Thanks greatly to those people that keep up the steady stream of reviews, encouragement is well needed and appreciated. Enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Thirty One
A Flurry of Moves
Sirius was very cold, but for the first time since escaping Azkaban it had nothing to do with the weather. Running across the country as a large, Grim-like dog had both its advantages and disadvantages, but one of which he was most appreciative was that, in the right setting, he could easily rummage through people's rubbish for scraps of food and the occasional paper. Luckily, finding wizarding homes was rather easy for him, as he could smell out the magic when in his animagus form, therefore getting editions of the Daily Prophet kept him abreast of the pitiful attempts that the Ministry was making to recapture him.
Dementors at Hogwarts were something of a bigger problem, but he would experience that horror again gladly if it meant saving Harry from the rat, and he continued making headway up toward Scotland, being extremely careful to not attract attention to himself along the way. That was, until he found news that gnawed at him to the very bone. Harry had been kidnapped from the Malfoy's home in Wiltshire, taken by unknown creatures and had never been seen before, and the paper was something like two or three weeks old at the best.
Sirius had frozen with uncertainty. Should he continue with the original plan and try to get at Peter, hiding in the castle all warm and cozy as a pet, or should he abandon the rat as he ought to have so long ago and seek Harry? Even if he did, what good could he do in this state, starving and tired, with no idea where to even start his search?
Whining pitifully in his canine form, Sirius laid down in an attempt to organize his thoughts. Dumbledore had to be working extra hard to find Harry even as he sat here, but Sirius was the boy's godfather, there had to be something he could do to protect the son of his best friend.
Perhaps there was no alternative; Sirius had to reveal himself to someone, preferably Dumbledore himself. The Headmaster was a good man; he'd at least hear Sirius out before throwing him back to the Dementors, right? There were no other options, aside from abandoning Harry again to the winds of fate and going off on his own personal crusade on Peter, but Sirius had to man up and do what he had promised to do when the adorable baby boy was first shown to him.
One of the few good memories that the Dementors couldn't touch, Sirius remembered the squirmy little ball of fat and giggles that had immediately seized locks of his long black hair and tugged as hard as the little boy could, causing a bark of laughter to erupt from his new godfather, and endearing the baby to Sirius forever. The little tyke had been a prankster from the start, always getting into mischief, much to the chagrin of his parents, and only slightly encouraged by Sirius…
He had never thought he would hear the end of it when he gave the one-year-old a toy broomstick for his first birthday, but oh how Harry had loved that thing, zooming around two or three feet off the ground at speeds that made Lily and James' heads spin. What a natural on a broom. So many wonderful days after Harry was born, all ruined by an act of betrayal at the lowest level, by one that ought to have been their friend.
The thought of the rat and the damage he had caused to Harry, well beyond what had befallen Sirius cemented his nerve. He would go to Dumbledore, and beg to be heard out, plead his case of innocence and demand to be allow to help find his godson, it was the best that he could do, and he prayed that the old Headmaster would find some of the truth to his words, instead of just handing him back to the Ministry.
Turning toward Scotland again, Sirius set off at a faster pace, knowing that time was of the essence now, if he was to help find Harry before whatever horrible madness occurred that tore the boy's already sundered life apart even further.
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Nobu'tan was pleasantly surprised to find that the majority of the staff and students at Durmstrang spoke English, albeit with difficulty, but that only emboldened him further to learn the various languages that were spoken by the different groups of north-eastern European wizards that attended the school.
Most prevalent were Russian speakers, with smatterings of smaller countries' local languages mixed within. The largest of these sub groups had to be Bulgarian, and so Nobu'tan decided to mark those two as the languages of choice for him to learn, and tailored his charms appropriately. The reaction of the student body to his presence on the other hand was diverse and altogether interesting. There were many of them that clearly had never seen a British citizen before, and were intrigued, while a few more actually realized who had entered their school, and were star struck at the famous Harry Potter wandering their halls.
Both of these groups Nobu'tan ignored, as they were beneath him, and focused on those portions of classes that he had not been able to take at Hogwarts, namely the opposite side of their pathetic Defense against the Dark Arts class. Naturally, the instructors at Durmstrang didn't actually teach their pupils to cast and use the darker aspect of magic, but did teach them about it without sugarcoating anything, or glazing over it with a focus on countercharms and shields, calling it a weak and pathetic excuse if there ever was one.
So there was at least one advantage to attending the northern school then, although some of the staff remained wholly ignorant of the situation with Nobu'tan. They thought incorrectly that he was a typical student, and attempted to enforce the school uniform of heavy furs and bright reds upon him, which naturally Nobu'tan did not own. Not that he was opposed to the robes, which would have been the most like his old clothing back in Azeroth, but that would have required submitting to their authority.
Nobu'tan served no one except his master Gul'dan, and only indirectly through him the Legion, none others had any claim over him, and a display of his raw power was usually enough to counter any arguments these thick accented witches and wizards had against his proclamation.
Of course, the theatrics were twofold in purpose. First, in dissuading the Professor at Durmstrang from thinking that they had any ounce of control or authority over the warlock, and second to demonstrate his superior powers to the other students, who in time would start to approach him with the desire to learn the ways of Fel magic.
The lure of power was inevitable, and for the first few weeks there was nothing else that he did, aside from simply infusing the magic of the school with his own aura, and work on fine turning his side projects: enchanting, inscription and alchemy.
Granted, he was sure that inevitable there'd be some sort of conflict within the first month between him and another student, as he could sense some of the resentment that was directed at him, for walking about in his black warlock robes rather than being forced to conform to their school rules, among other things that were quite obviously different.
So it came as no surprise that eventually one of the oldest, and largest, male Russian students decided to take a stand against the seemingly runty English boy that had entered his domain and asserted some measure of authority.
Nobu'tan's Russian was still rather shaky, and he only applied the charms while in classes to understand the Professors, so he wasn't completely sure what the older boy was shouting at him, but it clearly was a challenge of sorts as the boy had his wand in his hand, sparks flying from the end of it.
Sighing more to himself than anyone else, Nobu'tan raised his hands in a combative gesture, before smirking at the confusion on his opponents face. Said confusion melted into fear as the flames of Fel fire started to leap from Nobu'tan skin at him in waves, hastily batted aside by a raised shield charm. It was a spell that these wizards relied far too much on, and Nobu'tan frowned in annoyance as his fire was absorbed or deflected.
The other students scattered to not be hit by stray magic, even as the Russian boy attempted to retaliate, throwing a small barrage of spells at Nobu'tan from his wand, but the warlock was not concerned. A barrier of ice and frost leapt into being around him, the magical shield withstanding the bombardment, and allowing Nobu'tan the time needed to outmaneuver and counterattack the older boy, tactics switching from the Fel to spells of pure magic, summoning blasts of pure Arcane to unsettle his charms and spells layered protectively around him, before a precision strike of darkness punched through the weakened magic and struck the boy weakly in the chest, still knocking him back and opening him up for further attack.
But rather than rely solely on magic, Nobu'tan rushed the boy, getting inside his range of fist or spell in a flash, with a cruel-looking dagger pressed threateningly against the Russian's throbbing neck, the energy of the Legion leaking off of Nobu'tan as he breathed heavily, "You are beaten," he declared, even as the terrified boy held perfectly still, fear of losing his life palpable to everyone present.
"I am no pathetic schoolboy, but a fully realized warlock, and will be treated with the respect that I have earned in fire and magic, even by you…" Nobu'tan hissed in English, knowing full well that this one understood perfectly, even if he was more comfortable speaking his own language. "Am I understood?"
The boy nodded hastily, and Nobu'tan withdrew the dagger from his throat, leaping back a pace to prevent any sort of surprise attack to continue their conflict.
But it seemed the precaution was unnecessary, as the Russian wizard was so shocked and frightened by Nobu'tan's quick reflexes that he staggered back, clutching his throat where the dagger had left a small prick that was welling up a drop of blood. Nobu'tan couldn't understand the rapid flow of words from the boy's mouth, but he could guess at the content being something about him and being insane, a typical response to being bested in such a manner.
Rather than remain the object of everyone's abject terror, as much as that was appropriate, Nobu'tan simply left, exiting one of the few common areas for the students and returning up to his personal tower room. One of the points that the boy had been making was why, even as one of their own celebrities that attended the school lived with the other boys in the massive common room, that the famous Harry Potter got his own room to himself, which was naturally absurd for him to complain about; if he was even remotely important, than he too would have receive the same treatment.
There was another very important reason that he was given such a privilege as well, which sat in the open as Nobu'tan entered and glanced at the large desk he was provided with. The Grimoire of Merlin lay there, innocently glittering with its own light, half a dozen pages of translation copied by Nobu'tan's own hand next to it.
Naturally, the Grimoire spoke in great detail about the powerful Guardian, and some of his greatest accomplishments, as well as the might of the mystical place of Avalon, and the witch Morgan that was supposedly trapped between there and this world. Currently in his reading of the tome, Nobu'tan was getting close to pinpointing a possible location for the entrance of such a realm, but he was hesitant to even attempt to cross the might of a guardian, just in case this Merlin was anything close to the power of Medivh, whom even Gul'dan was not willing to cross.
Still, it seemed that according to all wizarding folklore, indeed the location was in what was now called Glastonbury, on the small isle of land in the marshes, but to access the sacred realm of magic, there was a particular ritual that mortals had to undergo to enter, which the ancients oftentimes performed to travel to and from the protected place and the world of mortals.
The ritual was coming to him, page by page as he deciphered the tome, but it was intricate, and would require the assistance of the entire Order of the Black Harvest to accomplish, wielding both wizards magic and a touch of the Fel to overwhelm some of the protections and tests that were mentioned guarding the land from any invaders.
His progress had been sent in a letter to Lucius, letting him know of the massive leap forward that they had made so quickly, before the young warlock distracted himself with several potions that he was working on, frustratingly more simple that he felt he was capable of, but he lacked the instruction on what specific combinations would produce better potions based on the Azerothian methods, which was decidedly irritating, and emphasized how much his learning was stunted until he returned to the land of his Master.
Even as he attempted to concentrate on the fumbling potions before him, Nobu'tan found himself gazing out the window across the dark snow covered land, wishing for the lush green of Azeroth and the warm fire of Gul'dan tent, where things felt safe and made sense. He felt a twinge of fear that he would be too late to return to the old orc's side, and he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he was already gone. The words he had heard back in the Department of Mysteries rang in his mind, almost taunting him with the same ideas.
Quashing the thought angrily, Nobu'tan steeled himself. There was much he would do, to advent the Legion if he had to, in vengeance if his master had fallen. He was heir of the most powerful warlock in the known worlds, and he would triumph where Gul'dan failed if the old orc had died. And if not, together they would bring darkness and destruction to many worlds, just as they had planned to from the beginning.
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Alastor had not been idle since being forcefully dismissed from the grounds of Malfoy Manor, carefully and quickly investigating every action that was available about Harry Potter and the Malfoys since the boy reappeared on the scene of the Wizarding World on his eleventh birthday, greatly aided in this endeavor by Albus. Technically he would be a private investigator at this point, as while he was loosely affiliated with the Ministry, his retirement dictated that there was only so much official business that he could handle, and he was used up quite a bit of his leeway already, so he was more or less on his own at the present moment.
Naturally, he started with Godric's Hollow, where the boy had apparently fallen out of the sky into the old room that he had once lived in as a toddler. The layers of dust had grown, but it was clear where things had been shifted by a hand or foot. With his now limited abilities in the arts of the Arcane, Albus having finally gotten around to teaching Alastor some of the fundamentals, the grizzled old Auror was able to see some things that went otherwise overlooked when the Headmaster first investigated this place.
Even now, two years after the event, the location was still saturated with a lingering haze of both arcane and another, far more vile magic, undetectable except to those who had already felt them before, radiating down from the bedroom where the boy had appeared from. Whatever had brought him to this place had been a titanic amount of magic, both in scope of power and in creative art of use. Moody would wager quite a bit that there were far more powerful Arcane users from the place that the boy came from than he himself was, but the primary question that the Auror had was why did the boy get sent back here, not necessarily how.
From the boy's apparent obsession with portals, it was clear that he was more than eager to return from where he was sent from, while ruled out, in the Auror's mind, that either his coming here was accidental, or a punishment that he was opposed to. Even still, that was only part of the madness that he discovered. In questioning Albus regarding the house, the Headmaster produced the small white stone, carved with an unfamiliar rune atop it, which to Alastor's keen senses, radiated with the same faint magic that had supposedly brought the boy here.
"This is the key," he said, lifting the stone from Albus' hand, "This is how Potter was sent back here from wherever he was. Understanding this rune will help us in our efforts to make out their power, and how we can fight him…"
"From what best I can guess," Albus replied, "It simply means 'home,' or 'hearth,' and I somehow doubt that there is much that can be gleaned from that…"
"Not much? Albus, that is extremely important!" Alastor said, wanting to reach over and shake the old man by the shoulders. "Not only is that such a basic form of magic, which we do not possess naturally but still, it sets a fantastic baseline of what might be considered normal for the boy…"
Stumbling to his feet in excitement, Alastor started to pace the room, his false leg stomping with every other step. Again and again he turned the little stone over in his hand, both his enchanted eye and the real one, now attuned to seeing the magic of the Arcane, focused intently on it, "Yes, I can see how ridiculously simple the enchantments are here. Albus, this is a completely different level of magic than we are accustomed to…"
He paused, before turning to look in the blue eyes of his mentor and friend, "Albus… you are being far too reckless with this boy…" he said flatly, even as he contemplated what the Headmaster had planned in his attempts to rein in the free spirit of Potter from what he had been told. "You fool, thinking that you had an ounce of control the moment that the boy learned to speak English…"
At least the old man had the decency to bow his head in acknowledgement of his faults. "I know. A heavy hand I thought was required, but not in the sense of retraining him… it's too late for that now, and we need to find where he has hidden himself."
"The Malfoys know, I could tell from that proud peacock's smirk as we left, but there's no way of making them talk. I wouldn't doubt that Potter's taught them some of his perverse magic as well…" Alastor quipped, still stung by the Pureblood and his superiority complex.
"We have to wait for one of those under his influence to make the attempt to contact him." Albus said simply, "I fear that even away from our sight, he is plotting something unknown and sinister… I can sense it…"
Alastor saw the man unconsciously take up the handle of his wand as he said this, and the old Auror mentally make a note of the movement. He had always wondered where Albus had gotten this wand, as it was most assuredly not the man's original, but the story had never been shared with him specifically, and it was obvious that it was a very personal matter, so Alastor had the propriety to not intrude on his friend's business.
"So we wait, not knowing what the boy could possibly be up to, or what chaos he could be wreaking with his powers…" Alastor said sarcastically.
"Of course not, but all available course of action are safeguarded by the Ministry, and without Amelia's direct support and assistance we can do very little…" Albus started, but an owl flew in at that time, depositing a letter on the Headmaster's desk before turning a tight circle and departing the way it came.
Albus scooped up the parchment quickly, glancing over the addressee before opening it quickly. "Anything I need to know of, Albus," Alastor stated, watching the open window and the man before him.
"Nothing of immediate concern, but we may have some new members of the Order of the Phoenix from the Auror department, at least one you may know… Nymphadora Tonks…" Albus replied, glancing up momentarily from the letter.
Alastor smiled at that, "She's got a good head on her shoulders, a bit clumsy, but a fine duelist, and a metamorphmagus to boot. Very good qualities, I was pleased to have her as my last trainee before retiring. But that doesn't change the situation Albus, if I need to speak to Amelia again, pull the last bit of my clout to enact the trace on the boy's wand or something, just say the word…"
"I doubt Nobu'tan has much need of his wand these days…" Albus said, glancing at his shelves of silver instruments…
"Ah," Alastor said, looking back and forth between the old Headmaster and the wall of assorted tracking items, "You already bypassed the need for the Ministry to track the boy's wand…"
"You know me too well Alastor…" Albus said, smirking momentarily.
"So what means are you speaking of, then?" Alastor asked, and the Hogwarts Headmaster seemed to settle into his seat before speaking.
"It's more of a long-term game, if we are unable to locate him this year, but you know that the Ministry is trying to put pressure on me to allow the Triwizard Tournament to return next year…" he started.
"And you want to enter the boy's name, thinking that the Goblet of Fire will produce him over any other student… that's risky Albus, and possibly might not work, if his form of magical power is vastly different from what the Goblet measures…" Alastor interrupted.
"Yes, if we put him in under Hogwarts…" Albus replied, "But if a fourth school was entered, somehow…"
Alastor thought hard, "It would be possible, but dangerous… I mean you've seen my memories of what the boy is capable of, put him in the tournament and who knows what he might do as revenge…"
"It's worth the risk to distract him from whatever plans he has and make absolutely certain that we know where he is…" the Headmaster said with finality, "besides, I've already sent the approval form to the Ministry, and will be setting details with the other two schools participating in the coming months…"
"I still don't like it Albus, there is much that could go wrong…" Moody replied, his mind spinning with the wild conjurations that the boy could threaten the school with.
"Then feel free to make mention of these concerns to the Ministry, especially Amelia, who actually still listens to you, and increase security as high as you'd like. You yourself are already set as Defense Against the Dark Art's professor that year, so you will be on hand during the tournament…"
"I still haven't agreed to that," Alastor said bluntly.
"But you will…" Albus countered, and the Auror had to give the old man credit, he was on a roll, completely poised and precise with his flow of thought.
"What are you plans for that year then…" Alastor said, and Albus started into another long discussion detailing their preparations that they needed to make immediately for the Tournament.
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Lucius was not pleased with the maddening arrangement that placed Nobu'tan so far from them, secreted away doing whatever he pleased in Durmstrang. It had been much easier to contain and guide the boy while he was in the Manor, not that he dared to think he could control the far more powerful warlock, but it was a simpler job directing him from brash courses of action and making poor decisions that were, admittedly, more efficient toward furthering the Order's collective goals.
There were times for that level of brutal simplicity, but when one was trying to outmaneuver the likes of Albus Dumbledore or Alastor Moody, tact and subtlety were more important than haste in one's goals. At least Lucius himself was being kept appraised of the entirety of the boy's doings with regard to his research into the problems with locating the third of their artifacts. They had mutually decided that keeping the two they had together was risky, so while Nobu'tan had taken the Grimoire of Merlin to study, the Diadem of Ravenclaw remained in the secret vaults under Malfoy Manor, safely behind walls of dangerous and powerful enchantments.
But still, managing the storm of letters that the boy was trying to send off to the entire Order, instructing them of all his plots and plans for each of them individually was too great a risk, and Lucius took great effort to space out when who among their secret group was informed at a time, just in case those watching the Manor got wind of how many exactly were involved in this plot, and Lucius was well aware that it was indeed the case. The eyes of their enemies were ever watchful.
But to be fair, the space from the other warlock gave Lucius some important time to be able to take some control of the Order to himself, as even though his son was higher in ranking within the Black Harvest, the other adults of the group still looked to Lucius for their true orders, and he was more than willing to take the reins as needed, especially as his son was at Hogwarts, and managing the part of the Order that were still underage.
So, in light of the clear observation that they were all under from the Ministry, and through them Dumbledore, Lucius was advising patience and a gradual taking of effect with Nobu'tan's instructions, slow scouting of the area in question, as to not tip their hand to the Order of the Phoenix, which he would not have put past the old Headmaster to have reestablished just to monitor them and take back his precious Boy-Who-Lived.
Meanwhile, Lucius himself pushed each and every member of the adult warlocks to their training, and made sure that each of them mastered a third demonic summoning, bringing in a harem of Succubi into their world, much to the delight of some of the more lewd or lonely of their members, but Lucius himself found the seductress bonded to him rather lackluster in her attempts to seduce him, which ended quickly, the temptress probably realizing that he was of a stronger caliber than most of the others, and a happily married man. Still, their combat prowess and usefulness was not to be ignored, and it was an important stepping stone in chasing after the path of power being carved out by their leader.
All these thoughts were still on his mind, then, when Lucius attended the next meeting of the Hogwarts board of Governors, only to be surprised when the Headmaster himself was in attendance. While not unwelcome, it was highly unusual for Dumbledore to distract himself from his many positions to actually sit in the meetings unless there was some vote of importance that he wished to weigh in on. Currently there was no such vote scheduled, to Lucius' knowledge, and as head of the board he ought to know out of anyone.
"Headmaster, what a pleasant surprise," Lucius said falsely, the small grin on his face dying the moment Dumbledore's steeled eyes met his. This was to be some sort of battle then, was it? So be it, if the old man wanted to engage Lucius in this arena as well, then the Pureblood lord would bring what power he had to bear here as well.
"I wish the same could be said from me, Lucius…" the aged Headmaster responded, "but I am greatly concerned at the lack of security that you've have show in your own home, and wonder if you are still fit to lead the board that monitors the school that all our children attend, when Harry Potter was kidnapped right out of your own Manor…"
"You go too far, Dumbledore," Lucius said, holding out a hand and allowing a measure of offense settle into his voice, "I was neither in my home to prevent it, nor aware of Mr. Potter's presence in the first place. I and my family were away on holiday, and while I knew the boy had access to our home, having given it to him myself, I did not think that he would exercise it while we were away. He had always shown himself to be trustworthy and very respectful, when it was given to him in return…" Lucius added, barbing his words and thrusting them back at Dumbledore with a flourish. "Surely you've found him to be the same, as his Headmaster…"
The old man didn't even flinch at the barbs, but pressed on his attack regardless, "I have, which is why I now fear for his safety, being out somewhere we do not know. Surely you have some indication or clue that was left behind that those who care about Harry could use to find him…"
Lucius wanted to laugh aloud, but that was unacceptable given the presumed thought regarding Nobu'tan's vanishing from British soil. "If I had, I would have given it to the Ministry already, Dumbledore, not to a school teacher, no matter how revered and respected he may be."
"Ah well, just an old man's hope then I presume…" Dumbledore said, batting off the insult like it was nothing, before withdrawing some parchment from a pocket of his robes, "however I do have one important piece of information regarding Hogwarts before I take my leave, the Ministry and I have come to an agreement regarding the reinstatement of the Triwizard Tournament, how it will operate now and the increases in safety regarding those involved."
Lucius was a little more than surprised at this new, along with the rest of the Board. Dumbledore had vehemently denied all allowances for the Tournament, despite it being one of the oldest school traditions, and for the old man to suddenly change his mind was unprecedented. Unfortunately, it was also a sound tactic, as the others of the board were too excited coming up with how the Tournament would be run for Lucius to confirm the Headmaster's reasons for the change of heart on the subject. And before Lucius could regain order to the board, Dumbledore had already slipped out the door like the crafty eel that he was, no one even batting an eye as he made the excuse of much work to be done as he departed.
It took another twenty minutes afterward to regain control of the flow of the meeting, and by then Lucius was barely constraining the urge to call upon his new powers to frighten these fools back into line. That Dumbledore could destabilize his power here with only a few words and not even a full explanation was enough for the Pureblood Lord to greatly distrust what the old man as up to, and desire greatly to know his motivations.
Unfortunately their one spy in the ranks of the school had been Severus, and while the Dark Lord had empirically trusted the man, Nobu'tan wanted nothing to do with Snape. Lucius could only guess that it was due to how incredibly close that the man had to be to Dumbledore, on principle, and hoped to one day including their old friend into the ranks of the Black Harvest, but time would tell for that. Until then, they were quite in the dark regarding Dumbledore, and the only positive was that the old man was equally ignorant of their plots.
Giving up on the Board for the time being, as they gravitated time and again to the Tournament throughout their discussion regarding the money that flowed through the school, Lucius decided to call the meeting to a close far sooner than he normally did, and departed the Ministry room set aside for them in the Department of Magical Education with a frustrated frown on his face.
These fools, the lot of them, were so taken in by the Headmaster that it didn't matter what the old man wanted them to believed, they would accept it as good and necessary without a second thought. If the Headmaster was so inclined to, he had all the power needed to simply take control of their government and run all of Britain himself, and the people would just let him. The very thought sickened and frightened Lucius to no end.
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Albus departed the Ministry with all the haste that was dignified to him at his age. Lucius was sure to be most displeased at him for interrupting and derailing his entire meeting, but Albus had hoped to prove to himself whether Lucius was indeed in cahoots with Nobu'tan, and the man's denial of any knowledge of the boy's location all but proclaimed it. Alas for Lucius, Albus feared for the man and his family, and even his old allies, for what they may be consigning themselves to with allying with the wild and unpredictable Nobu'tan.
But, even as he reached the apparation point and prepared to return to Hogwarts, Albus realized that that was an unfair simplification of the boy's behavior. He had been quite cunning throughout his meetings with Albus, and even if the Headmaster didn't approve of the boy's attitude or demeanor when it came to speaking plainly and divulging his secrets regarding his powers and where he had been, there had always been a degree of respect and acknowledgement that Albus was superior to him in the ways of magic. Even for the short time that they crossed spells, it was obvious that Nobu'tan was hesitant to attempt to take on Albus directly, which may have been a touch of wisdom from the young boy.
Yes, he had been extremely careful in his maneuvering to escape Hogwarts, but now that he was free, Albus was afraid at what the lack of control or limits might do with the boy so incredibly powerful. Was he even now somewhere in the muggle world, causing destruction or damage on such a small scale that the Ministry couldn't pick it up? And if so, how long before that escalated?
Albus had witnessed some of the powers that the boy possessed in person and even more through the memories of Alastor as he went to Malfoy Manor to search for him. It was frightening how calmly and yet overwhelmingly angry the boy could be, laughing much akin to Voldemort one moment before throwing orbs of fire at his enemy like an enraged Veela the next. While he doubted that the boy's sanity had ever been damaged, there was indeed something unwholesome about his psyche, and Albus hoped that, once they found and brought Nobu'tan back to the castle, that through some powerful therapy, unfortunately aided by magic, they would be able to correct the gross oversights into other people's safety that plagued the boy.
Albus never wanted things to progress this far, but Amelia's hands were tied by the laws of their country. Nobu'tan had proven himself to be a danger to those around him, and it was his age alone that spared him Azkaban, but that was also dwindling quickly. Fourteen was the youngest that one could lawfully be imprisoned in that nightmare-on-earth, and the boy was scantly a year left from that point. Albus continually thanked the small mercies that allowed them this brief window of opportunity to make sure that that was not required.
The hard part was actually going to be recapturing the boy, as he had thrown aside a group of armed Ministry workers without so much as batting an eye, aided by his diabolic minions. Alastor had several plans, but each had their own problems to work out, and situational circumstances that were nearly impossible to factor in until things were already in motion.
Albus could hope that the boy would go peacefully once their traps to bring him back began, but he severally doubted that it would go that easily. That was why he had made the decisions for Defense Professor for both this current year and the next already. Remus Lupin, while being a family friend of the Potters for years, would as a werewolf was physically strong enough to safely render Nobu'tan unable to act without too much threat of injury, while Alastor himself was a powerful caster, now only made stronger by learning the power of the Arcane.
These two would potentially be Albus' aces in the hole to be able to stop Nobu'tan from leveling the castle when he realized what they had planned to draw him out of hiding. But it would still be highly useful to actually know where the boy was, so that anything insidious that he attempted could be thwarted in the meantime.
What they needed was someone that could move about unseen and actually scout about the places that were eventually revealed by the movements of Nobu'tan's allies, but the problem was that the majority of the Order was either too well known or had jobs and lives that made full time spying impossible.
Just then, as Albus arrived outside his office in the castle, he came upon a strange sight. A large black dog was sitting there, almost waiting for him to return, its tail perfectly still but tongue lolling, as though tired after a long journey. As Albus approached, the gargoyle acknowledge him and leapt aside without a word, and the dog immediately rose and stepped onto the moving staircase before the Headmaster, taking the trip up to the wooden door without so much as a noise.
Bemused, and wondering what was going on, as he sensed no malicious intent through the Arcane, although the dog seemed extremely familiar to him, Albus allowed the dog entry to his office, closing the door behind him, "Well my small friend, what is it that I can do for you," he asked as he turned back to face the dog, but it was already gone, replaced by a very thin and shivering man that Albus recognized all too well, despite the aftereffects of living on Azkaban.
"Hello Albus…" Sirius Black said, as calmly as he could manage at the time. For his part, Albus did not react much, merely blinked in mild surprise. He, like many, thought that Sirius would come to the castle in the supposed pursuit of his godson, but for Sirius to approach Albus so openly led to many questions.
"Hello Sirius," he replied, moving around the man carefully and settling himself at his desk. There was nothing for him to fear from this man, as it was clear that Sirius had no wand, and his Animagus form was as weak and tired as his normal form. "I suppose that this isn't a social call," Albus continued, injecting a small smile at his levity.
Evidently Azkaban hadn't sapped all the humor from the old prankster, as even Sirius managed a weak smile, "No, I suppose it isn't, but I swear that I'm not here for what people think I am."
"You mean to kill Harry?" Albus said, cutting straight to the core of his questions, "I supposed that the moment you revealed yourself to me, but the question stands, why then are you here? Surely you heard that Harry was missing."
The pained look that crossed the convict's face proved that there was indeed far more going on that was presented to the Wizengamot when Sirius was placed in Azkaban without a trial. "I heard, and I want to help save him… I swear that I did not betray the Potters, although I may as well have killed them with my rash thoughts and actions… but I need your help to do what is right and best for everyone."
Albus sat still, listening as Sirius explained himself, from the very beginning of when the Potters went into hiding, to Pettigrew being chosen as the least likely to bear the Secret, and in turn betraying the Potters, blaming Sirius and fleeing the scene via his animagus form of a common rat. It would seem ridicules to any hearer, expect that Albus could see through both magic and his own eyes that Sirius was passionately telling the truth. You didn't teach someone for seven years without learning a bit about them, and Sirius had spent enough time in Albus office as a child that the Headmaster had gotten to know the scion of the House of Black quite well.
When Sirius had finished, he slowly sat in a chair nearest to Fawkes, who crooned softly and fluttered down to rest on the convict's leg. "I believe you Sirius, and to be honest your appearance is probably the most useful thing that had occurred since Harry vanished." Albus said. For Sirius' sake, he would call Nobu'tan by his official birth name, until the man was strong enough to understand the full truth of what had happened. "Firstly, we need to get the proof needed to see you acquitted from Azkaban and the Kiss. From your story, you strongly feel that Pettigrew is here, in the castle, even as we speak?"
"He's here, with the Weasley's youngest son, as his pet rat…" Sirius confirmed, looking far more relaxed with Fawkes singing softly to him, and if the phoenix found Sirius' presence tolerable enough to be close to, then it all but confirmed it for Albus that the man had been speaking the truth.
"Then I will do what I can to reveal Pettigrew, and make sure that he is sent on his way to the Ministry to answer for his crimes, and the crimes placed upon you," Albus said, "but for the time being, you need rest. I will summon a House Elf with clean robes and food, and you are welcome to sleep in the guest room, here in the Headmaster's tower."
Sirius nodded sleepily, already exhausted from too little food and too much travel. Albus had to partially assist him out of the chair and toward the guest room, causally banishing some of the grim and smell from the man, before settling him in a sitting position on the edge of the bed. There was much work to be done now, and a new ally that had to be nursed to health. Albus would have to do most of the work on his own, only entrusting Madam Pomfrey once Sirius was cleared.
As the convict slept, Albus turned his mind toward Gryffindor Tower, contemplating how best to unmask the hiding danger within the castle. Any misstep could alert Peter to his danger prematurely, and while Albus was sure there was much that he could get away with, the man probably having grown quite comfortable in his position, the news of Sirius' escape likely would have made him far more alert once more, and any changes in character would be too much a tipoff for the man. There would need to be careful planning to pull off such a thing quickly, and Albus would need a reason to be close to Ronald Weasley, so Albus set to work drafting a quick list of ideas in his mind.
