CHAPTER 68: The Devil's Greatest Trick (Aftermath)

Grimmauld Place

8:45 a.m.

As the green flames dissipated and Grimmauld Place was revealed to him, it was clear why Alastor had sent him an urgent summons. The entire living room was a mess: furniture was thrown all over the place, a sofa had found itself embedded into one of the walls, and drops of dried blood coated the floor. Glass cracked under his shoes as he left the fireplace and walked over to Alastor, who was waiting for him only a few feet away.

"Is everyone alright?" Albus asked.

"Fine as they can be," Alastor gritted out. "Andromeda and I were the first down here, as soon as we saw the mess she went upstairs and checked on the others and they were fine. The two youngest needed a strong reviving spell to wake up, but besides that, they're not harmed."

"Are you saying they were drugged?"

"Most likely, but that's not our concern here, Albus. The boy's missing."

"Harry?" The name took his breath away. It had lurked at the back of his mind, creeping into his thoughts ever since Alastor's message. Even before stepping foot into the manor, he knew Harry was involved somehow. But whether it was as the victim or the aggressor, he didn't know. "Do you think he was taken?"

"No. All his stuff's missing. His closet's empty, the drawers as well. And with the Fidelius, it means that if someone took him they would have to know the secret already. Can you think of anyone who would want to not just kidnap the boy, but also take with them all his belongings?"

"No," Albus said softly. "No one comes to mind."

"He didn't escape, Albus," Alastor said gruffly. "Potter came down here last night and escaped. Fought his way out. This is just the tip he left the place in ."

"Harry doesn't have a wand-"

"You see this amount of blood?" Alastor slammed his staff on the ground, trailing the blood. "The patterns? The broken glass covered in blood? This was a brawl, very little magic was used. Most of it caused the whole mess, but the actual confrontation was physical."

"You said everyone was alright."

"Everyone who sleeps here, aye," Alastor's eyes gained a glint of something, as the mass of scars on his face twisted themselves into what could almost be the ghost of a proud look. "We have an uninvited guest."

With an indication to follow, Alastor led him across the disaster in the living room until they met the wooden door that led to the basement. It was ajar, the handle almost hanging off the wood, letting out the moans and grunts that could be heard from downstairs. "After you," Alastor said. He had expected to see Harry once again in his cell, or perhaps worse, given the threat against his life that Alastor had warned him about. But it wasn't Harry being tended to by Andromeda, looking as though only raw hatred bound him to life. Instead, it was Sirius who glared up at him with his one eye that wasn't covered with a bandage.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up? Only five hours fucking late- ow!"

"Stop moving around, bellend," Andromeda scowled at him. "Honestly, you're lucky I'm even here fixing you up after your idiocy."

"What happened here?" Albus asked.

"Sirius cocked things up," Alastor grunted. "As usual."

"I warned you!" Sirius snarled. "I told you the brat would escape, and you blew me off. This shit's on you."

"Potter wouldn't have been able to escape if you hadn't barged in here looking to murder the boy. He played you, you brainless knob."

"He wouldn't have if you hadn't told him exactly how! Worse, you fucking helped him by placing those Anti-Animagus wards."

"So that you could go and tear that boy apart?" Alastor growled. "You lost to a wandless boy, not even sixteen years old, and he beat you. You're a disgrace to the Order, Black."

"I told you he was going to escape!" Sirius snapped. "I warned you. All of you. Call me a disgrace, call me a monster for what I did - what I wanted to do - but Potter's out there now. He's out there and fuck knows what he's gonna do. Whatever it is, whoever he kills next, that's on you. All of you. You worthless morons were only too happy to play house with him and act as if he's Hermione or Ron or Neville when he's not. You let the wolf inside the hen house and pretended he was one of us. Now he's out there. He knows everything about us. He has Kreacher for fuck's sake!"

"Kreacher?" The name snapped him out of his trance, his head snapping back towards Sirius. "Call him."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"Potter took him!" Sirius snapped. "I don't bloody know how, but he somehow took ownership of the elf. Potter… I don't know what the fuck he is at this point. He used my wand, Albus. Fucking used it against me. Cast spells with it. That shouldn't be possible, it isn't."

"It is," Andromeda said quietly. "A sufficiently powerful wizard can overpower the wand's will and force their magic into it regardless of the incompatibility."

"You aren't talking about a powerful wizard there," Alastor grunted. "I can count with half the fingers on my hand the number of people I know who are capable of that feat."

"Not anymore," Albus said softly. "Harry is one of them… and young Neville too."

"Longbottom?"

"His grandmother forced him to use his father's wand for his first two years of school before it was snapped in his fight with the basilisk."

"You know more about this boy than you're letting on, don't you?" Alastor said. "What are you hiding from us, Albus?"

Albus turned to Alastor and gave him a look, one that immediately silenced him. After serving in two wars together, decades of companionship of the like he didn't have with anyone other than Minerva and Aberforth, they could easily understand each other with a single look. Sirius, however, wasn't pleased by this sudden change in attitude from Alastor.

They didn't pick up the topic until much later. Long after Sirius had told them exactly what had happened and Alastor - along with Tonks and Kingsley, who examined the scene at before putting the place back together - had escorted the Weasleys to Platform 9 and 3/4. Alastor barged into the study, stepping in as Albus was mid-sentence.

"What the fuck is going on, Albus?" He growled, limping over to him before he took a seat in between Aberforth and Minerva. "We've been more than patient, but through all our conversations about the boy it's become clear you've been leaving a lot out."

"It seems Mister Potter has caught the attention of everyone today." Minerva pursed her lips.

"You don't seem entirely pleased about that," Alastor said.

"About us finally having this conversation, I am. But I can't say the same for his actions today. Sirius is far from perfect, and some might say the beating he received was vindication for his crimes against Potter. But the fact that Potter lured him in with a well thought-out plan that must have taken all three weeks to coordinate says everything we need to know about him. What we saw as progress and a well-mannered, or at least civilized young man was nothing but a front."

"We can't be sure of that." Albus said.

"Aye, we can!" Minerva snapped. "Potter was supposed to be on the Hogwarts Express as we speak. He was supposed to leave Grimmauld Place and return to what he most likely views as home. To his friends. His old life. As much as I hate to admit it, Black is right. Potter wouldn't have done this if he wasn't after something else, if he didn't have other ideas that required him to be outside Hogwarts. Potter has plans. Whatever they are I do not presume to know. But it's time we prepare for the possibility they aren't wholly good."

"Potter isn't a monster." Aberforth said firmly. "We've had this conversation many times before, and we put it to bed with everything Albus found out from Snape while Potter was unconscious."

"We gave him our sympathies for all that has happened, all that we allowed Potter to go through in our ignorance and faith in Snape. We understood his overzealous behaviour toward Graham Montague on Halloween, and even the reason why he complied with Snape's plan that resulted in Tracey Davis' incarceration. It was an ugly situation, and since Snape was the one who came up with the whole plan and swayed Potter and the rest to think it was their only way out of Azkaban, it's understandable. I still have issues with it, but I can understand it. But while his actions at The Three Broomsticks were in self-defence, the same can't be said for his actions earlier today. This was a brutal, premeditated attack that resulted in Potter nearly murdering a man."

"Black sought to attack him," Alastor grunted. "He threatened to murder him, said it to my face. Said he would do it unless we put him down. You've seen him lately, Minerva, the man's disturbed-"

"He's not too far gone," Albus interrupted.

"For all we know, he is! Fuck, it's a wonder Black's able to walk. The man can't even craft coherent thoughts without going on a rant about Potter or Snape or anyone else he sees as his enemy. Someone he doesn't like. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to kill a man in the street for looking at him the wrong way. I'm just… I think we need to start thinking about the possibility that the best thing we can do to honour Sirius' memory is to put him down."

"You can't be serious!" Minerva exclaimed, and Aberforth looked like he was in agreement.

"It's a miracle Black can think at all after a decade in the same cell block as Bellatrix Lestrange and Amycus Carrow. A miracle he's still fucking alive. I can understand feeling guilty, but we need to live in the real world here."

"We're not killing a man in cold blood," Aberforth said firmly.

"Look at all Black has done. He snapped Potter's wand, threatened to kill the boy, and actually went about the plan only to be bested by what basically amounts to a fifteen-year-old cripple. If he hadn't come here, Potter wouldn't have been able to escape. The truth is that if we had put him down sooner, none of this would have happened. Potter would still have his own wand, and he probably wouldn't view the Order as a group of thugs and brutes who attacked him for no reason. It was your idea to redeem Potter, to try and stop him from continuing down the path he was on and possibly end in Voldemort's camp. Well, I hate to break it to you, but Black pushed him further down that path before we could do anything about it."

"Sirius is a person!" Minerva exclaimed. "A man who we failed. Someone who we have known and who we witnessed grow up and mature. He's not a problem to be so crudely solved. Especially not like that."

"I'm being realistic here, Minerva," Alastor grunted. "It's about time someone is because we've cocked up far too many times for the sake of idealism, to hold onto thid bullshit view that we're all good and human. It's the same mistake we made in the last war, and it's clear we haven't learned from it."

"We're not killing anyone." Albus finally spoke up, his voice cold. "Sirius is staying in his cell and that's that. I'll decide how to deal with him later. A few days of solitude and quiet to think about what he's done is exactly what he needs right now."

"That won't change all the damage the dementors have done to his psyche," Aberforth said. "We know the effect those creatures have on people. With the degree of exposure Sirius had to them and the amount of time, there's nothing we can do about it now. No one's ever managed to reverse it."

"Tom is looking to do that," Albus said. "And if what Severus tells me is correct, they're making good progress with it."

"How is that possible?" Minerva asked.

"For all his faults, I think no one can deny Severus is a prodigy at Potions, especially when it comes to crafting new ones. I've met very few with his talent, and all of them are at least forty years older than him."

"I'm not denying that," Aberforth said. "But treating the dementor's effect is something that has been attempted by many, some of whom rival Severus. And yet none have been able to crack it, even after devoting their lives to it."

"It isn't just Severus," Albus said. "Tom himself is working on the project, along with Clotho."

"The Unspeakable?"

"Indeed. The three of them are spending hours on the project each day. And with all the research and papers published on the subject, they are making progress. Severus is trying to delay the process as much as he can, but it's becoming less possible with each passing day."

"And you're sure of that?" Moody growled. "You're sure the slimy bastard isn't playing you like he did with Potter?"

"Yes," Albus said coldly. "I've made sure of it. I wouldn't keep him in the Order if I hadn't made sure he wasn't going to do exactly as he was told. And I wouldn't have allowed him to continue to roam the halls of Hogwarts if I hadn't made sure he wouldn't do anything foolish. Severus has lost his privileges. He no longer has the freedom or privacy to do anything I would consider even inconvenient to us."

"How far along are they?" Aberforth asked, gracefully changing the topic away from the sore subject Severus had become.

"Far enough. If all goes well, they could very soon be administering doses of the potion to other inmates. Studying how their bodies and minds react to the potions."

"Human trials?" Minerva asked, horrified. "This early? It can't have been more than a month since this started!"

"Tom… he doesn't care about these people or the possible effects the potion might have on them. They're all his test subjects until the treatment is perfected, and he can administer it to his inner circle."

"And that's when we're gonna have real problems," Alastor grunted.

"Precisely." Gently pulling out his wand from within his robes, his fingers brushed up against his old wand. The wand he was planning on giving to Harry only a few hours from now when he arrived at Hogwarts. His heart sank at the realization, but he continued nonetheless. He pressed his wand to his temple before swishing it forwards and performing a string of complex wand motions. A set of grey lights floated above the long, mahogany desk before they began to shape themselves into five separate faces. "There are many Death Eaters - or criminals in one case - that were locked up within Azkaban at the time of Tom's siege. But these five are the ones who bring me the most concern at the moment."

Albus could tell the change in the room immediately. All these people here were monsters in their own right, monsters who had committed the worst of atrocities, who almost made his beliefs falter in the face of them. Together, they had murdered thousands of people in the first war, along with committing other unspeakable crimes that almost compared to those of Tom himself.

Bellatrix Lestrange, otherwise known as Artemis. A highly skilled duellist and the unequivocally best hunter in the Death Eater's ranks. She was a deadly tracker, capable of hunting down her prey from nothing but week-old trodden leaves and a picture. But most of all, she was an efficient killer who did it for the sport of it, before Tom had twisted her mind so much that she became entirely too devoted to him. She had gone insane even before stepping foot inside Azkaban, but that hadn't diminished her skills in the slightest. Even in her mania, she was as much of a threat as she was when fully sane. Only in the end, she took more sadistic pleasure in torturing her victims than in outright killing them.

Amycus Carrow, also known as Hecate. An above-average wizard in most regards and a ruthless killer whose drive was unparalleled whenever set to the task. For all intents and purposes, he seemed to be one of many Death Eater candidates who were identical. There was nothing truly special about him, not anything noticeable at first glance. But after a few encounters with him, it was clear why Tom had honoured him with a place in his inner circle. Magic and Fate were forces all too powerful, and those with concrete knowledge of them were few and far between. And those with power over them were myths to most sceptics. But even among those who believed it was possible, who believed people like that did exist at one point, there was still no record of them, however vague, for over three hundred years. And the stories throughout history could all be counted on only two hands. That's what made Amycus Carrow all the more terrifying, more than having the ability to somehow control the Ancestral and Wild magic that riddled the planet, it was still unclear what someone like that could actually do. Amycus' was one of the few Death Eaters exempt from a trial, thrown straight into Azkaban as it was the only place from which he could not escape.

It was only a shame that Albus hadn't managed to hide Amycus' abilities from the Ministry. Even if Tom's dementor treatment did work, he still didn't know if Amycus could recover from all the experiments the Unspeakables were rumoured to have performed on him over the past fourteen years. And Albus didn't know what scared him more: what Amycus would do if the treatment worked, or what the Unspeakables discovered in their experiments.

Augustus Rookwood, whom Tom chose to name Hermes. He was the other Unspeakable, besides Clotho, to have allied himself with Tom and became an informant. He gave as much information to Tom about the Department of Mysteries as his oaths and vows allowed him to. And though he couldn't fulfil his original role as well as Tom may have wanted him to, Rookwood still went on to become a greatly feared man after stories of his experiments were revealed following his trial. Muggles, muggle-borns, veela, werewolves, goblins, house-elves, merpeople, centaurs. Gruesome and horrific, Rookwood's mind and thirst for knowledge knew no bounds as he tortured, maimed, and murdered magical beings from all corners of the world in his search for it.

Edwin Selwyn, a man who had gained many names throughout his life, though none described him as well as his Death Eater name. Phobetor. The personification of nightmares. A man of incredible talent in all areas of spellcrafting, he became renowned in the previous war for what he called his nightmare curses. Created from his own disturbed mind, to this day they remained one of his many secrets, as he refused to share them with any Death Eaters or even Tom himself. Not even to his own family. The fact that these were not taught and spread across the Death Eater ranks was the only reason these were not named Unforgivable Curses.

And finally, though his history in Britain was short and he had no true feats that compared to the other four, Azkaban's most recent resident was one he would not so easily discount. Antonin Dolohov - though Kingsley's report concluded that name was an alias – was a ghost. There were no records of him in Britain or any other country in Europe. A sadistic man who took pleasure in causing mayhem and violence, he had his eyes set on Harry after their confrontation at The Three Broomsticks. Obsession falls short on describing it, Kingsley had told him, as Dolohov had been found muttering Harry's name over and over again while laughing maniacally. Albus only hoped he could keep the news of Harry's unexpected disappearance from Hogwarts quiet for as long as possible, lest Dolohov or someone else seek to pick up his trail.

"What has Snape said?" Alastor grunted. "What has he told you about them."

"Bellatrix, Amycus and Edwin are all heavily impaired," Albus said. "The dementors have damaged their minds to the point where they require other inmates to actively feed them. Augustus, while he seemed that way at first since the four were being held in the same cell block, has actually escaped. Voldemort has Death Eaters looking for him all over Britain as we speak, though whether if it is to aid him or murder him Severus isn't sure. As for Dolohov, the news is more concerning. Apparently, he has partnered up with Barty Crouch Jr-" Alastor growled at the mention of the name, but Albus continued as if he hadn't. "The two of them are carrying out a task for Voldemort, and though Severus doesn't know what it entails, he's convinced Harry is involved somehow."

"Well, tell him to figure it out." Moody snapped.

"It's not that simple, Alastor-"

"No, simple would be for you to order Snape to kill those two fuckers and be done with it. But you allow him to hide behind your skirts in the name of providing information. Merlin help me, Albus, as soon as his information is no longer viable or reliable, I'm gonna kill the bastard with my bare hands. You allowed him to avoid justice last time, and look where it lead. Not this time."

Albus let out a deep sigh before ducking his head slightly. "And I won't stop you," he said calmly. "But right now, we need him. We need his information."

"If this is true, then we need to find Harry before they do," Aberforth said.

"I've already sent Hestia, Andromeda, and Mundungus after him. They'll be searching the most likely locations where he'd run to. And if they don't find him, then we'll just have to keep looking until we do."

"I'm not saying Potter isn't important," Minerva spoke up. "But we have spent a lot of resources and time on Harry over the past month. With you travelling all over Europe to fix his wand, Alastor and Andromeda spending all their time here to take care of him. Won't it be best to leave this to the Aurors? To include them in this and let them find him? The war's still brewing out there, Voldemort is going to keep making moves and if we remain static rather than focusing on how to counter them, we're allowing him freedom all over the board. I'm all for helping Potter and us doing our part, but we need to set out our priorities. We can't just run around the country, looking for a boy that doesn't want to be found, while Voldemort strengthens his hold over Britain with every passing day."

"The boy's more important than you've been letting on, isn't he?" Alastor asked.

"Albus," his brother spoke up, and though it was soft and calm, there was a hint of firmness to it. "It's time. They need to know."

"Need to know what?" Minerva asked, her look as accusing and disdainful as it was whenever she found out he was keeping things from them. It was a necessary habit for someone in his position, but not one he took any relish in. For as much as he would have wanted to trust these things to anyone other than Aberforth, the more people that knew the more likely it was that secrets would eventually get out.

Albus stood, his knees wobbling as he did, before he turned his back to them. He looked out of the large window and watched the empty street below. No cars passing or children playing, only the snow gently falling down onto the grass and pavement.

"Do you remember why we placed the Longbottoms and the Potters under the Fidelius? Why we wouldn't even allow them to leave their respective safe houses?"

"Aye," Alastor said. "Voldemort began hunting them himself, all of his inner circle joined him. Once it became clear what was happening, you forced them into the safe houses."

"Yes… but did you ever wonder why Voldemort sought them out in the first place?"

"They were blood traitors," Alastor shrugged. "The two most prominent who stood against him and defied him, both on the battlefield and in the Wizengamot."

"Yes, they did. But that wasn't why he began targeting them so fiercely. They did so for years before Voldemort himself set his eyes on them."

"Then why?" Minerva asked.

"Because there was a prophecy-"

"The one Arthur was protecting the night he was attacked?"

"Yes," Albus answered Minerva. "The prophecy spoke of someone who would vanquish the Dark Lord. Someone recently born at the time who would grow up to defy him and actually beat him. The only one who could. Unfortunately, a part of this prophecy was revealed to Voldemort by an eavesdropping follower who. And when he found out that both the Potters and the Longbottoms fit the description with both Harry and Neville, he sought to kill the babies before they had a chance to grow into the role."

"So the prophecy spoke of Longbottom," Alastor grunted.

"Yes-"

"We think so-" His brother said at the same time.

"Neville managed to vanquish Voldemort, if only for a period of time." Albus continued as he turned to face everyone, trying to sidestep the argument about Fate that the two of them had had for what felt like their entire lives. "And given what has happened to him throughout his years at Hogwarts, facing Voldemort all these times, it all points to that."

"But Potter was a candidate for the prophecy." Aberforth stepped in. "He was touched by Fate, regardless of the fact that he wasn't the one Voldemort chose to target first."

"Touched by Fate?" Minerva asked

"Fate is a tricky thing," his brother continued. "It's the reason why even after centuries of studying it, it remains one of the biggest mysteries even to wizards. Prophecies never give concrete predictions, only abstract ideas that end up fulfilling themselves with time. If Voldemort had never heard the prophecy or had simply chosen to ignore it, then he wouldn't have been vanquished by Neville all those years ago. Fate interacts with Magic and Free Will, and when talking about prophecies that speak of many possible individuals, then they're all touched by Fate. They can all, in a way, end up being the one the prophecy spoke of, even if it doesn't seem so at first."

"We don't know that for sure," Albus said.

"Yes, we do." Aberforth insisted. "Though the clear option is always the one that ends up fulfilling the prophecy, you can't deny the other candidates are touched by Fate. They lead similar lives and face trials to prepare them. They are even graced with a similar magical strength to the other contenders."

"Are you saying these people are essentially reserves in case the original chosen ones fuck up?" Alastor grunted. "That Fate basically built up a Quidditch team worth of people all over Britain, all of whom could possibly be the one to take down Voldemort in case the one above them fails?"

"I'm saying that they could have a big part to play in the machinations of Fate. And, in an extreme case, someone who is actually the subject of the prophecy who we discarded because the signs pointed to another."

"This is mostly speculation," Albus spoke up. "Ideas that should be researched and studied, but not something we should consider when dealing with prophecies of this degree. As much as you would like to say that the other contenders are touched by Fate, it's not something we can confirm as fact. And given the fact that Neville already vanquished Voldemort once-"

"But he didn't, did he?" Aberforth said. "Voldemort's still out there. He wasn't vanquished, not really. We could be interpreting the prophecy wrong and not even know it."

"We aren't. We can't be."

"You've seen Potter," Aberforth continued. "He's just as powerful as Neville. He was possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, trained by one of his most loyal Death Eaters - one of those who participated in torturing and murdering his own parents! And now he's been sought out by Death Eaters on Voldemort's orders. Potter has faced his own trials and is just as connected to Voldemort as Neville is, and because of that we need to at least start wondering if we were wrong about the whole thing."

"I disregarded Harry quicker than I should have," Albus admitted. "I know that now. I'm not saying Harry won't be involved in the war in some fashion. The boy has the capacity to become a very important piece of the puzzle when he comes of age and is forced to decide what he wants to do. But just because of what we've learnt about Harry and his magical power, that does not mean that we interpreted the prophecy wrong. Harry was possessed by Tom's diary, yes, but it was Neville who vanquished Voldemort's shade. Three times now, he has managed to vanquish Voldemort. We can't ignore that, just like we can't ignore everything else about Harry."

"You're saying the boy is as powerful as Neville?" Minerva asked.

"The boy managed to use Black's own wand," Aberforth said. "A feat not unlike what Neville did when he used his father's old wand."

"Merlin," McGonagall breathed out.

"Nevertheless, Harry is just a child. We do not recruit minors into the Order. No matter how dire the situation may seem or how useful of an asset someone may be."

"Potter's no boy," Alastor snorted. "He hasn't been for a long time now. Lad's been through more than most full-grown men I know. And even though his feats aren't as… grand as Longbottom's, I'd say they're more impressive. Because if anyone is prepared for war, it's Potter."

"I'm not turning him into a soldier-"

Alastor barked out a laugh, interrupting him as he pulled himself up with his staff. "And what about Longbottom? Or Weasley and Granger? Do they not count? Are they not children as well?"

"They're not," Albus said calmly. "I've done my best to make sure they had as normal of a childhood as anyone else in the castle. It's merely their curiosity that has placed them in the centre of events, nothing more. But make no mistake, that does not make them Order members. No matter how much young Neville and his friends would want to be. They've already done so much… the best I can give them now is their last few years of childhood."

"They don't have the luxury of that, Albus. Not in this world. Not with Voldemort back. Potter never had that luxury, and now their time has run out as well. Longbottom and Potter are some of the most powerful wizards in Britain. And though Potter can't rely on his power anymore, he's still a rather skilled duellist, better than most in the Order right now. Granger isn't a complete moron and could actually bring something to the table in terms of research and planning without even having to leave Grimmauld or Shadowfield. Even Weasley has proved himself to be more adept in combat situations than some members of the Order. I'm not saying you go and put these kids on the front line, Albus, but this war's just getting started. The best place they can be to survive is in the Order, supervised, learning what it takes to survive."

"I won't do that," Albus shook his head. "I can't. Even if their parents allowed it, I can't. They're too young."

After a couple of muttered curses and banging his staff on the floor, Alastor turned to him and asked, "What will you do then? Potter's missing with Death Eaters looking for him. Umbridge is doing everything in her power to kick you out of that bloody castle. We need to start doing something against Voldemort, rather than sitting on our arses waiting for Hagrid to tell us he didn't make shit progress with the Giants."

The three turned to look at him. He could feel their eyes bearing onto his as they waited for answers. If it were only that easy. To make the right call without having the benefit of hindsight to see if you were on the right track or not. To be forced to make an impossible choice five times in a single day and bear the consequences if it didn't turn out the way you were hoping. It was easy to lose yourself in wallowing, but he didn't allow himself that. He took a deep breath, calming his mind before he finally spoke.

"We can't move against Voldemort, not right now. We have to wait until he comes out into the open. In the meantime, Severus will inform me of anything of importance happening within Azkaban, as well as his work on the potion. I'll have him try to slow it down and sabotage it in some cases, but with Voldemort and Clotho working on the project personally, it won't be possible to do so for long. Minerva, you and Severus will keep an eye on Neville and his friends. Keep an eye on Severus and inform me of any time you think he steps out of line, I have placed my own methods of surveillance on him but it won't hurt to be sure. Help Neville and the others with anything they need, protect them from Umbridge…" Albus trailed off, the mention of Neville reminding him of yet another problem he had neglected on tackling with everything that had happened over the past month and a half. But with Severus now forbidden about interacting with any student outside the classroom, his previous solution would not work. "Neville's connection to Voldemort remains an issue. I'll ask some of my contacts in the Mind Arts if they would be willing to start tutoring him in Occlumency."

"Is that something you need to run by Augusta?" Minerva asked with pursed lips.

"Yes, but she'll have to forgive me for forgetting about it with everything that's been on my mind recently," Albus said smoothly. "With my appeal to the ICW, the project I'm working on with Ollivander and Mykew for Harry's wand, the hearings from the Wizengamot about my position as Chief Warlock, and… and my duties here within the Order, I'm afraid I won't be at the castle much, Minerva."

"You have to be," she insisted. "Otherwise, Umbridge will use it as the perfect excuse to boot you out of Hogwarts altogether."

"I'm aware," Albus said. "But Umbridge will have me out either way, there's nothing I can do about that. These matters…they can't be ignored. So it'll be on you, Minerva, to take care of Neville and his friends, as well as the rest of the students and staff. Umbridge, while backward in her views, isn't Voldemort. Unfortunately, there are greater priorities at the moment."

"What about Potter?" Aberforth asked.

"We'll keep searching for him until we find him. I'll join in the searches myself, the whole Order will. You're right, Alastor, Harry isn't a boy anymore. There's probably no way he can go back to that again. And with this being his second escape, the best thing we can do with him when we find him is to keep him here at Grimmauld for the time being. We'll continue teaching him, all of us in the Order, we'll teach him theory and practicals ourselves. I can ask Griselda to come to Blackstone and have him take his OWLs there if need be. And when I finish working on his wand, and he's back to a level of normal… we'll give him a choice."

"You really think he'll join us?" Minerva asked. "After what Sirius did to him?"

"The boy's a fighter." Alastor barked out.

"Just because he's a fighter doesn't mean he would want to be involved with this war. Or with us for that matter. We'll give him the option, and even if he refuses, we'll continue taking care of him. We're not grooming people into war. But if anyone has earnt the freedom to choose what they'll do with their life, it's Harry."

"Fair enough," Alastor grunted.

"And the prophecy?" Aberforth asked.

"We'll keep guarding it-"

"No," his brother interrupted him. "Not that. I know that you see Neville as the obvious choice for it-"

"It's not that he's the obvious candidate, it's that he's the only. Neville fulfilled the first part of the prophecy in a way that Harry hasn't. There's no ambiguity about it, not anymore."

"And if we're wrong?"

"You know what the prophecy says, Aberforth. Whoever it's about, they're the ones who will vanquish Voldemort. That doesn't mean we can't help them with all the other important steps to it. And if this is the one-in-a-billion scenario where it doesn't end up being Neville or Harry or anyone we know of, then it's out of our hands. We fulfil our duties for as long as we can, try to prepare Neville… and Harry, if it comes to it… and know we did our best. Beyond that, it's out of our hands."

Out of our hands. Aberforth shared his discontent over the phrase. It's hard accepting there's nothing you can do about something because Fate said so. And in their life riddled and muddled in more than one prophecy, they now knew very well there truly was nothing left to do. Fate would happen, there was no changing that. Dealing with Fate was like pottery, you can't alter the end result. You can't make glass out of its ceramic, can't change the product that will be made of that material. But you can shape it and alter it, mould it to your desires by focusing on that rather than keeping a stubborn worldview and fighting against it.

It was the reason why he could never understand his brother's insistence on prophecies and attempt to subvert them. His belief that anyone else who fit the prophecy in its infancy, regardless of how events had turned out, could still be the one to fulfil it. It was irrational, something he had thought Aberforth had outgrown years ago. But it was clear he hadn't, and if Albus was honest, a part of him wished his brother was right. Maybe if he had been, things could have been different for them.

But he wasn't allowed to ponder much about his past and prophecy, for even after Alastor and Minerva excused themselves from the room, the discussion was far from over. Aberforth used his wand to lock the door and applied a couple of privacy charms to it in the process.

"Why didn't you tell them?" He asked him as soon as he put his wand away. "They deserve to know, someone besides the two of us has to."

"Because if we're right, and Tom survived by making a Horcrux… then that's the type of information that's best to keep quiet."

"What do you mean if? Do you know any other way of returning from the grave than without the use of a Horcrux?"

"No-"

"Albus, I know what Tom meant to you. And I know you've accepted his past redemption at this point. But he did it… he completed the Thirteen Trials, and he split his soul. It would explain everything about him, his sudden change when you met him again, how he managed to use the Pair Dadeni to regain a body. All of it."

"It's not that," Albus said. "It's… the Thirteen Trials are no easy fit. Magically, mentally, emotionally, however you want to see them. They take a toll. I just can't believe Tom actually completed them all before he even reached fifteen. In less than a year, on top of that."

"Well, he did, Albus. It's time we accept that. Have you talked to Slughorn? If anyone gave him access to the Manuscript, it was him."

"No, not yet-"

"You said you were going to do it last month."

"I know," Albus sighed. "I do. But January ended up being more complicated than we first thought. I've managed to do the interviews."

"Which ones?"

"Tom's uncle Morfin and Hepzibah's house-elf; Hokey. There is a lot more that we have to do, but we're making progress."

"Well, at least that's something," Aberforth conceded unwillingly. "Especially now that Voldemort has taken over Azkaban. I doubt Morfin will last long, if he's still alive, that is."

"I'll reach out to Slughorn soon, but not right now. This situation with Harry has only complicated things further. I simply don't have time for that now, and since we know where Slughorn is either way, our focus should be the interviews."

"I'll keep carrying them out in your stead," Aberforth said gruffly. "I may not be as renowned as you, but I have my influence. But Albus… you need to stop."

"Stop?"

"This. All of this. Your appeal to the ICW, your involvement in fixing a wand for Harry, your attempts at maintaining your position as Chief Warlock, all the time you spend at Hogwarts. You're stretching yourself too thin, have been ever since the first war ended. By trying to be in all places at once, accepting all these high-maintenance, time-consuming jobs, you're doing a piss poor job at all of them. The ICW was just waiting for a scandal to remove you from your position because they think you're not cutting it anymore, and even without the Ministry on our backs, you barely manage to dedicate any time to your position as Chief Warlock because you barely have time!"

"I didn't accept all those positions because I wanted them, Aberforth," Albus said gravely. "I didn't want them, you know that. My place is at Hogwarts, as it always has been. But they needed me. With Gellert and then Tom, they needed someone qualified for the job. I'm just trying to do my part here."

"Albus, you're the smartest man I know. But you can be really stupid sometimes. You're blinded by what you feel is your duty - a way to pay your penance - that you don't realize you're only making things worse by splitting your focus. If you had dedicated yourself to being Headmaster, you would have noticed what was happening with Harry immediately. If you had dedicated yourself to the Wizengamot, you could have brought numerous changes that would put us in a better position in this war that we're now facing. You could have strengthened foreign relations and have more of their aid if you had focused on the ICW and if you had focused on Voldemort and the prophecy immediately, we could have already found all those Horcruxes by the time Voldemort was resurrected. But instead, by you trying to do everything, we accomplished nothing. You can't keep going like this."

"It's not that simple." Albus said, not knowing how he got the words out."

"No, it's not," Aberforth admitted. "Nothing ever is. I'm not saying you didn't do any good or that there wouldn't have been other repercussions if other people got your positions instead of you. But you crippled yourself by splitting your focus so much that you didn't allow your mind to work its wonders. And with Voldemort back and the war closer to our doorstep with every passing moment, we can't afford to sit around and do nothing anymore. The Order is in dire need of leadership, as is this whole war. You can't waste your time on anything else at the moment, because if you do, then it all goes to shit.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I can't make that decision for you," Aberforth said brusquely. "But if you continue on this path, letting your guilt drive you and your mind split in seven different places, you'll get nothing done. You can't lead the Order like that. Can't do anything like that. If you actually want to do your penance and honour Ariana's memory, you're gonna have to make up your mind. And fast."

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter will begin the next art titled Irreconcilable Differences. Be excited!

By the time I'm posting this, I'm ELEVEN chapters ahead, and I have started the arc titled Lost Souls, which is one of the final arcs before we reach the climax of fifth-year! If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)