Evening’s unfolding shadows colored the boy’s countenance in the same color as that of the gray wood paneled walls. Harry felt as if he was in a dream; too drugged by potions, perhaps, to connect to reality and see it for what it was. The auburn haired boy’s eyes seemed to bore into him, but in truth it was Harry’s that pierced the azure of Albus Dumbledore. Harry’s heart went cold when he realized he could not see his old professor in those eyes. The weight of wars, wisdom, and kindly indulgence was absent, even though there was a steadiness in them which spoke intelligence.
His temples throbbed with pain and he realized he had stopped breathing. He drew in sharply, embarrassed for giving himself away. Steeling himself he looked again at the young boy - just a child. The child was looking at him carefully as well. Obviously Percival’s eldest son had not failed to notice their guest’s unusual scrutiny of him.
“Dinner is ready, Mother says to come down,” Albus broke the odd silence and gently steered Ariana to the doorway. She ran down without a second glance. “Mother says that you should come too.”
Harry pushed the covers off, feeling a cool draft. He rolled up his sleeves and pants so they fitted him as best they could. Then he followed Albus downstairs at a more sedate pace than Ariana.
“Didn’t she see a healer?” Harry asked, thinking that if he could hear the boy speak more maybe everything would make sense.
“Who?” Albus stopped on the steps and looked back up at him. Harry was disappointed again not to find a trace of his mentor. He chided himself in his mind for his foolishness.
“Your sister Ariana,” Harry answered.
“Yes. She was sent home before you. Why?” Albus’ face showed clear childish curiosity. Finally Harry gave up hoping to discover his headmaster quietly hiding within the child in front of him.
“She’s bruised. Didn’t anyone heal her?” Harry asked, remembering his anger at the obvious neglect.
“Mother says she is old enough to learn about pain and that it takes time to heal,” Albus explained and started walking down again, thinking he had answered Harry’s question fully.
Harry frowned at Albus’ words but held back from saying something insulting about his mother. He followed in Albus’ steps noting his simple robes. He wondered when the boy changed from solid colors to the riotously adorned robes he wore in his final years. The thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he felt oncoming vertigo.
Blanking his mind to control his emotions he quietly concentrated on putting one step in front of the other. He plodded along in his shoes several sizes too big, distractedly irritated at the need for new clothes. They walked through a sitting area with a few shelves of books, a comfortable leather chair and ottoman.
“This is father’s study. It is quicker to the dinning room this way,” Albus informed quietly, while slowing down perceptively and walking carefully on the rugs placed in the center. Harry followed his example, getting a sense that there were consequences for disturbing or breaking anything in the room.
“Hold on,” Harry called, making Albus jump. The auburn haired boy cocked his head to check if Harry’s loud words were heard. He breathed in relief making Harry arch an eyebrow in question.
“We aren’t allowed to cut across the study. Be quiet, please,” Albus angrily whispered.
“Alright, alright, don’t worry.” Harry smiled, amused by the boy’s caution. Having had a brush with death so recently made angering his hosts seem unimportant. “Your name is Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore, right?”
The taller boy blinked at him. “Yes. How do you know? Oh! Father must have told you. I am the eldest, so I have the longest name.”
“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” Harry commented distractedly, feeling his stomach knot. His last hope that the names were a coincidence was dashed. What a weird reason to have a long name.
“Albus!” Percival Dumbledore’s voice echoed in the house; Albus winced.
“Yes, Father?” he called out, shoving Harry to a side door, one which they weren’t headed to before.
“Are you in my study, Albus?” Percival footsteps could be heard getting close.
“No, Father,” Albus called from the side door, pushing Harry completely through and grabbing his arm to race down the hallway they had walked into. Harry let himself be dragged around until Albus made a sharp left into quite obviously the dining room.
“Are you running from your father, Albus?” Kendra Dumbledore came around the table flicking her braid behind her.
Harry heard more than saw Albus gulp, but there was a smile on his mother’s face so he didn’t know why the boy was so afraid.
“I had to tie my shoes. Albus didn’t want to be late so we ran. It’s my fault really, sorry.” Harry adopted an apologetic hung head and so missed Kendra’s appraising look.
“True, I do not take kindly to tardiness, but I also value honesty. Take your seats boys.”
Dinner showed Harry in one glimpse what the life of Dumbledores was like. Unlike the warmth and love of the Weasley household, the Dumbledore family was a household of discipline. The only two off-beat members were Percival Dumbledore and his daughter, Ariana. Kendra tried, in vain, to stop Percival from playing with Ariana at the dinner table. Albus and Aberforth were dutiful and obedient, attentive to both their mother and father. Albus was arrayed with his mother in looking down on Percival and Ariana’s deviance from ‘proper table manners.’ Poor Aberforth for all his surliness seemed afraid that he would be the target of his mother’s ire at her husband.
Harry ate quietly, taking it all in. He found the atmosphere slightly oppressive and confusing. Percival was without doubt the head of the family, his wife and children responded to him immediately and dutifully. But that did not stop Kendra from insisting on discipline and what was ‘correct.’ Sadly, Percival’s affectionate manner with his daughter did not extend to his sons. He treated them as one would treat subordinates, expected to report their daily activities and success with studies.
Harry wondered which side of the line in the household he would fall in. Percival had been kind and generous to him. Looking at how strictly he spoke with his sons, Harry could even say Percival had been indulgent with him. But then, Kendra had hugged him as well. Perhaps the Dumbledores were simply not as free with affection as the Weasels and expressed it only sometimes.
What he knew for certain and that made him uneasy was the tension in the children caused by their parents’ different and unequal expectations. However, it looked like Aberforth was the worst off. Both his mother and father treated him strictly, while he needed the affection only Ariana received. Albus at least had his Mother’s approval.
He was so lost in his observation that he did not realize that they had noticed his intent gaze on them. When Percival nodded to gain his attention, he was startled out of his thoughts.
“Mr. Gabriel, please come into my study,” Percival said, standing up.
Harry had planned to pick up the table as soon as everyone was done in an effort to be useful. But he got up thinking he might have some chance later to ingratiate himself to Kendra Dumbledore. The thought that he might already enjoy her favor for saving her daughter did not cross his mind.
“Excuse me.” Harry gave Kendra an awkward bow as he stood to follow Percival. He felt distinctly shabby in his oversized clothes in Kendra’s neatly kept dinning room.
Percival led through a door to the study Albus had been trying to sneak through. He took a seat behind a small clear desk. It had a single wand sitting on it. Something in Percival’s body language told Harry to stay standing. Malfoy’s wand was another indication that the meeting may not be an entirely friendly one.
“Mr. Gabriel, is there someone somewhere waiting for you to return home; someone to whom this wand belongs?” Percival Dumbledore asked.
Harry stifled the need to scoff at the thought that Draco Malfoy might be waiting for him. Being dismissive when Percival looked so serious might give have given the wrong impression.
“No, sir,” Harry said, then added as an afterthought, “I am alone.” Harry had been avoiding thinking of this aspect of his situation. He had thought he was only going back a little, maybe a few months, maybe a year. But to be so very far in the past that without an extraordinarily long life he would never see his friends again was too overwhelming.
“Then you will keep to your story that you are a homeless child who ‘found the wand?’” Percival asked, keeping very still and watching Harry’s expression.
Harry did not like the way the question was phrased, but he had no choice but to answer civilly. In this time the Dumbledore family was the most familiar thing he knew. “Yes, sir. I am homeless. The wand isn’t mine. It belonged to a dark wizard.”
Percival held up a hand to stop Harry from continuing, and Harry berated himself for letting on that he knew the wand’s owner.
“You do not have a clean or a respectable past, this much I have guessed. But you saved my daughter without any thought to self preservation. I am prepared to see you as a child with a good heart in very unfortunate circumstances. I am prepared to forgive you for whatever you have done until you met me and give you a new start in life.” Percival paused to lean over the desk, steepling his fingers. “Does that sound like good fortune to you? If I were in your shoes I would think myself very lucky for this chance.”
Harry nodded vigorously. If Percival wanted to move on from his stupid disclosure, he was more than happy to encourage him. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“One moment.” Percival held up his index finger. “Whatever your history, your doings, which I suspect may be criminal or at the least unacceptable, will remain a secret in your soul. I will not inquire and you will not volunteer. Is that understood?”
Harry realized the great gift he was being given. Not only did he not have to explain where he had popped up from, Percival deeply did not want him to say anything. “Yes, sir. Clear as crystal.”
Percival smiled a little at his response. “What that means is that from tonight forward you will act like a child who would save another at the expense of his life should. You will be honest, upstanding, and everything a man ought to be. I will not turn a blind eye if you do something undesirable under my care. My debt to you for saving my daughter’s life grants you a new life, but it does not grant you license to abuse my kindness. Is that clear?”
“I don’t take advantage of people. Thank you for your help,” Harry said meeting Percival’s piercing gaze. He did not have a dark past he was ashamed of, just not one he could share. Harry hoped Percival could see what kind of person he was if he met his eyes. He wanted to defend himself and say he had not ever done anything criminal but technically that was not true.
“This is your old life,” Percival said, tapping Malfoy’s wand. “Pick it up.”
Harry took the wand, automatically sliding it in his back pocket but Percival motioned him to keep it out.
“As I said, that is your old life. I would like you to break it.” Percival leaned back in his chair, waiting for Harry’s reaction.
Harry snapped the wand without ceremony and placed the pieces back on Percival’s desk. He was happy to see the surprised look on the man’s face. Maybe he thought I was attached to it. Malfoy’s wand is the last thing I want for a memory.
“Good. Your lack of hesitation has changed my mind. I was wary of providing you with a wand before, but tomorrow I shall take you to Ollivander. ”
Harry nodded and said thank you. It seemed to him that Percival insisted on deference to himself and good manners just as much as his wife did, except where it concerned his daughter. Harry had little problem giving him what he expected. He had been raised to pretend respect for the Dursleys, and then do more of the same for teachers like Professor Snape.
Percival came around the desk with a smile and patted his shoulder. It seemed Harry had gained the wizard’s approval. Percival walked him around the house pointing out which room belonged to whom, while Harry wondered where he would be staying. The house was not especially small or large. It was comfortable and well kept. The size looked to be just right for the number of people living there; that is, there did not seem to be a place for Harry.
When Percival arrived back in the room Harry had passed-out in earlier, Harry noticed that there were three beds in there.
“You will sleep here with Albus and Aberforth. Tomorrow we will see about cleaning the attic for you.” Percival inspected his sons’ room frowning at one bed’s rumpled sheets in contrast with the neatly made other beds. “This is Albus’ old bed. I have transfigured it to fit you easily. The mattress is charmed to be comfortable tonight but we will make permanent arrangements when everything is decided. You should go to sleep. My sons will come up after I have told them you will be staying with us.”
“Goodnight, sir,” Harry said, feeling drawn to the bed.
“Goodnight, Mr. Gabriel.” Percival rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, no need to be formal with you anymore. Rest well, Harry.”
Harry slipped under the covers in his overlarge clothes blissfully. He palmed the mokeskin purse Hargrid had gifted him to see if it was there. Relieved that his most precious belongings were still with him he fell into deep sleep.
The next morning Harry was woken up before daybreak. Kendra Dumbledore sent him to wash while she disappeared muttering something under her breath. From her manner Harry thought speed was advisable so he cleaned up quickly. He shuffled downstairs, trying to keep the too big frame of his older body’s spectacles on. He followed the dull orange glow coming from the kitchen. Everywhere else in the house it was dark and hushed. The rest of the children were still asleep. Harry wondered if things for him would be like they were at the Dursleys; woken up before everyone else to prepare breakfast and to do chores.
However, when he entered the kitchen Kendra motioned him toward the dining room. Harry happily noted a house elf jetting around Kendra’s legs making breakfast. He held the door to the dining room open for Kendra seeing her pick up a tea service she had been readying. Percival Dumbledore was seated at the table, looking as fresh as he had the night before. His shoulder length auburn hair was pulled off his face and he was wearing a finely cut long coat of a fashion Harry recognized to be very out of date in his time. Still, the tall grave man made it look smart. Harry noted a small gold pin in the long coat’s lapel with three stylized M’s on it; he did not recognize the insignia.
“You have a very long day ahead of you, child. Merlin, if only you were close to Albus or Aberforth’s size I could give you one of their robes,” Kendra said, taking out her wand.
She shrunk his glasses first so they fit him; he thanked her with feeling, gaining a light smile from the sleepy witch. Her black hair was out of its braid and she kept impatiently brushing back the locks that fell past her waist. Percival chuckled every time she would sigh in annoyance. Kendra did not notice her husband’s amusement at her plight as she was too busy charming Harry’s clothes to fit him, mending tears here and there. She told him to take off his shoes and transfigured the sneakers into black leather boots.
“Never seen shoes like those before,” she commented, sitting down. Harry looked at himself, impressed, and feeling like a new man. Kendra Dumbledore was very skilled in Transfiguration and Charms. “Well, you’re presentable enough for the Hit Wizards or the Aurors. We will civilize you later today for the Hogwarts interview. If the Headmistress agrees?” She looked askance to Percival who nodded.
“Yes, if she agrees, but I do not doubt she will. Her family is indebted to ours,” Percival said while drinking his tea with shut eyes.
Harry attempted to interject a question about what the Hit Wizards wanted and why he had to interview with the Hogwarts Headmistress, but Kendra spoke before he could. “Percival, is all the haste necessary? The child has not had enough rest. He was in St. Mungo’s less than a day ago.”
“Yes, my dear, it is imperative that the child’s affairs be taken care of immediately. Most importantly, we owe him to care for his wellbeing.” Here he nodded to Harry, acknowledging that Harry really was there even if he was being spoken of as if he was not. Kendra motioned Harry to start eating his breakfast while watching her husband to say more. “The child’s circumstances are a bit suspect,” Percival added putting down his tea. “The Hit Wizards are concerned about a criminal background. The Aurors, on the other hand, examined the wand he was found with and wish to question him about possible past association with dark wizards or witches. But of course, their job is complicated if I take the child in under my protection, under the name of our family.”
Kendra had taken a seat at the table but was not partaking in breakfast. She gave Harry a severe look. “My husband tells me you snapped the wand without hesitation. I am glad to hear of it. You can see what lengths it will take us to secure your future. I hope you will not disappoint us.”
Harry nodded and returned her quelling look respectfully. “I told Mr. Dumbledore that I don’t take advantage of people, ma’m. I’m not a criminal or a dark wizard. I promise I won’t make you regret helping me.”
Kendra smiled, which made her attractive. “You were right, Percival, he has a strong spirit and is respectful. I shall make him a gentleman,” she said to her husband while giving Harry the smile that had made him blush. “I understand their interest in questioning him but why the hurry?”
Percival seemed to weigh his words and for a moment it looked as if he would not say anything. Then coming to an internal decision, he explained, “You know I have enemies in the Ministry. Through denying me custody of him they might enjoy petty revenge.” Percival’s frown deepened. “Or they could cast suspicion on our family for being saved by an unsavory character; no matter the truth that the boy is noble. There are others, of course, who recognize the debt of House Dumbledore to the child. If they give him shelter before us, they could have a pawn in their grasp to which I owe an undeniable debt. It disgusts me when doing the right thing by the boy is so mixed in with political necessities as well.”
Kendra shrugged at her husband’s obvious ire. Harry who had begun to feel Percival’s kindness was simply for personal gain was mollified by seeing the grave wizard’s distaste of the situation.
“I am going to stop by unannounced for a visit to one of Wizengamot’s esteemed members,” Percival said with sarcasm, “when he is awakening from another night of libations in quiet celebration of our laws.”
“Merlin, this is how you keep making enemies,” Kendra said, dismayed. “People do not like knowing you are aware of their secrets and weaknesses. Promise me you will let him save face. It is much better to present yourself as a savior than a devil carrying a scroll of their misdeeds,” Kendra appealed to her husband, but in a manner that told Harry she knew her argument would fail before she even presented it.
“I always fashioned myself more as an angel of judgment and righteousness.” Percival smiled at his wife in obvious provocation.
“Percival,” Kendra whispered, quietly exasperated. “Your sons will inherit your enemies. Think of them at least and be diplomatic.”
“I do not compromise on the man I am or my principles. Our sons will have my strength of arm to do right deeds without apology, but also your subtleties, which might make them more more diplomatic. I am too bent in my ways to change now; you should invest time in them.” He smiled again at her, and Harry was certain this was a comfortable and familiar argument for them. In his sea of worry and uncertainty it was a pleasant sight, even though it made him feel like he was intruding.
He ate his breakfast while Kendra and Percival spoke of people he did not know and that had nothing to do with his situation. Finally Percival put down the cup of tea he had been nursing through the early breakfast.
“Time to go, child. Now, hold on to my arm and don’t let go,” he said to Harry, putting on a hat. Kendra stood on her tiptoes and gave the tall wizard a quick peck on the cheek. Next thing Harry knew he was being side-along disapparated.
They appeared in a darkened corridor. The sound of busy hustle -bustle carried through the thin wooden walls. It gave Harry the impression that perhaps the narrow passageway was a secret area hidden along one of the Ministry’s otherwise expansive hallways. Percival motioned him to stay quiet and withdrew his wand. Harry tensed, unhappy at not having a wand of his own. Percival muttered a spell on the doorknob of one of three rooms that were lined along the dingy corridor. He heard a click as the lock yielded.
Percival threw the door open making it hit something with a loud bang. It startled Harry who thought the tall wizard wanted to be quiet.
“Mr. Worchester, good morning, your honor,” Harry heard Percival’s cheery voice, so at odds with his usual demeanor. He realized he had been left in the corridor while Percival had entered the room. Harry quickly followed in to see an unshaved old man blinking owlishly at the grave visage of Percival Dumbledore.
Harry entered fully into the room but the man behind the desk did not make note of him. He was slightly rotund, with thick glasses sitting skewed on his bloodshot eyes. His white with age hair was as rumbled as his ceremonial purple robes. The ornate ‘W’ on his breast finally clued Harry that he was in the chambers of the Wizengamot judge Percival had mentioned at breakfast.
“Dumbledore? What are you doing here?” the old wizard asked utterly confused.
“I am here for a little help with a personal matter. You heard about the muggles’ attack at my home?” Percival said, clearing off the files sitting on a visitor’s chair to sit down.
Mr. Worchester fixed his spectacles and wiped his face vigorously. He smelled of alcohol and flinched at every sound. Harry seeing a pitcher of water at the corner of the wizard’s desk went to it. He poured a goblet full and gave it to the apparently hung-over wizard. Mr. Worchester took note of Harry for the first time, blinking at him, but accepted the goblet thankfully.
“This is the boy who saved my daughter’s life. A diamond in the rough.” Percival smiled at Harry, motioning him to fill up Mr. Worchester’s glass again.
“Oh? Is he? Indeed, indeed,” Mr. Worchester said still very out of his depth. He drank the second goblet of water like a parched man.
Percival started talking before Mr. Worchester was finished. “I have prepared papers to take in Mr. Harry Gabriel here as my ward. I simply need your signatures to verify that everything is legal and proper.” Percival withdrew a thick scroll from his coat and gave it to Harry who was better positioned to take it to Mr. Worchester. The books, parchment, and empty bottles of Firewhiskey on the desk made it difficult to present the aged wizard with anything.
“I – I see,” Mr. Worchester said, taking the scroll from Harry warily, as if something would pop out of it and bite him. “So this boy…I heard he took injury. Was not expected to recover.”
“I am lucky, Mr. Worchester,” Harry said politely, letting the old wizard know he was capable of speech on his own. He found it mildly irritating to be spoken of when he was present.
Mr. Worchester, however, seemed to have finally found his bearings. He had put the scroll aside on his desk and was staring at Dumbledore over his thick glasses. The set of his shoulders made Harry think the wizard was getting ready for a fight.
“Irregular, highly irregular. This should be submitted to the court clerk. The…what the hell are they calling themselves these days? Every half-century they adopt a new name – ah yes, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has to clear the boy and you as a suitable guardian,” the wizard said belligerently. Harry was taken aback by the change that had come over the man.
Percival hummed in an unconcerned manner. He made it very obvious that he was only pretending to think over what Mr. Worchester had said. “Perhaps, if you were to look at the papers you might see why I took the opportunity to bring this to your personal attention, your honor,” he said with a bare emphasis on ‘honor.’
With a casual wave of his hand the Firewhiskey bottles on the desk began meandering to the edge to jump down. The bottles took their time when they crossed in front of Mr. Worchester. The old wizard’s eyes followed the train of empty Firewhiskey bottles, that Percival was so obviously displaying for him. Harry noted the man pale a little and slump his shoulders. It occurred to him that Percival was very undiplomatically parading evidence of Worchester’s drinking problem. Kendra would be upset with her husband if she saw Percival acting like this. When the old wizard wet his lips Harry poured him another glass of water. The wizard knocked it back like a shot and gave Percival a defeated glare.
“Ah, that should make it easier to spread out the scroll,” Percival said, acting unaware of the loathsome look directed at him.
The wind seemed to leave Mr. Worchester as he slumped in his stuffed chair. In another moment, however, he sat up straight in his chair, very deliberately taking a dignified posture. “Thank you, my boy,” he said to Harry. “You seem like a decent sort.” Then he turned to look full face at Harry. His white hair up close was greasy from too many days without washing, the skin on his reddened face was unhealthily blotched, and his eyes showed a cornered man. “I take some measure of responsibility by handing you in Percival Dumbledore’s care. Act in an honorable manner, always, and distinguish yourself. So I do not regret rewarding your kindness to a stranger.”
Harry frowned, wondering why people were so worried about him bringing shame on them. But then he was new to being seen as a street urchin and was unaware of what aiding Percival Dumbledore meant for Ministry workers in that day.
“I won’t make you regret it, Mr. Worchester,” Harry said simply, a little upset by all the suspicion.
“Good. Very well. Now where is my quill?” Mr. Worchester said reaching for the quill right next to his hand. He unrolled the scroll and with a cursory glance signed it. Out of a drawer he withdrew the seal of the Wizengamot and affixed it to the official document as well. “Come to me some day and I will educate you on your rights and expectations as a ward of the House Dumbledore. Good luck to you, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, picking his way over the bottles that now littered the carpeted floor.
“Good day, your honor,” Percival said with a tip of his hat. Harry preceded him out of the door, but heard what his guardian said to the judge as he left. “Worchester, I am not the only one who knows of your recent failings. If it were someone other than me, they might have forced you to agree to something more unfortunate than giving a homeless child a guardian.”
“Get out!” came the angry response from the old judge inside. Harry could see in his mind the wizard’s ailing and desperate face and it made him feel ill himself.
“Clean yourself up, Worchester,” Percival said as a parting shot and shut the door. “So much for Kendra’s diplomacy,” he muttered, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder and leading him out.
Harry smiled in amusement at what Percival thought was ‘diplomacy.’
Percival led out into one of the Ministry’s larger halls on the top floors. From there they took the elevator all the way to the ninth floor. Percival walked toward the unassuming door leading into the Department of Mysteries. Despite himself Harry felt nervous about revisiting the room there.
It was to his surprise when Percival stopped halfway between the elevator and the Department of Mysteries’ door. He turned to his right to face a blank wall and took out the pin on his lapel. He pressed it into a groove Harry had not seen until then, and a door simply materialized in the wall.
Unlike the Department of Mysteries’ door, this one was grand with an arching top adorned in runes and artful engravings. As Harry watched a face appeared within the arch. The stone face looked at Dumbledore and then spoke in an expectedly gravelly voice, “Are you Percival Dumbledore?”
“It is me, Sentinel, let us in, please,” Percival answered impatiently.
“The boy is too young to be a soldier. I do not recognize him,” Sentinel replied.
“His name is Harry Gabriel. Harry, this is Sentinel, the guardian door of this department. I expect you to be respectful to him. Now, Sentinel, the boy is my ward. Let us in before an Unspeakable stumbles upon us.” Percival knocked where the stone face’s brow was.
“Nearest Unspeakable is on the seventh floor. Aurors – two – arriving with prisoner for Courtroom 10 in seventy-three seconds . Enter quickly,” Sentinel said and then yawned. Harry watched in amusement as the yawn opened the mouth of the stone face so wide and tall it was big enough for him and Percival to walk through. Percival pulled Harry over the bottom lip of the stone face into a short dark passage, much like the one in Gryffindor tower. After a few steps there was suddenly light, allowing Harry to see wide halls with pillars marching far back. Percival started walking purposefully and Harry followed. Their steps echoed in the immense gray hall. Harry got a sense that the place had not been in use for a very long time. He could see dust ringing around the bases of the pillars in the empty halls.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic’s Military, Harry. This was once the pride of our nation.” Percival gave Harry a sardonic smile over his shoulder. “They tell me it is even more anachronistic than I am these days.”
Harry could tell there was real anger behind Percival’s sarcastically amused face. He was happy to know, however, what the three Ms on his pin had meant. To his knowledge the Ministry did not have a military in his time. They had Aurors and Hitmen, he could not see what a military would do.
As they entered a third hall through another arch Harry finally began to see the rooms being used for something. Strange devices, some small and some so immense they disappeared in the vaunted ceiling of the hall, were gathering dust. But here and there he would see a twinkle of magic, a sparkle of something that was still alive.
“Do not touch these. There are a handful of people alive who know their use and can control them if they get out of hand. I would appreciate it if you do not mention their existence to anyone either. Enchanted weaponry and machines of war are coveted by other departments who have no business with the Magical Military’s equipment,” Percival said, never slowing down in his pace. Harry wondered when the expansive halls would end. It seemed there was an arch at the end every time leading to another dusty, pillared, and disused hall.
The fourth they entered took Harry’s breath away. His footsteps froze and even Percival stopped to let him have a moment. This hall was the greatest in size. The pillars here gleamed magically white and were the source of light. They shone on sculptures of dark creatures and beings only a few of which he had ever seen. They were mounted from the ceiling; showing the underbellies of sea creatures he had only imagined from descriptions in his Defense books. The far walls of the hall had shelves upon shelves flying high and disappearing into the ceiling. Many had books and tomes on them, but most had curious instruments and sculptures of things he could not even make out from distance.
“Best not wake anything that is here either, Harry. Very few who could survive this room when it is awakened. Too few…” Percival Dumbledore whispered the last. Harry found the tall wizard grave again, his auburn hair strangely too healthy against his worn face.
“Wake anything? But they’re sculptures,” Harry said.
“Understand this, in the world of magic, rarely is anything what it is on the surface. Especially when you see something in this department, err on the side of caution,” Percival answered.
“What about those books then? Defense against the Dark Arts?” Harry, who thought he might’ve found a treasure trove on his favorite subject, asked.
Percival gave him an unreadable look. “Point where you see books.”
Harry frowned at the odd request but did as asked, pointing to the shelves packed with books. Percival looked from him to the shelves and back.
“Hmm, follow me,” the talk wizard said, taking quiet and careful steps around the detailed and life-like sculptures to the shelves. As Harry got closer he saw a glass wall from floor to ceiling in front of the shelves. Faint, nearly transparent, runes and spells were written out on the glass-wall line after line. Behind it sat the tomes he had seen from far away. Standing a few feet away he could see the books did not sit next to each other but were spaced out in strange patterns. Some were locked in glass boxes much like the wall they were sitting behind
“I guess they’re restricted,” Harry commented, eliciting an amused chuckle from Percival.
“An understatement, Harry. Make sure you do not even slip and accidentally tell anyone that you can see these books. You see, they are enchanted to not look like their true selves,” Percival cautioned.
“How can I see them then?” Harry was confused.
“Like attracts like,” Percival said with a heavy gaze on Harry.
“I don’t understand.”
Percival’s lips thinned before he answered, “These books are weapons and have minds of their own. If you see them it is because they recognize you. There is something of you that resonates with them.” Percival paused, and spoke ominously, “There is something in you they can take advantage of. So do not ever covet them. Do you understand?”
Harry gulped wondering what he had landed into. “Yes, sir. But isn’t it dangerous to have them behind glass where anyone can see them?”
Percival nodded. “Look at that shelf, what do you see?” he said pointing to the shelves that held small figurines of the life- size creatures and beings displayed on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Harry told him what he saw in detail.
“Everything you are looking at is in reality a book. You simply cannot see it and you will find that you do not have any great desire to pick up the small figures either. If they had the power to tempt you they would have shown their true natures to you. I am glad to see none of these can corrupt you.” Percival waved to the rows upon rows of figurines Harry had been admiring earlier.
Harry felt more than a little wary of things he could not see and took an instinctive step back. But the words “like attracts like” stayed in his mind. It was obvious to him there was plenty that could tempt him.
“These books do not hold knowledge. If that is what you seek, you will not find it here. They are cursed and evil. Come, let’s go.” Percival turned on his heel and made a bee line for the arch leading to yet another hall.
Harry jogged after him, marveling at the sculptures and very reluctant to leave. “What happens if someone tries to get the books?”
“There is nothing ordinary about the enchantments on the protective glass. Life is the least of what would be taken from you if you attempted to breach the wall. Still tempted, boy?”
Harry frowned, not liking Percival’s tone. “I can resist the Iimperius, sir. I don’t think some book will get me.”
Percival froze.
Harry had no warning of what came next. Percival whirled and lunged at him. He picked him up from his shirt and slammed him in a pillar, holding him there.
Then he spoke in a deathly whisper, rage choking his voice. “I told you, boy, you leave your old life behind, you do not lie to me, you do not tell me fibs, you do not act like a dark wizard anymore.” Percival released him, sending Harry crashing to the floor.
Harry’s heart was beating fast, and his own anger had blinded him to his surroundings. He jumped off the ground and screamed on top of his lungs, “I didn’t lie! I am not a dark wizard. Go to hell!”
Percival’s face was a mask of indifference, the rage Harry had seen erupt on his features was gone without a trace. “So, a starved little eleven year old can resist one of the three unforgivables? Something grown and powerful wizards cannot do? You are not on the streets anymore, do not tell tales to impress the criminals.”
“I don’t lie. I can do it,” Harry said, breathing hard. He was furious at being manhandled. Scared at how easily he had been picked up and beaten. Without a wand or his older body he was weak, and it frightened him.
“Very well. I think it is necessary you understand the consequences of lying. Follow me. It is not wise to cast magic such as that in this hall.” Percival left him in his wake.
Harry punched the air in frustration and followed, irritated with himself for letting his guard down around Percival Dumbledore. A man, he realized, who was mostly a stranger to him. He left behind the hall of sculptures and books into the next one. It was a different room, round with a raised podium on the side. For some reason the room made him feel blissful, it was comfortable, and he forgot his earlier anger.
“Stand on the dais and tell me your real intentions for the Dumbledore family,”
Harry heard a voice. It was gentle and sweet, and he thought it was a grand idea. He took two steps and realized he could not see Percival, who he had followed into the room. Besides he did not know what his intentions were; he had none. His steps stopped and a cold feeling started from his middle out. Why do I feel so happy? he wondered.
He turned about face, away from the dais and looked straight at Percival Dumbledore who had been standing against the wall behind him. Harry smiled insolently when Percival’s eyes narrowed.
“I intent to run off with Percival Dumbledore’s wife, who he should listen to more often, and then I am going to come here and kick him in his ass for being a suspicious, paranoid nut. Oh! And I will also tell him I’ve felt a better Imperius curse from an insane person,” Harry chirpily said, numbering off things on his hand.
“Kendra is too old for you,” Percival said with a straight face, putting away his wand. He stared at Harry then burst out laughing. It only served to aggravate Harry more. Percival moved toward him, making Harry flinch back, but the older wizard only patted him on the shoulder. “A diamond in the rough, indeed. Was my Imperius truly worse than a mad man’s?” he asked with a smile.
“Well if you told me to do something less strange it would have worked. It was stronger than the insane wizard’s, but I’ve felt stronger,” Harry could not resist adding.
Percival harrumphed. “You have been dealing with wizards entirely too powerful if they are stronger than me. Well, well,” he said in a thoughtful tone, scratching his chin, “if we showed your ability to resist an unforgivable to the Hogwarts’ Headmistress, she would have no way of refusing you entry.”
Harry stared at the man in disbelief for a couple of moments. Then feeling braver for their recent altercation, he said, “You are just a bit unbalanced, aren’t you? First you overreact when I only mention the Imperius curse and now you want to show me off to the Headmistress?”
“You are too bold for your own good, son,” Percival said, losing his good humor. “Come along. At least the tomes will have a difficult time swaying you.”
Harry muttered a few curses under his breath and brushed himself off.
There was a suite of offices behind the round hall, where Percival Dumbledore had the biggest room. A few small desks sat around the room, buried with maps and scrolls. The middle of the floor was given to a map of Britain which created itself in front of Harry’s eyes. Lines appeared, squiggling all over what looked like the stretched hide of some animal.
Percival was watching the map intently; Harry tried to follow what held the grave wizard’s attention. When the map had drawn itself, inch high characters popped out of it and began walking or congregating at different spots. Harry knelt down to get a better look. He was fascinated by the shapes of wizards and witches with their long cloaks and pointed hats walking on the border. In other places he saw figures much taller than the wizards, but could not make out what they were.
“Giants,” Percival said, seeing Harry’s confusion.
“Cool.” Harry whistled in appreciation, searching out other tiny things. “Are those Goblins?”
“Yes, and vampires here.” Percival pointed to another part of the map. “And now let’s see what is happening in the colonies.” The map unmade itself, erasing the drawn lines, and then began redrawing.
Harry stared at it in confusion until it dawned on him just how far back in time he had gone to. “What are we doing there? I thought it was only the muggles who went to India.”
“Hm?” Percival said, distracted. After he had looked at whatever he was checking, he waved his hand and the map began redrawing itself again. “Yes, the muggle British government is everywhere. ‘The sun does not set on the British empire,’ as they say. Makes a Hell of a lot of work for us. They go colonize somewhere and suddenly the magical world has a war on its hands.” Percival stopped from his casual perusal of the newest map to give Harry his full attention. “There are magical people everywhere in the world, Harry. We have a law that all nations agreed to, the International Statue of Secrecy. In short it means we do everything in our power to hide our world from the muggles. And that means that when the muggles of one nation attack the muggles of another nation, we do not interfere. But…” Percival trailed off, just motioning to the map as if it explained everything.
“Oh,” Harry said in realization. “So that’s why we have a magical military. Are you fighting the Indian wizards right now then?”
“Ah, no, they did not give us much trouble. As long as we do not bring any of their magical children to Hogwarts, they will maintain trade relations. There are a few nationalistic elements in their Ministry, however. A fellow by the name of Sreenath Rakesh seems to have a bad habit of dropping cursed items in British camps.” Percival moved amongst his three desks, looking at scrolls at random. Harry could not imagine how the man kept track of where everything was.
“Wait, is that America?” Harry asked in surprise, seeing the new map.
“The New World.” Percival scoffed. “If only the muggles knew what we know;, it is quite old and treacherous with dark creatures. Our muggle brothers have long left that land to the colonists, but the magical ministries did not withdraw. We are negotiating a peace agreement between the native magical groups and the colonists. War will break out any day, however. Now, boy, you’ve wasted enough of my time with questions, go do something, let me work.”
“Um, okay. Can I go back to the sculpture hall?” Harry asked, hopeful to spend time studying the dark creatures he had seen there.
“No,” Percival answered, already buried in another scroll he had picked from the floor. “Make yourself useful, and don’t get in the way.”
Harry looked around the room but could not see what he could do to be ‘useful.’ So instead he sat down by the map in the middle of the floor. Soon he began seeing how different creatures and magical groups were moving around the maps. It fascinated him to see just the number of things being tracked. A whole new world opened to him when the map began showing seas and oceans.
He was so mesmerized by the map he did not realize how much time passed. When he looked up, Percival was still working around the room and the floor was covered with scrolls. That is when Harry noticed a row of pigeonhole shelves ringed around the room. Every few minutes a scroll would appear in one of them, and Percival would rush to it. Harry watched for a while quietly and noted the man’s agitation.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, but Percival seemed to not have heard him.
The older wizard was muttering under his breath. His blue eyes were tense and hard. Harry opened his mouth to ask him again, but held back. He had learned that Percival’s mood was unpredictable. It would not do to provoke him again.
“Those fools!” Percival swore. “I have to see the Minister. Stay here, when Dickson arrives tell him where I am and to monitor the Shaman situation.”
“Wait!” Harry yelled after the wizard who had already disapparated. He stared at the space Percival Dumbledore had been a moment ago in disbelief. “Right, monitor the Shaman situation.”
Three hours later Percival had not returned and no one else had arrived either. Harry was steadily working around the room cleaning up the scrolls and putting them in whatever order occurred to him. Most were easy for him; he simply divided the scrolls, which seemed to be reports from the Magical Military’s agents around the world, by region and date. However, most of the time he was trying to keep up with reports coming from America. The language was coded and it did not make much sense to him, but he kept them arranged according to when they came in. He wished he had his wand; seeing Hermione countless times organize her books and research had given him enough spell knowledge to make his work go much faster.
He was frustrated by the coded messages. They were coming faster and faster, he could only hope Percival was not missing something important.
Suddenly he heard running footsteps. Adrenaline rushed in his veins, he had no idea who was coming, and he had no way to defend himself. He looked around the room, weighed the usefulness of using Percival’s chair as a weapon. Only a second later he realized he was a little boy, hardly capable of swing furniture around.
“Marshal! Marshal!” Harry heard painful cries.
Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw the big floor map glow red. He looked down to see that it had been washed away to leave the stone face of Sentinel there.
“I have alerted the Sorcerer Marshal. There is an unauthorized wizard entering with Mage Julio,” Sentinel said in his earthy voice.
“What do I do?” Harry asked, wild- eyed.
“Wait for the Sorcerer Marshal,” Sentinel answered and disappeared.