The Cloak of Invisibility

'Can't believe you sneaked into the headmaster's office,' said Remus with a sneer at James. 'I know as a group we've done our fair share of sneaking around, but the Big Man's office? Really? Have you no shame?'

'No no, you don't understand, Moony,' said James hastily as he paced around their dormitory, and waved off Remus' words. 'Yes, I sneaked in after Professor McGonagall – and yes, it was improper of me to do so, I'll admit. But what I discovered in there is much bigger than my proneness to break the rules. You see, it's no secret that McGonagall and Dumbledore are good friends as well as colleagues, so I figured, maybe, she would know more. And she does, because when I went up there after her, she found a letter. And she didn't just find it in the drawer of his desk, she found it in one of his weird silver instruments. The instrument was shaped like this.' James grabbed the quill from Peter's hand that he had been using to write a letter with, and drew the symbol of the Deathly Hallows onto the back of the letter. He held it up for his three friends to see.

'The Deathly Hallows,' said Sirius. 'You've confided us about that, with you being a descendant of Ignotus Peverell and having his Cloak of Invisibility and all. But what's it all about?'

'Dumbledore left McGonagall a letter inside a book that was inside that Deathly Hallows shaped instrument,' James continued to explain. 'The book being a rare first edition of Tales of Beedle the Bard. The copy was signed by Albus Dumbledore in the margins. The A of Albus shaped like the symbol. This means that Dumbledore did not just defeat Grindelwald back in nineteen forty-five, he was a part of it. Not against it, but a part of Grindelwald's movement.'

'And how can you be so sure about that?' asked Remus, looking sceptical. 'It's a very serious accusation about a man who has done and given so much to the Wizarding world.'

James stopped dead in his tracks. 'Because of the bloody letter Moony,' he spat and growled in frustration. 'Please, just – listen. In the letter, Dumbledore stated something about having to return to the "mysterious" place he hailed from, and about having to see Grindelwald again, because they're cut from the same cloth, or something like that. And he also wrote about having to depart through the Great Lake. Like it acts as some sort of portal to another place. Like a giant Portkey of some sort.'

'But,' said Peter while raising his finger up in thought, 'I thought Grindelwald was defeated. How could he possibly be seeing Grindelwald again?'

James' eyes turned to slits and leaned forward. 'Yes, defeated, Wormtail. Not killed. Not deceased. Defeated, you blithering idiot. Grindelwald is not dead. He's imprisoned in a place where he was meant to be forgotten to history, and now Dumbledore is heading over to him, Merlin knows why, to release him from his shackles, and they will travel through the Great Lake, together.'

'Tone it down Prongs,' snapped Remus as he gave a pat on Peter's back in reassurance. 'I see where you're going with this. Do you think that this is what happened to Lily and Snape? That they've gone through the Lake somehow and ended up elsewhere?'

'I don't just think it,' said James darkly, 'I know it. Dumbledore knows there's more to the Lake than he's telling us – because he's from there. Wherever there is. Whatever Grindelwald's story is within all of that, I do not know. But I think Lily and Snivy didn't just disappear in the Lake – they left it. And wherever it is that they have gone, it is important enough to Dumbledore to abandon the school during these troubling times and return to the darkest wizard who has ever lived. I think he's gone to bring them back.'

'This is a lot,' said Sirius as he bobbed his head along with every word James had said. 'But now what? You have all this information, but what is it you want to do with it? Find Dumbledore? Join him on this mysterious trip of his somehow?'

'Oh, I don't know.' James groaned loudly and slumped down on his bed. 'I had hoped to find some answers, but all I got were more questions than ever.'

'Prongs,' said Peter timidly. 'Perhaps you just need to go to McGonagall and talk to her about this.'

'And admit I was in the room with her when she read that letter?' James answered with a raised eyebrow. 'I might as well have a death wish written on my forehead.'

'And bring your Cloak,' Peter added with a bit more confidence. 'It is as you said. Dumbledore and McGonagall are friends. She was there was Grindelwald rose to power, and she knows more about the symbol, or she couldn't have found it among all his instruments. Bring the Cloak, and I think she will answer.'

James looked up at the ceiling. 'Perhaps you're right,' he said. 'It's just – the Cloak is meant to be this big family secret. And I mean big. The fact that the three of you know about it isn't something that my father would be pleased about, and that is putting it mildly, if he found out.'

'But do you not think that this is bigger than a family's secret?' asked Remus.

'That's the thing,' said James. 'It's not just any secret. It is a piece to the secret of defying Death. A piece that should never come in touch with the other two. What I fear, is that the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand may have been found somehow. The risk is simply far too great. But this is not all that I have noticed in Dumbledore's office – there's something else that might be of importance.'

'And what would that be?' asked Remus, baffled that there was more to James's absurd story.

'The Sorting Hat's gone,' said James. 'I've heard the Hat sing enough songs about sitting on a shelf in Dumbledore's office to know that it wasn't there. I got a feeling Dumbledore took it with him.'

'Are you absolutely positive it wasn't there though?' asked Sirius. 'The good man's bound to have a lot of a stuff in there. You sure it's not locked way somewhere?'

'The Hat is sentient, Padfoot,' answered James. 'It has a mind of its own and locking it away would be cruel. But still, I don't know. I just found it odd that it wasn't there – and perhaps you are right. Maybe the Hat is somewhere else, and it doesn't have to mean anything that I didn't see it. Things just don't add up anymore. It's frustrating, and I'm more confused than ever.'

A silence fell over the four friends in the common room, all deep in thought on what James had discovered. Far down below the Gryffindor tower, on the castle's grounds, was Professor Slughorn wading his way through the fallen leaves of the season. The Great Lake was faintly illuminated by the waning moon, and the stars could be seen in the dark-blue sky. He knelt by the edge of the Lake where he had last seen his favourite students. 'Expecto Patronum,' he mumbled into the air with a gentle wave of his cedar wand. A silver goldfish sprouted from the tip and jumped gracefully into the water. It swam around in a circle, and then it dove down, its light vanishing in the deep. 'I am sorry,' he whispered to the water, and tears rolled down his cheeks. 'I am so, so sorry.'

…o0o…

After finding the mysterious white flowers in the garden, and crying her heart out, Petunia had returned inside and joined the parents at the dinner table. The name had surpassed her lips as a mere whisper, in the same way it had barely surpassed her sister's lips, as she told them the story of Lord Voldemort and his rise of power in the wizarding world. On how Lily feared having to go into hiding after graduating from Hogwarts, and how she had been worried sick about Severus, for he seemed to have found a safety net in a group of friends who were bound to become followers of this new Lord. Gasps of horror had followed, and tears of defeat when learning that war was once again upon them, and what it meant and did to their children.

Tobias had been right. Severus was radicalising. Pushing away the very person he loved most in the world, and was replacing her with a false sense of belonging and an empty promise of safety. Tobias had stormed out of the house at this point, mumbling insults at his son, at his own failing, and at the insolence of the wizarding world.

Petunia, too, had left the dinner table and made her way to the quiet seclusion of her bedroom, her head bowed down in shame at the betrayal of a sister's promise. Erwin, who could not bear the silence that followed at the dinner table, disappeared through the backdoor. Arnica and Eileen were the only ones left, still cradling the tea in their hands Petunia had made for them.

'What happened to your wand, Eileen?' asked Arnica. Eileen had expected a lot of comments to be fired at her. About the many ways that she had failed as a mother to protect her son, and about the obvious reasons he had been looking for a safe place to go after graduation from Hogwarts. Why she was still married to Tobias despite everything. Or not knowing anything about the imminent threat rising within the wizarding world – when she really should have known. But instead, she was asked a question that did not emphasise her failing, but rather one for her own concern.

'It was snapped,' Eileen answered, holding her head up high, 'as I mentioned before, for renouncing my heritage.' Eileen found there was both pity and worry to be found in Arnica's eyes, and it made her uncomfortable knowing she was seeing right through her. 'I haven't been able to use my magic since the day Severus was born,' she added after a pause, feeling defeated under Arnica's gaze. 'I know it is not the right thing to say, but a part of me died the day that he came. It's not that he was unwanted – none of that.' Tears had started welling up in her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force them back in. 'It's just that – when I held him for the first time, I knew that he was never going to get the life that he deserved to have. And it broke me. All I could do was cry and cry over how unfair and unkind this life would be for him. And I never wanted that for him, I never –'

Eileen's voice was silenced by a lump in her throat. She covered her face as tears leaked through the cracks of her fingers. By the scraping sound of a chair, she could hear Arnica had stood up from the table, and a moment later two warm welcoming arms were wrapped around her shoulders. Arnica, too, was crying. 'My wand was snapped,' said Eileen, her voice raw and forced from emotion, and filled with the guilt of confession, 'because I snapped it. I snapped it on the day he was born, because if I hadn't, I would have ended his life. I renounced my heritage that day. It's why I renounced it all.'

…o0o…

Alatar had released Pallando from the confines of Nurmengard, and together they had travelled their way up North. Getting there had been the easiest part. Now standing by the Three-Country Cairn on the hill of Muotkavaara, in the light of the setting sun, they were ready to make their way to Lake Evettijärvi between the mountains, where Durmstrang's ship was harboured in secret.

The howling wind of the North was beating around their faces. Their cloaks rippled like waves on the water, and the pinewood forest around them swayed along. 'The air is thick with magic,' said Pallando. 'This school and its ship are well hidden. Cloaked and veiled under many ancient charms.'

Alatar looked far into the distance, pondering on what their next step would be. 'More magic than ever before,' he said grimly. 'Throughout its history, Durmstrang has been deeply secretive of its location, and has been even more so since the Winter War broke out between Finland and the Soviet Union. To avoid any political meddling with the affairs of Muggles, they went even deeper into hiding. Not even the school's own students know of its exact location, as their memories of their arrival are erased when they depart.'

'I have never known you not to think ahead,' said Pallando. 'Either you are withholding your ideas from me, or you have yet to form the final step hereon.'

'There is nothing to withhold,' Alatar answered without tearing his eyes away from the lake ahead. Young Headmaster Karkaroff is a skilled wizard – not to be underestimated – but naïve in the ways of Muggles. Too proud to learn about their ways – and too involved in the Dark Arts, for he is a servant of Lord Voldemort. He will have hidden his school well from the likes of me, not understanding that it is not his school nor the knowledge it contains that I wish to enter.'

'What is it you are implying, Alatar?' asked Pallando.

'The ship is hidden in the fog,' Alatar explained. 'It is why I cannot see beyond the shore of the lake. But we must cross it, for we will surely find the ship there. I think it's time for Winter to come early.' Alatar pulled out the Elder Wand from the inside of his robe and held it up high in front of him. He made his way towards the edge of lake with Pallando following closely behind. Once they had reached the edge, he stuck the tip of the Elder Wand in the water. Around it, the gentle waves of the lake came to a halt, and ice in intricate patterns started to form. With loud cracks the ice kept expanding and expanding, until it suddenly came to a halt with a loud and growling rumble. 'We must make haste,' said Alatar as he pointed the Elder Wand at their feet, and mumbled a charm that would prevent them from slipping on the ice. 'It will not take long before the school is alerted. Run!'

Pallando took Alatar by the hand as they started running across the lake. They were swift; their aged bodies betraying that their spirits had not aged along with it. The thick fog that lingered over the frozen lake engulfed them, but they kept going, as something from inside was guiding them towards their goal.

They felt they must have reached the middle of the lake, for high above the fog, a bowsprit came into view. Beyond it, the foremast waved its black sails in a menacing way. Dim, misty lights shone through the gunports, and the hull looked skeletal, as though the ship was resurrected from the sea long ago. With a gentle wave of the Elder Wand, Alatar summoned the rope ladders that were hidden on deck, and they climbed their way to the top.

The low echoing sound of a large foghorn could be heard. No doubt a warning sign coming from Durmstrang that intruders had arrived, and soon the cracking sound of spells being fired at them followed. They hasted their way across the quarterdeck, and Alatar took a hold of the captain's wheel. The wheel could not only be moved port and starboard side, but also up and down. 'We'll have to sink through the ice,' said Alatar as he pushed the wheel down as far as he could go. 'Hold on tight!'

The breaking of the ice ran like cannonballs blasted through the lake. The ship sunk fast; its sails acting like a veil to keep the water out while the deck remained dry. Once they were completely submerged under water, Alatar brought his mind to the bottom of the Great Lake of Hogwarts. The light of the setting sun vanished, and darkness engulfed them until they hit the sandy bottom of the place where his two students had vanished. 'We've made it,' said Alatar, and raised up the Elder Wand. 'Lumos Maxima.'

Pallando, who had been holding on to the mizzenmast for dear life, looked around. All around him was a darkness that not even Alatar's wand could light in full. Shadows of the creatures of the depth swam above them, and only the waves in the sails could be heard. 'And how do we go on from here?' he asked.

'From here we set sail for The Straight Road,' said Alatar. 'The last to have done so was the mariner Ælfwine of England, who discovered the Road by accident and arrived in Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, where he was taught much by the Elves on Eä at the Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva, the Cottage of Lost Play. It was Círdan who told me the story of Ælfwine, and of the Road he had sailed, for it is only Elves and Ring-bearers, both current and former, who can follow it. He gave me Kémya right then and there.'

'The foresight of Elves is clouded in mystery,' said Pallando with great disproval. 'If you know the Road, then I believe we should not linger here longer than is necessary. It's time to set wind in the sails.'

Alatar fumbled around in the inner pockets of his robe and pulled out the old Sorting Hat. He dusted it off and placed it on top of his head, and took a hold of the captain's wheel with a firm grip. 'We must go West until West becomes East,' he said. 'We shall travel through the deepest waters, and through the very curvature of sky and space. The journey will be long – and it will be magnificent.' The sails turned with the rolling of the waves. The light from the tip of the Elder Wand faded, and the ship moved forward in the darkness until it reached the Atlantic Ocean.

From above, a whisp of a silver goldfish had been swimming its way down to the very depth of the Great Lake. When it found nothing but sand at the bottom, it dissolved into nothingness, never knowing it had arrived but a moment too late.

A/N Fun fact! Tolkien never considered himself to be the author of The Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings, or any other Middle-earth related works. He considered characters such as Bilbo, Frodo, Pengolodh, Rúmil of Tirion etcetera (loremasters if you will), to be the authors of the story, and considered himself to be a mere translator of their books (by translating Westron a.k.a. Old English to modern English).
Very early into Tolkien's writing, he created Ælfwine of England (In the Book of Lost Tales). Ælfwine (the Elves named him Eriol) was a descendant of Eärendil (the half-elven Mariner and father of Elrond and Elros). Ælfwine was born in 869 AD, and after much turmoil in his personal life, decided to sail West. Days after he passed Ireland, he passed out and sailed The Straight Road (a route that left Earth's curvature through sky and space) to Valinor. He arrived in Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, on the eastern coast of Aman. When he awoke, the elves found him and brought him to Pengolodh, loremaster and Sage of the Ñoldor. Pengolodh showed him his books and taught him the history of the Elder Days. When Ælfwine returned to England, he translated The Silmarillion, The Annals of Aman and Beleriand, and the Children of Húrin into Old English.
This early work of Tolkien and the appearance of Ælfwine are considered are part of "pre-canonical" stories, which were meant as a fictive prehistory of England.

But more simply put, Tolkien considered England and Middle-earth (the whole of Arda, really) to be the same realm of existence. It's essentially a mythological pre-history of the World, with an emphasis on England. This is how and why I can connect the two worlds together.

A/N An overview to make some terms clearer;
Eru Illúvatar = God the All-Powerful. He created Eä and the Ainur from his thoughts.
Eä = the name for The Universe
Arda = The earth. Aman and Middle-earth are continents on Arda.
The Ainur = The Holy Ones. Encompassing both Valar and Maiar. They dwell in the Timeless Halls, which is a realm beyond Eä. The Ainur created Arda though the Ainulindalë. The Great Music, which was taught to them by Eru.
The Valar = The Powers of Arda who shaped the world. They lived in Aman. They were eight of the fourteen Ainur. The fourteen Valar originally dwelled in Almaren. A hidden island on the Great Lake.
Maiar = lesser spirits created by Eru to serve the Valar. The five wizards are Maiar, as well as Arien and Tilion who hold the sun and moon, amongst others. Balrogs are corrupted Maiar. Not all their names have been revealed, and therefore Goldberry being a Maia is only speculation.

A/N Pottermore: "Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, 'you will never fool the cedar carrier,' and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them."

Slughorn is notorious for having a knack for judging a person's character, talent and (future) success to a T. It is therefore not a surprise that his greatest shame lies in the misjudgement of Tom Riddle's character.

A/N The Winter War between the Soviet Union and Finland happened in 1939-1940 when the Soviet Union invaded Finland with large numbers and still got their arses kicked by a bunch of frost resistant Fins.