CHAPTER 77: Lost Souls (Part 1)

Headmaster's Office

March 21st, 1996

1:50 p.m.

"I warned you, Albus," the High Inquisitor said, but there was no anger in her voice. Nor was it riddled with the smugness he had expected from Dolores once she finally figured out a way to push him out of Hogwarts altogether. There was pity. Not with any semblance of compassion, that wasn't something Albus thought Dolores had in her where it concerned him. The look she gave him was more reminiscent of a daughter placing a parent in a nursing home after their mind had crumbled, and their body gave up on them.

There was a hint of revulsion tainting her words.

"Madam Umbridge-"

"Headmistress Umbridge, Albus." She said firmly. "The governors have made up their mind, there's no changing that."

"Headmistress Umbridge," Albus repeated calmly. "I realise the gravity of the situation with Mister Longbottom, his case is one that should be handled by the right people. And though the consequences it wrought were most unfortunate, your proposed solution was not a viable one."

"Not viable?"

"While you have grounds for your concerns about the risks many students at Hogwarts have faced over the past five years, depriving them of magic will not help the situation. And taking their wands away, even if they would be authorised to use them under teacher supervision, is completely unacceptable."

"You can't possibly be serious?" Her voice was shrill, and the effort it took for her to contain herself from screaming was clear for him to see. "Beyond the alleged goings-on of the last four years, the events of this year have been rather telling on your leadership skills. A student was murdered in this very castle, with many others having been gruesomely hurt. And not even a full month passed before another student was murdered in Hogsmeade-"

"It was not me who authorised the unrestrained Hogsmeade visits, Dolores," Albus said, a hint of steel in his soft words.

"Perhaps not, and Miss Bones' death will remain on my conscience for the rest of my life, but Hogsmeade trips were established long ago. I understand the futility of cancelling them just as much as you do. Especially without probable cause."

"I believe the Dark Lord's return to be sufficient-"

"Silence," Dolores nearly snarled, eliciting a dejected sigh from Albus. "Your regard for Mister Longbottom and your humouring of his delusions might have been endearing at first, a way of supporting the child through a traumatic event. But your insistence on this fallacy is exactly the reason why you're not fit to be Headmaster any longer. It is because of that very attitude, along with your very clear efforts to undermine me and the authority of the Ministry, that I have yet to make any real progress. If you had allowed me to bring Aurors into the school when I asked, young Mister Montague's life might have been saved. And if you had given me your blessing to forbid students from keeping their wands outside their classrooms, we wouldn't have had three children in the hospital wing. You're a brilliant man, Albus, no one would deny that. But the impact you have had on this school is one that is clearly negative, and students have suffered for it. I don't do this with pride or joy, everyone is well aware of what the role of Headmaster means to you. But the Ministry can't stand by and allow you to remain as Headmaster when you're clearly ill-suited to the position."

Albus remained seated in his chair, relishing in its feeling for perhaps the last time. When he'd first learnt that Dolores had gone behind his back to the governors and managed to convince them to dismiss him, he'd wanted to fight. And there were various ways he could if not retain his post, at least delay the Ministry. It was the reason why he'd left Harry's side in Grimmauld and come back to Hogwarts. But the impact you have had on this school is one that is clearly negative, and the students have suffered for it. With one sentence, all his fight had dissipated entirely. There was nothing else he could say, not with Harry lying in a bed at Grimmauld Place, with the vile, gruesome scar staring up at him as Albus remained by his side. And he hadn't been the only student Albus had failed. Cedric Diggory, Ginny Weasley… Neville. As much as he might dislike the Ministry outmanoeuvring him for the purpose of discrediting his warning against Tom's return, perhaps the school would be safer in Umbridge's hands.

As much as Albus wanted to claim this was an unjust intervention, he had no one to blame but himself. It was his own failures that put him in this situation, Dolores was merely exploiting that fact.

"Very well," he slowly stood up, his hands lingering on his desk for just a moment longer before he began to walk around it as Dolores mirrored his actions.

"As I said, Albus, I take no pleasure in this. If it were up to me, I'd be back at the Ministry rather than here. Regardless… I appreciate you not complicating this process." Running her fingers across the table, she gently sat down on the Headmaster's chair and took a moment for herself. "I understand you have resided in the castle for a long time now. So please, do not feel pressured to vacate your sleeping quarters. I am more than willing to sleep with the rest of the professors for a week or two while you gather your belongings."

Albus forced a small smile upon his face. "How very kind, Dolores. I will take you up on that offer. I wish you good luck with this new endeavour, and if you need any assistance on my part, know that I will be more than happy to help."

"Of course," she said, though Albus got the feeling it was mostly a formality.

Albus turned as he made to leave, and he made sure to reach the door and grasp the knob before hesitating. "If I might impose…" he began, though chose to keep his eyes fixed on the door. "Would you mind satisfying my curiosity for a moment?"

"Curiosity over what?"

"The governors' response to the 223rd Educational Decree. I assume you've already gone to them with it?"

"There was no need. As Headmistress, I had the power to implement it without going to them for authorization."

"Yes, of course. But such a drastic move... you're not so naive as to implement it without proposing it to the governors."

Dolores said nothing for a moment, before nodding her head in assent. "You'd be correct with that assumption."

Albus opened the door and turned to her. "Thank you," he told her, and a moment later he was stepping down the stairs of the tower. He didn't rush his way across the castle, taking every second he could to admire its beauty. Albus had lived most of his life inside Hogwarts. He'd walked through every hall and found every secret passageway, and as he strolled through them, he saw shades of people he used to know. Students and teachers that had long since left the castle. Memories that used to bring him joy, those that used to fill his heart with a sense of peace had suddenly turned sad. This didn't feel like a temporary leave, even if he sorted out his conflict with the Ministry and proved the Dark Lord's return, there was a sense of finality in Dolores' actions. After spending decades thinking he would pass away within the walls of Hogwarts, the realisation that this may be the last time he walked down these corridors left him with a cold, empty feeling in his heart as a sense of melancholy began to creep along his skin.

The students stared as he passed by, the news of his termination was sure to have spread across the student body by this point. But Albus didn't pick up his pace or keep to the less travelled routes. Even after he'd failed his students, seeing them for a final time would have been preferable to not getting the chance. There was a reason why he loved this job, why he'd chosen to pay his due to the wizarding world by becoming Headmaster. It had been a privilege to see generation after generation of witches and wizards grow before his eyes. He was only sorry they would be the last.

Twenty minutes passed before he reached the ground floor. Making his way through the Middle Courtyard, Albus reached his destination and knocked lightly on the door. A couple of moments passed before it was brusquely opened.

"Albus?" Minerva asked before ushering him inside. Neither of them spoke until they had crossed the classroom and settled themselves inside Minerva's office. "I didn't expect you until later. How did Dolores take it?"

"I didn't fight it," Albus said softly.

"Why not?" Minerva shouted.

"With Tom gaining ground outside, my time is better spent aiding the Order. While it is unfortunate, it's what's necessary if we are to win this war. If I'm honest, stepping aside is something I should have done the moment Neville told me what had really happened in the graveyard."

"But to leave the school to that… that woman! You know what she will do the moment you step out of the castle."

"From what Dolores told me, she didn't bother on waiting. She'll be implementing the 223rd Educational Decree by tonight, I'm sure."

"She's taking the student's wands!?"

"In essence," Albus said dejectedly. "From how she presented the idea to me, she won't be confiscating them herself. The wands will be stored in the teacher's lounge, and if a teacher deems them necessary - after receiving Dolores' approval, of course - they will be allowed to hand them out to the students for the duration of the class."

"But still-"

"I know, Minerva."

"Have the governors…?"

"Yes," Albus said. "That's the root of my current concerns. Mister Malfoy is just one of various presumed Death Eaters who are governors of Hogwarts. I fear they have entertained Dolores' proposal because they see an opportunity if young Neville were to remain unarmed for the remainder of the term."

"Albus, if Death Eaters manage to infiltrate the castle and Mister Longbottom has no wand… he'll have no chance. If they don't execute him on sight, they'll take him to Voldemort so that he can finish the boy off himself!"

" Hogwarts' wards should be strong enough to hold any invading forces back after our efforts to strengthen them over this past summer. So long as Neville stays within Hogwarts grounds, he should be safe. His Hogsmeade privileges have been revoked after his attack on the Slytherins, but you will have to make sure he doesn't sneak out of the castle. As much as I hate passing on the responsibility to you, Minerva, there's not much of a choice. It is imperative you keep a close watch on young Neville."

Grimmauld Place

March 22nd, 1996

9:40 a.m.

There was pain. Every muscle in his body burned through him, almost melting the skin and bones around them. It was so overwhelming it took Harry a few minutes to realise he was awake. Laying in a bed. Alive. He heard the voices shortly after that, murmurs from far away, yet they were as clear as day. His body tensed as flashes of what had happened the previous night began to assault him. Montague Manor. Dolohov. Elijah.

How was he alive?

After everything that happened, how completely drained his body had felt as Elijah kept beating him and stabbing him… he was dead. He had to be. And yet he wasn't. The realisation didn't bring him any joy or peace, especially as the images of all the dead men around him began to flood his mind. It was all flashes. Distorted and twisted, completely out of order and useless for his situation. Any effort towards obtaining a clearer picture of the events proved itself to be futile, and the vacant feeling in his hand gave him no confidence to open his eyes and search his surroundings.

Harry attempted to mimic a sleeping person's slow breathing as the paranoia overtook him. And it wasn't until the voices from outside began to fade away that he pulled on his courage and took a brief glance at his environment. His eyes hadn't been open for more than a second, but it was easy to recognise the walls of Grimmauld Place. And if that wasn't just perfect, a wrinkled, bearded face had caught his eyes during the fleeting moment he'd opened them.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was soft and tired, it sounded as if the man had barely got any sleep.

Fucking Grimmauld Place. Had he really been so desperate to flee from Montague that he would return to this hellish dump? A sudden spike of fear nearly shut down his heart as he saw Elijah's cruel expression, and he felt his knife stabbing at his gut over and over again. Had he really been that desperate? When it came to the Montagues, he really shouldn't even have to ask that question. Harry forced himself up, pushing through the agony as all of his muscles suddenly exploded inside him, and laid his back on the headrest.

He may be back at Grimmauld Place, but he would not be anyone's inferior. Never again.

"What the fuck is going on?" Harry asked, keeping eye contact with Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid you beat me to the question, Harry," Dumbledore said with a soft smile. "From what Aberforth told me, you suddenly showed up at our doorstep, you managed to open the door and throw yourself inside before passing out. You had sustained some rather heavy wounds, but from what Andromeda told me everything seems to have healed properly. The cuts have been sealed, and the internal bleeding has been reduced greatly."

"Then why do I feel like shit?" Harry gritted out.

"That would be due to the heavy magical exhaustion you've somehow managed to put your body through. I have never seen a case as drastic as yours if I'm honest. For a moment there I couldn't even sense your magical core with my detection charms. Not that you can fully deplete your magic to the point it's gone, but you had used so much of it that you had begun pulling from the magic that works on keeping your body going. And given the magnitude of your injuries, you have been unconscious for the past five days."

"Five days!" Harry immediately shot upward, almost jumping on top of his bed before Dumbledore placed his hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down to rest. "I have to go."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that. Especially with the condition in which you came back. It's for your own personal safety."

"My own personal safety," He scoffed, pulling himself back up again and putting on his shoes. "I can think of seven different places I feel safer at than here. And believe that for me… that's really saying something."

"I still can't allow you to leave."

"I wasn't looking for your permission, sir. Because if I don't leave before seven days pass, every dirty secret the Order has tried to hide will be revealed in an exclusive to the Prophet. And somehow… I get the feeling protecting that is more important than my so-called safety."

"Kreacher," Dumbledore said softly as the realisation dawned on him.

"And Regulus' portrait. Not that I think you actually knew it was here this whole time. The two of them helped me move around the magical vow you made me swear a few days after Black put me down in the cell. How is the old fucker, actually?" Harry gave Dumbledore a spiteful smile. "You know, I might just go down and visit him before I leave."

"Harry… the secrecy of the Order is critical for its survival. Who did you tell about us?"

"None of your fucking business," Harry spat, standing on his own two feet even as they shook and wobbled. "I learn from my mistakes, Professor. If you think I'm going to be anyone's captive ever again, you have truly misjudged me."

Dumbledore seemed oddly hurt, though it didn't stop him from looking at Harry as if he were some wounded deer in the middle of the street. "I was only trying to help-"

"I don't need your help," he snarled, walking towards the door only to be stopped when Dumbledore slowly moved to stand in his path. "I don't want it. I did well enough for myself in the past month and a half. I can do it again."

"It's often those who deny help who need it the most."

"Give me my wand-"

"I believe that's Sirius' wand you're speaking of."

"Well, given how he snapped mine I'd call it a fair trade."

"And what will you do once I give it to you?" Dumbledore asked.

"What will I do?" Harry scoffed, hating the pitying look on Dumbledore's face. "You want to know what I'm going to do? What I've been doing since I paid back Black and locked him down in my old cell? You really want to know?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, and the calmness in his voice finally broke through his defences as Harry saw red.

"I'm going to hunt down Elijah Montague, and I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip every single one of his bones out of his body until all that's left is skin and organs. That's what I'm going to do. What I've done ever since I got out of this hellhole. I've been hunting down all the lowlifes and scum Montague uses for his dirty work. And I put them all down. I forced them to tell me what I needed to know before I killed them. And you know what… they got off easy in my opinion. While you morons have been in here doing jack shit about Voldemort, I was out there doing what was fucking necessary. I was killing the pieces of shit that would have joined him the second he revealed himself. And you know what, I take pride in that fucking shit."

"I know," Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence. "Alastor put it together nearly three weeks ago."

"You knew?" Harry whispered, his voice trembling, though Harry was not sure if it was out of shock or hatred. "All this time you knew? And you what- you didn't tell anyone? You didn't tell Scrimgeour or try to stop me? Three full fucking weeks you waited and you… you did nothing? You just sat by and let me butcher those men?"

"Alastor was trying to find you-"

"Bullshit! If Alastor fucking Moody were truly trying to find me, he would have done so. Why the fuck didn't you intervene?"

"Intervene how? I sent Alastor to find you, and while I can't speak to just how much effort he put into the search, we tried to find you and bring you in. We had Order members looking all over the country. What would be the point of bringing Scrimgeour into this, he would not see past your actions. He'd arrest you on sight the next time he saw you. And if he had, it wouldn't have helped anyone. It would have been a big mistake."

"A mistake?" Harry roared.

"Punishment or penitence," Dumbledore said simply. "It's something I've debated a lot over these past five decades. To punish an individual for their crimes without allowing them the opportunity to change, to give back… it would help no one. It won't undo whatever was done. If it's good for something, it's appeasing the masses. But to try and help someone… to make them see the light and right their wrongs, the potential of good it could bring is immeasurable. We aren't meant to be spiteful, to harbour resentment and let it guide our decisions. I still believe every person in this world still has something to offer if they strive for redemption."

Harry laughed. It was an uncontrollable, maniacal laugh that he was sure Dolohov would have been proud of. "Redemption. That's a fucking lie. Go. Go ahead. Try to redeem fucking Voldemort. Try to redeem Dolohov and all the other Death Eaters. See how they repay you. If you truly believe what you just said then you're wholly fucked in the head. You should have Andromeda check you out just to make sure the dementia hasn't taken over."

"Is that so? Don't your actions prove me right?"

"My actions?"

"There was a clear change in your methodology, Harry. It was as clear to me as I'm sure it was to the Aurors. I don't know what happened, but something changed inside you. You say you took pride in what you did, but I'm inclined to say that that's a lie. Because if you really had been, you wouldn't have toned down your attacks on Montague's men. You wouldn't have stopped killing them and using all those heinous methods you used to torture them. Even after everything Sirius did, you didn't kill him. Even after being unrepentant towards your victims, you still managed to see what was wrong with your actions and change. All of this without any input from me or anyone in the Order. And you still don't believe someone can be redeemed?"

"Harry…" Dumbledore's voice was soft, and there was something in it that got through Harry's anger for a brief moment. That made him wonder just what Albus Dumbledore had done to truly be able to understand. "What was done to you… people like you - victims - most become more cynical and violent after all that is done to them. And after what you suffered it's completely normal for you to have turned out like this. But that doesn't mean you have to stay that way. You can still change. We can help you. But you have to talk about this."

"So that's it, huh?" Harry said in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or scream. "So what… I had a quick change of mind, and suddenly I'm good. I stopped killing those arseholes and all is forgiven. Who cares about all the other sorry sons of bitches that I tore through. What if I actually enjoyed doing all of that, relished in their pain, in the feeling of power it brought me? The feeling of peace. What does it fucking matter, right? You know, because now I feel bad about it and that's all that's important."

"I'm not saying that, Harry." Dumbledore offered.

"No, no, no. You know what? You've saved me, Professor. I might just head out tonight and kill more of the filth I meet and then come back, with a tear in my eye and my smile upside down, and claim how sorry I am. Surely that will save me. Surely that will suddenly mend my soul from the cracks that are already there. Let me just tell Voldemort and all the other Death Eaters, and they'll be really happy to know that if they manage to feel just a tinsy bit sad about their whole planned genocide, the Ministry might forgive them. Who knows, maybe they'll even get a medal for doing such a brave thing."

"It's a start, isn't it? How can we hope to change if we never let ourselves feel remorse for our mistakes? How can we start to make amends?"

"That's not making amends. That's making bullshit excuses to make me feel better about myself. How is that helping with what I did? I can't bring them back, even if I wanted to see those bastards still walking. I can't go back in time. It doesn't change what I did. What I am."

"Punishing yourself for what you did won't help anyone, least of all you," Dumbledore said.

"So I should just stop thinking about it and turn a new leaf? Change my name and how I look and what? Start over? It doesn't matter what I did, let me save a couple of people and throw a fucking party in my name for being such a wonderful person? No matter how rotten my soul has got, just… forget? Ignore? No. I don't believe that. Me… I'm beyond redemption. In the end, Black was right… I'm a monster. And nothing I do will change that."

Parkinson Palace

10:20 a.m.

Harry had been happy when Dumbledore and the others hadn't put much more resistance and allowed him to leave, even giving him Black's wand back. The threat he'd made to Dumbledore hadn't been a made-up gambit, it was something he'd discussed with Bedivere right before he left for 37 Castle Hill Road. It was one of the reasons why he'd made his way back to Parkinson Palace, even if his body had made him suffer for it. Unfortunately, when he first arrived he quickly noticed the spotters around the manor.

"Montague's men," Harry snarled to himself before quickly standing to leave. "The fucker must still be looking for me."

He made his way to Woodhaerst, a small wizarding village that was far enough away Harry was confident Montague's men weren't posted there. Using the last of the galleons he'd earnt from his essay business at Hogwarts he bought himself an invisibility cloak. It was a cheap model, one that would surely not last for more than a week. But it did the job as he managed to sneak into Parkinson Palace without raising any flags from the near dozen men that were surrounding the manor.

But even as he entered the manor, he didn't remove his cloak. He strolled about the corridors until he reached Bedivere's study. And thankfully, the man was already there. Waiting. Staring right at him.

"You can take it off, Harry. Mister Montague's men were not allowed to remain within the Palace."

Harry blinked before gathering his composure and pulling off the cloak. "How did you-"

"I'm the Head of the Department of Mysteries. And though there are various thorough explanations I could give you, we both have more pressing matters to address."

"Montague came to you?" Harry asked, taking the offered seat.

"Indeed."

"And you let him inside? You know his men are out there, and you're doing nothing about it?"

"So long as they remain outside the wards, I won't have to do anything. But given my position within the Death Eaters, it's best to keep up appearances with the other members. You've become quite the target in your absence. It's good to see Montague didn't manage to kill you. I'm sure he half-believes he did, but he wants proof of that."

"He knows about 37 Castle Hill Road."

"I'm aware," Bedivere said calmly. "And though usually, I'd offer you safe harbour, I'm afraid that won't be possible. After this conversation, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"And go where?"

"I'm trying to find you a place where you can stay, though it'll take at least one more week if I want to do so without Mister Montague, the Knights, or the Death Eaters he fraternizes with finding out. For now, I'd recommend you go back to wherever you were held up."

Harry bit his lip but didn't say anything. He wouldn't whine and ask for handouts, Bedivere had done enough already. A week at Grimmauld wouldn't be so bad.

"Well, then what do we need to address before I leave? Is there any progress with the Horcruxes or the potion?"

"Yaxley has said little of his search on the other Horcruxes in our most recent meetings, however, I'm happy to announce the first version of the dementor treatment has been completed."

"Did it work?"

"We faced complications, but Circe and I are working on them."

"And Voldemort?"

"The Dark Lord," Bedivere stressed. "Came back to check the results before adding his input and leaving again. He's been spending quite a bit of time abroad, I'm beginning to get concerned. Whatever he's searching for… I'm convinced it comes from his time in Rookwood's mind. The sooner we figure out what he saw the better for us."

"So again, nothing we can do about it." Harry scoffed. "You know, I'm beginning to hate that response from you."

"Unfortunately, war isn't as fast-paced as most history books would suggest. You're going to have to build up your patience if you wish to endure it."

"I know, I know."

"Besides, the time our enemy takes to plan his next move is the same time we have to prepare our defence for it. And that's how we must play this. Our goal is not to stop the Death Eater takeover of Britain, that will happen sooner or later. Our goal is to hold it back for as long as we can and use that additional time to find all of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes and destroy them. Only then can we begin employing an offensive strategy."

"It's better to make Voldemort-"

"The Dark Lord."

"Fine," Harry spat. "The Dark Lord. It's better to make him believe he's winning and put his focus on taking over the Ministry rather than worrying about how we might attack as it would lead him to think of his Horcruxes. I get the gist, I do. I'm just tired of waiting, that's all."

"Then let us focus on our problem at hand. I was sure you were capable of beating Mister Montague fairly easily. What happened?"

"The bastard used his men as bait, they managed to wear my magic out. By the time I got back to 37 Castle Hill Road, I was useless, barely standing. And Montague was there waiting for me."

"A mistake I assume you will not repeat."

"No," Harry gritted out. "But that doesn't change the problem. Between all the scum that hangs about at the myriad of shitty pubs around the country as well as the contacts from the Knights and the Death Eaters, Montague just has too many men. If I'm going to fight him I can't do it with Black's wand - or anyone else's for that matter. I need my wand."

"You can't always rely on your wand, Harry. It's time you learn to manage yourself without it." Bedivere said calmly, though Harry was not about him to let him dodge the subject.

"Does that mean you've made shit all progress with the one thing I've asked of you?"

"I've looked into it, but my response hasn't changed in the two months you've given me. I will keep trying to find solutions for you, but I can't make any promises. But that's beside the point because Mister Montague has made it pretty clear he isn't interested in this being a duel. He's smart enough to sense he'd be outclassed, even with this other wand you're using. If you are determined to beat this man, you must think like him. Play his game."

"I don't have as many pawns as he has. I can't do a lot of manoeuvring here."

"I'm not asking that of you," Bedivere explained. "Even with my resources, you'd be outclassed against the Knights. But from what my granddaughter has confided in me, that has never stopped you before. You're a Slytherin, Harry, a very good one even if your main impulse is to solve conflicts with your wand. For once… lay down your wand. Put down your holster. You can't blow up a chessboard and claim yourself the winner. The only way to beat a man like Mister Montague is to sit down, use what few pieces you have, and outsmart him."

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

Next chapter Harry speaks with the three most prominent adults in his life as he's forced to decide how to continue. Be excited!

By the time I'm posting this, I'm ELEVEN chapters ahead, and I have am nearly finished the arc titled Life Sentence, which is the final arc before the climax of 5th year begins! 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! :)