I own nothing but the plot.
"Albus!" Flitwick yelled. Dumbledore was screaming in agony as his finger turned black. With no time to properly analyse the situation, Flitwick did the only thing he could think of. "Diffindo!" he yelled. A laser-thin beam of white light amputated Dumbledore's finger, which flew away from the Headmaster, still attached to the ring.
Even after losing a finger, Dumbledore grabbed for the ring again.
"Stupify!" Flitwick cried out, stunning Dumbledore. The Headmaster dropped like a rock, lying face down on the shack floor. Horrified, Flitwick saw that even after being stunned unconscious, Dumbledore's arm stretched out to reach for the ring. Flitwick steeled himself and, envisioning the day his Grandfather banished him from the Goblin nation, brought up as much hatred as he could muster.
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, sending a flash of green light at the ring. A loud pop was followed by a thump as the entire shack shifted on its foundation. A crash rang out as something in the house fell over. With relief, Flitwick saw Dumbledore had stopped trying to get to the ring. His killing curse had destroyed the Horcrux and also taken care of the compulsion. Breathing heavily, he conjured a bandage for Dumbledore's hand and prepared to wake him.
"Two to me, Riddle," he muttered as he worked. "Two to me."
"Why on Earth did you put the ring on!" Poppy Pomfrey hissed. She wasn't happy to be woken at three in the morning to attend to a nine-fingered Headmaster. "It was obviously cursed!"
"It wasn't his fault," Flitwick said. "There was a powerful compulsion charm on it."
"Well," she said, examining Dumbledore's hand, "amputating the finger was the best thing you could have done. Halting a withering curse while keeping the limb... well, I've never heard of it done before. If it had gotten into the hand, you might have had to lose the entire arm."
"At least it's not my wand hand," Dumbledore said. "Thank you, my dear. If you don't mind, I'd like a private word with Filius before we all get some much-needed rest."
"I'm not inclined to allow it," Poppy said, "but I know you won't listen to me anyway. I don't want to see you out of bed till breakfast at the earliest, though." She gathered the potions she had treated Dumbledore with and returned to her office.
"Thank you, my friend," Dumbledore said to Flitwick. "I know that wasn't easy for you."
"I do wish it weren't necessary," Flitwick said. "The finger aside, I hoped for a whole Horcrux to test. This one might still provide some data for us, though."
"Tomorrow," Dumbledore agreed. "There's a new angle to explore, as well. If we can remove the Withering Curse, the ring may provide us with a source of intelligence into Riddle's past that we could never hope to access otherwise."
"I distinctly recall telling you about the hazards of becoming an Animagus," Professor McGonagall lectured. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were standing in front of her desk.
"You did, Professor," Harry acknowledged.
"I expressly forbade you from attempting this without my supervision," McGonagall said. "I cannot believe that you disobeyed me on this. Do you have any idea how badly this could have gone wrong? As pleased as I am that you managed it in only five months..."
"I beg your pardon, Professor McGonagall," Hermione interrupted, "but we did not disobey you."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?" McGonagall said, shocked.
"You didn't specify that you had to supervise us," Hermione clarified. "You just said we needed adult supervision. We had that."
"Sirius Black, I presume?" McGonagall asked.
"And me as well," said Professor Lupin from the doorway.
"You?" McGonagall asked in a hoarse voice.
"And Peter Pettigrew, too," Neville said. "We didn't start this until the Christmas holiday, so it wasn't five months. It was two weeks."
"That probably didn't help us, Neville," Harry whispered.
"Two weeks?" McGonagall hissed. She turned and advanced on Remus. "You subjected these children to some sort of experiment?"
"One proven to work," Remus said, "and we had their guardian's permission."
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"Very well," she said. "You seem to have closed any method I have of punishing them for the Animagus portion of this discussion. I want to see this new method of yours, and I want you, all of you, to promise me it will go no further. The last thing Hogwarts needs is to be overrun by a menagerie of monkeys, magpies, and manatees, all incapable of turning themselves back due to some ill-conceived shortcut."
"We will use it with Daphne Greengrass and Lisa Turpin in the summer if their parents agree, but we won't spread it beyond that," Harry agreed.
"Only if I agree this method is safe," McGonagall countered. "I am not inclined to allow this, and I doubt their parents will, either."
"Very well," Hermione said, knowing when to stop fighting.
"And there will be no further life-changing transformations without asking my permission!" McGonagall said sternly.
"Not if we can help it, Maam," Harry said.
"Now," McGonagall said with a tight smile, "since I can do nothing about you turning into Animagi without my help, we will turn instead to assigning your detentions for galloping through the castle well after curfew."
"Yes, Maam," Neville said, not looking sorry or ashamed in the least.
"Each of you will report Friday evening to the Transfiguration classroom immediately after dinner," McGonagall said. "You will each be writing a report detailing this new Animagus method. You will include all references you used, detailing any possible side effects or roadblocks this new method may introduce that might be mitigated by using the traditional instruction."
"Yes, Maam," they said. Professor McGonagall dismissed them, and they filed out of her office. Remus stayed behind.
"You know," he said when they were alone, "they didn't do it to spite you."
"I'm well aware of that," McGonagall answered. "My objection is not that they didn't come to me. I won't lie and say my pride is not bruised a little, but I am an adult and a teacher. You lot are closer to their age and their parents' age. You're more fun. What upsets me is that their fate rested in an experiment conducted by one of the most irresponsible collections of hooligans ever to walk the halls of Hogwarts."
"Were we really that bad?" Remus asked.
"Yes," McGonagall answered emphatically. "You actually were that bad. Not now, at least for you. You grew up, and I hope you'll notice I eased off them once you admitted you were a part of this. Sirius Black, however, was that bad. I trust you can be honest enough with me to admit that he was the impetus for this adventure?"
"Yes," Remus said, looking down. "It was his idea."
"It was always his idea," McGonagall sighed. "I would appreciate it if you did not repeat this conversation to him, but there is a reason that no one had any problems immediately assuming his guilt. His wrongful imprisonment should never have happened, and he deserves his freedom, along with every apology he gets and more. The truth is, however, that Sirius Black was responsible for more injuries during his time at Hogwarts than Quidditch was. He was often vindictive and cruel to those he targeted."
"Do you mean Severus?" Remus asked, "Because Severus started more than half..."
"No, I do not," McGonagall interrupted. "Severus Snape was just as capable of causing trouble as Sirius Black was, and it was not my choice that I had to work with him for far longer than you. He was little better as a teacher than he was as a student. He, however, was at least your equal. The ones I am referring to are those such as Bertram Aubrey. Do you remember him?"
"He was a Ravenclaw in our year, I think," Remus remembered. "Quiet, as I recall. We didn't talk much."
"Sirius and James received double detentions for hexing his head twice as large as it should have been," McGonagall reminded him. "Bertram had outscored Sirius on a test and had the bad luck to be overheard by Sirius bragging about it."
"Yes," Remus said, wincing. "I remember."
"Quite," McGonagall said. "Bertram was one of at least three people I know who changed their entire career path to avoid being put into NEWT classes with Sirius Black."
"I didn't know that," Remus said, shocked.
"Yes," McGonagall confirmed. "Bertram was excellent at Charms and Transfiguration. As I recall, he was planning to attempt an apprenticeship with a Charms Master and try to work as an enchanter for toys and magical instruments. He dropped both courses to become a potioneer instead."
"I didn't know that," Remus repeated.
"That was at the end of your fifth year," McGonagall said. "It was then that I realised, to my shame, that I was as guilty as you lot were. I allowed the behaviour."
"We always wondered why you were suddenly so hard on us sixth year," Remus said.
"I couldn't convince Bertram to change his mind," McGonagall said. "It wasn't just that one instance, you see. Sirius and James tormented him nearly that entire year. There were others they targeted as well. Once it became clear how large the problem was, I was determined to correct it, even if only after the fact."
"I suppose we never really thought very much about the aftermath of the pranks," Remus admitted.
"You eventually got better," McGonagall said. "We made you prefect in the hopes that the responsibility we now required of you would calm down the situation. While that plan didn't appear to work at first, I only had to threaten to take the badge away from you once before you straightened yourself out. Peter was always more at the periphery of your group, and as your behaviour improved, so did his."
"And then there was James and Sirius," Remus sighed.
"Indeed," McGonagall agreed. "While his first five years here were some of the most chaotic I've ever encountered, James was remarkably well-behaved in his final two. Of course, he had his family as a base of support. I came down on him hard, and Fleamont and I whipped him into such good shape that Lily actually agreed to go out with him in his seventh year. You know what she thought of him before that."
"She always called him an arrogant toe-rag," Remus said, grinning at the memory.
"Sirius, on the other hand," McGonagall sighed, "had no such benefit of a loving family. He was rebelling against them and, by extension, anyone who tried to contain him. While the rest of you knuckled down to your studies and, in the case of James, a relationship, Sirius nearly got himself expelled. As a parting prank, as I recall, he charmed the robes of the entire Slytherin graduating class to be sparkling pink at their graduation ceremony. This earned him detention every night until he left the school."
"I think Azkaban has been punishment enough for him," Remus said, coming to the defence of his friend. "He's not nearly as wild as he was in school."
"I agree, for the most part," McGonagall said. "As I have said, I am upset because he provided a shortcut to an already perilous process, with unknown consequences for the children if it went wrong. I am only bringing up your school history because you helped him do this, and I want to point out a pattern of behaviour in your history that I don't want you to repeat."
"I'll have a word with him," Remus said.
"Remember," McGonagall said, "regardless of your friendship outside of this school, you are to treat Harry Potter like any other student. I know it's difficult when relatives and family friends are attending school."
"I don't think I've been preferential to him," Remus said, "but I'll be sure to keep an eye on it."
"The what?" Filius asked incredulously. They were sitting in the Headmaster's office, staring at a black stone with a line, circle, and triangle etched into it.
"The Ressurection Stone," Albus answered. "I know, it's just an old children's story, but one that happens to be true."
"The Deathly Hallows," Fillius said, shaking his head. "I suppose you're searching for the Death Stick as well?"
"There is no need," Albus answered, holding the Elder Wand up.
"And the Cloak of Invisibility?" Fillius asked, staring at Dumbledore's wand.
"Safe," Albus answered, "and not in my possession."
"Well," Fillius said, "before we start experimenting with impossible and mythical objects from fairy tales and legends, I'd like to see what I can glean from the aspect of the ring we know to be true."
Flitwick pulled out the parchment they tested the diary on and placed the ring in the square of runes. Activating it, the two men waited as the lines filled the circle again. Casting the counting spell, Fillius read the result.
"One hundred and eighty-eight," he said. "One less. I don't know whether I should be glad we are right or dismayed. How did he split his soul that many times?"
"I don't believe he intended to," Albus said. "All of my research indicates he was interested in a seven-part soul."
"Seven would be bad enough, but one hundred eighty-nine is far afield of that goal."
"One hundred ninety," Albus corrected. "The diary was already destroyed when you tested it."
"So if he didn't do it on purpose," Fillius speculated, "then how did it get split so many times?"
"We need to go to Godric's Hollow. I think it's time we examined where he was defeated."
"When you've recovered," Fillius countered. "We should take some precautions."
"Perhaps a bit more research first?" Albus suggested, gesturing to the ring. He picked it up. "We should probably start with someone on our side or someone neutral. We don't want to risk word of this spreading."
"If this stone does what you say it does," Fillius responded, "we really, really don't. Assuming this stone is real, whom do you think could help us?"
Albus turned the now de-cursed ring three times and said, "Abigail Cole."
Bill Weasley was very thankful for the mild January temperatures in Cairo. The hot season was only a few months away, and he was enjoying the cooler temperatures while he had them. Some of the traps the old Egyptians had left behind would trigger if exposed to latent magic, so air conditioning charms were forbidden. This made the cooler months the busy season for curse breakers in this part of the world.
Bill had learned a lot working as a curse breaker for the Goblin bank. Gringotts had contracted with the Egyptian government for years to undo the deadly traps and curses on the tombs in the magical section of the City of the Dead. He was currently working with a rookie named Jim Hawkings. They were unravelling a desiccation curse on a tax collector's tomb entrance. It was a very tricky job. Whichever ancient priest had laid down this curse really didn't want tomb raiders gaining access. There was evidence it had been triggered numerous times in the past, and it was still as lethal as ever.
While Bill was unravelling the curse, Jim was holding the light. Bill pointed his wand at a junction point in the panel of hieroglyphs. Just as he was using a cutting curse to sever the linking chain between the power source and the curse's trigger, he heard a scraping of shoes as someone came up from behind. Jim jerked his wand around, depriving Bill of his light source. He had already started his cut and immediately knew he'd gone too far and cut into the trigger.
"No!" Bill yelled. Jim turned the light back to the panel, and Bill stared in dismay at the crack he had ploughed straight through the entire sequence instead of neatly cutting the power line. Fortunately, he wasn't shrivelling to a crisp, so Bill had at least managed to disable the trap he was working on. A groan emanated from behind the panel, pointing out that he now had to contend with the tax collector himself.
The panel sections collapsed, revealing holes that fired arrows at the intruders. Bill deflected these with a shield charm, but Jim wasn't as fast. The new curse breaker screamed as an arrow embedded itself in his leg. Bill grabbed Jim's arm and dragged the rookie back as the wall collapsed, sending huge chunks of sandstone landing right where they had been working. In the room the panel was protecting, a sarcophagus was now visible. It opened, revealing a mummy shuffling to its feet.
"Stupify!" Jim yelled out, pointing his wand at the mummy. The red spell splashed against the wrappings but didn't stop it.
"It's already dead!" Bill yelled. "Reducto!" Bill's face fell as his blasting curse went through the mummy, impacting the coffin behind it. The curse left a hole in the mummy but didn't stop the old corpse from rambling toward them.
paCHOW! A blast of red light flashed past Bill and Jim and slammed into the mummy. It staggered back and started to slap at the wrappings around its chest, which the red light had set on fire.
paCHOW! paCHOW! paCHOW!
Three more blasts of red light impacted the mummy, knocking it down and burning through its torso. The mummy's attempts to extinguish the fire slowed, and it stopped moving. Bill looked back towards where the red lights had originated. An angel in white robes stood in the tomb entrance holding what looked like a black muggle pistol.
"Hello, Bill," Ice said, putting her blaster pistol back in the shoulder holster her robes concealed.
"How did you find me here?" Bill asked. He had escorted Ice back to his tent, trying desperately to ignore the leering eyes of his Goblin coworkers.
"I asked," Ice answered. "The Goblins weren't very cooperative initially, but I insisted."
"You insisted?" Bill asked, shocked. He had never heard of the Goblins giving information out on a dig site before, and the more insistent someone was, the more stubborn they were about saying no.
"How did you get here?" Bill asked. "Did you bring your... space plane... thing?"
"No," Ice laughed. "The Goblins gave me a portkey. That wasn't very comfortable, by the way."
"What are you doing here?" Bill asked. He gave up trying to figure out what Ice had done to convince the Goblins to give her access to the site. "Do they need me at Hogwarts again?"
"I've left the Troopers, Bill," Ice said.
"You've left? Why?" Bill was surprised. When he met her, she seemed like she wasn't interested in anything but being a Trooper.
"What do you know about what happened at Hogwarts?" she asked.
"I know there ended up being both Gorgons and a Basilisk," Bill answered. "Unfortunately, Ginny was involved, somehow. The family hasn't given out too many details. I think they didn't want it to be generally known, and they didn't trust the mail not to be read. I know that many people were petrified, and some died."
"I was one of the ones who got frozen," Ice said softly.
"I'm sorry," Bill said. He looked her over. She looked a lot more feminine in the flowing robes she wore. The armour he had previously seen her in really didn't emphasise her figure at all.
"It wasn't like anything I'd seen before," Ice confessed. "I've been a Trooper for a while now. I joined up when I was seventeen. I've faced all kinds of enemies and fought in countless battles. That thing? The Gorgan? It was different. I've never felt so powerless. It made me question everything - my abilities, my instincts... everything."
"What happened?" Bill asked.
"We were guarding the corridor you and I checked out," Ice explained. "That wave of fear they reported suddenly swept over us. We saw four of the Gorgons slithering down the hallway. They froze the Commander, and we shot two of them. The other two dodged everything we shot at them and disappeared into the school. They came back a few minutes later. One of them was dragging a girl behind it by her hair. I think that was your sister."
"Damn snakes," Bill muttered.
"I didn't even get my weapon raised again," Ice said, ashamed. "One of them shrieked at me, and I was frozen. I couldn't move at all. I tried to break free of it, but it was useless. I was useless."
"You remember things after you were petrified?" Bill asked. His parent's letter said the victims were unconscious through it all.
"Every second," Ice said. "I could feel my body locked up. My muscles refused to respond, but I could feel everything. I was aware of everything - the sounds around me, the panic in the other Trooper's voices as they fought. I was powerless to help them. I couldn't do anything. I could see, but my eyes couldn't move. I couldn't blink. I couldn't move, couldn't scream. It was like being trapped in ice, but worse, because I could think. I could think, but I couldn't act. And the worst part... I didn't know if it would ever end."
"Was it like that for everyone?" Bill asked.
"No," Ice answered. "They all reported darkness. To them, it felt like waking up from a long sleep. I think I was the only one who was aware. I haven't told anyone but you. I didn't want your healers to be poking and prodding at me more than they already were."
"That sounds... beyond terrifying," Bill said. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like. How long were you petrified?"
"Two days," Ice answered. "It was only two days, but it felt like years. They had to fly to South America to get the potion that reversed the petrification."
"They couldn't get it from Italy?" Bill asked.
"No," Ice said. "According to the Troopers who went to go get it, your Professor Sprout had a contact in some country called Argentina who already had a supply of the potion brewed. They'd save time by buying that than by buying the plants and brewing the potion."
"So you spent two days petrified but conscious and able to see and hear everything," Bill said.
"They woke us all up," Ice said, "but the memory of being frozen stayed with me. I couldn't shake it. Every time I closed my eyes, I was bas back there. Frozen. Helpless. It compromised me. I couldn't be a liability for my squad. So... I resigned."
"Leaving the Troopers was brave, Ice," Bill said. "You made the hardest call anyone could. But you're not powerless. You survived it. And if you need help facing those memories, you're not alone."
"Well, that's why I'm here," Ice said, smiling. "I didn't want to be alone."
"Why me?" Bill asked. He hoped he wasn't being stupid by asking that, but he needed to know.
"You're about my age and seemed interested," Ice answered. "Was I wrong?"
"Not at all," Bill said. Ice wrapped her arms around him. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"I grow tired of waiting," Traag Kabacus said into the comlink.
"We cannot find him," Klang said to his brother. "These creatures we're using are unpredictable. We send them out each full moon, but we cannot aim them."
"Then why are you using them?" Traag asked. "Surely there are other methods at your disposal?"
"I'm not going up against a Jedi directly," Klang insisted. "We need confirmation of his location before we can commit to a landing."
"You've had months," Traag complained, "and you have nothing to show for it."
"We've confirmed his apprentice is here," Klang protested, "we just can't confirm Kendet is."
"Then take the apprentice. Kendet will follow."
"I'm not going up against a Jedi. Not even a miniature one. I need a way to aim these creatures."
"I grow impatient," Traag growled. "I will not wait forever."
A/N—Well, that break lasted longer than I wanted. Life keeps happening and keeps me busy, as it is wont to do. Adult ADHD is also a thing. I've reignited my interest in this and am writing again.
If anyone is worried that I will be bashing Sirius or anything, I won't be. I'm just describing how a teacher would have seen the Marauders' antics.