Chapter 22. The Vanished Objects
It happened just as Harry and Teddy descended into the hall of Azkaban's citadel and were about to venture out onto the stormy, dark island. There was a vibration in Harry's robes; Faraday's name appeared on the screen when he pulled out his phone.
"Wow, does that work here? In Azkaban?" exclaimed Teddy. Harry silenced his godson and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Faraday. What's up?"
"Sorry I'm late," the smartphone echoed Faraday's voice. Despite some dropouts and noise, the sound was fine. "Remember I've been rummaging through Nicolas Flamel's study for weeks? Inhaling dust and mold, that is."
"Of course. Did you find anything useful?" asked Harry hopefully.
"At least I found out what the intruders took. However, my limited understanding of the Wizarding world leaves me uncertain as to what exactly that means."
"Don't worry, Faraday. I'll take Hermione and Ron there tomorrow," said Harry. "Thankfully, my urgent work is over, so I can make some time."
"Very well. I'll tell you more then."
Harry hung up the phone and summoned his Patronus with a wave of his wand. In one bound, the silver stag crossed the hall, walked through the castle gates, and plunged into the rough sea.
"Teddy, I'm leaving for France tomorrow," said Harry. "I've just sent Hermione a message via Patronus, and you should visit Ron at St. Mungo's Hospital. Tell him to come to Nicolas Flamel's house if he feels well."
"Right, Harry. St. Mungo's sounds homey to me now that I've been here a while."
Harry found the weather in France brighter and warmer the next day than on his last visit, probably due to Harry's experience in Azkaban. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked down the mostly deserted street. Occasionally glancing at the map on his smartphone, Harry pointed his friends in the right direction.
"Harry, I understand why you're trying to get the Deathly Hallows back," said Hermione seriously. There was a dark look on her face, as if she still hadn't recovered from the news that Harry had lost the Elder Wand. "But how exactly are you going to do that? Besides knowing all kinds of Dark Arts, Eisenbein now has the most powerful wand in the world . . ."
"You-Know-Who already took that wand from us once, didn't he?" said Ron in an almost cheerful voice. There was still a slight limp in his step, and his cheeks and forehead were swollen. "Harry can always cast the Disarming Spell while Eisenbein is unaware. Harry will win back the Elder Wand again . . ."
"Oh, so there was such an easy way. Was I the only one who did not realize it?" said Hermione coldly. "I thought you two were the ones who were taken by surprise in the Chamber of Secrets back then."
"Exactly, Hermione," said Harry quietly. "As always, you were right this time. After such a long period of peace, I became complacent and fell into Eisenbein's trap, losing two Hallows in the process." Harry's frank admission softened Hermione's grave expression a little. "Now I'm more careful than ever. That's why we arrived some distance from Flamel's house today, instead of Apparating straight there. I was looking for a tail, you know."
"Harry, I just . . ." Hermione swallowed and sighed. "I'm sorry for blaming you, I feel like I'm not myself these days. It's like I've been having an endless nightmare ever since the goblins told me that the Ministry vault was empty."
"It's the same for me, dear," said Ron warmly. "As hard as things are, this too shall pass. We can win this again if we are together."
Hermione looked at Ron, impressed, and hurried off. On the other side of the street appeared a dilapidated masonry building, seemingly from another era. Harry looked around to make sure no one was following them before he and Ron entered the ancient house. As before, the interior smelled of musty mold and was surrounded by dull gray stone walls. Faraday sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring at his mobile phone. Noticing their arrival, he turned and smiled at them.
"Welcome, my friends. I've been waiting for you." Faraday shook hands with each of them in turn. "Is all well at the Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes, so far," said Hermione curtly. "At least we're steadily increasing our budget, thanks to your Department of Treasury. I sincerely hope that the Quidditch World Cup is going to be held in this country."
"You would never have to worry about money if you could make the Sorcerer's Stone. Once that happens, you will no longer have to search for buried gold in graves," Faraday said as they followed him into the laboratory. He pushed and pulled a flask and a glass tube out of the corner and the bookcase next to it opened, revealing a staircase hidden behind it.
After descending the narrow and steep staircase, a large library filled with books collected by Nicolas Flamel over the centuries became visible. Although Hermione had been there before, she sighed again in amazement. Harry paused and looked around at the area lit by blue torches. Only one thing had changed since his last visit: A long desk stood next to a row of bookshelves, above which sat a humming computer, a monitor and a printer. A sheet of paper emerged from the printer as Faraday tapped the keyboard and manipulated his computer. With the printed paper in his hand, he returned to them.
"Take a look — this is the result of several weeks of my hard and tedious work."
Hermione and Ron stood on either side of Harry as he unfolded the document, which read:
THE VANISHED OBJECTS
The following is a list of items believed to have been lost or stolen, based on a comparison with the inventory of Nicolas Flamel's legacy as held by the French Ministry of Magic.
MISSING INGREDIENTS
(Estimated) Four bottles of Elixir of Life
MISSING BOOKS
The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood by Albus Dumbledore
The Toadstool Tales by Beatrix Bloxam
A Report on the Historical Truth Behind Folktales by Nicolas Flamel
MISSING MAGICAL INSTRUMENTS
A Deluminator (for unknown purpose)
"It's obvious why they stole the Elixir of Life, but I'm not sure why they took the rest. Could the missing books contain tips on how to make the Sorcerer's Stone?" Faraday said when they finished reading the list. "Also, my search here did not turn up anything called a Deluminator, which is on the heritage list. Does anyone know where it is used?"
"I do," said Ron excitedly. "There's one in my house. I inherited it from Dumbledore, and it can absorb and extinguish nearby lights."
"Ah, I'd like to have one of those things. . . . It would save me getting out of bed to turn off the light," Faraday said with a grin. "Still, I don't think anyone stole it to use it like that . . ."
"I agree," said Ron. "But I've always thought my Deluminator was unique. Where could Flamel have gotten the same thing?"
"Ron, don't you remember? Mr. Flamel and Dumbledore once studied alchemy together. Perhaps the Deluminator was something they created together at that time. It makes sense why Mr. Flamel has the same one," said Hermione. "And as for these books — they seem like the ones I've read. . . . Wait a minute."
Waiting for Hermione's answer, Harry and Ron exchanged expectant glances. They knew of no one who could surpass her when it came to knowledge of books.
"There shouldn't be anything particularly new in Professor Dumbledore's book on dragon blood — why did they take it?" said Hermione curiously. "The second book is a children's story. . . . In addition, Mr. Flamel's writing describes how historical events have given rise to fairy tales. Since he lived so long, he must have been interested in this subject, for his life itself was history. But I don't understand how three of them relate to the Sorcerer's Stone . . ."
"So all my efforts were in vain?" sighed Faraday, sinking into a nearby chair. "It's hard to imagine that a children's tale would explicitly explain how to make a Sorcerer's Stone. . . ."
"Fairy tales are not to be disregarded," snapped Hermione. "It was from a children's book that we first learned of the Deathly Hallows. I need to get the three books listed here so I can examine them more closely."
"That won't be necessary," said Faraday. He strolled over to a bookshelf, took out three books and returned. "You can try these books, I've already purchased them. . . . I have nothing more to do here, so I'll pack up and leave."
Ron and Harry helped Faraday move the computer and other electronics upstairs, while Hermione eagerly read the books. The four of them gathered in the dusty living room after Hermione reluctantly put the books into her small beaded bag.
"But Faraday, how are we going to transport these?" Ron pointed at the monitors and the computer, which looked quite heavy. "It could be dangerous to carry something like that while Apparating."
"No problem, Gabrielle said she would send owls to carry my luggage. They will arrive soon."
They wrapped the digital devices in thick cloth and paper boxes for shipment. Not long after, four owls landed in front of a curtained window and pecked at the glass. When Harry opened the door, two large brown barn owls and two beautiful eagle owls flew in and landed on the armrests of the sofa. At first, the owls sat upright and dignified, as if wanting to set a good example for foreign wizards, but when Faraday groaned and brought in his heavy equipment, they began to stir. Squealing to each other, the owls widened their yellow eyes and flapped their wings anxiously.
"Not to worry, birdies! You can expect a generous price, tips included."
A cloth with a monitor was tied to the tawny owl's hesitantly outstretched leg. Even though Faraday dropped a shiny gold coin into its sack, the owl didn't seem to care. Carrying a monitor on its paw, the owl flew unsteadily through the open door. As the rest of the owls clicked their beaks together, Hermione looked on with pity for the birds that had to carry heavy weights all the way to England.
"Harry, do you think she's going to start an owl protection society?" Ron whispered, pointing at Hermione. Harry could barely hold back a laugh, but Ron looked serious. "I'm really worried, mate. . . . She's the Minister now, and her influence is very different from when we were at Hogwarts."
Faraday ordered the other two owls to begin their precarious flight, holding onto a monitor and a printer respectively. Only one barn owl remained, and it helped Faraday tie the computer to its leg with a resigned look.
"Since it's the heaviest, I'll give you a special tip."
As Faraday placed the two Galleons in its sack, the owl flapped its wings with determination. But despite the owl's desperate attempts to rise, the computer, which was larger than the owl itself, barely moved.
"There's too much weight on him, Faraday!" Heremione finally intervened.
"Exactly, that's what I think." Faraday rummaged through his pockets and pulled out five more silver coins and another gold coin. "He deserves more money." The barely afloat owl screeched desperately as its employer added more coins to the sack hanging from its left leg. "Still not enough?" As Faraday added a few more Sickles to the sack, the owl sank even deeper.
"Stop it!" shouted Hermione sharply. "You're making it harder for him!"
"Because I paid him more?" Faraday glanced between Hermione and the owl, blinking. "What kind of service gets worse because it costs more? I really don't understand how your world works . . ." He pulled a handful of coins out of the owl's sack and freed the poor bird from his computer, which had been lying stubbornly on the floor. "Shoo! You're fired!"
The barn owl screeched angrily and flew away after flapping its wings and slapping Faraday several times in the face.
"I'll have to do it our way, then. . . . Wait a minute."
He brushed the feathers off his face and began manipulating his smartphone. It took them about ten minutes to see what Faraday was talking about: A small plane with propellers on either side arrived at the front door.
"I know what that is!" exclaimed Ron. "Isn't it called an elicopter?"
"Helicopter, Ron," Harry corrected him, remembering something similar he had seen on television as a child. "But it can't possibly be a helicopter. It's too small."
"It's a drone," Faraday said as he took his computer and strapped it securely to the bottom of the drone. He then pressed something on his smartphone, and the drone easily lifted the computer and flew off into the distance, unlike owls. "Many services these days allow their users to place orders online and have their shipment delivered to their desired location with just the click of a button."
"It won't be long before something like that makes its way into our world, and the owls will be out of a job," said Ron darkly. It was probably his economic difficulties, caused by the popularity of Muggle electronics, that made him feel sorry for the owls.
"Ron, don't worry. I'll help them keep their jobs," Hermione said, turning to Faraday. "So what should we do next?"
"You seem to specialize in researching magic, so I'm going to delegate the task of making the Sorcerer's Stone to you. . . . I hope you find these books helpful," said Faraday. "I will return to England to work for the Treasury for the time being. While it would be best to create a Sorcerer's Stone and make gold coins indefinitely, I'll have to find other means. In the short term, my goal is to obtain foreign loans to stimulate the economy. . . ."
"Then I will try to recruit new Aurors for the Ministry," said Harry. "The number of Eisenbein's followers continues to grow, so reinforcements are needed."
"Exactly, you and your Aurors should attend to urgent matters. Like they say, it's all about the economy. The troublemakers would find it much harder to act if we had the gold back in our hands and the economy ran smoothly," said Faraday cheerfully. "First, I'm thinking of using the remaining gold to build a Quidditch World Cup stadium to create jobs and stimulate the economy, sort of like a New Deal for the Wizarding world... Of course, to save money, the site would have to be the same one that hosted the last World Cup — the owner of the campground there has offered to lower the rent for us."
The next few weeks were the most peaceful Harry had experienced in a long time. The trees outside the office window grew thick with leaves, filling up like green cotton candy with the approaching summer. Kingsley kept his promise and returned the four Aurors to their Headquarters — Berrycloth, Proudfoot, Savage and Williamson — who had served as prison guards in Azkaban. However, this was not enough to meet the demand for manpower. For this reason, Harry spent his spare time reading Auror applications from Hogwarts seventh years who were about to take their N.E.W.T.s. The competition was higher this time, as the minimum requirements for each candidate had been relaxed considerably.
"What matters is loyalty, I always say. It's not about grades," Teddy said this every time he stopped by Harry's office. In a way, Harry agreed with his godson, considering what had prompted them to recruit new Aurors in the first place. Though Eisenbein and the Dawn Breakers remained silent, Harry wasn't sure if that was a good sign. Maybe they were in trouble because they couldn't find the Resurrection Stone. As soon as Harry had recruited the Aurors again, he was ready to confront the Dawn Breakers in earnest . . . Harry still didn't know much about the Fourth Curse, but he did know this: As long as Eisenbein lacked the Cloak of Invisibility, he would be less than a ghost. So it was logical to come up with a strategy that took that into account.
Summer had just begun and Harry was planning a strategy to capture Eisenbein and get his Cloak back when Teddy burst through the door without knocking, his face flushed.
"What's the matter? You don't have any Slytherin colleagues left to criticize, that's for sure," Harry said, raising his head.
"That's not why I came." Teddy pointed the wand at his sweaty face, and a cool breeze blew through his sandy hair from the tip of the wand. "It's too hot and I can't concentrate on my work. Couldn't you talk to Magical Maintenance about it?"
"Since when have you been working so hard?" snorted Harry, but then his attention was drawn to his own damp robe. He had been so focused on making plans that he hadn't even noticed the hot and humid air around him, but when he did, his body began to feel oppressed by it. "Yes, I have to admit — there's a lot of heat in the air. . . . Could there be a mistake on the part of Magical Maintenance?
"It's been like this all morning, I don't know why. What if I get a fever?"
"All right, all right. . . . I'll go take a look."
To cool himself down, Harry used his wand to blow a cool breeze, just as Teddy had done earlier, and walked out into the corridor. When he got off the lift on the floor where Magical Maintenance was located, he found several employees in navy blue robes walking toward him with a disgruntled look on their faces.
"Good morning, Mr. Cattermole. I was on my way to your department; is everything all right?" said Harry. But Reg Cattermole, who had always been kind and friendly to him because he and his friends had rescued him and his wife in the past, seemed to be in a very bad mood. "It's too hot in our office, so I just came to check . . ."
"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Potter, but that is no longer our concern. As a matter of fact, none of it is ours anymore," Cattermole said, trying hard to hold back a cry. "We stayed here even when the Death Eaters took over the Ministry, enduring the humiliation. Then out of nowhere came that Squib —"
"Hang on, Mr. Cattermole," Harry interrupted. "Have you been fired? By Faraday?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes!" cried Cattermole, his face indignant. "Since the Ministry's got some gold now, and since we've had trouble with his auctions before, we asked the Squib to raise our salaries. Shortly thereafter, we received our termination letter! Apparently, the Treasurer is going to hire more compliant and easy-going employees — well, good luck with that!
The other wizards in navy blue robes fervently agreed with him.
"I see," said Harry, pondering what to do in this unpleasant situation. "Take a few days off and rest at home. I'll talk to the Treasurer about it."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter. As always, you are the only one taking care of us," Cattermole whimpered.
Harry took the lift back and wandered the corridors looking for the Department of Treasury. It was at the end of the hallway, and on the thick iron door, under a plaque with the name of the department, was a sign with a red forbidden sign over a wand. Harry tucked his wand deep into his robes, out of sight, and knocked on the door, which slid aside of its own accord.
"Come in now!" barked Faraday's voice from inside.
The door closed behind Harry as soon as he stepped inside. Taking a moment to examine the unique office, he noticed how different it was from the rest of the Ministry. Like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, which allowed the use of electronic devices, the metal walls were covered in wire mesh to prevent magical powers from entering. The office was also illuminated by electric fluorescent lights instead of candles or magical lighting, making it exceptionally bright. Harry walked past the cubicles where the young workers sat in front of the monitors, typing on keyboards, and over to Faraday's desk.
"Oh Harry, what brought you here?" Faraday said, looking up from the screen. He was dressed like a Muggle office worker, wearing a white shirt and a black jacket that looked wet.
"Hello. Our office was too hot, so I consulted Magical Maintenance, whose staff had all been fired. . . ."
"Yes, that's right. They were fired for good reason," said Faraday indignantly, pointing at his wet clothes. "I refused to give them a raise and look what happened — it rained in my office. All that expensive equipment would have been badly damaged if the Auror you sent hadn't intervened."
He pointed to a seat off to one side, and Savage the Auror nodded at them.
"Yes, I had one of my Aurors stationed here in case of sabotage. . . . Then who controls the weather at the Ministry of Magic now? My Aurors are complaining about the heat in the office —" A sudden realization made Harry stop. Unlike his office or the corridor outside, the atmosphere inside the Department of Treasury was quite cool. "Did you use some kind of magic? The air in here is quite chilled."
"Of course not. If I did, every computer in here would be broken," Faraday chuckled and gestured to a shady corner of the office. An old rusty cage, big enough for one person, lay on the other side, and something black was hovering behind the bars. Realizing what it was, Harry almost screamed in surprise. Grasping the bars with its slimy, scabby hands, a dementor was trapped inside the cage.
"Th-that's —" Harry muttered, unconsciously drawing his wand toward the creature.
"Yes, it's a dementor. I had them bring it here from the Department of Mysteries, where it had been locked up for experiments," said Faraday brightly. "You can't get a more eco-friendly air conditioner than this."
"But what if it gets out —"
"Surely it can't — the cage has been sealed with many protective spells," Faraday said, and he motioned to Savage, who looked very bored. "Besides, don't we have an Auror who can summon a corporeal Patronus? All the safeguards are in place."
Despite Faraday's assurances, Harry never wanted to go near the cage. The mere sight of the dementor made him depressed and gave him goosebumps.
"Didn't you complain about the heat in your office? I'll tell the Department of Mysteries to bring you another dementor —"
"No thanks, it suddenly stopped being hot," said Harry quickly.
"Wait a minute, Harry," Faraday approached just as Harry was about to leave in a hurry. "Raise your hand, I have a present for you."
Faraday wrapped a band around Harry's right wrist instead of placing something on his outstretched hand.
"What is this?" asked Harry, inspecting the strap of unknown purpose. A long rubber cord hung from the rope wrapped around the wrist.
"Eldred Worple wrote a biography of you, you know. Having read it recently, it seems you enjoy using the Disarming Spell the most," said Faraday. He then took Harry's wand and tied it tightly to the end of the rubber band dangling from his wrist. "This will make you immune to this spell in the future. . . . I've been working on magical defenses lately, since I have some free time, and I was hoping to get a test subject."
Harry stared at his wand, which now hung frail from his wrist. Although he had strong doubts that such a crude thing could block the Disarming Charm, he did not express them.
"Thanks, Faraday. It might come in handy," said Harry dryly. "As for the Magical Maintenance staff, can we cancel their dismissals? They're all hardworking, diligent people."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. I was going to call them back a few days after I pretended to fire them for good," Faraday said, sitting down in front of his computer. "And don't forget to wear the band wherever you go!"
Harry returned to Auror Headquarters to find the air still sweltering, and his Aurors, without exception, sending cool breezes into their faces from their wands.
"What happened, Harry?" Teddy asked, following Harry into his office. "Why is it still hot?"
"Don't mention it. Faraday said he would send a dementor to cool the air if we complained again," Harry grunted, and an expectant smile on Teddy's face was wiped away by those words. "We'd better wait a couple of days. That's how long it'll take to get the fired Maintenance staff back. . . ."
"Yes, I understand. That Faraday is a notorious miser, I've heard. At St. Mungo's, they take in poor werewolves to prevent accidents and prescribe Wolfsbane Potion on the Ministry's budget. And the Squib's been trying to cut that funding lately, too, though I got Hermione to stop him," said Teddy glumly. "By the way, your friend Mrs. Luna Scamander just dropped by . . . . For the eleventh time, she urged us to act before all the lovely spiders in the Forbidden Forest were wiped out."
"Good thing I wasn't here," Harry grinned wryly.
"Oh, and I left a letter on your desk."
Teddy pointed to a parchment envelope, which Harry opened and pulled out the letter inside.
"It's from Aberforth. . . . He wants to know if we have learned anything new about the Fourth Curse." Harry took out a blank piece of parchment and began scribbling words on it with his eagle-feather quill. "I should tell him what I learned on my last trip to Azkaban . . ."
"Well, we didn't find out much, did we?" said Teddy morosely. "We know nothing about the curse except that it might be associated with unhappiness and that it destroys the bodies of its victims."
"At least we know more than we did before," Harry said, finishing his letter. "Now all we can do is wait for Aberforth to remember something he missed. . . . Perhaps he has heard of the curse, if Albus Dumbledore knew about it well enough to use it."
"Good. I'm anxious to learn more about the curse and to fight Eisenbein again," said Teddy, rubbing his muscular arms. "Let me train the new Aurors when they arrive."
"As far as I can tell, you're the one who needs training," Harry said as he sealed the envelope with the completed letter. "Four veteran Aurors have recently returned from Azkaban, so learn what you can from them. And please send this letter for me."
As June drew to a close, the heat became increasingly intense. Auror Headquarters had a fresh, cool atmosphere now that Faraday had returned the dismissed wizards to Magical Maintenance, and Teddy Lupin's displeasure had subsided with it. It was a season of vitality, and now the fresh green leaves of the beech trees were thickening, and various insects were chirping joyfully. In summer, even the deserted streets of Grimmauld Place looked pleasant.
Harry and Ginny traveled to King's Cross Station on their day off in early July; Hogwarts was on summer break for two months. On their way home on the Underground train, Lily was excited to tell her parents about her success with the Riddikulus Charm to remove a boggart from the school. When Harry announced that preparations for the Quidditch World Cup were well underway, Albus and James cheered happily.
"How's school been lately?" Harry asked Albus.
"Nothing new, really. Slytheirns are still stealing and destroying Muggle equipment whenever they get the chance," said Albus darkly. "Nothing serious has happened yet, though. It seems that Zabini and his gang have been taking care of themselves since your last visit to our House, Dad."
"Well, then my visit was worthwhile," said Harry. It lightened his heart to see his children in good health.
Bright daylight greeted them as they ascended the escalator from the Underground station. The owls in their cages hooted angrily whenever the carriage rattled, but Harry had grown accustomed to the Muggle glances. The Potters stopped in front of numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place, as the two houses parted to reveal a large mansion between them. The sweet smell of Kreacher's treacle tarts filled his nostrils when Harry opened the door and stepped inside.
"Welcome back, young masters!" Kreacher exclaimed brightly, bowing his head as he led the family into the kitchen. It was as if Harry was on summer vacation as well, laughing and chatting happily with the children and Ginny. In retrospect, he realized how miserable his summer holidays had been at number four, Privet Drive, and how lucky his children were to have an experience so different from the one he had had.
The month of July flew by. As in previous months, the Dawn Breakers remained in hiding. There were times when Harry forgot that he was fighting a silent war in the midst of a peaceful family life. In fact, Eisenbein would never be able to master Death and carry out his evil plans unless he found the Resurrection Stone. It was Harry's hope that this peace would last forever, and he enjoyed spending time with Ron and Hermione's families, occasionally making it to local Quidditch matches and taking their sons for flight training in the nearby woods.
One day, Harry had just returned from a shopping trip to Diagon Alley with his family. As Ginny, James, Albus and Lily made their way home, Kreacher politely handed Harry a parchment envelope.
"A letter has just arrived, Master Harry."
Standing in front of the umbrella stand made from a troll's leg, he examined the envelope. On the letterhead was the name Aberforth Dumbledore, and inside was the following:
Harry,
Thank you for updating me on your progress so far in your last letter. It seems that understanding the basic effects of the curse (I'll just write that way from now on, since it keeps getting erased) was an important first step.
By denying its victims even death, it brings extreme misfortune to its victims — which fully explains how dementors acquired their terrible form. . . . Hearing about the curse also inspired me to think about my late brother and his life's path, for he's supposed to have known about it. It was then that my mind suddenly wandered back to a certain day in my childhood: The day my father was sent to Azkaban for avenging the attack on my poor sister. . . . That day is still very vivid to me, even at this age.
My family has a long and rich history, and many books had been passed down from generation to generation in our extensive library, though my illiteracy at the time prevented me from going into the study. All those old books were confiscated by the Ministry of Magic when my father was taken away. But I suspect that Albus, who had had a keen mind from an early age, have had the opportunity to read all those writings in there before they were taken away.
It is possible that he learned of the curse from one of them and used it . . . though I still find it hard to believe that my brother would have done such a terrible thing. As far as I can tell, the confiscated books are probably still hidden somewhere in the Ministry of Magic. While you know more about how the Ministry operates, the Department of Mysteries may have the forbidden books. Rumor has it that the Unspeakables have filled the empty hall with all their junk since you broke the orbs containing the prophecies when you were a child (you hear all kinds of stories if you run the Hog's Head).
If there is no other obvious clue, I would recommend looking there first.
Best wishes in your future endeavors,
Aberforth.
Harry slapped hand on his head. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Obviously, the Department of Mysteries was the most likely source of information about the Fourth Curse. Maybe he could find a way to destroy Eisenbein's cursed soul once and for all. Once he won, all his worries would be over, just like when he fought Voldemort. . . . From then on, he would be able to live a pleasant and carefree life, just like he was doing now.
"The steak is getting cold, Master Harry!" called Kreacher from the kitchen, and Harry made his way into the kitchen to join the meal.
"The Department of Mysteries — that's an intriguing suggestion," Hermione said, reading the letter from Aberforth the next day as Harry sat across from her in the Minister's office. "Actually, it was in the Hall of Prophecy where I discovered Nobby Leach's portrait — there was a lot of clutter and old books piled all over the place. At first glance, some of the books didn't look like they should be touched, so I left them there. . . ."
"It sounds more appealing coming from a bookworm like you. There must be some mention of the Fourth Curse in those forbidden books," said Harry hopefully. "I'd like to go in there right now, but according to our rules, outsiders are only allowed in with the permission of the Head of the Department of Mysteries. So I thought it would be nice to hire your help."
"Okay, I'll call Saul Croaker, Head of the Department, to discuss it," Hermione said, writing a message on violet-colored paper with her quill. "In any case, I can't guarantee you'll get permission. . . . Even I've only been to his department once, on the pretext of an inspection."
Hermione flicked her wand and turned her memo into a paper airplane that flew into the ceiling vent. It was about ten minutes before someone knocked on the door.
"Please come in!" Hermione waved her wand and the lock clicked open.
An old wizard in a black robe and pointed hat opened the door and slouched into the room. Saul Croaker's face resembled that of a withering plant; the wrinkles on his face made it impossible for Harry to read his expression. As if to demonstrate the exemplary demeanor of an Unspeakable — the term used to refer to the staff of the Department of Mysteries — Croaker lowered his gaze and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
"Good morning, Minister," Croaker muttered, his eyes still glued to the desk.
"Welcome, Saul," Hermione said as she pointed to Harry. "It just so happens that Mr. Potter here would like to see your department. It might be of some use in the fight against the Dark Side —"
"In no way," said Croaker determinedly. He looked up, but stared at the ceiling rather than at Harry or Hermione. "We brought you to our floor before, Madam Granger, because it is customary to do so when a new Minister takes office, and no one else is allowed in our department under any other circumstances. We have a strict policy of not speaking to anyone about what we do, and of course we cannot show it either."
"Well, for a place like that, the security wasn't very thorough," said Harry coolly. "I had no trouble opening the door and getting in when I visited there in my fifth year at Hogwarts."
"That's exactly why you can't visit there now! My department has already been irreparably damaged by your illegal actions as a student. All the prophecies we collected over hundreds of years were destroyed that night —"
"Because you let the Death Eaters roam freely through the Hall of Prophecy," Hermione cut in. "In case you didn't notice, I was there with Harry. We had no choice but to break the orbs in order to survive!"
"Not only that, but that battle destroyed all the Time-Turners we had!" cried Croaker indignantly. "I once studied time in depth and even had a theory named after me, but after that day, everything had become impossible . . ."
"We shouldn't bring up old matters," said Harry bluntly. In addition to Croaker's growing anger as they talked about that night, Harry's heart was aching as he thought about Sirius's tragic death. "I must go in — the future of our world may depend on it."
"Absolutely not," said Croaker stubbornly, his eyes now fixed on a nearby bookshelf. "The decision to let someone into our department is mine alone. No one can help it, not even you, Madam Granger — only I have that authority!"
"Yes, that's true," said Hermione, "and it is the Treasurer's sole authority to allocate budgets to each department. . . . Are you aware that Mr. Prewett is not very happy with your department at the moment? Faraday is always saying that Unspeakables are as good as Unpayables and is planning to cut your budget —"
"Wait!" Croaker shouted urgently, looking directly at Hermione for the first time. "Are you threatening me, Minister? You cannot do that — the Department of Mysteries has had full independence for centuries!"
"But has it always been like this?" Hermione wondered, narrowing her eyes. "During Voldemort's reign," (Croaker winced when she said the name), "you Unspeakables claimed that Muggle-borns had either stolen or robbed pure-blood wizards and witches of their magical power. . . . You only demand independence when your opponents are easy to deal with, don't you?"
Probably at a loss for words, Croacker looked down at the desk again. As shadows fell across his face, the lines on his face deepened.
"Very well, Madam Granger . . . Mr. Potter will receive a letter of permission from me," said Croaker barely audibly. "Also, Mr. Potter, please visit our department on weekends when the Unspeakables aren't around, as our work is confidential."
"Maybe Faraday was right about the Unspeakables," Hermione said after Croaker had stomped out. "Isn't it because they do so little work that they hide it from us so thoroughly?"
Harry burst out laughing at her words and said, "Hermione — you're sounding more and more like Faraday, aren't you?"
"How can you even say that?" snapped Hermione, although she didn't seem all that upset. "Good luck then, Harry — I hope there is something useful down there. Let me know if you find anything!"