1997, in the Scottish Highlands
Albus strode through the makeshift village his forces had built, nodding at most of those who greeted him, ignoring a select few. It was odd to call it a 'village', it was more like the ramshackle remnants of one, but he liked to keep a positive nomenclature about him. This burgh had once been home to the thirteenth largest population of magical people in all of Britain, but everyone who lived here had either been invited into the lands closer to Tom's base of power, or exterminated in the purge that came after those invitations were accepted.
What few buildings that remained standing were doing so by luck and on a timer. If it weren't for the spells and rune schemes cast on them, many would've already fallen. It was a delicate balance to maintain structural integrity and camouflage. Several people, none more so than Molly Weasley, had tried to convince him that they should clean up a little, but Albus was reticent to let them disturb anything besides what was absolutely necessary. Much more taxing on his forces' minds were the replica corpses they'd made to replace the ones they'd buried.
Every little detail could be their saving grace, though, so they remained.
He pushed open the door to his and Harry's 'shack', and stepped into the extended interior with a grimace. Harry was sitting on a sofa reading the grimoire he'd given him, a cigarette pinned between his fingers, and the acrid smell almost made it easier for Albus to prepare himself for what he was about to do.
Their home was 'cozy', and served as both the rebellion's council chambers and his and Harry's office. There was a table that had once been a part of another building's wall in the middle. A muggle clock was magically fixed to one of the walls. Various rugs were littered around the floor, bookshelves that looked like their carpenter had been drunk were lined along one of the walls, and a literal barrel served as a water basin in the corner of the room. At first his apprentice had been confused as to why the decor was so chaotic and hobbled together, but that was on purpose. It served as a reminder to the others that this was temporary. Inspiration to remind them that someday they would have proper homes once more, and something to soften the blow when they no-doubt lost this one.
"Hey, Professor," Harry said without looking up from his book. "How'd things go?"
"Worse than I'd hoped, better than I feared," he answered. "The goblins are unwilling to move with us, but their objections should be simple enough to handle."
"Good." His apprentice stood, stuck his cigarette in his mouth, then drew his wand and used it to magically tuck his grimoire back onto a shelf. "So what's next?"
Albus turned and began making his way to the central table of their home. There was a motley collection of seats situated around it, and he took his usual rocking chair as Harry plopped into the plastic lawn chair beside him. As always, a cup of steaming honey-cocoa appeared before him. He offered a silent thanks to the former Hogwarts' house elf who had delivered it, and began to gently blow on its surface.
"Nothing came up while you were gone," Harry said, blowing a cloud of smoke away from them. "Snape popped in then ran away as soon as he saw it was just me."
"Mm," Albus acknowledged. "I won't live forever, Harry. You should attempt to build bridges with the man before it's too late."
"Yeah, yeah." His apprentice looked away. "What was it you told me? 'People can always be bound, and it is up to them whether it requires silk or chains.'?"
"Severus does not require 'chains' to be bound to your will, Harry." Albus knocked the last knuckle on his index finger against the table, and the corner of his apprentice's eye twitched. The early stages of the Pavlovian response he'd been building in the young man. "Is your ego worth the benefit of losing a willingly-helpful potions master? When our forces are dying and there's one less elixir to go around because he wasn't going above and beyond, will you nurse them on your pride instead? Comfort them into the next adventure with assurances that you got one over on that 'greasy git'?"
"…No, sir," Harry half-whispered. "I'm sorry."
"What do you think about those spells?" Albus asked. "I know most aren't what we need at the moment, but some I find myself using quite regularly."
"The spells themselves aren't a problem," Harry answered. "I barely made it a quarter of the way through with how weird it's written. Can't even skim the damned thing."
"It'll get easier when you have more experience with the eighteenth-century English," he said gently. "For now just focus on making note of which workings you believe will suit you best, and we'll go from there."
"Well, how about this."
Harry took a deep breath, lifted one of his hands into the air, then slid it horizontally over their table. Slowly the surface began to change from a battered and half-painted barnside into a more proper, solid bit of wood. It started on the section closest to the two of them, then spread out till the whole piece looked like it had come from seven, perfectly even and grooved planks of oak. Albus ran his hand over the recently transformed table, and the part of him that was still that greenhorn transfigurations teacher nodded in pride at how smooth the surface was.
"Well done." He snapped his fingers, and returned the table to its previous, more purposeful state. "Your wandless magic is nearly as good as your silent now."
"That's the point," Harry agreed. "Wish that greasy git would hurry up and figure out how to make ibuprofen though. Kills my head."
Albus chuckled at the call back to his earlier lecture, and Harry grinned at the approval. "It will get easier in time, unlike dealing with Severus if you don't shape up."?
Harry rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yeah, yeah."
"Again though, Harry," he said, settling his smile into something smaller and hopefully more meaningful. "I'm very proud of you. You've improved by leaps and bounds, and it does my heart good to see you flourish so."
His apprentice's grin grew softer and more bashful as well. "I won't let you down."
There, that should've put the teen in the mindset Albus needed.
"Mm," he hummed . "In the meeting we're about to hold, you're going to have to volunteer for something. I wouldn't ask it of you if it weren't necessary."
"Okay," Harry agreed. "What is it?"
There was a knock at the door, right on time. He couldn't give his apprentice time to over think the actual mission.
"Just remember your invisibility cloak when you insist on going." Albus waved his hand to allow their guests to enter. "Welcome, everyone."
His advisors began to fill in the spots around the table. To his right was Harry, of course, and beside him was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry's friend Ron was standing behind the man, reaching for the half-smoked cigarette Albus's apprentice offered. Further down were Alastor Moody and Sirius Black, the former was chiding the younger man over something, no doubt fruitlessly. Opposite of Albus directly was Severus, who wore his usual scowl at being seated so close to his most hated enemy. On the other side of the table was Filius, who was arguing with Hermione behind him and Remus Lupin beside him over some rune scheme the three were working on. Finally, to Albus's direct left, was his former assistant headmistress, Minerva.
"Thank you for coming," he said, quieting the room. "I've just met with Coppersneer and Goresnag, and I have both good and bad news.
"They will not move with us. They claim we're too weak-willed, and that they can't trust humans in a war against other humans." A believable enough lie. "Which is good news for us. We simply need to prove to them that our mettle is no less than their own."
"The fuck else can we do?" Sirius asked. The one quality the man had, besides being Harry's godfather, that kept him in closed door meetings like this was his candour and predictability. "We're already popping heads and burning the dead."
"Morbid rhymes aside, I believe they need to see it for themselves," Albus said. "They divulged that they're planning to take out a small pocket of Death Eaters they discovered trying to scout out their location. We need to beat them to the punch, and show them just how vicious we can be."
In all actuality they'd been more than happy to accept the offer of friendship and alliance, and it was only when Albus asked for a tip on Death Eaters that they told him about some scouts they'd found. He'd promised them a show if they kept a close eye on the splinter cell, and they'd agreed to be on the lookout.
This move would serve as a warning to them should they think of betraying his forces.
It would toughen up Harry and push him further into becoming the man he needed to be.
It would result in seven less Death Eaters in the world.
He kept his eyes down at the table, as though he was feeling shame or guilt from having to say such things. It had been a long time and a long war since Albus last felt such regret. The lesson had cost him the lives of countless loved ones, and it was one that he wished to pass on to his apprentice before such things had to happen to him as well.
The drums of war could only be played with the twin batons of bloodshed and sacrifice, after all.
"What did you have in mind?" Minerva asked. "Specifically."
"The goblins are keeping an eye on these Death Eaters at all times. We'll send a single agent to kill them all," Albus said. "They must act with brutal efficiency, treat our foes like nothing more than cattle in a slaughter."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry draw in a puff of his recently returned cigarette, its cherry-tipped end glowing bright. The teen was doing a poor job of hiding his confliction, but Albus knew he'd do what he'd been told. He just needed one more push—
"I'll do it." Albus blinked and looked over to Alastor, realising he'd missed another person entering the room. "Where are they?"
Neville Longbottom was standing behind the former auror, looking almost as ragged as Harry himself. Long gone was the baby fat he'd carried around for most of his youth, in its place were muscles and hard angles. He'd shaved his head down to the pate, a precaution forced onto him by Alastor no doubt, and although he was trying to hide it he was clearly nursing some sort of wound on his left side.
Albus cleared his throat. "That—"
"Absolutely not," Harry said. "I'll go."
"It's too dangerous," Neville argued. "You can't risk it."
"Yeah?" Harry shot his friend a look. "I'll duel you for it."
Albus winced. That was too hard a hand; it was unnecessary. Harry stared Neville down as he took another long draw from his cigarette, finishing it off before putting it out on the bottom of his shoe. The former headmaster prayed that his apprentice's teenage bravado would fade sooner rather than later as the other boy looked away, giving in.
"He's right, we can't risk losing you," Alastor chimed in, coming to his own apprentice's defence. "The only ones who should be going are me, Black, or Flitwick."
"I'll be fine. We're going for efficiency," Harry said. "I'll wear my dad's cloak and…"
'Don't. Hesitate.' Albus wished his apprentice could hear his thoughts. 'Act unstoppable.'
"And I'll do it quick and quiet. When they're sleeping," Harry eventually continued. He pulled his knife from his pocket, flipped it open, and stabbed it into the table. "No magic. That's the kinda thing goblins like, ain't it?"
The teen turned to Filius, who was gazing down at the blade with a sombre expression. "It is. Are you sure about this?"
"Nope." Albus held back a wince. "But I'm confident I can get the job done. Just… You know…"
"We believe in you, Harry," Albus said. He hated having to step in, it wasn't good for the boy's image, but lacking surety would only do worse damage. "And what you do is necessary."
"Right."
Wanting to move things along, Albus asked Severus about how the latest experiments on antivenom were coming. As the meeting proceeded through the more regular notes, he kept a careful eye on his apprentice. The teen had on his mask, a neutral expression that betrayed nothing of his thoughts and feelings, and was staring at the knife he'd plunged into the table. He wasn't bouncing his foot up and done, his mouth was stock still instead of mouthing some conversation in his head, and his breaths came smoothe and silent. All the nervous ticks Harry had once had were gone, broken under Albus's tutoring.
Eventually things petered out, and he dismissed his council with a wave. Harry immediately got up and approached Neville, wrapping an arm around his former classmate and muttering something in his ear. Good. He recognized his mistake.
"Albus." He spared a glance at the lone soldier who hadn't filed out with the others. "What are you doing?"
Remus Lupin was staring at him, eyes hard and jaw set. Albus frowned. "What I must."
"What you 'must', huh…" Remus reached over and jerked Harry's knife free from the wood, folding it closed before running his thumb along its handle. "Harry—"
"Is going to have to learn," Albus interrupted. "We can longer allow him the mercy of mercy."
"Why?" Remus demanded. "He's seventeen for Merlin's sake! Still trying to figure out how the hell to shave without cutting himself and now you want him cutting other people's throats?"
"I want nothing less." He stood and straightened up to his full height to meet the werewolf's stare, but Remus didn't flinch. "It is still a necessity. And just as he needs to shed his naivety, so too must you give up on your hopes for reconciling his future."
"Excuse me?"
Albus finally looked away. That wasn't a thought he'd fully explored, fully defined, fully come to terms with himself. Perhaps now was the time to do that. He slowly settled back down in his rocking chair, transfiguring it into a more stable bit of furniture as he sighed.
"This war isn't anything like the first one, Remus," Albus said. "You know that. Do you really think we're going to witness some new miracle, some new deus ex machina that takes Tom off the board and gives us time to strike?
"Even when we win this war, because believe me we shall." Always remind them of that. "The world will never be the same. The chaos that has been wrought has left untreatable scars everywhere we look. We fight not for ourselves, and not for Harry and his generation, but for those who are yet to come."
The former professor grimaced and looked away.
"I wish it weren't so, I would sacrifice anything and everything to make that happen." He took a deep breath. "And so I shall. Whether it be Harry's innocence, your respect, or even my own morality; I will burn it all to save the world."
"Harry—"
"Would do the same." Finally Remus looked away when Albus met his eyes. "Go and ask him. Ask him what he wouldn't give to put an end to all of this."
"It's not right," the younger man half-whispered. "None of this is."
"No it is not," Albus agreed. "Which is why we must do whatever we can to fix it."
BBaRtS
Chapter 64.1
So I looked into tenancy laws where I live, and as it turns out, if the lease expires without a new one in place you just switch to a month to month pseudo-lease that operates on the same terms as your previous lease, until the landlord serves you with eviction papers. At this point I'm hoping/praying my landlord just got a new phone number and forgot my lease was up or something, because I don't mind paying just $1050 a month for rent and no utility payment. No matter what though, if I wake up on 3/1/24 with an eviction letter in my mailbox, I'll still have that whole month to find a place to live, so I'm not dealing with full blown panic attacks anymore.
My problem is I'm a doomer, which is weird cus I'm also an optimist? Basically, I always assume the worst has happened or will happen, but I also assume I'll be fine/come out the other side okay. Dread has been setting in ever since the start February, I've been feeling worse and worse and worse, but I'm still just like "I'll figure something out. Buy a van to live in and get some sick hotspot plans for internet so I can work, it'll be fine." Knowing now that even if I do get undeserved eviction paperwork I'll have a month to move out has been a godsend to the freak-out part of my brain, but the logical half is still telling me I need to be prepared and won't let me get back to a usual flow.
Still, I'm spending my time working on cleaning my apartment up and getting my finances in order, so this was just something I wrote up today while 'at' work (I work from home.) This section is 100% cannon (as in cannon to this fanfic) but isn't like, hyper relevant to the story. I just wanted to write in the downtime of my job and this scene came to mind. If people don't like this/don't want to get notifications with little filler-nuggets like this, I'll stop doing it, otherwise I'll post things like this randomly during this time. Part of it is just because I like writing, part of it is because I still feel guilty over having to go on hiatus when I genuinely want this to be completed.
Still not going full review-reviewing, but I am reading them all. Thank you all so much for the support in this trying time (I hate that that expression has been abused to death, 'this trying time', it makes that sound corny.) Again though, if y'all don't want this 'filler arc' happening, just let me know and I'll keep these shorts to myself.
Also, I did the opposite of what you should if you got a taste for the taste, and wrote this sober and edited it drunk, so sorry if it's rough.
Love you all, thank you all for the support, lessthanthree.
