Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A Little Gain
Karkaroff was hauled away by aurors sometime in the night. No one would have even known if it wasn't for the lost and unnerved faces of the Durmstrang students as they wandered around aimlessly in the castle. On Monday, McGonagall ended up sending them to class with the sixth and seventh years to give them something to do as they waited for another teacher from Durmstrang to join them.
In the days that followed the third task, there was much talk. Most of it contained wild speculations and tales of what people would have liked to believe. The truth eluded most. Even when it was shared from the sources who knew what they were talking about. It was just… hard to wrap your head around. The champions were working together. How could they not notice Krum was under the imperious curse?
Though Krum's claim he hadn't been in control of himself was backed up after the aurors cast prior incantato on Karkaroff's wand the last spell he cast had indeed been imperio.
How come only Harry didn't touch the portkey? Because Adrian made sure of it. Though a cursed Krum complicated matters; making Adrian was unable to do the same for Fleur. And somehow, also managed to get swept away with the portkey. "Krum tried to grab me", Harry admitted one night in the privacy of the common room as he rubbed at the scar on his forehead. "Adrian pushed me out of the way and I think Krum grabbed ahold of him instead".
Adrian had not left the hospital wing since that night. The cuts and bruises he'd acquired from the maze were healed right away. So was the gash on his arm. But the lingering damages of the cruciatus curse required a longer stay. And Adrian had reported seizing once as You-Know-Who had tried to pull useful and damning information from Adrian's mind.
I visited as often as I was allowed. Often ditching class to sit with Adrian and discuss what we could. Though the constant stream of people coming and going to talk to him and check up on him made that rather difficult.
"You can't turn this in", Adrian said as he read over my laboratory safety essay for Snape. I sat on a chair on his left. His Mum occupied a chair on his right.
"Why not?" I challenged.
Adrian shook less and less as he healed. And it was evident in his steady hand as he held my essay. "There's a whole paragraph in here about how to safely open a door".
"There are doors in potion laboratories. People need to know how to safely maneuver around them", I argued; taking great pleasure in the exasperated looks Adrian would send my way.
Mrs. Pucey had a book open in her lap. Every once in a while, she'd turn to a new page. She had barely left since that night. And Adrian rarely left her sight in the days that followed. Though she wasn't overbearing in her presence; happy to sit quietly and pretend occupation as Adrian and I had these little exchanges. Judging by the lengths she made to keep herself from smiling, Mrs. Pucey enjoyed them as much as I did.
"And then", Adrian continued; pausing only to give me a very pointed stare. "You spend a whole foot describing how to safely make a cauldron explode".
Gesturing with my hands, I made a show of defending myself. "It's a four-foot essay on potion laboratory safety, what was I supposed to put in there?"
Adrian sighed and lowered my essay onto his blanket-covered lap. "Didn't Snape assign you the essay because you blew up a cauldron?"
"Yes". A laugh almost escaped Mrs. Pucey. Though keeping her lips pressed together saved her. "Which just means I know my subject matter very well".
The hard stare. The unimpressed firmness of his jaw. Adrian's slanted eyebrows. These were all things I relished in as he clearly stated, "You're incorrigible".
"Good afternoon", Lord Flint said as he stepped into the hospital wing. He had become a frequent sight as of late. While not staying in the castle, he was here more often; discussing things in private with Dumbledore and the teachers, supervising when the ministry had questions for Harry and Adrian, and asking his own questions when given the opportunity. "Florentina, would you accompany me to a meeting in the headmistress' office?" Lord Flint's gaze washed over me as he asked. I tried not to look too eager. If Mrs. Pucey stepped away, Adrian and I might actually get something done. "We're gathering and I believe your insight will be useful".
Mrs. Pucey pursed her lips and cast a considering look at her son. Adrian responded by staring stubbornly back at her. It took a moment but ended with Mrs. Pucey closing her book and rising to her feet. "Very well, Marius", she said as she accepted his offered arm. "I do hope you're making some headway with all these meetings".
The pair headed for the doors and Adrian and I waited in silence for them to leave before turning to each other. "So, McGonagall still isn't convinced about UP?" I asked as Adrian relaxed against his pillows. He didn't like being propped up in bed. And he'd never admit it, but he was still tired more often than not.
"It's more to do with deciding who will be in charge", Adrian said with a frown. "Or so I've been told".
Taking my essay back from Adrian, I shoved it into my book bag that sat by my feet. "There shouldn't be much to discuss. I mean, the United Party has more members than Dumbledore's lot, right?" Especially since UP poached a few families that used to be stout Dumbledore supporters. My family for example. "If Dumbledore replaces Lord Flint, people will walk". And by people, I meant the Zabini family and the Bulstrodes and the others following that trend.
Adrian's lips quirked as if my observations amused him. "You're not in favor of Dumbledore returning to power?" He teased.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned back in my chair. Yes, yes. My initial dislike for Lord Flint was no secret. And he still rubbed me the wrong way on most occasions. "I like Dumbledore's ideals better. But Lord Flint is a better leader". I admitted. "His way doesn't alienate people and I think that's what we need".
Humming as he thought, Adrian turned his face away from me; choosing to stare at his lap instead. He did this frequently. As his thoughts pulled him from the present to relive the past. It was a process. Something we needed to work through. So, I tried not to get annoyed when it occurred. "Quirrell is dead". Adrian reminded us both as he started thinking aloud. It was one small positive point in a plain of hellish ones. "Instead of Pettigrew, Quirrell was sacrificed".
From how Adrian reported it, You-Know-Who hadn't looked like a shriveled-up baby that night in the graveyard. He was still attached to Quirrell. So, after Pettigrew added Tom Riddle Sr.'s bone to a giant cauldron, Quirrell just stepped into it and waited. "He had to be willing". Adrian reflected as that night played out from behind his eyes. "I think Quirrell wanted to die".
"I would too if I lived with You-Know-Who inside my body for four years".
Adrian moved on. "We didn't destroy three Horcruxes. Just two". My hands balled into fists at this part. This was the bit that unnerved me the most. "The diary…" Adrian shook his head and sighed. "Somehow writing in the diary, caused Lockhart to absorb the Dark Lord's soul fragment".
In other words, Lockhart was such a narcissist that when he ended up with a diary that would write back to him, he poured his soul into it. And used it to a greater extent that Ginny never came close to in the first order of things; lapping up all the false compliments as Riddle invaded him. By the time Lockhart was arrested, Riddle was fully in the driver's seat. By the time we were stabbing that steak knife through the diary, it was no longer a Horcrux. Just an object radiating dark magic. Which was horrifying because that meant Horcruxes may be transferable.
It was Lockhart… Riddle who was formally known as Lockhart, who cast the first crucio on Adrian. It was Riddle who harvested Adrian's blood for You-Know-Who's return. Blood of the enemy. We were wrong. Stupidly wrong. The answer was in the wording this whole time and we overlooked it. Assuming Harry, and only Harry, would have potent enough blood to do the deed. But… You-Know-Who had many enemies. It may have been poetic for Harry to be the one to revive him. Which You-Know-Who did appear to have planned for (Like the theater kid, I feel like he could have been), but when that didn't happen a substitution was made. A reincarnated traitor may not be as satisfying as the Boy Who Lived, but it was a better alternative than most.
"But You-Know-Who will not be as strong this time around", I tried; breaking Adrian from whatever dark thought he was about to tumble down. "Five Horcruxes is still better than seven".
A dry humorless laugh, almost pained, left Adrian. I reached out and grabbed his hand. "The Dark Lord was very curious to learn how Regulus figured out about Horcruxes. And my occlumency shields were already weak after Lockhart was done with me… I don't know how much he saw". That was the part Adrian was probably the most torn up about. Second only to You-Know-Who returning to full body. Excruciating pain was already too much. Add in your most identifying memories; the embarrassing and cherished, being viewed like a TV show and you have an ice cream Sunday of pain with violation sprinkled on top.
"Most of it probably didn't make coherent sense", I tried. But I knew it was a weak attempt. As a reincarnated person, Adrian's mind wasn't a simple one to interact with. As our third year proved, when someone tried to enter our minds, they got flashes of two different lives competing for space in the same brain. It was a sort of double-edged sword. On one hand, it was hard to invade our minds. On the other, the confusion of having all these different memories coming from different people stirred up resulted in nosebleeds and seizures.
"I don't know when Dumbledore got there", Adrian continued as his hand trembled under mine. He needed to move on. "I don't think the Dark Lord summoned his other followers. When I came to, we were out of the graveyard".
And that's where we are. Both Krum and Fleur saw the graveyard. They saw and were able to describe Pettigrew, Quirrell, and Lockhart to the aurors. Karkaroff took the blame for the portkey once Krum was proven to have been cursed. And because of that, he was tied to the other three. Rita Skeeter came out with a new story every morning as new information, fabricated or otherwise, was revealed. More often than not, articles were being printed before the ministry had time to respond.
This is the story that was told: While on the run, Pettigrew, Quirrell, and Lockhart came together under the shared delusion they were You-Know-Who returned. Well… Quirrell and Lockhart did. Pettigrew was portrayed as a deranged and spineless little man who believed Quirrell and Lockhart and followed them because he was You-Know-Who's servant.
The three wanted revenge on Harry for You-Know-Who's downfall. The Triwizard Tournament presented them with the perfect opportunity. But an insider was needed. They went to Karkaroff and somehow convinced him despite their very obvious madness. Karkaroff was claiming to have been coerced. But the media and Viktor Krum's many fans weren't having any sympathy for him.
Their plan was to kidnap Harry Potter via the Triwizard Cup and kill him. Because in their deranged minds, that would prove Quirrell and Lockhart truly were the Dark Lord. But when their plan failed and everyone but Harry took the portkey, they had to improvise.
Naturally, they would have read the article about Adrian's past life. And a traitor Death Eater became the obvious next choice. Their focus on Adrian; Fleur, and Krum managed to escape to get help (Rita Skeeter made sure to paint Adrian in a very tragic and heroic light as she wrote this bit). Adrian held out as long as he could on his own. And at the last possible second, he was saved by Dumbledore. Who had also been reading all the articles about Hogwarts and the tournament and just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
Reportedly, Fleur and Krum heard the three claim they were resurrecting You-Know-Who. But experts insisted the three criminals were insane. With the exception of reincarnation, which cannot be orchestrated, it is impossible to come back from the dead. Likewise, Adrian claimed he saw You-Know-Who rise again. But the poor boy had been tortured. Clearly, he wasn't lucid when he was witnessing all that. No, what he must have seen was Lockhart killing Quirrell because why would Lockhart want to share the role of the Dark Lord?
So, instead of a few adamantly claiming You-Know-Who had returned, most believed there was a copycat You-Know-Who running around with one follower that was trying to reignite the dark days of You-Know-Who's power.
"It's amazing the things people will believe to avoid the truth", I complained as Adrian and I sat in the hospital wing; discussing this for the umpteenth time.
Adrian scoffed and turned his head in the direction of the nearest window. Having been cooped up here for days, I wouldn't be surprised if he was missing walking the grounds or flying on his broom.
It was frustrating, though Adrian wouldn't come out and say it. While Lord Flint wasn't encouraging You-Know-Who's return to be brushed under the rug, he told us it wasn't time to be vocal. And Dumbledore wanted the opposite. Having been present that night, he saw You-Know-Who in person. For Dumbledore, Adrian's description of events, Harry's burning scar, and his own eyes was enough to tell anyone who'd listen that You-Know-Who was back. People needed to be warned. They needed time to prepare. It was the right thing to do.
But Lord Flint didn't change his orders. We were to let the world be weary of Lockhart and Pettigrew. "If we force a narrative, we'll make enemies we can't afford". That was Lord Flint's argument. And the one we suspected he and Dumbledore were currently discussing to great length.
"Lord Flint is right", Adrian said. Though it seemed to upset him. "There needs to be concrete proof that is impossible to ignore before we can claim the Dark Lord has returned. The ministry would have to recognize his return before the United Party can speak up. We'll lose our footing if not enough people are ready to believe us". It was all about control… It's always about control.
"Next Year", I started to say; letting go of Adrian's hand to push some hair out of my face. "Everything Jessie remembers about it… I think it's all useless now".
Harry lives with Sirius and the ministry isn't claiming he's an attention-seeking quack. Dementors won't be sent after him this summer. Lupin, our defense against the dark arts teacher of two years now, is in good health and plans on returning next year. His werewolf status is still a secret. There isn't a reason for Umbridge to take the position. There isn't even an opening. And the prophecy sitting in the Department of Mysteries… Well, did we need to do anything about it?
I didn't remember it verbatim, but the gist was still easy to recall. You-Know-Who wants it to learn how to defeat Harry. But did it matter if You-Know-Who gets it? It's not like the prophecy held some ultra-secret clue on how to win. Harry and You-Know-Who had to fight each other. And there was no mention of the deathly hallows in the prophecy. Honestly, The Tales of the Beedle and the Bard were more useful as a map for things yet to come.
"Good", Adrian said without looking at me. The light filtering through the window shined on his face. There was a pleasure in seeing color and strength return to him. "You're less tempting this way".
The wording had me raising an eyebrow. "Less tempting?" I challenged.
Adrian returned his eyes to me. Indulgent fondness expressed in those grey pupils instead of the depression I had grown used to seeing. "To everyone except myself", he amended; stretching out the arm closest to me in invitation.
Moving from my chair, I settled beside him on the hospital bed. As we were both seventeen, it was difficult to squeeze two people onto a twin-sized bed but we managed. Laying my head on Adrian's chest, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders as he explained, "The less you can predict the less of a reason there will be to try to get inside your head". Adrian's lips brushed against my temple and my toes curled.
We lay in silence for a moment; enjoying the privacy we rarely got these days. It ended when Adrian tentatively asked, "Next year, that's when you said Sirius died?"
I grabbed a fistful of Adrian's pajama shirt at the painful reminder. "Yeah. But I don't think it'll happen this time around". I said as I let go.
"It won't", Adrian agreed; his arm tightening around me. "Sirius will be here teaching classes instead of hiding in Grimmauld Place. Harry won't have cause to think him missing. And I won't let that big idiot take one step outside of Hogwarts". It was probably more comforting for Adrian to say it than it was for me to hear it.
Mrs. Pucey choose to return in the minutes that followed. She took one look at us, her book folded primly under her arm as her lips curved into a mischievous and pleased smile. "I leave alone for an hour at the most and come back to find you in bed together", she said with a mocking scolding quality to her tone.
Adrian jolted as if just realizing our positions and who was starting at the foot of his hospital bed. "Mother", he said quickly as he withdrew his arm; knocking me from the bed in the process.
"Adrian", the mocking tone continued. "You know better". As I picked myself off the floor, I tried to decide if Adrian had intended to push me off the bed. "What would her parents say if they saw their daughter's suitor holding her in such a way?" Though, as I stood and brushed off my skirt, Adrian's tomato complexion told me everything I needed to know. "And you haven't even asked Mr. Weasley for his blessing yet".
Adrian didn't look like he would be able to recover as he stared at his mother; absolutely horrified. "It's okay, Mrs. Pucey", I said as I returned to my chair and smiled devilishly at her. "My family knows me very well. If they walked in on us like you just did, they'd be worried about Adrian instead of me".
The students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were scheduled to leave a few days before the term ended. As such, YUP decided to make the most of it. Using some of the funds Lord Flint gave us, a nice little luncheon was happening in the Transfiguration courtyard. Three tables were set up with different YUP members manning them. One held drinks that Flora, Hestia, and Ginny oversaw. Another was for the sandwiches the house elves provided. Hermione was taking this time to talk to anyone who'd listen about why house elves should be paid for their services. While Dean and Terry Boot made sure the platters were never empty.
The last table is where I sat. Neville on my left and Zabini on my right. Our job was to take down the names of anyone looking for a pen pal and then match them with a student from a different school. It was a good turnout. Fleur and Krum had led the charge and all their classmates were here. And most of Hogwarts decided to check it out as they went about their afternoon. Did all of them want a pen pal? No.
The good attendance was probably more likely that they get the chance to gawk at the champions and try to weasel more information out of them regarding the third task. Which meant Adrian spent the whole event sitting behind me and trying not to attract attention. He wasn't fully recovered yet. There were moments when he needed to sit down and the memories still haunted him. But more and more of Adrian's old self was shining through.
Many of our friends were helping with that. "H-here, Adrian", Neville stuttered as he turned around in his seat and offered my boyfriend a sandwich.
Adrian blinked at him in surprise. "Thank you, Longbottom", he said once he regained himself and accepted the offered food. Neville had visited him in the hospital wing. Adrian hadn't gone into detail, but from what I understood, the two had a heart-to-heart about their experiences with the torture curse. Neville was appalled to learn every Death Eater experienced it at some point. It was how You-Know-Who kept his followers in line. Adrian also admitted Regulus' mother would use it to punish severe examples of misbehavior as well.
Smiling nervously, Neville turned his attention back to taking down names as students approached the table. Things weren't back to normal. Neville was still scared. But he was trying and he wasn't alone. Angelina was trying too. But for her, it was better to keep her distance from Adrian as she watched all interactions with him very suspiciously. A handful took her stance. Though the events of the third task had thawed some of them.
Birds chirped as they flew. Laughter and chatter filled the courtyard as people enjoyed the day. Humming to myself, I kept busy matching names on the three different lists we were working from.
Let's see…. Collin Creevy. Your pen pal will be… Fleur Delacour. Why not? And Dennis, hmm… They were from the same family. Was it needed to give them both an international contact? As it was; there were more Hogwarts students than foreign students. So, this had to be thought out carefully.
Zabini was taking the names I matched and copying them onto two different index cards to be passed out to the correct people at the end of the event. With time, he started to see a pattern. "For what reason are you giving preference to muggleborns?"
Looking up, I smiled at him in answer. Who knew what would happen two… three years from now. But if the worst were to occur, maybe having a friend outside of the country would give some of our muggleborn classmates a place to run. A friend who was willing to help. "Not just the muggleborns", I refuted as I pointed to one of the first names I had matched. "Dean Thomas got matched with a student from Beauxbatons. Aren't you curious about what they'll end up talking about?"
Zabini stared without blinking; his eyes cold and calculating. Whatever he thought ended with him sighing and returning to work. "I'll trust your judgment, madam president". It was a show of loyalty I would never have expected from Blaise Zabini.
As the event continued, people came and went as they pleased. Ron ate more sandwiches than anyone else. And Hermione judged him harshly for it. It was normal. It was nice. We needed it. And not just the students. Flitwick was here supervising. Though he spent most of his time talking with the seventh years who would soon be leaving us. Sirius and Lupin made appearances. McGonagall and Madame Maxime walked together as they came to our table; wondering if they could open the pen pal program to the students at Beauxbatons who were studying at home.
Lord Flint was here; shaking hands and reminding everyone these events were possible thanks to the United Party's sponsorship. But the only one that caught my eye was Dumbledore. He stood under the shaded pathway with his hands behind his back as he looked on with a certain air that made him seem proud and astonished at the same time.
"Hey Adrian", I called over my shoulder. "Take over for me". I stood up and left before anyone could protest. Some offered greetings as I hurried past them. I spared them a wave, but my eyes were on Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore", I said once I was in the shade with him.
Dumbledore didn't turn his eyes away from the courtyard and its happy occupants. "Miss Weasley", he spoke as gently as always. "During these last few days, I've heard quite a bit about your club. I had to see it for myself".
Tracking his line of sight, I tried to see it through his eyes. It was a sight I was growing used to but it was still something to witness. Montague was talking with Cedric as a muggleborn first-year clung to his robe. Bulstrode and Davies were having a grand old time as they gossiped with the Patil sisters. Things had changed since Dumbledore left. Not by much. But it was a start.
"Percy and Marcus Flint started YUP during their last year", I shared; feeling better about giving them the credit than accepting it for myself.
"I wasn't aware your brother and Mr. Flint were friends".
My face twisted into something complicated. "Neither were we". And when Dumbledore didn't say anything else, I decided to broach the topic I wanted. "Sir, how did you know to be at the graveyard that night?"
Dumbledore barely turned his head as he peered down at me over the rims of his spectacles. The twinkle in his eyes was in full effect. "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it". It was the second time Dumbledore had said those words to me. Hell, I've heard it… read it multiple times before becoming Holly. But it baffled me how the context surrounding them kept changing.
In wonder, my hand flew up the touch the feather blending in with my hair. Did he mean… No. The magic needed to make such an implication true…
"Thank you", I said. It was easier to move on than it was to get lost in one of Dumbledore's riddles. "In our plan, Adrian wasn't supposed to go to the graveyard. And when the other champions came back without him, I thought he was…"
Dumbledore spared me from having to explain myself further. "You do not need to thank me, Miss Weasley. While I may no longer be your headmaster, I still consider every young mind attending Hogwarts to be my students. Mr. Pucey is included in that sentiment".
I glanced sideways at Dumbledore; trying to read him. "Are you going to come back to Hogwarts?"
"No", Dumbledore replied with one lone chuckle as his beard waved. "Professor McGonagall has done a marvelous job and I suspect she will not be easily replaced".
"Then…" I tried to guess. "Are you restarting the Order of the Phoenix?"
At the mention of his secret organization, Dumbledore turned away from the pleasant sight happening in the courtyard and faced me fully. I took a step back; fearing him unhappy I had mentioned it so openly. But all Dumbledore did was smile; his eyes twinkling. "It seems to me, Miss Weasley, a different organization has already taken its place".
My eyes briefly searched for Lord Flint; knowing what Dumbledore was referring to. When I found him having a cordial word with McGonagall and Madame Maxime, I refocused on Dumbledore. "Are you joining UP?"
"I may be of some assistance".
"But you're not replacing Lord Flint?"
Dumbledore straightened, his face a little conflicted. "Lord Flint has done what I could not", He admitted. "He is able to reach people on both sides. While I believe some of his viewpoints are… ignoring the underlying problem, I'm curious to see what he'll accomplish".
…Kay… I had come over here to get answers. But now I felt like I had more questions than before. "So, what will you do, sir?"
With a humorous upturn of his lips, Dumbledore asked, "Do you have any suggestions?"
It took a minute to process. Did I have suggestions? Of course. Did Dumbledore care to know what they were? "The Deathly Hallows", I spoke slowly; trying to pick up any sort of recognition in his eyes. But I saw none. "From the Tale of the Three Brothers, maybe there's more truth to it than we believe".
Dumbledore turned back to the luncheon taking place in front of us. "An interesting thought", he allowed; smiling with whimsy.
"Sir", I said again before our conversation could be allowed to end. My hand kept fidgeting with the feather in my hair. "Will you ever tell why you gave me one of Fawkes' feathers?" Or why I felt compelled to keep it on my person? Not knowing had bothered me for years.
Dumbledore smiled at the students enjoying the day. "Miss Weasley, as a soon-to-be seventh-year you should know that students learn more when they answer their own questions. There is little to be gained from having things handed to you".