Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know! (though a review/comment is always better, even if it's only a few words)
Posted February 20, 2014.
SUMMARY: Officials from the American Department of Magic visit the Commonwealth's ministry of Justice, resulting in Britain's minster of Magic receiving an unwelcome dressing down by his American counterpart;a funeral is held for Savos Aren; and Harry and his circle return to Hogwarts after a distressing letter from Hermione, resulting in complications...
18: GROUNDED
September 13 – September 24, 2005
It was late afternoon before Harry at last stirred. Indeed, the past few days had been more than remarkable, and not in a good way. To date, the events were categorized as perhaps some of the worst he had experienced in his young life, and that was saying something, all considering.
Pulling back the curtains to his compartment, he found all of his visitors still present, gathered around the table. Justin was also awake and among them, but the others were still asleep.
"How you feeling?" Justin asked, as Harry pulled up a seat.
"Well enough, I guess. Everyone else is still asleep I take it."
"I had healer Ferris look in on Mazhe, he looked like death warmed over. Given the power of the... artefact you lot have. He is lucky he still has his magic," said Guardian Elaine, pursing her lips.
"Pup, after this, Voldemort will be a cake walk, I think," said Sirius, shaking his head, "Merlin's beard..."
"Last thing I'm thinking about right now, Sirius," answered Harry, with a frown. He then smirked.
"'Course, I would love to see him face Morokei, or whatever it called itself. Always something larger in the food chain, or something like that, right?"
"You still have the mask you collected?" Remus asked.
"Yeah."
Harry reached into his rucksack, and retrieved the mask. It was made of some sort of metal most seated around the table had not seen before, giving off a muted blue sheen. He slipped it on, and as expected, the hood instantly appeared.
"Fascinating. You look rather intimidating," said Justin, shaking his head.
"And I'm keeping it. It was a hell of a fight to claim it."
"No one said you couldn't," said Will, "It does astonish me as to just how much trouble you get yourself into though."
"I don't do it intentionally!" Harry exclaimed, removing the mask and putting it back in his rucksack. "Gods. We lost some great people the last couple of days."
"As we saw," said Elaine, "Savos Aren was a great man, and will be missed. Even amongst ourselves."
"He was a mentor to me... to Mazhe too. He was what Dumbledore should be—and really I shouldn't even dare compare the two. Savos had integrity, he was honest with me when I asked questions... didn't keep me in the dark about things, y'know, the qualities a leader is supposed to have."
"But you also saw he most certainly had his own secrets," Justin pointed out, "Remember those... shades?"
"He had a good reason though. As dark as it was... I guess... he had no choice. Knowing what sort of man he was... what he did to his colleagues and friends probably haunted him to his grave, and likely beyond. I would almost bet a bag of Galleons his ghost walks in Labyrinthian now."
"The undead you encountered in... Saarthal, was it?"
"Jyrik Gauldurson. There was some sort of writ of sealing... hold on a moment."
Harry again dug into his rucksack, and pulled out the parchment Mazhe had collected from the powerful Draugr.
"Be bound here, Jyrik, murderer and betrayer. Condemned by your crimes against realm and lord. May your name and deeds be forgotten forever. And the charm which you bear be sealed by our ward," he read.
"Condemned in memory. Whatever that dude did, it was really bad," said Justin. "They wanted him stricken from memory."
"Considering it almost killed Tommy. And it was strong. Much stronger than any Draugr we've seen before," said Harry. "Even after we broke whatever shield it was using. Completely immune to magic, cycling between fire, frost, and shock. Never seen anything like that before."
"Thing is, you have to remember that you know of magic from not one, but two worlds, Harry. And, you are at the point where you should be able to improvise, am I right?" Elaine questioned.
"Somewhat. In the heat of battle, I sometimes forget things."
"As you practice you will get better at it. You have an advantage over a good number of people back in our own world," Brandon pointed out, "Now getting tunnel vision can end up a handicap, so you need to practice using both skill sets."
"Yeah, you're right."
Harry blew out a breath.
"I guess if anything this was a stark learning experience. We... did okay. Made it out alive, stopped Ancano from blowing everything to Oblivion... but Brandon is right. Still got lots to learn."
"The most important thing is, you made it out safely and in one piece. In any event like this, it's the best we can hope for," said Remus, "You take what you experienced as exactly that: experience. Learn from it, grow from it."
"I know, Moony, I know."
Tommy's birthday was on September 15, and that resulted in a small party on board the Ragnar—it was thought that holding any sort of party at the College might be considered callous, given the loss of a few days prior. Only the other members of the circle were present, as were the pair of S.O.U. members, although their participation was even further limited.
Even with the different location, the event was somewhat subdued, and clearly, had the man of the hour had his way, there would have been none at all. However, even he realized that perhaps it was best to have something to celebrate, if only to lift the dark cloud that had descended upon everyone.
Birthdays, however, do also mean gifts, and although he didn't receive too many, they were all either special or useful in some way. Mazhe presented him with a jewelled amulet which he had enchanted himself.
"This should help next time you get blown across the room by a dragon shout," he smirked, handing over the small package. "The enchantments help you to rapidly regain your health, stamina, and magic—well, maybe not magic in your case, but..."
"Uh, thanks," Tommy said, pulling the amulet out of the small box. "Bit expensive."
"It's nothing."
"C'mon guys, you know what he gets into," Justin smirked.
"Actually I made that one," Mazhe answered, honestly, "For an occasion like this, it was made honestly. I got Balimund to help out with the chain, but I forged the amulet itself."
Tommy simply smirked, and secured the amulet around his neck. He felt it instantly get warm, as it came in contact with his chest.
"Guess it's our turn, then," said Brandon, as he and Eric finally joined the conversation, "Given the training you've already received, her majesty has passed on this little token of her appreciation, for you helping Harry out."
Brandon pulled a small package out of his utility vest and set it on the table. He then drew his wand and tapped the package, at once restoring it to its original size. It also changed its shape into that of a large duffel bag, something like Tommy had seen plenty of times before. There was a letter resting on top of it, and that was the first item he opened.
Dear Mr. Riordan,
May this day bring many happy returns, a moment of clarity in the storm that surrounds you and the circle which you have become a part of. It is to that sentiment that We turn, in recognition of your great service to Our ward and by extension, Our realm.
It is therefore with Our greatest gratitude, that We name you an honorary member of Our Special Operations Unit, granting you all the privileges and status it entails. We are assigning Lieut. Commander McAllister to see to your additional training, in the hopes that one day that title will be more than honorary. That, We do leave up to you.
Happy birthday, and many happy returns,
(An elegant signature was penned here)
H. R. M. Queen Susan II
"It's Conlon from now on," said Tommy, looking up from the letter.
"Finally made peace with things," Harry guessed.
"Yeah. Something like that. This... this is real nice."
"We ran the idea by Mrs. T., and things went from there," said Eric, "The gear in the bag is our standard kit. We'll help you go over the contents later on."
"Well. Uh, thanks. But... Don't you have to be... uh, magical?" Tommy looked confused.
"No. Definitely not. Now most of us are, but we have a few guys who aren't. Trust me, the toys we have to play with more than make up for lack of magical ability," Brandon explained.
"Guess I'm up, then," said Harry, producing a folded parchment. "I know you're not so much into material things, but I know this will help in a different way. The Commonwealth's attorneys weren't interested in helping me out on this, but Sirius was more than happy to. He hired attorneys who were able to recover the prize money from the SPARTA tournament which you should have received given... well..." He slid the parchment across the table.
"Yeah, I know. Thank you, Harry."
Tommy was clearly more appreciative of this than he was of the other gifts, and Harry knew it wasn't for the fact it made him nearly five million dollars richer. He knew Tommy would most likely send all but a small portion of it to Mrs. Fernandez, keeping a promise he made to her well over a year prior.
"Guess I never really said this," said Tommy, at last making eye contact with Harry. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Helping me get my head again."
"Oh. Well, you're welcome," Harry grinned, at last understanding.
The man sitting across the table from him had changed somewhat in the ten and a half months he'd been a member of the circle. He still visited with healer Ferris once a week, and that would likely continue for some time yet. However, Tommy was in a much better place mentally, and it showed. He had gained something in Harry and his circle; something he had lost at the end of October the year last—family.
September 16, 2005
Office of the Minister, Ministry of Justice
Trevelyan
The minister for Justice was most displeased to find two officials from the American Department of Magic waiting for him, as he stepped into his office first thing that morning. They had arrived with three crimson-robed Aurors in tow, and the lot had harassed his secretary for nearly three quarters of an hour, the time it took for him to get to the office. He schooled his features.
"Good morning. If you will join me in the conference room."
He indicated a door to the right of the reception desk, and a quick nod to his secretary had her picking up a telephone receiver. The small delegation filed into the indicated room, with the minister following behind.
"Now then. I do understand there was some urgency in this meeting, but to summon me an hour early to the office?"
"I am Chuck Ellis, this is Ethel Green. We're from the American DMLE, sent here with business concerning Thomas Conlon."
"I see. Have a seat," said the minister, indicating seats at the large conference table.
Mr. Ellis and Ms. Green took up the offer and made themselves comfortable, while the trio of Aurors simply took up positions about the room. Nathan scowled in his head, meanwhile. He knew this sort of thing would come about eventually, what with the rumblings in the ICW. He still had to look the part, however. He stuck his head out the door.
"Natalie, d'you mind summoning the file on Mr. Conlon?"
"Right away, sir."
"It shouldn't take too long," he said, speaking to his guests.
"Don't you employ house elves to do stuff like that?" Ms. Green asked, curious.
"No. But we have something that's almost as fast. Sometimes faster."
Sure enough, less than a minute later, the secretary entered, bringing what looked like a tablet of some sort.
"That's a file?" Mr. Ellis looked intrigued.
"Computer tablet, actually. We don't keep paper records much anymore."
"But doesn't the magic interfere with it?"
"No, because this actually runs on magic," Nathan answered, hiding a smirk that threatened to take over his face. Dr. Fraser was doing some truly amazing things back in his department, and now the entire government was beginning to benefit.
"If we could get to the purpose of this meeting then," said Ms. Green.
"Indeed."
Nathan skimmed the electronic file, although he was already well-aware of the details. Someone awarded political asylum by prerogative powers, he made damn sure he knew of the details—for exactly the situation which now presented itself.
"Mr. Blake, it is the American magical government who is responding, since Mr. Conlon is an American citizen. The International magical body has impressed on us that it is our responsibility to deal with this matter, and so this is why we are now in your office," said Mr. Ellis.
"The International Confederation is concerned about several issues, the largest being a loose cannon being allowed to associate with an individual critical to the survival of the magical world. Secondly, Mr. Conlon is now wanted by both the non-magical American military, as well as the English magical government." Ms. Green picked up.
"For that reason, we, on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards, are here to collect Mr. Conlon, and return him where he belongs, so that he may be properly dealt with, and ensure that the saviour of the wizarding world is not influenced negatively by his presence." Mr. Ellis finished.
Nathan could not contain himself, and burst out laughing.
"I don't see what could be amusing, Mr. Blake," said Mr. Ellis, scowling.
Nathan had to take several deep breaths in order to calm himself.
"Sweet Merlin, you have to be joking," he finally said, "Do you not realize how ridiculous that sounds? I was beginning to have doubts in the sanity of the ICW. This just removes all doubt. Gods."
"This is not a request, Minister Blake," said one of the Aurors, gravely.
"You believe a single non-magical individual is a threat to the boy-who-lived? That's the gist of your argument here?"
"It is the bulk of the Confederation's concerns, yes," said Ms. Green.
"Regretfully, you won't be leaving with him, let alone seeing him," said Nathan, "First off, had I known exactly what it was you were demanding a meeting with me regarding, I would have flatly denied it. The Commonwealth of Valicadia has no working extradition treaty with the American Department of Magic. That alone leaves any demands you bring to our borders null and void. Second of all, even if we did have such a treaty in place, Mr. Conlon has been granted political asylum by her majesty's prerogative powers, in effect since he set foot in the country on October 31 of last year. Her orders supersede anything my office could ever muster. So, if you would like to attempt to seek an audience with her majesty, you're quite welcome to do so. But as far as my office is concerned, we cannot and will not be handing Mr. Conlon over to your custody. Now if that's all, you can kindly show yourselves out."
The American representatives sat there, mouths agape from the very blunt and direct rebuke. It was also information, information they should have had before wasting an international floo trip. "Political Asylum" meant the end of whatever witch hunt the ICW had cooked up. And, considering the terrifying firepower the Commonwealth possessed, it was more than likely they would back up the claim with force.
The Americans most certainly possessed a formidable fighting force themselves, but to go toe to toe with something such as the Ragnar? Hands down, it was the largest moving object ever built by humans, nearly double the length of the largest American aircraft carrier. Their appearance the previous November over Scotland had been their coming out party in a way.
The most important thing now, was to relay the Commonwealth's response back to the Confederation. It would then be up to the Confederation as to how to proceed next. Really, though... did the international community truly want to pick a fight with an unknown?
Office of the Minister, Ministry of Magic
London
"Secretary Jordan—Sander. Merlin's beard... do come have a seat," Fudge invited, surprised at finding his American counterpart being ushered in by 'Wetherby'.
"Thank you, Cornelius," answered the the tall wizard, as he was shown to a seat off to the side of the office, meant for less-formal meetings. Fudge took the seat opposite.
"Would you like tea? Or coffee, if my recollection is right?"
"Coffee would be fine, although my visit is rather brief, as I do have a sub-committee meeting in just over an hour."
"Weatherby! Tea and coffee!"
"Right away, sir," said Percy, and he hurriedly left the office.
The two leaders chatted on about unimportant things for a few minutes, until Percy returned bringing a service. With tea and coffee served, Fudge moved things along, knowing how his counterpart worked. There was a good reason Secretary Jordan was in his office.
"What brings you to London this afternoon?"
"Straight to the point. Good, good," answered the wizard.
Being the American Secretary for Magic going on eleven years, he appreciated the no-nonsense approach.
"This morning, our DMLE sent representatives to Trevelyan with regard to Thomas Conlon."
"The Muggle Harry Potter is in the company of these days."
"Yes. The individual your government seems to have it in for these days, never mind for Mr. Potter himself," said Jordan, idly stirring his coffee. "The International Confederation impressed on us that it was our responsibility to see that Mr. Conlon is removed from Mr. Potter's company, for, I quote, the safety and security of our future, un-qoute."
"For exactly that reason, Sander. The boy—man is dangerous. He attacked the Hogwarts headmaster in front of nearly a thousand witnesses in February. It made the front page of the Prophet, not to mention a great many international papers, completely overshadowing the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. It was—"
"An embarrassment to your ministry," Jordan finished, giving Fudge a hard look. He took a sip of his coffee.
"Way I understand it, the kid was furious at the underhanded method by which he was used during the task. I can't fault the boy in the least given the circumstances. He's not magical, and simply lashed out with the resources he had at hand. What I hear, the headmaster had to have his jaw reset and his teeth regrown."
"We will not be made a fool of!" Fudge blustered, "That filthy Muggle made a fool of the Hogwarts headmaster!"
"And WE will not be made a fool of either, Fudge!" Jordan snapped right back. "This morning, we were made a fool of. Did you know that the subject of your little witch hunt has political asylum? Our representatives were most displeased to realize we had been sent with only half the facts."
"But..."
"But what, Cornelius? You and your ministry are already drawing the ire of the Commonwealth of Valicadia. Do you wish to draw ours as well?"
"Well, I..."
"What's the Hogwarts motto—never tickle a sleeping dragon, something like that? That's exactly what you're doing with the Commonwealth of Valicadia. We know nothing of their military strength—although if the HMS Ragnar should be anything to gauge by, they are a force to be reckoned with. A piece of advice, Cornelius. Drop the witch hunt against Potter and his friends, 'fore the Commonwealth reacts in a way that can only end very badly for Magical England."
"But... the ICW will never stand for it!" Fudge sputtered, "We are sworn to protect each other!"
"Not against stupidity," answered Jordan, "Seriously. To ignore what's going on, that's just stupidity. My government, the Canadian ministry, the Brazilian ministry—as well as at least a dozen other magical nations—we all agree with the Commonwealth. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, Tom Riddle is back. Burying your head in the sand and pretending won't make him go away. Nor will conducting a witch hunt against the very individual destined to deal with him for good."
"Now see here—"
"No, YOU see here, Fudge. The American Department of Magic will not be made a fool of. Draw us into your underhanded business again, and you will not like the consequences."
Fudge could only sit there, mouth agape, as his counterpart sat the half-finished mug down, stood up, and stormed out of the office. They had to be lying! All of them! Lucius had told him—reassured him—the rumours were exactly that, nothing to base any sort of fact on! But more than a dozen magical governments? He was being pulled in what seemed like six different directions, and he didn't like the sensation one bit.
Sundas, 18 Hearthfire, 4E200 / Sunday, 18 September, 2005
College of Winterhold
The funeral for Savos Aren was held in the courtyard of the College. It would be the first of several to mark the passing of a few remarkable people. Everyone was in agreement that things could have been a lot worse, but that sentiment did nothing to lessen the impact of the loss. Savos Aren had been a mentor to Harry in a number of ways, particularly early on, when he'd first arrived in Skyrim. That connection had lessened as the young wizard found his feet in the foreign land, but even up to the disastrous events of a few days prior, Harry had still considered Savos to be somewhat of a grandfather.
As Tolfdir lit the funeral pyre, not an eye remained dry in the gathered group. Even the weather on this day seemed a little more glum than usual, and the warmth of the air only brought drizzle in place of the snow that usually fell. It was as if the Gods were sharing in their grief.
Harry was only more than glad to retreat back to the Ragged Flagon with Mazhe once the funeral was concluded. Though he didn't wish to admit it to himself, he was still suffering from shell shock. The whole escapade had unfolded over a number of days, but really, he couldn't even begin to try and separate one from the next. It was a blur of disastrous incidents, all brought on by a power-hungry Thalmor bastard. It was no wonder the Nords despised them so much—this was a glaring example! Harry would never forgive the lot of them.
"To Savos Aren," said Mazhe, raising his tankard aloft, "A great man and a great wizard, you shall be missed."
"To Savos," Harry repeated, copying his best friend's actions. The rest of the circle mirrored his action, and all drank deeply. It was the third round at this point, and so the pain had been somewhat dulled.
"Y'know. I wish I could burn every last one of them," he declared, and downed the remainder of the tankard.
"More than a lot of people agree with you, Harry," said Mazhe, shaking his head. "Remember, we're only a few against their many. The Aldmeri Dominion forced the Empire to submit—"
"Yeah, I know... White-Gold Concordat. I know my history, Mazhe."
"And if Ulfric Stormcloak has his way, they'll drive both the Empire AND the Thalmor out of Skyrim for good," said Mazhe.
Delvin threw in his two cents, seated at his usual table. "Wars, not good for business."
"Thalmor aren't good for the health of non-elven races either," Mazhe muttered, "They'd like nothing more than to exterminate the lot of us... and given the chance, that's exactly what they'll do. Coin ain't worth nothing to any of us if we're dead. The day Ulfric starts any offensive against the Empire, I'll be heading to Windhelm to help out. To avenge my parents, and indirectly, avenge this... our loss a few days ago."
"Sounds like a plan. Vekel! Another round!" Harry called.
"Harry..." Justin looked uncomfortable at the idea.
"What? This dragon shit lost me a mentor, the college a leader... They struck at one source of stability in my life, is it not right that I make them hurt?"
"Revenge leads down a dark path, even you know this."
"Y'know what I truly wish? That Savos and Dumbledore could be switched somehow—thanks." Vekel had placed another platter of tankards at the centre of the table, and was then collecting the empties. "Savos wouldn't put up with half the things that go on at Hogwarts."
"No, definitely not," Mazhe agreed, "That blatant favouritism by Professor Snape?"
"Yeah."
"Savos would've likely cursed him several times over first time he heard of that sort of behaviour."
Harry blew out a breath, and took another drink. "Doesn't matter now. The College won't ever be the same. And I won't ever trust the Thalmor ever again."
"Harry. Just... don't do anything rash." Justin looked uncomfortable with the dark direction of the conversation. "Last thing you need is to get in trouble with the law. Given you're nearly of age here and all."
"Justin... just... I know that!" Harry exclaimed, "Gods, I'm not stupid!"
"I didn't suggest you were. But you do act rashly sometimes."
"Right. Point conceded. Thing is though, whatever Mazhe decides to do, it's a fair likelihood I'll follow suit. 'specially on this matter. If the Jarl of Windhelm plans to go to war with the Empire, count me in. If it means striking back at the Thalmor, then all the better."
"Really don't think it's a good idea, Harry... but... if that's what you wanna do, I'll always have your back," Justin promised. "Just as much as Tommy or Mazhe... But you know Ulfric's a racist ass, right?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Harry looked at Tommy. "You're being rather quiet."
"What needed to be said was said already," Tommy answered, with a shrug. "Whatever you wanna do, man."
Justin shook his head. "'course you know, Will and Alice are gonna have lots to say, right?"
"They might. But really. At this point, there's not a whole lot they can do to stop me."
"Guys, it's not happening tomorrow anyway. Ulfric's still gathering supporters. It could be a few years yet before he really dares," said Mazhe.
"I can wait." Harry took another drink. "Just like a certain Dark Lord we all know of. The opportunity will present itself. And it'll be over. I'll be done with that sodding prophecy. I'll leave the wizarding world for good, come here to stay. To grow old amongst friends, rather than be treated like a chess piece."
Rather than return to the College, the group once again returned to the Ragnar. The events surrounding the College were still very much an open wound, and all were in agreement that perhaps some time away would be a good thing. Mid-morning found the young wizard seated in front of the fire, still in a partial haze, as the terrible memories still replayed themselves endlessly in his mind's eye. The College would never be the same.
Harry slept restlessly that night, plagued by new, frightening nightmares of the past few days' events. It was only to be expected, considering he'd lost a mentor, and nearly lost someone he now considered a dear friend. One of those dreams, however, stood out.
Harry found himself amongst his circle, fighting back-to-back against a surge of what he at first believed to be soldiers from the Imperial legion. At least the armour looked similar. Perhaps they had been dispatched from the Imperial City in Cyrodil. The thing was, the surroundings were unfamiliar. It was warm—stiflingly warm. Catching a glimpse of himself, he found himself wearing armour that was unfamiliar as the surroundings were. It was a steel set with intricate carving, and if he were honest with himself, it was rather comfortable, the cloth and leather being soft against the skin, unlike most of the armour he'd worn up to this point.
In the chaos swirling around him, Harry caught a glimpse of another faction involved in the fight: men wearing far less armour than the Imperials. Bandits? Forsworn? No, definitely not Forsworn. Their choice of dress was rather distinct, and the people here were not dressed in that fashion.
"Bombarda maxima!" he heard himself cry, a hand thrust out in front of him. A blast of magic bloomed from it, to impact with the swath of Imperials, sending a great number of them flying, and opening up a clearing. Unfortunately, they still found themselves surrounded.
THWACK. An arrow embedded in the ground only a foot away, reminding him the enemy fought equally well at long range. Harry instantly threw up a strong shield he'd learned to cast that would keep out projectiles. It shimmered a purple shade, as more arrows slammed into it.
"Finally got it working?" Mazhe grinned, as he took another swipe at an Imperial that got too close.
"Yeah, about time," Harry agreed, as another barrage of arrows rained down on top of them.
Someone was speaking to his left, and for the first few moments, it was a different language, at least until what he suspected was a translation charm took hold. "...most useful. If only we could cast such protection over the others."
"Even our limited involvement here is dangerous, Taranis," Harry heard himself answer, "Shor's balls, Hermione's likely gonna read me the riot act as it is when she finds out."
"She'll understand-" POP, POP, POP. Three bullet holes now pierced the forehead of an Imperial who'd dared come a little close, courtesy of a pistol in Tommy's hand. "She'll understand, Harry. Not as if this shit happened on purpose."
"Hmmph. Particularly after what they did to Tommy," said Mazhe, as he charged up another blast of fire.
The scene swiftly changed. Tommy lay on the ground, a spear piercing his chest. Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.
"You look like shit," said Tommy, as Harry stepped into the dining room. He was just getting up.
"Feel like shit," he agreed, "Slept horribly, nightmares most of the night."
"I've got an appointment or I'd help you sort it out. We'll chat when I come back."
"Yeah. Er... thanks." Harry's head was still swimming at what he'd woken to not so long before, as he watched Tommy leave.
"I know where your head's at right now," said Mazhe, "The College is the last place you want to be."
The young mage claimed a seat right beside him, momentarily gripping him about the shoulder. At this point, the pair of them were alone.
Tommy would be out for most of the morning himself, having called healer Ferris for an extra session. Justin, meanwhile, had his own projects on the go, and so had left for his Ministry's satellite office, conveniently on board the Ragnar.
"You're right. But Gods, I don't want to be here either," Harry answered.
"You could run a few errands for Vekel."
"Right. A few people aren't exactly happy with us spending any sort of time in the Flagon as it is."
Mazhe gave Harry a weak smile. "Vekel's errands are typically fairly tame. And honestly, d'you really want to stay here?"
"I... guess."
"Besides, the guys like you. Delvin and Niruin wouldn't help you otherwise."
"I won't ever actually steal anything. That's just..."
"I know, Harry. Just trust me. There are other ways... things you can do for us. Come to think of it—"
They were interrupted as an owl dropped a letter in Harry's lap, and swooped back out from whence it came. Recognizing the handwriting on the envelope, he tore it open.
"Hermione?" Mazhe asked, also recognizing the handwriting.
"Yeah. Gods. We need to go to Hogwarts."
"What happened?"
"Ron's being a prat, and Hermione needs my ear."
"Better tell Brandon and Eric. They'll insist on coming."
"Yeah, I know. C'mon."
Harry stood up, and checked his pockets, making sure he had certain things, while Mazhe summoned Brandon and Eric, who had stationed themselves outside the suite's entrance.
From there, the four of them traveled by floo powder to the Three Broomsticks, and walked up to the school. Eric always went first, then used his mobile to let Brandon know it was safe from the other end. It was all part of the new safety protocols for traveling by floo powder. Of course, they could have just traveled directly to the school, but doing so would attract undue attention. Not that showing up at the school wouldn't.
"Really need to work on getting your friends away from this place, Harry," said Brandon, "The letter suggests miss Granger is unhappy here."
"Given they have another useless Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I can't blame her," Harry answered, as he pushed open the doors that led into the entry hall of the castle.
"Harry, hold on a sec. Something doesn't feel—" Mazhe began, but it was too late. The four of them were blinded by a tremendous blue flash of light.
When Harry came to, he once again found himself looking at the whitewashed ceiling of the school's hospital wing. His eyes darted to his right, and his head screamed in pain as he did so. Whatever happened, it had thrown him for a loop.
"Harry?" Mazhe asked.
He was sitting beside the bed, looking concerned. Both Brandon and Eric were wide awake and at his side, as were Ron, Hermione, and the twins.
"I... Gods, my head..." He found another pain-relieving potion being pressed into his hand. He consumed it at once.
"Harry... I'm sorry," Hermione apologized.
"It's okay, Hermione. Not your fault," Harry said, pushing himself into a sitting position, now that his head wasn't screaming out in pain. "What happened to us?"
"We have a crime scene unit investigating now, Harry," said miss Collins.
She and her colleague were on the other side of the bed. Mr. Sampson was busily writing notes on a tablet.
"Harry, my boy. I do apologize that you have experienced yet another terrible mishap while in the castle."
Of course, the whiskered wanker would be there. Professor McGonagall was also present, looking severe. It was clear she was more than pissed at the situation.
"Well, headmaster. This must be a new record," said Mazhe, a scowl forming, "Harry barely makes it through the front door of the school and he's attacked."
"When we find out who is responsible, make no mistake. The Commonwealth will be laying charges. We're through playing nice about this sort of thing," said Mr. Sampson.
"An enemy of Mr. Potter is an enemy of the Commonwealth of Valicadia. It's that simple," miss Collins added, "I echo my colleague's sentiments here. We're through playing nice."
"Whatever resources you might need from Hogwarts are at your disposal," said McGonagall, "Whatever my colleague here might believe, I am equally alarmed at the unfortunate number of incidents Mr. Potter finds himself involved in while in the castle."
"Minerva..."
"Don't 'Minerva' me, Albus! The boy barely sets foot inside the door and he's attacked? Imagine if this were one of Molly's children?"
"Mum would have a fit and then some," Ron muttered.
Harry shook his head. "Knowing Mrs. Weasley, she'd likely find a way to pull the lot of you out of here for good—given the draconian law in place here."
He smirked.
"Of course, the headmaster here would also likely get a really nice howler while he's at it."
"Yes, but I daresay, that isn't the case," said Dumbledore, giving Harry a sad look. "I do regret that this has happened. I was gravely concerned when Professor McGonagall informed me you came to be injured."
"Right. I really buy your concern, headmaster," said Harry, running a hand through his hair.
It was then the fireplace roared to life, and Justin stepped out of the flames, along with another S.O.U. member.
"Harry. Just got word. What happened?"
"We still don't know," Harry answered, as his friend and teacher joined the group.
"Alice let Tommy know what was going on, he'll be through in a few minutes. He was just about done with healer Ferris."
"Sorry I interrupted your day, guys."
"Don't worry about it. No matter what's going on, you're still my number one priority," Justin answered.
"Right." Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. How long am I here for?"
"A little more rest, and you should be back on your feet."
Madam Pomfrey finally made her presence known, directing her wand at her patient.
"No lasting injuries that I'm able to detect, though the four of you were found collapsed on the floor."
"Thank you." Harry rubbed his face with his hands. "At the rate things are going, I'm about ready to try a magical oath not to ever set foot in the castle ever again. This place is a danger to my health and that of my friends."
The fireplace roared to life again, this time expelling Tommy and Will. They stepped aside, as the flames flared a third time, and Alice stepped out of the fireplace.
"What happened?" Tommy asked, simply.
"Magical explosion of some sort," Mazhe answered, "We just stepped through the doors into the school when there was an enormous blue flash. Brandon and Eric were only knocked out for an hour or so, but Harry and I were out for a couple of hours ourselves. He just woke up."
"CSU on scene?" Will asked.
"They arrived an hour ago," miss Collins answered.
Alice gave Dumbledore a scathing look. "If there is an inkling you had something to do with this, so help me..."
"I assure you—" Dumbledore began.
"Save it! We don't know exactly what you're trying to prove, but really..." Will smirked. "I should also add, your attempts to have Mr. Conlon removed from Harry's circle was... rather inspiring. Most unfortunate it went nowhere."
Tommy gave the headmaster a murderous look. "That so?"
"According to a credible source, it was the headmaster here who's been squawking to the ICW about you being a dangerous influence to Harry. Indirectly, of course, knowing what sort of credibility he himself now has with the international body."
"How come we weren't told about this—never mind me in particular?" Tommy wondered.
"The matter was dealt with swiftly and quietly," miss Collins answered, "The Minister of Justice was not amused, I'll say that much. Come to think of it, the American Department of Magic weren't either. Again, from our sources, the American Secretary of Magic paid Fudge a visit the same day and raked him over the coals about it."
"You're walking a dangerous line, headmaster," said Mr. Sampson, "You keep at it, and it won't just be the Commonwealth and Voldemort you have to watch out for."
"I strongly doubt the Americans will go to war with us," said Dumbledore, dismissively.
"Whatever you want to believe, man," said Brandon, shaking his head, "But this shit, really... Harry only returned to the school to see to a friend. Instead of it being a simple thing, it ends up being a Charlie-Foxtrot."
"Charlie-Foxtrot?" George asked.
"Acronym for something I won't repeat here," Brandon answered, while Tommy smirked in between casting death-glares at the headmaster.
"It's nearly lunch time. I think Poppy has it in hand. We'd best see to the Great Hall," McGonagall decided, thinking it best to remove her wayward colleague before things got ugly.
"Be well, Harry," said Dumbledore. And with that, the professors left the hospital wing.
"Good riddance," Harry muttered.
After having lunch, the large group began to separate, with Alice and Will departing first through the fireplace, returning to Trevelyan. The crown attorneys were next, although they left by the door, to check in with the federal crime scene unit conducting the investigation in the castle's entry hall.
After spending some time with his friends at the school—the original reason for his visit, the group then made to return to the Ragnar by floo powder. Eric and Justin went first, followed by Mazhe, who took Tommy. Then, it was Brandon and Harry's turn.
"Ready?" Brandon asked.
"Yeah." He looked at his school friends. "Don't feel bad about this. It comes with being me I guess. Keep up the letters, they remind me there are people here worth saving."
"Harry..."
"Seriously guys. There aren't many of you. Best get off to class—don't you guys have Dark Arts Defence in an hour?"
"Thanks for the reminder, mate." Ron gave Harry a sour look. "The woman's a nightmare, but I know Hermione's already told you that right?"
"I know."
"We'd best be going," Brandon prodded, snatching up a fistful of floo powder from the pot which hung on the side of the fireplace.
"Keep your heads down, guys. She won't be here forever."
"Be safe, Harry."
Brandon flung the floo powder into the grate, calling out, "Ragnar, Harry's Guest Suite!" The pair of them stepped into the roaring green flames.
Harry had travelled many times by floo powder, and so by now knew exactly what to expect. This, however, was bizarre to say the least. It felt like a ride on an out-of-control broomstick. He felt Brandon take an extra firm grip on his arm as they were hurled around for what seemed like an eternity. It finally ended when they were unceremoniously dumped back out of the grate they had tried to leave by.
"Harry? What happened?" Hermione asked, alarmed. They hadn't quite left the room. Harry looked down at himself, and it looked like he'd been through a cyclone.
"They were eaten by the floo network," George sniggered.
"Guys. Not funny," Harry muttered, spelling himself clean and getting to his feet. Brandon was already on his mobile, letting the others know there was a problem.
Within a matter of minutes, the group was reassembled in the hospital wing, and less than a half-hour later, the group expanded to include an official from the Commonwealth's Ministry of Transportation, as well as an official from the English Ministry's Floo Regulation department. After all, a malfunctioning floo connection was a grave concern for all parties. In extreme cases, the results could be... messy.
Rather than risk using the floo at all, Brandon decided they should just walk to the gates and use a port key. Harry was somewhat frustrated, being delayed from escaping the castle yet again, but he had to agree. If the floo network was glitching for some reason, it was better to play it safe.
"We'll walk with you down to the gate," Hermione offered, but Harry shook his head. "You've missed enough class time already, right? I'll be fine, Hermione. Last thing I need is for you guys to get in trouble because of me."
"If... if you're sure."
"Positive. Now get going, the lot of you... though I could start casting tickling jinxes..."
"All right, all right, mate, sheesh!" Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
Harry actually let out a sigh of relief as he and the group exited the castle. He had somehow suspected Dumbledore would try something to prevent his departure.
"You look relieved," said Mazhe, as they started walking down the path toward the gates.
"Yeah. I was almost certain the old man would try something, y'know. This whole episode... felt wrong. I don't blame Hermione, but... we were ambushed within seconds of stepping inside the castle. Stuck in the hospital wing for hours. Then the floo doesn't work for me..."
"Harry, you and I are thinking exactly alike," Brandon agreed, "Even we were caught off guard. As it is, the pair of us are likely in for a dressing down when we file our report."
"I don't blame you guys."
"From here on out, when it comes to the school here, one of us will be in front of you when we first step into the castle."
"Unlikely—" Harry stopped. "Balls. I think I forgot... no, that's not it." He reached into his pocket for a moment. He started walking again. "Anyway, it's unlikely I'll be coming back here now. This just about tears it. I can meet with my friends from the school in Hogsmeade and during holidays."
He stopped again.
"I'm sure I forgot..."
"Harry?"
"It feels like... I left something back in the castle. But... no, I'm sure I didn't. C—come on, let's keep going. Sooner we get to the gates, sooner we can get back to the Ragnar."
Brandon frowned, but said nothing as the party started walking again.
"Guys, d'you think we might get back into our routine? I know it's only been a couple of days, but... normalcy might be a good thing."
"If that's what you want, Harry. Sure, I'm good for it," said Tommy. There were voices of agreement from the others.
"Good. Idle hands are the devil's workshop and all that—aaah!"
Harry winced as a wave of pain surged through his body from head to toe. This resulted in wands being drawn, as everyone believed Harry was being attacked somehow.
"Guys... it's... it's inside," Harry managed, dropping to one knee. The pain was still there, a slow, dull, throbbing ache.
"Where does it hurt?" Justin asked.
"Everywhere. A slow, dull, throbbing pain—aaaah!"
The pain flared again, making him want to collapse to the ground into a fetal position.
"Here. Pain-relieving potion," said Justin, pulling a vial out of his satchel. Harry hurriedly consumed it.
"Thank you."
The potion had the desired effect, and a minute later, they were moving again. Unfortunately, it wasn't to last, as only a few minutes after, an even stronger bout of pain wracked his body. It was accompanied by a powerful feeling of dread, a feeling he was doing something truly detrimental to his health.
"We have to turn around," Harry decided. "Someone check me for curses and cursed objects. This isn't right."
"Agreed. Brandon?" said Eric.
"All right. Stand still a moment."
Brandon produced his wand, and began to cast a series of strong detection charms. Being a member of the S.O.U., it was a requirement that at least one member of a deployed team have some warding and curse-breaking skill.
For a solid ten minutes, Brandon tried every detection charm he knew, without any results.
"Shit."
"Either there's nothing actually on you, or we're dealing with something above what Brandon knows how to detect," said Eric.
"Ten galleons on option B," Harry muttered, "It's Dumbledore. And come on, guys. Don't roll your eyes, you know his track record."
"Best let Ragnar know what's going on," Justin decided, "I'll let Will and Alice know so they can come meet us. For now let's just get back up to the school."
"Behind enemy lines," said Eric, "Tommy, you know that sort of protocol?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go to Hagrid's for now. I'm sure Fang might like some company," Harry decided, "Hagrid's likely got a class now."
A half-hour later, there came the thunder-like crack which announced the arrival of the Ragnar. This time, rather than appear over the Black Lake as she'd done the previous autumn, she appeared directly over the school's Quidditch pitch. That coincided with the ringing of Brandon' mobile.
"McAllister. Yeah... down by the gamekeeper's residence... Yeah, we could try. We'll be straight up." He hung up, and reached into his utility vest, producing a tennis ball. He touched it with his wand. "Portus."
Harry looked doubtful. "Still feels like I'm forgetting something."
"The Ragnar's on the school grounds. It should work," Brandon answered, "Get a finger on it, we go in ten."
With a blur of appendages, the group landed in Harry's suite aboard the ship.
"Shor's balls..." Harry muttered, feeling the aching sensation flaring up. The pain wasn't nearly as much as it had been as they neared the school's gates, but still prevalent.
"It still hurts." Justin said. It wasn't a question.
"Not as much, but..."
"We could probably get them to lower the ship's altitude, but she's already pushing safety limits as it is, being this close to the ground," said Brandon, a scowl of frustration crossing his face. "Anything under three hundred meters is getting too close for comfort."
"I appreciate the help, but... better they don't put Ragnar at risk," said Harry. "I'll... have to stay in the castle until we find a solution."
"Those, uh, rooms we had last fall... they were pretty nice," said Tommy.
"And McGonagall will be likely more than happy to help out with that," Harry remembered. "Let's get back up to the castle then. Or at least back down to the ground... this is really uncomfortable."
"And so we're clear. We'll be with you at all times. You don't visit the bathroom without one or both of us," said Eric. His tone left no room for arguments.
"Yeah. Um... I think I'll be staying around as well for the foreseeable future. I know Brynjolf was working on some sort of scheme in Markarth, but... you're more important right now, Harry," said Mazhe.
As much as Harry wanted to protest this extra attention and protection, he was at the same time warmed by it. His circle of friends and then some, were all standing up to shield and protect him against the at present unknown threat to his being.
"Back to Hagrid's, then," said Eric, producing another object, this time a golf ball.
The group did not travel up to the castle until the middle of dinner. It was decided that once again, the group would present themselves as a single unit. Harry donned his combat gear (which now fit him properly), while Mazhe went with his Guild armour (nearly black leather, with numerous pockets and pouches). Tommy, too, wore combat gear, although his was identical to that of Brandon and Eric. Even Justin had gone with protective armour which he had acquired during his travels with Harry and Mazhe. It was a full set of Nordic armour scavenged from a Draugr, which they had then been able to repair and restore. Mazhe had been able to enchant the curiass to provide a strong resistance to most magic.
The seven of them stepped into the Great Hall, and the noise very rapidly gave way to whispering and muttering amongst the gathered body. Harry simply ignored this as they passed up the isle, and came to a stop at the dais.
"Harry. It's good of you to—" Dumbledore began, but Brandon ignored him, and instead addressed McGonagall. They were all on the same page with regard to who was trustworthy at Hogwarts.
"Deputy headmistress. If we could have a word in private."
"Mr. McAllister, I'm sure—"
"Professor, we don't trust your colleague."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but pushed her chair back and rose. "Very well. Follow me."
"Minerva..."
"Albus, for heavens' sake! I believe I am more than competent in dealing with this party on my own," Professor McGonagall snapped.
"I believe I should be attending this meeting as well," said a squat witch seated at the far end of the staff table. She spoke in a breathless, girly tone. To Harry, she somewhat resembled a toad.
Brandon gave the witch a toothy smile. Harry had seen that expression numerous times before. It was usually followed by lots of pain.
"Your input is neither needed nor wanted, madam high inquisitor."
That had students whispering and muttering again, as the high inquisitor looked like she'd just been slapped.
"I'll have you know—"
"Do follow me," said Professors McGonagall, pursing her lips again, "I have this in hand, Delores."
In the anteroom, the deputy headmistress posed the question.
"Why is it you're still here, Potter?"
"I can't leave, professor. Something's preventing me from leaving the school's grounds."
"He was blocked from leaving by floo powder. Then, as we were walking down toward the gates, he doubled over in pain twice," Eric explained.
"That was after I started getting sensations like I was forgetting something back in the castle," Harry added.
"Professor, what we need is use of the guest rooms that were provided last fall, just until we can figure out what's going on," said Justin, "The government will likely be sending in a team of curse-breakers and warders, so we'll also be hooking up a floo connection."
"The rooms should still be in usable order. You may call on Musy, she will see to any other needs you might have," said McGonagall.
"Thank you, professor. Though it's likely I'll be having Dobby help me out here. I don't know what game is afoot here, but the less contact I have with people here, the better."
"I can understand your need for caution. However, my offer is open. Should you need anything additional, don't hesitate to come see me."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
"C'mon, Harry, best get up to the rooms and get things set up. We'll still need to get someone from Floo Management in."
The sun had long set by the time the fireplace had been hooked up to the floo network. Immediately after the official from Floo Management left, Alice, Will, and the two crown attorneys arrived in quick succession. This time pensive memories were reviewed from everyone, so the attorneys could understand what was going on. Copies of the memories were made, to be shared with other departments, including the Arcane Sciences department—the Commonwealth's version of the Department of Mysteries. As much as Harry hated the idea of his business being shared with so many people, he understood there was an end goal in mind. Extra pairs of eyes might spot something they were missing.
With his unexpected imprisonment at the school, Harry was forced to revise much of his training schedule. Given he still had his special chest, the morning exercise routine was easily kept. Somewhat of a silver lining, Cedric was able to join them again. The other three Triwizard champions had joined the group for training over most of the summer, but with the beginning of school, it was virtually prohibitive for the others to leave their respective schools.
His business back in Skyrim was another matter. He sent off three missives, each of them apologizing and explaining the situation: he would be unavailable to attend training for the foreseeable future. Additionally, a letter was penned to the College's new Arch-mage, with a similar explanation. Mazhe was more than happy to see to their delivery.
His academic schedule changed very little, however. His study material all came from Sir Malcolm Davis Institute as it was, and so that continued, although Harry was sure to inform the school what was going on. Equally, both Sirius and Remus, as well as Justin, were more than happy to continue to work as private tutors. Considering the set of rooms was practically a separate flat, Harry was very rarely outside of them. In addition, with Dobby's help, all the food was provided from the Ragnar. Something might have bound him to the castle, but that didn't mean he had to socialize with its occupants.
Of course, that didn't mean he didn't have visitors. Over the next few days, it became quite common for his school friends to visit after dinner. Harry had a strong suspicion Hermione simply enjoyed the less-noisy common room of his suite compared to that of Gryffindor tower.
It was after dinner on September 21, that Hermione asked Harry to restart his study group.
"She's a nightmare, Harry. Have you even seen our text book for this year?" Hermione asked, digging in her school bag, and pulling out the item in question.
Harry took it and looked at the cover. "Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard."
"Great reading, if you want a nap," Ron muttered, while Harry flipped the book open to a random page.
Ron wasn't joking. The material was dry and statistical, written for a much more mature audience. This wasn't something really appropriate for the age group.
"Gods... I've read enough advanced text books, and this—I would've walked out of her classroom within the first week."
"So you'll help out?" Ron asked.
"It'll likely be on the weekends again. Sunday afternoons, we'll use the same classroom—unless it's been claimed this year."
"Still unused, as far as I know."
"Pass the word to anyone who might be interested. Might as well make it an option to others, Harry," said Mazhe.
"No one who'll cause problems."
"We know that, Harry!" Hermione huffed.
"We can sort that out," said Eric, "Anyone causing a problem will be kicked out and told not to come back. That simple."
"And it's a given we'll be joining Harry at such meetings."
"Brandon and I will be with Harry at all times while he's in the castle. Just to prevent further incidents," Eric added.
"And knowing these guys, they'll likely have a few things to show as it is. And of course we'll be revising for O.W.L.s. I doubt she's even doing that much, if this is the text book," Harry muttered.
"You're right, she's not. She just has us sitting at our desks, reading from this dreadful text book."
"Worse," Ron added, "I heard a Ravenclaw third-year skived off her class. She assigned him a detention and now he's petrified of her."
Brandon and Eric looked at each other, the unspoken agreement on a private meeting to be had later.
On September 23, Harry got a welcome surprise as they finished up dinner. Mazhe had been away for part of the afternoon, but it became very apparent as to why. The fireplace roared to life, and Mazhe stepped out of it, with Brynjolf in tow. They stepped aside, and the flames again flared up, this time expelling Niruin and Delvin.
"Mazhe! Are you mental?!" Harry exclaimed, "Gods, if Dumbledore shows up—"
"But he won't be, now, will he?" said Brandon, nodding to the Maurauders' map which lay open on the table. The dinner dishes were just starting to vanish, but an ice chest filled with beverages of various sorts still remained.
"Gentlemen, come join us," Eric invited, indicating seats at the table. Harry, meanwhile, still glared at Mazhe. It was bad enough he was present... but adding others? Then again, how much time did Harry's circle spend with him in Tamriel?
He blew out a breath. It was still dangerous. Of the four who had just come through the floo, only two were actively magical. In all the time Harry had known Delvin and Brynjolf, he'd never seen either of them actually practice magic. It was no surprise for the muscular Nord, considering their suspicions surrounding the craft; Delvin, on the other hand, was a Breton, just like Mazhe.
Brynjolf snatched up a bottle of mead from the ice chest and popped the top. "Seems you've gotten yourself into another bind, lad."
"You could say that." Harry looked at his best friend. "Really. Should've asked first. It's dangerous."
"And you lot coming into our world isn't?" Delvin challenged, "It's a two-way current, is it not?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"How much has your schedule changed? Friday afternoons still good for 'ya?"
"Yeah. Been using my special room to practice on my own."
Harry leaned back in his chair, and then smirked.
"What?" Mazhe asked.
"Well... knowing this is a thousand-year-old castle... and considering the amount of... rather expensive artefacts that might be within its walls..."
"Harry..." Justin gave Harry a pointed look, not liking where his young friend was going with the conversation.
"What? The old man's stomped on my dick nerve AGAIN. So yes... where was I? Expensive artefacts, right. Accio map."
The Maurauders' map fluttered into Harry's outstretched hand.
"Show me Dumbledore." The map seemed to scroll to the headmaster's location, more specifically, his office.
"Convenient. The headmaster's office."
"It's password protected," Justin reminded.
"Dobby."
Pop. "Harry Potter sir call for Dobby?"
Harry grinned madly. "You wouldn't happen to know the password for the headmaster's office these days?"
Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "It is being 'Mars Bars'."
"Excellent." he thought for a moment. "How would you like to help my friends here 'acquire' a few items from the headmaster's office? I once heard him complain he had far too many things."
"Harry, seriously."
"Justin. I have had it up to-" he blew a hand over top of his head, "-here, with that sack of dragon shit and his schemes! I'm done! Robbing his office is the lightest of what I'd truly like to do to the man! Meddling old goat fucker..."
Both Brynjolf and Delvin couldn't help but laugh at the young wizard's outburst. Dobby was still looking up at Harry expectantly.
"When's the mark sleep?" Delvin asked.
"Not sure. Dobby? D'you have any idea?"
"Dumblydore is being working late mostly, Harry Potter sir. He bees up early, sleeps five hours at most. But Dobby is suggesting putting sleeping potion in his tea."
"That's brilliant! D'you mind?" The elf only nodded enthusiastically, and popped away.
"One other problem, Harry," said Eric, "You don't account for the school portraits."
"Invisibility cloaks."
"No. Better yet." Brandon reached into one of the pockets of his utility vest, and produced a small spherical object. "Drop that on the floor just as you open the door. It's a spell that works against magical portraits. It'll freeze them in place and stun their occupants for several hours."
"What would you need something like that for?" Mazhe wondered.
"Think about it," Eric answered, "Magical portraits might as well be live people. They're witnesses. When we're dealing with a mark, we take that into careful consideration."
"You mean murder. You work like the Dark Brotherhood," Niruin guessed.
"Uh, well... somewhat," Brandon answered, "The Dark Brotherhood in Tamriel isn't government-sanctioned, though, is it?"
"A fair assessment," Brynjolf agreed.
"The Special Operations Unit is at the express pleasure of the Queen. We act under her direct orders."
"Have... you ever... um..." Harry wondered.
"I've been part of five operations, two of them which I've actually led," Brandon answered, "And no, I won't tell you the who, when, or where. But you do understand that being part of such an operation is not something I take lightly. When we're assigned a mark, the nature is of national security. In most cases, the stability of the government depends on our action—and in the most extreme cases, the very life of her majesty."
"Counter-assassin," Delvin spoke.
"Exactly. The S.O.U. has a public, and a very private face."
"Much like the Guild," said Mazhe, "There are things the public knows. Then there are things that the public, um, sort of knows. Then there are things the public thinks they know." He leaned back in his seat, and took a long drink from his bottle of mead. "C'mon, guys, it's a standard Sweep job. Fuelled by revenge, but the Guild can only benefit."
"It's all right lad, he's got us sold," said Brynjolf.
Harry had laid the map back on the table, and the Nord was watching the small dots moving about with interest. "With that little item, it'll be more than safe."
"We can loan you guys a few additional items just to ensure there are no complications..." Brandon offered.
Saturday morning was not a good morning for Albus Dumbledore. Up to the previous evening, things had actually gone quite smoothly. Harry was back in the castle, and wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Sure, Minerva had let him have it on the issue, but, it was for the greater good. They would all understand eventually.
Then, there came the previous evening. The wards had notified him of three additional individuals visiting Harry immediately following dinner. The boy had mentioned something about outside tutors and the like, so that was likely it. The last thing he clearly remembered was having another argument through the floo with Cornelius.
That morning, he had woken up in his bed with no recollection of how he got there, hearing a commotion in the office. He'd hurriedly dressed, and stepped out into the office, to very quickly discover the reason for the uproar: his office looked practically bare. Sure, most of the books were still on the bookshelf, but anything else of value had vanished. That included a set of very important little gadgets that had rested on his desk, charmed to monitor a certain wayward boy. His office felt... empty.
"Merlin's beard."
"Quite a spot of trouble we have, headmaster," spoke the portrait of Armando Dippet.
"Grave circumstances, I agree. Thieves at Hogwarts. This hasn't happened in five centuries," spoke another portrait high up on the wall.
"Oh, I daresay thievery does happen within the castle's walls. Just not on this... scale."
Dumbledore's eyes finally came to rest on the up to yesterday unblemished surface of his heavy desk. A symbol had been scratched into it: a diamond, with a circle at its centre. He was perplexed, as he drew his wand, and attempted to repair the damage—he'd not seen this sort of symbol before.
The repair charm he cast had no effect, other than to make the symbol blaze red a moment. That did give him a clue as to who might be responsible, but...
"Did any of you see anything?" he questioned, simply.
"No headmaster, we were frozen and stunned for several hours last night," answered another portrait mid-way up the wall. Fawkes, meanwhile, let out a musical call that sounded like laughter, and Dumbledore could swear the bird was smirking at him.
Realizing it was nearly time to head to the Great Hall for breakfast, he gestured at himself and became instantly dressed in his customary robes. Still, he pondered the situation and who was likely responsible. A student? Or someone else?
He stepped out of the office, and turned to cast a strong ward on the door, only to stop. Carved into it, was yet another symbol. A circle, with a square inside of it, touching the edge of the circle. Attempts to banish the graffiti met with the same result as with the desk. It only blazed red for a moment, but remained, as if to mock the headmaster. No, it was not a good morning.
UP NEXT: After a series of decrees and restrictions interfere with the Commonwealth's protection placed with Harry, the Queen takes drastic steps to protect her ward.
CHAPTER NOTES: So, an explanation of the two symbols. Both are symbols of the Skyrim Thieves Guild. The first symbol (diamond with a circle neatly fit inside it) marks the Guild itself. The second symbol (circle with a square neatly filling it) indicates an empty mark (pass over this place, nothing of note here).
Normally, the Guild would not leave any sort of calling card. But this instance, the headmaster wouldn't have any clue what it meant, and it would drive him nuts. I should also point out, that most definitely, Delvin, Brynjolf, and Niruin would have had help from Harry and his friends to pull this off. They would have emptied his office of anything valuable, with the exception of the books and portraits.