Chapter 70: Deviation
The weeks since Harry had left for Hogwarts had passed by without much fanfare or any incidents. Aside from purchasing the apartment complex, reshuffling my businesses, and hiring a bunch of new people, very little had actually happened.
I was enjoying the peace and quiet, which was of course how I knew everything was about to start falling apart. But until things actually started to go wrong, I had things to do, and that was why I was standing in my new penthouse talking with a dwarf in a hard hat.
"…and that's what I want for the windows. Think your craftsmen can handle that?"
"Got to say, my niece was not joking when she said you had ideas," the dwarven architect and Ward Master said as he looked over my plans for what I wanted done with the apartment complex.
Bartrum Stonespittle was Hildegarde's uncle and an extremely talented builder, as well as being very proficient with runes and wardcraft. I had only managed to get into contact with him through Hildegarde's reference. He was gruff, but very good at his job.
"I do indeed," I said with a nod.
"Hmm. Some of this won't be easy. Have to do some serious renovations if you want the highest quality wards to cover the entire complex," the dwarf said thoughtfully. "Plus, the expenses."
"As long as the whole building can be finished as soon as possible, money is no question," I replied.
"That's what I like to hear!" Bartrum declared. "Been a while since I was able to knock some rust off my hammer. The money doesn't hurt either!"
He then sent me a look. "And as for the second thing ya asked for… We'll have to see. I won't say I'm not interested, and my brothers will also be intrigued by the offer, but we've been burned before by humans."
"Yes, I heard about what Lockheart did last year," I said with an apologetic wince.
"Ugh, don't remind me about that!" Bartrum groaned. "A job is a job, but he completely lied about what we would be doing!"
He then shot me a sharp look. "But that wasn't all that I meant, and you know it."
I nodded with a solemn sigh. The goblins weren't the only magical race humanity had had wars with. The dwarves were less antagonistic over all, but they hadn't done well, especially with the Statute of Secrecy cutting off access to their customers.
Being master builders and craftsmen, as well as far less prickly than goblins, mundane humans had once paid for the dwarves to construct castles, sewers, and countless weapons and armor. And with the goblins cornering the market on banking and other craft-related businesses in the now isolated magical world, the dwarves had steadily lost work.
They were still the best runesmiths around, and witches and wizards fought for the chance to study under a dwarven master of runes, but for the most part, dwarven civilization had faded from glory.
'However, if I can make an alliance with the dwarves, or at least have a good working relationship with them in the future, then my plans for introducing more runes into my businesses will go more smoothly,' I thought to myself.
"Alright, then," I said, nodding at Bertrum's words. "When you do decide what to do, be sure to pass my offer on to the rest of the dwarves."
He ignored me, already beginning to walk around the penthouse as he examined everything, checking on it and making notes for what he'd need to replace and what he could keep in order to turn the place and the rest of the building into a magical fortress.
As I was walking out of the apartment, I felt something vibrate in my back pocket. I reached into it and removed a pager.
Pagers were so weird. They were cellphones, but not really? They could receive small alpha-numerical messages without needing to rely on a landline. I used it to let me know if somebody had tried to call me, or to let my secretaries contact me.
Checking the display, I found that it was the number Sirius used when he needed to contact me. Grimmauld Place hadn't originally had a phone, and the defenses around it wouldn't let a Muggle work team inside to install one, but the neighbors on either side of the creepy old house did, and the Marauder had found a way to magically tap into their phone lines with an antique rotary phone.
'Sometimes he acts like a moron, but then I remember that he helped create one of the most incredible pieces of magic I've ever seen and it creates tonal whiplash,' I thought to myself with a chuckle. 'Well, if he's calling me, it's probably something important. Better go find out what he wants.'
I got into my car – newly repaired and upgraded with new runes and enchantments to make it nigh-indestructible – and headed to my apartment. I couldn't wait to move into the penthouse, but I'd likely have to wait a year before that.
Inside my cozy little home, I immediately returned Sirius' call. "Hey, Sirius, what's up?"
"Is this thing on?!"
"Yes, Sirius, the phone is working," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I can hear you, no need to shout."
"Ed! Good!" Sirius said, only slightly lowering his voice. "Remus is contacting me on the mirror! He wants to talk with both of us!"
That caught my attention. The magic mirror was a clever way to communicate that the Marauders had come up with, but it only worked in pairs. If Remus wanted to talk to both of us, I had to go over to Sirius' place.
"I'll be there soon," I promised before hanging up. As I drove over, I couldn't help but wonder about what would cause Remus to use the mirror. Had something happened with Harry? I gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to think about that.
When I reached Grimmauld Place, I had to park a whole street away as the parking spaces were all taken up by the time I arrived. Walking up to the front door, I only had to knock once before it swung open.
"Good, you're here," Sirius said, ushering me inside.
"Sorry, I was at the apartment complex and then had to stop at my place to call you," I apologized. "I probably could have made a call from a phone booth, though…"
"That's alright. Uh, but when do you think you'll be ready to start renting out rooms in that fancy new place of yours?" Sirius asked curiously as he led me into the living room.
"Interested in upgrading from Grimmauld Place?" I asked.
"Absolutely. A nice little man-pad for me to stay that isn't dripping with evil sounds like a great place to relax," he joked.
"You can rent right now if you want, but I'd suggest waiting for a bit. I was talking with Rockspittle today and negotiating for his services."
"Oh, did the dwarves finally agree to work with you?" he asked, surprised.
"Yup. Going to be expensive, but the apartment building will have the best dwarven defenses money can buy," I confirmed.
"In that case, I'm definitely putting a deposit down right now for when everything is ready," Sirius said. "Anyways, get comfy while I set up the mirror."
I sat down in the living, taking a seat on the couch that according to Sirius had been stuffed with hippogriff down. As I did, I couldn't help but notice that Kreatcher was watching me, peering out from behind the doorframe.
"Uh, hello, Kreatcher," I said slowly, eyeing the mentally unstable House Elf.
"Nasty Squib, sitting on Black furniture, making it nasty just like him," the old House Elf grumbled. "Must clean it thoroughly."
"Riiight," I drawled. "Don't let me stop you from having fun, then."
"Fun?" Kreather cackled. "Does the Squib have more playthings for me?"
I blinked, then paled a little as I realized he meant he wanted more prisoners to torture. "Uh, no, not yet."
The House Elf tsked at me before walking away, muttering to himself about the 'good old days.'
"Was Kreatcher bothering you?" Sirius asked as he walked down with the enchanted hand mirror.
"No, just creeping me out," I replied, before waving at the tiny image of Remus' head being shown. "Hey, Professor Lupin. Have you had to give any detention recently?"
"You and Sirius are spending too much time together if you're making the same jokes," the werewolf grimaced.
Sirius snorted and I grimaced. "Uh-oh, if my jokes are the same as his, I have to get new material. Don't want to be mistaken for an old man, after all."
"I'm not old!" Sirius huffed. "I'm refined and mature, like wine."
"Even wine turns into vinegar after a while," Remus retorted, and the animagus stuck his tongue out at him before setting the mirror down on the coffee table, propping it up so we could all see each other.
"What's up, Remus?" I asked. "Is everything alright at Hogwarts?"
"Things are fine, but I'm not sure how much longer it will be," the Defense teacher replied. "Amelia told me something very worrying. Bartimaeus Crouch Senior was found dead in his house last night."
"What do you mean he's dead?" I demanded, leaning in towards the mirror with a worried look on my face.
"It is what it is. Crouch Senior bit the dust," Remus said, and I leaned back in my seat. Beside me, Sirius shared my worry, his own expression pinched.
"What about Junior?" I asked. When Remus coughed nervously, I sighed, "He's gone, isn't he?"
"He is," the werewolf confirmed. "When the Auror's investigated the scene, they found evidence of somebody else having lived in the house for years alongside Crouch Senior. The man's wand was missing, and so were quite a few items and a considerable amount of money. Some think he was robbed…"
"But we know better," Sirius piped up. "By the way, Moony, should your girlfriend really be telling you all of this?"
"She values my input," Remus replied. "And as a teacher at Hogwarts, she believes that I should be kept aware of how this particular case progresses."
"Why? Unless… does she suspect that Crouch Junior is alive and would be going after Harry?" I asked in worry.
"Forensics spells were able to detect the presence of fresh hairs belonging to Crouch Junior, as well as recent finger prints," Remus said. "Amelia is sending a team to Azkaban to investigate Barty's grave to confirm if he really is dead. Don't know how easy that will be, since I am unsure of what the burial situation is like at the prison, but so far, all signs point to Senior's son still be alive and on the loose."
"That's not good," the animagus muttered. "This is a lot sooner than I expected. And different from your visions, Ed."
"I've altered quite a bit already, some things were bound to change," I huffed in response.
"Can't exactly deny that, I suppose," Sirius said.
"What about Winky?" I asked, changing the topic. "What happened to Crouch's House Elf?"
"It's missing, so that's another point in favor of Junior still being alive," Remus replied. "House Elves without masters are supposed to go the Magical Creature's department at the Ministry, but it never showed up after Crouch Senior's death, so Amelia believes it's still serving Junior."
"She," I said. "Winky is a she-elf."
Remus blinked but nodded in understanding. "Ah. Yes. I will keep that in mind."
"Anyways, try and suggest to Madam Bones she should keep a close eye on Peter Pettigrew," I suggested. "Even if the rat is in Azkaban we don't want to take any chances. Oh! And don't forget to remind her that she could put extra security on Voldemort's wand."
Remus grimaced but nodded. Voldemort's wand – which had previously been in Pettigrew's possession – was being kept under heavy guard in the Ministry. The wand was responsible for a lot of death and terror, and the Minister of Magic had wanted it kept out of sight, but also as a sort of trophy. As such, it was currently on display in a glass case within Fudge's office.
Despite being out in the open like that, the wand was more secure than other high-valued objects simply by proxy of being in the office of Magical Britain's most powerful man, and thus was protected by the various defensive wards and enchantments within said room.
'Say what you will about the moron currently holding the position, but the previous Ministers knew what they were doing and put so many magical defenses and traps up around the office it'd take a small army of Cursebreakers to bust through,' I thought to myself.
"You know, I just realized that tomorrow is Halloween," I noted. "Wanna bet that tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophetreports that Crouch Junior is not only alive but likely going after Harry as well?"
"Why would you…" Sirius asked, but Remus interrupted.
"No, no, he has a point, Padfoot," the werewolf spoke up. "I heard some things from my students. Twice, now, Harry has experienced some sort of misfortune on the 31st of October. A troll in his first year, and the Chamber of Secrets was opened last year."
"Ah," Sirius muttered, understanding what I was talking about. "Right, yeah, no bet, kid. You won't be scamming me out of any more of my money."
"I'm not scamming you, you're the one who's betting against a Seer," I retorted.
"He's got you there," Remus chuckled. Sirius rolled his eyes at us.
"Do you think Fudge would be stupid enough to try and send the Dementors out after Junior?" I couldn't help but ask, and the wizards shared looks with each other.
"I want to say 'no…'" Remus said.
"But he might not have a choice," Sirius added. "The Dementors are terrible creatures, but even they have some pride. Having a prisoner escape their watch would anger them. Having it happen twice, and so soon after one another? They had to let me go because I wasn't technically a criminal and got acquitted, but Junior? They will want his blood. Or soul, in this case."
"I was afraid of that," I sighed. "Here's hoping only a few of them get sent out, and not hundreds like that fool did in my visions."
"Wanna bet on it?" Sirius asked, tone partially joking. I shot a glare at him, and Remus laughed.
"Just in case, I'll start teaching the OWL and higher classes how to cast a Patronus, just to be on the safe side," the werewolf said a moment later as he wiped a tear of mirth from his eyes.
"That's a good idea," I nodded. "And remember what I said about Harry's talent with it?"
"I do," Remus said, looking a little uncertain, but he eventually nodded. "I'll ask him if he's interested."
"That'll be good for him," I said. Then, a thought hit me. "Speaking of Dementors… Sirius, I found some rituals designed to destroy them, if you're interested…"
"Am I interested in destroying those soul-sucking monsters? Hell yeah I am!" Sirius declared, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Show me what you got and I'll work on finding what's necessary for the ritual."
"You think they'll side with the Dark Lord?" Remus inquired.
"They didn't last time, but all it would take is a little push to get something like those creatures to serve him," Sirius declared bitterly. "They're Dark Creatures, Remus. And not phony bologna 'Dark' creatures like people call Werewolves, Veelas, and Goblins, but actual Dark beings born of foul rituals."
I nodded in agreement. Flamel's journal had contained some history on the cloak-like monsters, and they were truly horrific abominations. They hated life and were probably one of the few things in existence that deserved to be exterminated to the last.
'Anything that feasts on soul should be shunned and destroyed,' I thought to myself. Maybe I was biased due to the fact I knew souls were real and could reincarnate, but the idea of a Dementor getting close to me… I'd had nightmares about it as a child.
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
Today was Halloween, and Harry woke up feeling nervous. The rest of the 3rd Year Gryffindors noticed right away.
"You shouldn't worry, mate," Seamus said, patting Harry on the back as they headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. "It'll give ya indigestion!"
"The last two years, something has always happened on this day," Harry pointed out. "I'm pretty sure I'm cursed."
"Neither of you are wrong," Kellah piped up, playing peacemaker. "Harry, you can't spend the whole day worrying and looking over your shoulder. And Seamus? It does seem like this day is kinda unlucky."
"I'm still think Harry isn't cursed and it isn't just a bunch of coincidences," Hermione claimed.
"I'm not sure about that, Madam Trelawny has been predicting bad things will happen to him for days, now," Lavender pointed out.
"She also said black cloaks will be a source of fear and discomfort," Ron pointed out with a snort and Hermione nodded in agreement.
The bushy-haired girl wasn't taking Divination anymore – not that anyone was sure how she'd been doing so with her schedule so jam-packed with different classes – and she was still rather skeptical of the whole class.
Harry was a bit more credulous thanks to Ed's use of it, but even he could admit Professor Trelawny wasn't the best teacher. She did have the whole mystical persona down pat, though.
'Well, she's not as bad as Hagrid,' Harry mused. The big groundskeeper was a nice man but he didn't really understand what might be consider 'dangerous' to other people. Draco nearly got his eyes pecked out by the hippogriff, and was only saved from blindness by Daphne Greengrass hitting him with a Knock-Back Jinx. That had been a wild class.
"If it happens one more time, then Harry might be onto something," Neville spoke up, and Harry turned to him. "We should probably be on guard, just in case."
"Yeah, we've got your back, Harry!" Dean assured him, and the Boy Who Lived smiled gratefully.
"Thanks, everyone," he said, feeling a bit more relieved as he entered the large chamber. The sky was a bit overcast and grey, leftovers from last night's rain, but it was supposed to be nice and sunny for Quidditch practice later in the day.
Hedwig flew in along with the rest of the owls, delivering a package from Ed to him. Harry opened it up and found it contained a pumpkin themed card and a book. The card simply said "Sorry" and included a page number, and the book was called 'Jewelbert's Guide to Anti-Necromancy.'
'Why does he think I'll need a book about banishing spirits?' Harry couldn't help but wonder, flipping to the page in question. It was a chapter on something called a Dementor and how to drive them off, and Harry felt like he'd heard about the weird cloak-like creatures before… but where?
As Harry tried to remember, the rest of the mail owls finished delivering everything, including copies of the Daily Prophet.
"Oh, wow!" Parvati exclaimed, follow by Ron going "Oh, come on!"
Concerned, Harry glanced over at his friends who were reading the newspaper. "What now?"
Neville was trembling as he stared at the front page of the Daily Prophet, and Hermione and Dean shared a look before the latter passed him their copy.
"CROUCH ESCAPES AZKABAN!" the headline screamed and Harry bit back an urge to sigh as he began to read.
"Bartimaeus Crouch Senior, formerly the head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation, was found dead in his home in North Hampton two days ago! While this is a tragedy, the true shocker is that is has been confirmed that it was his own son, Bartimaeus Crouch Junior, who murdered him!" the newspaper reported.
"Originally sentenced to a life imprisonment in Azkaban for the torture and attempted murder of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Crouch Junior was supposed to have died while in prison and buried on the desolate island. However, it has been discovered that Crouch Senior helped his own son escape Azkaban, smuggling him out from underneath the Dementors noses, and was keeping him locked up in his own basement for the past twelve years under the Imperious Curse! However, Crouch Junior seemed to have escaped from his father's control and reaped his revenge! Minister of Magic Fudge has signed a Kiss on Sight edict and allowed the Dementors to leave Azkaban in order to bring the fugitive to justice!"
The article was written by Rita Skeeter, and there was a bit more to it on other pages, such as requests for anyone who might have seen the escapee to report him, and information about his description to go along with an outdated photo of the man.
Harry put the paper down after reading a bit more, feeling frustrated to have his premonition proved true so soon.
"I told you so," Lavender said smugly, and Ron looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant. Yes, 'black cloaks bringing misfortune' was an accurate descriptor for a Dementor, and after this, it seemed like Professor Trelawny would be getting a bit of a reputation boost amongst the student body.
'Though it does explains why Ed sent me this book,' Harry thought to himself as the Great Hall continued to erupt with chaotic noise as the latest news circulated. Even the teachers looked taken aback, with Snape the most unsettled by the revelation.
'Did he know Crouch Junior in the past?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. 'Or is it because of something else?'
He didn't like not knowing, but for now couldn't do much else. Should he bring this up with Ed, see if he had any advice? Or maybe Remus – sorry Professor Lupin – would be easier to talk to. He was right there at the main table, looking tired and annoyed. Harry could easily relate.
'I hate Halloween,' Harry thought with a sigh. What was wrong with this time of year? Did somebody have it out for him?
For some reason, he couldn't help but feel like he'd heard somebody laughing at him just now. He shivered, and decided to read the book Ed had gifted him as closely as possible. Ghosts were real, after all. Though he decided to hide the book so the castle's spectral inhabitants didn't feel threatened. Harry actually liked most of the ghosts, after all.