LUX IN TENEBRIS LUCET (ORIGINAL VERSION)
CHAPTER 7:
PRESSING ISSUES AND ISSUES WITH THE PRESS
The present day.
Alma looked at the ring curiously. It seemed so innocuous at first glance. At once, it was beautiful and ugly. The gold band was beautiful, but the stone with the strange marking on it left her uneasy. And there were dark auras, plural, to it. One had the familiar smell of a Horcrux, specifically Voldemort's, about it. The others were presumably curses.
Earlier, Alma and Dumbledore decided that they were going to let the fake Mad-Eye Moody stew a bit, before going in to find out what he was planning. Dumbledore wanted to use Veritaserum on the impostor, as he warned that, without someone to stand trial, things might get ugly.
Harry was with her in Dumbledore's office, looking at the Ring. "So…this used to belong to Voldemort," he said, somewhat unnecessarily. The Gaunt Ring featured heavily in what he had of Voldemort's memories. He also knew better than to touch it, given that he knew that there was more than one curse on it. "What's that symbol on the stone?"
"The coat of arms of the Peverell family," Dumbledore said gravely. "Known throughout the Wizarding World as the sign of the Deathly Hallows…or the symbol of Grindlewald."
"That's the wizard you defeated back in World War 2, isn't he?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore nodded, before adding, gravely, "Alma knows what I'm about to day, but you don't. Grindlewald used to be my best friend…before we had a major falling-out. Grindlewald took the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, and perverted it, like his allies in the Nazi Party perverted the swastika, once a symbol of good luck, into a perpetual symbol of the vilest evil(1). Many in Durmstrang are repulsed by the sign of the Hallows." With a gesture, he conjured up a blackboard, and drew the same symbol, a triangle with a bisected circle within. He then broke it into its component parts: a triangle, a circle, and a line. "But the sign of the Hallows has endured better than the swastika, and it has meaning, for those who look. Do you remember The Tale of the Three Brothers?"
Harry nodded. He had devoured that copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard that he had bought in Diagon Alley. "So the Hallows…they're the three artifacts Death gives the three Peverell brothers?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed. This is certainly something you might wish to share with Miss Granger. Whether the Hallows are truly the work of Death, I cannot say. It is probably more likely that the artifacts themselves were created by a master or several masters, whose craft has long since been forgotten. How true the legend is is another matter entirely, and perhaps a discussion for another time." With his wand, he tapped the triangle. "That represents the Cloak of Invisibility, sometimes known as the Peverell Cloak, which, unlike other Invisibility Cloaks, will not fade or diminish with time."
"My cloak?" Harry questioned.
"Indeed. At the time I had borrowed it from your father, I was both studying it to see whether it was truly the Hallow, as well as using it to keep other members of the Order of the Phoenix safe," Dumbledore said. He then tapped the circle. "The Resurrection Stone, which can call back the spirits of the dead to communicate with the living. But it cannot bring them back forever, or as anything more substantial as a shade. It is this stone, I believe, that is set in that ring before you."
"And the line is the Elder Wand?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed. I have a confession to make. While I am a very powerful wizard, much of my power for the past few decades comes from another source." He toyed with his wand pensively. "One that I won the allegiance of by defeating Grindlewald."
Harry's eyes widened. "Your wand…that's the Elder Wand?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, quietly. There was even an undercurrent of shame in that word. "This is something I would rather you not discuss openly, Harry. The Deathly Hallows are coveted by more wizards than just Voldemort. Alma already knows the gravity of the situation where the Hallows are concerned. Few people desire the Cloak of Invisibility, compared to the regrets they could assuage with the Stone, or the power they could wield with the Wand."
"Maybe," Harry said, before his gaze returned to the Gaunt Ring. Only, it wasn't there anymore, not on the plate it was on. Alma was holding it, cradling it in her hands while the other two were distracted. A half-formed warning on both Harry and Dumbledore's lips died when they realised the ring was floating in mid-air, surrounded by a dark field of energy. Alma was concentrating on it.
Suddenly, something within the ring seemed to break, and a shrill scream of pain emanated from it, eerie and haunting. Black smoke, briefly taking the form of an agonised face, puffed from the stone. Another flash, and the ring hurtled towards Dumbledore, who instinctively caught it, only to drop it, believing that he may have touched the cursed object.
It's fine. The curses have been removed, Alma said. I removed those first while you two were discussing the Hallows. I got bored waiting.
Dumbledore blinked, staring at the teenaged girl, before bending and picking it up gingerly. "That was a foolish thing to do, Alma."
You wanted me to remove the curses and the Horcrux. I have done so. The Resurrection Stone is yours. I have no interest in it. She stood. I believe I will go and get some rest. Are you coming, Harry?
"In a moment, Alma," Harry said. Alma nodded, and left, far from offended. Harry had been kept out of the loop with some of Dumbledore's memories, although he did understand why. Alma also knew the question he wanted to ask the Headmaster.
As Alma disappeared in a cloud of petals, Dumbledore sighed. "I'm amazed she can do that. It's virtually impossible to Apparate within Hogwarts unless you're a house-elf, or a phoenix."
Fawkes trilled an agreement.
For a time, they sat there, until Harry plucked up the courage and spoke. "Professor…why do you want the Stone? Who do you want to see?"
Dumbledore didn't answer at first. But just as Harry opened his mouth to say "Never mind," Dumbledore did speak.
"In our first year, Harry, when we discussed the Mirror of Erised, you asked me what I would see in the Mirror."
"You said you see yourself holding a pair of socks," Harry said.
"Yes. I have to admit, I was rather facile then. True, I do need socks far more than people give them to me, but it wasn't the truth when it came to the Mirror at all. And to tell the truth, what I am to tell you isn't all of what I see in the Mirror. But I do see my younger sister, Ariana, alive and well. She died in…bad circumstances. The very circumstances that drove myself and Grindlewald apart, after so long being friends. I do not wish to speak any more on the matter, Harry. If you wish, I can lend you the Stone, and you may speak to your parents, perhaps."
Harry stood. "I'll…consider your gracious offer, Professor. And thank you for answering my question."
The next few days were something of a whirlwind. Alma and Harry received a mixture of both glares and admiration, with Alma also getting more than a little fear mixed in. While she would be lying if she said it didn't affect her, she was able to tolerate it. But her threat had merely increased the fear and loathing Hogwarts students, along with many of the visiting students, felt towards her.
She attended classes, and was a quick study in many magics. Perhaps she had been a witch after all, and Armacham had gotten the wrong end of the stick. She found Charms to be a particular favourite, partly because they were often fun, and partly because she liked the vivacious and enthusiastic personality of the diminutive teacher, Professor Flitwick.
Transfiguration was one of her poorer subjects, though: an attempt at turning an orange into a cricket ball as a demonstration only served to make the orange rapidly decay and melt. She sheepishly told McGonagall that her only real skill at transfiguration was turning things into decayed and molten versions of themselves. McGonagall was, understandably, far from amused: she had been one of the witnesses to the aftermath of the troll incident, after all. The only amusement McGonagall got, in fact, was the fact that Alma Wade, a witch of such destructive power, few in the world could match her, was capable of looking sheepish, even with her grey skin and orange eyes.
Ron had remained sullen and jealous. Alma could tell from his thoughts that, by this point, it was less about Harry having deceived every one, and more about his humiliation and Harry not standing up for him. Alma regretted damaging the friendship between Harry and Ron, but her loyalty was solely to Harry.
Of course, there was another source of annoyance. Draco Malfoy had become industrious, making badges to support Cedric Diggory, but also charming them so that they could read 'POTTER STINKS' at will. Outside Potions, he demonstrated it. Alma told Harry and Hermione to be quiet, mentally, as she had an idea. With a thought, she reached out, and twisted the charm. Instead, it said 'DR DRACO MALFOY', and underneath it, a particular surgical specialty. Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, and Alma couldn't help but smirk evilly.
Draco stared at the badge. "What in Merlin's name is a colorectal surgeon?!" he yelled.
At that point, Snape made his appearance, gliding in. He noted the smirk on Alma's face, and glared, but looked at the badge. "Mr Malfoy, a colorectal surgeon is a type of Muggle Healer who deals in matters most…alimentary," Snape purred smoothly. Alma couldn't help but admire Snape's snark.
"Ali-what?" Malfoy demanded.
"Bowels, Mr Malfoy! Surely you are an expert?! Without them, we cannot digest. Without them," he added pointedly, glaring at the gathered students, "many imbibed potions and antidotes would not work. Inside!"
The last word was nothing less than a command, and the students shuffled in.
As it turned out, the lesson was mercifully brief for Harry and Alma. Snape looked ready to either get Harry or Alma to be a guinea pig for antidotes. But Colin Creevey came in, asking for Harry and Alma. Snape, with the worst possible grace, allowed them to leave: it seemed that Ludo Bagman required their presence.
Before they left, Harry and Alma very pointedly left not only vials filled with antidote they had brewed earlier, but the recipes. Snape glared, but said nothing else.
Alma wasn't really fond of Creevey. She remembered him basically being a fanboy, fawning over Harry, just as Ginny used to. Colin got petrified by the Basilisk, and Ginny got mentally molested by a Horcrux. It was only when they found the Diary that they were able to stop it. Unfortunately, Lockhart decided to cock things up after that. But Colin Creevey was harmless.
She noticed, after he was chatting to Harry, that he was looking at her rather shyly. A bit fearfully, but his emotions had far less of the hatred she had felt from the others. Yes? she asked.
"Harry said…you were the one who killed the Basilisk that year." Hesitantly, he said, "Thank you."
Alma couldn't help but smile. You're welcome.
They were led to a small classroom that had been commandeered for the purpose of this ceremony, the Weighing of the Wands. Alma had no concern that she had no wand. Instilling a bit more awe in these cretins would be enjoyable. She recognised the paunchy and overgrown schoolboy-like Bagman, and the other three Champions. Viktor Krum was sitting moodily in a corner, aquiline and broody. Fleur Delacour, with her beautiful silvery-blonde hair and refined, ethereal features. Alma felt a small pang of jealousy at the French girl's effortless beauty. And there was, of course, the darkly handsome Cedric Diggory.
Alma noted the presence of two others that she hadn't seen or met before, or even heard of through Voldemort's memories. But the woman had the look of someone in the press, and lurid tabloid press at that. Her eyes narrowed. This was going to suck.
She wore magenta robes that seared at the eyes, and curly hair. Her eyes peered out from behind jewelled spectacles. She was introduced by Bagman as Rita Skeeter, who was doing, according to him, a bit in the press.
Alma could feel the woman's hungry thoughts. Then again, she only had to look at her face to do that. Hearing the thoughts was sickening. She was looking to do some lurid tabloid article on the Boy Who Lived.
After asking to interview Harry, and not bothering to wait for a reply, she grabbed Harry and dragged him into a nearby broom cupboard. Go along with it, Alma sent. I'll settle her hash.
Rita Skeeter was beside herself with glee. At last, at last, she had the Boy Who Lived to interview! Just a quick interview with her Quick-Quotes Quill, and she'd have an article that would sell a ridiculous amount of copies of the Daily Prophet. Maybe she might be able to buy that necklace she had her eye on.
Rita Skeeter had little interest in the truth, unless the pure, unadulterated truth was sure to shake the halls of the mighty. The only establishment she didn't wish to shake was the Daily Prophet. Hell, she'd criticize the Ministry if she thought she could get away with it, and sell enough copies.
Had she had any inkling about Harry's true childhood, she probably would have been interested in the truth where he was concerned. But like almost all of Magical Britain, she thought he had been raised by loving, or at least adequate relatives. Muggles, yes, but adequate.
After dragging Harry into the broom cupboard, Rita fumbled around in her bag. She extracted a number of magical candles, lit them, and sent them into mid-air with her wand. It was only then that she returned her gaze to her fellow occupant of the broom cupboard. And shrieked at the orange eyes glowing at her out of the darkness.
Boo, Alma said.
"H-h-h-how d-d-d-did…"
Magic, Alma said, cutting off the stammered question. Mr Potter will not be answering any questions without an approved chaperone. However, if you play nice, you will get an exclusive interview. With both of us.
"You? But…"
I am his oldest friend. Plus, would you like to give the American magical community a bloody nose(2)?
Now this definitely got through to Rita. With a predatory smile that would have done a shark proud, she asked, "Then please, tell me more."
Hogsmeade. This Saturday. The Hog's Head. Noon. Alma's eyes then narrowed. And don't try your Animagus form.
Rita's eyes widened. Could this girl sense her thoughts?!
I've had practise detecting Animagi, Alma clarified. Not a complete lie, but it would have to do. Like I said: Hogsmeade. This Saturday. The Hog's Head. Noon. Alma's glowing eyes flicked down to Rita's bag. And a Dicta-Quill, if you don't mind, not a Quick-Quotes Quill. Believe me, you won't need it…
CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:
Wow, I am making a rod for my own back, updating this story so frequently. Don't get comfortable. The update status of this story is WIFLI, along with all my other fanfics: When I Feel Like It.
Anyway, I decided to have Dumbledore tell Harry about the Deathly Hallows and his real reason for wanting the Stone. I also thought that having them suddenly realise Alma was in the middle of removing the curses and the Horcrux was funny.
Speaking of funny, how do you guys like the prank Alma played on Malfoy? In case you're wondering why Snape didn't try to punish Alma, there's a few reasons for that. One, there's no way of proving it (not that that hasn't stopped Snape from accusing Harry or his friends of something or other). Two, he does get exasperated with the arrogance of his godson. Three, I think he wanted to say something about bowels. And four, he already knows something of the power of Alma. Snape would prefer his flesh to stay un-liquefied and on his bones. He's a dick, but he's not an idiot.
Oh, and Alma has put Rita Skeeter very firmly in her place. Heh heh heh…
1. This is actually true. The swastika was once a symbol of good luck in many cultures. Unfortunately, the Nazis, by using it as their symbol, perverted it, and it is now irrevocably a sign of evil in the West. Sickening, isn't it?
2. One thing that annoys me in Harry Potter fanfics that I have come across is how Magical USA is portrayed. It's frequently portrayed as being far more progressive than Magical Britain, sometimes damn nearly a utopia. Given that, in this story, Alma is an ultra-powerful type of witch who was born in the US, I intend to portray a very different Magical USA, or at least part of it.