Unfinished Journeys, Untraveled Roads - 11 - Escape
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by Polydicta
A selection of unfinished tales that have been abandoned.
Each 'chapter' represents a single story.
Ongoing warnings for smut, language, character death, bashing, torture, mutilation, religious/social iconoclasm and reader brain damage. Brain bleach is highly recommended.
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Disclaimer:
All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.
There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.
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Unfinished Journeys, Untraveled Roads - 11 - Escape
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It is the end of Fifth Year, Sirius Black has been dead less than an hour and Albus Dumbledore has just dumped the responsibility for the survival of Magical Britain on the narrow shoulders of one Harry James Potter. The resulting angry ... outburst changes everything.
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Features The Grangers, Harry, Tonks and a ski lodge in the Alps.
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Chapter 1: Escape From the Great Manipulator
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To describe Harry Potter as being one peeved teenager would be like describing the sea as a bit damp or the Antarctic ice-fields as a trifle chilly. Harry Potter was incandescent with rage. Albus Dumbledore had just revealed to him, minutes after his godfather had died and his friends had been injured, the prophesy.
Another thousand points from Dumbledore, in Harry's opinion.
Harry had passed the anger event horizon, and now he was giving the same impression as the surface of the sun as seen from the Earth. It all seemed bright and calm. He reached a decision.
"Why?"
He asked very coldly, very quietly. He knew what the answer would be.
"It was for your protection … I …"
Dumbledore never completed his statement. Harry's wand was out and a series of lightning-fast blasting curses reduced most of Dumbledore's pretty 'toys' to mangled, inert scrap.
Harry's … tantrum … continued for ten minutes, reducing the Headmaster's study to ruins. One of Harry's curses had clipped the old man on the temple, rendering him unconscious.
A cold smile crossed Harry's lips as he looked down on the old fool. A line had been crossed and a judgement had been made. The headmaster had been found wanting.
Harry pointed his wand at the author of his misery, and silently said, "legilimens."
Ten minutes later, Harry had everything he wanted. He checked the instruments and devices to ensure that nothing remained workable. One contained a small phial of blood, his, he assumed. The phial was scourgified and a trickle of the headmaster's own blood was used to fill the phial.
On a whim, he took the professor's wand, a particularly ornate one, and tried it. It worked wonderfully for him. He kept it.
Re-enervating the meddling old fool, Harry left for the Gryffindor dormitory.
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Once in his room, he packed his belongings into his trunk. He penned a brief note for Hermione, the only person who would genuinely worry for him, and took his belongings to the owlery.
"Hedwig, hide until tomorrow night and take this letter to Hermione. Then I want you to come and find me. Don't let anyone other than Hermione send a reply with you. I'll see you in a few of days. I'm sorry, Girl, but it'll be a long flight for both of us."
Hedwig made several noises and nibbled her human's finger, indicating assent.
Harry mounted his broom, his shrunken trunk in his pocket and turned his face southward, vowing privately to never willingly return to Hogwarts as a student.
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Crouched low over his broom, Harry flew south, arriving on the outskirts of Greater London just as the sun brightened the horizon. He landed amongst some trees and, using Dumbledore's wand, he un-shrunk his trunk, quickly changed into muggle clothes, re-shrank his trunk, disillusioned himself and flew off before anyone could apparate in to find out who was doing unauthorised magic.
Thirty minutes later he landed at a London tube station and bought a ticket. Still unseen, he waited for a train. When one arrived, he boarded an empty carriage, cancelling the disillusionment on himself as the train started to move, and stowed his broom. To any observer, he was just another untidy kid riding the underground.
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He reached Leicester Square tube station and exited the network and walked confidently to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Ducking into an alleyway, he donned his father's invisibility cloak and waited for someone to go in.
Undetected, he arrived at Gringott's and entered, removing his cloak once inside the outer door.
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An hour later, Harry had determined that his parents had left him the ruins of a house in Godric's Hollow, a vault with a couple of million galleons and his trust vault. Best of all was a chalet in a ski resort, but Griphook had no idea where. From his trust vault he withdrew 5000 galleons his maximum permitted single withdrawal, and an assurance that his finances would be available through the bank's Paris branch in order to cover his tuition at Beauxbatons next year. A quarter of the galleons he converted to Pounds, a half to Euros.
He walked the distance to Charing Cross station and booked himself on the Eurostar to Paris. He caught the underground to a different station and used a machine to buy a ticket to Folkstone. He sat in a café on the station and ate breakfast.
His train stopped at Canterbury, and Harry got off, knowing that his ticket, if traced, would lead Dumbledore to Folkstone. A steady walk out of the city up onto the downs and he would be ready for the next leg of his escape. On the hike through the town he bought sandwiches and drinks to take with him. Cancelling the shrinking charm on his broom, he mounted and flew eastward, crossing the English Channel and arriving at the coast of Belgium. He continued to fly slightly south of east and crossed the border into Luxembourg as night was falling. He landed and made a cold camp, eating the last of his sandwiches.
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Rooting through his now re-enlarged trunk, Harry managed to dig out his muggle passport, which Hermione had helped him obtain the previous autumn. He silently thanked her and cast a small confundus charm on the document. His name was now shown as Hereward Porter. The photograph was, as usual, bad enough to barely give an impression of what he really looked like.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
He tapped the Marauders' Map with his own wand and watched the ink fill the parchment. Harry looked to see where Hermione was, and then his other friends. Then he looked at an ink-blob that he had noticed before. There were two of them, and he had noted that this one resembled a map of Luxembourg.
He stared at the blob and going on a hunch, tapped the blob once more with his wand, being rewarded with the message changing.
"Messrs Prongs, Padfoot and Moony greet Prongs Junior and wish him a bon vacance."
The blob had expanded and now showed a map of the small country with annotations and directions to reach the Potter holiday retreat. Harry wondered how there could be a ski-lodge in this fairly low landscape. he also wondered how Wormtail wasn't included in the salutation.
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The following morning saw Harry following the directions to a house on the outskirts of Diekerch. When he arrived, he found a rather dilapidated single-story building with a partially collapsed roof. As he wandered around the derelict building, he had the impression of a carefully arranged mess. He entered the house, wand ready, and found a flight of sturdy stairs down into a basement.
As he descended, he felt the wards activating around him, but felt no threat.
The lower level was, in fact, mostly empty. It was also clean and dry with no evidence of the derelict state of the building above.
There was a single closed door. As Harry put his hand on the knob, he felt the tingle of magic, and the door opened. He entered and torches on the walls lit. He allowed the door to swing shut and looked around. The room contained a steel filing cabinet, a desk with a chair and a wardrobe. There was a parchment envelope on the desk. He opened it and unfolded the letter within.
My Dear Son,
If you are reading this, then the unthinkable has happened and you are probably fleeing for your life. As you have solved the riddles to reaching this house, you should know that here you are safe, although this room is hardly a pleasant holiday home.
Do not despair. There is a way for you to reach your real holiday destination from here.
Since you have already pranked your pursuers, you will know how to discover your way forward. Please don't leave this letter behind.
I love you, son, and wish you luck in whatever mischief you have managed to perpetrate to date.
Your loving father,
James.
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Harry stared at the letter and smiled.
"Mischief Managed."
The ink ran and rearranged itself.
My first is a key over a ring of stone.
My second a lock for that alone.
My third is a cupboard, a crock to throw.
My fourth is a password your nature to show.
Harry groaned. A four-part riddle. He looked around for inspiration, opening the filing cabinet and the desk drawers. The cupboard was locked tight.
There was a key in the desk drawer, but Harry thought that too obvious, so he continued looking.
He was looking at one of the torch-brackets when he realised that it was different from the others. He tried to move it but nothing happened other than disturbing some dust.
As he watched the dust fall, he noticed a circular hole in the stone of the floor just large enough for his thumb.
He inserted his finger and pushed and pulled. There was a click and one of the stones of the wall shifted. Harry pulled gently and was rewarded by the stone revealing a small key safe. He withdrew the single key from the safe and pushed the stone back.
He looked at the strange key. He knew that it would fit the cupboard.
He opened the crockery cabinet and saw that it was big enough to walk into with maybe a half-dozen people. He grinned, realising that this was a transport portal of some kind.
Returning the key to its place and gathering up the parchment as well as his broom, Harry closed the door and said the password, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
There was a moment of vertigo and the door swung open, revealing an immaculately kept room.
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Back in Britain there was pandemonium. When Harry had failed to appear at breakfast and, moreover, no one seemed to have seen him, it was realised that he was missing. Then when Harry's note was delivered to Hermione who was still in the infirmary, hell actually broke loose in Hogwarts.
Hermione had shown the note to McGonagall. In it, Harry had explained that Dumbledore had kept back information that would have prevented Sirius from dying and Hermione and the others being hurt. He said that he was going to try to leave the wizarding world behind and that he would not be returning to Hogwarts.
Hermione was heartbroken. Luna was mildly surprised and Ginny and Neville were furious with the headmaster. Ron, on the other hand was difficult to judge, being still rather vague about the boundaries between reality and unreality.
Ron's reaction was to say, "oh? Fair enough. Say hello to him for me when you see him."
He then continued sketching the unlikely scene of a higgledy-piggledy house perched on an impossibly steep slope. He signed the finished sketch and left it on his night stand in the infirmary.
Hermione took some time over writing Harry a note, securing it with privacy charms. She sent it with Hedwig, telling her to take care of Harry for her.
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The Order was alerted and all stops pulled out to find Harry. His underage magic use while using Dumbledore's wand, the Elder Wand, was lost in the general background of magical use in Britain. His booking on the Eurostar, however, was recorded.
He had given the ticket to an elderly gentleman in the queue who had used it to get to Paris to see his daughter. The Order never found a trace of his use of the train to Folkstone.
As far as Wizarding Britain was concerned, Harry had disappeared off the face of the Earth.
As far as Hermione was concerned, she guessed that he had suddenly grown a deviousness that spoke of Ron's chess mastery. She hoped that she would see him over the summer at some point.
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Chapter 2: The Higgledy Lodge
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Harry explored the building he had arrived in. It seemed to be a rambling construction that, in the way of magical buildings everywhere, had been added to over the years. Each addition seemed to be on a slightly different level to any other, and hugged the mountainside at the back.
As he started on his way back to the main building, he noticed a corridor that seemed to go into the mountainside.
Following this, he found that he was, indeed, in a series of tunnels through the living rock of the mountain.
Passing through warded doors that made his hand tingle, he found a study and library, a duelling hall and a potions laboratory. He also found a garage containing an old sports car of some sort, a land rover and a motorcycle. Through a set of gates, he could see a long tunnel leading away from the house, presumably leading to the nearest road. There was a well equipped workshop area in the garage, which surprised Harry a lot.
Thinking about it, the building was probably no larger than The Burrow, but built on one basic level and having its additions sideways-on.
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Entering the study, he found two envelopes addressed to himself. within, he found letters from his parents. For the next hour he simply sat and cried, reading and re-reading their words to him.
He moved into the master bedroom and planned his studies for the next few years.
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Morning arrived, and Harry was woken by the sensation of his ear being gently nibbled.
As he woke, he greeted his familiar who seemed to be carrying a letter from Hermione. He retrieved the envelope, gave Hedwig a handful of owl treats and quickly checked everything for tracing and transport charms.
Hermione's letter wished him luck and success and stated that she hoped that she would see him soon.
An ink blot caught his eye. Hermione never blotted her work, so this was deliberate. He tapped the blot with his wand and said the usual password. What blossomed across the lower part of the page was her itinerary for the summer, and a personal note that she was considering withdrawing from Hogwarts herself.
Harry determined to try to meet her over the summer.
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It was the last day of term and Nymphadora Tonks was to escort Ron and Hermione back to Kings Cross on the Hogwarts Express, since neither of them was yet entirely back to health.
"Ron?"
"Hmm?" He looked up and saw the pink-haired auror.
"This sketch you did. May I keep it?"
"Oh … yeah. It's just something I … Yeah, keep it. D'ya want me to sign it?"
Tonks nodded, "you already did, thanks."
She shrank the picture and put it in her pouch.
"Thanks Ron, it reminds me of somewhere I went for a holiday once."
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At Kings Cross, Tonks handed Ron over to Molly Weasley and escorted Hermione to meet her parents.
"Hermione?"
The teen looked at her escort.
"That picture that Ron sketched. I've been there as a child. It's the old Potter holiday home. I think it's close to the southern border of Switzerland."
"Really? We were heading to Lausanne for mum and dad's annual conference this summer …"
The auror blushed. "Do you think they'd mind if I tagged along … for security's sake?"
"Ask them. Why?"
"Something Padfoot told me during the spring. Something about the headmaster."
"Do you trust Dumbledore?"
Tonks shook her head a violent no. "Of course I do … he does, after all, strive for the greater good."
Hermione thought she understood all too well.
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Back home in Oxford, Hermione was checked by Tonks for monitoring and tracking charms, as was the house and her parents.
"You're being tracked, but I won't cancel that until you leave for the airport. We're not being listened to."
The three Grangers and Tonks sat down and the realities of the year and the current state of wizarding Britain were explained in full and graphic detail.
At the end, Tonks said, "Sirius once told me that there was a prophesy. It told that The Chosen One would be the one who would defeat The Dark Lord. Unfortunately, Sirius had begun to think that the dark lord in question was not Lord Thingy. Don't say it … there is such a thing as a Taboo charm…"
Hermione blanched as Tonks continued.
"… Sirius was beginning to suspect that the headmaster was on the ascendant as the next dark lord. Harry should have been trained up from age six, he should have been raised in the wizarding culture, taught what he needed early and been able to reach his potential early. What has actually happened is that he was kept ignorant until he was eleven, forced into bad study habits, taught by poor or impaired DADA teachers and kept in the dark about his supposed destiny.
"There's another couple of issues that are relevant, but they're not entirely my own business."
"Other issues?"
She nodded. "Inheritance and, umm, betrothal contracts."
"Betrothal … contracts … ?"
Tonks nodded. "It's quite commonplace among pureblood families, and among many older half-bloods too. The rules about such contracts are quite … complex, but as best I can make out, Harry has two contracts that have been signed by his, AHEM, guardian, who has pocketed the bride price himself."
"The headmaster?"
Tonks nodded again. "To Ginny Weasley and a girl called Lucienne Mangalais. Harry will be automatically wed to them when he turns seventeen unless he contracts elsewhere when he is sixteen."
"Pardon?"
"If Harry makes formal declaration of his own after his sixteenth birthday, he will pre-empt one or both of the outstanding betrothals."
"But … two … w-wi …?"
"Yes, as I say, the law is quite complex, but polyamoury is quite legal, even commonplace in the magical world."
"H-he's … a-allowed …"
"Three wives, as far as I can ascertain, but the third contract is only able to be entered into by himself, and only when he comes of age at seventeen."
"T-t-three …?"
"The best part is that should either contract be broken, the guardian has to repay the bride-price and pay a further penalty."
"You really hate him, don't you?"
"The headmaster? Yes."
"Hermione?"
"Yes mum?"
"How do you feel about this Harry Potter boy, anyway?"
Blushing, the teen replied, "about how you feel about dad, I guess."
Barely above a murmur, Tonks said, "… and so do I …"
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A few days later, Hedwig arrived carrying a letter from Harry addressed to Hermione.
The owl was obviously tired so she gave the bird some treats and some water and settled down to read Harry's missive and to write a reply.
Harry told her that he was well and that he had found somewhere to recover his equilibrium and to train for what he must do to defeat the dark lord. He also wished her a happy holiday when she visited Lausanne and Hérémence, and warned her to keep her eyes open and to be safe.
There was an ink blot in the middle of the letter, not an unusual occurrence for Harry, but she wondered …
Tapping the ink blot with her wand and said, "Hérémence is not on my itinerary."
She grinned broadly when the blot shouldered aside the rest of the note and she was able to read Harry's real letter.
He confirmed that he was safe and well, that he had a perfectly good house to stay in, and that she would be welcome to come and stay, with her parents if they wished. He also mentioned that there was a large and fairly complete magical library in the house as well as plenty of other pursuits, but to remember to bring her skis and winter clothes.
He signed this letter with love from Harry.
Her reply was more circumspect since she couldn't use magic to disguise her letter. She explained that she would take care and to keep her eyes open, and that they would be accompanied by a body-guard in the form of Tonks. She also stated that there was an awful lot they needed to discuss when they next met.
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Smiling broadly, she approached Tonks when she next arrived.
"I heard from Harry. Tell me about this holiday place?"
"It's high in the mountains. Some kind of ski and hunting lodge, I gather. A typical magical home … old, rambling and well warded. How he could have gotten there is beyond me, though. It's a long way to have travelled so quickly."
"A portkey?"
"More than likely."
Tonks showed the Grangers the sketch that Ron had made.
"This is a pretty good drawing of the house. It's right on the snow-line, I think, and protected by an overhanging cliff. I remember a number of paths across the mountain side and a long tunnel. I was only five at the time, though."
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"So, what are we going to do, Dan?"
"Emma, I don't know. What Tonks and Hermione told us is … worrying. I'm half inclined to say let's just pack up and get out, and to heck with the wizarding world."
Emma Granger sighed and relaxed. "Me too. You want to get the wheels in motion?"
Her husband nodded. "We know that the practice has an outstanding offer on it. Let's pack what we can and arrange for the house and practice to be sold once we're gone, and just get a shipping firm to send everything over."
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By the time they were ready to leave for the symposium, the house was bare of all their personal belongings. Tonks had taken them to Diagon Alley and they had bought magical multi-compartment trunks. Tonks had shrunk everything to get it into the trunks and had then shrunk the trunks. The whole household excluding furniture now fitted into a single hold-all.
They took a taxi to Southampton Airport and caught their flight direct to Lausanne where they hired a car. That evening, they were comfortably ensconced in their hotel and wondering how to make contact with Harry.
They had eaten dinner in the restaurant and had returned to their room when there was a knock at the window. When they looked, Tonks and Hermione with drawn wands and curses on their lips, they saw on the balcony a smiling Harry Potter holding his firebolt.
"Who are you?"
"The one who nearly died of fright when Hermione was felled by Dolohov. Who are you?"
"The one who made a mess of her last but one letter."
"I don't need to ask about Tonks there, no one else does Donald Duck impressions quite like that."
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"Harry, we've decided to quit Britain. Hermione and Tonks have told us about the war and what is happening. We want to protect our daughter, who, incidentally, has a confession to make to you at some point. Not, I hasten to add, a bad confession …"
Hermione was beet red with embarrassment.
The next morning, Harry arrived to guide the Grangers to his home.
"Harry, what are you doing riding a motorcycle?"
Harry grinned. "It isn't actually a motorbike, it's a broom disguised as a motorbike that flies at zero altitude. It just seemed more sensible to guide you on the roads this way than by flying broom in front of a city full of muggle dentists."
"Let me guess … Sirius's?"
"Nope. This one was my dad's. Hagrid still has Sirius's. This one is less … exciting."
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Two hours later the five of them were enjoying a cup of tea overlooking the forests below Harry's higgledy house. Harry was quietly fuming about Albus Dumbledore, but managed to keep his temper in check.
"You need to read this. All of you…."
Dear Harry,
Cub, If you are reading this letter then I am gone. Hopefully I died doing something really stupid, brave or unprintable. I hope it was death through sexual excess, but if not, well …
Since there will have been no little Padfoots (thank you, Snivellus!) then I have named you my heir and successor. Everything is yours, but since I don't trust Albus Dumbledore any further than I would trust Wormtail, then I don't expect you to see a thing of what I have officially left you.
To this end, you will find in my room in the lodge a number of trunks containing, amongst other things, the Black family library, a collection of valuables, most of the family cash, equipment and materials, and a penseive. I have taken the time to bottle up memories of my time with your parents and anything else I can think that you might like or find useful.
I hope that you will find your way here before you need to, but in case you didn't, I hope that you didn't suffer too many losses getting to where you are. It was my hope to show you the maps when I next saw you, and since you are here then either I did or you figured it out on your own.
You should know that Dumbledore has been holding you back, and that you have been fed doses of some kinds of feeble-mind and oblivious potions to keep you ignorant and under-trained. I can only assume that Dumbledore sees some reason to fear you. There are counter-potions in the potions lab. They are in the purple-stoppered vials marked 'numeracy potion,' since they COUNTer the problem.
If you haven't already done so, tell that girl that you love her. You two seem to be the last to know.
You will find more notes elsewhere.
Love,
Padfoot.
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"You took the potions?"
Harry nodded.
"And I noticed the difference within minutes. My mind seemed … clearer. I found that I can remember all of our lessons clearly, including Binns' droning on. It's a bit like looking into a penseive all the time. There were extra vials of the stuff, too. For some reason, Sirius thought that you and others might need some as well?
Hermione blinked.
"You want to drink them? They're harmless if you're taking them and you haven't been fed the potions. I looked them up in Mum's potions notes."
"What about my parents?"
"The stuff works on Muggles too."
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"THAT EVIL, CRETINOUS, MANIPULATIVE SON OF A BITCH!"
Harry went into Hermione's room and held her until she calmed down.
"I was more creative about what I called him, but I agree. This is about revenge now …"
He was interrupted by multiple, incoherent screams of rage from the other rooms.
"You take your parents, I'll take Tonks."
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"A forgetfulness potion? Are you sure?"
"Yes, Tonks. I'm not muggleborn at all. Mum and dad are both magical, though how he targeted that I will never know …"
"We never went to Hogwarts, dear. We were sent to a private tutor in Oxford. It's how we met. Neither of us was ever particularly powerful. We were both well trained in occlumancy, though … and that protects from obliviation to some degree."
"What about you, Tonks?"
She did something that she hadn't been able to previously … she shifted into the form of a very tall woman. Returning to her own form, she then performed a series of balance exercises … flawlessly.
"Ability and memory suppressants. Of course, part of that suppressed my spatial awareness and balance. I was convinced that I was only able to change my soft tissue form, that height and overall shape were fixed. Now I realise that I am a true metamorph."
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"These are the wands captured by my parents and by my grandfather Charlus. See if there are any that suit you. Hermione, you need to use a wand without a trace on it to ensure that the Headmaster is unable to track you that way. There are no underage magic laws in Switzerland, just the Statute of Secrecy. All police and military here are aware of our world, so they will contact aurors to deal with any infraction."
Hermione ended up with Lily Potter's wand which, strangely, was stronger for her than her own. She found a second match, though less good. Her parents found wands that worked tolerably well.
"Although I have Albus' wand, my dad's is a good match, too."
"Why did you take his wand, Harry?"
He grinned wickedly. "To annoy him. There is one other thing though. I disarmed him, so the wand is rightfully mine … you'll see …"
He fetched two books, opening one at a sketch. He laid the wand beside the sketch. the second book had a page marked. Opening the history, Harry indicated a passage.
… His [Albus Dumbledore] favoured wand was that previously owned and used by the dark wizard Grindlewald until his defeat in a duel. The wand, of a particularly ornate design after the style of the Gothic wand masters, was taken by Grindelwald from the hand of Werner Gottleib who was rumoured to have taken it from Samuel Isaacs. It has been hinted that Isaacs received the wand after defeating a previous dark lord in 1782, one Darius the Cruel …
"So this is an old wand that …changes … allegiance …?"
Harry indicated a passage beside the illustration, re-holstering his wand at the same time.
… "The eldest asked for an unbeatable wand, and was given by Death the Elder Wand, a wand unbeatable in a duel, but that would change allegiance should the wizard ever be disarmed and the wand taken as by an enemy. This wand was hereafter known as 'The Elder Wand' or The Deathstick."
The many references to the wand describe it as being of a particularly ornate design in the style of the old Gothic wand-makers. Pendel, in 1792, even ventured a sketch based on a wand he had seen in use which is reproduced here.
It is generally accepted that the Elder Wand is named for the unique occurrence of this unusually impractical wood which is prone to spontaneous destruction when subjected to high magical flows. Others have posited that the wand is named for the Eldest brother, and that the wand is of some other wood. Whichever is the case, it is certain that this particular wand re-surfaces with great regularity in accounts of great mages throughout history.
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"This is … "
"The Elder Wand? Yes, as far as I can tell. I disarmed the headmaster, accidentally, to be sure, and took his wand. It works well for me, so it seems to have changed its allegiance … if that isn't proof, it is certainly an argument for."
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"Harry? These are all books of dark magic!"
Harry nodded. "And the counters to the curses and hexes."
Hermione's mouth formed an oh.
"That's right, I have been studying the dark curses so that I can recognise and counter them."
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