Part VII – Pursuing the End
(**Start of 6th year**)
Appalachian High Academy, Guidance Counselors Office
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALBUS BLOODY DUMBLEDORE DOESN'T APPEAR TO BE DEAD?!" yelled Hermione, her bushy mane of hair looking particularly frizzy at the moment.
"I mean Miss Granger, that Albus Dumbledore has been spotted too many times, from too many different sources, in too many different locations for it to be mere coincidence." Remarked the man in a black cloak and hood dryly, his tone flat and unnatural, likely altered by magic.
"That article in the L.A. Prophet was true? The one about Dumbledore's zombie?" questioned Harry, appearing much calmer than his girlfriend. His hope of a peaceful school year in quick peril once more – nothing new there.
"Inferi Harry, there is no such thing as zombies." Lectured Hermione, not calm by any means but using her tried and true lecture mode to attempt to transition out of outraged mode, to gather herself.
"Mister Potter, Miss Granger," the Black Cloak looked between them, "it would appear that Albus Dumbledore faked his death and managed to escape Alcatraz prison. He is reported to be acting in his normal manner, and not that of a puppet. We are almost positive that he is not an Inferi." The man delivered this report in a calm monotone, as if he were stating there were overcast skies in the forecast.
Harry blinked slowly, unsure what his reaction should be.
Hermione had no such indecision. "This is a major story! Why hasn't this been covered by the news media?" she demanded.
"Some of the higher-ups didn't want to cause a panic. Albus Dumbledore escaped from Alcatraz prison over a month ago and seems to have showed nothing but a desire to flee the country. This is one scandal they wish to avoid splashing all over the tabloids."
"It's an election year, they don't want the bad press." Hermione stated knowingly, her chilly tone full of condescension.
The cloaked figure smirked within the confines of his hood. Miss Granger was dead on, even if he wasn't allowed to tell her that – politics should have no place in the judicial system.
Hermione continued, "I assume you are telling us as a warning… Do you have reason to believe Professor Dumbledore will try to attack Harry again? Surely, he won't attack the school again after what happened last time."
Miss Granger would be getting an offer to join the Black Cloaks full-time soon, just as soon as she graduated. An intellect like hers shouldn't be wasted in one narrow job field – he'd sponsor her himself.
"Yes Miss Granger. Mr. Dumbledore was of the firm belief that Mr. Potter must die to purge the horcrux from his scar. Even when told that the horcrux was gone he didn't believe us. The old fossil was too stubborn to accept that there was magic he did not know about. We are of the firm opinion that he will be coming after you again Mr. Potter."
Hermione was doing an irritated McGonagall impression, Harry just sighed tiredly – what could he do?
(**Meanwhile, in a castle far away**)
Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore slowly walked through his empty castle, mulling over the latest information he had gained.
He had happened upon an I.C.W. official in Hogsmeade earlier. The official had of course recognized him (his image was well known, even if his chocolate frog card was being pulled from circulation). The foolish man had attempted to detain him for questioning – Albus had been forced to resist.
The confrontation had been brief. Albus was by far the superior wizard. The only thing the I.C.W. official had in his favor had been his youthful endurance, and that had been a non-factor when their duel was decided in less than 10 seconds.
The young man had barely got off two spells, neither of which had posed any issue for Albus. The ancient wizard had nimbly side-stepped the first (a red stunner) and retaliated by transfiguring his opponents right, leather shoe into a heavy rock shoe. His opponent had immediately lost his balance and landed on his butt, where he tried in vain to hastily undo the master level transfiguration. While he was trying to do this, Albus had hit him with a red stunner of his own.
After subduing the I.C.W. official, Albus had taken advantage of the opportunity and used legilmency to pilfer through the man's mind. It had been chalked full of information on the current situation.
The I.C.W. was using Magical Britain to make a statement. A statement to the rest of the world that if the International Conference of Wizards was forced to act, they would, and it wouldn't be pleasant for any involved.
The British Ministry of Magic was basically being forced to foot the bill for its own punishment. I.C.W. enforcers, solicitors, and other various officials summoned to deal with Britain were drawing their greatly inflated, scaled wages straight out of the British Wizengamot coffers.
Substantial fines were being levied for endangering the Statute of Secrecy, corruption, bribery, racketeering, and a long list of other crimes. All of these together were decimating the British Magical financials and hammering the already poorly managed Wizengamot budget. What little liquid funds available would be depleted before the month was out, leaving Britain with no choice but to seek loans from foreign governments, or goblins – a choice between bad, or worse.
Not only was the fiscal economy crumbling, but the judicial and executive powers of the Wizengamot and Ministry were being gutted as well. All Ministry employees were furloughed, or as one I.C.W. official unashamedly put it 'on indefinite suspension, without pay, and without any hope of immediate re-employment'. All existing and proposed laws were under review. Any laws found to not adhere to the firm I.C.W. policies were automatically being stricken. Other policies and regulations were being reworded, or in some cases rewritten entirely to fall more in purview with international codes.
The British Wizengamot was now nothing more than a social gathering for old family heads who used to run the country through the old boys network. Up and coming Heirs like Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott would never enjoy the privileges or powers of their fathers and grandfathers. A fact Mister Malfoy was most vocal about… as he was going about seeking revenge on whoever destroyed Malfoy Manor.
Albus would circle back to this later, for mister Malfoy, and his thirst for revenge might have his uses…
Everything was changing. A fact that could be seen in the very halls he now walked.
It was September and Hogwarts was empty – no students or staff. The start of school had been delayed by a month so that I.C.W. certified professors and security could be hired. As far as he knew they hadn't bothered to contact any of the surviving previous administration. Hagrid, Poppy, Filius, himself, none of them. Sadly, Hogwarts was going to enter a new era, an era without himself or Harry Potter in attendance.
Harry would have started that blasted colonial school again today…
Curse Sirius Black and curse his wretched family! That mad man had ruined all his plans. Tom and most of his horcruxes were in the wind, Harry Potter was overseas, the I.C.W. was wrecking Britain, and he blamed it all on Black.
Albus took a deep, some-what calming breath.
At least he was no longer in jail. It felt good to be back on British soil.
He would have to reach out to Molly Weasley and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. He needed more information. Kingsley and young Nymphadora would be laid off at the moment, perhaps some private detective work could be arranged? Molly would know the latest gossip, and Mundungus, with his shady connections, was an invaluable member – especially in the absence of Severus.
It was time to pull some strings, he still had a mission to complete.
(**Two Weeks Later, America**)
Four Corners Field, Southwestern School of Enchantment
"Blatching! Blatching! Come on Ref, get some bloody glasses!" Shouted Sirius Black while zealously pointing at one of the smallest chasers in the field of play. The young Appalachian High Academy chaser was shakily recovering his balance and altitude after narrowly avoiding being body checked into the lower stands by a much bigger opposing beater.
The visiting crowd booed. They agreed whole heartedly with Sirius and let their opinions be heard.
The referee either did not share their judgement or, more likely, did not see the action from across the quidditch pitch. No foul was called, and the friendly exhibition match continued without interruption.
The Appalachian High quidditch coach was fuming and staring daggers at the referee as he waved his rookie chaser in for a substitution and a chance to recover on the bench. Harry slapped the kid on the shoulder sympathetically.
Sure this was just an exhibition match and the scores didn't really count – Harry would know, he had already caught the snitch twice – but everyone was focused. This was competition against another school, a chance to knock off the rust, try some new plays, and build some confidence. This was the opening act in what they all hoped would be a very successful quidditch season. They had the recipe for success: they had talent, they had returning experience, and they had the best darn Seeker in the country.
That last bit wasn't just Sirius' opinion either, the numbers backed it up. Harry hadn't caught the snitch in every game last season. (Appalachian High had played 15 league matches last season compared to the poultry three Hogwarts teams normally got.) But his catch percentage was an astounding 80%, by far and away the highest in the league. In fact, no professional Seeker in the world could match that number, not even Krum.
[Of course, to be fair to Victor Krum, and seekers around the world, just because you spotted the snitch didn't mean you always wanted to go after it. Subpar quaffle play could mean a loss or tie if you caught the game ending snitch at the wrong time. And Krum was now on a decidedly weaker team these days (probably due to how much of the team budget was spent on retaining the superstar). If Krum didn't secure an early catch, he was regulated to diversionary tactics most matches, until the game got truly out of hand, and he was given the green light to end it. Plus, as always, there would forever remain the element of luck when catching the snitch. Sometimes it just wasn't meant to be.]
Still, for the first time in decades Appalachian High Academy found its varsity quidditch squad considered a serious contender for the Cup. A top 3 preseason ranking was the highest in recent memory, and due in no small part to Harry.
From his spot on the bench, Harry watched his backup flying high across the pitch in a wide, slow figure eight search pattern. Too slow. The girl had good eyes, but if she didn't pick up her pace any bludger sent her way from behind was going to tag her easily.
With a wince Harry watched a beater from Southwestern channel his thoughts into action.
Ouch. At least the kid stayed on her broom and avoided falling off. And she was also flying a bit faster now, if in a drunken bumblebee pattern. She would learn. Pain is a powerful motivator, and there is nothing like a hard iron cannon ball impacting your body to teach you evasive maneuvers.
Remus Lupin, standing next to Sirius, also watched Harry's backup get hit. He wondered if the Appalachian coach was going to put Harry back in or not. There was no question that Harry was the superior seeker. Heck, Sirius had been approached by no less than half a dozen professional scouts already, and Harry still had another year before he would be eligible to play professional quidditch in America.
James would have been exuberant!
Remus looked over at the visitor's bench from across the stadium. From this distance, Harry could easily be mistaken for a young Prongs. The dark messy hair, the glasses, the quidditch attire and ease in which he handled his broom – it was like Potter men were born to fly.
With a pang of regret, Remus contemplated his deceased friend. The war had prevented James from ever pursuing a professional quidditch career. And after the war… Losing Prongs… and losing Padfoot and Wormtail at nearly the same time – his life had been one endless spiral downhill ever since. He had lost himself in his wolf, his misery, and he could only blame himself. He felt crippling remorse at what could have been… what he should have done.
He should have been there for Harry.
Blood wards and Albus Dumbledore be damned, he should have done something! Sirius had. Padfoot had done the impossible and broken out of Azkaban to protect Harry. And when You-Know-Who got a body back, and war was looking inevitable, Sirius hadn't hesitated to get Harry away.
Sirius had did what was right by Harry.
War was no place for teenagers, no matter what Headmaster Dumbledore said… or, more accurately, didn't say. The ploys of the aged Headmaster were becoming clearer and clearer, even if Remus was still missing some key pieces of information to tie it all together. The greatest wizard Remus had ever met, the sole reason he was ever allowed to attend Hogwarts, was determined to pull Harry back into the war. A war that had went mysteriously quiet…
The man in the stands next to him knew something about that, but Sirius was being uncharacteristically mum on the issue. Remus doubted that would last. The next time Sirius hit the fire whiskey Remus would be sure to bring up the topic. A decade in Azkaban had wrecked Padfoot's alcohol tolerance.
"Blatching! Come on Ref! You better check your prescription – your eyes need help!" yelled the notorious Azkaban escapee, once more, leaping to his feet to again point, shout, and generally act like one more crazy sports fan.
Remus smiled sadly and turned his attention back to the game.
(**Across the Ocean, One Week Later**)
The Hog's Head Inn and Pub, Hogsmeade
Albus Dumbledore surveyed the backroom gathering with a practiced, twinkling eye. His reputation might be taking a beating, he might be wanted by both the I.C.W. and most specifically the Colonial Ministry of Magic, but his sterling image remained unblemished in the eyes of these precious few (or at least he thought so).
The ancient wizard rose to his feet, and with the ease of a long-time instructor, he quelled the lesser conversations and drew the attention of his loyal supporters. "Thank you, thank you all for taking the time to join me today. I know you are all busy with important tasks, but I have come across some truly troubling news, news that I felt must be conveyed to you without delay."
Ironically Albus paused here, letting the tension mount appropriately. It felt good to be in on the action again, instigating it. He had a plan, and he was determined to get it underway. His audience was primed.
"It is with a sad and heavy heart that I must report to you the deaths of Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange."
Not one member present shed a tear, in fact a few shared almost feral smiles, or what passed for a smile from Alaster Moody. The scarred man absently patted his fake leg (the Lestrange brothers were responsible for him needing it).
"Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Thoedore Nott, Sr., Crabbe, Sr., Goyle, Sr., and Walden McNair also have passed from this world. Joining them are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Marcus and Tiberius Flint, Peter Pettigrew, and Thorfinn Rowle as well."
A few eyebrows rose at the inclusion of Pettigrew's name. Albus hadn't shared the facts of Black's case with his loyal syndicates. Some still mistakenly thought Black the 'Potter Betrayer'.
"Our dearest friend and colleague Severus Snape has also departed on his next great adventure."
Silence. No one present, bar perhaps Dumbledore, liked the grouchy Potions Master.
With a small hitch in his voice, Albus continued, "Augustus Rookwood and Adam Travers too. Other names are still unknown… But their losses will be felt by all. It is a sad and appalling day, that their lives were ended prematurely… truly a sad day in Britain with so many fathers, brothers, friends lost…"
If Dumbledore expected remorse or sadness from those gathered, he was sorely disappointed. To these people, those listed were their mortal enemies.
"Professor, that's great news!" Exclaimed Nymphadora Tonks, her hair brightening in color, as the worry for her parents safety decreased exponentially with the mention of her crazy aunt's demise. "Did the I.C.W. engage them at their safe house or somewhere else? When did they do this? I haven't seen any reports or mention of it. Will it be in the Prophet soon? Do you think they got them all or have any further leads? There are probably a few more Death Eaters and their sympathizers out there… the floo network employees at least need to be properly investigated."
Albus gave the young Metamorphmagus a disappointed looked. "My dear Nymphadora, these were witches and wizards who died, died unnecessarily before they had a chance to repent from their past actions and come to the light."
Nymphadora Tonks was not discouraged, a bit miffed at the use of her loathed first name, but not deterred. She was old enough to remember the terror those people had inspired in her parents when she was little. "But Professor, they were all Death Eaters!"
"Not all my dear, Severus was a Death Eater in name only. I assure you, he was loyal to our cause. And the others were still people, misguided individuals or not, they all deserved a chance to find the light and right the wrongs their misguided selves had accrued. They made youthful mistakes and strayed. I dare say there isn't a person here who hasn't made a past mistake. They deserved a chance at forgiveness, the same as each of us. You mustn't harden your heart so, my dear."
"I say we drink to their passing," growled Moody, agreeing with his protégé's outlook and ignoring Albus' look of irritation. "Who took 'em out anyway, was it the I.C.W.?"
"No." admitted Dumbledore. "A… a group from the colonies. Young Harry was among them."
Gasps and mutterings broke out around the room.
"Potter did it…" "Chosen One…" "Boy-Who-Lived saved us…" "Blimey, Harry Potter…"
"How did you come by that information Albus?" questioned the ever-paranoid ex-Auror. "Your I.C.W. position was taken away, and my understanding is that they want you for questioning."
Eyes twinkling, Albus was tight lipped, heavily implying that he still had unnamed connections with the I.C.W., but old man Diggle's expression gave him away. A unwavering cold hard stare from Mad-eye's electric blue magical eye had the cowardly old coot spilling the beans about crossing paths with a celebrating Remus Lupin in a pub. A deeply intoxicated Lupin who claimed that Potter and certain Unmentionables from across the Atlantic had blown up Malfoy Manor back in early summer.
All the Inner Circle Death Eaters, and You-Know-Who himself were reported as dead.
Jubilation filled the room, as the Dumbledore loyalists celebrated what they perceived as the end of the war. A war that had thankfully left them alive. Their happiness overrode their leaders somber, calculating expression.
Albus purposefully didn't tell them of the Hogwarts dead. Nor did he mention Tom's horcruxes, not with Harry still alive. But he had a plan for that, it was the real reason he had called the group together, and one look proved it was working.
In a dimly lit corner of the room, Mundungus Fletcher felt Lady Luck lining up to fill his pockets with gold, Malfoy gold. This was the break he had been waiting on! Young Malfoy would pay handsomely for this information.
(**Less than 3 hours later**)
Nott Manor
Draco Malfoy was no fool! Potter didn't have the stones or know how to take out his parents, to say nothing of the Dark Lord himself. The pathetic thief was lying, trying to take advantage of his perceived youthful ignorance.
Pilfer his gold would he – he didn't think so! Nobody took advantage of a Malfoy! With a snarl Draco stomped out of the room.
Mundungus, looked after the departing teenager with disbelief. He had the information straight from the mouth of Albus Dumbledore himself. Stupid kid! He wanted the money he was owed!
Mundungus Fletcher might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he could be keen when he needed to be. A chance at a small mountain of gold was just the inspiration he needed.
Sirius Black was the key, as the original source of the information. Him or Harry Potter. …but Remus Lupin would work in a pinch. And Lupin was confirmed to be on this side of the Atlantic. Lupin it was.
What did he know about Remus Lupin? The younger wizard was old beyond his years… His hair was already peppered with gray… he was reported to have been quite studious and responsible, a Prefect while in school… and he was a werewolf… a very poor werewolf judging by his normal attire, and societies loathing of the beasts. A responsible, poor cursed soul who would need to acquire a fresh potion before the next full moon, and Mundungus knew exactly where he was likely to go for his diluted Wolfsbane.
(**Meanwhile**)
Appalachian High Academy
Hermione studied the R.O.T.C. flyer critically. "We should put together a team and sign up for the capture the flag tournament again. Some of your quidditch teammates can join our team like last time. It'll be a great opportunity to measure our skills and endurance: tactics and combat in particular and see how far we've come."
"Yes ma'am," Harry agreed immediately. Capture the flag was fun! Plus, it was a great simulation of combat, especially when you factored in the terrain, communication issues, and random spells being thrown around. Harry took to capture the flag like a duck to water, he had almost single-handedly powered his team through to the semi-finals last spring. All his misadventures at Hogwarts had prepared him well for the game.
Hermione hadn't done bad either.
"It says the spells are limited to 5th year and below this time, with stupefy and petrificus totalus being automatic knockouts," commented Hermione as she continued to peruse the rules listed.
Harry just nodded absently; he had learned a lot in the past year of R.O.T.C. involvement. His campus instructor had stressed many times that simple, quick spells were often better than longer, more complicated spells in a combat situation.
Stupefy was about as simple and quick as it got, and it knocked your opponent out without injury. However, the downside in a combat situation was that your opponent could be quickly revived by an ally – that was why it was important that you immediately secure the prisoner.
(Magical law enforcement agencies in the United States preferred to use stupefy paired with portkeys to holding cells as their standard approaches.)
(**One week later, just after the full moon**)
Nott Manor
Draco Malfoy looked at the pathetic, bound creature on the stone floor before him, and the thief.
"Professor Lupin," he sneered down at the captive, "this guy here claims you know who destroyed my home, who killed my parents. For both your sakes, you should start talking now."
Remus Lupin looked up between Mundungus Fletcher and Draco Malfoy groggily, his head throbbing, his gaze unfocused.
"Whaaaa?" Whatever Mundungus had hit him with, he was out of his mind, his head throbbing, matted blood coating the back of his head.
Draco didn't wait around, lunging forward with a long stick, a long stick tipped with a silver spearhead.
"OWWWWWWWWWW!"
The putrid scent of burning flesh filled the air, and Lupin was left a quivering mess. A shaking captive with a long gash seared into his arm.
"Well werewolf, do you have anything to say now?" questioned Draco, a fanatic gleam in his eye. "Who killed my parents?! Who destroyed my house?!" He bit out in anger, prodding the man with silver again.
Lupin whimpered in pain and tried to curl up into the fetal position, his eyes closed.
"Who did it?!" yelled Draco, savagely jabbing Lupin in the back again, and again.
Pain filled howls ripped the air, as Draco unleashed his fury upon the helpless man before him.
"WHO DID IT?! TELL ME! WHO KILLED MY PARENTS?!"
The sizzle of silver burning flesh caused Mundungus to look away and swallow nervously. He was a petty thief, not a hard-nose criminal. This was the first time he had ever captured someone, and it would be his last.
For long minutes Draco Malfoy tortured the bound man before him, working out weeks, months of frustration. But he was overzealous with the torture and Lupin, who had started out incoherent from his capture, only deteriorated more. No new information was gained or confirmed.
Swiping his hair back, Draco spat upon his bloody, former professor. "You will tell me what you know. If not today, tomorrow. I will have the truth from you werewolf, if I have to pry it out tooth by tooth."
Turning on his heel, Draco stormed out of the room.
The iron gate at the top of the stairs was slammed ominously. Leaving the two visitors both in the dungeon.
Mundungus Fletcher glanced around nervously, a very unhealthy Remus Lupin (currently unconscious) mere feet away. A werewolf that could thank him for the condition he was in. Mundungus looked around for a means to secure the wizard before he came to.
(**Weeks Later**)
Appalachian High Academy Recreation Field
Sirius watched with pride as his godson and girlfriend, along with their teammates, accepted their medals for winning the capture the flag event.
Harry had been an absolute beast. The-Boy-Who-Lived had survived every round, he hadn't been knocked out once in the whole tournament, not once. They couldn't touch him. And his 'kill' numbers had been phenomenal.
Sirius beamed, happier than any parent present. Not even the Grangers were as joyful as him, but that was probably because they were more academically inclined – they didn't appreciate the athleticism, teamwork, and brutality on display like he did. They would be proud too, just not like him.
Hermione had more than held her own in the event. The girl might not have the raw power or dodging ability that Harry possessed, but she was wicked fast with her wand. And her spell repertoire, it might have been limited to the standard curriculum 5th year and below, but the girl was a mad genius.
Hermione's performance had been somewhat distasteful to her parents, who just didn't appreciate the girls creativity. Sirius knew he had never seen Wingardium Leviosa used in combat like that before, and neither had the opposing players. Conventional wards and shielding just hadn't worked…
And the transfigurations, even he winced a little thinking about stepping on needles.
His godson couldn't have picked a better witch. Even his dear old mum would have been impressed by the girl's ruthlessness.
Wizard capture the flag was like muggle paintball on steroids, Moony would love it! Sirius would too. They simply had to play. He wanted a chance to test himself. He would have to see about getting up a pick-up game the next time his friend visited.
Shame they didn't have more close friends, the more competition the better, the sweeter his victory would be. …Maybe he could get the kids to invite some of their classmates to up the numbers a bit. If not, him and Harry versus Moony and Hermione, or him a Moony versus the teens.
The old Marauder cracked a smile that had given McGonagall more than a few grey hairs. The kids thought they were devious, but more than a few pranks could be worked into a game of capture the flag. He and Moony would be in their element, like old times.
Oddly, Sirius didn't think he had heard back from Moony since he went back to Britain… He would have to make the effort to write him again, maybe see about arranging another visit. He knew his friend couldn't afford an international portkey.
(**Meanwhile**)
St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London
It was the dead of the night, and not a patient or staff member stirred, not even a mouse, as Albus Dumbledore crept through Saint Mungo's building with purpose.
The old wizard was on a mission, that mission to see Alecto Carrow.
Alecto was a Death Eater, and the only member of Tom's organization that Albus had been able to track down that he was sure he would be able to safely interrogate. Alecto was in a known location, not protected by family wards, or secured in either a D.M.L.E. or I.C.W. holding cell. Albus needed information and she would provide it, willingly or not.
Albus quietly made his way from bed to bed on the 4th floor, with no fear of being caught, a bubblehead charm surrounding his head.
The strongest sleeping draught known, brewed to perfection, paired with a simple manipulation of the air flow around had seen everyone in the Janus Thickey Ward knocked out by the fumes. Albus protected by his bubblehead charm.
Methodically the old wizard moved from bed to bed, his wand illuminating each patient. No. No. No.
…familiar wavy blonde locks, on a bed surrounded by adoring fan mail, and numerous photos of one person – the person in the bed. This was not Alecto, but still a welcome sight. How Albus wished the young man's bright charming smile and upbeat personality hadn't been erased by a foolish decision…
With a sad smile of his own, Albus retrieved the bag of lemon drops from his pocket and deposited them on the side table of his former Defense Professor, beside the 'Magical Me' book. Poor Gilderoy.
Albus moved on, continuing to check the long-term patients one-by-one. Eventually coming to the person he had came to see. At last he had a Death Eater to interrogate, at last he had found Alecto.
Albus well remembered a large number of the students to grace the hollowed halls of Hogwarts during his tender as an educator, but he especially remembered those with a proclivity for trouble.
Alecto and her twin brother Amycus had been two such individuals. Two Slytherin purebloods easily swayed by the silver tongue, and gold, of Lucius Malfoy. Oh how Albus wished that hadn't been the case, but the twins weren't the brightest of students, and they had followed Lucius around much like Crabbe and Goyle followed young Draco. When Lucius went to Tom, the Carrows, and by extension the rest of their family, had soon followed.
It was a poor decision, and Albus wished the young witch had seen the error in her ways.
Albus shook his head gloomily. Alecto had never come to her senses, and now wouldn't be given a chance to rectify her wrongs. The Aurors were waiting to arrest her immediately upon her release …which should have been long ago…
With the flick of a wrist, Alecto had her own bubblehead charm. Another swish of the wand and Alecto was wide awake, her dark eyes fearfully meeting his.
"Legilimency."
…Tears ran down Albus' cheeks, all the way to his beard, as he saw what happened at the last Hogwarts staff meeting… At least Severus hadn't taken part in that…
…Alecto hadn't seen Severus, or any of the other inner circle Death Eaters since.
…Her Dark Mark was completely invisible now… Before, back in '81 when Tom had first lost his body her tattoo had been faint, but still visible, now there was no hint of the outline at all. She didn't know what to think about that…
Albus pondered the Dark Marks status. Remus Lupin's drunken report on the demise of Tom and his followers seemed to be verified. But Tom could still come back, Albus knew Tom still had at least one horcrux left.
…he saw Alecto reading the Daily Prophet, seeing the I.C.W. intervention and lock-up of a number of her fellow Death Eaters… he saw Alecto bribing the sympathetic pureblood nurse to keep her under observation... Alecto was healed, she just didn't want to be checked out and subsequently arrested.
With a heavy heart, Albus wrenched himself out of the woman's mind.
"Dumbledore!"
"It is okay my dear. 'Obliviate'."
Albus made his way out of the long-term ward, carefully erasing all evidence of his visit. No one would ever know he had been there.
His mission had been a success, and the knowledge obtained didn't change anything. It just affirmed that he was going to have to deal with Harry Potter. Between him and young Mister Malfoy, hopefully the issue could be resolved.
End of Part VII
– C. Wall 5
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