The Potter Conspiracy
A/N: Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed! Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I’m just having fun with them.
Chapter Twenty-One – The Burning Day
October 21st, 1995 – Bones Manor Library
“Hello, Harry.”
Harry stared at the mirror in horror. Panic flooded his veins, and he breathed deeply to calm his racing heart. If Dumbledore had the mirror, that meant he had Parvati. He shot up from his chair and began pacing the library like a caged animal.
“How did you get the mirror, you bastard?”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Harry’s language. “That is no way to speak to your guardian, Harry. I simply borrowed the mirror from Miss Patil. She and Miss Granger were very forthcoming.”
“I’ll bet they were. Where is Parvati? You couldn’t have answered the mirror without her.”
“She has returned to her quarters. I assure you that she is well.”
“If you hurt Parvati I’ll skin you alive and feed you to the foulest creature I can find, old man. Do you fucking hear me?”
“It hurts me to hear you say that, Harry. Those are not the words of a Light wizard. I have no intention of harming Miss Patil. Rather, I think your concern for her should encourage you to do your duty. That is what I wish to discuss with you.”
“And what is my duty, according to you?” Harry asked through gritted teeth, though he already knew the answer.
“You know what I ask of you, Mr. Potter. There is no longer any need for pretense, so let us speak together as men. It is time for you to recognize that there are more important things than an individual life. Than your life. While you remain alive, no one else can kill Voldemort. It is as simple as that.”
Harry snorted in disbelief at Dumbledore’s blunt assessment. “So you want me to sacrifice myself, in hopes that you’ll be able to kill him later? What if I’m the only one who can do it? What if my death will make Voldemort invincible? That’s what the prophecy implies. Yet here you are trying to kill me and my friends. Are you crazy or just evil?”
“I assure you I am neither. The prophecy does not state that you are the only one who can kill Voldemort—only that one of you must die at the other’s hands. You are not ready to kill the Dark Lord in combat, and you never will be. It would take months, maybe years, of training, to give you a fighting chance. In the meantime the Dark Lord will destroy thousands of innocent lives. Are you truly so selfish as to value your own life above those of so many others?”
Harry flushed in anger at Dumbledore’s rebuke. The man’s audacity truly knew no bounds.
“How fucking dare you say that! I’m not selfish; I’m just trying to stay alive! Croaker thinks you’re wrong. So does Madam Bones. And I know you’re wrong. You’re going about things backwards, trying to force a prophecy into fulfillment. You can’t do that!”
“Are you an expert on the subject of prophecies, Harry? I have decades more experience than you, and I assure you that this is the only way. I regret the necessity of it, truly I do, but there is no other way to defeat Voldemort permanently. You must do your duty to others.”
“Listen to you!” Harry erupted, outraged. “My duty to others?! You’re the one who’s tried to kill me multiple times. You’re the one who murdered Sirius Black! What about your duty to others? Why don’t you go sacrifice yourself to make it easier for me, you self-righteous prick?”
Dumbledore didn’t flinch at the mention of Sirius’ name, nor did he deny anything. “Whatever I have done, I have done for the greater good. I am rooted firmly in the Light. I take no pleasure in suffering, Harry, but the happiness of an individual is of no consequence compared to the happiness of an entire civilization. Were you a leader of men, you would understand this. I am doing my duty, just as I ask you to do yours.”
“You bloody hypocrite. You try to murder babies and you condemn innocent men to Azkaban. You kidnap innocent girls and send your henchmen to murder students. I’m convinced you murdered my parents too. Those are not the actions of a Light wizard, Headmaster,” Harry spat.
Dumbledore regarded Harry calmly, unperturbed by the young man’s anger.
“Again, my boy, you do not have the benefit of my experience,” he said sagely, ignoring Harry’s accusations. “Let me ask you a question. If you were faced with a choice between the life of a single child and the lives of thousands, which would you choose? It is an awful choice, admittedly, but who in their right mind would not sacrifice the child? I am truly sorry for it, Harry, but you are that child.”
“No,” Harry replied lowly, trying to overcome his rage. “That’s not what the prophecy says. There was never a choice! There’s just your cocked up sense of morality making a mess of things. If you had trained me to fight instead of trying to get me killed, none of this would have happened!”
Dumbledore sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “It is too late to wonder about that now, Harry. Things have gone too far. The wizarding world is in great peril, and your killing of Severus was a devastating blow to our side, as was your maiming of Alastor. The situation cannot be allowed to deteriorate further. I beseech you to think about this objectively. While you train to fight, you are condemning all of wizarding Britain to darkness. Thousands will be lost. You are simply not ready to defeat Voldemort.”
“How do you know?! I don’t see you breaking down his door to fight him, and you fancy yourself the greatest wizard of the age! I’ve beaten him every time I’ve faced him, even when I was an infant. I’m supposed to have a power he doesn’t, and by Merlin I’m going to use it to kill the bastard.”
“And what is that power, Harry?” Dumbledore asked softly. “You have no idea what it is, nor do I. The truth is that you have survived so far through a combination of luck and coincidence. You are 15 years old. You are simply not ready to defeat a Dark Lord. It is time for you to stand aside and let others do what you cannot.”
Harry sighed in exasperation and ran his hands through his hair. He was finally confronting the man who had condemned him to a life of privation and suffering, and it was like arguing with a brick wall. Dumbledore’s sheer obstinacy amazed him.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to lay this at my feet. It’s not my fault that I need time to train. It’s not my fault. You’re the one who concealed everything from the Ministry. If you hadn’t been hell bent on killing me, they would have been prepared.”
“It is of no consequence now, Harry. You must return to Hogwarts. It is time for us to end this once and for all. We will set a trap for Voldemort to the best of our ability, and you will get your chance to demonstrate the ‘power he knows not.’ We had planned a raid on Malfoy Manor, but with the death of Severus, that option is no longer available to us. You should not have killed him, Harry.”
Harry stared at his former Headmaster incredulously.
“You’re crazy. Absolutely batshit insane. Fuck Snape; fuck Moody; and fuck you. I’m not going anywhere near Hogwarts.”
“You must, Harry. It is not only your life that hangs in the balance. You know I speak the truth, as hard as it may be to hear. I propose an exchange of sorts: yourself for Misses Patil and Granger. Meet me in one hour at the castle gates, and come alone. Think it through, if you care for them. I know you will do the right thing.”
Dumbledore ended the conversation before Harry could respond, and he had to resist the urge to hurl the mirror against the wall of the library. He had known the instant he saw Dumbledore’s face what would be asked of him. The old man just refused to give up.
Harry continued to pace angrily around the room, thinking hard. He was half-tempted to go to Hogwarts by himself, just for a chance to kill Dumbledore. But even in his anger he knew that was a terrible idea. He needed sound advice from someone who would be sympathetic to his situation.
He needed to talk to Madam Bones.
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Exactly one hour later, Harry sat at the desk in his bedroom and stared disconsolately at the Marauder’s Map. Neither Parvati nor Hermione were on it, but he knew from his experience with the Chamber of Secrets that the map wasn’t complete. Dumbledore likely had access to private rooms that no student had ever seen. The old man himself was likewise nowhere to be found.
He pondered whether Hermione had betrayed him once more, but he thought it unlikely. She had seemed genuinely sincere in her repentance, and her oaths to him would prevent her from participating in such a plot. Still, he thought it possible that the Headmaster had somehow manipulated her again.
Dumbledore’s deadline had just passed, and now they would see if Bones and Croaker truly had the measure of the man. They had assured Harry that Dumbledore would not murder anyone in cold blood, despite the implied threat he had made to Harry. Harry was loath to bank Parvati’s life on their reassurances, but he could think of no better plan than what they proposed.
With Hogwarts locked down, there was no chance that an old-fashioned rescue mission would succeed. Their only operative in Dumbledore’s Order, Tonks, was now likely compromised by Parvati’s capture. Dobby could pop to Hogwarts, but the Headmaster had apparently warded his office and quarters against all house elves. They could not communicate with the girls, nor could they supply them with food or weapons. In short, their options were severely limited.
Harry tore his eyes away from the map and looked at the blank parchment on his desk. He now had a very important letter to write. When he was finished, the letter would be duplicated and signed by Bones and Croaker. Dobby would then pop to Hogwarts to make a few special deliveries. Never had so much depended on Harry’s letter-writing skills, and he was desperate to find the right words.
Dear Professor McGonagall…he began writing.
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October 22nd, 1995 – Bones Manor, Breakfast Room
“Bloody hell,” Tonks groaned.
“It’s worse than we thought,” said Madam Bones, furrowing her brow in irritation.
She, Tonks, Croaker and Mockridge were leaning over the table in the breakfast room, staring at the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry and Susan were silently eating breakfast, more or less oblivious to the commotion of the adults. The group had expected an official Ministry response to the previous night’s raid on Gringotts, but the news was even worse than anticipated.
Terrorists Wanted for Murder and Theft
By Rita Skeeter
The Daily Prophet has learned the details surrounding a cowardly assault against Ministry Aurors last night outside Gringotts Bank. A deadly exchange of spell fire left three Aurors dead and six wounded. The brave Aurors were attempting to apprehend criminals who had just murdered goblins and wizards alike in an attempt to rob Gringotts.
Who are these brazen criminals, you ask?
Dear reader, they were led by none other than Harry Potter. The murderer of Cedric Diggory has finally shown us his true colors. It is widely believed that Potter is conspiring with Amelia Bones, disgraced former Director of the DMLE, and Algernon Croaker, former Head of the Unspeakables, to sow discord in wizarding Britain. Their group has swayed a small band of former Ministry employees to join their cause, which is to destroy the fragile peace that Minister Fudge successfully negotiated.
Percy Weasley, a spokesman for the Minister, had this to say: “The people who perpetrated this crime are traitors to magical Britain. They are murderers and thieves, determined to spread terror in the populace and undermine the peace that Minister Fudge restored to us. They will be brought to justice, and anyone providing aid to these traitors will be dealt with harshly. The Ministry will soon be adopting rigorous new security measures to safeguard the peace.”
Indeed, Mr. Weasley presented us with the names of 44 wizards and witches who are wanted for questioning in connection with the events of last night. A reward of 10,000 galleons is being offered for the capture of any of these individuals, dead or alive. See page 2 for the list of wanted wizards and witches.
“This is outrageous! Surely no one will believe this rubbish,” said Mockridge incredulously. “Honestly! Those people were alive when we left the bank.”
Bones shook her head sadly. “With the state the goblins were in, they probably executed the poor buggers out of spite. What are the goblins likely to do about this, Cuthbert?”
Mockridge stepped back from the group and seated himself in one of the chairs next to Harry, who was poking absentmindedly at his breakfast. After considering for a moment, he responded. “They won’t close their doors. There’s too much money to be made in a war. They’ll play both sides, but it won’t surprise me at all if Malfoy has bribed them to cooperate with the Ministry in all things.”
“This cannot be allowed to stand,” said Croaker forcefully, and all heads turned toward him. He too had moved away from the group, and was staring at the wall as he stroked his goatee. “Fudge and Malfoy are going to sink us with propaganda. We must fight back with the truth or the war will be lost before it truly begins. The bloody bastards didn’t even mention the chaos in the muggle world last night.”
“You’re right, Algernon,” Bones sighed. “But how? The Ministry controls the Prophet, and no other paper is foolish enough to print what we have to say. We can distribute flyers easily enough, but most of the populace is staying at home, worried about what’s happening.”
“What about the wireless?” suggested Tonks. “We could seize the building and then say whatever we want to the whole of magical Britain.”
“That…” said Bones, pausing to think it over, “has potential. But we wouldn’t be able to hold the building against a sustained assault. We could perhaps occupy it for an hour or two. That might be enough time to get the truth out.”
“That could work,” Croaker agreed. “The people need to know to stay far away from the Ministry.”
“A raid on the wizarding wireless?” asked Mockridge skeptically. “Wouldn’t they have made it impenetrable since the treaty?”
“Hard to say,” replied Bones. “We would have to do a little reconnaissance. Unless they’ve strengthened the wards dramatically, it wouldn’t be hard at all to take the building for a short period of time. Auror Tonks, it was your idea; you get to gather a team of three and stake the place out. Come see me when you’ve got your team together; perhaps Mr. Potter will let you borrow that marvelous cloak of his?”
“Huh?” Harry asked, his head rising from the contemplation of the uneaten eggs on his plate. Despite the direness of this morning’s news, he found himself unable to care. He was focused on the fact that Dumbledore was holding Parvati and Hermione hostage, and that they had yet to receive a response to the letters Dobby delivered.
“I was suggesting that perhaps Auror Tonks could make use of your cloak on her mission…” replied Bones.
“Oh. Sure,” Harry replied vaguely, his gaze returning to his food.
“It’ll work out, Harry; you’ll see,” Tonks said softly, and Harry nodded his head. He knew that they had bigger problems than two imprisoned teenage girls, but he couldn’t focus on anything else at the moment. It didn’t help that no one else seemed terribly worried about the girls. They were just relieved that Harry hadn’t done anything foolish and brave.
Bones and Croaker had convinced him the previous evening that Dumbledore had nothing to gain and much to lose from their deaths. The old man’s influence and reputation were at an all-time low, and they didn’t believe his colleagues at Hogwarts would stand for the girls to come to harm.
So Harry had composed letters to McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra, explaining the situation and desperately hoping that they would intercede. Bones and Croaker were banking everything on Dumbledore’s unwillingness to make himself a public villain. Harry’s own experience told him that the Headmaster would do literally anything to get his way, but he finally conceded to the others’ understanding of the man.
Dobby had delivered the letters at 6AM this morning. It was now after 9AM, and Harry was hopeful that McGonagall would be concerned enough to gather her peers and confront Dumbledore. The letters had been signed by Bones and Croaker, and were as authentic, sincere, and pleading as Harry could make them. Now it was up to the Hogwarts faculty. Dobby was watching and listening in the castle, waiting for an opportunity to bring Harry news.
“I’m heading back upstairs,” Harry said to the room at large. He wanted to be alone while he waited. Despite the girls’ absence from the Marauder’s Map, it was somehow comforting to him to watch the activity taking place at Hogwarts.
Concerned glances were exchanged throughout the breakfast room as Harry departed.
Harry’s emotions had been pulled in so many different directions in the past 48 hours that he felt completely spent. He had faced the traitor who had caused his parents’ deaths; he had faced a traitorous best friend who wanted to redeem herself; he had fought for his life and been forced to kill again; he had confronted the obstinate man who had cruelly manipulated his life, only to be accused of selfishness and murder. Now the same man was holding his oldest and newest friends hostage.
He wasn’t sure he could bear it if Parvati came to some harm because she had helped him.
His mind a whirlwind of emotion, Harry trudged to his room and the waiting map. Activating it with dread, he swept his eyes over the old parchment restlessly. Dumbledore was in his office alone. McGonagall was meeting with Sprout in the transfiguration classroom, so perhaps they were deciding how to confront Dumbledore.
His eyes traveled to Gryffindor tower, and he noticed wistfully that the Weasley twins were alone in their dorm room with Lee Jordan, probably conspiring to unleash mayhem despite the dark times. It hurt him that he could no longer be a part of the typical day at Hogwarts.
So much had changed so quickly. He had severed ties almost completely with his former life, and he still resented Hermione’s attempt to force herself back into her old position. He had grown much closer to Parvati, something that would have seemed absurd only two months ago. The only thing he now knew for certain was that he wanted the crazy rollercoaster ride to slow down.
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October 22nd, 1995 – Diagon Alley
Lucius Malfoy could not resist smiling as he listened to the nearby conversation. He was polyjuiced as a non-descript muggle but dressed in elaborate gray wizarding robes. He wanted to see the effects of his planning in person, but knew it was foolish to go about Diagon Alley as himself. He was not wanted by the Ministry—far from it—but he was aware that his capture by Bones or Dumbledore would be a crushing blow to his Master.
He was accompanied by Corwin Travers, a 44-year-old Death Eater whom Malfoy had personally selected to oversee his new Auror recruits. Travers had been a Death Eater since the first war, and was notorious for having captured and killed the McKinnons in an ingenious trap. He wasn’t very powerful magically, but he was far more intelligent than the average follower of the Dark Lord. Malfoy knew he could count on the man not to make foolish mistakes.
Leaning against the wall of an abandoned store, Malfoy and Travers were in a position to do some casual reconnaissance of the atmosphere in Diagon Alley. What they saw pleased them.
“And I’m telling you you’re on my list, sir. It’s as simple as that.”
“I don’t care what your bloody list says, Auror. I’m not going anywhere with you or your friends. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
The man on the Auror’s list was named Ernest Blackburn. He was a middle-aged half-blood who worked in an apothecary near Diagon Alley. Malfoy wasn’t sure how his name had appeared on the “detain” list, but the man likely had some connection to other wanted individuals. If not, at least there was another mongrel off the streets. He listened keenly to the confrontation.
“Then you’ve got nothing to be worried about, Mister Blechburn,” sneered another Auror, deliberately butchering the man’s name. “We just want to ask you some questions about your loyalties. You have some questionable associations.”
Blackburn stared at his accusers in alarm. “I don’t know anybody on that damned list in the Prophet!” he shouted, drawing the attention of other passersby in the Alley. “You’re insane!”
“All the same…” smiled the first Auror as his partner stunned Blackburn in the back. “I think you’ll be coming with us.”
He grabbed the slumped Blackburn by the arm and apparated away with him, leaving his partner to disperse the gathering crowd.
“Nothing to see here, you imbeciles,” he glared at them, gesturing threateningly with his wand. “The man was a criminal who was resisting arrest. Go on about your business.”
Malfoy smiled to himself as the scant shoppers did exactly that, hurrying away from the scene. Diagon Alley was busier than usual this day, as people had come to gawk at the sight of the night’s previous battle. The destruction of Fortescue’s two weeks previously had made a virtual ghost town out of the Alley for several days. When the Ministry announced its new peace plan and there was no new violence from his Master, people had slowly trickled back.
“Satisfied?” asked Travers.
“Very,” replied Malfoy. “Just be sure the idiots know not to start throwing around killing curses in broad daylight. Let’s see what’s happening closer to Gringotts.”
Malfoy and Travers ambled slowly down the Alley, observing things as they went. Today the Alley was crawling with Aurors, most of them performing random searches of shoppers. The same thing was happening in Hogsmeade. It was a symbolic show of force, for the most part, but citizens would soon discover that they were not reassured by the presence of so many Aurors. The “new peace” was being maintained by men who lacked the typical courtesy and deference of Ministry employees.
Malfoy’s new Aurors, now numbering more than 60, were only nominally connected to the DMLE. They wore Auror uniforms, and had the rights of Aurors, but they reported directly to Malfoy and Travers. They were recruited mostly from the families of purebloods who were in Malfoy’s debt, the vast majority of them recent alumni of Slytherin House. A few were simple thugs recruited from Europe who were good with a wand and willing to obey orders for the right price. Their ranks were swelling daily, despite the losses inflicted by Bones and her renegade Aurors on the previous evening.
The ‘real’ DMLE, now numbering only 32 Aurors after the defection of almost half their number to Bones, was composed either of purebloods or those who were blindly loyal to the Ministry. They were officially led by Gawain Robards, who fell into the blindly loyal category, but Robards was taking his orders from Fudge, who was taking his orders from Malfoy. The original Aurors had found themselves relegated to guard duty at important wizarding institutions.
The real work was being done by Lucius’ new recruits. He had created a list of undesirables, now several hundred names long, and distributed it to his men. Officially the people on the list were merely “wanted for questioning,” but those apprehended would never be heard from again if he had anything to say about it. And he had a lot to say about it.
With Fudge’s capitulation and the neutering of the Wizengamot, Lucius was essentially in charge of the wizarding government. He knew he needed to crush the opposition before it had a chance to form; if things lasted too long, they simply lacked the manpower to rule wizarding Britain. He wasn’t certain that even his Master could prove victorious if all of Britain rose up in arms against him.
The key was to kill those who offered resistance, and to neutralize those who might offer resistance in the future. Mudbloods, of course, would simply be killed or enslaved. The rest of the population would be forced over time to take binding oaths of loyalty to the Ministry and its agents; eventually there would be no one left to fight back. They would take the oath or die.
“How many have we retrieved from the list so far?” Malfoy inquired as he and Travers passed a small curio shop where an obese woman was arguing loudly with a pair of his Aurors. She had just been told that the Ministry’s taxes on her business would be increasing by more than 200 percent. It didn’t pay to be a half-blood in the present climate.
“47,” replied Travers. “A lot of people have gone to ground, but we’ll get them. So far only a handful has fled to Hogwarts.”
“Good. Don’t engage anyone near Hogwarts just yet. There’s too much risk. Do what you can to prevent them from making it that far. We need to control Hogsmeade before we can quarantine Hogwarts.”
As the duo approached Gringotts, now guarded by two dozen fearsome-looking goblin warriors, Malfoy couldn’t help but feel a sense of self-satisfaction. He knew that he was the sole reason that his Master’s plans were moving forward successfully. He had been thorough and meticulous in his planning, while his Master’s own plans were looking increasingly foolhardy. The man was so thirsty for bloodshed that he was putting them all at risk.
It certainly didn’t help that the Death Eaters were dropping like flies due to their own incompetence. Rabastan Lestrange had somehow been tossed from a window by a little girl; the idiot clearly hadn’t been recovered enough from Azkaban to return to fighting. Snape and Pettigrew were both missing, and Malfoy suspected that both had been captured. He didn’t believe that either would truly defect—he knew Snape despised Dumbledore—but their lack of communication did not bode well.
Nor did it bode well that the next generation of Death Eaters was currently trapped within the walls of Hogwarts. The Dark Lord had insisted that Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and the others remain at Hogwarts to observe Dumbledore and participate in possible future operations there. His Master knew that the boys could easily be captured and held for ransom, but he simply didn’t care. His lack of concern for the well-being of his followers extended to their families, and there was nothing to be done about it.
It was increasingly apparent that they would stand or fall based on his own plans for the Ministry. There was still much confusion among the various employees there. Once they had cleared out all opposition in the key departments, it would be easier to recruit fresh and competent Death Eaters. The key would be convincing his Master not to use them in a full-on battle against the resistance just yet.
They were not yet ready for an actual war.
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Hogwarts Castle, outside the Headmaster’s Office
“You are certain about this, Minerva? This isn’t a hoax of some kind?” asked Aurora Sinistra hesitantly.
“I’m certain that we don’t understand what’s happening, and the Headmaster does,” McGonagall replied curtly. She looked around at the small group that had assembled outside the Headmaster’s gargoyle. Each of them—herself, Flitwick, Sinistra, and Sprout—had received a letter from Harry Potter alleging that Dumbledore was plotting to have him killed and that he had kidnapped Parvati Patil and Hermione Granger. The letters had been co-signed by Amelia Bones and Algernon Croaker, two people for whom Minerva had enormous respect.
The accusations were ludicrous on the face of it, but events were spiraling so quickly out of control that Minerva no longer knew what to believe. Harry Potter had certainly run from the castle for some important reason, and the world had gone to hell in the past few weeks.
The entire Hogwarts faculty was now wanted for questioning by the Ministry, and Minerva had no doubt what that meant. The only thing preventing their arrest was the lockdown. For the first time in 400 years Hogwarts was a virtually impenetrable fortress. People could enter the wards only after passing through several layers of security wards and getting personal approval from the Headmaster.
And people were indeed coming. At first it had been families seeking to remove their children from the castle. In the past few days it was members of the Order, old friends of Dumbledore, and even entire families seeking sanctuary within Hogwarts’ walls. The situation outside looked to be growing more dire by the day, and it frustrated her that there was nothing she could do about it.
She did, however, intend to get to the bottom of this business with Harry Potter. Albus had brusquely denied her earlier attempt to get information, and now people she trusted were making outrageous accusations against him. He had always had an obsession with Harry, but would he really stoop to having the boy killed? It just did not jibe with her image of the man.
“You each have your letters?” she asked one last time, eyeing her colleagues. “Good,” she added at their nods. “We will present a unified front, and he will not be able to deny us information.”
McGonagall turned and gave the password to the gargoyle guarding the entrance, and it slowly moved aside to admit her. She and her fellow Professors slowly climbed the stairs to the office, wondering just what was in store for them.
Dumbledore greeted them at the top of the stairs before they could enter. He looked warily between the assembled professors.
“Good morning, Minerva. Filius, Aurora, Pomona. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“We need to speak with you about an important matter, Headmaster,” Minerva said officially. “Each of us has received a letter, delivered by house elf, which purports to be from Harry Potter. In it he has made some truly startling claims, and we all feel the need to address them with you. It’s time to clear the air, Albus. We need to know what’s happening, and you are keeping too much information to yourself.”
Dumbledore looked between each of his professors and then sighed. He stepped aside to admit them to his office. When they were all seated comfortably, he spoke.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I assure you I will answer whatever questions I can. Mr. Potter, unfortunately, has been misled about my intentions toward him. May I see one of the letters, please?”
Flitwick obligingly handed his copy of the letter to the Headmaster. The group waited in silence as the old man quickly perused its contents.
“It is as I suspected,” he smiled at them. “Surely you must see that this is an attempt by those who control Harry to exacerbate the misunderstanding between us. I assure you that I bear the boy no ill will.”
McGonagall sighed wearily. “I for one am tired of your assurances, Albus. You have pushed me aside for weeks now. That letter is signed by Amelia Bones, and I know her signature. Why did Harry Potter run from Hogwarts? Why does he claim that you want to sacrifice him to the Dark Lord? And where are Miss Patil and Miss Granger? They are not in their dorms, and have not been seen since yesterday evening.”
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and considered the Professors before him. They had never shown him such mistrust before, but he supposed that the current unrest was affecting everyone.
“Miss Patil and Miss Granger have not been kidnapped. They are in my safe-keeping; they need to be protected from Mr. Potter and his influence. They do not understand what is happening, and Mr. Potter has been dangerously misled.”
Flitwick spoke up squeakily. “Forgive me, Headmaster, but how has he been misled? If Mr. Potter’s letter is not truthful, then what is the truth?”
“The truth…is a fragile and mysterious thing, my friends,” Dumbledore responded sagely. “I am not at liberty to reveal the details of what is happening, but I assure you that I harbor no animosity toward Mr. Potter and that I’m acting only in the best interests of our world. I am doing all I can to combat the darkness that is descending upon us again.”
Flitwick seemed satisfied with this rhetoric, but he had never been one to rock the boat. McGonagall and Sinistra frowned at Dumbledore’s answer while Sprout remained unreadable.
“You’re not getting away with that, Albus,” McGonagall growled, her Scottish burr starting to show. “Each of us has been teaching at Hogwarts for decades, and we do not deserve to be kept in the dark. If anything, we deserve to know what we can do to help. If those girls are in no danger, then let us talk to them.”
Dumbledore considered McGonagall intently for a few moments.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Minerva. Rest assured that the girls are safe, and that as soon as you four may safely participate in the efforts to fight the Dark Lord, I shall inform you.”
“Bollocks,” McGonagall replied hotly. “That letter was signed by Amelia, Albus. I have never known her to lie about anything, and it’s increasingly obvious that something is rotten here. Now what have you done with Miss Granger and Miss Patil?”
The other Professors murmured their agreement, and Dumbledore regarded each of them shrewdly. He didn’t want to alienate any of them, but he did not feel that they could handle the truth.
“I am sorry, Minerva, but I cannot comply with your request. I appreciate your concern, my dear Professors, but you simply do not—and cannot—understand the big picture. You have trusted me for years, and I must insist that you do so today. I do not intend to harm Harry Potter, nor do I intend to harm his friends. That is all I have to say on the matter.”
Dumbledore’s audience regarded him in silence for a few seconds. They had not expected the man to simply refuse to talk about the situation. It did not fit with their previous perceptions of him.
“Albus,” McGonagall said carefully, “you are not talking to students. We have a right to know what’s happening. Our world is falling apart around us, and you don’t seem to be lifting a finger to stop it. You seem to be more concerned with Harry Potter than the Dark Lord, and we want to know why. It doesn’t make any bloody sense, and your evasions are only making you look guilty. What is the matter with you?”
Dumbledore stood abruptly from his desk and glared at McGonagall and the others. “You go too far, Minerva. I’m afraid that this conversation is over, as I have more important matters to attend to. If you no longer wish to accept my leadership then you are free to leave the castle. Otherwise I will thank you to keep these accusations to yourselves. I have done more for our world than the four of you combined, and I shall endeavor to continue doing so. Thank you and good day.”
Sprout’s mouth had fallen open in shock at the Headmaster’s abrupt dismissal, and the others were not handling the situation much more smoothly.
“But—,” began McGonagall in confusion, only to be interrupted by a much louder objection to Dumbledore’s obstinacy.
From his perch behind Dumbledore’s desk, Fawkes let out an ear-splitting screech that caused all five of the room’s occupants to turn and stare at him. Extending his wings to their full span, he glared at Dumbledore and opened his mouth wide.
The song that poured from his throat was unlike anything the observers had ever heard. Far from comforting and peaceful, it spoke of unbridled vengeance and fury. The listeners were overcome with a sense of dread, knowing somehow that the song heralded an awful warning. More than one of the Professors shivered reflexively.
Fawkes ended his song abruptly and leapt off his perch. Dumbledore stumbled backwards, but he could not move quickly enough. The Professors watched in shock as Fawkes grasped Dumbledore by the shoulders and disappeared in a sudden flash of flame. They stared at the empty space before them for half a minute, each wondering what had just happened and how to proceed.
Their confusion was ended when Fawkes flashed backed into the office with Parvati Patil and Hermione Granger in his talons. He dropped the girls roughly at the feet of McGonagall, then flew a lap around the room, squawking angrily.
Coming to rest on Dumbledore’s desk, Fawkes glared at the gaping Professors and frightened students, who were now looking around the room in confusion. He squawked loudly and flapped his wings in a shooing motion, his message clear.
“Er, I think he means us to be going,” said Sprout shakily, getting to her feet and putting a hand on Hermione’s shoulders.
“What’s happening?” she asked fearfully.
“Let us discuss that outside, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said quickly. “I believe Fawkes wishes to be alone.”
The Professors, now with two confused students in tow, exited Dumbledore’s office hurriedly, wondering what to do now. They were met by a nervous-looking house elf dressed in black silk at the bottom of the stairs.
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One Minute Earlier
Albus Dumbledore reeled in shock as he felt himself lifted off his feet and transported by his own phoenix. He suddenly became aware of being outdoors, then began falling. He drew his wand, but could do nothing to prevent his fall. Twenty feet later, he found himself submerged beneath icy cold water and his breath escaped him as if he had been struck.
He resurfaced as quickly as he could and looked around in alarm, trying to catch his breath. The frigid water had soaked him to the bone, and his aged frame shook with uncontrollable tremors. Finally getting his bearings, Dumbledore saw the castle in the distance and realized what must have happened.
Fawkes had just dropped him in Hogwarts Lake.
He looked around for his familiar, but Fawkes had disappeared.
“Damnation!” Dumbledore screamed in rage. “Get back here you bloody bird!”
When there was no response, Dumbledore looked closely at the water surrounding him. He could not apparate while on Hogwarts grounds, so he either had to swim to shore or transfigure something into a boat. Finding a floating stick that would suit his purposes, he quickly transfigured it into a small canoe and seated himself. After a few hurried warming and drying charms, he felt much better. Eyeing the castle in the distance, Dumbledore turned and expelled a massive force of wind from his wand, propelling the small canoe forward at an impressive rate.
He had not yet reached the shore when he suddenly stopped the spell. He could do little more than gape at the sight before him. The tower that housed his office was ablaze with light, flames and smoke billowing from several windows. He simply couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. Fawkes had torched his tower, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Dumbledore swore angrily and continued his trek to the shore, only to stop again several seconds later. A great ball of flame arced across the sky like a meteor, a song of defiance accompanying its path. Dumbledore shivered at its notes. The meteor, which he knew to be Fawkes, suddenly exploded in flames, sending tendrils of fire across the sky.
Two seconds later, the sky was clear and Fawkes was gone. Dumbledore’s shoulders slumped in his makeshift boat, and he spent the next few seconds staring at his feet in misery. Everything was coming apart at the seams.
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Bones Manor
Twenty minutes later, Harry Potter waited anxiously on the steps of Bones Manor. Dobby had informed him that Parvati and Hermione were now in the care of the other Professors, and they had arranged a quick retrieval team to pick the girls up outside Hogwarts’ wards.
Two loud pops signaled the arrival of guests, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Tonks and Savage apparated just outside the wards. Parvati and Hermione were with them. Harry ran toward them, elated that they had been rescued from Dumbledore.
“Harry!” screamed Parvati, removing herself from Tonks’ grasp and running to meet him as well.
The two stopped several feet from each other, both suddenly confused about how they should be greeting one another.
“Er, hi Parvati,” Harry grinned. “I’m glad you’re—,” he said, but Parvati just smiled and threw herself at him. He found himself engulfed in a tight hug the likes of which Hermione had once given him. He slowly hugged her back, and the embrace stretched on for several seconds.
“Ahem,” said Tonks, clearing her throat and smirking at the pair. “These two belong to you, Harry?”
“Oh, er, yeah; I guess they do,” said Harry sheepishly, disentangling himself awkwardly from Parvati’s embrace. “Thanks for going to get them Tonks, Auror Savage.”
“No worries, Harry,” replied Savage. “And call me Julian. Just don’t do it around Proudfoot. He’ll have a coronary.”
Hermione, meanwhile, was standing shyly next to Tonks, uncomfortable with the cheerfulness on display around her. She was keenly aware that her presence had not been requested here.
“Hi Harry,” she said softly.
“Hermione,” Harry replied, looking her up and down. “Are you okay? Did Dumbledore do anything to either of you?”
Hermione quivered a little, and Parvati answered for the both of them. “He, er, didn’t hurt us exactly, but he did something to read our minds. It lasted forever and hurt like hell at the end. Then he just kept us locked in his guest quarters. He still has our wands.”
Harry frowned, but was relieved that it wasn’t worse. “We’ll find a way to get them back. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you too badly. I really thought he might…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“But he didn’t, Harry,” Parvati smiled, gripping his forearm. “His phoenix evidently decided enough was enough and flashed us out of there. It was really scary, but we’re fine now.”
Harry nodded, and Hermione grimaced a little at the show of easy affection between Parvati and her former best friend. They had clearly gotten a lot closer in the past few weeks.
Madam Bones exited the Manor and approached the group, ready to congratulate everyone on a job well done and a disaster averted. She shook Hermione and Parvati’s hands, and looked each of them over cautiously.
“Welcome to Bones Manor. We can talk about our situation here later, and I’ll be requiring an oath or two from both of you later this afternoon. Professor McGonagall has sent a missive explaining what happened, and I’m grateful that you’re both okay.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the girls replied politely.
As if in response, the sound of phoenix song, light and cheering, filled the air. Those on the lawn looked around for the source of the sound, but they couldn’t see Fawkes. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Thank you, Fawkes,” Harry whispered, gazing up at the sky. For a brief moment, at least, it felt like all was right with the world.
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A/N: Score one for the good guys. Sucks to be Dumbledore now, doesn’t it? Next chapter, the war intensifies on all fronts, and Harry and Parvati are finally together. Well, they’re in the same place at least.
Thanks to Voice of the Nephilim, Vikingfn0926, BennyS, and scaryisnit for their feedback on the chapter outline.
Thanks for reading!