CHAPTER 84: Checkmate (Part 4)

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

April 15th, 1996

9:35 a.m.

"Ah, Albus," Rufus greeted him with a cordial smile, and if Albus thought it looked just a little too pleased with itself, he didn't comment on it. "Perfect time to pay me a visit. I was just about to ask you here myself."

The two men exchanged a few procedural niceties before they stepped into Rufus' office. And even though it had been Albus who had come here, Rufus was the one controlling the situation. Guiding the conversation. It became apparently clear that this wouldn't be the quick meeting he had hoped for.

"I'm here about Miss Granger, as I'm sure you know."

"I assumed so, yes," Rufus waved his hand and the chair in front of his desk scooted back just enough for Albus to take a seat. "However, I am curious as to why you've taken an interest in this matter."

"She's a student of mine."

"You're not Headmaster anymore, Albus." The words weren't unkind, but Albus couldn't help but give a small sigh at the reminder. "She was your student for many years, I can appreciate that. But you have no responsibility over her. Nor any power."

"She was taken by the Aurors yesterday afternoon and has remained in holding overnight. Her parents are concerned, they contacted me personally to seek out any news about her."

Rufus slowly took a sip of his cup, carefully analysing Albus as he did. "If news is what you want, then I'll get in contact with them as soon as we're done here. I'll even allow them limited access to their daughter for the time being. But we both know that's not why you're here."

"Head Auror Scrimgeour, I'm not here to impose or conflict with any investigation you're conducting, but I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree with Miss Granger. She's not a troublemaker or someone who takes pleasure in breaking the rules. Any Hogwarts professor who has taught her for even a lesson would be able to vouch for that."

"I've met Miss Granger. Talked to her quite a few times over the past months. She's a good person, anyone can see that. It's not my wish to keep her here for longer than needed. Unfortunately, she has found herself involved in one of our most important investigations and has remained unwilling to cooperate."

"If I may ask, what investigation is that?"

Rufus didn't answer with words, instead, he reached for one of his drawers and pulled out a large folder with the words 'Harry Potter' written boldly on it. Albus knew this, of course. Kingsley had warned him in their meeting last night where the subject of Miss Granger had first been brought to his attention. Still, Albus almost heard Fate laughing in his ear as the case of Harry Potter continued to take centre stage in his life. Of course, it was also the contents inside the folder that put Albus on edge.

"Don't be shy," Rufus said as Albus stared at the folder. "You're more than welcome to read."

It wasn't voiced an invitation, and Albus wasn't fond of the idea of revisiting Harry's past, but he picked up the folder either way. He leafed through it slowly, just enough as to not risk revealing his inner knowledge of the situation, but it was still enough for his eyes to pick up new details of Harry's life he had missed. When Severus had told him everything, it had been in a rushed, glossed-over manner. He didn't take the time to delve into the details and nuances of Harry's life beyond the more tragic events. But reading through interviews of the muggle neighbours' experiences seeing Harry hassled by the Dursleys and the ways some of his very own students talked about Harry in his early years at Hogwarts made it all the more real.

"I… I had no idea," Albus said as Rufus waited for a response.

"Negligence isn't an excuse," Rufus said coldly. "It's the crime. It's the very reason why Potter is now out there, murdering any drunk and crook he stumbles across when he walks across the street."

It was the truth. He'd known it, but it was so very different to hear someone actually say it to him. He felt like he had just been punched with the way his breath was swept from him, and when he could finally speak his voice came out just above a whisper. "Why haven't you arrested me yet?"

"Because you were telling the truth. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. And we both know that the only person he ever feared… was you, Albus." Rufus said his name with such distaste and a look on his face… it had been decades since someone had looked at him with such distaste. "I will arrest you… once He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. Truly dead, this time."

He could see it in Rufus' face. There was no mending his mistakes, nothing he could do to evade the Head Auror's wrath. Even if it was the last thing he did, Rufus would see Albus behind bars. And even if he didn't live to see it, Rufus would ensure it. And given the folder in his hands, and the memories of that boy who he had damned with his incompetence. Albus couldn't say anything other than: "Very well."

Rufus nodded, though he didn't look delighted by it. "I expect a much more hands-on approach, Albus. In the past war, you remained out of the conflict. Only helping out by responding to the Death Eater attacks where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself showed up rather than helping in the proactive effort to defeat him. You won't get that luxury this time. I'm not keeping you from justice only for you to return to Hogwarts or the Wizengamot or even the ICW. Even if having you there could have been useful in the past, your reputation has been tarnished enough you won't get those positions back, even after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reveals himself. No, this time, you come to work for me. For the DMLE. You help with the real effort to stop the Death Eaters."

"This is the wrong move, Rufus," Albus spoke up. "Without me at Hogwarts, the students will be left defenseless."

"The castle's wards are strong enough to protect them, and the Ministry has no intention of abandoning its hold on the school. We'll protect the students, leaving you to help protect everyone else."

Albus opened his mouth, thinking about all the possible ramifications this could have. With the prophecy. The Horcruxes. The Order. But he couldn't say any of it without risking the entire war effort. Any information about either of these things could easily get back to Tom. And though Albus knew that Rufus would never turn to the Death Eaters, there were too many people within the Ministry reporting back to Tom. And though Rufus was a good man and a fierce soldier, he would have to evaluate greatly if it was wise to bring him into the fold and reveal everything to him. His views on the Order were an open secret to anyone who knew the man.

"You start early morning tomorrow, Albus," Rufus said once it became clear Albus wasn't going to say anything. "Don't be late."

After nodding, Albus stood up, understanding the dismissal, and headed towards the door. But before he opened it and left the office, he turned around for a final time. "What of Miss Granger? What can I tell her parents."

Rufus reached into his drawer one more time and pulled out a stack of parchments, a quill, and an ink holder. "You do not need to tell them anything. I will put myself in contact with them, just like I told you I would. You're not in charge anymore, Albus. I suggest you get used to it."

Albus sighed, giving one final nod and opening the door before Rufus called out to him. "It's highly unusual for a Headmaster to be as involved with the life of a student as you seemingly are with the life of Miss Granger. Or Mister Longbottom. Or even the Weasleys. I wonder… what would have become of Harry Potter if you had shown him a shred of the attention you showed those three Gryffindors."

Albus didn't give a reply, nor did he even turn back. Instead, forcing himself to keep his head up, he began walking away. And as he made his way out of the Ministry and towards the floos, those words danced around his mind, repeating themselves over and over again. What would have been of Harry Potter if he hadn't trusted Severus like he had? If he had just checked on the boy a few times over the years. If he hadn't discarded him after it had been revealed young Neville had been the subject of the prophecy.

He had thought he had grown in the decades since his reckless youth. That he'd grown into a better man, a wiser man. One who would not commit the same mistakes he had. But now he knew he hadn't. And there was no better reminder of that than Aberforth waiting for him in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

"That bad, huh?"

As if acting on pure muscle memory, Aberforth stood up, motioning Albus to take his chair, and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky from one of the cupboards. Serving two glasses, Aberforth handed one to him and the two of them shared a sip. No words were said. They weren't even looking at each other. But after everything that had happened between them, that was as good as their relationship would get.

It was more than he deserved, either way.

"Did you get to see the Granger girl?" Aberforth asked after another sip.

"No, Rufus didn't even allow me the opportunity to ask. He's getting in touch with the Grangers as we speak, but from how he spoke, I doubt he'll let her go anytime soon."

"Umbridge."

"Indeed."

Silence filled the room once again as their only topic of conversation was done. Usually, he would have told him more. Explained everything else that had happened in the meeting, but everything seemed so bleak he couldn't really put it into words. And so the two kept drinking that way, waiting for one of them to finish their glass first so that either of them could leave. Aberforth was the first, rushing through the last drops of the glass, but Albus stopped him before he could fully stand up.

"You were right."

Three simple words, but ones he said so rarely together. Ones he had never told his own brother. Through over a century of disagreements and fights, Albus had never mustered up the courage to say that - even when he knew it and thought it. Aberforth looked stricken, staring at him in a mix of shock and confusion that made Albus think he was going to suddenly combust in front of his brother.

"Pardon?"

"A few months ago when you told me what I was doing was wrong - that I was spreading myself too thin. You were right. Everything I've done since I heard Tom had returned to Britain has been the wrong move. I was so consumed with trying to fix my mistake I only made it worse. And now with Harry somewhere out there… and the Ministry having taken over Hogwarts… I don't know how to fix it."

"Yes, you do, brother," Aberforth said. "You just don't want to accept it."

"You're wrong," Albus said quietly. "I wish that weren't the case, but it is. All the mistakes I've made began with my attempts to convince myself I was fit to be the leader. We nearly lost the war before young Neville stopped Tom. And now… the Order has never been as broken as it currently is."

"They look up to you."

"Because of what they think of me. Not because of who I truly am." Albus took another sip of his drink. "I may have been the one marked by Fate to take down Gellert, but you were the one leading us back then. You were the true hero, brother. Our leader. You were the one who stopped Gellert, I was just the one with the pretty bird. It should have been you who took down Gellert."

"Don't you dare," Aberforth said gruffly. "We both know Fate didn't choose you. So you don't get to back down. Not now. You want to make this right? This is how. There's no easy path, no option where you just get to dump it all on me so that you can mope. You were the one who cast that spell… this is your burden."

Albus looked down, not being able to match the fierce look in his brother's eyes. And though a part of him wanted to stay quiet, his curiosity took over. It had been nearly fifty years since they last talked of the prophecy… Albus doubted he would get another chance.

"…do you ever think about it? What would have happened if I… if it had gone the other way."

Aberforth didn't reply, not for a couple of moments, and once he did, his voice was rather hollow. "I used to. A lot. I used to put myself in your shoes. Thought of what I would have done if I... But at some point, I simply stopped. I realised it was not my place… nor did I ever want it to be. But…"

"I understand," Albus said. "I realise why you will never forgive me. And I… I wouldn't forgive myself either if I were in your position. You were the better fit for this. For the role. And I know just how much you wanted to be. But you understood the prophecy better than even I could have. You understood what it would mean. I just wish I had too. Maybe, if I had, things would be different."

"Or maybe someone else would have fit the prophecy - someone without the knowledge or strength to take on Gellert," Aberforth said. "We can't change what we did, Albus. We can only change what we do from now on."

Albus nodded slightly, finishing his glass before allowing the silence to fully settle between them. Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the day.

892 North Road

April 17th, 1996

4:50 p.m.

Corban's stomach growled for what felt like the fifth time in the past hour, but even as sweat continued to gather on his forehead and he could feel his magic draining he continued powering the ritual. It had only been four days since the meeting, and he technically still had a week before Bedivere expected the locations of the Horcruxes, but Corban still wanted to finish with this assignment as quickly as he could humanly manage.

He was more than familiar with Dark Magic. He'd studied it all his life, practised it and seen first-hand the effect it could have on a person's mind, magic, and body. But nothing he'd ever seen, not even the Unforgivable Curses or the dozen or so items the Dark Lord himself cursed could compare to the foulness that emanated from the Horcruxes. Just by being in the same room as the damned locket, he felt its magic seeping into his body. Tingling across his skin before plunging in and meddling with his own magic. And it only got worse whenever he had to access the Horcrux and use its connection to the others to find them.

He'd been getting closer and closer by the day, reducing the approximate range of its location vastly. But there was something wrong, even as he'd spent the past four days working on it non-stop. The locations of the Horcruxes would move. At first, the movements were so little he didn't notice them. But as he began to close in on their locations and actually pinpoint them precisely, he began seeing it. Either someone was grabbing the Horcruxes and moving them around the same area, or they were somehow partly immune to the ritual and finding a way to evade being precisely located.

After three hours of sleep, he had woken up early this morning and immediately began his work on finding whatever was wrong with the ritual. And he immediately felt the impact. The Horcruxes had a psychological effect that was similar to that of a dementor, only instead of taking away his happy memories, it brought out his negative emotions. But that was only a minor struggle compared to the feeling of his own blood becoming tainted by the cursed object. His magic ached just from its presence. It was in the beginning stages of attempting to possess him, Corban realised as he continued pushing through. The Horcrux preparing the body for the piece of the Dark Lord's soul to inhabit it.

It had been his shorter and more spaced-out sessions that had stopped it from making any real progress. But after being quite connected to it for days on end now, he could feel how it was changing him. Even wondered what effect the diary must have had on Potter, and if whatever it was was permanent. But he was too fixated on nailing down the locations on the map in front of him to care about that for long.

He stayed that way for the entire morning and a good part of the afternoon, watching the large circles that once had covered the whole country shrink until they were reduced to barely noticeable dots on the map. He wasn't worried, Bedivere had told him he knew of a spell that would allow him to expand on the map to any extent he wished for. So he kept going. Continued pushing his magic into the Horcrux's, retracing his wand movements and repetitively chanting an incantation.

And then, suddenly, the map began levitating. It wasn't by much, only slightly hovering above the table before there was a blast of purple light that lit up the room and set the map down. Corban immediately let go of the spell, rushing across the room and snatching the piece of parchment from the table. And there they were. All six shining, orange dots on the map had been permanently linked with each of the Horcruxes. Most of them were where he had told Bedivere - the two at Hogwarts, one in the heart of London, and the other one in Azkaban. There was the dot that signalled the locket right where he should be on this map, and the final dot was visible somewhere in the Hangleton area.

Corban smiled. After months of struggling, they finally had the locations. They were one step closer to killing the Dark Lord.

He quickly grabbed the locket from the table and pocketed it before he turned around, rushing towards the floo before the door to the flat suddenly blew up, taking most of the wall with it. Corban's eyes snapped to the large hole, his heart stopping as a group of ten men sprinted inside and began launching curses at him. He turned on the spot, apparating away from the danger only for him to feel as his entire body twisted and turned into itself. He landed back at the same place he was standing, one of his arms broken and his ribs feeling like they had been trampled by a stampede of elephants.

Some of the men laughed, and the others immediately went to apprehend him. That's when he noticed one of them.

"Bradford? What the hell are-"

The large crook struck him, the single blow sending him to his knees once again. And just as he tried to stand up again, Bradford hit him one more time for good measure.

"How dare you," Corban snarled but didn't dare try to get back up again. "You work for me!"

"He works for the Knights," Elijah Montague said, his voice deadly serious. "And you… you betrayed us, brother. Did you really think we wouldn't find you?"

"Montague," Corban smiled, feeling the blood on his teeth. "Let me guess. You couldn't handle the fifteen-year-old and decided to switch to little old me?"

"Potter will get his," Elijah said, unbothered. "In due time. Meanwhile, he's irrelevant. But you… aren't. Not to Mister Snyde." Corban's neck snapped to look up at Elijah so hard, he almost heard it crack. "What? No more jokes?"

Elijah patted Corban's face mockingly before he started moving around the room. He peeked at all the parchments he had left everywhere, skimming them with vague interest as he continued talking. "Using Potter to take down my allies… must have been hilarious, at the time, I'm sure. And perhaps, if you hadn't had him target those who were also useful to the rest of the Knights, they would not have interfered. But that was always your problem, wasn't it, Yaxley? All ambition and no… restraint." Elijah turned towards his men. "Did he have anything on him?"

"He had this in his hands," one of them said, hanging Elijah the map.

"Very well, I'll give it to Mister Snyde, thank you. He's been rather impatient, you know? Mister Snyde. He's been wanting your head for a while now. He wanted us to bring you back dead. No fuss. No risk. But after seeing all this… I'm quite sure he'll want to interrogate you personally. Who knows," Elijah gave him a cocky smile. "He might even let me watch."

Mustering all his strength, Corban forced himself up with one knee, managing to strike Elijah in the face before spotting the shadow right behind him. He closed his eyes and focused, feeling his body beginning to lose its shape before he heard a blood-curdling growl.

"NO!"

Corban opened his eyes only to be blinded by the light that had filled every inch of the room. He fell to the ground, forced back to his corporeal form before three men suddenly rushed him and forcefully restrained him.

"Potter already got away from me once," Elijah said in a cold whisper. "You won't be so lucky." He walked a few steps before looking down to the ground and spotting the green and silver locket that had just fallen from his pocket. He picked it up, his hand tracing the S carefully. "Interesting…" He pocketed it before nodding to his men who immediately picked him up and forced him on his feet.

"You tried to burn me. To burn my family. So when Mister Snyde is done with you, I'll be the one to kill you. And know, that after your death, I'll be the one to take all the Yaxley fortune, all your properties and assets, and use them to build my family back up. And your name… it will die and be forgotten just like you."

Parkinson Palace

April 20th, 1996

7:05 p.m.

Bedivere settled inside the empty manor after returning from Azkaban prison. He could still feel the passive effect from the dementors tingling in his skin. It often took a few hours for it to fully go away, but Bedivere could tell it was worsening with time. Perhaps it was the toll the Threads of Fate had taken on his body during his time jump, but Corban hadn't been wrong during their meeting the previous week when he noted he was getting more feeble by the day.

He was old. If he counted the years he had lived in his previous timeline, he had surpassed a century and a half. That on its own was enough to make him useless in a duel or anything that required even the slightest amount of exertion. If it wasn't for the Threads quite literally holding his body together, Bedivere was sure he wouldn't be able to breathe properly. Still, he was beginning to consider reducing his visits to Azkaban. The Dark Lord would be displeased by the news, but he would understand.

The treatment for the inmates was working wonders on their bodies and their connections. They were finally able to walk around their cells and actually speak. Perhaps, in a few weeks, they would even be able to wield their own wands. However, the treatment was taking longer in dealing with the psychological damage the dementors had done to them. There was progress, if only a little, but it was steady. And the best example of that was their very own Augustus Rookwood, who was still locked up inside the Parkinson dungeon.

Given how Corban had been ignoring his calls for the past three days or so, Bedivere had been forced to administer the treatments himself. And though the man hated him due to whatever it was that the true Bedivere of this timeline did to him, he didn't resist the treatment. They didn't speak, but at least the man wasn't cursing his name to the walls anymore. Still, a part of Bedivere couldn't help but understand Augustus' plight. If someone had betrayed him in such a way, he would be just as opposed to working with him as Augustus was to even looking at him.

With Potter and Kieran still out there searching through towns for one of the Horcruxes and Augustus in need of another dose of his treatment, Bedivere once more tried to call Corban. He used his tattoo and even the seven floos Corban had given him for all of his safehouses, but none of them worked. And even though he would rather avoid it, Corban had been off the grid for too long already. More than that, he had the only Horcrux they had with him. Bedivere couldn't risk losing it.

So he visited every one of Corban's safe houses. Every place he reached seemed cleaner than the last one, but beyond the immaculate appearance of each flat, Bedivere didn't see anything that suggested Corban had been there recently. None of the safehouses contained parchments related to the search for the Horcruxes, and even worse, Corban and the locket were nowhere in sight.

"You seem rattled, Parkinson," Augustus commented later in the evening when Bedivere handed him the potion through the bars of the cell. "I didn't think that was possible."

Bedivere ignored him, cleaning his hands at the workstation right beside the cell. Kieran and Potter had stayed out longer than he'd anticipated, and even though the loss of the Horcrux had left his heart pounding against the Threads as he itched for a way to recover it, Bedivere allowed himself to fully calm down before he made any decision. Either Corban was on the run from the Knights, or they had found him. Either way, there were reconnaissance missions that were required before he could actually make a move on the locket. Unfortunately, that didn't change the ticking clock that had just been started.

With Carrow dead, his granddaughter and the Nott boy locked up at Hogwarts and now Corban missing in action, Bedivere could no longer afford to let Augustus stew. He needed him now, not just his information anymore.

"You seem to have regained control from the animalistic instinct within your mind," Bedivere eventually replied. "Does this mean you are more willing to talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Augustus said darkly.

Bedivere conjured a chair before sitting in front of the cell, finally allowing himself to take a good look at the man in front of him. Broken, filthy… starved of anything warm and happy for the past fifteen or so years. In any other scenario, this would be the perfect subject for him to influence. Unfortunately, he had been one of the main causes behind Augustus' years of torment.

"What do you remember of your time with the Dark Lord?"

Rookwood was suddenly very far away, his eyes glassy and unfocused, he nearly cowered at the sheer mention of the wizard. "Enough."

"Clearly not. If it was, you wouldn't hesitate to help. You wouldn't choose to remain locked up rather than attempt to kill the Dark Lord."

"It's impossible."

"Perhaps," Bedivere said calmly. "But a worse hell awaits us if we allow him victory than anything you could ever imagine. You understand the nature of the Horcruxes. What they do to someone's soul. Someone like that… who has split their soul eight times… every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. There is nothing he wouldn't do to accomplish his goals. No act so heinous as to give him pause. What do you think the Dark Lord will do if he remains unopposed? For how long do you think he'll tolerate our usefulness? Even if stopping him is impossible, the very least we owe is to try."

"You're no better than he is," Augustus snarled, looking like a mad dog bearing his teeth before he took a deep breath and calmed down. "If you were so willing to leave me rotting in Azkaban, what else are you willing to do?"

"Neither of us wants to find out," Bedivere said coldly, and Augustus didn't seem to take the threat lightly. "The Dark Lord has returned. He will continue his reign of terror until all of his Horcruxes are found and destroyed. And now we know where they are. If there was ever a chance for us to take a stand against the Dark Lord, it's now. So, as I see it, you have two options now. You can help us, tell us what you know about the Dark Lord, and help us destroy the Horcruxes. Or I can force you to do so… and then, once you're of no use to me… kill you. I leave it in your hands."

Augustus didn't reply, staring intently at him as if trying to decipher any hidden agenda he may have. It was too early to force a decision, and though he could use the imperius curse to force him to work for him, the one he had on his granddaughter was proving to be more wearing than he'd thought. So he didn't push, instead turning around and leaving the dungeon. Or at least he was about to before Augustus called out to him.

"The Horcruxes aren't the only thing you should be scared of."

"What do you mean?" Bedivere asked carefully, making his way back inside the room.

"The Dark Lord," the words somehow made him paler. "He's looking for something. Something he found when he was tearing through my mind."

"The Deathly Hallows," Bedivere said carefully. "It is of no importance. All three have been lost over the course of history. It would take years for the Dark Lord to find them all."

"He doesn't need them all… not yet. His Horcruxes are enough for him to beat Death. Death is no longer his concern. The Longbottom boy is… as is the connection between their wands."

"He's trying to find the Elder Wand."

"He isn't trying," Augustus said morosely. "He's already found it. I… I found the missing link. Late in the war, when the Dark Lord sent us to Romania, I found it. Ivantie Donceanu, a sixteen-century wizard. He's the one who murdered Tederich Frei and stole the Elder Wand from him. Once I found him, I tracked the wand all the way up to the nineteenth century before the Dark Lord was vanquished, and I returned home, only to be immediately imprisoned," he finished snidely.

"And the Dark Lord knows this? You let him see this?"

Augustus' eyes snapped up to him, and Bedivere could almost see the flame behind them. "You have no idea what it's like. For your mind to be torn and twisted over and over and over again for fifteen eternities before a full minute passes. The only reason I'm not dead like the rest is because I managed to escape before he was done with me. There is no resisting it. No stopping him. Not even the memory locks were enough to stop him. I could barely keep him off my memories inside the Department of Mysteries, and that was because he was more focused on finding out my allegiances."

"He's still abroad, so I doubt he's found it yet-"

"Then it's only a matter of time. It's been months that he's known about the Elder Wand… if he doesn't have it yet. Then he's about to."

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

Next chapter will be the finale of the Checkmate arc. Be excited!

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