After the quidditch match, Hogwarts fully entered the countdown to exams. Hermione was strangely chilled out about it, compared to the previous year. Between her nearly-photographic memory from Intelligence 20, Harry's ability to do practical work at a NEWT level, and Ron actually doing well in classes from his own points put into Intelligence and time in the library, she didn't have as much fear of them doing badly.
She still overprepared. It just wasn't nearly as intense as what she did for first year.
Consequently, she didn't immediately freak out when Harry revealed he had to miss the study session she'd scheduled for their Tuesday afternoon, midway through May. Tuesdays only had classes in the first two periods for the second-year Gryffindors (and an afternoon optional flying period), so it made up the bulk of their library time. "Why?" she asked, simply, expecting her time to be stolen by Wood cutting his own classes to drill the quidditch team.
Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore wants me to go on a field trip, and Remus and Sirius said it was worth it. I imagine he'll explain on the way."
He went straight to the old man's office after second-period history, and gave the candy-themed password of the day. The whole thing seemed rather unnecessary, given that the gargoyle was clearly intelligent enough to pass word that a guest had arrived and then move when the headmaster ordered it. Probably someone trying to sneak in by listing off the names of all the candies they could think of would find that there were additional lines of defense.
"Ah, excellent timing, Harry," Dumbledore said as he walked into the office. On his perch in the room, the headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, had finally reached a beautiful young adulthood after his rebirth earlier in the year. "I thought we might pop over to London for lunch and to introduce you to some colleagues."
"Sir?" Harry simply asked.
The old man gave a wry smile at his enjoyment of being cryptic, but admitted, "I hate to worry you, but I've received information that worries me. Suffice it to say, I think we may need to accelerate our pursuit of objects similar to the diary and diadem. In addition to trying to organize some allies, I believe that the old headmaster of Slytherin may have information he could share about how young Tom learned to make the objects in the first place. And, I hope, some clue as to how many he planned to make."
Harry just nodded, but asked, "Why do you need me?"
"Horace is, well, fond of being seen as a mentor to the best and the brightest. He will likely be very keen to make your acquaintance."
"Ah. A fan," Harry grumbled.
"More a maven, if you will," Dumbledore corrected. "He prides himself on being well-connected, and helping connect others to their best benefit. Perhaps he enjoys the reflected fame too much, but he does provide a valuable service. If all Slytherins bent their cunning in such a way as to help others while helping themselves, we'd be the better for it as a society."
"Okay. So, meet this guy and be nice. Do I ask him about the horcruxes or you? Should we bring Ron or Lee? Twenty Charisma might really help here."
"Hmm, a fair point, but sadly I think he would have to spend extended time with either of them before he cared enough about their opinions for their question to land. Perhaps if I need to extend an offer of employment to get him to open up, they'll have next year to work on him, but I'm rather hoping that we can simply get the answer."
"What would he teach?" Harry checked.
"He was the old potions master."
"I vote we hire him!"
The headmaster sighed, "I rather thought your relationship with Severus had improved?"
"He's been less awful since I started turning in perfect potions," Harry admitted.
"Well… honestly, Remus isn't keen to test the curse and Severus has wanted a chance to demonstrate his understanding of the dark arts… but let's call that Plan B, shall we? I might still see fit to rehire Horace, but I'd rather not wait months for this key information."
"Got it," Harry agreed.
"Very well, shall we? Oh, please be ready to don your cloak when we emerge. It wouldn't be ideal to be seen letting underage students out to lunch on a school day."
Harry nodded again, ready to swap his cloak on as soon as he exited the floo and really hoping his maxed-out agility would prevent the falls he'd had the first few times he'd traveled through a fireplace. Dumbledore waved his wand (he was no longer using the Elder Wand, but a sleeker one that was likely his own original bonded wand) to open the floo, and waited for Harry to proceed. "Diagon Alley!" Harry enunciated clearly this time, as he stepped into the green flame after throwing in the powder.
The trip through the fire was just as harrowing as the first couple of journeys, and he still sprawled on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron as he exited. At least his Agility allowed him to immediately spring back to his feet. He didn't think anyone had really seen him as he threw the cloak from his inventory onto his cloak slot.
Dumbledore appeared behind him in moments, gracefully stepping free of the fire with nary a hint of being off balance. Harry was jealous. "Ah, headmaster," Tom the barman called. "Thought something might be wrong with the fire. Could've sworn it flared double."
"I didn't notice any issues on my end," the old man elided, seeming to have a sense of where Harry was despite the cloak. Harry still hadn't figured out how he was pulling off that trick.
"Staying for lunch? Rush hasn't started quite yet?" Tom gestured to the bar, which was basically empty.
"Afraid not, Tom. Having a quick meeting in the alley."
"Well, good luck to you then, sir," Tom allowed, going back to puttering at the back where he was preparing food in heaping quantities for the patrons sure to start flowing in soon.
They walked out the pub's "back" door and Dumbledore negligently traced the bricks of the wall that caused it to open into the Alley proper. Not even glancing back to be sure Harry was following, the old man walked at a sedate pace about halfway down, stopping at Knockturn Alley. Well, stopping for the ice cream parlor, it turned out.
Albus Dumbledore replies: Florean Fortescue has been experimenting with a small gourmet restaurant.
The ice cream cuisinier himself showed Dumbledore upstairs. Harry had assumed the upper floors were all living space, but he followed the two men into a level that had been converted into small dining rooms, and into the one overlooking the Alley. Already seated in the fairly intimate dining room recently redone in a fairly modern style (especially for Wizarding Britain) were a witch and wizard. She was a dark-haired woman that was probably several years older than Sirius, her features forgettable, especially in the face of her vibrant green shawl. He was dark-skinned and bald, and likely a few years younger than the original Marauders.
EMMELINE VANCE
Duelist, Level 13
[ORDER OF THE PHOENIX,
GLOBUS MUNDI,
GRYFFINDOR]
KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT
Auror, Level 12
[ORDER OF THE PHOENIX,
MINISTRY OF MAGIC,
GRYFFINDOR]
"We are expecting two more guests, Florean," Dumbledore explained. "If you could show Horace up when he arrives, it would be appreciated. I imagine the last will find his own way."
Albus Dumbledore replies: I felt it wouldn't hurt to build your mystique. You can reveal yourself when he leaves.
As soon as Fortescue had left and closed the door behind himself, Harry moved the cloak back into his inventory. "Ms. Vance. Auror Shacklebolt," he greeted the two. To their credit, neither even flinched at the Boy-Who-Lived suddenly materializing in the room.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Vance nodded.
"Mr. Potter," Shacklebolt acknowledged, simply.
Clearly assuming that Harry could pick up most of the context about the two members of his Order from their tags, the headmaster explained, "Emmeline graduated a few years earlier than your parents and was one of my staunchest allies in the war. Kingsley had not graduated before the end of hostilities, but has been of great help watching for signs of renewed problems in the intervening years."
"And my participation might not be theoretical for much longer?" the auror asked.
"Sadly, no. But, let us sit. Harry, my boy, please inform us if Florean is about to enter or if our guest has arrived."
Harry nodded and took the seat next to Vance that Dumbledore gestured at. The old man himself sat between the two Order members, leaving the last chair to sit between Harry and Shacklebolt. It gave Harry a good look out of the window onto both Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, but he understood that the implication was for him to watch his map and make sure nobody overheard secrets.
Trying to figure out how much information to parcel out as he settled himself, the headmaster finally explained, "Voldemort's shade infiltrated Hogwarts last year, possessing poor Quirinus. While that attempt at rejuvenating himself was foiled by Harry and his friends, I have intelligence that he may have found another route. To wit, the dark marks that had faded upon the Death Eaters are regaining their color."
"Severus," Vance rolled her eyes. "I still don't know how you convinced him to spy for you."
"Snape was a Death Eater?" Harry blurted out. As soon as he said it, it made perfect sense, but he still reserved the right to be offended.
"Alas, that some poor choices in youth cannot be easily undone," Dumbledore shrugged. Seeming slightly annoyed that Vance had clued Harry and Shacklebolt in on his spy, he explained, "But he has confirmed with others that it isn't just him. The tattoo that denotes his allegiance had faded upon Voldemort's apparent demise, but has recently darkened."
"Macnair and the Carrows!" Harry put together. "That's what they were talking about over the winter hols. Their tattoos were darkening too."
"Just so," the old man furiously covered, Harry not having informed him of that particular encounter but wanting to seem like he had already known about it.
"Walden Macnair!?" Shacklebolt asked, having encountered the man at the Ministry. "No. Nevermind. That makes perfect sense." Neither he nor Vance seemed at all surprised that the Carrow siblings were Death Eaters.
"I do not yet know how he is returning," the headmaster explained with some reticence, "but my suspicion is that it may be the doing of Peter Pettigrew. Who was the spy within our ranks," he explained to Vance. "Sirius Black is innocent, and is currently helping us along with Remus Lupin."
"That also makes sense," she shrugged, the elaborate green scarf flexing with the gesture.
"And, thus, my goal today is to get Horace to reveal any information he might have, as Tom Riddle's old head of house, about the mechanism by which Voldemort's return is possible," Dumbledore concluded.
It turned out to be perfectly timed, as a new dot had entered the store and Fortescue's started moving with it in their direction. "They're coming," Harry warned.
"Right this way, sir," Fortescue was saying, as he opened the door into the small dining room and ushered in a tremendously fat man with a bald head and mustache almost as expansive as his gut. Harry was certain he must be a walrus animagus.
HORACE SLUGHORN
Potioneer/Magister, Level 17
[SLUGHORN APOTHECARIUM,
EUROPEAN POTIONEERS,
SLYTHERIN]
"This is your entire party?" Fortescue confirmed, seemingly only slightly nonplussed at Harry being present. He covered whatever shock he had with handing out menus. "I'll have water brought up shortly. Please take your time with the menu."
"I hope I'm only fashionably late," Slughorn said, settling himself into the empty chair.
"Barely even that, Horace," Dumbledore waved off. "You're right on time. The rest of us were early."
"Excellent, then," the former potions professor said, his waistcoat straining against his bulk as he settled himself. "I'm pleased Florean listened to my advice that he could do so much more than ice cream, and have been waiting to try this." He perused the menu while trying to look nonchalant about the company. "Em and Shack, it's a pleasure to see you both again. It's been too long," he greeted. "And, if I'm not mistaken, this is young Harry Potter? It can't be a Hogsmeade day because it's a Tuesday."
"He's had a trying year," the headmaster explained. "Defeating a basilisk and an ancient dark wizard. Some small reward seemed in order."
"I read about all of that," Slughorn allowed. "The Quibbler seemed to be ahead of the Prophet for once. Am I correct in assuming that Xenophilus and Pandora's daughter is a classmate, at this point?"
"Luna Lovegood started this year, yes," the headmaster explained, for Harry's benefit.
"A great shame about Pandora. She would have been great. Too many witches I've mentored never lived to reach their potential." The new arrival fixed Harry with a look of great sympathy, "Lily was one of my greatest joys to teach."
"You knew my mum?" Harry asked. Dumbledore had held onto that fact precisely because he knew how bright the boy's expression became at discovering someone that might have more stories about his parents.
"Certainly! She and young Severus Snape had the friendliest rivalry I've ever seen staying at the top of my class." The large man suddenly shifted gears and declared, "I think I'll hazard that expertise in ice cream is transferable to the rest of the lactic arts and try the fettucini alfredo. What is everyone else having?"
Horace Slughorn was a brilliant conversationalist, especially over a meal. As they worked their way through ordering and eating their lunches, he recalled stories of Vance's senior project trying to learn to knit runes, Shacklebolt's happy accident with a pepper up potion that resulted in him staying up for three days with no ill effect through finals, the early days fifty years prior in which Slughorn and Dumbledore vied over the house cup, and a half dozen anecdotes about Lily Evans' potions brilliance and James Potter's pranks in his class.
They'd had a lovely meal, and were most of the way through a very nice dessert of pie topped with Fortescue's finest ice cream when Dumbledore finally managed to segue into the real topic of conversation, "...of course, it was only thanks to young Harry's quick thinking and a fang from the basilisk he'd killed earlier that he managed to defeat Ekrizdis."
"Oh?" Slughorn asked, drawn in by the tone of secrets being shared. "I took it from the papers that you were still keeping that detail mum."
"Well, only because we obviously don't want the means of Ekrizdis' longevity being investigated by just anyone. Those who already know of that grim secret, however, could, of course, be informed of the mechanism."
Slughorn gulped his last spoonful of candied pineapple ice cream down as his mind finally added everything up, "No! I certainly wouldn't know anything about dark magics of that kind?"
"It's not a big deal, sir," Harry shrugged. "Just because you know about them, doesn't mean that you'd be crazy enough to want to make one."
"You told children about this?" the potioneer asked with only a smidgen of feigned outrage.
"Given that he's had to destroy two so far, and captured another for study, it seemed essential," the old man shrugged, then sprung the trap as Slughorn nodded. "What we need to know is how many more he's likely to run across."
"I'm frankly surprised he's found three!" The former head of Slytherin tried to dance his way out. "Three wizards mad enough to take such a route?"
"I'm sorry, but it was only two, sir," Harry corrected. "One for Ekrizdis. But two for, well… you know who." He was using tact! Not making people he was buttering up flinch from saying Voldemort was tact! Ron would be proud.
"Albus! I feel like I've been done poorly! It sounds as if you're accusing me of something?"
"Merlin!" Vance tagged in. "All we want to know is whether you have any idea how many of the damned things Tom Riddle planned to make, so we can know if we've gotten them all! No one's accusing you, we just hope you know enough that we can close the book on this madman before he manages to come back."
That caught Slughorn out. The fear of Voldemort's return and the seeming offer of amnesty percolated through a mind a bit sluggish from a wonderful meal and he hazarded, "Hypothetically?"
"You know I consider you one of the most brilliant teachers ever to pass through Hogwarts, Horace," Dumbledore laid it on a little thick, concluding, "Your hypothetical is better than a lesser mind's certainty."
Glancing over to make sure that the auror in the room looked totally at ease, Riddle's former head of house toyed with his long mustache for a moment before pretending to speculate, "Obviously I must take you at your word that he's made more than one, which should be enough for any madman. The next stable magical number would be three: two of the damnable devices and the remainder of the soul with the body. But I suppose you have two and you suspect more?"
"I do," Dumbledore said. He didn't even glance Harry's way, so fixed was he on his old colleague. Harry was a little curious how he was sure they didn't have the only two.
"Were someone insane enough to make more than two… well… I'd speculate that they might attempt the next magical number and have a seven-part soul. Six such devices." He sighed, a bit of relief at the information finally being spread was coupled with horror at the realization that Tom Riddle had done it. "The next stable number would be thirteen, and even the gravest madman wouldn't consider the phenomenal risk of slicing his soul that thinly. I'd hypothesize."
"Thank you, Horace," the headmaster said. "That was my surmise as well, but it's helpful to have my work peer reviewed by someone of your competence."
"Of course. Always happy to consult, old bean," Slughorn nodded, forcing his mien of charm back on.
THE DEATHLY HALLOWS (MAIN QUEST)
What does it mean to be mortal?
O Collect Voldemort's Horcruxes (2/6)
* Destroy the Journal
O Destroy the Diadem
O Destroy the Locket
O Fulfill the Prophecy
O (Optional) Collect the Deathly Hallows (2/3)
Harry took that in, then passed along the information.
Whisper to Albus Dumbledore: Another main quest. I'll tell you more about it later, but the Sight text says the next horcrux is a locket.
The old man simply sent a nod Harry's way, the information not seemingly something he needed Slughorn for. Harry was also going to find out what this prophecy was, when they talked. As the headmaster made more small talk to smooth over the trap he'd sprung, Harry simply stared out the window, thinking about the terms of the quest. What was the prophecy? Was he meant to use the Elder Wand? Could they manage to complete this quest before Voldemort showed up again?
What was someone that was supposed to have died in Azkaban's fall doing alive and in Diagon Alley?
"Um, guys?" he interrupted some discussion about sourcing candied pineapple and pointed out of the window at the slender, cloaked figure that was furtively moving into Knockturn Alley, walking from the direction of Gringotts. Her name was clear as day over her head. "I'm really sure that's Bellatrix Lestrange."
BELLATRIX LESTRANGE
Blackguard, Level 15
[DEATH EATERS,
SLYTHERIN]
"Let's go," Dumbledore instantly ordered Vance and Shacklebolt, who might have been inclined to waste time asking how Harry could possibly be that certain about a woman in a hood on a random Tuesday.
Vance knew the tone, and was already moving, reminding everyone, "Can't apparate in the alley." While that protection had frequently been broken during serious Death Eater raids, it at least usually protected against hit-and-run attacks from lone murderers. And made it possible to chase down thieves and other criminals as they tried to reach an apparition point or a working floo.
"Then neither can she," the auror agreed, already out the door and pounding down the stairs.
"I'll just wait here, then," Slughorn said, not all the way freaked out about a supposedly-dead Death Eater at large, at least while there was some of the pie left.
Shacklebolt was young and fast, and Vance was pushing 40 but still athletic enough, so both were already on the move before they could consider ordering Harry to stay back. And Dumbledore merely warned him, "Be careful. Don't become her target. She's very dangerous," as the Boy-Who-Lived passed him on the stairs. If it turned into a foot chase, they'd likely leave the old man far behind, but he was the Order's battleship. The Death Eaters knew well that the longer they were tied up in one spot, the more chance that Dumbledore would show up and be ready to end the fight.
Bellatrix knew it better than most, but she didn't have any reason to expect that the auror charging her way was a member of the Order, let alone had backup so close at hand. She only recognized Shacklebolt from the occasional tour of duty at the prison. She wasn't yet feeling her best, after a month and a half recovery from a decade of dementor exposure, but figured she could take out one young auror who had rumbled her for some reason.
"Little Shack wants to play?" she singsonged as she retreated into the shadows of Knockturn Alley, drawing her wand and stowing her precious cargo better so she was free to move.
No one could mistake that unhinged voice, so Shacklebolt was suddenly fully on board with Harry's identification. He dodged a cutting curse and moved to the edge of the alley, while announcing, "Lestrange, you're under arrest."
"Nope. Did that. Wasn't fun. Crucio," she fired off a spell that had the few passersby on the street screaming and running as the auror pulled back behind cover to dodge the Unforgivable.
"Didn't think you'd still have that kind of curse in you, Bella," Vance taunted, having flanked to the other side of the alley. The two were of an age to have obviously hated one another at Hogwarts, much less after years of facing one another in the war. "Incarcerous!"
"Diffindo," Lestrange idly cut the conjured ropes in midair, before she was snared. She fired off a couple of wordless spells to keep both crouching for cover as she bantered back, "You're one to talk, Emmy. I hadn't heard anything about you so I assumed you finally fell over and died. But I can help! Confringo!"
The blasting curse took out a huge chunk of brickwork on the corner of the alley that Vance was hiding behind, forcing her to dive for cover from the explosion, shrapnel, and any follow-up spells that now had line of fire. Lestrange was enjoying getting to cut loose for the first time in years, though the still-mad but tactically-oriented part of her mind was telling her that the number of enemies was growing, Vance had always been a skilled opponent and might have learned something in the last decade, she didn't know Shacklebolt's capabilities, and even if she could beat the two there might be more.
She began to fall back, barely failing to notice the flicker of feet under a cloak and the sound of footfalls as Harry ducked spellfire and moved past her.
SNEAK CHECK SUCCEEDED
The Gryffindor in Harry wanted to join the spell duel. He'd been training for it all year, after all. But the part of him that realized that he was basically playing party thief at the moment reminded him that surprise attacks tended to come with a substantial bonus.
"Stupefy!" he incanted, putting all his effort into the spell, from about three yards behind Bellatrix's back.
To her immense credit as a duelist, she almost dodged. If he'd been any further back she would have, since she'd started moving on the first syllable, recognizing that she'd missed an opponent. She just didn't realize that one had gotten so close, as she'd checked her back repeatedly and there wasn't anything behind her moments earlier except the wall. And even as the stunning spell hit, the woman was so bloody minded that she might have hung onto consciousness and pushed through. But she'd whirled to face Harry, and her dodge turned into a drunken stumble as she partially suffered the stunner. Which exposed her back directly to Vance and Shacklebolt, whose follow-up spells took her all the way out.
300 Combat XP Awarded
"Your dad's cloak," Vance nodded, as she cautiously approached and confirmed the woman wasn't just playing possum. "Good casting for a second-year."
"Dangerous," Shacklebolt chided, realizing that he'd have had a hard time explaining that he'd let the Boy-Who-Lived get killed by an escaped convict in broad daylight. "But, yes, thanks for the assist."
Dumbledore finally strolled up, the entire fight having only taken the time it took him to make it down the stairs, out the front, and across the street. "He's a young man of many talents. Now, let's see what caused her to risk so much to come out in public."
Shacklebolt rolled the unconscious woman off of the bundle that she'd been protecting, revealing a satchel that clinked and revealed a substantial amount of gold as he lifted the flap. "Must have gone to her Gringotts vault. Leadership is going to go spare when they realize the goblins are letting criminals walk right in without alerting us. Huh, not just money, some kind of keepsake, too. I'll just enter this into evidence…"
Harry was worried when he saw the auror casually reaching in to touch the large golden cup that had been revealed under the galleons, and was more so when he saw the combat log.
Golden Cup uses Suggestion on Kingsley Shacklebolt: Success
"Stop!" Harry warned, actually risking physically shoving the auror out of the way before his hand could make contact. "It's a horcrux!"
"It can't be, it's clearly an important piece of evidence," Shacklebolt argued, though he wasn't so far gone as to attack a child over it.
"I'm afraid it must be," Dumbledore concurred, stepping forward and putting a hand on the auror's shoulder to keep him from getting close again. "Another of the founders' artifacts corrupted, if it's Helga Hufflepuff's cup, as I believe. I shall endeavor to be pleased that we've had the good fortune to recover another, rather than aghast at the defilement."
THE DEATHLY HALLOWS (MAIN QUEST)
What does it mean to be mortal?
O Collect Voldemort's Horcruxes (3/6)
* Destroy the Journal
O Destroy the Diadem
O Destroy the Cup
O Destroy the Locket
O Fulfill the Prophecy
O (Optional) Collect the Deathly Hallows (2/3)
It was Vance who voiced the important question, "If that thing was safe in her Gringotts vault, we'd have had a very hard time getting it. What was so important that she needed to move it?"