Harry Potter and the Chains that Bind

by patrick mcclellan

6th year. Time magic. New teachers. Causality. Year 6 replacement. I continue JKR's characterization, and that means Harry is not a god, no one cuts themselves, there is no implied harem, there is no Mary Sue, Dumbledore/the Weasleys aren't actually evil. If you've read it, go ahead and write me a summary, if this isn't good enough.

28. Chapter 28 Ex Nihlo

Chapter 28 - Ex Nihlo

When the bubble around Harry and Parvati finally disappeared, Harry did his very best to wander casually but directly towards Hagrid's hut. Parvati was too excited about her bag of Bluecaps to question the way in which their hunt ended. She even knocked on Hagrid's door with a firm but distinctly feminine tap. Harry wasn't sure how a knock could be girly, but Parvati's was.

"I was just about to come and fetch ya'," Hagrid said, opening the door wide. A rectangle of light silhouetted them both. "Ya' put some proper time into it. Did ya' manage to find any?" He said, ushering them in.

Parvati opened the leather bag with a flourish. "Is this good?" The smile on her face said she already knew the answer.

Hagrid simply stared at the bag, his mouth slightly ajar. Finally he found his voice. "That's worth ten points to Gryffindor."

"Can you be awarded points on a detention?" Harry asked. He could have gone his entire school career and never even considered such a thing until tonight.

"I guess you're probably not supposed to, but I reckon we'll see tomorrow, if they're taken away." He shrugged. "I guess I see why it took ya' a while."

"Hagrid?" Parvati said almost hesitantly. Hagrid beamed down at her. "What do they taste like?"

"They taste different to everyone. If ya' want, it won't hurt ya to try one."

She picked through the bag for the smallest one. "It won't hurt me? Are you certain? I mean, for real certain."

"I've eaten loads myself." He waved vaguely at Fang, who was asleep under the table. "Fang ate 'em all winter, when we got snowed in." Fang lazily opened one eye at the mention of his name, then snorted and rolled over. "Ya'd do well to remember that a few of those is like a whole day's food, so ya don't want ta' overdo 'em."

"What do they taste like to you?"

Hagrid thought about it. "Kind of a chewy toffee taste." He nodded.

Parvati slowly raised the Bluecap to her mouth. Fortunately it didn't twitch, as Harry was fairly certain she wouldn't have ever tried it then, but he was curious too. She delicately bit it in half and chewed experimentally.

"Well?" Harry asked. Hagrid was watching her too. Her and Lavender hadn't always been enthusiastic in his classes...Harry thought he might be as curious as she was.

"They taste like...scallops. Buttered scallops. With garlic." She shoved the other half in Harry's mouth before he was ready for it. He had no choice but to chew it up. He did this slowly. "Well?" she asked with anticipation.

"Peaches," Harry said. "It tastes like peaches."

"I'm right proud of you two," Hagrid said. "If you ever need some time late at night to yourselves, I can always use more o'these. As many as you can get."

Harry thought some time alone with Parvati was a fantastic idea. She was smiling but unreadable. They said their goodbyes and headed back to the castle, since it was now half past three in the morning, and Parvati looked as if she was going to fall over. Harry felt the same way. When they were halfway to the castle he turned to her.

"I left something in Hagrid's hut, I have to go back!"

"What?"

"Some wizarding cards...I put them out so we wouldn't lose them in the forest."

"We can get them tomorrow." She slumped against him, knocking him sideways.

"I have to run back and get them. If Ron finds out..." he left the sentence un-finished. If she let him go back, it meant Parvati would get to keep a secret; if there was one thing she loved to do, it was keep secrets.

"Go ahead," she said, predictably. "I'll wait for you in the common room, if you aren't too long."

"I won't be." He ran back to Hagrid's and pounded on the door. From the sound of it, Hagrid had gone to bed.

"Harry? Sumthin' wrong?"

"You can't tell anyone," Harry puffed.

"Course not. Man to man. Er...what?"

"A cat. A bloody great tiger, right in the forest. I saw it on accident while it was clawing up a tree and ran away before it could see me. Er...flew away, actually. Connor was with it."

Hagrid raised one massive eyebrow. "A...tiger?" Harry nodded. "Like the big orange kind?" Harry nodded again. Hagrid stared over Harry's shoulder. Harry could almost hear the gears in his head spinning. "Well, there aren't any here. You certain?"

"I don't reckon it was supposed to be there," he snapped. "It had to be an animagus. And I don't trust Colier."

"Alright, Harry. I have to ask. I reckon you're rightm beings that...well...there aren't any. Like I said." He paused. "Why don't ya' trust Conner? He seems like a good lad to me. Always cheery in class."

Harry had forgotten that Connor was in Hagrid's class. There weren't many spells, so it was spot on for him. "I have my reasons. Like for instance, I just saw him in the forbidden forest talking to a stupid tiger."

"He seems to like you," Hagrid said hopefully.

"Maybe. I'm sorry," Harry said. "I'm knackered."

"I'll go out and look tomorrow, Harry, and I'm not sayin' it's there, but if it is, it'll be ruddy lucky to get clear of the centaurs. Connor, too, if he's still out there. He's right enough to me, but the centaurs won't really care about that."

Harry nodded. "Just...keep this to yourself, okay?"

"Well, you know I will." He shook his head sleepily. "You better get back to the castle now."

Parvati was on the sofa in the common room when Harry got back. The last embers of the dying fire barely illuminated her, making the gold in her hair glimmer. She was looking at something in her lap. "What have you got?" She didn't respond. He walked around to get a better look at what she was holding, before he realized that she was asleep. She was holding a single small Bluecap loosely in one hand.

"C'mon," Harry muttered, pulling her to her feet. She was murmuring complaints and insisting that she hadn't really been asleep, but merely resting her eyes. Harry stopped short of the stairs. If he fired those off in the middle of the night, he'd very likely be cursed, jinxed, and physically abused. Just before Parvati began her slow climb up the stairs, she turned and kissed his ear. Then she leaned against the wall as she ascended the stairs, and Harry watched her until she was out of sight.

Why that single kiss on the ear should stick in his mind when they had spent half the night snogging was a mystery, but it did.

Back in his own dormitory, Connor was snoring noisily on his bed, bare chest highlighted by the moonlight and splayed fingers almost touching the ground. Harry thought for a moment. Then he waved his wand subtly and a yellowish haze soaked into Connor's Boots and highlighted them briefly. The spell wouldn't last more than a night, but he was hoping that was all he'd need.

He slumped into his own bed, noting dourly that the mirror's edges were glowing a faint blue. Before he went to sleep, Harry took a peek at the map to make sure the dot that marked Connor was in his bed.

The next day, Harry was awakened by shrieks and gales of laughter.

"AAAH! He's trying to kill me!" a hoarse voice shrieked.

Harry fumbled with his glasses. Next to him, he heard one of his Wizarding cards complaining from their spot on his bureau.

"No respect! No respect at all!" It sounded like a woman.

"This is what happens when they do away with public flogging," announced another. Harry was pretty sure that was Salazar Slytherin.

By this time, Harry had his glasses on. Connor was fighting with his boots, which seemed to be resisting his feet ardently.

"Get on, you worthless pieces of...something worthless!" Connor hissed, through clenched teeth. The boot was squirming in his hand.

"Oh, do help!" The hoarse voice protested again. "He's crushing me. I feel oppressed! Tread upon!"

"Tread upon!" screeched the other boot, in a weedy voice. "That's a good one!"

"I jolly well thought so," the first boot agreed. Throughout this, Dean, Seamus, and Ron were howling with laughter. "I say, boy! Unhand me! Those great feet of yours are crushing my soul. Get it? My sole?"

"Marvelous!" the other boot hooted.

Harry hadn't intended to create obnoxious footwear; he just wanted to be alarmed before Connor left for the morning. It was good entertainment, though.

With a mighty grunt, Connor pulled the feisty boot on and grabbed its less talkative companion. "Oh, the indignity of it all!" the second one protested. The first one might have said something more, but Connor's foot had muzzled it, so it sounded very much like an irate trombone. Harry used this time to spring from bed and throw on a robe. He was glad Neville was off somewhere and wouldn't see what was coming next.

He tapped Ron shoulder with his wand. Ron glanced at him.

"We need to talk to Connor. This morning. Now." Ron was silent. "I saw something." Harry whispered. Ron cocked his head. "I promise I'll explain later! Look, do you have my back?"

"I always will, mate," Ron nodded. Harry looked back at Connor, who had managed to get the uncooperative boots on his feet. Harry pulled on his own boots, as his trainers were still quite burned to a cinder and would probably stay that way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron slipping his own shoes on.

Connor glanced around the dormitory at the captive audience. "Not. Funny."

"Dead hilarious, mate," Dean managed. There were shrugs and nods from the others. Connor was managing to look stern, but Harry had seen him madder before. As he turned to go, Harry rose and followed him, and Ron brought up the back. As soon as they were in the cramped stairway Harry drew his wand, wagging it softly as if he was conducting the Wizarding Philharmonic, and counting down silently in his head.

A quarter-hour later, the three of them were standing in the room of requirement. Connor was not happy at having been escorted at wand-point. On his feet, his boots were still managing the occasional feeble objection.

The room of requirement was a simple box, one with ugly green walls and a single long table in the middle. There was a single chair on one side and two on the other. Harry recognized it as the interrogation room on a popular police drama that his aunt Petunia had watched religiously for the last few years.

"You could have just asked me, you know," he was complaining. He still had his hands held up at shoulder level. Harry knew he was fast with a wand.

"Fine," Harry said. "Why are you at Hogwarts? Why have you been sneaking around since you got here? And why were you in the forbidden forest with an animagus last night?" He'd had a chance to tell Ron a little, but Ron's normally placid face still crinkled a little.

"I'm here because I'm a wizard." Harry flicked his wand at the chair.

"Sit."

"And keep your hands on the table," Ron added, menacingly. "You don't just show up here at Hogwarts for no reason!" He had gotten into the mood as he had heard more and more from Harry on the way to the Room of Requirement, and was now properly agitated. "You had to do something to get sent over here, and I want to know what it is! It's only fair, I am a Prefect you know, and if you've been in some kind of trouble before..."

"In trouble before?" Connor snorted. He started to raise his hands until Ron tapped his wand-tip on the table. "Sometimes I think I've never been out of trouble."

"I wonder why," Harry added, sarcastically. "I mean, you show up at Hogwarts, a year behind, then you make every one of your house-mates hate you."

"They were jealous," he muttered. Probably true, but Harry wasn't about to give in. The time had come to learn what Connor was hiding.

"Then you get in classes you can't handle, sneak around the castle and through wards, and assault another student."

"What other student?" Ron asked, looking from Harry to Connor.

"Draco," Connor spat. "He attacked me."

This was also true, but Harry was certain that maintaining his momentum was pretty important right now. "Then last night, you were out in the forbidden forest, talking to an animagus."

Conner looked at. "How do you know that? Can you prove it?"

Harry shifted from one foot to the other. "I saved the memory someplace safe." He could feel Ron staring at the back of his head, and he wondered if it was possible to be a terrible wizard and a legimans.

Connor continued to stare. "He's not any more of a Wizard than I am," he remarked finally, looking to the ground.

"He was in the forest, and he's an animagus, and that makes him a wizard."

"I'm here. I'm still not a very good wizard."

"Good point," Ron nodded. "You're a dreadful wizard."

"So I suppose that means I should stroll right up to that bloody tiger-"

"The what?" Ron asked.

"Don't go near him," Connor said quickly.

"Harry," Ron whispered. "A tiger...that's...big. If he is a wizard..." Ron let his thoughts trail off.

"I thought you said he wasn't much of a wizard?" Harry replied. Connor started to lower his hands and Ron extended his wand menacingly. "I've been dealing with bloody Voldemort since before I could walk, thank you."

"He's not a wizard. He's...a weapon," Connor said, searching for the words with apparent difficulty. They took a long time to come out, anyway. "He'd...hurt you; and not a pleasant, easy hurt."

"Not likely. You think I'm a total pushover?"

Connor laughed. It sounded forced. "I bet you'd do okay, but you're no weapon, Harry."

This was not going as he expected, and he was getting angry. To make it worse, Connor seemed to be getting calmer, which was even more infuriating. He sputtered angrily for a while. "I've got to kill one of the worst wizards ever. Do you think I'm not up to it?" He stuck his wand in Connor's face.

"Do you know the darkest curses, Harry? Even more important, will you use them?"

"I don't need to."

Connor nodded. The look on his face was one of genuine contemplation. "I bet you don't. And you're pretty sneaky, I know that, but are you good enough to get from the top of this castle to the bottom, day or night, without being seen?"

"I have...ways-"

"That cloak comes in pretty handy there, I bet. And I've seen DA. So tell me, do you do offensive tactics as well? If you had to, do you know how to pick the weakest person out of a line? Can you see which is most likely to start a fight?"

"Enough," Ron warned.

"I'm getting sick of this," Harry said. "I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind." Ron nodded in agreement, but he was remaining silent, absorbing this all.

Connor went on as if he hadn't heard. "Can you smell fear? If you were chasing someone, could you know which way they were going to run before they did? Could you hunt someone? Stalk them?"

"Listen..."

Connor paused only a moment before going on. "And will you kill someone, even if he's not trying to kill you? Even the darkest wizard? I understand that has something to with how your mother saved your life. Maybe it runs in your family."

Harry was going to tell the American to shut up, or curse him into it, but something stopped him. This wasn't him. Ron raised his wand but Harry put a hand on his arm, slowly lowering it. Threatening people...cursing them to get his way...it wasn't what he did; and something in his head told him that if he did, he would cease to be the Harry he knew.

Connor waited patiently before he spoke up. "Too late, Harry," Connor said. You need to answer that one decisively. You need to say yes without thinking. A weapon can be a tool of good, or bad, but ultimately it destroys, because that's what weapons do. Even good ones. Especially good ones. If anything, Harry, you're a shield. You're the exact opposite of a weapon. I suppose that's what makes this whole Voldemort situation rough on you. If you were truly a weapon, you'd simply kill him and get on with it. Easier said than done, I know, but that's not what your problem is, is it?"

"No," Harry said, lowering his own wand slowly.

"Your problem is you're not a sneaker, or a stalker, or a hunter, or a killer." Harry stared at him.

"And you are?" Ron asked, looking aghast at Connor.

"A killer? No. I don't want to be what I am."

"What are you, then?" Ron asked. That, in Harry's mind, was a very good question.

"I'm...something. I'm...not good, Harry. Ron. I try to be, but that wasn't how I was made."

"You have a choice," Harry said, shaking his head and looking at Connor's boots.

Ron agreed. "I want to do terrible things all the time. Who doesn't? The trick is just not to do them, right?"

"Not me. I don't have a choice. You should know how that feels, Harry. It doesn't sound to me like you have much of a choice, either."

"I do, though. And so do you. And don't think I haven't noticed what you're doing. You haven't answered any of my questions."

"I have answered as many as I can," Connor insisted.

Ron shook his head. "I feel...less-than-satisfied Harry. How about you, mate?"

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Connor Colier. Bad wizard."

"Who was that with you in the woods?"

"Altasia. Very bad wizard. Please," Connor pleaded. "Stay away. I can't protect you from him." It was odd to see the American anything other than aggressively self-assured.

"Why are you sneaking around?" Ron ventured.

"I was made that way," Connor said.

Ron was shaking his head. "You'll have to do better than that, mate. Seriously better."

Connor was quiet for a while. Finally he spoke. "Katherine Lyall."

"What?" Ron said. Harry silently stared.

"Look, tell Dumbledore Katherine Lyall. He'll need to tell you. He made me promise not to tell you some things. Made me swear. More than swear. I can tell you that, though, and he'll have to tell you."

"Who's that, then?" Harry asked.

"I loved her. I loved her so much. I wanted to protect her, even though she was better than me at everything." Harry and Ron were still. "Better at magic. Better at taking care of herself. And us. Better at...other things. It should have been me that died."

"How did she die?" Harry asked slowly. His grip on his wand tightened. He now had more questions unanswered than he'd started out with, and that didn't seem possible. Unbelievably, Connor was crying. Big silver streaks flowed down his cheeks, and momentarily, he looked like a very large, very lost child. If it was an act, it was a good one. Then as fast as the tears came, Connor frowned and slammed his hands on the table.

"Him. Altasia. He killed her. It should have been me. I found her-when she was dying-I found her. It was like a movie. I thought if I wished hard enough, that if I was willing to trade my life for hers, I might save her." Connor wiped his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm. He pounded his hands on the table again. Both Ron and Harry reflexively raised their wands; then let them drift downward again. Ron was looking quite confused. Harry didn't blame him. Connor was gritting his teeth so hard veins were popping out on his temples. "Well, I never wished so hard in my life. I never wanted to die so bad, ever. She died in my arms anyway. It didn't do a damned thing. I couldn't do a damned thing." He stared at his finger-tips.

"Who was she? What are you?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you," Connor snuffled. He took a deep breath. "I want to, but I can't. Dumbledore did something..."

"What if I think you're lying?" Harry said, levelly. His wand was again raised.

A light hand on his shoulder shocked him into relaxing. Ron was pulling him lightly back. He shook his head. "There're things, Harry. Things that a wizard can do to stop another wizard from talking; I think he's telling the truth." Harry studied Connor, who had his hands buried in his long, sandy hair. His eyes were closed. "Show me something," Ron said. "Something you can't explain." Harry was a little lost, but Ron came from a wizarding family, and Harry knew enough to trust his friend on this one.

Connor looked at them both, with red-lined eyes. "I told you, I can't tell..."

"Don't tell," Ron repeated. "Show me. Show me something you promised not to tell us."

Connor gazed at the tabletop, which had quite a few words carved into it. Some were even polite. He raised his hands and stood slowly, then leaned over the table. With a whispery exhale, he transfigured into a cat.

It wasn't the massive tiger Harry had seen last night, nor was it the simple tabby of Minerva McGonagall. Connor was about half way in between...far larger than most dogs Harry had seen, and a light sandy brown with markings around his eyes, long legs, and frightening teeth. He leapt easily onto the table-top and sat on top. His tail, which looked to be as long as he was, twitched a bit. The end was white. After a few moments, certainly long enough to prove it was not the transfiguration they had been doing in class, Connor reverted. He lightly leapt off the table and his boots gave out an oomph as he landed. "Crushing my sole," muttered one, barely loud enough to hear.

Connor ignored it. "I don't know how you are following me. Wards. Tracking charms. Whatever. When I'm...like that, none of them seem to work very well. Save that for Dumbledore, in case he doesn't tell you."

Harry and Ron both continued to stare for several more long and silent moments. "We're going to have a chat with the headmaster," Harry said. "Remember this. I can find you, and stop you, if I think you're doing anything you shouldn't be. Anything at all."

Connor nodded and Harry stepped out of the room with Ron in tow.

"So...Dumbledore then?" he asked, only it didn't sound like a question.

Harry studied the door for the room of requirement. "Well, somebody owes us some answers." He turned to Ron. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

Ron managed to look hurt. "After all this time..."

"Right then," Harry nodded.

As the rode the stairway up, Harry tried to make sense of everything he'd gathered. It wasn't particularly successful. At the top, the thick oaken door to the Headmaster's office was closed. Harry raised the pewter knocker that was in the shape of a climbing chocolate frog. He let it drop and a single rap sounded out in the silence if the hall.

"Enter!" A voice cried from the other side of the door. Harry opened the door rather harder than he intended to, but forced himself to recover quickly.

"I was in the forest last night."

"That seems a...particularly strange thing to admit, given that I am your headmaster, and it is called the Forbidden Forest."

"I was serving a detention," Harry admitted, and Dumbledore nodded serenely. "I was hunting Fungus. Bluecaps; you can ask Hagrid."

"Ah! Did you have any luck? They are, if my memory serves me, quite...seditious. For a fungus, of course."

Harry had learned that the best way to converse with Dumbledore was to politely discus everything, but to keep the conversation moving in the right direction. Dumbledore tended to derail it quite often. "Parvati was out there too. She was quite good at it, actually." Harry nodded. "Got a sack full."

"As you know doubt know, they are rather useful. In my younger days, I attempted quite resolutely to replicate their properties. Unfortunately, one property I could not duplicate was their taste and consistency...both a bit like chalk. Totally inedible." He spread his hands and shrugged sadly. "May I ask...did you eat one?"

"Half of one." Dumbledore leaned forward and arched his fingers. Harry was reminded of how inordinately curious the man was. "Peaches."

"Ah!" He looked somewhat delighted. "Well, that is pleasant; but tell me, you can't have come to discuss fungi."

Harry took a deep breath. "Conner told me to tell you 'Katherine Lyall.'"

Dumbledore's face fell, at least, as much as it ever fell. He glanced from Harry to Ron and back to Harry again. "I'm sorry my young friends, but I cannot discuss other students."

"What if that student is actually an animagus?" said Ron.

"Pardon me?" said the Headmaster.

"He's a catamount. I've seen it." He waved his fingers in front of his eyes mysteriously. "With these."

"Regardless, I really shouldn't dicuss..."

"He doesn't set off my wards," Harry said, quickly. Dumbledore paused. "I mean, I don't think he's up to something, but can you at least tell me why?"

"I fail to see how that relates to Miss Lyall, Harry."

Harry felt he was on the verge of making a mental connection, but still couldn't connect anything. "Colier...Connor...said that another wizard killed her. What if that one doesn't set of wards either?"

Dumbledore slumped slowly into his chair, and in an uncharacteristic gesture, rested his fingertips on his closed eyes. It made him look very old indeed. He waved a hand and two largish chairs skittered over to where Ron and Harry stood.

He took a few deep breaths, and started talking more than once, but it was several moments before he actually made it past an "Ah" or "Well".

"Some years ago- many years ago- there was a prevailing theory that part of the reason that Wizards and Muggles couldn't get along was that there wasn't a way for one to become the other...Wizards could not become Muggles, and Muggles could not become Wizards. Of course, since the very beginning there have been attempts at stripping the magic from the wizard, with limited success. Hogwarts, for example, can keep many spells from functioning properly, among them apparition and some types of magical detection. Stripping the magic from a wizard entirely, however, has never been accomplished. You see, magic is in the wizard...to pull it out entirely, well, one wouldn't 'take the light out of a candle', would one?" He paused for a moment, gazing at Harry and Ron. Harry felt that Professor Dumbledore had more or less totally failed to answer the question, so far. He remained silent, and, as an afterthought, attempted an Occlumency exercise to clear his mind, starting with football and leading up to nothing but grey thoughts.

Just in case, Harry thought vaguely, beneath the ocean of worthless ideas, remembering all of the times Dumbledore seemed to read his mind. The Headmaster continued.

"There was an idea proposed in some circles that would address this question...Ex Nihlo." Harry and Ron were both leaning forward in their chairs. "Of course, certain factions were opposed...The Ex Nihlo project was entirely the opposite of what they had practiced for ages...something one of our founders held dear; A group of several of the age's best wizards came together with the ultimate goal of creating a Wizard out of a Muggle."

"That's insane!" Ron blurted out. "Who'd possibly think that finding a way to make a wizard of a Muggle would help us get along when Wizards hate Muggles? That's like…finding a better killing curse to show that killing is wrong!"

"Obviously, at the time, we thought otherwise. The Muggles had come to similar conclusions in their world, and in the span of sixty years, they created two devastating new ways of killing each other, reasoning that it would now be so easy to slaughter themselves en masse that no one would be foolish enough to attempt it any more. Of course, neither we nor they were correct, and in the end, most of us felt as you do. Still, to a group of revolutionary and forward-thinking witches and wizards, the existence of opposition is a good indicator that we were on the right path."

"Obviously the project failed, right?" Ron said. "I mean, if you could just turn a Muggle into a Wizard, wouldn't someone have done it?"

"Yes and no, Mister Weasley. We have known for quite a while that Muggles posess some latent power."

"They set off wards," Harry muttered. "We learned that in Defence."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very keen, Harry. We were able to properly replicate the procedure, though not consistently and not without…unpleasantries…and apparently, someone has done it."

"Consistently?" Harry asked.

"Unpleasantries?" Ron gulped.

"The first procedure was tested on ten Muggle volunteers. It was successful twice. Even when it worked, it was extremely painful." Dumbledore paused, and looked to his fingertips. "If there was a stronger word, I would use it. Both volunteers were very nearly mad by the time it was over, and it took them some time to master even the simplest of spells."

"You actually did it?" Ron gasped, leaning forward in his chair with a horrified look on his face.

"We did. The products of the first procedure were attenuated to magic enough so that they could perform many first year spells, given the proper time. Finding them wands was a bit difficult…yes…but Mister Ollivander was ceaseless in his research, as were we all. You tend to give more of yourself if you truly believe you're accomplishing something great."

"Wait," Harry said. "You said 'the first procedure.' Was there another?"

"There was one other, and three more planned, but not executed. We ended the program early when we discovered certain irregularities."

"And what were those?" Ron asked. Dumbledore paused as if he hadn't decided how much to divulge.

"Some of the advanced plans included…features, for lack of a better word, that had no place in the presumed scope of the project."

"Features? Like what? What were they doing?"

"Resistance to magical spells. Amplification of select spells. Even the ability to perform wand-less magic, although not in the true sense of the word. This is the first I've heard of a resistance to tracking. I must say, part of me is quite curious to learn how they managed that."

"And you didn't know this from the beginning?" Harry said incredulously.

"You must understand, Harry, that our roles were rather compartmentalized. At the time, I was known as something of a specialist on transfiguration and alchemy. Thus, my parts in the project were fairly narrowly defined. It was not uncommon for me to produce a given result without ever actually knowing what it was for."

"You had an awful lot of trust in them then?" Ron said, leaning his hands on the Headmaster's desk as he attempted to soak up more and more of the story.

"It was, as some would say, still is in my nature to be trusting, even unto my detriment. Also, many of the aspects were concealed by false pretenses, which made perfect sense, until one had a holistic view of the project. A certain resistance to magic, for example, actually was necessary to protect the Muggle from the raw magical energy surrounding him or her during the early stages of the procedure. It never occurred to us until after the facts had come to light that we could have simply used magical paraphernalia to the same end. Part of that could be attributed simply to ah...blind spots, and compartmentalization, but as I have mentioned, we later discovered a good deal of it was intentional."

"So what did they get out of you?" Harry was starting to get a bad feeling.

"I will answer that, Harry, but know that I have suffered over the knowledge of my involvement ever since, and that I am ashamed that I didn't recognize the ruse at the time. Please understand that it is one of the very few moments in my life where I feel genuine regret for my actions.

"I received a letter one day from a very close acquaintance: a witch I'd known and trusted for many years. She expressed concern over the stability of the Muggles' bodies based on the amount and types of magic that we had imbued them with, and wondered if perhaps it could break down the body's inherent cohesiveness...in other words, if it would lead to an inadvertent manifestation of metamorphagus or animagus abilities. As you are aware, magic gone awry can have odd effects on the body. I promptly replied that, based on my calculations and what I knew of the procedures, there was no reasonable risk of that happening, and then to assuage her apparent concern, I listed some of the conditions that could resolve themselves into instability later on in the procedure.

"She replied with a letter including steps she believed would be involved in the latter phases of the project, and asked me to comment upon any which could cause such a risk, and just as she'd planned, I gave her all of the information she needed to ensure that their creations would have one of those abilities. It was due only to luck that the steps to provide an Ex Nihlo wizard animagus abilities were slightly less complicated than those used to produce a metamorphagus, although the chances of an inadvertent infusion of such abilities actually favored the traits of the metamorphagus."

"So you gave them a way to create wizards, and not only wizards, animagi?"

"As I said, Harry, I'm not proud of the fact that my confidence and abilities were abused. Even though I later learned that she wasn't entirely knowledgeable of what she was doing herself, there had arisen such a great rift that it was virtually irreparable. To this day, her daughter does not know of her duplicity, and if she did I'm afraid that I would lose one of my dearest and most loyal of friends."

"So then the real question is who picked this thing up after you and your friends quit, isn't it?" Ron asked. He seemed to have grasped the situation, and was now becoming curious.

"Mister Colier indicated that he didn't know those responsible," Dumbledore replied.

"Do you think it's the same people you were involved with?" Ron replied.

"I wouldn't hazard a guess, Ronald. On the one hand, they obviously know many of the procedural steps and processes we worked so hard on cataloguing. On the other, we never discovered who, if any one single person was behind it all the first go-round."

"So do you think it's Lord Voldemort, then?" Ron asked, posing the question that Harry was wondering himself.

"No, Mister Weasley. Most European wizards don't like to spend time in America. They find Americans, Muggles and Wizards alike, a bit too vulgar and-how should I say...coarse?-for their tastes. Consider how Wizards here view blood and family lines, and then consider that on a whole, the Americas have less than a four-hundred year modern history. It is unlikely that those who place such a value on pure blood will find many allies and pleasant conversation there.

"Furthermore, Voldemort hates Muggles, squibs, half-bloods, and in general, everything that program stood for. I'm quite certain he wouldn't deign to that level simply to produce what are essentially magical Muggles. It is possible Ronald, but I highly doubt it."

"I saw Connor in the forest talking to another wizard," Harry said, relishing the look of surprise on Dumbledore's face. Some times it was nice to see he didn't know everything. "One that was a giant cat when I saw him. I'd call that a big deal; even it's not Voldemort."

"There are beasts that have not been seen in hundreds of years that roam our forests, Harry. That is but one reason it is forbidden."

"So it's just a coincidence that one is after Colier then?"

"Perhaps he feels a kinship with some of them. Professor Hagrid has befriended many...beings of questionable intent, as I believe you know." Ron shifted and blanched a little. He was probably remembering Aragog and the cave full of giant spiders, which had scared him half to death.

"Connor told me it was the one who already killed this Lyall person."

Dumbledore pursed his lips and paused as mysterious devices arrayed on the tables around him whirred, ticked, or even talked to themselves. The pictures of the previous head masters were silent, but most seemed to be paying keen attention. Finally, Dumbledore took a deep breath. "This is very distressing news. I allowed Mister Colier to attend Hogwarts because I felt at some level responsible for what had happened to him. If another Ex Nihlo wizard is prowling the country-side, it could put students at risk." Dumbledore took a deep breath and tapped his desktop for a few moments. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid I will need some time to consider the particulars of this situation. I ask that you continue to offer your support to Mister Colier, and that you keep our discussion private."

"That's it then?" Harry asked incredulously. Professor Dumbledore paused and looked at Harry with a heavy air of authority.

"That's not it. If I feel students at Hogwarts are in jeopardy, I may have to expel him. If that happens, is very likely that I will be sending him to his death. That is a decision I do not take lightly." The Headmaster leaned over his desk and hastily scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. "You may give this to Mister Colier. It simply informs him that you are entrusted with the knowledge of his...situation, and that you have my full confidence. Accordingly, he will find that he can discuss it with you freely. I imagine that will ease his mind...it has been a heavy burden." He handed the note to Harry, who stuffed it in his pocket as he arose.

"Thank-you," Harry said, turning to go.

"Harry."

Harry paused and turned, with Ron on his heels.

"I have told you far more than you needed to know so that you can help me. If you see anything, anything at all which you feel is noteworthy, I expect you to inform me directly. You have several means at your disposal."

"I will, Headmaster."

Harry spent all of the rest of Sunday and all of the following Monday trying to sort through the whole Connor situation. So far, Voldemort had been almost non-existent this year, and he still felt as though he hadn't a moment's rest. He was frankly at a loss as to how everything that had happened so far fit together. Walken was always going off about everything being connected. Harry was seriously considering creating another causality cloak just so he could try to come to grips with everything.

By Tuesday night, he was resting in bed, idly playing with the Chansonarc, and watching his tiny flame dancing in its bottle. The Marauder's Map was laying open beside him, and at times he'd glance at it. Walken was just walking into McGonagall's office, and the rest of the castle seemed inordinately quiet. The students were apparently taking a night off; the hallways were clear and even the astronomy tower was empty.

Harry found that he wasn't bad at the Chansonarc, though he didn't think he'd ever master it. He was trying to decide whether to entertain dreams about becoming a famous musician, but he was leaning towards the life on anonymity...he could still impress birds without being famous. Movement on the map drew his attention. Harry glanced down.

A dot marked PETER PETTIGREW was in the hallway leading to Professor Walkin's office.