"Ah, Sirius, noble thoughts indeed." Dumbledore announced from the doorway, before strolling into the room, his twinkling eyes fixed on Sirius.
"You are quite right, the essence of a man lives on not only in the memories of others but also in the choices and impact he leaves behind. As Seneca the Warlock once said, 'It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it. The greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it.'"
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, even if he shuffled awkwardly under Dumbledore's words. "Erm, right you are."
"Now," Dumbledore continued, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word with Harry here. I believe Remus and Arthur are eagerly awaiting your presence downstairs, Sirius, so they can give you the 'cliff notes' for our meeting, as I hear you put it."
"Ah, about that Headmaster, I really didn't mean-" Sirius began, only to halter as Dumbledore raised a calming hand.
"Your meaning needs no explanation, you are a grown man, and I trust you to make your own decisions. As such, rest assured I fully support your desire to spend time with Harry.
"Although I will say from a personal standpoint, I did miss your sharp wit during today's meeting." Dumbledore added, his beard twitched into a soft smile.
"Right, well erm, thank you. I'll just be off then." Sirius answered, eyes meeting Harry's to share a nod for good luck, before leaving the room as fast as could be polite.
Dumbledore watched Sirius depart, his smile lingering. "Ah, Sirius does amuse me at times. I cannot lie; there are times when I can only see the damage he carries, but I can also see the growth he's forced himself to undertake. Although I do wonder if he'll ever be able to talk to me without feeling like he's in trouble."
"Has anyone ever been able to forget their old school days around you, sir?" Harry asked jokingly.
Chuckling in response, Dumbledore's eyes once again twinkled with amusement. "Oh, one or two, for better or for worse. It is the curse and privilege of an educator to see their old charges grow, yet never truly celebrate their growth with them. Now, here's your arm and Gauntlet back. I trust I don't have to worry about you having used it to listen in on our Order meeting?" Dumbledore asked, raising his eyebrow.
"I hadn't thought of that actually. So no, you don't have to worry, but I can't make the same promise for the future." Harry joked, slotting the Gauntlet back over the stump of his arm.
Sighing fondly, Dumbledore let the matter drop, "That as it may, there is more I wish to speak with you about Harry, please take a seat."
Rather than trust the decayed chairs available around the room, Harry instead used the Gauntlet to transfigure the closest chair into a much cleaner wingback chair. He couldn't quite get rid of the smell of the damp and decay, but at least the dust and mould had gone.
Harry's work, though impressive, was instantly overshadowed by Dumbledore's own chair—a squashy chintz armchair, which he'd conjured from thin air. Clearly showing off, its fabric even radiated a subtle warmth, and carried a vague lemony scent that easily muted the room's prior smells.
"Ah yes, this is much better. Now, Harry, we must discuss the immediate future. I know Nymphadora is likely already delivering her report on events, however I do not have much faith in its success.
"No, I fear the Minister will push to have your hearing go ahead. I would urge you to reach out to the lovely Ms. Greengrass; I'm sure her father would be eager to help you out, especially after receiving your aid."
Harry's fists clenched involuntarily. The Minister's insistence on pushing forward with his hearing fuelled a surge of burning resentment within him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
He then registered Dumbledore's advice, a twinge of alarm coursing through him at the Headmaster's apparent knowledge about his time at Greengrass Manor.
"I… What makes you say that, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.
"As I promised long ago Harry, I do try to respect your privacy. But if you will use Fawkes to travel, he does have an awful tendency to gossip, and from there I can infer a great deal."
Dumbledore explained, giving his patented smile. Now that the expression was aimed at him, Harry knew exactly why Sirius had been so eager to escape.
"Erm, right. I'll send that letter soon. I would've told you Professor, but I was asked to keep it quiet… "
"Quite right. I did not strictly need to know, and you could get in some trouble were you to openly discuss another family's secrets. Now, one point that was raised by the Order is your lack of wand.
"They haven't been told how you were able to fend off the Dementors, and I'd suggest keeping it that way. It is unfortunately likely that Crouch Jr has told Voldemort about your Gauntlet, but we can hope neither fully understands the importance of it.
"But, it would do you well to have a wand for the time being, until you can get a proper wand from Ollivander. I'd take you immediately, but by Ministry decree a wand maker isn't allowed to sell wands to those awaiting trial, which unfortunately counts you now. But, I happen to have a few wands going spare."
To Harry's great surprise, Dumbledore withdrew a roll of soft leather, which he cast to float between them, which unwrapped itself to reveal Dumbledore's three wands. The Elder Wand was noticeably absent from the selection, but Harry was still familiar with the Fir, Ebony, and Hornbeam wands on display.
He knew each had served Dumbledore through different eras of his life, and that he was deeply attached to each. Even going so far as to having repaired all of them to a perfect working order.
Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and trepidation at the sight of the wands. "Are you sure Professor? I… I know how much these wands mean to you, I wouldn't want to put them at risk. I don't exactly have the best track record with my own wands."
"I am quite sure. There are many elements to my decision. The first is that I want you to be safe, and my feelings for these wands are nothing compared to your safety. Secondly, the Ministry has long ago made it law that wands which have been passed down cannot be destroyed.
"As such, should your hearing come out poorly, they could only confiscate one of these wands, rather than trying to destroy whatever you might've bought. Finally, I know my wands long to be used again. Even after I've tried to avoid the Elder Wand, I cannot give all my wands the attention they desire."
Slowly reaching out his hand, Harry let it hover over the wands, simply feeling out the subtle magic at play. To his surprise, he felt a definite pull towards the Hornbeam wand, which he'd deemed the least likely to accept him.
Shortly after he'd moved into Dumbledore's cottage, when he'd first seen the wand, it had firmly revoked his presence, having very clearly marked itself as solely Dumbledore's. Now however, Harry got the sense the wand was ready to change allegiance.
Carefully picking up the nearly black wand, he was again surprised at how natural it felt within his hand, helped along by its accepting magic. Where his younger hand had found the twisting hilt sharp beneath his palm, he now found the same hilt provided a comfortable grip.
Just holding the wand felt right, reminding him of his very first wand, sending a warmth up his arm. "This one, it just feels right."
"Now that is interesting. Gregorovitch crafted that wand specifically for me, using the first wand feather from Fawkes. Its personal connection to me was meant to aid in my confrontation with Gellert and the Elder Wand, which did not disappoint. It served me very well during that war, and ultimately enabled me to best my old friend.
"Of course, once I had claimed the Elder Wand for myself, I noticed to my regret that wand seemed to lose its affinity for me. I can only hope it will now serve you just as well, especially as Hornbeam is known to serve those with a pure passion, or obsession, within their heart."
"Is that a good thing? Seems like something Ron would consider too 'Slytherin'." Harry commented, trying to gauge if Dumbledore actually approved of his choice of wand.
"I suppose it might match Slytherin's ideals," Dumbledore chuckled, pulling at his beard, "But then so did I, at the time. I wouldn't approve obsession for the sake of obsession, but I like to believe my obsession with stopping Gellert saved a great many lives. Including that of your Grandfather, Harry.
"For you, who Voldemort has taken so much? I am unsurprised you'd be passionate about seeing him stopped. However, as always, I would caution you to ensure you do not lose yourself in your quest. You would be doing the world a poor service if, upon vanquishing Voldemort, you end up supplanting him."
"I'll do my best," Harry promised, not quite able to meet Dumbledore's gaze as he did so.
"That is all I ask of you. Now, there was one other matter I wished to discuss." Dumbledore announced, carefully wrapping his wands up again and pocketing them.
"I regret to say this shall be far less pleasant. It's come to my attention that your mind may be vulnerable to Voldemort, especially if you are able to meet him on the field of battle."
Leaning back, Harry studied the Professor's face, trying to find any hint of a joke. "That shouldn't be possible, my mithrilium protects my thoughts. If it was enough to stop you, how would Voldemort be able to penetrate it in the heat of battle?"
"Because when it comes to the mind arts, Voldemort is by far a higher-calibre. I have seen him tear thoughts from highly skilled Order members in the past, having taken advantage of a single moment of weakness. He is skilled to an extent I'd fear for my own mental protection, if not for this-" He explained, before pulling a leather cord from beneath his beard.
At the end of the cord hung a radiant pendant, holding some rough feminine figure within a ring of jewel encrusted gold. Intricate silverwork wove around the gold and gemstones, forming intertwining patterns that came together into protective runes.
And at the centrepiece, within the figure's stomach, sat a shimmering gemstone. It held an ethereal glow, and even from his distance Harry could feel it pulsating with a definite magical aura. Dumbledore seemed unable to help the reverent way he delicately rubbed the pendant, causing a subtle shimmer to enveloped it.
"This," Dumbledore continued, "is Brísingamen, once worn by the Norse goddess Freyja herself. Gellert somehow found it, and later gave it to me, before… the incident. Wearing it provides unparalleled protection to the mind. Its Divine Magick weaves a shield that even Voldemort could never breach."
"Why would a goddess need a pendant to protect her mind?"
"Because the gods of old were never quite as infallible as they'd gotten Muggles to believe. You have to understand, Harry, the gods were very much real beings. Indeed, there are a few carefully tendered tombs you can still visit, where you can feel the remnant magic of the honoured god.
"Durmstrang itself is built upon the final tomb of Mímir, god of knowledge, a tomb I've seen with my own eyes. The power that resides within that tomb is enough to keep Durmstrang's wards on par with what two leylines might accomplish."
Harry, absorbing the weight of this revelation, found it hard to comprehend. He of course had known of Divine Magick, which was often used in the name of a god, but he'd never put much thought behind it. He'd only considered it to be a psychological aspect, over any real attachment.
"Here, feel it for yourself. I find once you've felt the magic of a god, it's much easier to believe in." Dumbledore said, slipping the pendant from his neck and holding it out to him.
Cautiously taking the supposedly ancient artefact, Harry hadn't even fully taken it's weight before he found he understood. Already fairly attuned to the workings of magic, Harry could instantly tell the magic of Brísingamen was reaching out to him simultaneously.
It was far too similar to the sensation of his Gauntlet for his liking, especially given he had no way to control this artefact. He could tell the divine magic of Freyja had deeply embedded itself within the pendant, allowing it to long outlive its first owner, whilst granting it a low level of magical sentience.
From there, Brísingamen could only tell him it had laid with Freyja in her tomb, until it had been taken and passed through various mortal hands, until it found itself within his own. But, it's history wasn't all he was told.
It's own inherited understanding of the mind gave Harry some clue of how its protection worked, enough to know he could theoretically replicate the artefact, assuming he devoted the next decade solely to the project.
The best part was how its form of defence worked independently of its power, or the possible mithraite crystal holding the magic together. No amount of sheer power could ever breach its protections, shielding the mind from most forms of attack or manipulation.
"I take it you see what I mean?" Dumbledore chuckled, gently prying it from Harry's firm grip. The moment the metal left his touch, Harry blinked, finding his mind clear from a fog he hadn't even noticed.
Turning his mind inwards, he caught himself brewing on the prospect of replicating its protection. With a wrench of his will, he forced himself to ignore the desire, sensing it hadn't originated from himself.
Instead, he fed the knowledge straight into his mithrilium, trusting it to incorporate whatever would make it stronger.
"That's quite an addiction." Harry muttered wryly, bringing his hand up to try and rub away his new headache.
"Quite. As with most powerful Named artefacts, it has it's own ideas about what it wants. It took a very long time for the Elder Wand to accept its presence, let me tell you. Unfortunately, I've found Brísingamen isn't quite unassailable.
"It can however fail to counter certain attacks, especially those that came after its time. For instance, potions will not register to it at all. For that reason, alongside the fact Gellert didn't obtain Brísingamen in a strictly legal sense, I do my best to keep my possession of Brísingamen a secret."
Harry sighed, the lingering echoes of the artefact's influence still tugging at his thoughts. "Why tell me? Why show me this at all?"
"In part, because I thought it would interest you," Dumbledore answered slowly, slumping back into his chair, eyes scanning Harry's, "Please, forgive me if I was wrong."
It took a while for Harry to respond, as he found himself again lost in a mixture of fascination and unease at the revelation of magical secrets, wondering just how many layers of the wizarding world remained hidden from his understanding.
"No, I'm sorry Professor, I didn't mean to offend you. I do find it very fascinating, although I think it's a bit much at the moment. No, I meant, why show me now, if I'm at risk of Voldemort taking the knowledge from my mind."
"Oh, I'm glad you still find it fascinating." Dumbledore replied happily, leaning forward once more, "I thought it would be better to explain why I personally do not fear Voldemort's mental attacks, if I had a visual aid.
"Besides which, I must admit I was curious how much you'd be able to tell, especially with how much your mithril might be able to simulate its effects. It would be nice to have someone to truly confide in again, without fear. As it is, I suppose I shall have to look elsewhere to help protect your mind.
"I suspect you'd be made well aware of any mental intrusion, and perhaps you will be able to fight him off. But until we can know for sure, I regret to say we must limit your degree of knowledge. However, I see no reason why you cannot know as much as the rest of the Order, who are already at a similar risk as yourself."
"It's hard to imagine how I couldn't detect Voldemort's intrusion. The whole direct eye contact to form a mental connection is usually a good indicator, although I suppose he could wear a wig and sunglasses and try to ambush me in a busy street."
"You are incorrectly assuming Voldemort needs such aids. If determined enough, I have known Voldemort to attack his victims while they are many miles away, even if he could only ever pry information. Even though I've taken steps to prevent such repeat attacks, I cannot in good faith say it's impossible he might draw your thoughts from your mind."
"Well then… is there even any point to me trying to train and combat him?" Harry exclaimed, rocking back in his chair in annoyance.
"According to you, he could simply read my mind and prepare himself for whatever I decide to use against him. I might as well save my energy and do nothing, and then meet the same fate anyway."
"Consider this, Harry. If Voldemort were to peer into your mind, what options would he have? To maintain his advantage, he'd need significant time for rigorous training, a challenging task at his level.
"However, that time spent honing skills is time diverted from plotting against us, an advantage for our cause. Alternatively, he might perceive your intent and consider your growth beneath him, bringing you closer to his level when you next cross paths." Dumbledore pointed out.
"Now, let's explore the alternative. If he were to read your mind and then perceive your lack of action, he'd certainly feel no urgency to enhance himself. Instead, he'd focus solely on plotting, placing us both at a disadvantage during the eventual confrontation.
"On the other hand, if he doesn't delve into your thoughts, you'd simply have wasted the time between now and then. To my eyes, you only come out worse if you sit back and do nothing."
Begrudgingly, Harry could only nod in agreement, especially once Dumbledore had risen to vanish his chair.
"Now, I have told you all I felt you needed to hear. My offer of training you once the Summer ends still stands, and I hope you understand why I have no choice but to withhold information from you. I also feel it's for the best that you remain here for the rest of Summer."
"What's wrong with your house?" Harry asked in surprise, suddenly fearful that his home for the last few years had been destroyed.
Dumbledore's gaze softened, seeing the concern etched on Harry's face. "Nothing, I assure you. However, whilst your mithril wards repelled the attack, they should've alerted me to such an attack. They are not supposed to remain silent in the face of an attack, leaving Nicholas' own testimony as the only evidence we have of the attack, which makes me wonder if they'd endured similar attacks in the past, without our knowledge."
Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember what he and Professor Babbling had done to create the mithril wards. "They shouldn't have… The wards should work exactly like a normal ward, just boosted by the mithril. What will you do until I can fix that issue?"
Dumbledore sighed, his eyes wandering the room as if the answers could be found within the Black Tapestry. "It's challenging to say, my boy. I would not like to give up the excellent wards you've created. But at the same time, I now cannot be sure of their true utility.
"As such, for now, you'd be safest here. Between the Black family wards, and my Fidelius charm, Voldemort himself could be out in the street and be unable to reach you. You'll have the Order members close by, and we can continue your training. Besides which, I'm sure Sirius will be delighted at your company. Now, I believe Molly has prepared a delicious dinner for you all, and I'd be remiss to keep you from it any longer."
Re-entering the kitchen, Harry was surprised at the number of Weasley's dotted around. He'd already seen Mr and Mrs Weasley, but he hadn't expected to see their children, given their mother's issue with his own age.
Ron visibly brightened upon seeing him, which also earned him the twin's attention. In between them, a gaunt looking Ginny simply played with a food. Seeing her sent a pang of regret through him, remembering his friendly conversations with the reborn Tom Riddle, who had only come back after stealing Ginny's magic.
However, it was the final Weasley he was unsure about. Unless Percy had undergone a serious change since they'd last met, there was yet another Weasley. Harry's eyes lingered on the tall figure, noting the distinctive features of someone who had been out in the world, facing challenges beyond the confines of an easy life.
This Weasley, with his weathered appearance and the subtle dragonhide sheen on his coat, carried himself differently from the others. If Harry couldn't see the bright hair of Tonks, he'd almost wonder if his friend had morphed herself to look like a Weasley.
To his embarrassment, the man caught his staring, before crossing the kitchen to hold out his hand. "Harry, I've heard much about you, I'm Bill. Bill Weasley, if that wasn't obvious from my hair."
"Nice to meet you, Bill," Harry replied, accepting the handshake with a firm grip. "I've heard a bit about you too. Seems like you've had your fair share of adventures."
Bill chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Adventures might be an understatement. Working for Gringotts exposes you to all sorts of things. But enough about me, I've been looking forward to meeting the famous Harry Potter.
"Charlie won't shut up about how you fought your dragon. Really wish I could've gotten some free time to see it myself. Nice coat, by the way. Dumbledore mentioned you've got some experience with creating magical items."
"I dabble. I take it you've got experience yourself then?" Harry asked leadingly.
Bill nodded, his eyes glinting with a hint of pride. "Oh, more than dabbling, I'd say. Working with Gringotts, you learn to recognize magical items and artefacts like the back of your hand. It's practically my job to know them inside out, once we break into the tomb itself."
Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Must be a fascinating job."
Bill chuckled. "It has its moments. I've seen everything from ancient goblin-made treasures to cursed antiques. Keeps you on your toes, that's for sure. Is that something you might be interested in, or are you more about creating artefacts?"
"Currently, I take whatever I can get my hands on. But certainly whilst I'm in Hogwarts, creating stuff for myself is easier than finding something."
"Yeah, I get you. If it's not too presumptive of me, how's that shield coming along? Fleur mentioned you'd asked her to enchant it, and we'd both wondered what you'd end up doing with it."
"Fleur told you?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling quite defensive.
Bill raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Easy there, mate. Fleur and I work together, and often end up sharing things, especially when it comes to interesting magical projects. She's got a knack for enchantments… as you'd already know. Anyway, we were just curious. No need to spill the beans if it's a secret."
Harry relaxed a bit, realising there was no harm intended. "It's not a secret, really. I'm working on enhancing my defensive capabilities. With Voldemort around, you can never be too prepared. The shield is just one part of it. I'm hoping to experiment with different magical alloys in the future to create something even more versatile, which can adapt to different threats."
Bill's eyes gleamed with interest. "That sounds fascinating. Mind showing me sometime? I'd love to see the process."
Harry considered it for a moment, considering how much to reveal. "Sure, why not? I could use another pair of experienced eyes. I've run into a problem where I can only have a few types of protective magic active at the same time, I can't just have them all on at once."
With a flick, he brought his shield to bear, before removing it from his Gauntlet and passing it to Bill.
The moment Bill touched the mithril shield, his eyes rose, before he nimbly flipped it over to investigate the runes on the inside.
"And you say you made this yourself? Other than the wood Fleur enchanted?"
"Well, I had help with the rune work, but for the most part, yeah." Harry answered, only for Bill to draw his wand and erect a silencing barrier around them.
"You know how to work Goblin silver?" Bill asked, having gained a new intensity.
"Well… yes, but this isn't Goblin silver. It's something else. How can you tell, anyway?"
"Goblin silver, or whatever this metal is, always feels unique. It's got a smoothness other metals lack, and makes your fingers almost tingle." Bill replied, inspecting the shield closer, his fingers tracing the intricate runes. "I've come across a few similar works in ancient tombs, but I always thought it was Goblin silver. Are you telling me there's more wizards out there who can just create this stuff?"
"Not to my knowledge, it's just me… Dumbledore thinks it's a rare ability that only shows up a few times across the generations. It's served me quite well, as you can see."
"That's quite the talent you've got there, Harry. Creating a metal like this is no small feat," Bill remarked, still examining the shield with a newfound appreciation. "I can't understand all these runes, which is impressive by itself, but I can tell it's strong. Unfortunately, I think it's a tad beyond me.
"If I found this in a tomb, I'd know it's incredibly potent, but I'd just hand it off to Gringotts and let them deal with it from there. Damn, I would've asked for more for them if I'd known how rare it was. Now, my suggestion to you is to glaze these runes, if you've finished with them.
"I don't know what type of glazing would work best for you here, but I know Fleur's people use a type of amber to protect their runes. It stops the runes wearing away. I think the goblins use a type of liquid crystal to fill their runes."
With that, Bill turned the shield back over to Harry, unable to hide his grin as Harry reattached it to his arm, and then sliding the shield back into his Gauntlet.. "That's a remarkable piece of work, you should be proud. If you ever want me to test your work, I'll be proud to do so. But for now I think mum's about to go spare."
"I appreciate that, Bill. I'll keep your offer in mind," Harry said, giving a nod of gratitude. "And thanks for the advice." He would've said more, but the twins chose that moment to cause chaos, spilling butterbeer everywhere and almost sending a bread knife through Sirius' hand.
As Bill rushed over to help his dad clean up, Harry went over to sit beside Sirius, catching the tail end of Mrs Weasley's tirade.
"Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy-" Only to stop dead, before glancing at her wooden faced husband.
Having no idea what that had been about, Harry almost asked Sirius, only to see the man subtly shake his head. Instead, Bill and Lupin broke up the icy mood, bringing a start to the dinner.
Silently observing the table, Harry was somewhat surprised at how mundane everything seemed. Mrs Weasley discussed with Sirius about a possible boggart, whilst Tonks was doing her best to cheer Ginny up.
Across from him, Ron and the twins were arguing about the Chudley Cannons chances, yet again.
To Harry, the only important conversation was between Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Bill Weasley, who were discussing the goblins' stance on Voldemort's return.
"They're not giving anything away yet, I still can't work out whether or not they believe he's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."
"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who," Mr. Weasley commented, shaking his head. "They've suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?"
"I think it depends what they're offered," Lupin said, "And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"
"He's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment," said Bill, "he hasn't stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know-"
Laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill's words, despite Harry's best efforts to listen in.
"What's this about the Goblins?" Harry called, leaning towards them.
"Oh, well Dumbledore's been trying to form alliances with those unconnected with the Ministry, to try and stop You-Know-Who doing the same." Sirius replied through the sudden silence, before Mrs. Weasley surged forwards.
"No! Harry's not to be told what we've been doing!"
"Molly, Harry was there when Dumbledore spoke about forming these alliances. We aren't risking anything by telling him." Sirius responded heatedly.
"And the other children? What about them then, hmm?"
Sirius, maintaining his firm stance, responded, "Molly, none here will suffer from hearing about this. Now, if I were to talk about what we were doing down in the Department-" Sirius was swiftly cut off as his lips sealed themselves together beneath Mrs. Weasley's raised wand.
Mrs. Weasley, her wand still pointed firmly at Sirius, glared at him before addressing the table. "If you adults want to share your Order secrets, that's your business. But there are certain things that shouldn't be spread freely, especially not around the children. We've already seen enough danger."
Sirius, his mouth still magically sealed, shot an exasperated look at Mrs. Weasley, who remained resolute.
"Now that's out the way, what's this about the Goblins?" Harry reiterated, deciding to let Sirius remain under Mrs. Weasley's curse.
"Essentially, Dumbledore is concerned certain magical creatures will be pushed into joining You-Know-Who. He's reaching out to various groups to form alliances and strengthen our resistance," Lupin explained, glancing around the table to ensure Mrs. Weasley wasn't about to cast another spell.
"Bill here has been trying to gauge the goblins' stance on Voldemort's return," Mr. Weasley added.
Bill nodded, picking up the conversation. "It's a delicate matter. Goblins are historically neutral, but their grievances with the Ministry, especially over financial disputes, have intensified. Ragnok, the head of Gringotts, is particularly vocal about his distrust of wizards, especially after the Bagman incident."
"Ragnok believes the Ministry covered up the goblins' losses from the Triwizard Tournament. As you might imagine, he's not too happy about it, and it's making negotiations difficult. There's a rumour round the office that Lucius Malfoy has made overtures to privately pay off the debt, which we fear will put Ragnok firmly in You-Know-Who's camp."
"Okay, and so you've been trying to, what, offer to pay off the debt ourselves?" Harry guessed, only to get embarrassed looks around the table.
"Well, actually no. Dumbledore believes the Goblins will see that their debt is nothing compared to all our fate if You-Know-Who is able to wage war again," Lupin explained, his gaze serious. "Our primary goal is to secure alliances, to ensure we have united forces against the impending threat. Paying off the debt might be a temporary solution, but it won't guarantee the goblins' loyalty in the long run. We need them to stand with us willingly."
Harry scoffed, a disbelieving smile playing on his lips. "Let me get this straight. Bagman owes the Goblins, can't pay, and now the Ministry is shielding him. And instead of settling the debt like any normal person would, Dumbledore's brilliant plan is to convince the Goblins to forgive it altogether?"
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a mixture of frustration and disbelief on his face. "Forgive me if I expected something a bit more... proactive. I don't know, maybe actually doing something about Voldemort instead of discussing debts with the goblins."
The room fell into a tense silence as Harry's words hung in the air. Mrs. Weasley, her face tight with concern, was the first to break the silence.
"Harry, dear, it's not that simple. Negotiations and alliances are crucial in a situation like this. We can't just charge in without a plan; we need support, both magical and political."
"Harry, it's not that we're avoiding action. Dumbledore's working on multiple fronts. We're trying to gather allies, strengthen our defences, and understand our enemy. It's a complicated game, and sometimes we have to make strategic moves that may seem indirect." Lupin added.
Bill Weasley, who had been listening intently, spoke up, "Harry, I get your frustration. But war isn't won in a day. It requires careful planning and manoeuvring. We're not just fighting against Voldemort, we're up against an entire system that's been tainted by his influence."
"Right. And we lose what by just paying off the Goblins?" Harry asked pointedly, his gaze challenging those around him.
Sirius, maintaining a calm demeanour, replied, "It's not just about paying off a debt. If we settle Bagman's issue like that, it sets a precedent. It shows weakness, vulnerability. Voldemort thrives on exploiting perceived weaknesses. We can't afford to appear feeble in the eyes of our enemies."
Tonks chimed in, "And it's not just about the Goblins. We're dealing with a delicate balance. Dumbledore is working on building a united front against Voldemort. If we mishandle these situations, it could fracture the alliances we're trying to create. We need unity, not fractures."
"Fine, I can accept that. Who else are we trying to court? I believe Dumbledore mentioned giants to Fudge, what do the giants want?"
"That, we don't know. Rubeus was meant to have reached the giants by now, but seeing as he remained behind to guard you, his mission was delayed somewhat. Not that it's your fault, of course, Harry dear, but we won't know what the giants might want until Rubeus can get back to us."
"Alright, so we're waiting on information from the giants. What about other potential allies?"
Bill Weasley leaned forward, "There are talks with various magical beings - currently the centaurs, merfolk, and Veela have agreed to be neutral. The trolls have, unsurprisingly, refused to engage in talks, and the vampires aren't letting themselves be found."
"Which just leaves me with the werewolves," Lupin finished, his expression weary. "I've been reaching out to them, trying to gain their support. Unfortunately, the prejudice against werewolves runs deep, and many of them are appreciative of the terms Voldemort can offer them."
"Alright, what terms do they want then? What can we offer them, to keep them from joining Voldemort?"
Lupin sighed, "There's little we could offer them. For many werewolves, it's about seeking revenge. They've endured years of discrimination and persecution. They've lost faith in the possibility of ever re-joining society, and instead, they seek to punish the wizarding world as they've been punished.
"I think you can understand why Dumbledore isn't willing to accept their demands. And with the Ministry passing yet another anti-werewolf law, it's hard for me to reach out to them, and secure their support."
Ron, who had been quietly listening, interjected, "But why is the Ministry doing that? Shouldn't they be helping?"
Mr. Weasley sighed, "Ron, the Ministry is in a state of denial. Even being seen as pro-Dumbledore is frowned upon. Fudge is stubborn and refuses to acknowledge the danger. It's yet another thing Dumbledore is working on changing, but Fudge isn't budging."
"No, but the werewolves must surely want something we can give them. Something more than 'Please ignore how we used to treat you. We'll probably do it again.' The choice can't be between the status quo and joining Voldemort."
"Well, unless you have a cure to lycanthropy lying around, what more can we do?" Lupin replied bitterly. "It's always been clear the public won't support integrating werewolves, especially with the Ministry's current stance."
Harry felt his frustration growing as he leaned forward, "There has to be something we can do. If the Ministry won't change, then we need another solution. Maybe there's a way to help them despite their lycanthropy. Some kind of compromise that keeps everyone safe."
"And if they're joining Voldemort because they think he can offer them a better deal, we need to show them that there's hope with us, too." Ron chimed in.
"That's a good dream, Ronald. Unfortunately, what can I give them to prove there is any hope? The werewolves know Voldemort won't bring change for the better, but they simply don't care. For them, they'd prefer the chance to get their revenge over their continued suffering."
"I think, that's enough of this discussion for tonight," Mrs. Weasley declared, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of argument. "It's getting late, and the children need their rest. We can revisit this another time when everyone's had a chance to cool off. Off to bed now, all of you."
Immediately, Ron and the twins rose to complain, only to immediately get shut down by their mother. Moodily, they all marched out, leaving Mrs. Weasley to turn her hesitant gaze towards Harry.
Standing slowly, Harry sighed and let the matter drop.
"Fine, I'll go to bed… Assuming I have a room here?"
"Ah, right of course, Kreacher!" Sirius called, looking around expectantly. "Damn that elf, Kreacher! Come here!"
With an audible crack, a house-elf materialised beside Sirius, staring up at his balefully. Unlike Dobby, who'd always displayed a youthful exuberance, this elf was the exact opposite. His nose, though bulbous, seemed oddly compressed, his bloodshot lidded eyes held a clear weariness, and numerous folds of sagging skin draped over his form. He even had tufts of white hair sprouted from his drooping ears, which hung down behind him.
In all, it was a pitiful sight, right up until the elf worked his mouth to spit a glob of mucus at Sirius' feet.
"Disgraced Master calls for Kreacher?"
Sirius scowled at the disrespectful display but kept his composure. "Yes, Kreacher, I did. We have a new guest, and my godson Harry needs a room. Make sure he's comfortable."
The ancient elf slowly turned his gaze upon Harry, eyes opening in recognition, before scowling.
"Kreacher knows this one. Kreacher knows of the boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Undeserving of such accommodation within the Sacred home of Black. The Mudblood will sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. No less than where he belongs."
Sirius' expression darkened at Kreacher's words. "Enough of that, Kreacher. Harry is my guest, and he will have a proper room. Show him to one immediately."
Kreacher's scowl deepened, but he begrudgingly obeyed, stopping just outside the kitchen as he waited for Harry to follow.
"I'm sorry about that, Harry. Kreacher can be quite difficult," Sirius apologised, shooting a disapproving look at the elf. "Anyway, sleep well! If you've got any problems, at least one of us will be down here throughout the night."
Giving a brief wave to those around the table, Harry let Kreacher lead him through the dimly lit corridors of Grimmauld Place, the soft creaking of floorboards, derelict appearance, and distant murmurs added an eerie ambiance. Doing his best to ignore the creepiness of the house, he found himself listening in on the elf's self commentary.
It was only when Kreacher seemed to be talking about him again did he decide to engage the elf. "What did you just call me, Kreacher?"
"The mudblood child addresses Kreacher? Filthy Mysthari thought Kreacher wouldn't know of him, but Kreacher always knows."
"Yes, I do address you. That name, Mysthari, what does it mean?" Harry demanded, unnerved at the sense of connection he'd felt when the elf had used the name.
A sly grin spread across Kreacher's wrinkled face. "The Mysthari, can it be he doesn't know?"
"Obviously, I wouldn't ask if I didn't. Now, spill, what on earth are you talking about?"
"The Mysthari," Kreacher began, his tone carrying a mix of disdain and reluctant acknowledgment, "the creator of Doblenheim the abomination. Named forevermore so that all may know him on sight, and know the foul magic he cast."
"The Mysthari's legacy is one of creation and destruction. Doblenheim was his experiment, his folly. A magical being unlike any other, born of his arrogance and thirst for power," Kreacher explained, his voice a low murmur. The name 'Doblenheim' resonated in the air, carrying a weight that Harry wouldn't have anticipated.
"Doblenheim? What's… wait, are you talking about Dobby?" Harry asked incredulously.
"A name Kreacher can no longer use. But Kreacher knew that name, once. The abomination came to Kreacher in the night, speaking foul words of treachery and corruption. But Kreacher wouldn't listen. Kreacher would beat him, as Kearcher would beat a mangy cur!"
Kreacher's eyes narrowed, a mixture of resentment and lingering anger etched on his wrinkled face. "The Mysthari, in his arrogance, thought to elevate such a lowly elf. Gave him magic, a name, and a purpose beyond his station. But it was a mockery, a perversion of our kind."
Harry, sensing the tension in the air, pressed further. "What happened, Kreacher? What did Dobby do to earn such disdain?"
"The abomination preached of freedom and liberation, of breaking the chains that bound us to wizards, House Elves rebelling against their nature. To become one of the forsaken Risen Elves, one of Doblenheim's horde. But Kreacher will never be a servant to another, not whilst Kreacher has yet to finish Master's orders."
As Kreacher spoke, a shadow of remorse flickered across his eyes, his voice growing distant. "Foolish Kreacher failed his Master, couldn't fulfil his task as he was ordered. Punished himself, Kreacher did, for his failure, but no difference did it make."
"Right, well all you need to do currently is show me to my room. Unless you expect me to sleep here on the stairs." Harry pointed out, raising his voice to be heard over the mad rambling.
Kreacher's eyes snapped back to the present, the glimmer of remorse vanishing. "Follow Kreacher, Mudblood. Follow, and do not stray. Kreacher will show you to a room, though the honour is wasted on one like you."
Without waiting for a response, the elf began to hobble away again, leading Harry up yet another creaky staircase. Finally, Kreacher stopped before a heavy wooden door, the handle worn from years of use. "Here, Mudblood. Your room. Kreacher hopes the Mysthari shall stay and will not disturb the sacred relics within."
Harry, feeling a twinge of frustration at continued use of the derogatory term, merely nodded. "Thanks, Kreacher. I'll make sure not to disturb anything."
As Kreacher shuffled away, muttering to himself, Harry gave the door a closer look, sighing when he saw the nameplate.
Getting his Gauntlet ready, he pushed the door open, entering Bellatrix Black's old room. The air inside was stale, and the furniture was draped in dusty covers, which at least reassured Harry the room had gone untouched for a while.
Turning to take in the four poster bed, Harry felt he didn't want to risk his chances, and with a simple tap shrunk the bed until it was the size of a toy. Then, causing the Gauntlet to briefly illuminate the room, he recalled the miniature mithril mattress from the Eidolon Core.
Shifting the old bed aside, and placing his mithril in its place, it only took a thought for his trusted mattress to grow to its full size.
Satisfied with his makeshift sleeping arrangement, Harry surveyed the room once more. Dust particles floated in the air as the Gauntlet's glow dimmed, casting a warm ambiance in the dimly lit space.
Casting a detection charm around the room, and then another charm to keep the dust away, Harry transfigured his outfit into suitable pyjamas, before crawling into his new bed. He wrote a quick letter to Daphne, before pulling Corvus from his robes and sent him off to deliver it.
After that, it took him a moment to settle down, before his eyes began to wander, tracing the patterns of the faded wallpaper and the contours of the old furniture. The room, despite its dusty appearance, felt strangely familiar—a place steeped in history, much like Dumbledore's cottage when Harry first moved there.
Memories of that quaint cottage flooded his mind, the scent of parchment, the soft crackling of the fireplace, and the comforting presence of the old headmaster. It was a time when magic had felt like a refuge, providing a sanctuary from the tumultuous world outside.
As Harry lay there, the weight of the past and the echoes of Dumbledore's wisdom seemed to creep towards him, filling his thoughts as his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually settled into sleep.
Discord: kC3mbSpcsx (Take this link code, and then inside discord go to add server, join a server, and paste it there)
Things I think need explaining:
- Dumbledore's wands: They've come up a few times, but this is probably their only plot relevant use. Equally, Dumbledore has stopped using the Elder Wand for a year or two, except when it matters most.
- Bill: This is the first time this Harry is meeting Bill, and also the first consequence of Harry being so open with his mithril. I've gotten several reviews complaining about Harry revealing his mithril to people after he'd been told to keep it secret, but this is the first 'punishment' of him doing so.
A regular student like Hermione or Daphne might understand Harry's mithril is powerful, but they'd only know as much as Harry shares. Other than when Dumbledore first named Mithril, Bill is the first person to recognise it on sight/touch. And if Bill knows, there will be others who can too.
- Harry vs the Order: Canon conversations / views, but now against this Harry's opinions. It's annoyingly canon that Dumbledore was playing softball throughout Voldemort's entire second war, which definitely lost people their lives needlessly.
This story will never be about bashing characters purely out of spite, but equally I won't show Dumbledore as always in the right, because that's not how he was written. In my opinion, Dumbledore's biggest mistake is how he ran the Order, an opinion I see reflected on this site all the time. However, I'm hoping to be somewhat original about it here.
- Dobby & Kreacher: Years ago I said Dobby was visiting the house elves of Death Eaters to try and convert them, and then never brought it up again. I didn't plan for it to take this long, but yeah the reason Dobby when we last saw him only had Winky as a 'follower', is because most elves are like Kreacher. Even if they might like Dobby's ideas (Which most don't anyway), a lot of darker leaning elves see Dobby as different, or as an abomination.