The Potter Conspiracy
A/N: There has been some occasional confusion over the AU aspects of the story. The only things that have changed significantly from early canon (except, of course, for all the Dumbledore manipulations) are these: (1) the graveyard fight happened a little differently, with no priori incantatem and Fawkes intervening, (2) poor Sirius never met Harry before his death, so Harry is unaware of his innocence, Pettigrew’s existence, the Marauder history, etc., and (3) the horcrux issue mentioned last chapter. That’s all you need to remember. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. JKR and her partners do.
Chapter Thirteen – Shuffling towards Bethlehem
October 9th, 1995 – Bones Manor, Ritual Room
“Brace yourself, Mr. Potter…this is going to hurt. A lot.”
Harry was in the center of a white pentagram, surrounded by candles and rune stones with symbols he didn’t recognize. Bones Manor had a room dedicated to performing rituals, though it rarely got any use, and this morning Harry, Croaker, and Bones had gathered to remove the prisoner’s block from Harry’s magic.
Harry’s anticipation of this event was so great that he almost vomited before the ritual could begin. This was the moment that would decide whether his magic would recover from whatever Dumbledore had done to it. Croaker had quickly gathered materials from the Department of Mysteries and reassured Harry as best he could, but there was still a chance that Harry’s magic would never be the same.
Croaker gave Bones an unreadable look, then spoke a phrase in Latin and lowered his wand to a rune stone.
Harry screamed in agony.
He had endured the pain of Voldemort’s cruciatus curse in the graveyard, but this was a different kind of pain. It pulsed through his entire being, and felt like it was pulling something violently out of every pore of his body rather than setting his nerve endings on fire.
Finally, after ten seconds of excruciating torture, it stopped.
Harry lay in the fetal position in the center of the circle, gasping for breath. As the pain decreased, he tried to sit up. But his vision swam and an overwhelming sense of vertigo overtook him. Harry leaned over and vomited violently onto the stone floor of the ritual room. Madam Bones, from her position in the corner of the room, looked between Harry and Croaker in alarm.
“Are you alright, Mr. Potter?” she asked with concern.
Harry wiped the saliva dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded faintly.
“I think so. I don’t really feel much of…oh, wow…”
In the midst of speaking, Harry slumped back to the ground as a wave of giddiness and euphoria overtook him. He couldn’t restrain himself, and giggled madly, as if someone had just whispered an absurdly funny joke in his ear. His head swam with a feeling that he could only think of as ecstasy, and soon his body was shaking as he laughed uncontrollably.
“Algernon, is this supposed to happen?” Bones asked her companion worriedly.
Croaker was watching Harry in fascination. “I don’t know. I’ve only seen this done once, and it wasn’t for a teenager with only a partial block…. Mr. Potter, are you in any pain?”
Harry shook his head and looked up from the ground. His face was bright red and tears were streaming from his eyes, but he had a wide, goofy smile on his face.
“Merlin, no,” he sighed. “This is the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life. I feel…there aren’t words for it. It’s wonderful. Does this mean that my magic is going to be okay?”
Croaker responded cautiously. “It’s too soon to tell, lad. I think what you’re feeling is a good sign, but we need to wait and see if there’s any damage. Someone will be watching over you for the next 24 hours, and you are not to use magic until we say so. Madam Bones will keep your wand so you won’t be tempted to do something stupid.”
Harry nodded and rose from the floor, shuffling almost drunkenly toward the adults with a look of bliss on his face. He patted each of them on the arm, then continued to giggle as he exited the room and stumbled up the steps leading toward the main floor of the Manor.
Bones looked at Croaker with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged in response.
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Hogwarts, Room of Requirement
Two hours before evening curfew on the same day, Parvati Patil sat in a plush chair in the Come-and-Go Room and stared at the small mirror in her hand. Yesterday Harry Potter’s hyper elf had delivered it to her, saying only that Harry would soon contact her through the mirror. This afternoon the elf had popped directly onto her bed, scaring her senseless for a few seconds, and instructed her to be alone in a safe place at 9PM.
It was now two minutes before the designated hour, and she wondered with some apprehension what Harry wanted to say to her. He had already thanked her and Padma for their help in contacting Dinesh, and, though she was curious about what was happening, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get dragged into this situation any further. She felt very lucky that no one had suspected her or Padma of being involved in Harry’s escape from Hogwarts.
She was startled as the mirror buzzed and vibrated, and she looked at its blank face in confusion for a few seconds.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively.
“Parvati?” replied the voice of Harry Potter, followed by his image in the mirror.
“Hi, Harry,” she smiled. “I couldn’t figure out how to use the mirror at first. This is pretty neat.”
“It is pretty neat, isn’t it?” Harry replied, marveling at the image of Parvati’s face reflected in his mirror. “Are you in a safe place?”
“Yes, I think so,” Parvati responded, looking around automatically. “I’m in that room you showed to me and Padma. I’ve been coming here when I want to be alone; it can turn into a spa with lotions, baths, and a sauna,” she grinned.
“Oh,” said Harry, unsure what to say about Parvati using the Come-and-Go Room for such a purpose.
“Well, I, er, wanted to ask you another favor. You can say no,” Harry said hurriedly, “but I thought you might be willing to use the mirror to tell me what’s happening in Hogwarts from time to time.”
Parvati considered for a moment, frowning slightly. “I can do that, Harry, but I don’t want to be your spy. If I start snooping around too much, the Headmaster will get suspicious. And not everybody owns an invisibility cloak, you know?”
Harry nodded into the mirror. “I know, Parvati. I don’t want you to spy; just to let me know every once in a while if something happens. Maybe you could keep an eye on Hermione when she’s in your dorm room, and listen sometimes when she talks to Ron.”
“I can do that, Harry. But I haven’t seen her in a few days. I think she’s still in the hospital wing. What did you do to her?” she asked, a slight hint of accusation in her voice.
Harry sighed. “Nothing; I just tied her up and told her what I thought of her. She couldn’t say anything because of her bloody oaths; I hope it’s torturing her,” he said bitterly.
Parvati frowned at his attitude, but accepted his explanation. She was no great fan of Hermione. “I’ll keep an eye on her, Harry.”
“Thank you, Parvati. Just be safe and don’t take any risks.”
An awkward silence followed Harry’s declaration.
“Are you, er, doing okay?” Parvati asked, not accustomed to making small talk with The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry gave her a genuine smile, one of the few she had ever seen him give. He was still feeling a little giddy from the effects of the ritual that morning.
“I’m feeling much better than I have in a while, Parvati,” said Harry, unconsciously running his hand through his hair. “Dumbledore put some kind of block on my magic, and I had it removed earlier today. It’s too early to tell if there’s damage to my magic, but I feel a thousands times better than I did at Hogwarts.”
“Wow…that’s…” Parvati stammered, eyes slightly wide. “That’s awful. I mean, it’s good that it’s gone, but how can he get away with that?”
“He wouldn’t, normally,” Harry replied, glowering slightly at the thought of Dumbledore. “But since Voldemort is back they’re afraid to do anything to him. Stupid, but there it is.”
“But he can’t get to you now? You’re safe where you are?”
“As safe as I can be,” he answered. “I can’t say where I am, but I’m fairly certain Dumbledore can’t touch me here. I’m starting to figure out what’s going on, too. Dumbledore believes that I have to die in order for Voldemort to die. That’s why he’s been trying to keep me vulnerable, and that’s why Ron and Hermione were arguing; they know all about it.”
Parvati snorted, an action Harry had previously thought her too refined to perform. “I still can’t believe that bossy little bookworm would do that to you; she’s always on some moral crusade or other. Ron, on the other hand…”
“I couldn’t believe it either, at first,” Harry replied sadly. “But it’s true. She’s known since second year. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing they’re wrong. An Unspeakable told me that Dumbledore screwed up somehow—but now there’s some prophecy out there that only Dumbledore knows, and he won’t tell anyone what it says. The old bastard still wants to get his hands on me.”
Parvati’s eyes lit up, and Harry knew instantly he had made a mistake. He should have known better than to mention a prophecy in the presence of one of Trelawney’s devoted disciples.
“Ooohhh,” Parvati cooed with interest. “Do you know who made it? Maybe Professor Trelawney would be able to—,”
But Harry cut her off. “Parvati, wait. I know you like divination, but you can’t tell anyone about this, especially Professor Trelawney, yeah? There’s no telling what that woman would do. You have to swear not to tell anyone. I’m deadly serious.”
“Alright, Harry,” she said after a pause, accepting reluctantly. “But divination isn’t that bad. It’s kind of fun, and Professor Trelawney is really nice outside of class. She’s not crazy like everyone thinks.”
Harry just shook his head and smiled. “Parvati, the woman smells like cooking sherry at eight in the morning. And trust me, divination is less fun when the teacher predicts your death every day.”
Parvati didn’t deign to reply at first, merely sticking out her tongue at Harry.
“Not all magic involves foolish wand-waving, Potter,” Parvati intoned in a terrible imitation of Snape, earning a chuckle from Harry.
“Parvati, you’re not nearly ugly or greasy enough to pull off that voice.”
Parvati looked at him calculatingly for a moment, then smirked. “So does that mean you think I’m pretty, Harry Potter?”
She was rewarded with a blush and a stutter. “Oh…er, well…you know…you’re pretty easy on the eyes, I suppose.”
Parvati burst out laughing. “You are so terrible at talking to girls, Harry. I can’t figure you out. Not afraid to take on Dumbledore and Dark Lords, but terrified of complimenting a girl. I’m not one of Hagrid’s beasts, you know?”
Harry, still blushing, grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ll, er, try to keep that in mind.”
Parvati just rolled her eyes. “What now, then? Are you just going to stay in hiding? How often do you want me to use the mirror?”
The look of embarrassment on Harry’s face was erased instantly, replaced by the hardness Parvati was used to seeing.
“I’m going to be training. I need to learn how to fight, and in a hurry. I find out tomorrow if my magic is okay, and then I’ve got to talk my, er, guardian into training me. I don’t know what Dumbledore is thinking, but I’m not going to sit back and let the old bastard slit my throat because of some bloody prophecy.”
“And what about me and Padma? What do you think we should be doing?” Parvati asked a little hesitantly in the face of his sudden anger.
Harry considered for a moment. “I don’t really know. You could use the room to train too, I suppose; learn how to cast some offensive spells and shields, just in case. I’ve got a feeling that things are going to get bad soon, and you may have to defend yourself. Maybe you should tell your family the truth, and have them be ready or go into hiding somewhere.”
Parvati nodded. “I had already planned to, Harry, but I’m not sure if they’ll believe me. I can’t tell them about helping you—they’d skin me and Padma alive for getting involved with something this dangerous. I don’t even think I’m going to tell Padma about the mirror—she’ll get angry with me for still talking to you.”
That took Harry a little by surprise. “She doesn’t like me at all, does she? Maybe you should listen to her. You don’t have to help me again, you know? You’ve already helped out tremendously.”
Parvati sighed, but didn’t get angry at him like she had earlier. “I can do this much, Harry. I don’t want to fight Death Eaters, but if you need this I can tell you what’s happening here from time to time. I’ll just have to remember to be careful and make sure people aren’t following me to this room….I wouldn’t want to give up my baths,” she smiled.
Harry observed her through the mirror for a moment. Her face was flushed ever so slightly, and he wondered absentmindedly if she was sitting naked in a bath right now. It was an image he didn’t mind dwelling on.
He briefly pondered sending her the Marauder’s Map through Dobby, but it was too precious to him to risk. He had only now learned that it was a family heirloom of sorts, and he had no desire to see it confiscated or destroyed. Perhaps when things calmed down a little and he knew she could be trusted with his secrets, it would be an option.
“Right,” Harry replied. “It would be terrible to have to give up bubble baths…well, er, I think I should be going. Just say my name into the mirror when you have news for me—make sure you’re in a safe place. I’ll try to answer as soon as I can.”
Parvati nodded and smiled. “Sure thing, Harry; stay out of trouble.”
Harry smiled wryly in return. “I’ll try, Parvati, I’ll try.”
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October 10th, 1995 – Bones Manor
There was trouble the next day, but not the kind Harry was expecting.
As was fast becoming his habit while a guest at Bones Manor, Harry woke early and showered before heading to breakfast. Madam Bones was rarely there, but she had instructed her elves to watch Harry and take care of all his needs, not that Dobby couldn’t do so on his own. Tonks had shown up in the afternoon for the past three days, and Harry expected her to do so again.
So far Harry had confined himself to his quarters or the dining room when Madam Bones was absent. He was a guest here, and felt it would be rude to wander the huge manor home without an escort. He had seen no sign of Susan’s presence save a few pictures on the walls, but felt no desire to search out her bedroom. Though he wouldn’t mind exploring outdoors and going for a fly, Madam Bones had forbidden him to leave the house, and his broom was currently in her possession. There was nothing for it but to sit in his room and think.
This morning he was eating breakfast alone in the brightly-lit dining room of Bones Manor when Dobby popped in with a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry groaned when he saw the headline.
The-Boy-Who-Lived Goes Missing
By Rita Skeeter
The Daily Prophet has learned that Harry Potter has been missing for almost a week. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who is also Mr. Potter’s legal guardian, spread the story that the boy was quarantined in St. Mungo’s with a contagious disease, but St. Mungo’s assures us that Mr. Potter is not a patient there. Ministry sources confirm that Mr. Potter fled Hogwarts of his own free will.
Rumors abound that irrefutable proof of Mr. Potter’s guilt in the murder of Cedric Diggory has finally surfaced, forcing the cowardly teen to flee the justice of the wizarding world. It is believed that Headmaster Dumbledore is aware of his whereabouts. Just why would Headmaster Dumbledore try to cover up the young man’s guilt? And why would he place the other students of Hogwarts in such danger?
Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, had this to say: “The Headmaster’s criminal activities will no longer be tolerated. Several influential members of the Wizengamot have pledged to call an emergency meeting this afternoon and demand answers. The safety of our children has been jeopardized, and Albus Dumbledore no longer has the best interests of the wizarding world at heart. Perhaps it is time for him to step down as Chief Warlock and Headmaster.”
We will keep you posted, dear readers, as this situation develops.
Harry balled up the paper and tossed it in the direction of the fire that was burning constantly in this room. He was sick of being slandered in the press, and wanted desperately to take action against someone, anyone. At least Dumbledore is getting slammed too, he thought bitterly. Maybe the Wizengamot will be able to force him to tell the truth for once.
Harry wondered what the reaction in Hogwarts would be to this news. The student population had indeed been told that he was quarantined due to a contagious disease, and the blatant falsehood of that claim would now be evident to all. Would they believe the tripe that was printed in Skeeter’s article, or would some of them begin to doubt the ridiculous stories being told about him?
Harry wasn’t aware of it, but Malfoy had chosen this time to reveal Harry’s disappearance to Fudge. His plan was to remove Dumbledore from his positions of influence before the revelation of the Dark Lord’s return. Dumbledore’s lack of official power, coupled with the assassination of his Wizengamot allies, would strike a mortal blow to Voldemort’s opposition.
I wonder what Parvati can tell me about all this, Harry thought, leaving the room to track down his communication mirror.
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October 10th, 1995 – Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Chambers
“Chief Warlock, what have you to say about Lord Malfoy’s accusations?”
Dumbledore stood wearily from his throne-like chair at the center of the assembly. Malfoy and his allies in the Wizengamot had just taken him to task for concealing Harry Potter’s disappearance, and now they were likely about to call for his head. He had known the ‘contagious disease’ excuse would only work for a few days, but he had hoped to recover Harry before his lie could be exposed.
Dumbledore’s eyes moved slowly across the assembled faces in the formal chambers of the Wizengamot. In this room were representatives of the so-called “Old Families,” the small group of 77 pureblood families who had consolidated power 500 years ago from the remnants of the old Wizard Council. His allies among these families had slowly been dying of old age, and at present he was unsure whether he retained enough support to maintain his position as Chief Warlock.
Dumbledore himself was not descended from one of the old families, but no Chief Warlock ever had been. The position of Chief Warlock had been established as a way to check the power of any single faction of families, one of the few nods the council made toward checks and balances in government. While Dumbledore’s neutral status allowed him great influence, the position was essentially created to stop rival pureblood families from murdering one another.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, the claims made against me are slanderous in the extreme. I have kept nothing of importance from your eyes, including the location of Harry Potter. Are we to believe the claims of the Daily Prophet over my own? Do you truly believe that I would protect a criminal from the justice of the law? I assure you that Mr. Potter is simply ill, and until we can determine the nature of his illness, it is best that he remain quarantined. While it is true that he is not in the care of St. Mungo’s, I thought it best to conceal his true location to prevent unnecessary harassment of the boy.”
Minister Fudge, who presided over Wizengamot meetings when the Chief Warlock was unavailable or on trial, responded angrily. “Poppycock, Dumbledore. Dolores Umbridge has informed me that the boy was in perfect health until he suddenly went missing. You are covering up for the boy’s obvious guilt, and it’s time you and he both be made to answer for Cedric Diggory’s death.”
There were murmurs of agreement from among the assembled group. Dumbledore had possessed enough influence to quash an investigation into Harry’s role in Cedric’s death, but that was now months ago and his influence was waning.
“I assure you, Cornelius, that I have the best interests of the wizarding world at heart, and there is no conspiracy to protect Mr. Potter from justice. He did not kill Cedric Diggory, and I resent the implication that I am involved in concealing the truth of the matter,” Dumbledore responded coldly.
“Then where is Mr. Potter, Headmaster, and why will you not allow us to question him?” inquired Lucius Malfoy smoothly. “You have not answered the accusations against you with evidence. You have merely asked us to trust you.”
There were more murmurs of agreement among the members.
Malfoy continued after a dramatic pause. “I for one grow weary of the incompetence with which you are running Hogwarts. Perhaps it is time for a person of your advanced age to relinquish some of your responsibilities? Surely Hogwarts would benefit from having your undivided attention.”
Here it comes, thought Dumbledore bitterly.
“I propose,” said Malfoy regally, “that Headmaster Dumbledore be removed from his position as Chief Warlock, effective immediately. It is time for a younger and less—compromised—wizard to take the position.”
“I second the motion,” spoke Damian Snodgrass, an elderly wizard whose family had been allied with Malfoy’s for generations.
“Very well,” spoke Minister Fudge, unable to conceal his smile. “Dumbledore, as per custom, you are to be absent from the room while this motion is debated. You will be summoned when a decision has been reached.”
Dumbledore looked once more upon the assembled crowd. “I ask only that you think carefully about your decision,” he said gravely. “There are dark times ahead for our world, and it would be a grave mistake to remove me from my position because of hearsay and slander. Thank you,” he said, and swept imperiously from the chamber, fully aware of the smug smirk that Lucius Malfoy had sent his way.
Dumbledore walked furiously through the Ministry corridors toward his office as Chief Warlock. He had expected a power play soon, but could only hope against hope that it would fail. His delicate plans had been unraveling frighteningly fast over the past few days, and there was little he could do to stop it. Even Minerva, his loyal deputy, had inquired sharply this morning about just what was happening, and he had been forced to politely brush her off.
He had planned everything so thoroughly that it never should have come to this. Harry had been in a position to die at Voldemort’s hands several times now, and each time the boy had escaped in some miraculous fashion. He should never have been in a position to discover the necessity of his own death. Now he had run, and the situation grew more ominous with each passing day.
Dumbledore’s increasingly desperate thoughts continued as he reached his office and resisted the temptation to blast down the door. Everyone would be demanding his counsel when Voldemort made his presence known, but for the moment he felt trapped. Short of a violent coup, there was little he could do. He had recruited a small band of people willing to fight Voldemort, but if the situation continued he would need the support of Bones and Croaker, and they didn’t trust him at the moment.
Algernon’s scathing rejection of horcruxes as a means of achieving immortality had initially stunned him. He had gone to so much trouble tracking the blasted things down. Had it all been for nothing? Even if it were, Dumbledore reflected, it did not change the landscape of the coming fight. The prophecy made it necessary that his plans for Harry Potter go forward.
But it was looking increasingly likely that he would have to reveal the prophecy to Amelia and Algernon.
It would then be imperative to convince them of the necessity of his plan to sacrifice Harry Potter. Even if they refused to handicap the fight, they would have to see the inevitability of the confrontation and send the boy immediately into the fray.
His plan to sacrifice Harry had been premised on the assumption that Harry was helpless, and that it would be a waste of time, resources, and lives to train him to defeat Voldemort. He still believed that to be true—training Harry would only prolong the conflict and cause a war of attrition that could bleed the wizarding world dry. If the prophecy were no longer operative, he and his allies would be free to destroy the Dark Lord.
But even if Harry was no longer a helpless child, it was exceedingly unlikely that he could last longer than ten seconds in a fair fight against Voldemort. Still, thought Dumbledore, perhaps Harry could pull off some miracle again. He seems to have an abundance of extraordinary luck.
Dumbledore felt the walls slowly closing in, and knew that the Dark Lord’s public return was imminent. Malfoy was clearly trying to remove him as an obstacle prior to the commencement of their plans. If only Severus knew the details, Dumbledore thought dejectedly.
Time was now of the essence, and they were running out of it quickly.
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Bones Manor, Dueling Room
“Confringo!” muttered Harry Potter fiercely, jabbing his wand forward.
A split second later a marble block on the other side of the room exploded into deadly shrapnel.
“Cor, Harry,” exclaimed Tonks from his side, where she had been shielding both herself and Harry from the effects of the curse. “That was some blaster.”
Harry turned and smiled sheepishly at her. “I was imagining Dumbledore standing there.”
Croaker snorted and moved out of the shadows, where he and Madam Bones had been observing the testing. “Easy now, lad. Dumbledore is a right bastard, but he’s not your biggest problem. Don’t forget that.”
“I agree, Mr. Potter,” said Bones. “We will sort out Dumbledore, but you must remember that he’s not the real enemy. I must agree with Auror Tonks that your offensive spells are impressive. Were they always that powerful?”
Harry thought for a moment. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I’m not sure when Dumbledore put that block on my magic. Why would I have gotten more powerful?”
Croaker responded thoughtfully. “Hard to say, Mr. Potter. I can only surmise that it is the result of your conflict with the Dark Lord following his resurrection. You said you felt exhilarated after the wands locked and that something leapt from his wand to yours, did you not?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, “but I don’t remember the end of that fight clearly. I was really light-headed and then Fawkes flashed in and grabbed us.”
“Well,” said Croaker, stroking his short goatee in the stereotypical professorial fashion, “I would speculate—and this is still a guess, mind you—that the Dark Lord has been leeching magic from you all these years. That ritual he performed creates a link between the caster and the victim, and that link may be what allowed him to survive the killing curse.”
Harry looked between Tonks and Bones, but they looked to be just as confused as he was.
“I don’t understand....” Harry began. “How did he survive exactly?”
“As I said, Mr. Potter,” replied Croaker, who was now staring absentmindedly at the ceiling, “I do not know for certain, but it seems to have been purely by accident. The Dark Lord may have been sustaining himself on your magic for the past fourteen years—in essence stealing it to remain alive, even if disembodied. As you became more powerful so did he. When you locked wands with him, it would seem that some of that stolen magic was returned to you…In any event, I think we should be pleased with the results of the removal ritual, yes?”
“Very much so,” Harry sighed. “I just hope that my transfiguration works itself out.”
“Be patient, lad. It will take some practice to adjust to your new situation.”
For the past three hours, Harry had been performing various kinds of spells under the watchful eyes of Croaker, Bones, and Tonks. It was necessary to test him thoroughly for possible damage resulting from the removal of Dumbledore’s prisoner’s block. Harry’s considerable skill at offensive curses—particularly blasting curses—was immediately noticeable, but so was his ineptitude at transfiguration.
Transfiguration was a difficult art that required finesse, and it seemed that his ability to master it may have been permanently damaged. Bones had asked him to turn a small block of wood into a toad, and Harry had somehow transfigured it into a loathsome cross between a slug and a salamander. The poor creature had three eyes and an extra leg sticking out of its forehead. Only time would tell if he could regain control of his transfiguration skills.
“Well, Mr. Potter,” said Amelia Bones, “we are all agreed that your prognosis is very good. Your magic appears to be stronger than ever, in some cases much too strong for a young man of your age. The transfiguration exercises did give you trouble, but if that is the only consequence of removing the block you should count yourself very lucky.”
Harry nodded, and wondered just how powerful he now was. He couldn’t wait to start training.
“So I can start some training tomorrow then?” he asked hopefully.
Bones nodded. “We’ll do what we can, Mr. Potter. We all agree that continuing the Hogwarts curriculum is pointless for you at this point. For the moment Auror Tonks will remain here to continue testing you and to show you some Auror-level techniques and spells. I would not ordinarily allow a 15-year-old access to such information, but I fear that you will have no choice but to fight soon. If you progress rapidly we shall see about adding other tutors; right now there is no one to spare, and too much to do at the Ministry.”
“I understand,” said Harry sincerely. “And I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Can you tell me more about what’s going on with Voldemort? Why can’t you just tell everyone he’s back again?”
Bones sighed and looked wearily at Croaker. “It’s complicated, Mr. Potter. I am appointed to my position, as are most Ministry employees. Minister Fudge would brand me a liar and have me removed if I simply told the truth. You saw what happened to Professor Dumbledore this afternoon. The best we can do right now is gather allies within the Auror Corps and elsewhere within the Ministry, and prepare a plan if the worst should come to pass.”
“Does this mean that Dumbledore will get kicked out of Hogwarts too?” Harry asked, somewhat eagerly.
Parvati had informed him that the school was in an uproar over that morning’s Daily Prophet, with everyone speculating on where Harry was and what was happening. Dumbledore’s later removal from the position of Chief Warlock had only added fuel to that fire.
“No, Mr. Potter,” replied Croaker, “that is unlikely. The Hogwarts Board of Governors operates independently, for now, of the Ministry. And you should pray that he remains there; it would be a disaster for Dumbledore to be removed from Hogwarts.”
“Alright,” Harry grumbled. “I just want to see him pay for what he’s done to me.”
“Give it time, Mr. Potter,” said Bones. “We have more important matters to attend to, and frankly Dumbledore’s crimes against you will have to wait. We will do what we can to force the contents of the prophecy from him, but the Headmaster is a very powerful wizard, and we are going to need him if the worst comes to pass.”
Bones knew Harry would be unsatisfied with that response, but she felt it unwise to tell him just how bad ‘the worst’ could be. With Fudge denying Voldemort’s return, the Ministry’s security was abysmal. A concerted attack on the Ministry would likely overwhelm it before an organized defense could form.
Even worse was the possibility that an attack wouldn’t even be necessary. If Fudge and Malfoy were conspiring, it was within the realm of possibility that Voldemort’s representatives could seize political power without a major battle. That would allow the Dark Lord access to priceless and dangerous artifacts as well as confidential information about the wizarding public.
She and Algernon were making plans to remove the most essential information and artifacts from the Ministry should it fall. She was also compiling a list of people who would be likely enemies of the Dark Lord, and would soon counsel them to go into hiding or to arrange wartime security. Even the families of muggleborn wizards and witches would have to be informed, as their safety could soon be very much in jeopardy.
The clock was ticking, and there was just not time enough to prepare adequately for the trial to come.
It was a very somber group that exited the Bones Manor dueling room that evening.
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A/N: Next chapter, Harry finally gets some ‘real’ training, Bones and Croaker confront Dumbledore again, and Voldemort grows ready to unleash hell. Thanks for reading!