The Leader

Chapter 30

Desperation

Albus Dumbledore remained in the Ministry of magic, alternating between Madam Bones' office and the main Auror office and driving both sets of people insane. Unfortunately, as he was the Chief member of the Wizengamot, he did have a right to enquire about ongoing investigations ... he couldn't do anything about it, though, since he wasn't law enforcement. It was annoying having someone leaning over your shoulder as you worked. The Aurors were investigating every movement that had happened, and Madam Bones was going through the memories and collating what the statements said. Which meant Albus alternated between feeling furious and weak in the knees from what he finally learned about what had happened before the fight.

Backing blindly into a seat, he felt like he was grasping at straws, unable to believe what Amelia had just told him. Harry Potter? Harry Potter had walked into the Ministry of Magic? Not only that, he'd taken his seats on the Wizengamot? Hopefully not including the Slytherin line ― Dumbledore didn't want anyone knowing about that, least of all the boy. To make matters worse, she had told him he was a vampire! Harry Potter, a boy he had kept from the magical world, turned him into a legend, a hero greater than ever, was nothing but a disgusting creature of the night who should only be exterminated like the vermin he was.

Amelia swallowed back the bubble of laughter that was caught in her throat; the look on Dumbledore's face was hilarious. He was gaping in the most unattractive way. It wasn't something she was used to seeing; a year ago she would have laughed at such an unusual look on the seemingly unflappable man, but now she wanted to twist his head clean off his body; she so desperately wanted to see him reduced to the wizard she knew was lying under the surface. She had been blinded so long, that it physically made her sick to know what she did about him.

"There was also another seat taken today," Amelia revealed as if she was making a passing comment on the weather as she finished her report on the memory she had just viewed. Thankfully the old fool wasn't looking over her shoulder anymore. No, he had the information she wanted. Picking up her wand she slid it into the pensieve and began to remove the memory, placing it back in its vial ― mindful to re-check the name first so no mistakes were made.

"Who?" Albus demanded. The old lines were dying out; the Wizengamot used to be triple what it was now, but due to the inbreeding and the killing, well… it wasn't what it used to be. It both saddened and delighted him, it was less work for him, having to make them see his way and well, the magical world was dying. He should have destroyed Voldemort when he had the chance. Now they were looking to Potter as their hero... it was more difficult to get anyone to listen to him due to his age and the fact the new generation had someone else to revere instead of him, despite his best efforts.

Acting distractedly, she plucked another vial from the desk and poured its contents into the pensieve, keeping an eye on him from the side, wanting to keep an eye on him. He was obviously near the breaking point with what he was learning, and he hadn't learned the best part yet... well, the last best part, since another best part was about to be revealed. Leaning down, she'd intended to let him sweat for a while when she was grabbed on the upper arm.

Spinning around, she thrust her palm out, hearing a nauseating crack as his wrist broke. Satisfaction washed over her but Amelia's face told a whole other story ― one of horror. "Albus, I do apologise, are you alright? Should I call in the healers?" She observed that he didn't make a sound, other than to give a barely discernible grunt of pain. "You should know better than to startle Aurors in such a way!" She had also been an Unspeakable briefly, but gave it up when her entire family was killed, save for a sister and niece; her sister had since been killed in a different attack, and she had raised her niece ever since.

"I'm completely fine, nothing that Poppy cannot see to. Who was sworn in?" Albus tried to wave it off and immediately regretted it as his hand throbbed in agony.

"He didn't tell you?" Amelia said sounding startled, her eyes wide in surprise. Without her monocle she looked years younger.

"Who?" Albus asked again, irritated by the evasiveness and the impression that he should know. He wanted answers, and he was only receiving them in little bits; it was starting to annoy him. He had to find Potter, but he had to get his wrist checked first. Damn the woman to hell for breaking it.

"Severus Snape, he's taken up his Prince inheritance," Amelia explained, gazing at the wizard expectantly.

Albus paled; everything was coming undone. What on earth was going on? First Black and Lupin managed to escape; now they were telling him that Snape had survived.

"He looks like a teenager, and he's a vampire to boot," Amelia added, taking vindictive pleasure in the sick look he momentarily exhibited. How could he have duped people for so long? Now that she knew it was all a farce, she understood his facial expressions better; she wondered what she would have thought of that look if she hadn't known.

"A teenager?" Dumbledore whispered bewildered; how was it possible? He had never felt more perplexed before in his life. Becoming a vampire didn't de-age you to a teenager. "Are any of the memories pertaining to the Wizengamot meeting?" he then urgently asked; he had to see what has gone on there for himself.

"Of course not, our focus is on the battle," Amelia stated, not wishing to speak to him further, due to the fact she could still see in her mind's eye the ugly look on his face when she told him about Severus being a vampire. Touching the next memory in the pensieve, she was drawn in, leaving Dumbledore to his own devices.

Albus hissed out in pain, finally allowing himself to show just how much he hurt. He desperately needed to go to Hogwarts, not trusting the healers in the Ministry ― who largely only catered to criminals. The Aurors injured in the line of duty went to St. Mungo's, had their own beds there in fact. Although if needed, the healers in the Ministry would tend to them until the healers from St. Mungo's arrived. Cursing inwardly and taking a deep breath, he moved towards the Floo, grabbed a handful of the powder and stepping in, shouting in his destination... which was Poppy's office.

After a whirling journey through the network, he was spat out of the fire and calmly walked into the main hospital, clutching his wrist close. He made a mental note never to touch Amelia Bones again; he had not expected it, but then he knew he should never have lost his composure like that. Thankfully Amelia hadn't looked into it too much, feeling guilty because of her actions; he had never lost his composure so badly in, well, ever.

"Poppy?" Albus called loudly, when he couldn't see her. He knew if she was in the vicinity that she would be here soon, hopefully she wasn't at St. Mungo's ... which was where she sometimes went during the summer when she had nothing better to do.

Albus removed his wand and with a flourish conjured a squishy red armchair and took a seat, praying that she wouldn't take long. He needed to get back to the Ministry ― he needed to see that meeting. Snape and Potter? He just didn't understand it, had the man been helping Potter under his very nose for years? No, Snape hated Potter, he had made sure of that. It was a fine line to tread, making sure they loathed each other, but controlling it enough that Snape would risk his life to save the boy. Not that he had been able to truly make Potter hate Snape; the boy had ruined all his plans by running off when he had.

"Albus? What are you doing here?" Poppy enquired as she bustled in, grimacing in distaste at the horrific red-coloured chair that was clashing horribly with the rest of her sterile, clean, and white hospital wing. She did not tolerate any house prejudice in her hospital wing; she hated the fighting between all the students. It was why there was little of blue, green, red, or yellow by way of colour in the room or even in the clothes the healers wore.

"Broken wrist, clumsy accident," Albus said, acutely embarrassed... but not as embarrassed as he would have been telling the truth. That a short woman had gotten the drop on him and broken his wrist. Although, truthfully, she was powerful, but she was a woman, and he didn't have much of a high opinion of them. They had their uses, he did admit that, but the only reason there were women in the Order was because he knew excluding them all would raise questions he didn't want answered.

Poppy sighed in exasperation as she quickly made her way to the potions cupboard; they were very low on potions now, especially without Severus' talent. Thankfully there were enough potions to help mend Albus' broken wrist. Grabbing the one she needed, she returned to the Headmaster and thrust the potion under his nose as she quickly said the spell to begin the mending; the potion would help it along. Once she was sure that it took, she muttered "Ferula," and bandages zapped out of her wand and began to wrap around his wrist.

"There we are, try and keep weight off it for at least twelve hours," Poppy told him, knowing better than trying to get him to stay in one of her beds; that would never happen.

"Thank you," Albus said, standing up, it was already feeling better even if the wrappings felt a little too tight around his wrist. The quicker it healed the better as far as he was concerned. He had no time to sit and heal; he had to find out what had happened. Without another word to Poppy he exited the hospital wing the same way he came, leaving the chair as he used the Floo Network to get to Minister Fudge's office.

Cornelius held his head in his hands as he tried to come to terms with what had happened. The ministry had been attacked by Death Eaters and Voldemort; he had just tried to bluster his way through a press conference, trying to make sure the public continued to believe in him. It hadn't gone as planned; he hadn't been able to answer even a third of the questions, and even redirecting the questions hadn't worked. The public was beginning to panic, how could they expect the Minister and his Aurors to save them when their base was attacked? It was a good question and one he didn't have a hope in hell of answering. The newspapers would be going out to the concerned citizens, his people, and they were going to know he couldn't protect them.

He didn't take in any of the details surrounding him, as he just stared blindly at his feet. The office was quite possibly the most extravagant office in the entire building. It also held the items of most value, gorgeous pieces; one of them alone would have funded Amelia Bones' plans to create a prison for the Death Eaters. There was absolutely nothing cheap or tawdry about the office, and it was ironic that Albus Dumbledore's Headmaster's office was exactly the same. Cornelius, however, hadn't brought house colours into it. Not that it would have been red, since Cornelius wasn't a Gryffindor, but a Hufflepuff.

Sighing softly, he grudgingly had to admit Potter had calmed everyone down like an expert, and it had been impressive... if he hadn't felt threatened by the boy... er, vampire's presence. There was no way he would be able to play along with Potter, he was far too cold towards him. Potter didn't like him and nothing probably, not even greasing his palm, would help. Perhaps finding out what he wanted would help him along; at least he was still on their side, fighting You-Know-Who.

A jingle alerted him to someone coming through the Floo; sitting up straighter and patting his hair down, he grabbed a quill and pretended to write. As soon as he saw the flamboyant robes he groaned quietly, he didn't want to deal with Dumbledore right now. Putting the quill down, he leaned back in his chair staring impassively at the wizard. The old man looked extremely peeved but he'd already suspected he would be.

"Albus," Fudge said, nodding curtly, and barely blinking when a silencing charm was placed on the room. He didn't understand why he bothered, since these rooms were automatically silenced anyway. A lot of secure information was revealed here, so it was also routinely swept for listening devices.

"What happened at the meeting?" Dumbledore demanded, barely able to conceal his fury.

Cornelius sighed once more before he began speaking in a bored, monotone voice. "The meeting had just started when two vampires joined us. We didn't know who they were, but after they claimed their seats, magically sealing them into the Wizengamot, there was nothing we could do. Then Amelia Bones suggested the creation of another prison to move the Death Eaters to, so that You-Know-Who couldn't get them back. The plans were immediately approved by over half the Wizengamot." Which he did admit to himself, was a safe and smart thing to do ― very like Amelia to plan such a thing. He didn't like the idea enough to give up his office, though. He had worked too hard to get where he was to let it all go to waste.

"Which names?" Dumbledore enquired mildly, his eyes blazing but not in the genial way they usually did... in public.

"Potter, Black, and Slytherin, and of course Prince for Severus Snape," Fudge revealed, glancing at the time, wishing something or someone would intervene. He didn't want to be in an office with the old fool for much longer on his own.

Albus blanched, Slytherin? So he knew about his heritage, which meant he had been at Gringotts. Why now? What was he planning? It had to have something to do with trying to gain control of the boy's heritage; he must have found out. He would need to explain that to the boy, and believably a vampire would sense if he lied outright. As experienced as he was, even he wouldn't be able to get past him. Vampires. He had known there was something about them; they'd taken Potter and now Snape! It was as if their leader was actively working against him; what if he had Lupin and Black? No, Severus would never contemplate being near them... then again, he was apparently with Potter. He needed to find out what was going on; it was time to ask his contacts if they'd heard any new information lately. This was not acceptable.

"How did he seem to you? Well read in politics?" Albus questioned, leaning forward, his eyes drilling into Fudge's and brooking no lies or half answers.

"He got nearly everyone eating out of the palm of his hand, Albus! Does that answer your question?" Fudge cried in exasperation, hiding his admiration. "Only those loyal to you refrained from voting; even the darker families were voting with him. If you go up against him… you best have a very good yarn to spin, planned out to the last detail."

"I see," Dumbledore replied blandly. "Do you know much of what happened? Has there been mention of a prophecy being taken?" It was impossible to find out from the mess, since the prophecies were completely destroyed, at least half the room's worth. He hadn't paid much attention to the damage, he'd been just too stunned. He also knew where the area where the prophecy about Potter and Voldemort was, and that section was completely destroyed.

"I'm still getting through everything, but I doubt it, they were too busy fighting from what I've read so far to observe their surroundings. All I know was that Potter is one hell of a fighter, that Voldemort actually fled before the duel was over ... not something I'd ever thought to see," Fudge admitted. It had been a hell of a fight, too ―he had only seen a bit of it― Wandless and wordless magic firing between them both.

Albus closed his eyes briefly. This was a nightmare, and surely, he was in a foul nightmare. He had to do damage control. First he had to find Black and Lupin and prevent them from putting the pieces together or telling anyone. Then he would have to deal with Snape, which would be much trickier if he was with Potter; he would definitely need to pull in all his resources on this one. The most difficult thing of all would be getting Potter under his thumb; that would not be easy, since he was a vampire. It made his lip curl just thinking about it; the situation was all screwed up but he was not a defeatist, so he would see it through. There was no alternative. He had spent over one hundred years doing this; he wasn't about to stand aside and let everything remain this way.

Having no further use for Fudge, he stood up and left the office without another word, making his way to Amelia Bones' office with further plans to go to the Aurors' office. It looked like it was going to be a very long day for him. No rest for the wicked, he thought to himself, and he chuckled wryly, causing Amelia to stare up at him with an oddly confused look on her face. He brushed it off and sat down, pulling sheets of parchment towards him, beginning to read through the statements that had already been signed and verified.

"What is it?" Severus enquired, staring at Harry quizzically; he didn't think he'd ever heard Harry laugh like that before: genuinely. They'd headed back to Potter Manor; he'd read a book of Harry's from the rare section as Harry looked through the information, and new stuff that came ― owls with letters attached; the only thing he knew about the contents was that they were short.

"Dumbledore has a broken wrist, which he insisted was an accident, but we both know that isn't true," Harry stated wryly, a wicked smirk on his face. Amelia had already updated him twice on the case. Dumbledore was panicked, worried and close to losing his cool, which he hoped to be able to make him do in public for others to see... another knock to his popularity. The timing wasn't quite right, but it looked as though it would work in his favour.

"Who is it from?" Severus asked, eyeing the letter interestedly.

Harry arched an eyebrow, having no intention of revealing that information. It was promptly placed on the metal container and set aflame. He didn't trust Severus not to go snooping, so setting fire to it in front of him would deter any curiosity the wizard had.

"Touché," Severus said eyeing the remains, understanding what had been implied without anything said.

"I never revel all my cards," Harry stated sharply, "But watch, when it is over, all the pieces of the puzzle will join together and then you'll understand it." Everyone else always thought the exact same thing. Yes, he was guilty of reading a few of his people's minds from time to time.

Severus nodded curtly, it was how people won. Those stupid enough to trust another blindly were like an aneurism, a ticking time bomb ready to explode whenever it was time. It was how, throughout history, all attempts at overthrowing had failed: the so called 'bad guy' always trusted the wrong person. Another screech had him looking over at the window; the owl looked rough, as if it had been man-handled and well… intercepted. Harry didn't seem concerned at all, merely took the letter and began reading its contents when the sound of Apparation interrupted them.

"What is it?" Harry demanded coldly.

"Greyback's pack is back; they're in critical condition from the looks of it, they were attacked severely," Rick told them, looking at both vampires before he was even finished his sentence.

"Aaron?" Harry asked.

"Shaken but unhurt; it looks like they were all protecting him, but we have no idea what went down, just that Greyback Apparated them to the edge of the wards before falling unconscious," Rick explained.

"I'll meet you there," Harry said― an order― then watched Rick leave. "I knew something like this would go down, stubborn fools."

Both of them nodded together before cracks rent the air as they disappeared to the warehouse.

Edited by Jake and Jordre Thank you Guys!