldemort stood up and removed his hood, before slowly taking a step towards Alfred. "Look up at me Mr. Thurkell. Fear not, you will not die on this day." Alfred let out the breath he was holding and shakily raised his head to look at the Dark Lord's face. Voldemort continued, "I do so enjoy watching the fight leave a person at the mere mention of my name. I am not here for your life, merely your knowledge."
Alfred nodded slowly, "Of course. Ask me anything I will provide you anything within my power."
The Dark Lord merely smirked before laughing, "Oh no, you misunderstand. I will not be asking any questions. I am here to merely take the information! Legilimens!" Alfred World dissolved into a sharp pain as his memories flashed quickly in his mind. He had no idea how long it went on, but eventually, he slumped onto the floor unconscious.
Harry Potter's feet kept up a steady pace of dropping in a rhythm on the pavement, never letting himself falter or he'd think of quitting. The mere thought of quitting made him pick up his pace. Harry had been running for three days, every morning, rain, or sunshine. Harry's mind was not particularly focused on the running, however. Today was the day he was supposed to leave the Dursleys forever. A letter from Dumbledore had promised that today would be the day for which he dreamed as a child.
Rounding the corner of Privet Drive, Harry put on a burst of speed, determined to sprint to the finish, to get that one last kick of exercise. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the wind buffering against his face, as he ran down the footpath. Success! He'd made it back to the Dursley's house for the second time in a row without walking a single step on his run. Collapsing onto the front lawn, Harry gazed up at the sky. Fiery and hot was all he could think of, about the sky. He preferred the rain to this heat any day. His ragged breath heaved, as he gasped, his body trying to catch up and give the oxygen he needed.
"Freak get inside! I will not tolerate your weirdness on display to the neighbors! What would they think with you lying there like that?" came Harry's Aunt's shrill half whisper half shriek. It was remarkable how she could manage to sound like she was both whispering and yelling at the same time.
Not wanting a fight, Harry muttered, " Yes Aunt Petunia."
"You stink! Don't they teach you freaks to shower?" Harry didn't want to point out that Dudley always smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks, so he kept his mouth shut. "Take a shower boy! I don't want your stink messing up my house!" He nodded mutely as he stood up from the freshly cut grass on the lawn.
"...Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry sighed. Shifting past his aunt, Harry made his way to take a shower. Grabbing a set of ragged clothes and a towel from the broken wardrobe, Harry slipped into the washroom. Leaving the shower cold, Harry let the water rush over his body. He didn't like the heat, as he preferred the chill of cold water or a nice breeze. For the briefest of moments, he reveled in the feeling of the water surrounding him, cooling him down from his late morning run. The water was nice, but the cool left from the water felt even better.
The shrill voice of his aunt followed a loud rap on the door, "It costs money to run showers boy. Get out of there. You've got chores to do!" Harry sighed and turned off the water, as he was brought back to reality by his aunt.
After getting out of the shower and toweling off, Harry inspected some of the scars of his childhood, Harry once again swore to never be weak again. He knew his childhood hadn't been easy, but it wasn't the emotional or physical abuse that bothered him about it. It was his memories of pure terror and helplessness. The fact that it was at the hands of his "family" had little effect on him. He had never once growing up considered himself part of the Dursleys. Granted they had made sure he never felt welcome, but he was sure he never felt or considered himself part of their collective.
After depositing his towel back into his room, Harry made his way down to the kitchen, where his aunt would presumably have a list of chores for him to complete should he want dinner. Having not told his aunt about his upcoming departure, Harry vindictively smiled knowing full well he'd not be completing a single chore today. As he descended the stairs towards the front door, Harry noticed an older man approaching the house. Harry broke into a broad smile, not due to the completely ridiculous, overly out-of-fashion suit from the seventies the man was wearing, but rather due to the man himself. Albus Dumbledore. He was adorned head to toe in a bright yellow suit with bell-bottom flared trousers. Harry swung the door open and simply smiled at the man. His rescue had come finally.
"BOY! Close that door, we have to pay for air conditioning. If the bill is too high, You'll get no food for a week," came the yell of his aunt as she rounded the corner of the sitting room, stalking into the foyer.
Harry glanced out on the stoop and momentarily saw the eyes of the aged headmaster dim for a brief moment before once again lighting up with joy. Before Harry could speak, the headmaster interjected, "I'm afraid that while I am a male, I've not been a boy for quite some time."
Harry smiled softly before giving his headmaster a lopsided grin before conspiratorially whispering, "Nonsense sir. You don't look a day over fifteen." Harry held the door open for the headmaster to come into the house. His aunt seemed to be frozen in shock, fear, and a small amount of embarrassment.
"Ahh. I'm afraid that's just the suit, Mr. Potter. Met a young man in Italy a few decades back, who made this set of muggle wear for me. I personally love the colour. It makes this old man feel like a child once again," came the jovial voice of Dumbledore. Harry's smile broadened wider than he thought was possible.
Gently shutting the door behind the headmaster, Harry heard the shrill screech of his aunt finally processing the situation. "What's he doing here!?" Harry sighed at the demanding tone, having expected nothing less. "It's only polite to tell us when you are expecting company," she corrected once she saw the disapproving glare levied her way by the elderly man next to Harry.
"Ahh the fault is mine, I'm afraid Mrs. Dursley. You see in my advanced age, it slipped my mind to tell Harry I was coming today." Harry saw the quick wink, the headmaster shot his way and was once again reminded of the joyous and infectious personality the man had about him. It was almost impossible to be sour with him, as he had a particularly disarming charm about him.
"Yes, well," muttered his aunt, "Can I offer you some tea?" as she directed the pair into the sitting room of the house.
"The sounds lovely," came the gentle reply of the headmaster as he bowed his head in thanks, before easing himself into the sofa. He bounced one before sighing contentedly. "These have become quite comfortable over the years. Just the other day I was suggesting to Minerva that we make the benches in the Great Hall much more comfortable. Strangely she seemed to think that children would ruin them with food," he finished with a slight smile.
"Might I inquire as to the nature of your visit today, Mr. Dumbledore?" Petunia hovered above the pair having dawned an apron. Harry mentally snickered at the thought that an apron would help her with tea.
"I've come to collect young Harry and to provide you with a warning," came the simple answer from the headmaster as he folded his hands neutrally in his lap.
"A warning sir?" inquired Harry tilting his head to look towards the man.
"Indeed, for your family. In a few weeks' time, the wards protecting this house will fall," said Dumbledore. Turning towards Petunia he spoke once again, "I would strongly urge you to consider relocating before then."
"You can't just up and come here and tell us to move," cried Petunia. "This is our home. This is where we built our family. You can't just tell us to leave. It's not ... proper." She sniffed in dismissal.
"Given your tone towards Mr. Potter during my arrival, I'll withhold my opinions of proper, as they are not met here." Harry's eyes widened at the terse response the headmaster gave to his aunt. She seemed to have been stunned into a stupor. Her behavior had not been missed, and Harry was sure that the pair would discuss it later. "That's that settled," spoke Dumbledore. "Why don't you run along and get your trunk? We shall be departing in just a few moments."
Harry didn't have to be told twice and quickly hopped up from the sofa and went upstairs to get his trunk. He expertly navigated the stairs, unconsciously avoiding the fourth and sixth steps, as they were known to squeak when he stepped on them in the past. It had long been a habit of Harry's to make as little noise as possible, in an attempt to avoid punishment from his Uncle. An unfortunate incident when he was a child involving a squeak on the step and his belligerently drunk uncle, had set in his mind to avoid making a sound when possible.
As Harry collected his trunk and Hedwig's cage, he gave one last look around the room he had been given after getting into Hogwarts. After glancing at Dudley's old toys on the shelves, the broken mattress, an uneven desk, and the door with all of the looks, he decided that there was something definitely not normal about the Dursleys. Given how much they strove to fit into the neighborhood in order to be normal, it struck him as odd that they seemed so willing to accept this type of behavior as normal. With one final shrug, Harry turned and descended the stairs to a waiting Professor Dumbledore.
"Everything in order?" he spoke with a gentle smile. Harry felt a surge of thankfulness that the professor was going out of his way to retrieve him early. It would have been simple for the man to simply wait for the halfway part of the summer, and disregard Harry's plea, but instead, here he was spending his limited free time collecting him and saving him from the Dursleys.
With a bright smile, Harry replied, "Of course sir." Harry placed his trunk down next to the sofa, on the side closest to the front door. He knew he was ready to leave the Dursleys forever. A weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
"Excellent. We have one task to look into before we get to our final destination, but before we go, we must discuss one crucial element of our plan," said Dumbledore trailing off as he flicked his wand casting a strong privacy charm.
"What's that?" asked Harry as he wearily sat back down on the sofa across from the headmaster.
"Where we are going my dear boy," answered Dumbledore with a touch of humor in his voice. Harry could see a quick smile flash across his face, as he flushed slightly in embarrassment. If the headmaster saw anything, he didn't mention it as he continued, "In the interest of keeping you in the proverbial loop, there are a few ways we can go about keeping you safe this summer, and ultimately I wish for you to make the decision. Any of these three are acceptable to me, so please do not worry and select the one which feels correct to you."
"Three places to stay sir?" asked Harry quietly. He had never had the chance to decide where he lived before, so the prospect excited him. "Thank you for trusting me to make this decision sir." Harry was moved by the fact that the headmaster considered him and what he may want to do over the summer. This was an opportunity he'd never had before, so given the chance to pick, he was eager to hear the options.
Dumbledore simply nodded and waved off his thank you. "Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter. First, we could spend some time with the Weasleys as they have graciously offered you space in their home this summer. Obviously, due to the nature of Arthur's job, Sirius could not visit as he is a wanted criminal by the Ministry," explained Dumbledore. Holding up a hand to stifle Harry's protests of Sirius' innocence, he continued, "Right or wrong, it is the reality we must face. Until such a time that his name is cleared, it would be wrong to place Arthur's job and the Weasley livelihood in jeopardy."
Harry sighed and scratched his head. "I do not wish to upset the Weasleys, as they have been so good to me." Part of him wished to simply be with his friends and have a carefree summer holiday. However, he knew in his heart that his days of carefree time were over. Not that he'd ever really had much at the Dursleys, but the fact remained that he needed to prepare for what was to come.
Dumbledore nodded sagely before continuing, "Indeed. I do not believe they will hold ill will should you choose another option. A more honest and kind family, I have never met." He paused briefly to clean his glasses on his suit. "The second option is to come to the generational home of the House of Black. It is the headquarters of the resistance again Voldemort. It's behind an exceptionally powerful ward called the Fidelius Charm."
"How does it work?" asked Harry. "How can a charm be considered a ward?" Wards had been a subject that Harry had heard talked about before, mostly in relation to Bill, Ron's older brother, but he'd never actually looked into the subject before. In school, they'd always appeared to be a type of extremely difficult magic that took years of experience to master.
Dumbledore smiled brightly before answering, "Ahhh yes, the curiosity of youth. One of my favorite parts of my job. Simply put, it's a charm based on the trust of a secret keeper, and the faith the inhabitants put in the secret keeper. Alas, as you well know, the charm is not infallible, as was the case with your parents. Once one side of the charm is broken, either the trust or the faith, the charm breaks, and the location is revealed to everyone."
Harry did not miss the lone tear sliding down the face of the aged headmaster at the mention of his parent's charm failing. "Yes sir. Peter betrayed the trust my parents put in him. So that makes the charm fail even if my parents still had faith in him as a person?"
Dumbledore smiled gently, "Exactly my dear boy. Interestingly. the charm is exceptionally powerful because of how easily it can be broken. It is a fascinating conundrum. Equal parts faith and trust in harmony make for a fragile, yet extraordinarily powerful ward."
Harry leaned further back into the couch, as his emotions almost overcame him. "And how is a charm a ward? I always assumed that wards were different from the magic we learn at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair and stroked his long white beard slowly. "Do you think that Defense Against the Dark Arts is its own brand of magic?"
Running his hand through his hair, Harry answered quickly, "No, it's a combination of curses, charms, and transfiguration." The headmaster motioned for Harry to continue the thought. "Which means that wards are not a special brand of magic, but rather a combination of other areas of magic like charms," finished Harry quickly with a broad smile. The headmaster did not teach classes anymore, but Harry could easily see the decades of experience behind his patient teaching style. For a brief moment, Harry was sad that he did not get to experience Dumbledore teaching in his prime.
The beaming headmaster exclaimed, "Precisely Harry. Precisely. Though more often than not, you will find yourself dabbling in the subject of ancient runes for warding." Harry was reminded that while the headmaster's practical teaching days were over, he was an incredible teacher. "But alas, we are not here to talk about runes, but your future safety."
"Of course sir." Harry nodded and motioned for him to continue.
Resting his hands gently on his lap, Dumbledore spoke, "There is of course a third option. It is by far, the most complicated solution, but perhaps the safest. The Black Family has a manor with extremely old wards that block anyone from entering that is not an active member of the family."
"But sir," protested Harry. "I'm not a Black."
"How very astute of you Mr. Potter," chuckled the Headmaster. "There is Black blood in your veins. Enough so, Sirus thinks, that you could be blood adopted into the Black family. He has been asking me for some time to make this an option for you. You see, your Great Grandfather Charles married one Dorea Black just before the Great War. You are partially Black by blood."
"I am? So Sirus and I are related?" asked Harry. He was reeling in shock from the revelation. He knew that most purebloods had linked lines along the way, but he'd never considered the fact that he could be related to his godfather in some capacity.
"Indeed. Though distantly," murmured Dumbledore. "Perhaps too distantly to be allowed into the manor without being killed by the wards. It would be best to complete the blood adoption ritual should you choose to go to the manor. That would ensure that the wards accept you as a member of the family. This is a very grey area of magic. It is possible they could accept you without the adoption, but it would not be a formality."
"What about the rest of his family? Are there any other blacks that could enter the property?"
"Indeed a good question. Sirius would have to remove them from the family. Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and young Draco would be cast out of the Black family formally by your godfather."
"Malfoy? I guess I shouldn't be surprised given what I know of his family," said Harry.
"Indeed young Draco is more closely related to Sirius than yourself. More concerning is Bellatrix, who is a convicted Death Eater in Azkaban prison right now. Should Voldemort free his imprisoned Death Eaters, she would be able to return to the Black manor without issue."
"Sorry sir, just one more question… How does adoption and this disowning stuff work?" Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to go through with this, especially if it would put Sirus at risk.
"No need to apologize. Fear not, my boy, the process itself is simple. Adoption can happen at any Government office within the ICW. Now given the situation for Sirus at the British ministry, we could perhaps travel abroad, or we have to time it perfectly so that only members of the resistance would be working in the necessary offices at the ministry," finished Dumbledore with a smile.
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure I understand the difference between the headquarters of the resistance and the manor options. Are they not the same?"
"One is under the Fidelius charm, that is the headquarters. The other has numerous wards, but perhaps most important to you is the unplottable enchantment. One simply can not plot or know the location without being invited to hold the information. There is one notable exception in the act of using a phoenix to travel through the wards. The Phoenix is a unique creature that can just simply appear in a location. They are notoriously picky about who they allow to travel alongside them, so it is not a security concern but a fascinating bit of magical trivia if you will."
Harry nodded. "I appreciate you giving me the choice sir." The headmaster simply nodded at the thanks. "With that said, I'm still unsure which of the last two I should pick," continued Harry. "Do you have an opinion one way or the other sir?" Harry flushed at the irony of appreciating being allowed to make a choice, and then still asking for guidance. To him, the gesture was the most important aspect, rather than making the actual choice.
Dumbledore reached forward and patted Harry's knee. "Of course Mr. Potter. There's no shame in asking for guidance," said Dumbledore. He then lean back and looked down over his half-rim glasses with a touch of humor in his eyes and continued, "Wisdom comes from extensive experience, and between you and me, I have quite a lot of experience." Harry smiled gently at the older professor in front of him, once again glad for his infectious personality. Dumbledore paused before he spoke, "There are pros and cons to each decision. On the one hand, were we to pick the headquarters of the resistance, it would be a safer option for Sirus, and you'd be able to learn from many of the resistance members. However, you'd be unable to do magic at the headquarters, as the ministry would be able to detect it, and I do believe you've gotten one underage magic notice already," finished the headmaster as he looked over his glasses at Harry.
Harry flushed sheepishly, but his curiosity was piqued. "Sir, you mention the Ministry being able to detect my magic at this headquarters… I'm just trying to make a logical jump here. Does that mean the ancestral home would allow me to practice magic?"
Dumbledore smiled broadly. "An astute observation Mr. Potter! Being unplottable disables the ability for any tracking magic to work. A person is in a place that simply does not have a location. In effect, they are in a location that does not exist. The runes that power the unplottable wards are extremely powerful. They create a pseudo dimension within the ward stones."
"That sounds amazing! I would love to be able to practice magic," said Harry excitedly. "What are the cons of the ancestral home?"
"Well as stated earlier we'd need to sneak Sirius into the Ministry to do the blood adoption." Dumbledore held up his hand to halt Harry's protest. "We have two things going in our favor, so there is indeed a fairly reasonable chance we could succeed. First, we have a resistance member working in the Ministry Office of Family Affairs. Mr. Diggle is aware of Sirius' innocence and is capable of performing the quick ceremony."
Harry nodded grimly, "and the other thing working in our favor?"
Dumbledore paused briefly, before continuing, "I need your word, Harry, that this conversation stays between the two of us. No one can know what we are about to discuss." Harry nodded once firmly. "Have you heard of The Tales of the Beedle and Bard?" After Harry shook his head, the headmaster continued, "It's a magical children's book. In it, there is a story about three brothers. Three brothers who bested death, and were granted three powerful magical items. One brother was given a wand that was more powerful than any wand in existence, another a stone that could resurrect the dead, and finally, the third was given an invisibility cloak that never wore down with time and could keep him perfectly invisible."
Harry fell back into his aunt's ornate sofa astounded. "Sir? Are you suggesting these items are real?" The headmaster simply nodded. "A stone that could bring back my parents?"
Dumbledore sighed and looked at Harry with pity in his eyes, "All of these items, these Deathly Hallows, have drawbacks Harry, and none of them work as you would like to think. A stone that can resurrect the dead, yes. But a stone that resurrects the dead in such a manner that they are not real, nor can you interact with them in any way. Death is a dastardly creative beast. The second brother got a stone that taunted him with the image of his dead wife, but he was unable to interact and spent weeks just staring at her before death claimed him."
Harry just stared at the ground. "I guess it's a bit like the mirror sir?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, as he wiped his misty eyes, "Yes. Precisely. But Harry, look at me and hear this." Harry glanced at the headmaster before he continued, "There is no magic on this earth that can bring those who have passed back to us. Believe me, if there was, I would have found it."
Harry knew there was more to that story, but decided to leave it and ask about it at another time. "You know when I found the mirror, I was just so thrilled to have seen my parents," whispered Harry. "I never knew what they looked like, or how they acted. I just…," Harry trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his thought.
"Wish you knew them," finished the headmaster with a sad look on his face. Harry nodded numbly. "When we get back to school, once a week we can look at some memories of them in a pensive. I will talk to some of their professors and friends and see what memories we can get our hands on."
"I'd really appreciate that sir." Harry stood up and went to his trunk next to the sofa, and pulled out one of his most prized possessions. "This is the photobook that Hagrid gave me at the end of my first year sir." As he idly flipped through the pages, he continued, "I couldn't thank anyone enough for letting me know my parents just a little bit more."
Dumbledore leaned forward to look at the pictures that the book held. A lone tear slid down his cheek. "It would be my honor to share a few memories and stories of your parents with you."
Harry took one last longing look at his parents and slowly stood up to put away his photo album. "Sorry for the tangent sir."
Dumbledore waved off the apology, "There is nothing for which you should apologize Mr. Potter."
Harry took a deep breath as he sat back on the sofa. "So the three brothers…" He looked up at Dumbledore expectantly.
"Ah yes. As I was saying, the items do carry a hefty price. The wand, for example, comes with a proverbial target on the back of the owner. Those who seek power often seek out the owner of the wand. So the first brother who was first given the wand by death eventually fell to the wand of another wizard, and the wand's allegiance shifted to the new owner. Needless to say, the wand's history has been quite bloody and deadly."
"You speak of this wand as if it were alive sir," started Harry as he searched for the meaning behind the older man's words. "Are you familiar with it?"
Dumbledore grimaced, and with a quick flick of his wrist, his wand flew out of his suit. "In a manner of speaking, yes, I'm all too familiar with it."
Harry's eyes widened. "Is that?" he trailed off, with his eyes never leaving the wand. He studied the intricate orbs of wood that went over the length of the wand. He never would have imagined that Dumbledore had a wand that required a level of barbaric nature to obtain. Suddenly his memory flashed to an image of Hermione mentioning that Dumbledore beat Grindelwald, a previous dark wizard. "I assume Grindelwald?" Dumbledore simply nodded, as he battled his own personal demons. "But sir…I'm not sure how this wand is going to help us get into the ministry. I doubt we will be blasting our way into the ministry."
The comment seemed to draw Dumbledore out of his shell slightly, and he chuckled. "As much as I imagine it would be an interesting challenge, no, we will not be blasting our way into the ministry." He looked over his glasses and conspiratorially said, "Though I do imagine we could pull off the feat together." His eyes were once again lit up with mischief, and Harry grinned in response. "The item in question, the third Deathly Hallow, is none other than your cloak, Harry."
"My invisibility cloak?" exclaimed Harry astonished. He knew that his father had owned it when he was in school and that it was an extremely high-quality cloak. Dread suddenly filled Harry. "Sir… What's the drawback of the cloak?"
"Fear not Mr. Potter. The story says that the third brother was a humbler man than his brothers. He did not ask for something to show some power over death. He did not ask for a stone to taunt the power of Death, nor did he ask for a wand that could take the decision of mortality away from Death. Instead, he simply asked for a way to hide from Death. Death never found him unlike his brothers, and when he was ready, he took off the cloak and gave it to his son. The legend says he greeted Death as an old friend and equal." Dumbledore stroked his beard and continued, "I studied the cloak extensively when your father lent it to me, and I could not find any discernible negatives beyond the obvious that knowledge of what it is could lead to the owner being in danger from others. Seeing as the only two people in the world that know the cloak's owner are in this room, in my opinion, we do not have to spend too much time fretting about that."
Harry sighed in relief, "That's good to hear. So the plan then…" He trailed off leaning back into the sofa. "I reckon we sneak Sirius into the Ministry then."
"Indeed. It does seem like a much less taxing alternative. Though I imagine it might be significantly less fun."
"I dunno. I reckon Sirius will like pranking the Ministry," muttered Harry with a grin.
"Indeed. It is settled then. In two days' time, we will take a completely normal trip to the Office of Family Affairs where you will complete a routine check on your familial duties," replied the headmaster as he winked conspiratorily over his glasses. "For now, I will take you with me to Hogwarts. We shall remain together for the next two days until we can guarantee your safety."
"I'm leaving Privet Drive then?" asked Harry. "Forever?" A huge smile blossomed on his face, while Dumbledore's flashed sorrow before gently smiling and nodding his head. Harry suddenly felt a wave of magic wash over him and looked toward the headmaster. "Sir?" he questioned.
Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows, "You felt that? Most Interesting. That Mr. Potter was the wards surrounding Privet Drive realizing that you no longer recognize the location as your home. Over the next few weeks, they will gradually weaken in power before collapsing, hence my dire warning to your aunt. The fact that you could feel the shift in magic speaks volumes to your relationship with magic Mr. Potter. We will have to discuss magical theory at some point I would imagine," He surveyed Harry briefly before waving his wand swiftly at the trunk next to the sofa.
Harry flushed at the praise as the trunk shrank and few into Dumbledore's pocket in one motion. "Relationship with magic sir?"
"Perhaps a discussion for another day when we have more time my boy," spoke the headmaster as he once again waved his wand clearing what Harry assumed were the privacy charms surrounding the sofa. "Are you ready? Any last words?"
Harry turned to his aunt before quietly murmuring, "Thank you, and I'm sorry." Harry flinched slightly as the headmaster's hand squeezed his shoulder standing just behind him. Privet Drive had been an unhappy home for Harry for years, but it had still been a home nonetheless. He felt slightly guilty about the timing of his departure considering he hadn't told his family Dumbledore was coming to pick him up. Years of torment and hunger were his most prevalent memories of this home, yet despite himself, he felt a touch of fear about stepping beyond the walls he knew.
"Petunia, heed my warning about vacating the area," was all the professor said before he twisted and Harry felt like he was pulled through a rubber tube.
"Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," exclaimed Harry as he fell to the ground. "What was that?"
"That, Mr. Potter was apparition. I never quite remember what it's like to experience it for the first time," he finished with a slight grin as he looked down at Harry on the ground.
"Can't wizards have a proper way to travel?" grumbled Harry as he picked himself off the ground. The duo now stood outside the Hogwarts gates near Hogsmeade Village. Dumbledore strode off towards the castle with his typical long strides outpacing Harry. Harry had to jog to catch back up.
"You know magic always has a cost. Speed is gained at the cost of comfort," lectured the headmaster when Harry had caught back up. "Magic theory is clear on this. Most often it is energy, similar to requiring food to walk or run, but other magics take different tolls."
Harry fell silent for a moment as the duo had come around the corner leading to the imposing castle. Every time he saw the castle in all its glory, it was like seeing it for the first time all over again. Great towering spires filled the skyline with the familiar buttresses lining the Great Hall. "Every time I see Hogwarts sir," Harry trailed off unable to finish the statement.
Dumbledore paused and drank in the sight. "Indeed Harry…Indeed."
"Sir?" started Harry before continuing, "We can protect this right?"
The older man simply looked sideways at Harry and nodded resolutely. "I hold in my heart the strongest of confidence in you and in the good of people everywhere. We will protect this Mr. Potter, even if it is the last thing that we do." Both stood silently for a moment before he continued, "Come, Harry. The hour is late, and we have so much to learn tomorrow."
Harry didn't say anything else as the duo made their way to the castle before separating. Harry wandered the halls before eventually heading to the Gryffindor common room. As he laid down to sleep he was both excited and haunted by three key facts that seemed to surround him. First, he was overwhelmed with the new reality that he was away from the Dursleys forever. A single tear slid down his cheek as relief washed over Harry. For his entire life, his supposed family had loomed over him, always there to remind him that he was never truly free. To remind him that he was always alone in the world and that no one would love him.
Second, he was seemingly going to be learning magic directly from Dumbledore. He hadn't said the words directly, but every indication seemed to point towards Harry learning new magic from the headmaster. They were supposedly going to start by talking about magical theory. Harry privately thought that might be a touch boring, but reserved his judgment for the lesson, as there had yet to be a magic that didn't amaze him on some level. Growing up in the muggle world did wonders for the awe factor with magic.
Finally, he was frankly worried that even the man he looked up to seemed to see a war on the doorstep of the wizarding world. Harry knew that he needed to become stronger for the coming war and that there was no substitute for hard work and dedication. He could feel the sudden shift in urgency from the headmaster after Voldemort's resurrection. The mand had decades of experience in dealing with dark wizards, and it frightened Harry that he was seemingly gearing up for a large conflict. Harry was resolved though, that in this conflict, he would make a difference. In this conflict, he would turn the tide of war.
Lucius Malfoy stalked up to the Minister's office. He'd given his assignment some thought after recovering from the Dark Lord's wrath. It wasn't quite the disaster he'd assumed it would be. With the Dark Lord returning soon to be public knowledge, the Traditionalist Faction of Wizengamot would stand to lose significant power. Publicly and inside Wizengamot, fewer families would side with a faction that traditionally aligned with the Dark Lord. If Lucius could pivot to the Moderate Faction ahead of any news coming out about the Dark Lord, he would be able to maintain at least a portion of his political capital, which would only grow over time.
He'd quickly written a letter to set up a meeting with the leader of the Moderate Faction, Cyrus Greengrass. A Lord switching factions without prompting was a relatively rare occurrence, at least when it came to peacetime. Typically shifts only occurred when two families joined by marriage, or a feud occurred. A plan had formed in his mind. If he could arrange a marriage between Draco, and the eldest Greengrass girl, Draco would have sole control of the Moderate Faction of Wizengamot when he was older. While it wasn't quite the Traditionalist faction he had hoped for when planning Draco's future, it was still a seat of significant power within the government.
Cyrus had returned the letter with complete distrust naturally and demanded that a public action aligned with the Moderate Faction would be required before he even entertained a discussion between the two houses. It was a large demand of the Malfoy house, which was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Delightfully though, this played perfectly into Lucius's hand, as the Dark Lord had given him just an assignment a few days prior. If nothing else, Lucius was a consummate Slytherin and tried to get every advantage he could, even if he was put in a disadvantageous position. He hoped that with this meeting today, he would have the grounds to bring Cyrus Greengrass to the table to discuss his transfer into the Moderate Faction within Wizengamot.
The minister's office was on the highest floor of the ministry building and had a spacious glass wall on the right that overlooked the vast lobby. Just before the double doors at the end of the room, which led to the minister's office, was a small desk for an assistant. A young boy, clearly of lesser blood, was frantically organizing papers. As Lucius approached the Minister's door, he used the snake head of his cane to rap on the desk of his assistant to get their attention. "I assume you have notified the minister I'm here to see him." He had to hold back his bile at being forced to talk to the filthy mudblood that was the minister's assistant.
"Of course sir. Go right in," stammered the young man gesturing towards the door.
Using the other end of the cane, Lucius tapped the office doors as he entered. "Minister I have come with some delightful news for you."
Cornelius Fudge blustered, "Ah… Lucius my friend. Please come in and have a seat." He gave a wide gesture at a luxurious set of leather couches that centered the entry area of the office. "Would you can for a drink?"
"Please," spoke Lucius softly. Normally he had very little patience for the small talk with Cornelius, but today he needed something from the Minister, so for today, he needed to play along.
Cornelius came back with two rather full glasses of presumably whiskey and sat on the couch opposite Lucious. "Come, my friend, tell me of this delightful news." He leaned back flattening down the material on his suit.
"I've decided to change my alignment within Wizengamot," said Lucius simply.
"Change your alignment!?" exclaimed Fudge, almost dropping his drink.
"Indeed to the Moderate Faction. It should provide us with a larger base to keep you in office longer," finished Lucius, noticing the greedy gleam in Fudge's eye when his tenure as Minister of Magic was mentioned.
"Won't that risk us losing the Traditionalist Faction?" queried Fudge.
Taking a sip of his own whiskey, Lucius held up his hand to stop the worrying from even starting. "Fret not. I have enough control. Lord Nott will succeed me as the leader of the Traditionalist faction, but he will still follow my lead on any important matters."
The minister rubbed his hands together greedily, "Excellent. This will broaden our power base even more. It should give us a majority in Wizengamot as well. We could pass whatever we want within reason!"
"We do have a small problem minister," started Lucius, "We must convince the leader of the Moderate Faction to allow me into the faction. For some reason, he doesn't trust me."
Fudge frowned, "Cyrus Greengrass? He's a tough one to handle."
"Indeed, if you can believe it, he demanded that I do some public service in alignment with the Moderate Faction before he would even speak to me about transferring factions."
"Perhaps I could speak with him on your behalf," spoke Fudge as he drummed on his knee with his fingers clearly in thought. "I can't believe he wouldn't be thrilled to have such a fine upstanding citizen as yourself in his faction."
"I would appreciate that Cornelius," murmured Lucius. "Either way, out of the goodness of my heart, I will be completing his request to show him just how serious I am in this endeavor."
"That is quite generous of you Lord Malfoy…" spoke Cornelius as he set down his now empty glass. "Is there any way that my office can assist you with your service?"
"As it so happens, I do have a project in mind. It's long been a passion of mine to cure the issue of squibs within our world," spoke Lucius silkily.
"Err…Squibs?" questioned Fudge.
The Malfoy Lord waved him off. "Come now, you must at least acknowledge the issue that has been plaguing the purebloods for the last hundred years or so."
"Yes, but won't this alienate the Traditionalist faction?" came the stuttering response.
"Imagine how you will be heralded as a hero of a minister when we solve the issue and give the squibs magic again…" Lucius trailed off, letting the minister's imagination take hold of the picture he was painting for him. "The Traditionalists will only care if we are not successful. This will endear you to the entire population. Even the Light Faction will applaud you for this."
The minister just rubbed his hands together, "Let's get down to business then." Lucius simply leaned back into the luxurious couch, knowing he had some long hours of discussions in front of him to pull off this political miracle. What mattered most was that he now had the Ministry on board. With the skill of the Dark Lord and the influence of the Ministry, he would surely succeed in his task for the Dark Lord.
The next two days seemed to drag on for Harry. Not that he wasn't excited to have returned to Hogwarts, but he was eager to see Sirius and spend his summer with his godfather. Dumbledore had left Harry to roam the library with a few suggestions of books to start looking into magical theory. It appeared that Dumbledore wanted Harry to learn about magic as a whole before delving into specific branches for learning. Reading textbooks had never been a particular strength of Harry, so he was making less progress than he would have liked. Unfortunately, as he was at Hogwarts during the summer, he was unable to practice the practical side of magic. Despite his hopes otherwise, the Ministry could apparently still monitor magic even at Hogwarts according to Dumbledore. Only an unplottable ward could block the monitoring of magic, and as Hogwarts was known by too many people, it couldn't be placed under the unplottable ward.
Wards, and by a lesser extent ancient runes had been an area that Harry had spent some of his time researching. Following his conversation at the Dursleys with the headmaster, his curiosity was peaked, and he spent a good portion of the second day at Hogwarts reading about the basics of wards. He had loads of questions to ask the headmaster about wards when he next got the chance.
Harry met the Headmaster in the Great Hall on the third morning of his stay at Hogwarts. Gone were the typical four tables for the four houses, as well as the staff table at the head of the room. It seemed that the magic of the Great Hall had once again adapted to the people actually in the castle. Harry remembered his first year at Hogwarts when there had been a similar setup of the tables in the Great Hall around the holidays. Harry easily slid into a space across from the headmaster and a plate appeared full of food. "What's the plan today sir?" asked Harry as he started to pick at his sausage.
"In my youth, I had a far greater fondness for bangers for breakfast," stated Dumbledore chewing softly. "Alas, as I've gotten older, I'm not quite as able to enjoy them the same way." Harry smiled briefly while he waited for the headmaster to continue. "After breakfast, we will be learning about magic today," replied Dumbledore cheerfully.
"Magic," deadpanned Harry.
"Indeed. I believe it will be most exciting," he finished joyfully while stuffing a sausage into his mouth. "After that, we will visit the esteemed Ministry of Magic, to visit our good friend Dedalus Diggle in the Office of Family Affairs." He patted his beard with his napkin before continuing, "Perhaps a visit to the headquarters of the resistance first though."
Harry smiled at the infectious personality of the headmaster, "I look forward to it sir. When do we start?"
"After you finish your meal Mr. Potter," said the aged headmaster. "There's no magic without energy, and no energy without food."
Harry simply nodded his head and dug into the wonderful food provided at Hogwarts. He was still recovering from not having much to eat at the Dursleys, so he was quite willing to eat more than his fair share of food. Over the last two days, he'd spent a small amount of time looking into the magical adoption that was due to talk place today. It was a fairly archaic system for magic to acknowledge someone as an heir to another family. The adopting family got an heir and the individual being adopted agreed to support act as if they were part of the adopting family. When Harry first heard the idea, he was initially a bit nervous, but after looking into it, he was much less nervous, as it seemed like a simple enough process.
His larger concern at the moment was hoping that he and Dumbledore could sneak Sirius into the ministry without incident. There was a significant risk of sneaking into a place where Sirius would have a kiss-on-sight order from the Minister. There were a number of things that could go wrong in the ministry, and he was worried about any one of them happening. A simple bump into an invisible person would sound alarms throughout the building, or an unexpected sound would draw unwanted attention. Naturally, Harry had faith in the headmaster, so if it was a worthwhile risk to Dumbledore, then it was worth the risk to Harry.
Additionally, a large part of Harry was extremely touched that Sirius considered him family enough to want to do this ritual adoption with him. It had apparently been his idea from before the summer had even begun. Having an adult looking out for him, was an unfamiliar feeling to Harry, but he was extremely grateful that Sirius was willing to do that for him. As he knew from the Mirror of Erised, having a family was his deepest and most heartfelt desire. Today he would officially have one!
Having both finished breakfast the duo of the headmaster and Harry made their way to the headmaster's office. As they sat down into the comfy seats in the office Harry prompted Dumbledore, "So Magic…"
The headmaster smiled and inclined his head. "Yes, Magic. Today I want to discuss the start of magical theory with you." He paused searching for a place to start. "Perhaps it might be best for you to ask any questions about what you've learned in the past two days."
Harry scratched the side of his face and thought back on the books and tomes he'd been skimming over the previous days. "I reckon I'd like to know more about the nature of magic sir. A few textbooks referenced it in passing, but didn't have anything concrete about what it was."
Dumbledore steeped his fingers together in front of his face. "Ahhhh…Yes. An excellent question Mr. Potter. Simply put, the study of the nature of magic, is the study of how magic interacts with each individual. How it interacts and tells us things about the world around us. Magic speaks to those who are capable of listening in different ways. What it says to me, is completely different that what it might say to you."
"Sir…," started Harry. "You speak as if magic is alive…"
"Is it not?" asked Dumbledore as he leaned forward in his seat. Harry couldn't help but notice the wonder and excitement in his voice. Clearly, this was an extremely interesting topic for the headmaster. "Do you not hear the hum? Can you not feel it around you right now? It permeates our lives, our bodies, and our souls. It shapes us and provides us with guidance. It controls us but allows us free choice. How would it not be alive?"
"How do you listen to magic, sir?" asked Harry. He frowned. "I'm not sure I can feel magic right now. I felt it at the Durselys when we left, but not now."
Dumbledore leaned back staring into space as if he was looking at the magic around them. "It will come with time and dedication. It's like opening your eyes for the first time. Once you start listening to magic, you will never be able to stop yourself. Magic is the second most intoxicating force in the world, and without it, many witches and wizards perish."
"Second sir?"
"Love, Mr. Potter. Pure and simple, love is the most powerful force in the world. It has turned good people dark with fear and jealousy, yet at the same time, taken some of the darkest people, and redeemed them into the light."
Harry only nodded his head, but he wasn't totally sure he fully bought into the idea of love being the most powerful force in the world, but he wasn't going to protest with the headmaster. "But how is it that you start to listen to magic? I'm not sure I've read about that."
"Meditation is typically the first step. Once a witch or a wizard is in tune with their own magic, they will start to feel and sense the magic around them."
"Seems like I need to do some research into meditation," said Harry.
Dumbledore smiled gently. "Perhaps. When you get a chance in the future to attempt it, my only advice would be to follow a feeling that makes you feel completely at ease. No single person's journey is the same, so this is the best advice I can give you."
Harry nodded mutely. He wracked his brain trying to think of what feeling made him truly feel at ease. "I imagine this would be a bit of trial and error sir?
"Indeed, but that time is not now, unfortunately," said Dumbledore. "We have a full day ahead of us, and our first stop is to pick up Sirius."
Harry broke into a wide smile. He'd been looking forward to seeing his godfather for days and was excited to get to spend time with him on a regular basis. "I brought my cloak like you asked sir."
Dumbledore clapped his hands together and rose out of his seat from behind his desk. "Excellent!" Coming to stand next to Harry, and handed him a piece of paper. Read this very carefully, and think about what you read. This is the floo address for the Headquarters."
Harry stared down at the piece of paper in his hand. 'The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London England'. His eyes widened as he recognized the secret being shared with him. Suddenly he became aware of the floo address. This was the power of the Fidelius Charm in action. "Wicked," said Harry. "I've never felt magic like this. Wards are pretty incredible magic."
"They are indeed," chuckled Dumbledore as he approached the fireplace in the office. Waving his arm towards the fire he spoke, "You first Mr. Potter. Clearly state number twelve Grimmauld Place."
Harry nodded, grabbed a handful of the greenish floo powder, and clearly spoke, "Number twelve Grimmauld Place," as he threw down the powder. He didn't stop the flinch when green flames roared all around him. He quickly shut his eyes to keep any soot out of them, but that did little to stop the spinning sensation as he spun through the floo network. After a few seconds of spinning with his eyes closed, Harry felt quite nauseous, so he cracked his eyes, to help stop the feeling of swirling. He caught flashes of various homes as he flew past them, and suddenly he was thrown out of the network spinning and crashing into the kitchen of an unknown house.
Panic began to rise in Harry until his thoughts were interrupted by a bark of laughter. "Blimey Harry, I don't think I've seen someone less graceful coming out of the floo."
Relief flooded through Harry. "Sirius!" He smiled broadly as he sat up and looked at the devastation he'd wrought on the room. Soot was everywhere and chairs had been tipped over sideways. Harry decided he hated magical travel. "It's not my fault witches and wizards can't invent a single reasonable form of travel besides a broom."
With another snort of laughter, Sirius waved his wand and the room started rectifying itself. "It's all in the elbows Harry." He reached down and grasped Harry's hand and pulled him onto his feet. Harry was soon enveloped in a hug as his Godfather thumped his back. "It's good to see you, Harry."
Harry flinched ever so slightly, but smiled broadly and said, "Sirius!" Moments later the fireplace roared to life again and Dumbledore stepped out.
"See how you properly use a floo exit Harry?" ribbed Sirius.
"Yeah, yeah eat it up," flushed Harry in embarrassment.
Dumbledore chuckled, but spoke gently, "Gentlemen, we have much to go over if today is to go by plan. I suggest we get started."
Daphne Greengrass was a pureblood in the purest sense of the word. Her family traced back over a millennia with only purebloods being married into the mainline of the family. Her family stood as one of the sacred twenty-eight, that had never been marred by non-pureblood blood over the course of countless generations. And she couldn't care less.
This had been a moderate sticking point with her younger sister, Astoria, who vigorously believed in the idealism of pureblood propaganda. Daphne, however, had a wonderful best friend, Tracy Davis. When Daphne was younger, she firmly believed in the pureblood way, as most of her family did, but her ideals had been completely shattered during her first four years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She'd met an unassuming vivacious girl on the express during her first year and had never looked back. Tracy and Daphne were inseparable, but according to her father and sister, Tracy was a lesser witch, and as such was below Daphne's station. Daphne's mother cared far less about blood status and instead favored actions over status. Tracy and Daphne had successfully navigated the snake pit that was the Slytherin hierarchy together. Nothing truly serious happened, but there were plenty of threats that the duo had weathered. Because of Tracey's assistance, Daphne's mother had a favorable view of the half-blood witch. Daphne personally adored Tracy and spent a good portion of every summer at Tracy's house with the Davis family.
Today, though, she'd been summoned by her father back from the Davis' house. This was not typical and concerned her greatly. As she walked down the ornate hallways of Greengrass Manor, she thought back on the various times she'd been summoned like this to her father's office. The first time she could remember was the death of her grandfather, who at the time was the Lord of the family. His death had been the first time that she was faced with mortality. Daphne vividly remembered having to present herself to the new Lord, who was her father, but doing so with tears streaming down her face. Her father was not an unkind man, but rather quite business-like, and had not handled two sobbing daughters all that well.
The second time she'd been officially summoned, it had been the week before she left for Hogwarts. What followed was a week of grueling lessons on what was expected of her at school. As the primary heir of a house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she was expected to have a certain level of academic success. At school, there wasn't anything that she could do that reflected poorly on the house with the sole exception of poor academics. The way Draco Malfoy flung around titles and blood purity in their house at school, one might assume that there were things that heirs of houses could do at school, but in reality, none of the oldest houses trusted kids to make any decisions, so the idea that one house could influence another in school was laughable.
After every year at Hogwarts Daphne was expected to give her father information on how the school year went for her as well as other students. Every year she gave information on large events that happened at the school. Naturally, she left out the ridiculous rumors of whatever Harry Potter had supposedly gotten into that year, with the exception of last year when she had informed her father of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As she reached the door that led to her father's study, she took a moment to take a deep breath and mentally prepare herself. Reaching out she gently knocked on the door, before opening it when she heard a gruff, "Enter."
Daphne bowed her head in respect, "Father. I have been summoned."
"Yes Daphne, thank you for coming. Please take a seat." Her father gestured toward a chair directly across from his desk. She made her way into the room and slowly eased into the ornate chair. He continued, "Recently I've been contacted by Lord Malfoy about a political matter, and I wanted your opinion on a few situations you might have been closer to than I have."
Daphne nodded firmly. "Of course."
"Lord Malfoy is supposedly having a change of heart and considering changing factions within Wizengamot." Daphne was shocked. That was a huge political move that would send shockwaves across Wizengamot. Her father continued, "Naturally as the leader of the Moderate Faction, it's up to me to determine if he is being truthful in his attempts or if there is some ulterior motive of which we are not aware."
"Of course that is logical," said Daphne.
Her father stroked his goatee before continuing, "I often find that you can shift winds of change in the children of the older lords. Have you seen anything from his son, Draco, that might be a hint of this change?"
Daphne shook her head. "Just the opposite father. Draco is a petty child more concerned with blood status and bullying, than anything important. He is by far one of the most outspoken about blood purity in our house."
"I see," her father said with a frown. "I was afraid of that answer. That means we must discern the true plan for Lord Malfoy. He's not one to make idle political moves." Daphne said nothing, as no answer seemed to be required of her. Her father continued, "I've already returned his letter with a demand for a public action which I highly doubt he will do."
Daphne murmured, "He does not seem like the type."
A gentle nod of the head from her father showed that he was thinking along similar lines. "Exactly. Let this be a lesson to you Daphne. Find the ulterior motive in any political move before truly acting on that political move. Patience in all things." Patience was a lesson that had been stressed to Daphne and Astoria since they were young. It made some logical sense, as her family was traditionally in the Moderate Faction, which was constantly in the middle of a battle between the Light Faction wanting progression, and the Traditionalist Faction wanting to maintain the status quo. The ability to have patience and observe both the pros and cons of each side was a hallmark of the Moderate Faction of families in Wizengamot.
"Yes sir."
"My first thought is that this might have something to do with the rumors that we heard about from the Potter heir. I've spoken to Cornelius Fudge about the rumor that the Dark Lord has risen once again, but he has assured me that there is no actual evidence of his resurrection." Daphne heard no question in the statement, so she said nothing. She'd spent a great deal of time thinking about the rumors of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being revived. The thought was completely terrifying to her, but she mostly feared for her friend Tracy if the rumor turned out to be true.
"What do you think of the Potter heir?" Came the question from her father that shook Daphne out of her mental tangent.
Daphne frowned, "I'm… not sure." She paused trying to sort out her thoughts on the matter. "On one hand, Tracy and I hear rumors about fantastical events that supposedly surround him at school. We've never seen any evidence of any of those events being true, beyond just standard Hogwarts rumors. On the other hand, I've never personally seen the boy brag, or boast about any of these supposed adventures. I imagine reality is not quite as glamorous as the tales if anything really happened at all. As you know Dumbledore believes Potter about the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Her father simply nodded. "I remember you telling me at the end of the term. What are the rumors you have heard about heir Potter?"
Daphne sighed. "Nothing exact, and they are all fantastical tales with little chance of being true." She clasped her hands in her lap as she thought back through the years. "In our first year, there was a rumor he killed a mountain troll with his bare hands, and dueled our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In our second year, we found out he was a parselmouth, and there was a purely ridiculous story that he killed a Basalisk with only a sword."
"Truly?" asked her father. "That must be pure fiction. There's no way a 12-year-old could kill a class XXXXX monster by themselves and live to tell the tale."
"I agree. Hence why I never passed along the story. I will say that there is an award in the trophy room of Hogwarts dedicated to Potter for 'special services to the school'. I am unsure about its origins, but I found it at the start of my fourth year. In our third year, there was a rumor that Potter fought off over one hundred dementors at the same time." Her father merely raised an eyebrow at that particular story. "Personally, I think that story is the most likely to be true, as I saw him produce a corporeal Patronus during our third year."
"Impressive."
Daphne just nodded, before finishing, "And that's about it. The rumors are highly unlikely to be true, but again, I've never seen him personally boast about any of them."
Her father stood up and walked around the desk before pulling Daphne into a gentle hug. "Thank you for your assistance. I may call upon you later if I have any further questions."
"Of course father."