Chapter 20 : Five minutes
The cusp of summer floods Diagon Alley with warmth, light and bustling business that does not reach its obscurer cousin. Most customers who can confidently follow the narrow, winding cobblestone road leading deep into the seedier parts of the shopping district thrive in cold nights. This time of the year, the dusty shop of Borgin and Burkes can - on a good day - thus count on two or three customers visiting before dusk falls at most. Never one to waste time on trivial tasks such as loitering in the front of the shop or cleaning the displays when it serves as a perfect excuse to spend the hours drinking from early morning till afternoon, Borgin is not present to witness a famous Auror stepping out of the old vanishing cabinet.
Said Auror looks left and right a tad nervously, muttering under his breath while removing a pair of glasses and stuffing a wand away. ''What a blast from the past,'' he grins with a hint of irony, studying the Hand of Glory and a choker inlaid with gleaming opals that had cursed Katie Bell once upon a time. ''The trouble those caused me…''
On the way out, the tall man halts only once more, checking his own reflection in the smudged glass panels set in the door. ''Almost as old as when I first met him…'' he muses, tracing his own cheeks and stroking long tresses of wavy black hair in fascination. Swinging the strap of what looks suspiciously like a school bag over his shoulder, Sirius Black steps into Knockturn Alley with a swagger that is only a tad exaggerated.
Wearing Sirius' face allows Harry to see the shabby street in a new light. He's been here often in recent years, hidden under the invisibility cloak to investigate, tailing swarms of patrons of the illicit businesses. Even during daytime, eyes are usually everywhere, and shopkeepers don't bother hiding their wares when the ones passing by are potential customers. Now, Madam M. Volans of Cobb & Webb's hastily swaps out the cage of venomous spiders for a goldfish tank as Harry walks past her window and Mr Scarr is quick to remove the advertising board with less-than-savoury tattoo designs of runic spells.
It's not meant to be subtle – everyone knows what Knockturn sells – but fast enough that should the one they believe to be Sirius Black actually walk into their shops, he has no grounds to arrest them. Memories and truth serums alone don't hold up in court. Aurors must provide watertight evidence, only available when actually confiscating whichever dark item they dredge up. It's one of the reasons this place still exists. The other being the Ministry workers who refuse to change laws they profit from, be it because they themselves are secretly dark wizards – such as Lucius Malfoy – or because they receive gold and favours from these businesses in some form or another. Harry has had to suffer many a rant from Sirius about the situation at dinner in the past few years to know how frustrated the Aurors are at their hands being tied.
Personally, he is glad for it. With Harry's conviction of saving everything on this planet with a drop of magic, he couldn't bear having to pretend to be happy about all these dark items being systematically destroyed. Some are priceless, unique. Places like The Coffin house and Ye Olde Curiosity Shop are treasure troves of enchanted relics that need to be protected at any cost.
Thinking of priceless artefacts, Harry almost pats his pockets to feel for the Stone, but of course they are empty. Bringing the Philosopher's Stone out of Hogwarts would be stupid. Harry already allowed himself one stupid move in nicking that crown, that'll have to be today's limit of risky decisions.
No, the Stone is sitting safely in a container Harry prepared for it and placed in Quirrell's office under a slew of protective charms to fulfil his promise. It had been his only stop between the Forbidden Corridor and the hallway on the second floor where the still functional Vanishing cabinet was being displayed. The corridors of Hogwarts had been eerily empty as he'd wandered around, teachers and Aurors all seeming to have given up on their last-ditch attempt of searching the castle for Slytherin's monster. Even many of the portraits went into hiding after this morning's dreadful events.
Apart from the rapid changes in offered wares, Knockturn alley is remarkably empty too. Sure, a sunny day in June is never going to attract the usual crowd, but even the few figures Harry noticed lurking in the shadows upon exiting Borgin and Burkes have scurried away. Eyes are surely still following his every move, but far less obviously staring. He silently congratulates himself on this fantastic disguise, which allows him to walk in and out of pretty much every corner of the wizarding world without having to pull his wand. There aren't that many Aurors in Britain, and the pickpockets and other troublemakers know not to mess with law enforcement even when the Auror in question is out of uniform.
Harry had debated on whether to complete the ensemble by copying Sirius' spare uniform over the Easter holidays. He'd had the opportunity when sneaking into Sirius' bedroom anyways to pick some hairs out of the man's favourite brush, but wearing Auror robes would risk having to actually jump into action when running into trouble on the way, to avoid damaging his godfather's career. Harry can't see that fictional scenario ending well without being able to cast spells.
A shame that Felix Felicis is too complicated a potion to brew by anyone but a skilled potion master. It would have been more useful than Polyjuice and the handful of other flasks he packed. Being unable to use any magic feels as if he is stripped naked, far too vulnerable. Thankfully, it is only for a short while. Like in Hogwarts, the Trace is deactivated on certain levels of the Ministry where minors might need to perform magic without getting pesky warnings. He and his friends would not have gotten very far in the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year if they would have been bombarded by those annoying automatically-sent-out Ministry letters of the Improper Use of Magic Office each time they'd cast so much as a Lumos.
Wouldn't that have been better? Had you been stopped at the start, the other Sirius would not have-
Growling under his breath, Harry puts a forceful stop to those milling thoughts. There is no use for would-have-beens for events that had happened in a world now closed off to him. His Sirius, the one whose face Harry has borrowed, is alive and well.
It will stay that way. Regardless of whether his godfathers will accept all of Harry once he comes clean or pick up arms against Voldemort again, he will ensure both Severus and Sirius receive the life denied to their other selves. Ensure they'll grow old together. It is the least he owes them after exploiting their generosity for so long.
Picking up his pace as that determination translates into confident strides, Harry finds his way through Diagon and towards the public floo in the Leaky Cauldron.
As Sirius obviously can't be seen drinking at work, Harry uses the minute in the pub itself to take another sip of his Polyjuice, just in case. He's learned from a disguised Barty Crouch that a small amount of Polyjuice is just as effective as a whole mug of it, as fake-Moody had only taken a swig out of his hip flask after each hour. It means Harry can spread when he drinks the stuff to stretch the effects for quite a while. As long as he can duck into quiet corners to take a gulp of Polyjuice every now and then when no-one is watching who could question 'Sirius' about it, Harry has a comfortable timeframe of at least four hours, judging by the size of the bottle he and Hermione have brewed.
Hermione… How is she faring now, still stuck with Lockhart? Harry hoped to reach the Stone quicker than he did and prays that he won't need hours for this Ministry break-in either, as his friend does not deserve to wait in such a precarious place any longer than necessary. Sure, Hermione is utterly safe with Hera as a guardian, but he can't get rid of this nagging voice in the back of his mind until they're united again. She is very much his responsibility, this child Harry has roped into aiding his quests.
Getting on with it so he can return to Hermione quicker, Harry drops a sickle on the designated plate in the Leakdy Cauldron before taking a pinch of floo powder, then lets the emerald flames whisk him away to the Atrium. It's quite the relief to use this way of entering the Ministry. The extra security measures for employees that had been installed under Voldemort's rule, specifically including the coin-operated toilets under Whitehall that served to deter intruders who did not have the right coin, had unfortunately outlasted the Dark Lord. Those stupid toilets had remained until the Ministry had fallen years later.
Although it surely had not been Voldemort's personal idea, Harry will ensure no-one in the man's service dares put similar measures in place in the future.
His first action when able to freely cast magic again, is to transfigure his school bag into a briefcase similar enough to the standard one Ministry employees are mandated to bring to work. He'd have done it at Hogwarts, but transfiguration isn't his strongest suit, and the spell wearing off in the middle of Diagon alley without being able to renew it would have been too suspicious.
Crossing a wonderfully whole and security-free Atrium without a hitch, Harry almost thinks this won't take more than a couple of minutes. That positive attitude remains until the lift doors open and he comes face to face with Kingsley. Which would have been fine, had Kingsley simply nodded and exited to go on his merry way. Instead, the man's face brightens.
''Sirius, wonderful, I thought I would have to scour the whole floor to find you. Williamson mentioned…'' The Auror throws a funny look at Harry, then. ''Why did you change? Weren't you only sent up to swiftly deal with the squabble in administration?''
Damn, so his godfather is working despite it being a Sunday. He'd banked on the fact that Sirius generally avoided working weekend shifts when possible, but the man's go-to excuse had always been family time. That doesn't fly anymore with Harry attending Hogwarts. This makes matters far more complicated: his cover will be blown the instant both Siriuses cross paths…
Hurriedly stepping into the lift, both to avoid the real Sirius showing up who is apparently wandering this very floor, and as it would seem odd not to, Harry forces himself to relax and grin. ''You know how they get in administration, Kingsley. Course, it's management's fault that their pay is so bad that half have illegal side businesses, but that doesn't change the fact that none of that lot are fond of Auror visits. Even when it's to break up pointless fights they started. Figured it'd be easier to look like I'm off the clock and helping of my own volition before the whole Auror Department gets wind of it.''
''Scrimgeour won't like that.''
The twinkle in the other's eyes gives Harry enough confidence to bark out a laugh. ''I'd be surprised if good old Rufus likes Christmas cheer or pet Kneazles by this point. Not going to try to make a man happy who finds daily excuses to be grim.''
It is oddly comfortable to slip into this role, to make jabs at other departments and bosses. Harry had been a recruit for almost three years, only dropping out of Auror training once the full scope of consequences Muggles being made aware of magic had truly hit their daily lives. How much danger they posed, a danger that could not be fought against within the restrictions of the law. He'd figured it best to follow in Dumbledore footsteps by forming an unofficial organisation to effectively stick together while combatting this new threat.
Staying in the Ministry hadn't been made attractive by how fast people had started blaming Harry personally for the whole mess either, other Auror recruits and older colleagues accusing him with eyes and words wherever Harry went. He'd left the Ministry behind long before it had been ravaged by Muggles.
''You might not have a choice. Scrimgeour sent me up because he needed to 'urgently speak to you'.''
''And couldn't be bothered sending a memo?''
''You know how he is.''
The lift comes to a sudden halt, rickety metal creaking painfully as the door slides open.
Harry hums as he walks into the empty corridor, remembering Scrimgeour very well. ''Had hoped he would have been a good replacement for Alastor, but alas…'' They'd also hoped the man would have filled Fudge's footsteps better than he'd done. They'd needed a headstrong warrior and Scrimgeour had provided that, true. Such a shame he'd also been old school and condescending towards anyone not willing to lay their secrets bare to the Ministry. That way of thinking had, quite literally, cost the man his head.
''Any heads-up what this talk is about?'' he asks, still lingering near the lift as he is in need of more context before figuring out a way to weasel out of this situation. If possible, he prefers avoiding the Auror office altogether in favour of heading straight towards the property room where confiscated wands are being kept with the rest of case evidence.
Kingsley is thankfully his usual calm self, appearing in no hurry to run down the corridor to bark at Scrimgeour's heel. ''I don't have details on the topic, but perhaps the source is useful to you: right before demanding I haul your arse back into the office, Scrimgeour received a Floo call from our colleagues who are stationed at Hogwarts.''
Harry's blood runs cold. He expected the Ministry to have long been informed – another reason why it was odd to hear Sirius was still working. The message on the walls about Hermione having been dragged down to the Chamber had been found by the staff this morning. Hours had passed since then.
Merlin, he'd forgotten about the Ministry's sheer incompetence.
''Maybe Harry pulled one prank too many?'' Harry hears himself say with a hollow voice. ''You think Rufus would chew me out for that?''
''With the current state of the school, I doubt the Auror office would be contacted about pranks, Sirius,'' the other diplomatically states, resting a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. ''I do not wish to unnecessarily spook you, but with your son and fiancé both stuck in a castle with obvious security issues…''
Harry is about to play it off with a Sirius-typical witty reply to deflect the gravity of the planned talk, when he registers the word fiancé.
His godfathers are having wedding plans? Since when?
Moreover, they kept it to themselves?
Harry feels more betrayed than he should, considering he's kept the truth of his entire existence from them.
Out of his depth over this sudden information – and admittedly already quite tired after dealing with Lockhart and securing the Philosopher's Stone earlier today - he isn't quick enough to seek an escape, Kingsley already tugging him along, perhaps interpreting Harry's dazedness as shock over the mentioned danger settling in as a real option. It would fit Kingsley's muttered apologies that only stop when Harry enters a familiar office.
This is going to be a lovely mess once the real Sirius talks to any of the other Aurors later, Harry realises. At least he picked a Sunday, so there are less people on duty than during the week. No wonder administration is causing some sort of ruckus if they're forced to cover weekend shifts. Perhaps their aim is to make the understaffed Aurors so annoyed that the schedules will be adjusted.
Speaking of understaffed, with three Aurors permanently stationed at Hogwarts (Dawlish, Savage and another called Fernby whom he'd not known in his first life but who Sirius regularly mentioned as being a tiresome pencil pusher) and it being the weekend, there can't be more on duty than those already mentioned. Indeed, only Williamson and Scrimgeour occupy the office, the latter of whom gives a stern nod – does this man ever smile? Does he know how? – and bids Sirius into the Head Auror office.
When coffee is offered, it is clear this won't be quick. Resigned, as it's hardly practical to overwhelm and obliviate three Aurors just to get away faster, he takes a seat to avoid suspicion. Wary of being seen as odd, Harry swallows the bitter pill and prepares his cup the way Sirius drinks it every day: sweetened with honey and spiced with cayenne pepper. Swallowing the swill with tears forming in the corners of his eyes, Harry focuses on breathing through his nose.
''Black,'' Scrimgeour addresses him, staring intently as if they're having an interrogation rather than a conversation. ''We received grave news from Hogwarts. I'll be straight with you: Hermione Granger has been attacked and, according to a message written in blood, taken down to the Chamber of Secrets to be killed. Our men have searched the castle once more to no avail.''
Harry does choke on the drink now, though not for the reason Scrimgeour must assume. 'Written in blood'? They really sent the least competent Aurors to Hogwarts, didn't they? The first message Harry had left next to a petrified Mrs Norris had indeed been written using blood of the roosters they'd killed so the animals wouldn't completely go to waste, yet he'd seen no need to procure another batch of blood for this last message and used paint instead.
''I understand this is much to take in so shortly after Granger joined your family, but I need you to focus on practicality and the job, not be dragged down by emotions.''
No less stonehearted than Scrimgeour had been than in Harry's previous life, then, where the news of Dumbledore's will had been followed up by a recruitment attempt and poor appeal to Harry's sense of duty to a Ministry who'd thrown him around like a ragdoll for years.
The real Sirius would likely get angry at this and kick up a fuss. With the aim being getting out of this office however, that won't be very productive. Counting on the Head Auror being grateful enough for a lack of emotional outburst not to question it, Harry makes a show of inhaling and exhaling deeply to 'get himself under control', then meets Scrimgeour's eyes. ''I understand,'' he replies. ''I'll return to my duties for the rest of my shift. May I have a short break at least, to process it and get some air?''
''You'll get plenty of air on duty,'' Scrimgeour denies. The bastard. ''We're in a crisis, Black, and I need all the hands I can get, every minute until the Hogwarts express leaves Hogsmeade tomorrow morning. We cannot afford to lose more children to this monster than your own.''
Harsh but true, and whereas such a saying might have upset Sirius further, Harry can understand this attitude. Maybe he should reconsider his judgement of Scrimgeour's usefulness.
''I'm not heartless, Black,'' the other speaks, perhaps taking Harry's silence as judgement nonetheless, grey eyebrows furrowing. ''I'll be sending you to Hogwarts so you can be useful to us and ensure the rest of your family is safe. Drink up, we'll be receiving a guest any minute now.''
''Guest?''
Scrimgeour hums thoughtfully. ''Our youngest generation needs more stability than what the Aurors we sent and the staff of Hogwarts can provide. I advised the Minister against taking Albus Dumbledore into custody, he ignored it and see what has come of it: not a mere petrification, but an abduction with threat of murder. The accusations of 'obstruction of official investigations' were shaky at best and hold no ground now our own search turned up nothing. Shortly before your arrival, I sanctioned Dumbledore's release and sent out a message. He'll be picking up his wand and be escorted to Hogwarts by Kingsley and yourself.''
Dread forms in the pit of his stomach. If only Harry had arrived five minutes earlier…
He should have solved Flitwick's riddle faster.
In a last ditch-attempt to save this, Harry suggests: ''To make up for the time this talk cost us, I can already retrieve Professor Dumbledore's wand from the property room.''
Disappearing after doing so will put suspicion on Sirius of course, but it should be quite easy for his godfather to provide evidence of having been busy in a different department, quickly leading to the conclusion of an impostor. Not ideal, but Harry will put it on his long list of 'topics-he-needs-to-come-clean-about-soon'.
''Appreciated,'' the other says with approval, getting to his feet again to open the door. ''Shacklebolt! Black is heading to the property room to retrieve Dumbledore's wand. Stop loitering around and accompany him, I want that statue of Herpo the Foul in my office asap for appraisal and none of you lot will try to levitate it again, you hear? Make use of those muscles for once. Two men should do the job.''
''An curse appraiser is coming over on a Sunday?'' Harry grumbles none-too-happily as he steps into the main office.
''If this statue blows the floor to bits when a nasty curse is triggered, I prefer there to be as few casualties as possible.''
Having seen his fair share of dark objects, Harry does not agree with the decision that physically touching a possibly cursed statue is any wiser than casting a levitation charm on it. Unfortunately, starting an argument when Dumbledore is about to arrive and he has no idea where the real Sirius is right now wouldn't be smart. His window of time is closing fast, regardless of how much Polyjuice is left.
Being forced to take a step into one direction when everything screams it's wrong is particularly frustrating. Harry feels like a marionette being strung along in a puppet theatre as he walks side by side with Kingsley down the empty corridor. He wants to break out into a sprint, break the Elder wand out of the safe it is kept in, and vanish. At the same time, he does not wish for casualties, so unless he can catch Kingsley off guard with a precise stunner, he must go through the same motions Sirius would.
Kingsley's unhurried attitude grinds on Harry's nerves now, the turn of the doorknob far too slow.
Behind them sounds the tell-tale screech of metal. Resigned, Harry turns to see Dumbledore elegantly striding out of the lift. The eccentric wizard looks no more at home in these bleak Ministry corridors than he would in Little Whinging.
''Sirius, Kingsley,'' the aged man calls out with a hint of a smile. Dumbledore's spry step as he strides towards them is as impressive for the Headmaster's age as it is for the high-heeled boots the man has worn for as long as Harry has known him. ''How wonderful to see you both. May I assume correctly that Rufus taking the side of sense and giving me a Portkey to the Atrium means my wand shall be returned?''
The invisible strings Harry imagined before tighten. Knocking out an Auror is one thing. By this point, he is fairly confident in being able to duel multiple of them at once if need be.
He is no match for Albus Dumbledore. Not in a million years.
Kingsley has turned his attention to the older man as well, walking past Harry and spreading his arms in welcome. ''Dumbledore… What a relief to see you here and well. Fudge's decision was-''
Dumbledore raises a hand to interrupt. ''It is unwise to speak ill here,'' he subtly warns. ''What matters is that certain decisions were overruled.'' The lines in his face deepen as blue eyes hush over Sirius. ''Too little, too late of course, as usual… what news have you heard, Sirius?''
''Enough to know I should hurry to be reunited with my family.''
By this point, all he can do is hope to return to Hogwarts without running into Sirius. Once, Harry would have tried to pull desperate stunts to see his plans through. Today, he knows better. Backing up to regroup is a more positive outcome than losing everything in an attempt to force a victory.
In the property room, Harry quickly locates the correct safe and removes the glass container from it that contains the Elder Wand. He hesitates briefly before placing in on the table.
Just a touch of the handle… the other Deathly Hallows had recognised him. Would holding it for a second be enough? Would anyone notice something off?
The metal latches holding the lid of the transparent case in place audibly click, and he removes said lid with slightly trembling hands while Dumbledore hovers over his shoulder – and what wizard would not, when about to be reunited with their wand, a limb far more important than an arm or a leg?
Five minutes, Harry sombrely thinks as a weathered hand reaches out to close around the handle of the Deathstick. Icy blue sparks emit from it as the wand recognises its current owner.
He shouldn't have wasted so much time on monologuing to Lockhart.
Despite this unfortunate turn of events, Harry cannot regret it for too long when seeing Dumbledore's almost child-like joyous smile and a brief blissful closing of his eyes as the old man holds the wand to his chest.
Harry knows the feeling well, has experienced it twice in just the past year. Once while visiting Ollivander's last July when chosen again by his holly wand, and once on the day of Voldemort's resurrection, when allowed to briefly hold the wand he'd kept safe and used for the eleven years prior to his last birthday.
''Sirius? We still have to drag this statue to the boss' office for the curse appraisal.''
Right, there was that.
Dumbledore bemusedly watches them struggle lifting it, then comments: ''This splendid work of art carries no curse apart from its ability to repel viewers with its ugliness. Do not waste your time, boys. Now, would you care to escort me to where we are truly needed?'' As if these words hid a summoning charm within them, a tiny flame appears mid-air, growing until it takes the shape of a Phoenix. ''I'll drop Rufus an owl once we've arrived,'' Dumbledore smiles, grasping onto one of Fawkes' claws and holding out a hand. ''Would you like to travel in style?''
The bird gives an unnervingly piercing stare when Harry accepts the offered hand, and he dearly hopes that Fawkes and Dumbledore can communicate no more than he can with Hedwig, for he's quite certain that the Phoenix knows exactly who he is: one of the carriers of the brother wands with Fawkes' own tail feather.
All worries over being discovered are forgotten when whisked away. A storm of fire with the aura of the brightest, most genuine embrace he's ever experienced envelops his entire being. Hues of blues and oranges that flash before his eyes remind of an ocean sunset. The roaring of flames is a background choir that lifts the whimsical trills of the Phoenix' song.
It is harmony and perfection, nothing short of magnificent. When the fire dies down to reveal the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, Harry feels a tad dazed.
''What will you do now?'' he asks the Headmaster out of legitimate curiosity. Until Harry gives the sign for Hermione and Lockhart to emerge, the school is still set for evacuation come morning. He's not entirely certain what Dumbledore's plan in rushing to the school is.
The previous cheerfulness leaves, shoulders hunching the slightest bit. ''I hope my presence will make a difference, however small it may be. I deeply regret not fighting harder to stay at Hogwarts, Sirius. It needn't have come to this.''
''You don't know if you could have stopped it,'' Kingsley comments, who had grabbed onto Harry's arm to be dragged along.
Harry tends to agree to that comment, as the basilisk scheme would have been set in motion one way or the other.
''We will never know now…''
That might not be entirely true. One day, Dumbledore is bound to discover what truly happened, and how much Harry and Hermione's plans unintentionally spun out of hand so much that the Ministry involved itself.
He does not feel like humouring the Headmaster with this tale today, not least of all because he cannot tell how much time has passed between his last sip of Polyjuice and now. Not an hour yet for certain, but he prefers to let the effects wear off in a quiet corner where he cannot be observed. Banking on Dumbledore being more emphatic than Scrimgeour, he says: ''I'd like to visit Severus and Harry.''
''Naturally,'' the other agrees without a hint of protest. ''Do not let those you love out of sight, lest you lose sight of yourself.''
Harry decides to take that piece of wisdom to heart, though not in the way Dumbledore intended. It is time for the victim of the Heir of Slytherin and her 'hero' to emerge from the Basilisk's lair.
As he heads to the Room of Requirement and paces their plotting room until regaining a much smaller body, Harry uses a coin – modelled after the D.A. Galleons, which had been modelled after the Dark Mark – to inform Hermione about his return.
Some twenty minutes later, upon returning to Gryffindor tower, Harry is greeted by a mixture of elation and confusion. Every student has their own wild theory about what happened, which Harry can make heads nor tails of until Ron drags him to a corner.
''Where were you that you didn't hear?'' the boy asks with a wide grin. ''Hermione was saved! Hogwarts is staying open! Just a couple of minutes ago, Dumbledore personally -Dumbledore! He's back! - informed the whole castle that the threat has been dealt with!''
With all the eagerness of an eleven-year-old that Harry can manage to dredge up from the bottom of his energy level, he questions: ''How? I went to Lockhart to tell him what I knew, do you think he actually…?''
''Nah, no way. It had to be Dumbledore swooping in to find this monster and hack it to bits!'' Ron enthusiastically exclaims, making chopping motions with his wand like one would with a sword. ''Hey, we'll be the first House to get the full story, won't we? Because of you? Surely they'll tell you what really happened. Either that or we find out when Hermione returns.''
Harry is not as positive about that happening anytime soon. Dumbledore isn't known for being forthcoming, and despite the positive message broadcasted to ease the students' worries, the staff is bound to be more concerned than they let on. After all, a certain Sirius Black never contacted his partner and disappeared off the grid, plus Dumbledore will surely have discovered by now that the Philosopher's Stone is missing.
Indeed, while the portraits carry on the message that all Head girls and boys may escort the students to the Great Hall for dinner instead of food being sent up to the common rooms as had been the case for lunch, the staff table is glaringly empty. Dumbledore's presence cannot conceal that McGonagall, Severus, Lockhart, and even Quirrell are missing. Nor does Hermione join the rest of the Gryffindors to celebrate.
During dessert, a mysterious scroll of parchment suddenly appears on his plate, which reveals cursive handwriting with instructions to wait at the entrance doors. When the rest of the hall has cleared out (and he has shown the scroll to Percy, who was nervous about leaving a student behind even now the threat has been neutralised) Harry does as instructed, unsurprised when the very last person to exit and close the large doors is Dumbledore himself.
''My apologies for being unable to sate your curiosity earlier, Harry,'' the man speaks, friendly. ''I wished for Madam Pomfrey to confirm Miss Granger's wellbeing before allowing any visitors, and Severus had duties elsewhere… Say, have you been visited by Sirius?''
''Sirius? I thought he hadn't been sent to Hogwarts?''
Dumbledore's face does not betray any worry as he quietly nods. ''That is what he told me as well a few minutes ago over floo… Perhaps my old eyes have been playing tricks on me, I could swear to have arrived at Hogwarts with him.'' The chortle he lets out sounds hollow. ''Come, both of your godfathers are waiting in the infirmary.''
''Is Hermione alright? Is she awake?'' he questions as they make their way towards the hospital wing.
''She is,'' the Headmaster assures. ''Harrowed by these strange events, of course… Though not as much as our latest Defence Professor. It seems we'll once more be greeting a new staff member next year.''
Unsure about what would be an appropriate comment on that, Harry decides not saying anything at all is best. Within the context he already has, it's not difficult to puzzle together that Lockhart has left the premises to let himself be heralded in a place that is not inhabited by either Harry or giant snakes. He wonders how much of that was Lockhart's own choice and how much the curse on the Defence position making the man unable to physically stay until the full end of the year.
Lockhart fleeing is a risk Harry had calculated in and was willing to take. He knows the sort: the man won't be a danger until he finds himself having the upper hand again, which Harry will not allow. A magical guarantee of loyalty would have been better than presumed knowledge of Lockhart's nature of course, yet the only magically binding vow Harry knows is the Unbreakable one – which has the unpleasant effect of death upon breaking it. With killing mages being the polar opposite of Harry's own goals, he decided against it.
Well, he'll find Lockhart again soon enough. If not with his own resources, then with Voldemort's.
''Don't you wish to know what happened?'' Dumbledore asks, giving him a curious sideway glance. Harry only sees it from his peripheral vision, careful to keep his own gaze lowered to the floor as if in thought.
Maybe he should have shown a bit more interest. ''Not to be rude, Professor, but I'm less concerned about what went down than about my sister's wellbeing. After I've seen Hermione, I'll gladly hear all about it.''
''Of course, forgive my ramblings. Ah, here we are.''
The Hospital wing is bright and smells vaguely of a Muggle cleaning agent Harry cannot recall the name of. Has a potion been invented with the same smell, or does Madam Pomfrey shop in the Muggle world for disinfectants?
The place is quite empty – everyone who'd been petrified has been dismissed by now, exams are over and Quidditch being cancelled has done wonders for the overall health of the student body – so they have the Hospital wing practically for themselves. Near the back, he spots Severus and Sirius standing at the bed that must belong to Hermione. He catches the tail end of their conversation when approaching:
''-away from it all for a while. So you will not be bombarded with questions from your peers in the next fortnight,'' Severus states.
''Perhaps…'' Hermione answers, sounding not entirely persuaded by whatever they'd been trying to convince her of. ''I don't wish to start the next school year with being behind on class material though. Getting back into routine with summer prep classes doesn't sound too bad. Besides… I'd not expected to meet with Regulus this fast-'' her pitch shifts higher with clear nervousness.
Harry hadn't prodded deeper into the issue of Hermione's soul bond to his uncle other than what the girl spontaneously revealed. He is only aware of Regulus having been delivered the news by Sirius shortly ago, who took it as stoically as Regulus took everything: deciding that he could not accept this information from anyone but Hermione herself.
''He won't visit until you're ready for a conversation,'' Sirius assures. ''We don't need to stay in England either. In fact, it might be better if-''
''Harry!'' Hermione exclaims in relief, having spotted their approach.
Before he can rush to her bedside, Harry's breath is knocked out of his lungs by Sirius' tight embrace. ''Oh pup,'' the man mutters. ''Am I glad to see you safe as well. What do you say? Skip these unnecessary last weeks of school to spend time with us instead?''
''Errr…'' Harry hesitates when the hug is loosened a bit. ''Since when are those optional? We'll receive our summer assignments and such, won't we? And doesn't Severus still need to teach?''
Dumbledore clears his throat, looking quite formal as he folds his hands behind his back. ''With this turbulent end of the year and remaining questions in regards to the culprit, I can't imagine we'll get much proper teaching done. Your godfathers have already received my blessing to take Miss Granger on a well-deserved early summer break, and naturally, as part of this family, it is only fair that this privilege is extended towards you, my boy.''
Much is left unsaid, communicated only in knowing, serious looks exchanged between the adults.
''I'll be leaving you, so you can come to a decision. Either way, I would very much recommend not missing tomorrow's splendid end-of-the-year feast. Sirius, you're welcome to stay in the castle, if your employer allows it.''
''I had tomorrow off anyways,'' the man happily replies. ''I'd love to relive Hogwarts for a bit, even if only for a day.''
Harry cannot deny that this early family reunion lifts his spirits. As Hermione is physically fine and insists on leaving the Hospital Wing, they retreat to Severus' quarters to spend the evening catching up and enjoying each other's company away from the rest of the school. Under many reproachful glares, Severus is also forced to hand over the invisibility cloak and Marauder's map again.
''I can't believe you took such life-saving items away from them!'' Sirius hisses. ''They weren't kidnapped while sneaking out with these, were they?''
''I'd hoped it would deter them from sneaking out more often…'' comes the sullen answer. ''Hermione, you never did mention where you were when taken.''
Having been warned about Severus' excellent ability to sniff out lies, she replies: ''I went to bed like usual last night. I also find it hard to imagine anything as large as a basilisk snuck into the dorms but… Ronald Weasley also got petrified there. Harry, are there any secret tunnels to Gryffindor tower?''
''No,'' he shrugs, playing along with her explanation of 'I have no idea what happened', fitting Lockhart's official statement of Hermione having been knocked out when he'd found her and the girl's own vague account about never even having seen the Basilisk or whoever had commanded it. All technically true. ''What's important is that you're safe now.''
''I truly thought Lockhart was a fraud all along,'' Severus mutters. ''There was more to him than met the eye, as much as I hate to admit it. No-one thought he could really slay a monster. Well, no-one but you,'' the man continues, frowning at Harry. ''A shame he left, for while the culprit's tool has been defeated, we never caught whomever was behind these awful deeds. In fact…'' he hesitates, throwing a glance at Sirius before declaring:
''Hogwarts may stay open, yet this tale leaves a bitter taste. Sirius and I think it is best for you both to leave Hogwarts for now in case either of you remains a target. The Forbidden Corridor on the third floor the Headmaster warned you about at the start of the school year was breached today, an item of immense value was stolen from it. At the same time, an impostor was running around the Ministry and Hogwarts wearing Sirius' face while knowing far too well how to impersonate him down to the smallest details. Dumbledore did not wish for us to tell you this, but we find it important that you know something larger may be at hand. That the one who took Hermione, who stole this object and who masqueraded as Sirius were either the same person or working together. This may not yet be over.''
Harry has never felt guiltier about how much these schemes of theirs affected the rest of his family. And in the end, he doesn't even have all items he wished to gather to show for it. The Elder wand remains in Dumbledore's possession.
He confesses this to Hermione in the quiet of a night they are both too adrenaline-fuelled to sleep through. ''It caused so much unnecessary drama and I was still too late,'' he growls out, frustrated with himself.
''You couldn't have foreseen the Ministry getting involved when they did.''
''No, but I did persuade Fudge to take Dumbledore into custody. I should have kept all this at Hogwarts. Now, Sirius is paranoid about how some evil stranger got a hold of his hair. He'll be even far more furious when the truth comes out, plus your own involvement will be harder to hide. I was overly confident about the knowledge of my previous life being enough to influence events in our favour.''
''It won't be the end of the world,'' she reassures. ''Don't be so negative, Harry Potter. You have Lockhart in your pocket and the Philosopher's Stone is safe from destruction. Besides, I refuse to let you take all of the blame: I was the one who insisted on this Basilisk scheme after you rejected all of my even more dangerous plans.''
He chuckles at that. ''Okay, but the plan itself was quite good. It brought me Hera, besides. I'm only mad at how the execution of it spiralled out of control so much. I hope this hasn't completely ruined my already slim chances of staying in contact with my godfathers after they find out I'm not actually a child, or that I very well know and support my Intended.''
''Well, as disappointing as it is that we'll have to leave Hogwarts early and can't attend class until the summer holidays start, perhaps it will take the edge off things. They were already talking about a spontaneous trip abroad if Sirius can find someone to cover for him. A few weeks in another country without having to worry about our safety might do them some good. It'll do you some good as well, not to think of how your next step will affect the future fate of the world for a bit.''
''My soul mate won't be happy if I quit school but don't visit him.''
A pillow is harshly smacked into his face. ''Think about yourself for once!'' Hermione angrily yells, and Harry is grateful that he put up strong privacy wards around the guest bedroom Severus allowed them to sleep in for the night (really just the man's living room with two makeshift beds). ''It's always 'the greater good' and 'the continuation of magical society' and 'your soulmate's happiness' with you! I know that you want nothing more right now than to have a good time with your godfathers before you have to pick up your self-imposed heavy duties. Don't you dare deny that!''
''Yes Ma'am,'' Harry mutters, strongly reminded of Mrs Weasley.
''Good! So forget about this stupid wand and your stupid Dark Lord for two minutes, and let me forget about my stupid soul mate while we all go on a nice trip!''
'Forgetting' about his soul mate is not exactly what Harry does as he packs his trunk the next day, lovingly touching the Horcruxes Voldemort had shockingly allowed him to safeguard even after the man had regained a body, as well as the marble crown he hides in the same compartment. Nor does he forget about his quests when all he can think about during the End-of-Year-Feast is the wand with which Dumbledore changes the emerald and silver banners to red and gold after rewarding Hermione with an insane amount of points for 'being key to saving Hogwarts'.
Nevertheless, he follows her advice as best as possible, only sneaking out once more that evening under the invisibility cloak – not to steal the last Hallow, but to say his goodbyes to Quirrell, whose entire demeanour is much brighter now he's able to study one of the most sought-after alchemic creations in existence.
''Thank you for keeping Severus busy yesterday, I know it wasn't an easy task,'' Harry tells the Death Eater. ''I hope the reward somewhat makes up for it.''
''More than that. I'll do my utmost to guard this treasure as long as I may. Of course, I will have to ask my Lord whether I can truly keep it.''
Harry understands Quirrell's hesitance. He himself is still mentally prepared to return Hera, as the little serpent was never explicitly stated to have been gifted. Voldemort is not particularly known for his spurts of generosity. ''I assume we won't cross paths often anymore, as you will remain here at Hogwarts.''
''I imagine not. The library needs to be cared for during summer all the same, so I'll be staying in the castle. Can't have Peeves ruining books when I'm not here.''
''I truly wonder whose decision it was to give Peeves the Mandrake draught. One would think everyone would be happy to be rid of that Poltergeist for a while longer.''
''Oh, I don't know,'' Quirrell answers with a smirk. ''What is this place without a bit of chaos? If you won't attend Hogwarts next year, perhaps we do need Peeves.''
Snorting at that not-so-subtle jab, he warns: ''Next year, there'll be four Weasleys attending Hogwarts, and Ginny can be as bad as her twin brothers. No-one needs more chaos than that.''
Satisfied with the dread on Quirrell's face, he returns to the dungeons to join his family. As breakfast and dinner already brought far too many nosy questions, they unanimously decided to use the floo network to leave Hogwarts instead of waiting for tomorrow's train ride.
As Harry steps into emerald flames and reads out an unfamiliar and foreign-sounding street name from the slip of parchment Sirius enthusiastically handed to him a moment ago, he is ready to embrace the last few days of his childhood.
For when they'll return home and are within Voldemort's reach, this part of his life will be over.
AN: So much for Harry's plans working out as he likes them to. Would have been a little bit overpowered to give him Lockhart, the Stone AND the united hallows all at once. He'll need to get a tad more creative to get his hands on the Elder Wand..
Note that the holidays don't follow immediately on the exams: depending on the year, there are still several weeks of school after (In Philosopher's Stone two whole weeks after the end-of-year feast!) during which it's unclear whether the students have regular classes or just... hang around until the official holidays. For educational purposes classes make most sense to me, but then again it's weird that the end-of-year feast is beforehand. It's kind of messy, so I'm going with 'classes in form of prep for the holidays/next year' as we know they also have summer holiday assignments.
Also, I'm not writing the trip abroad in full, the next chapter will pick up with them arriving at Grimmauld again ^^
So to those who have been waiting for Voldemort to show up again, your patience will at last be rewarded ;)
Please read and review!
xx GeMerope