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𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊
Act III - Birth Of The Demon
Chapter 20: Lord Voldemort's Request
"Kitkat."
The gargoyle immediately began to spin around as it moved up, revealing the staircase behind it. Harry stepped forward and allowed the revolving stairs to take him upward. And this time, he didn't even bother touching the door knob, and just waited there.
"Come in, Harry."
He rolled his eyes. A proximity ward on the knob, and another on the outside then. He wondered if they were applied on the floor, and activated through pressure or if they were applied on the space around him, in which case they'd be activated just by the mere presence of an individual. Whether that individual needed to be magical or not, remained to be tested.
Something for another day.
More surprising was the fact that he wasn't alone in the office with the old man.
"Uh Professor… Scamander?"
"Professor Potter," said the man with a lopsided grin. "Welcome."
Harry flushed. "Please, just call me Harry."
"Newt."
"Come in," said Dumbledore, though Harry noticed that his usual joviality was missing. Either it was because of what happened in the DADA class, or something worse had transpired. Knowing his luck, it was the latter.
"Professor McGonagall said you wished to talk to me?" He offered, taking a seat next to Scamander.
"Ah yes, that's one of the many things I wished to discuss with you this evening. I must say, my boy, after all the control you've displayed over the course of the last few months, I did not anticipate you would forget all of it, and channel your anger in such opulent glory over Mr. Malfoy."
Harry sighed. He really did not want to deal with this all over again. The little heated debate with Hermione had been tiring enough.
"Did he come to complain to you, Professor?"
Dumbledore's moustache quivered. "No, he didn't, which in hindsight, is rather surprising. I was informed by Madam Pomfrey that she let him leave sometime in the afternoon."
Oh, thought Harry. Then it must've been Snape—
"Interestingly, not even Professor Snape has come up with a complaint. Given your rise to the instructor position, I had anticipated him coming to complain on principle. That he did not do so is quite telling, don't you think?"
Harry suppressed a chuckle.
"In hindsight, I imagine Minerva did have a point. However, I'd ask you to recount the events as they transpired."
Harry exhaled again. "Mr. Malfoy behaved exactly like I expected him to do, sir. Like a git. He challenged my authority several times, for which I even deducted points, not just from him, but from every person that broke the classroom conduct. I even tried to shut him up with detention, and realising that nothing worked, I openly asked him what he wanted. His answer was to show me my place in the pecking order, and challenged me to an honour duel."
Newt snorted. "A student challenging another in an honour duel?"
Harry looked at him. "I ignored that too. Then Daph — I mean, Miss Greengrass and Mr. Nott told me that I had to accept it, according to, well, protocol. Something about the Heir of Malfoy challenging Lord of Potter. I think the Flying Post had an article on that."
"I have read the article," said Dumbledore. "What I am wondering is why you allowed things to deteriorate in that fashion."
"Sir, I had it completely under control. Fleur's wards—"
"I am not talking about the wards, Professor Harry Potter," said Dumbledore, his voice slightly stern, "You are precocious, but I know you well enough that you won't risk anyone's life, not even Draco Malfoy's, even if he's the one insulting you in front of everyone. No, what I'm asking is why you dragged it and humiliated him in front of the entire class. And please do not insult my intelligence, Harry. I know you could've ended the duel in a few seconds had you wanted to do so."
Harry stayed quiet for a moment.
"Well?"
"Because," he looked up and met the man's eyes. "Because Draco needed to be taught a lesson, Professor."
"And what lesson is that?"
"That actions have consequences," said Harry. "Draco runs his mouth without caring for what they cause. He wanted to fight and be treated like a big boy, so I gave him a duel. I think next time, he'll think twice before challenging someone."
"And is that what you think of yourself now, Harry? The big boy in control of everything?"
Harry gave him a look of genuine puzzlement. "I don't understand, Professor. You offered me this job, despite my requesting otherwise. Several times over. I did not have the slightest interest in teaching Defence, or playing the 'Big Boy' as you're painting me to be. You knew perfectly well that Malfoy and his cohorts would disregard anything I told them. What do you think I should've done?"
"You could've stunned him, and left Professor Snape to deal with them."
Harry laughed out loud. It was a cruel thing. "Because he does a bang-up job of that?"
"Harry," said Dumbledore amiably. "You have been learning from Severus for quite some time. I am even told that Severus maintains a professional relationship with you during his sessions. Surely you can control your antagonism towards him now?"
Harry opened his mouth in surprise. "Professor Snape is a wonderful DADA teacher. Perhaps the best I've ever had, alongside Sirius. But I wasn't talking about that. I was referring to the bias he has in favour of Slytherin House. He hasn't acted against Malfoy till date, so I naturally didn't think it'd be different this time around."
"So you appointed yourself as the judge and jury?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Professor, did you not give me the job of teaching them? As their instructor, I am their judge and jury."
Dumbledore frowned slightly.
"And before you mention it, I made sure that the only wounds Draco would get were superficial ones. Barely anything more than multiple knockback jinxes. The only thing I intended to wound was his pride."
"I believe you were quite successful at that," murmured the Headmaster. "And I do not think Lucius Malfoy will be willing to let this pass."
"Of course not," said Harry. "I intend to exact a formal statement from him, with him agreeing to the terms of the Honour Duel as Draco so casually hurled at me. If not, then I'll be writing an open letter to the Daily Prophet, and sending a formal complaint to the DMLE, as Lord Potter, citing how House Malfoy is an oath-breaker and utterly true to its name."
Newt snorted at that but said nothing.
"Your frivolity will not unmake the severity of this situation, Harry," sighed the Headmaster.
"I'm just playing by the rules, Professor. Honestly, at first I didn't want to do this, but Draco forced my hand, and then Nott and Daphne told me about the laws, and as Lord Potter…"
"You could have just accepted the challenge elsewhere."
"That way has no teeth, professor," said Harry testily. "Draco is just like his father. He challenged me in front of everyone, so I made him eat his words in front of everyone. If he so much as tries to claim otherwise, I've a room full of witnesses in my favour. If Lucius Malfoy wants to bring this matter to the Wizengamot, I'm looking forward to it."
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, and then he let out a little laugh. "One little Wizengamot trial and you've gone habitual, Harry."
"Just trying to keep up with things," Harry said with a half-shrug. "I did my best to contain it, and laugh it off as irrelevant. It was only when Draco kept harping about it, and I realised that we'd go nowhere by deducting points and assigning detention that I even agreed to this nonsense. Like Daphne and Theo Nott pointed out, as the challenged one, I have the right to choose the time and place. I thought I could use the opportunity to give my students a taste of what a real duel is like. Unfortunately, all they could learn was what not-to-do in a duel. Not exactly what I was expecting, but nobody claimed Draco to be a genius at duelling either way. Still, I gave him ten points at the end for being a good sport."
Newt laughed louder. Even Dumbledore looked amused.
Harry grinned, and said. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about, Professor?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I did, actually. I'm not sure why I did not think of this before. Perhaps my age is finally catching up to me. There is a very vital memory I wish for you to see, but before that, there is something I wished to tell you."
Harry nodded.
"Regardless of how this issue with Lucius Malfoy will play out, I'm afraid he won't be letting things be. Madam Umbridge in particular, has taken your appointment quite terribly, I'm afraid."
"What a shocker!"
Dumbledore ignored his quip. "She is also quite skilled in weaving conspiracy theories involving the two of us, and our malicious attempt to turn Hogwarts into our place of power, from which I, through you, as my pawn, would control all of Wizarding Britain."
"That's absolutely malevolent of you, professor."
"Not the first time he's done that," said Newt. "Torquil Travers thought he was using me as a pawn to secretly help Gellert Grindelwald take over the ICW. And I can't even blame him, given how he actually forced me to become a fugitive from my own country."
Dumbledore sighed. "I asked you one time to break the rules for me, rules you would've broken anyway, and you never let me forget it."
Newt laughed. "Not if I can help it."
"That aside," said Dumbledore, the smile vanishing from his face. "I'm afraid that Cornelius is not going to let things lie down this time around. His paranoia has reached its limit. He already has Madam Umbridge inspect the professors, and validate them according to her prescribed reforms—"
Harry snorted. Umbridge couldn't be trusted to keep a chicken alive for a week, forget validating the professors at Hogwarts.
"I believe he will soon attempt to force me to step down from the Headmaster's position, either by hook or by crook."
"WHAT?" Harry said, standing up, absolutely flabbergasted by the man's words. "Why?"
"Surely you know the answer to that question, Harry. In his paranoia, Cornelius is convinced that I am plotting against him to overthrow his Ministry. He has also taken your recent donation to Hogwarts as part of our plan to remove Clause 159, and gain control over the Board of Directors by putting Joshua Greengrass as the Chairman."
"..."
"I know," Dumbledore sighed. "Sometimes things work out in wondrous patterns, and it turns out Madam Umbridge is especially skilled in noticing such patterns that validate her fears about us engineering a coup against the Ministry."
Well, thought Harry inwardly. He's half-right. Some of it was indeed planned to engineer a coup against Malfoy and the Ministry. The basilisk sale was already up in the air, but it had taken some planning with Fleur and Daphne (separately) before he timed it to happen right after the mutiny. To be honest, even he was surprised at how successful it had turned out to be.
The Defence position though, was an unexpected curve ball which, he had realised, he could use to his advantage.
"Professor Dumbledore," he said, choosing his words carefully. "What do you want me to do? Stay clear of the Ministry, and do what they want, or truly teach them how to defend against the Dark Arts?"
"I'd assume that you have no choice in the matter, Harry. The entire point behind offering you this position is to locate the source of the curse, which cannot happen unless you teach them to defend against the Dark Arts."
"But that will also require me to teach them about countercurses and dark magic," said Harry, "as well as stuff like the Patronus charm and advanced spells. I doubt Madam Umbridge is going to see things that way. Next thing I know, she's gonna claim that I'm creating Dumbledore's army at Hogwarts."
A small smile formed on the Headmaster's face. "You let me worry about Dolores Umbridge. Focus on your own studies and your classes, Harry. I assume Professor Snape is continuing your studies well?"
"We just started on the subject of Dark Arts," Harry admitted. "Err, professor, there was one more thing I wanted to know. Sna— err, Professor Snape is teaching me, so doesn't that mean the curse will also affect him to some extent?"
"No," said Dumbledore. "For he is the Potions master of Hogwarts, and not the Defence professor. And hopefully, we will have dealt with the curse faster than it becomes a problem for either of you."
"Professor, if you don't mind me asking something—"
"Ask away, Harry."
"Why are you letting this happen?"
Whatever Dumbledore was expecting him to say, that was obviously not it. Even Scamander looked surprised.
"I'm afraid I do not understand your question."
"Why are you letting Fudge run things his way?" asked Harry. Daphne would have yelled at him for being this blunt, but he had learnt the hard way that bluntness had a way with Dumbledore that no amount of wordplay could ever achieve. Especially because Dumbledore was a master of the latter, and no matter how much Harry tried, the wily old man would defeat him at that game.
"Harry, Cornelius Fudge is the Minister of Magic."
"And you're the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. I'm pretty sure that if you called in support, or if you chose to make a stand against Fudge, that… that buffoon wouldn't last a day. Instead you let that crazy woman remain at Hogwarts, and make everyone's life hell. Even Professor McGonagall is at the edge of her patience with her. That woman doesn't deserve to put one foot inside Hogwarts and she's the reason everything's so messed up. Daphne told me that she heard rumours about her joining Professor Runcorn to give a set of special classes on Preservation of Culture and Traditions. You can't tell me that anything that woman espouses will be good for the students."
The Headmaster sighed. "Unfortunately, she is the High Inquisitor, and it is beyond my authority as Headmaster to stop her from improving the quality of education at Hogwarts. Can you imagine how most purebloods will take it if I put a stopgap on a class on preservation of wizarding culture? Half the Wizengamot will call me an anti-pureblood, and the modernists will paint me as someone that is keeping the muggleborns from learning and embracing wizarding culture. For all her shortsightedness, Dolores Umbridge is a quintessential Slytherin."
"So you'll just allow her to continue spreading bigotry among the students."
"I imagine I can depend on you to show the students the truth as a way to counter her."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but then decided otherwise. Come to think of it —
"So that's why you're going to take all the blame on yourself, aren't you?" He asked, looking at the man in a new light. "If the Ministry is forced to blame you for everything, they cannot pin anything on me?"
"There are many reasons behind my acceptance of Cornelius's whims. I have learned the hard way, that forcing an opinion on others is often a bad way of getting things to happen. Unfortunately, decades of politics has yet to teach Cornelius that, yet he insists on forcibly covering up every bit of evidence that goes against his 'convenient' truth. It is only a matter of time before people begin actively questioning why the Ministry is trying so hard to come after the two of us, and begin wondering if the Dark Lord truly is back. Besides, Cornelius will have to resign the moment Tom shows his face in public, something that will happen sooner than I believe. For that reason, I will need to leave Hogwarts for a certain time, and Madam Umbridge is very conveniently giving me an excuse to leave without having to take a sabbatical."
"You want her to force you out because you cannot be bothered to take a sabbatical?" asked Harry incredulously.
"Well of course," quipped the eccentric Headmaster. "I've never taken a break in all my years of being Headmaster. It would be an absolute disaster to break my streak."
Harry shook his head in exasperation.
"But," Dumbledore's expressions became resolute. "When that happens, I want your word that you will do everything in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts against that woman's cruelty. Newt here will of course help you, as will the other professors, but you, Harry, are the one person that the students will be able to relate to. I have heard from our very own gossip vine that the students across all years found you to be very… companionable."
Harry flushed. "I just did what I thought was best, professor."
"And I'm hoping you will continue doing this. Who knows, perhaps if we achieve excellent results in Defence OWLs and NEWTs, I will have to ask you to take up the mantle next year again."
"I'm a student, Professor—"
"So you tell me, yes. But we have digressed enough. Now, the main issue for which I summoned both yourself and Newt here. While it pains me to do things out of order, it is essential the two of you watch this first."
He reached for the cabinet and pulled out a thin flash, in which floated an iridescent blue substance.
"Is that a….."
"A memory," said Albus Dumbledore. "I would have liked you to see certain other memories first, before leading to this, but unfortunately, Destiny has a way of upsetting man's plans. I am unsure how I forgot about this earlier, until Newt here informed me, signs of an ageing mind no doubt, but I believe this memory might give us a foray into the origins of the curse."
"Why me?" asked Newt.
"Because it will give you an insight into the man himself."
Newt narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
"Whose memory is that, sir?" asked Harry.
"Mine."
"...Oh." said Harry. He had been inside another of Dumbledore's memories last year, witnessing the trial of Igor Karkaroff, who had named Barty Crouch Junior as a Death Eater, leading to the man's arrest. Interestingly, the same place — Courtroom ten — was where Harry's own trial had been held in place.
"I will not be joining you in this, so it will be yourself and Newt," said Dumbledore. "I look forward to what you think of this."
….
Falling into Dumbledore's memory was far less disconcerting, because he ended up in the same office he was sitting in. Only in the Past. There were fewer instruments on the table, and a much larger collection of books than the current day. The Sorting Hat lay like a rag in its usual place, and Fawkes was happily slumbering in his perch. Behind the desk however, sat Dumbledore, his face a lot less lined.
It was a winter night outside, and it was snowing. Harry had been enough in the man's presence to notice the slight shifts in his body language. Someone was about to arrive, and the younger Albus Dumbledore was awaiting his arrival.
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter."
The door opened —
Harry instantly raised his wand, a dark spell at his lips, when Newt grabbed his arm. That reminded him of where he was, and what was happening. This wasn't real, this was a memory, but that man —
"That's— that's Voldemort."
"I know," said Newt softly. "I can feel it."
As could Harry. Even though he was witnessing the memory, the stench of dark magic swirling around the man was enough to make him want to puke. Voldemort entered the room, his features far less ghastly than what Harry had seen at the graveyard, though his eyes were still dark crimson and lit with an eldritch malevolence. The serpentine features were missing, but in its stead, was a face with strangely blurred features, and the whites in his eyes now had a permanent bloody look. He was wearing a long, black cloak, and his face was paler than a ghost.
Dumbledore showed no sign of surprise.
"Good evening, Tom. Please, sit down."
"Thank you," said Voldemort and sat down on the very seat Harry had been sitting earlier. "I heard you had become Headmaster. A worthy choice indeed."
"I'm glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. It was a smile given by one predator to another. "Might I offer you a drink?"
"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."
Dumbledore raised his wand, and Harry recognized it wasn't the same wand that he had seen the man use, but a strange beaded thing. It was easily one of the longest wands he had ever seen, with a smooth, unadorned shaft and a handle formed from two conjoined spheres. Thick beads ran along the shaft until it ended in a tapering tip.
Harry knew this wand. He had seen it in the Anima, in his own hand no less.
"You recognize the wand?" asked Newt.
Harry nodded slowly. This was the Elder Wand. No doubt Dumbledore expected something serious or dangerous to happen.
"I hope you will not think terribly of me when I tell you that Albus has told me about your connection with Ignotus Peverell, and the three Hallows. He also mentioned how you rejected the allure of the wand despite him offering it."
Harry momentarily scowled at Dumbledore having told his private secrets to a complete stranger, but he realised that there had to be a reason why Dumbledore had invited the man to Hogwarts, and been so carefree about talking about his plans in front of him. Newt Scamander was part of Dumbledore's original army, and a war-hero of the Grindelwald war. No doubt he had a ton of experience to draw from.
"I suppose Professor Dumbledore has his reasons," he said slowly.
"He has," agreed Newt. "If you are willing, Mr. Potter, perhaps we can schedule some time to discuss things? There are a great many topics I'd like your opinion about."
"About Voldemort?" asked Harry. "Is that why Dumbledore—"
"Lord Voldemort is a madman that destroys whatever he touches. Just like you have lost your parents to that monster, I too have lost a dear friend of mine. Worse, she is still under his control and not even Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel can bring her back. So you see, both of us have a common enemy here."
Harry frowned, wondering who this 'friend' was.
"I guess we can discuss this later about this, Professor."
"Newt."
Harry nodded.
Turns out there was nothing to fear, for Dumbledore had just levitated a glass bottle of wine, and poured a goblet for Voldemort, and another for himself.
"So Tom, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Voldemort took a sip of his wine.
"They do not call me Tom anymore," he said. "These days, I am known as —"
"I know what you're known as," said Dumbledore, still smiling pleasantly. "But to me, you'll always be Tom Riddle. It's one of the irritating things about old teachers. I'm afraid they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."
"I'm surprised you've remained here so long," said Voldemort after a long pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."
"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "To a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."
"I still do," said Voldemort, only to pause for a moment. "Perhaps, you have found something at Hogwarts? Something that fits the aspirations of a wizard of your calibre?"
Dumbledore took a sip. "And what would that be?"
"Anything, I imagine," said Voldemort airily. "Hogwarts houses many secrets. I'm sure staying as Headmaster grants you access to them more than anyone else."
Harry knew, right then and there, what Voldemort was alluding to. He was talking of Ananta-Shesha's lair, and if not, then the other Vaults of Hogwarts. Nicolas had told him how he had returned to Hogwarts to teach Potions for several decades so that he could use the Lair to continue his own research and develop his magnum opus — the Philosopher's stone.
"But I wonder," Voldemort went on. "Someone like you, who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have, twice, I think, offered the post of Minister —"
"Thrice, actually," said Dumbledore. "And I'm afraid they are quite relentless. But the Ministry has never attracted me as a career. Something you can relate to, I'm sure."
Voldemort inclined his head slightly, and took another sip of wine.
"I have returned," he said, after a little while. "Later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected, but I have returned. Nevertheless, I intend to request what he denied me then. That you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things that they can gain from no other wizard."
Harry just stood still. Voldemort, much like Flamel, had come to Hogwarts to teach. No doubt because he wanted to regain access to the Miraculum Operarius.
"I have," admitted Dumbledore. "You have indeed seen and done much since leaving school. I'm afraid I do not see much reason behind working at Borgin and Burkes, but you have travelled indeed. But Mastery from the Necromancer's Guild? Now that is a terrifying thing to have. I should be sorry to believe half the rumours that have spread about you since then."
Harry stilled. Tom Riddle, no, Lord Voldemort, was a Master from the Necromancer's Guild? One of the six that did not adhere to the norms of the ICW?
Voldemort remained impassive. "Greatness inspires envy, envy engineers spite, and spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."
"You call it greatness, what you've been doing? Apprentice to infamous Necromancer Victor Rookwood. Right-hand of the Dark wizard Sebastian Sallow?"
"All rumours, I assure you," said Voldemort. "But it is true. I have pushed the boundaries of Magic further, perhaps more than they have ever been pushed —"
"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him. "Of others, forgive me, you remain woefully ignorant —"
For the first time, an evil leer surfaced on Voldemort's features. "The old argument. About love being the most powerful magic in existence. Sad to say, I have yet to come across anything of such nature."
"Perhaps you've been looking in the wrong places?"
"Perhaps," Voldemort agreed. "Will you let me renew my search here then? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."
It was ironic, Harry noted, that this was the first straight truth Voldemort had given him. He would need to be accepted as a Professor, take the required oaths, and only then would Ananta-Shesha even consider him as a potential claimant, regardless of his prior position as a Warden. No wonder he was trying so hard. This was the one thing that he couldn't force to happen. And if he even attempted to kill Dumbledore, the master of the castle, then such an act would automatically bar him from the Lair.
Salazar Slytherin had been quite particular about that rule.
"That's quite a noble sentiment, Tom," said Dumbledore. "But I wonder… what will become of those under your command? I believe they call themselves…. The Death Eaters?"
Voldemort's eyes flashed red. "My friends will carry on without me."
"I'm glad you consider them friends. I was under the impression they were more like… servants."
"You're mistaken."
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, nodding. "But does that mean that a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — are not currently awaiting your return at the Hog's Head?"
"...Omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."
"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore.
He put the goblet on the table. "Now Tom…. "
Harry tensed, watching as Dumbledore rested his arms on the table, the tips of his fingers joined in a very characteristic gesture.
"Let us speak openly," he said. "Why have you come here, tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"
Wrong, thought Harry. He wants this job. He wants it very much.
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore. I want it very much."
"You do not want to teach anymore than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you are truly after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"
There was something strangely ironic about Dumbledore asking for a straight answer that Harry found particularly funny.
Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job—"
"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore, something rumbling in his voice. "And I don't think, even for a moment, that you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here. You must have had a purpose."
Voldemort just stood up. "This is your final word?"
"It is."
"Then we have nothing to say to each other."
"No nothing," said Dumbledore, his face filled with sadness. "The time is long gone when a burning wardrobe was enough to frighten you and force you to repay your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. I wish I could…"
And on that note, a swirling sensation around him caught Harry, and the next thing he knew, he was back in the Headmaster's office, with an equally disturbed Newt Scamander standing next to him.
"Well?" asked a pleasantly-waiting Dumbledore. "I imagine you have much to say about that."
"Voldemort — he—" Harry panted, as he tried to get his thoughts into order. Dumbledore offered him a glass of water, which he quickly drank and sank down on the closest chair. "When — when was this?"
"Winter of 1967, I imagine. It snowed a lot that year."
"That feels too much of a coincidence," said Newt. "You claimed you discovered the curse on the DADA position shortly after that."
"It took us until the start of 1969 to fully confirm it, but yes. I've never been able to maintain a Defence professor for too long ever since I refused to give it to Lord Voldemort."
He turned to Harry. "What do you think, my boy?"
But Harry's mind was already running several miles ahead. Voldemort had come to Hogwarts. And if he had access to any of the other Vaults beside the Lair, then he could've been the one to place the curse on the DADA position. He had the motive, the chance and the perfect place to set it in place. There was just one problem.
"Professor," he said slowly. "You said Voldemort was a member of the Necromancer's Guild. Professor McGonagall briefly mentioned the Guilds earlier today, and she said that it didn't adhere to the ICW, and was a place for the study of Necromancy."
"All true, I'm afraid," said Dumbledore.
"Even if we assume that Tom Riddle is the caster behind the DADA curse," Harry mused aloud. "Are you telling me that he managed to implant a curse like this on the Hogwarts wards without you knowing?"
"Now see that is the point that has me confused, Harry," said Dumbledore. "A curse so diabolical and of such profound influence is not something that can happen on a whim. I had paid attention to his movements that night, and I do not believe he stayed at Hogwarts for any longer than say… five minutes. Just the amount of time it took to walk out of the castle."
"Surely a curse like this cannot be placed in such little time?" asked Newt.
Dumbledore shook his head. "To my knowledge, no. Even a curse a tenth of its complication would take several days of meticulous effort. No, what really worries me is what he mentioned close to the end."
"He asked you if you found anything worthwhile in the castle," said Newt.
"Hogwarts houses many mysteries," admitted Dumbledore. "Mysteries that have eluded even myself to this day. I am merely, shall we say, the wardholder to this castle."
Harry didn't look at the Headmaster or the visiting lecturer. Instead, he was frowning, wondering where this was leading to. He had absolutely no doubt that Voldemort was referring to the Sunken Vault, and if not, then one of the others.
But that still didn't explain one thing.
"Harry?" asked Dumbledore. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
Harry frowned. "Professor McGonagall mentioned something called the Dunamancy Guild. The study of probability and causation. Exactly what the curse is about."
"It is."
"And is Dunamancy something that necromancers study in general?"
The man's moustache quivered. "It isn't. Dunamancy is a gift, Harry. Much like parseltongue and being a Seer, you either have it or you do not."
"So even if Tom riddle had access to the wards of the castle that are somehow beyond your reach, he'd also need to be an expert on this… dunamancy?"
"I concur," said Dumbledore. "Dunamancy is perhaps one of the rarest magical talents out there, Harry. Legends say that queen Medb of Connacht was one. Daedalus, the Greek craftsman and architect, was said to be one as well. But scholars claim that Ravenclaw was perhaps the most powerful of all dunamantists in history."
"Ravenclaw…. You mean, Rowena Ravenclaw?"
"The very same," said Dumbledore. "It is sad that not much of the Founders is taught to the students. Rowena Ravenclaw, of the Ancient and Noble House of Ravenclaw, was regarded as the most powerful of all the four Founders. It is said that she knew what lay around the next bend, the right time and place to strike and when not to, which path to find treasure and which leads to danger. She would never know defeat for if there lay a single chance for victory, she would find it. For her, Chance was no longer a variable in battle. Every gamble was a guarantee, and every expedition a success. In fact, if not for her, the wondrous edifice that is Hogwarts, would have never even existed. To find the exact and precise construction, tying it perfectly with four ley-lines without the slightest possibility of error, was something that only Rowena was capable of. It's why to this day, the wards of Hogwarts are regarded as some of the strongest in the entire world."
Harry absorbed all that. He was already planning on reading as much as possible as he could about Rowena Ravenclaw and Dunamancy from the Lair. But that still didn't solve the puzzle.
"What are the chances that Tom Riddle was a duna—"
"None," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Tom Riddle held, and holds, a great many talents. But Dunamancy is not one of them. Much like is the case with Vessels, any budding dunamantist would be immediately conscripted as a Warlock, and the British Department of Mysteries would keep strict watch on them from the very beginning. It helps that the signs of dunamancy are obvious."
"Like… what?"
"A dunamantist is a person that is sensitive to the ebbs and flows of causality, Harry. With every single step, an infinite number of potential futures unravel, each of them having varying chances of becoming true. The sheer amount of information is simply too great and too profound for a budding dunamantist to make heads or tails of, and that affects their development. Erratic personalities, shortened attention span, easily excitable and emotional mood swings, being able to see things that others cannot…. Such are the symptoms of a dunamantist whose powers have gone erratic."
Harry instantly shot up, his eyes widening in surprise as he realised what the Headmaster was alluding to.
"Yes, my boy," said Dumbledore. "Miss Lovegood, is indeed, a budding dunamantist."
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