Discovery

The centaurs don't go near the breach between the forests. The magic warned them away. It is the lair of a monster. They shouldn't intrude. The monster wouldn't like it.

Dumbledore ignored all the warnings that came his way. He could feel how strongly the magic of the forest was pushing him away. His magic responded to the warnings fiercely and he carried forward unimpeded.

There was a thickness in magic now. It felt thick, impenetrable. Harsh. More importantly it was familiar.

This was Harry's lair. The boy from the prophecy was the monster the centaurs feared. The tiny ray of hope he had for Harry diminished. He could no longer deny the truth that had been clear to him from the day he met Harry in Janus. He could no longer be blinded by the prophecy. The light had gone and he saw the truth.

If Harry had to be locked up he needed proof. Proof that Harry killed Tonks. Even after Harry had killed Remus he had held onto hope. Harry was attacked by a werewolf and not Remus. He knew that. Harry was only defending himself. And killing his relatives had only been a reaction to the extremes of abuse he had endured in that hell. Harry was a victim. He was a hero. He was the boy from the prophecy. He was the one who was going to defeat the Dark Lord for good.

But now. His hope hung on a thread that would either snap or remain depending on what he found when he reached the origin of the harsh magic.

He moved through the forest silently. He took sure and measured steps, always watching for signs. The magic felt like a strong wind now. It was always against him and his magic cut through it with the strength of a mountain.

Suddenly he saw it. A clearing a few meters to his left. He could see the moonlight shining through.

It took him a moment to understand what he had just walked into.

It was a divide between two forests made of sand. Sand that couldn't possibly exist in the Forbidden Forest.

"Stop," Dumbledore said out loud. His mind was leaping to conclusions. He had to think. He had to connect the dots. Moments in time stretching back to the day Harry murdered his relatives.

He tried to see the pattern. The shape Harry's life had taken. The day he heard the prophecy. The day he met Harry. The day he saw the remains of the troll. Trelawney's second prophecy. The night he saw Harry rip out the heart of a werewolf. The picture of Harry in the middle of the desert. The picture Snape saw in Harry's mind. And now a desert in the breach between forests.

Was it all part of the prophecies? What was going to happen? What did all of this mean? What did desert's have to do with this?

"So many things are happening," Dumbledore whispered. Muggleborns were rebelling. A pureblood bigot was Minister. The Dark Lord was returning. Unrest was rising in the Goblin nation. The centaurs were predicting a coming danger. Trelawney's prophecy predicted devastation and Harry Potter was walking down a dark path.

Magical Britain was stressed to its limits. Dumbledore knew the flashpoint was close. He had no idea what was going to happen when their world reached that point. The future was blotted with dark clouds.

He sighed and held his wand to his temple. Dumbledore closed his eyes and pulled his wand away. A thick string of silver mist came along with the wand and he directed it into a vial he had in his cloak. He was going to go deeper into the thoughts and memories later. First, he had to examine the magic here. Harry's magic. And also to find any evidence that Harry was the one who had killed Tonks.

Dumbledore knelt on the sand and placed both his hands on the surface and concentrated. He let his magic flow and connected with the nature of magic in the sand. Seconds passed by and then Dumbledore withdrew his hands. There was a frown on his face. The sand was not natural. The magic felt like transfiguration beyond anything he had ever seen. He wasn't able to understand it. It felt real. Permanent. There was no dispelling the magic and reverting it to its original state. What kind of magic was this?

Dumbledore stood and looked around. There had to be more to learn from here. The mystery of Harry's magic was getting stranger. Was the sand always here, between the forests, or was this a result of Harry? What was Harry doing here? Why did they consider him a monster? Did Harry kill the centaurs and if so, where were the bodies?

Dumbledore spent the night in Harry's desert. Searching. Analysing. Trying to understand the mystery that was Harry.

Twentieth July Nineteen Ninety-Four – Ministry of Magic: Minster of Magic's office.

There was a knock on the door and without waiting for a response it was opened.

A balding redhead man walked in with barely controlled rage.

"My department is to be dissolved?!"

"Ah Arthur. Please have a seat," Lucius said politely.

Arthur gripped the top of the chair and dug his nails into the wood. "You can't do this Lucius."

"I am the Minister for Magic. I think you'll find I can."

"The Wizenga-"

"The Wizengamot has been assimilated into the ministry. They are no longer a law making body. I thought you knew that," Lucius interrupted. "Now. If you'd take a seat and have a cup of tea, you'd be able to learn about the new department I want you to head."

Arthur went blank. "What?"

"Just sit Weasley," Lucius growled, his patient and polite mask slipping.

Arthur glared loathingly at Lucius and took a seat anyway. It was the first time he had come into the office and as Lucius sent a memo to his assistant for tea, Arthur couldn't help but be impressed.

The room was cleverly decorated with green and silver, not took much that one would immediately think Slytherin, and not too less that one would think him cheap. There were little tables and shelfs all around, decorated with books and trophies. The walls were high and bare, painting a soft white that seemed to glow enough to light the office of the minister. His table itself was seven feet wide and four feet long, made of oak and polished to a gleam and was placed just behind centre of the room.

The door opened quietly and a terribly ugly woman walked in. Arthur startled. She looked like a toad. This was Dolores Umbridge. She was reduced to the position of assistant?

Dolores walked in with her chin up and eyes resentful. She placed a cup before the minister and Arthur before sneering at Arthur leaving just as fast as she came in.

Lucius took a sip and sighed. "I want you to head the Department of Extraction and Protection. Or Deep, as some have taken to call it."

"What is its function?" Arthur asked slowly. All this was sounding very suspicious. Something was going on.

"To take muggleborn children from their homes and bring them to the ministry to be fostered."

Arthur's nostrils flared at the implications.

"Fostered into what exactly?" he asked coldly.

"Into the future of this world," Lucius replied coolly. "This world is facing a crisis unlike anything ever before. Muggle influence has corrupted our values and reduced our society into bickering fools. This has to stop. And for it to stop, the poison must be cut off from the source.

"Now. Arthur. You can either agree to take over this role and become its champion. Or you can join Diggory's department. I hear he is need of a regulator for dragon dung control."

Arthur felt his mouth sour. This was Lucius Malfoy. The real man behind the mask of so called values. Blackmailer and manipulator. It was why he hated the man so deeply.

"I need an answer today Arthur," Lucius prompted.

Arthur's ears were red. His eyes were twitching with anger but he forced a smile on his face which came out as a grimace.

"I'll do it," he choked out.

"Do what?"

"Head the D.E.P," he said stiffly. He couldn't say no. He needed to be at the ministry if he wanted to make a difference. He would never stop fighting this tyranny and he believed in doing it from within.

Lucius smiled knowingly. "I was wrong about you," he said. "You're much smarter than I gave you credit for."

He then took his quill and wrote out a memo. "Take this to Dolores. She will take you to your new office. I trust you will like it."

Arthur snatched it out of his extended hand and stormed out, slamming the door as he left.

Lucius chuckled. That had been intimately satisfying to do.

He looked down at the paper he was reading before Arthur barged in and his amusement was lost. Rita Skeeter had published her chaos inducing article and this time the fire was burning his way. He was furious.

Auror Tonks, one of Dumbledore's people's, death had been reported as a conspiracy in the Slytherin house orchestrated by Draco: his son.

Lucius was beyond furious.

"Tonks was a muggle lover. She got what she deserved." Draco was quoted saying this in an argument with Daphne Greengrass that was now revealed by Skeeter who had witnessed it all.

The latest by Skeeter had caused more employees to resign and the mudblood resistance had only grown stronger and they had annexed another magical village.

Lucius's complications grew worse. The worst was he couldn't do a thing to her. If she so much as sensed danger, he knew she was capable of destroying his world. No. Rita could not be touched for now.

The rebellion had now made their own government and had announced they were going to meet the muggle prime minister and inform him of the news.

The Dark Lord was going to lose patience once he heard that and order them to attack Godric's Village. He wanted the territory back in their control.

He remembered another thing and wrote out a memo which was flew to the Auror department. He had to know if Bellatrix and the others had reached Saint Mungo's. He hadn't met them yet. They were due to be transported in secret to his Manor.

Lucius was understandably anxious about that. Most of them were insane murderers, his sister in law included. The Dark Lord was cementing his return to power. Every day, he got stronger and the ingredients for the ritual were almost all there. He had lost but he was glad he was alive. He knew the dark lord had become aware of his actions and had chosen to remain silent about it.

There was a knock on the door.

"It's Ludo Bagman," came Dolores's voice.

"Send him in," Lucius replied.

A rotund man wearing bright yellow robes walked with a bright smile on his face that looked like it had seen better days.

"Lucius!" Ludo exclaimed. "I've got great news! Bulgaria has agreed to come for the Quidditch world cup in spite of all the new laws and regulations."

"Congratulations," Lucius said. "So only Greece has refused to come to Britain."

"Sadly," Bagman said. "They have a great beater squad."

Despite the political upheaval and unrest in England. The Quidditch world cup remained on track. Muggleborns were barred from it. Even the England squad had no muggleborns.

Voldemort had instructed them to remain quiet on the presence of creatures and muggleborns from other countries. The dark lord was patient. Sooner or later, the magical world would fall under his command. England was already his. His defeat at Godric Hollow seemed like it was necessary for him to disappear. He could now see his path to complete dominance.

Back in Malfoy Manor Voldemort took possession of a new host. One who had volunteered for the position and was a strong wizard as well.

Barty Crouch Junior would die for his Lord and Master.

Thirty First July Nineteen Ninety-Four – Sirius's Cottage

"Happy birthday Harry," Sirius said and handed Harry a small package.

James had been shifted to a muggle institution after much persuasion by Dumbledore. Dumbledore was insistent on a close eye being kept on Harry and he was urging Sirius to try and bond with Harry.

Sirius's resistance eventually crumbled. He had hated responsibility then and he hated it now. He supposed there was a time he could have loved Harry and want to take care of him but his soul was gone. He was empty inside.

Harry took the package wrapped in newspaper without question. He didn't understand the point of this.

"Open it."

They were in the living room. The curtains were open and the fire was put out. Fresh yellow light from the rising sun was streaming in, showing a trail of dust floating in the room.

Harry carefully opened the package and a red cloak fell out. He gasped as he felt the material and saw its colours. The cloak had an aura of purple intermingled with strands of white. It felt like running water in his hands and his eyes widened when his arm disappeared from sight when he picked it up.

"It was your father's," Sirius said softly. He lowered himself into the couch and sighed. "Dumbledore had it and I felt it was high time it was passed on to you."

Harry remained silent. His eyes were silent as they bored into his. He blinked and then sat in the couch opposite.

The air was warming up as the sun rose higher. Harry felt the heat pleasantly wash against his face and he smiled. It almost felt like a desert sun rise without the endless open space.

"I'm sorry about what you had to go through with the Dursley's," Sirius suddenly said. "I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I truly wish I had taken you in after what happened to your parents." His eyes grew haunted. "Unfortunately I couldn't.

"I want you to know that what the Dursley's did to you was barbaric," Sirius finished earnestly.

"You sound like Psychiatrist Beverly," Harry said strangely. She kept saying it was wrong too. Harry didn't see what was wrong. He had been weaker than them at first and then he became stronger and survived. It was that simple.

"A what?"

"She was trying to understand the void."

Sirius didn't understand at all. "Er, did she?" But Harry was talking. That was progress sort of in the direction Dumbledore wanted.

Harry's eyes shifted towards the fireplace as he thought about the question. "No," he answered finally. "She talked a lot. Our last session she wanted me to understand emotions. That was when the Headmaster took me to Hogwarts."

So Harry was getting some kind of treatment at the juvenile home and then Albus came and brought him to Hogwarts, Sirius figured.

He felt like slapping his palm against his forehead repeatedly. How had he not seen the need before? How had Dumbledore missed it? Had he been so blinded by the prophecy? If Harry had been left alone there was a chance the muggles could have conditioned him enough to live among people without becoming a monster.

"Do you understand emotions Harry?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Of course."

"Do you feel them?" Sirius pressed.

Here Harry frowned. He understood on a level that he didn't understand all the emotions that came with being human. He did understand a few though. Rage was his favourite. "Yes," he replied stiffly after a few seconds.

Sirius looked at him disbelievingly and wanted to pursue the matter, feeling like he was making some sort of breakthrough but Harry's face had gone sour. He was staring out the window and Sirius had been around Harry enough to know what there was no talking with him now. Harry was very good at ignoring the world around him.

Sirius stood up. "Well. Happy birthday," he said and left the room. He had to take Harry to Diagon Alley the next day for school supplies. Dumbledore was organising a guard in case Voldemort tried something.

Harry heard Sirius's footsteps disappear into the floor above and felt more at ease. He understood birthdays were held to celebrate birth. He just didn't get why.

The cloak was incredible. It felt like he was almost touching the source. It was clear this cloak of invisibility was created with runic magic accessing the source. The magic was perfectly stable and in harmony with the requirement that was to make the wearer invisible.

The magic of the cloak was what he was trying to achieve for his dream.

He had managed to successfully integrate the labyrinth runes with the deserts after careful examination of the wards around the cottage. What he was still lacking was power and with the amount of scrutiny on him, place to practice as well. He had only perfected the rune in his journal. He was excited about it. He wanted to test it but there were too many eyes on him. Dumbledore made surprise visits and Sirius subtly kept watching him.

It irked Harry but he was getting very good at the concept of patience. He kept silent. Kept writing in his journal and kept waiting. The time would come. He just had to wait for it. Harry opened his diary and began to continue his analysis of Arithmancy.

Arithmancy was the mathematics behind calculating and determining what kind of wand and wrist movements were necessary to create a spell. It was a science that considered magic as numbers and was built upon that principle.

Harry was attempting to apply the same principle to the source before he realised it was not possible. The source was infinite. That fact made him approach the problem from a different angle. If the source was considered infinite. Then how much magic was needed to power say a square metre of land into sand. What was the Arithmancy behind it? Where there any runes required to do it?

Harry ran his fingers over the cloak as he sank into his thoughts. He needed more information about Arithmancy. The notes he had were not enough. It was never enough.

He resolved to visit the book store when he went to Diagon Alley and absently continued running his fingers through the cloak. It felt marvelous. He felt like he was touching magic at its source.

The green pulsed faintly. The fact that it had been owned by his father made it feel slightly more special.