Resistance HQ, Glastonbury Tor…
Albus Dumbledore stared rather listlessly at the book clutched in his weathered old hands; the knowledge the book held was seemingly heading towards his mind and crashing to the ground before it could even reach his eyes. He was partially sitting up on a multitude of pillows that had been propped up under his back by Poppy, to allow him to hold a book with minimal effort on his own part. Tearing his eyes away from the book he stared around at his somewhat meager surroundings; the comfortable bed he was in was against the brown stone earth that made up the tunnels under Glastonbury Tor, the room he was in was fashioned out of the original tunnels by the Goblins. His personal library sat right next to his bed in the form of two large bookshelves; every morning when Poppy Pomfrey (the Healer-in-Chief of the Resistance) did her checkup of his condition she would kindly ask which books to remove from the shelf and place them on his bed for easy access. A single carpet lay out on the floor, and some of his favorite tapestries hung on the natural cavelike walls to give the room a more homely feeling.
He put down the uninteresting book on Dark Curse Recognition, he had read it a hundred times, and it had not helped to identify the curse that was placed on his person by Augustus Rookwood; the ex-Head of the Department of Mysteries and Death Eater; in that fateful battle where Severus had rather disappointingly thrown his final lot in with Voldemort. He resisted the urge to dwell on that failure and turned his eyes to the book that had held his fascination for more than half-a-century since he discovered it (now that was a story by itself). Albus picked up Merlin's Journal and opened the book to the first page…the seemingly indecipherable text glared out at his mind like the other book failed to do; the script itself was in orderly lines from top to bottom produced with seemingly inhuman precision, it was made up of endless configurations of squares and rectangles that made him wonder if Merlin was a fanatic for mathematics and geometry. Though it was clear, judging from the repeated characters, that this script did have a formal alphabet…but the phonetic associations and the meaning behind that was lost to time and with Merlin himself.
Albus closed the book with a tired sigh. He had no idea what he was hoping to find by keeping up his effort in deciphering the parts of the Journal written in this mystery language, but he knew that Earth shattering revelations lay behind that complex text and perhaps a solution to the oppression he and the wizarding world found themselves in.
His mind next wandered to ask the question…how had it all come to this?
For him at least, it began when he himself was a fresh Hogwarts Graduate, he hardly even remembered the year…ah yes, 1868- the height of the Victorian Era and the globe spanning English Empire. Even back then he was considered a prodigy of magic, he had an uncanny mastery of Transfiguration and magic in general that even had Professor Marchbanks impressed. 'Done things with a wand I've never seen before,' in her own words.
For the next thirty years he had been content to travel the world, furthering his own learning from various Masters of their field and found love of all places in Germany, got married, had children…his ambition to further study the deeper mysteries of magic led him to travel again, search for the ancient repositories of knowledge…returning for a few months to his family, and doing the same thing all over again. At the turn of the century he was approached by Nicholas Flamel, and so began the infamous partnership that led to his discovery of the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood and the perfection of the Philospher's Stone.
But world events, as it was won't to do, began to spiral out of control and as history had demonstrated, Empires that rise, will fall, eventually. The fervent fever of nationalism that swept through Europe, the technological revolution, the development of the airplane (which shrunk the world considerably) and then the tragedy that was the First World War; the Great War was what had stolen his family from him. The fury of that war was such that it left no one untouched, muggle nor wizard. One of the very first bomber biplanes had missed its target…and despite the wards designed only to keep out dark wizards…it had landed squarely into his family's house through the roof. That old grief never failed to touch him, even to this very day.
After the War, he threw himself into campaigning for the British seat of the International Confederation of Wizards, hoping that somehow he could push for policy to prevent wizards from being the unwitting victims of future Muggle wars. He had campaigned no less than two times before he was finally voted into the British ICW seat by the Wizengamot; his rhetoric on the rapidly advancing Muggle technology was difficult to understand for most wizards, but eventually the right ears heard and with the British Ministry leading the way, gold was poured into research for new magic to protect wizard holdings and land against the new means of Muggle warfare being developed.
When he had seemingly succeeded in his personal crusade, he grew bored with the ICWs now constant squabbling and politics and sought a new challenge, and lo and behold he found an ad in the Daily Prophet newspaper that there was a vacancy in the position for Transfiguration Teacher of Hogwarts, he applied and so after nearly seventy years he returned to his alma mater.
He had barely begun to settle down in Hogwarts when once again the dark clouds approached again on the horizon. Albus, unlike most wizards, kept abreast of news in the Muggle world, and the rise of the Third Reich and Hitler was most ominous. The sheer speed of Hitler rise to power and the way he seemingly galvanized the old German economy out of nothing sent up glaring red flags in his mind. It was in 1938 that he had seen a news reel in a Muggle cinema showing Hitler and his entourage, and there in the background…was a face that Albus was literally astonished to see standing there in full SS uniform…the name was Joseph Mengele on the credits…but he knew different, it was a wizard, a man Albus had encountered while he had stayed with his wife in Germany all those years ago…Grindelwald.
Albus had spoken to the ICW soon after and raised his concerns…but it had fallen on deaf ears and by then it was too late. 1939. Hitler launched his Blitzkrieg attacks. And numerous European Ministries of Magic came under attack as well, from Grindelwald and his Knights of Walpurgis. Albus attended the 1940 ICW meeting and had to constantly restrain himself from shouting 'I told you so!' to the Supreme Mugwump of the time.
The journey home from the ICW meeting was one which would send him on a path that would forever cement his name in wizard history. He was too tired to Apparate all the way back to England from the unoccupied south of France, where the meeting was held and as such had sought shelter with a group of fleeing gypsies for the night. He sat alone that night at the campfire when out of nowhere one of the gypsies sat down next to him. And without further ado she became rigid and began to convulse…and from her mouth spoke the Voice of Prophecy.
The next morning he had hurriedly asked the leader of the Gypsies whether that specific woman was a Seeress, and when the man had confirmed it he felt the sheer weight of the world fall on his shoulders for the first time, it was a burden he still carried to this day.
Over the next two years, the fires of war spread across the world. It was truly a World War. And the burden to turn the tide in Europe had fallen squarely on Albus Dumbledore's shoulders thanks to the Voice of Prophecy. For the Allies could never hope to launch a successful invasion with Grindelwald and his Knights watching. And in the pressure of juggling his teaching duties and preparing for his date with destiny, he forgot about the needs about a young unloved, orphan boy named Tom Riddle…a mistake that the wizarding world was still paying for to this very day.
With Allied wizards finally organized after three long years of political struggle and shielding the Allied forces buildup on England for Operation Overlord, a successful invasion of Fortress Europe was finally launched. As soldiers landed on Juno, Sword and Omaha beach, Allied wizards had already apparated into France when the first paratroopers landed in the night before. The battle with the Knights of Walpurgis was a quiet thing, any Allied or Nazi soldier who happened to witness a wizard battle would be swiftly Memory charmed by whichever victorious wizard remained afterward. And so it was that when Allied territorial gains in Europe was substantial enough, that Albus spearheaded a swift strike by Apparating into Berlin itself and with a twenty strong force of Allied wizards at his side, and battled their way to Grindelwald.
The final duel was one Albus could clearly remember as if it was yesterday. The battle was so intense that wizards nearly twenty miles away reportedly could feel the magic boiling in the air. Albus, as a participant in that particular duel, rather disagreed with that assessment, certainly if you were in the building, yes, but twenty miles…no, it was merely an exaggeration of people with a 'wish I was there' attitude. With titanic effort Albus had managed to get a curse under Grindelwald's guard and it passed straight through the dark wizard's neck. A magically exhausted Albus was dragged away by his surviving compatriots out of the building and a portkey journey later they were safe in Allied held territory to recover. That was the end of the World War for Albus, though the battle with the Knights would continue until a week before VE day.
With the aftermath of the war, things changed even more. The Cold War between the American led NATO powers and Warsaw pact Russia; Europe was treated like a cake that had to be divided between two rival children at a party. Nuclear Proliferation. The Arms race. And it was as the Americans began their campaign to launch men to the moon that disturbing rumors and reports began to reach Albus of what young Riddle had been doing since graduating Hogwarts in 1944.
When Headmaster Dippet finally retired in '69 and Albus was unanimously voted as the replacement by the Board of Hogwarts Governors, he received that fateful visit from Tom Riddle, looking for a teaching position. It was immediately obvious as Albus stared at Tom's rather disfigured face that the rumors had been true. Tom was fashioning himself after the Slytherin mythos and Grindelwald and had been undergoing dark rituals to strengthen himself. As Tom or rather Voldemort left Albus knew that wheels had been set in motion that would never be stopped.
Barely a month after Voldemort left Hogwarts, the first Dark Mark rose into the sky above a Muggleborn home.
1970 began as 1939 did only that this time the War was only among wizards, it was a war that would be fought in shadows and in homes, in surprise raids and searches. All the while, behind the webs of deceit and blackmail and secrecy was Voldemort pulling the strings of nearly everyone in some form or manner. By year four of the War, people were already calling Voldemort…You-Know-Who. The eleven years of Terror, as the first War became known as later, didn't leave a single wizard or witch on the British Isles untouched, it even affected the Continent to some extent. Death Eaters hunted like pack wolves and victories against the darkness was few and far between. Despite his own Order of the Phoenix acting with a much freer hand than the Ministry and also achieving a few successes against Voldemort's forces, they were hopelessly outnumbered, and were getting picked off one by one.
By year ten of the War, Albus knew something had to give, either Voldemort would achieve total domination or the silver lining would finally reveal itself from behind the cloud. And to his everlasting relief, the latter was the case.
He was approached by Sybill Trelawney at the beginning of 1980, a great-great-granddaughter of the famous Seeress, Cassandra Trelawney, for the newly vacant position of Divination Professor. He had been planning to discontinue the subject, since Divination was a gift that you either had or did not, there was no in between, and it was not really a subject that could be taught. But politeness and respect for her ancestor prompted him to humor Sybill and grant her an interview in the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. It became immediately apparent that she had too little of the gift to be of any use in teaching Divination. He tried to politely explain that he did not think she would be suitable, and turned to leave. It was then that Albus heard the Voice of Prophecy for the second time in his life. It was a prophecy that didn't relate to his own destiny this time, but that of another…the prophecy stated that one would be born at the seventh month that year who could finally and truly conquer Voldemort despite the appearance of immortality that he had achieved.
The year that followed was the worst since World War 2 in his opinion. The Ministry was in tatters, his own Order was close to breaking point, all its members scattered and in hiding. And Albus received word from Severus Snape, his spy in Voldemort's ranks that the first lines of the prophecy was known to the Dark Lord and that he was searching for the one who would conquer him in the future.
Albus, knowing to whom the prophecy referred, leapt into action to protect the two families most likely to produce the child who would conquer Voldemort, for he had long ago narrowed down the candidates for the 'Chosen One'. It would either be the child of Frank and Alice Longbottom or James and Lily Potter; incidentally all were members of his own Order.
But it was all for nought, at the end of 1981 on Halloween, Voldemort had finally used his own 'spy' - Sirius Black - within the Order's ranks and penetrated the Fidelius Charm (the spy himself was used to anchor the Charm) that protected James and Lily Potter. Albus would not have thought it possible for the spy to be Sirius (they had heard rumors and reports for months that there was a traitor in their ranks), he was James best friend, but all the evidence though circumstantial pointed to Black.
And so on that fateful night Voldemort himself showed up at James and Lily's safehouse in Godric's Hollow. James was not a match for Voldemort and he was swiftly defeated and murdered, Lily herself died protecting her infant son Harry. But when Voldemort finally turned the wand on Harry…the unblockable Killing Curse was deflected for the first time in history. It apparently hit baby Harry's forehead and struck back at Voldemort…stripping him of his powers and body, leaving him a formless wraith that fled into the night.
The dark clouds passed and the sun began to shine for the first time in eleven long years. But even as the wizarding world rejoiced, Albus knew it was not the end. Voldemort had gone through much to ensure his immortality, and though he was defeated, he was not killed, though severely weakened. He spirited Harry away and placed him with the only blood relatives left on Lily's side. Using the ancient magic evoked by Lily to protect her son by dying for him, Albus sealed the protections around No. 4 Privet Drive – the home of Lily's sister, Petunia, a bitter muggle who resented her sister for her magical gifts.
Albus knew he was condemning Harry to ten dark years under the care of his Aunt and Uncle, but there was no choice in the matter…despite Voldemort's disappearance; his followers were still free, and angry for vengeance, roaming the country searching for the baby who could've apparently killed their Dark Lord. But it was the turn of tide in the war that everyone had been waiting for.
Without Voldemort, multitudes of witches and wizards came out of trances and bewitchment and was released from the bonds of blackmail and threat of death. Death Eaters were one by one apprehended and imprisoned in Azkaban – the wizard prison, some fought to the death rather than be apprehended but the outcome was the same. The following decade was a time of rebuilding and healing. Albus wished he could tell his fellow wizards that it was merely the eye of the storm, but they were too happy to be out from under eleven years of near constant oppression and would not want to believe that it was not over.
Then in 1991, Harry Potter, now eleven years old, learned of and rejoined the wizarding world, and attended his first year at Hogwarts. Albus was astounded and surprised at the boy, who seemed to have an instinctive grasp of magic as much as he had had when he entered Hogwarts as a first year so long ago.
Albus was roused out of his long introspection by the sound of a commotion outside his room. He focused his hearing and managed to pick out the words of what seemed to be a heated argument.
"Granger! Who is this? How can you bring anyone into HQ before clearing it with me first?" Ah, so Hermione and Neville had returned from their Horcrux excursion…he could so do with some good news. But what was Alastor belly-aching about now.
"Can't you see who this is?" asked the astonished voice of Hermione.
"No, he's got some form of Obscuration on his hood and cloak that's stopping my magical eye from seein' him," growled Alastor. That was rather odd. From appearances Hermione had brought a stranger into Resistance HQ, what was even more intriguing was that the stranger could hide himself from Alastor's 'Mad-Eye', while it was not outside the realm of possibility he had never heard it achieved before.
He heard Hermione sigh with frustration. "Alastor you know I'm trained to resist the Imperius, so is Neville. He and I vouch for this wizard and his identity will become known soon, but the first person to know, must be Albus. We also believe that he can help with Albus' condition."
Now Albus was rather apprehensive…he refused to let his own hopes be raised at a counter being found for his curse, there had been too many occasions like this which didn't pan out in the past few years.
"Fine," growled Moody, "but this character will not leave my sight until I'm sure of his loyalties and intentions."
A low chuckle was heard.
"Yeh, think that's funny eh?" said Moody. "Yeh try anythin' suspicious while you're in there and I'll make you wish for Voldemort's tortures."
With the argument seemingly over, Hermione walked into the room. Albus was rather surprised to see a spark of life that had returned in her eyes that had been missing for a long time, but her face was still the same grim mask. She appeared none the worse for wear after her journey to retrieve the second to last Horcrux; which either was a testament to her magical skill or that they had met with failure. She pulled out her wand and with a flick a hard chair was conjured, which she fell into with a huff.
"Greetings, Hermione," said Albus at last, after studying her for a few moments.
"Hi, Albus," she said with a wry smile. "I take it you overheard the conversation?"
"I caught a few salient facts," said Albus, with a raised eyebrow in her direction.
"Well, I think we should start with the Horcrux, that'll be easiest," murmured Hermione. "We managed to penetrate the defenses Riddle had in place to protect it."
"Indeed?" said Albus, but he clearly heard her tone…something was not right.
"It seems that we were not the only ones on a Horcrux hunt," she stated.
"What?" said Albus sharply.
"As I said, we penetrated the defenses, but what we found being protected was clearly a fake Horcrux," she said with her lips thinned in apparent irritation, "Slytherin's Locket had been substituted with a smaller locket, not even worth the few Galleons I have in my pocket. Inside this fake locket was a message." She handed Albus the small note from R.A.B., after he had read it, his eyes were distant as if looking at a far off place, no doubt searching his long memory for anything that would be helpful in solving this twist to the puzzle. When his eyes returned to the message, Hermione continued, "what we've so far determined is that this wizard had to be a Death Eater and the note dates back to the late seventies."
"The language used does suggest the former," confirmed Albus, "and if we take our supposition further, then clearly it was someone who was initially seduced or conscripted into Riddle's service, then later saw the true depths Riddle would go to, to achieve power and tried to back out, and failed. I'm rather amazed that anyone else could guess what Riddle's safeguards against death were."
"And also had the power to get past Riddle's safeguards," said Hermione thoughtfully, "not many wizards besides you could have achieved that Albus during that era."
"True," nodded Albus, "there are very few who could've done it…but if my guess is right as to the identity of R.A.B. then we underestimate the ingenuity and boldness of youth."
"Albus?"
"R.A.B., Regulus Aries Black, a dutiful pureblood son in all respects, all but groomed by his mother to take his place among the rank and file of Death Eaters," said Albus thoughtfully. "He did very well academically, and like his brother, Sirius, was a very talented wizard, but whereas Sirius was skilled in Transfiguration and became an animagus…Regulus was a talented Arithmancer and he had access to the entire Black family library in Grimmauld Place…a place we've never been able to fully account for its contents. Or there could be hidden archives somewhere belonging to the family that we never knew of, the possibilities are endless."
"I should check our Library for confirmation on that, but a guess from you Albus is more than often correct," said Hermione with a rue smile. "So pending that, our next stop would be Grimmauld Place for any clue that Regulus might have left behind as to the Horcrux's location."
"Indeed," said Albus, "though in theory the house should've remained secure with Sirius transferring ownership to Harry. Since Harry's death, however, his will turns everything he owns over to you. But we don't know if the house itself will admit you since…if you forgive me for saying so…you are not a pureblood."
"True," said Hermione, but a small smile appeared on her face, "however, before we go any further I think our mystery guest needs to examine you, and if all goes well in a few days we can get you out of this bed."
"You'll forgive me, my dear, if I retain a healthy dose of skepticism," said Albus with a sigh.
Hermione turned toward the entrance of the door and said, "You can come in."
Harry walked in, his staff tapping on the ground and he observed the sorry state the world's greatest sorcerer had been reduced to through cunning deception and treachery. Dumbledore looked extremely thin, nearly skin and bones, his bright white beard and hair had dulled to a grey and was matted and curled. His blue eyes to his own credit were still bright and twinkling. Harry let his cloak and hood remain shrouding him as he walked towards Albus' bed. He heard the clunk of Mad-Eye Moody's wooden leg right behind him and kept a 'mental' eye on the paranoid wizard.
Albus' reaction to his presence was rather intriguing…the old man merely gazed at Harry inscrutably and then his eyes turned towards the staff in curiosity. Harry stood next to the bed and stared down at the man, opening his eyes to the true Universe beyond. What he beheld could be closely likened to a massive eagle that's had its wings tied around its body…Albus' aura was being encased in a complex grey-black mesh of lines.
Harry nodded towards Hermione.
"He needs to touch you on your forehead Albus," said Hermione. Moody snapped to attention and his wand was partially raised as Albus stared into Hermione's eyes and eventually nodded. Taking that as permission Harry leaned over and placed his palm on the wrinkled forehead of Albus and closed his eyes…he found even more strands of the curse working on his stomach and the lower end of his spinal cord…judging by the pattern, the curse went through the back and stomach before finally settling over his aura. He was startled however, as he saw the nature of the curse and what it was.
"Who cast this curse?" asked Harry sharply.
"Rookwood," said Hermione.
Harry's mouth thinned in anger. It seemed that the ex-Head of the Department of Mysteries must have stumbled upon some 'magic' that was passed down from Merlin's time. For the curse was actually one used by the Ancients to bind the powers of another Ancient who had committed any crime or act of punishable gross negligence. It was developed when the Ancients first began to evolve their abilities and their society was still getting their act together. He made a mental note not to kill Rookwood if he could help it; clearly the man warranted a full interrogation.
Harry focused his thoughts again and looked deeper into the lines of the curse…this was a skill lost to wizards…and finally, within the muons of the energy of the curse the Ancient text scrolled past his eyes. He moved his hand from Albus' forehead to hover over the chest of the old man. He carefully scanned the text and finally when the proper moment came his fingers flexed as if he was grabbing something.
There was a bright flash of light that momentarily blinded everyone in the room.
Harry slammed his staff to the ground…Moody was blasted off his feet…and the spell he had been about to send into Harry's back shot harmlessly into the ceiling.
There was another bright flash of light and everyone heard Albus groan in pain.
Another flash occurred and Harry had to will a strong shield around himself to protect from the magical backlash as Albus' rather considerable powers angrily expanded outward and flexed for the first time in years. Hermione also had the presence of mind to raise a shield, but it wasn't powerful enough to shield her from being flung off her feet and crashing into the wall next to the unconscious Moody.
And just like that…it was over.
"Congratulations Albus, you're free," said Harry with a grin, allowing his true voice to emerge.
Dumbledore was too in a daze with the re-emergence of his own powers to notice though. His hair immediately regained their pure white shine, though it was still matted and curled, confirming his own long suspicions that Albus used daily spellwork to keep them straight at that length. Harry walked over and helped Hermione to her feet.
"You OK?"
"Yeah," she said, shaking her head to clear it from the disorientation. "You stunned Moody?"
"Indeed, the process of removing the curse from Albus was surely due to arouse his…paranoia," smirked Harry, who turned to face the bed again. He saw that Albus had most definitely heard his answer and his eyes were a rather comical sight for a man with an omniscient reputation. With a laugh, he removed the hood of his cloak and revealed his face.
"How…how…how can this be?" said Albus in a near whisper, his question directed to Hermione.
"I don't know," shrugged Hermione, "Harry's been vague at best about it, and I've tested for any sign whether he is a fake. Neville and I ruled out every known form of disguise or illusion magic that we knew of."
"Which is a considerable amount of knowledge," said Albus his wide eyes never leaving Harry.
"I recall you telling me in my first year at Hogwarts," said Harry with a friendly grin, "that, to the well prepared mind, death is but the next great adventure. Oh, Albus," he said, closing his eyes as if in fond memory, "you have no idea how wonderful that adventure truly is."
"But for one who was so young to achieve it…" said Albus, astonished. Harry was not surprised that Albus knew, at least in part, of Ascension – he did have access to Merlin's Journal.
"You could not fully read the Journal, as such you are unaware that there is more than one way to reach the 'great adventure' as you so eloquently put it," said Harry, shaking his head in apparent amusement.
"I'm speechless," said Albus, his eyes twinkling merrily, "and it's a rare thing indeed for that to happen."
"You are convinced?"
"With my powers restored I can indeed sense you for who you truly are Harry Potter," said Albus, a great jovial smile blossoming on his face.
"Good," nodded Harry in satisfaction, "that simplifies things, you and I can speak later in more detail of the great journey. However, we must first tend to matters of the present. Hermione…please make Moody a bit more comfortable…" She nodded and levitated the unconscious Moody onto the soft rug in the middle of the room. "Good, now…" Harry opened his hand, a cube, made up of white light appeared and faded to a show a portable Ancient Healing Device. It was also made up of black naquadah and the rim and the bottom made up rows of engraved Ancient writing. He placed it on the bedstand and pressed a specific combination of the Ancient characters and the device flared into life with a silvery white light. "This will accelerate your return to good health. You will still need good nutrition, physical therapy, and muscle restoratives but instead of taking months, it will now perhaps take less than five weeks."
"Fascinating device," said Albus, peering at it. "I must admit, the form of power its using has me a little worried though."
"Why would it worry you Albus?" asked Hermione, looking fascinated as she gazed at the object.
"Because it closely resembles the magic used to create an Inferi," said Albus. Hermione gasped and started to back away.
"Relax," said Harry easily, "it will not turn you into an Inferi, you would have to first be dead within the devices' area of effect. In fact, the spell used on corpses to turn them into Inferi was derived from the original healing magic of this device." His staff's head flared slightly and a soft armchair appeared and he settled himself down in it with a sigh of relief. "Magical Healing devices aside, I think it time we had a chat about the future."
"What did you have in mind?" asked Albus with a raised eyebrow.
"It should be obvious as to why I've returned," said Harry, "and the end of Riddle is of course my main goal…but it is not the only one." He paused for a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts. "I wonder what your response would be if I said that to return to the previous system of governance after the war is over, would be sheer folly."
"You are echoing the sentiment of many wizards in the younger generation," sighed Albus in resignation, "but I cannot argue against it. The evidence of the Ministry's failure as a governing system is all around us."
"Quite," said Harry dryly, "anyway, now that I know we are somewhat on the same page. I can turn to my more immediate plans. My efforts until your recovery will be solely focused on the remaining Horcrux. In this intervening time, Albus, I need you to simply recover and begin ordering the Resistance to step up its attacks."
"We can hardly hold our own as it is, Harry," said Albus gravely.
"I understand that," replied Harry, "I don't need you to work the Aurors and the others to death, begin slowly, say an extra raid per week, or deploy so you can hit multiple targets at once. You don't even have to be successful, just send your people in and out, a spell exchange will suffice."
Albus instantly surmised the strategy, "You wish to create a screen of confusion and misdirection."
"Yes," nodded Harry, "I wish to overload Riddle with reports of battles, sightings of Resistance members and activity, until he's up to his ears in parchment. I want to muddle that cunning paranoia he possesses as he hopelessly tries to piece together our strategy. To him, everything will seem a feint, a diversion, a trap."
"And the ultimate purpose of this?" asked Albus with narrowed eyes.
"So that when I eventually destroy Slytherin's Locket, we will be ready…" he paused for a moment, "to retake Hogwarts."
"Harry!" said Hermione astonished. "That's…you do remember what it cost Riddle to take Hogwarts in the first place…he lost nearly a quarter of his army in the process…Snape now holds the enhanced wards against us, that we originally created to protect Hogwarts." She let the irony of that remain unspoken.
"I understand that," said Harry patiently, "but if I could have a gander at Merlin's Journal, I believe I could find a 'backdoor' in the ancient magic that is the basis for the wards…so to speak. After all, the Founders were all Merlin's apprentices at one point or another."
"You believe you can read this text?" asked Albus with wide eyes, taking a glance at the Journal still in his lap, the mysterious geometric script glaring out of it. Harry held out his hand for the Journal and Albus gingerly handed the ancient book over. Harry scanned the first few lines of Alteran text on the first page and chuckled in mirth.
"What is it?" asked Hermione, looking fascinated as she leaned over to look at the text as well.
"It's a rather wry warning 'If you can read this, and you do not go by the name of Myrdinn, beware, for the knowledge held within is only for those whose minds that are truly open to the greater Universe and enlightened.'"
"Are you serious? You're not just making it up?" said Hermione looking skeptical.
Harry frowned in annoyance at her and said in fluent Ancient, "Does it sound like I'm making this language up to you?"
She blinked in incomprehension for a moment then blushed and muttered, "Sorry, I honestly thought you were making a joke." Harry waved her apology away.
"Don't worry," he said distractedly as he scanned the text further and carefully turned a page, after a few moments of scanning that page, he closed the book and said, "It does have what we need, but the Horcrux needs finding and I will not bring such a valuable book with me into danger." He handed it back to Albus. "Well, it's been a long day, and I strangely find that my stomach requires food…"
"Why is it strange?" asked Hermione in askance.
"Eating is not necessary to sustain yourself in the higher planes of existence," said Harry simply. "And then a little nap…I think you can do with some sleep too Hermione, we set out first thing tomorrow morning for Grimmauld Place. I have a feeling this particular Horcrux is not going to be easily found."
The sun had barely risen the next day and Harry was lightly shaking awake Neville from his slumber. There was enough room in the tunnels of Glastonbury Tor to excavate private bed chambers for each active Resistance member. The inner dimensions were altered as well to appear much larger from within than without, allowing for a relative comfort and luxury, depending on what the occupying wizard could permanently conjure or what possessions they had with them. For almost every Resistance member living in HQ was either; a Healer, an Auror in exile and their immediate family; a hunted Muggleborn or Half-Blood; Purebloods who wanted nothing to do with Voldemort but were hunted for their apparent betrayal; there were even a few Vampire covens who'd been exiled for not siding with the majority of Vampires who had thrown in their lot with Voldemort; the Goblins permanently stationed in Glastonbury had even moved their families to the relative safety of HQ (after a nasty incident where Goblins were taken hostage and money had been extorted for the release of the captives); and of course, the house-elves that maintained and cleaned the place.
Neville groaned and rolled over in his bed and blearily opened his eyes at the figure standing over him.
"Harry?" said the drowsy wizard, still clad in light grey robes that many Aurors and Resistance member favored when going into battle.
"Time to get up," said Harry, "we're Apparating to Grimmauld place after we get some breakfast in our bellies."
"Oh," said Neville, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and standing up out of his rather comfy looking single bed. "Thanks, I'll be out in a minute." Harry nodded and headed out of the rather spartan bedchambers, closing the braced door behind him and waited in the tunnel corridor. No one passing paid any attention to Harry whatsoever, for he was projecting an aura of disinterest and casualness around him; people passing would see a wizard standing outside the door but wouldn't take cognizance of his identity or find him interesting enough to pay attention to. Only a wizard in the league of Dumbledore would not have been fooled by it.
The door opened and Neville appeared, looking much refreshed and sporting a clean set of black robes. Harry gestured for him to follow and they walked down the rather busy tunnels of wizards going this way and that, children playing, Healers bustling around, they even passed a sinister looking Vampire who was arguing with an Auror about not enough blood being acquired from Muggle blood banks for their needs.
Glastonbury Tor was very much like a small city or town in every respect.
They now entered the social nexus of Resistance HQ; a place affectionately called the Great Hall. It was product of the combined efforts of wizards and Goblins and was an attempt to recreate the Great Hall of Hogwarts down to even the enchanted ceiling that showed the sky overhead Glastonbury Tor. Though on closer inspection it was obvious that it was not a perfect replica; there were no large mullioned windows which led in great shafts of light and there were a few areas where natural cave formations were left, usually along the corners or where pillars should have been. And apparently; according to Hermione who had given him the 5cent tour last night before bed, the enchanted ceiling was 'switched off' when no food was being served, as they hadn't found a way to permanently empower the great enchantment.
Breakfast was in full swing already and they found Hermione wearing a set of light emerald robes on the end of one the four great tables, already tucking into a plate of sausages, eggs, and hash browns.
"Morning," she greeted. Neville grunted a hello and after piling food on a plate began to dig in.
"You were saying?" prompted Harry, for they had been in a discussion when she suggested that Neville would need assistance to rouse from sleep in time.
"…yes, apparently Pomfrey is over the moon about Albus' improvement, she's asking to meet the wizard who healed him," said Hermione.
"Unfortunately I cannot reveal myself publicly yet and while my returned presence would galvanize the efforts of the Resistance," said Harry archly, "and make no mistake, I want it to be known eventually, I do feel that there has to be some…delicateness to how it's done."
"A closed meeting of the Council of Races would do it," suggested Neville. The Council of Races was composed of the leader of each race in the Resistance, wizard (Dumbledore), Vampire, Goblin and even a House-elf(the oldest known House-elf sat on it and would only offer ideas if asked for it by Dumbledore).
"Good idea," nodded Hermione.
"That can be done a week before the attack on Hogwarts," said Harry in a near whisper.
"Why so late?" asked Neville.
"I don't want to fault the efforts of the Resistance," responded Harry, "but we can't be sure that Riddle has no spies within Glastonbury Tor. It's prudent to compartmentalize information in any clandestine organization, such as the Resistance."
"Only those who need to know, should know," nodded Neville in understanding.
After breakfast they headed as a group out of the replica Great Hall and after navigating the numerous passageways found the 'Arrival room' where the receiving set of Transporter Rings was located that allowed people to leave Glastonbury Tor. The arrival room was actually the nexus of the tunnel system and branched off in several directions; it was quite a large area, easily going hundred meters in every direction. The moment they entered the arrival room Harry's eyes was immediately drawn to a prominent area off to one side where there was a raised dais and a perfectly square stone with a gleaming chrome sword stuck into it. The sword had a relatively simple black hilt with only a spherical jewel set at its base. In front of this area an eerily blue line had been drawn in the floor and radiated light upward.
"Did Albus tell you to ward anyone from touching Excalibur?" asked Harry with a raised eyebrow to Hermione.
"It was the first thing he asked me to do when we both entered this place for the first time," she said; staring at the famous sword with an eager, curious eye. They eventually tore their eyes away from it and approached the Auror's assigned to guard and control the Ring platform. One Auror ran a metallic wand over them that beeped and shrilled in various tones…it's function was to obviously detect any forms of curses on a person…the Auror then put that down and next switched to his own wand and began to murmur detection spells. They moved on to Neville with the same procedure but skipped Harry entirely due to the wards he was radiating with his aura.
Another Auror, seated at a desk near the Ring controls embedded in the rock, began to tap his wand on various tinkling and spindling magical instruments…which started to light up with ethereal lights of various colors. Out of one device smoke pored out and formed a number…9, which started to slowly dwindle over a period of a minute and when it reached zero the Auror said, "OK, everyone around the Tower has been driven away, step into the Rings." The Auror was referring to the area of effect wards placed on St Michael's Tower. Since people needed to be able to come and go during the day as well, the wards drove non-magical people away as they all remembered some forgotten appointment or family emergency that had to be attended to. Another strong Notice-Me-Not Ward was placed to ward off any unfamiliar wizard visitors.
Harry supposed he could just grab Neville and Hermione and Teleport himself through the Apparition wards that surrounded the Tor. But the disruption in the wards would be noticeable and he didn't want to create a false alarm and cause everyone to think they were being attacked.
The Rings shot out of the ground and a few moments later they were standing underneath St Michael's Tower again, this time in the early morning, where the dew on the grass sparkled in the newly risen sun like thousands of diamonds that were strewn across the lawns on the Tor. They walked to the designated Disapparition point fifty meters away from the Tower and after checking to make sure no one was in the area, vanished on the spot.
They reappeared in a grimy narrow alley between two tall houses, which was bordered on one side by a fence and opened up onto the street in the other direction. Hermione and Neville cast Notice-Me-Not Charms on themselves and when they glanced back at Harry were rather startled to see that somehow his staff had appeared in his right hand sometime during their Apparition. This was obviously not the place to talk as the houses on either side radiated the domestic sounds of people getting ready for work.
They walked towards the street and emerged onto Grimmauld Place itself. They had appeared between 4 and 5 Grimmauld Place and walked down the length of the street. Harry surveyed the place for any changes since 'he' or at least, since his clone had last been here and was rather startled at the difference. Seven years ago the place had looked rather unwelcome; the majority of houses had had broken windows; paint was peeling from the doors and rubbish heaps were prominent in the small front gardens of each home. Now, however, that was a thing of the past…it seemed that the area that Grimmauld Place occupied had undergone a real estate revolution. The front gardens were immaculate, the old dilapidated houses repaired or torn down and rebuilt…the cars in the driveways looked expensive and upmarket.
But…looking like a wart amongst healthy skin was Number 12 Grimmauld Place; it had not changed at all from the time cloneHarry was here last; the same dilapidated front of peeling paint, bare earth instead of a garden, worn front steps, and a black scratched door with silver serpent knocker glared out at them.
Harry was rather thankful that he could see the old house and that it seemed to recognize its owner; it would have been awkward answering why he couldn't see it due to the fact that, technically, it had never been revealed to him. But Albus had originally been the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm that had protected the house, but a quirk of the charm was that a Secret Keeper couldn't keep more than one secret…and as such, the moment the Fidelius was cast again to protect Glastonbury Tor, that the Fidelius here lifted. But Number 12 had more protections than just that; Non-Magical aversion wards; it was also partially removed from this dimension…making it 'Unplottable' as wizards called it.
Harry led the way to the front door and tapped it with his staff. Loud metallic clicks and a clatter of a chain was heard as the 'magic' of the mechanism worked to unlock the door for its owner.
They passed the threshold and into the low light of the hall. The damp, dust, and sweetish rotten smell that had once pervaded the house had again returned, since the house lay unused for nearly three years. The peeling wallpaper seemed even worse than last time, and the carpet on the floor had been worn into its stiches. The chandelier above, once clean, was again matted with cobwebs. Harry looked to his left where an irregular hole was in the wall…he recalled the rather satisfying memory of when his clone had blasted the cursed painting of Sirius' mother into smithereens after she had flung just one insult too many for his temper to withstand.
"Goodness," said Hermione with a disgusted face, obviously referring to the smell.
"Tell me about it," said Neville, wincing.
"We're just going to have to live with it," said Harry lightly, "cast a Bubble-Head Charm if it gets too bad. Anyway, we start a floor by floor, room by room search. We have to examine every square inch of this house. Neville, start with the basement, Hermione, take this floor…I'll go up to the first floor…take your time. If you're in trouble or found something you think is significant, send a Patronus Messenger."
Both nodded and each went to their respective search area.
Five hours passed…Harry had already moved up to the second floor when Hermione's Otter Patronus charged at him from the floor and dissolved into his body. Harry walked calmly down the stairs to the entrance hall and saw that a rather dusty Neville and Hermione standing near the edge of the staircase waiting for him.
"You found something?"
"Not as such," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I had more of a realization as I was beginning to search the third floor. I'll definitely need to use Albus's Pensive to examine the memory more closely."
"Can you please elaborate, Hermione?" asked Harry with a sigh, Hermione had this annoying habit of always half-explaining something that left you clueless while she first ran off and tried to verify it.
"Do you recall that summer before fifth year when we were cleaning this house?"
"Vividly," said Harry dryly. His clones' memory of that time was some of the most emotionally tumultuous experiences he had ever seen. It was an endless rollercoaster of highs and lows, not to mention the arduous task of cleaning a house bristling with sinister artifacts and enchantments and magical pests of nearly every variety.
"We were binning a lot of the dark stuff we found in one of the studies, in the glass fronted cabinets," explained Hermione, her eyes closed, struggling to recall the memory, "there was that music box that cursed you with neverending sleep if listened too long…an Order of the Merlin…" she opened her eyes grimly, "and a heavy locket that we couldn't open."
Harry's eyes widened at that information and closed his own eyes…and delved into the memory of his clone within his own mind…the heavy locket…fifth year… "Damn, I recall it, yes, but it's too vague, we didn't pay attention to any markings on the thing."
"That's why we need a Pensive," stated Hermione. Harry felt a sick, sinking feeling come over him as he realized something. He sighed heavily and dropped his head. "What is it?"
"Assume this locket is indeed the one we're looking for," he said darkly, looking alternately at Neville and Hermione. "What do you think happened to all the objects we put in that sack? The locket surely was among all the debris, snuffboxes, and cursed tweezers we threw away!"
"You're saying…" said Hermione faintly, "we may have simply thrown away the Locket that may be the Horcrux?" Harry nodded grimly.
"Wait a minute," said Neville with a frown, "don't you guys remember that blasted house-elf that use to be here…Kreacher, when we were cleaning up, he was usually trying to sneak things away from the rubbish bag…things that were valuable to him or any member of the 'proper' Black family."
"By following that line of logic, we could conclude that anything belonging to Regulus would have been pilfered from the bags by Kreacher," said Harry thoughtfully. "Depending on where Sirius took the bags after cleaning was done for the day…Kreacher would have had ample opportunity to get into them."
"But I looked in Kreacher's old den, nothing there," said Neville, their thoughts now dwelt to where else the foul house-elf would've hidden the things he stole.
"The attic?" said Hermione…there was no further prompting required and as one they rushed up the stairs.
On the third floor corridor, Harry paused underneath the trapdoor leading into the attic. He reached up and pulled it open…a ladder descended and he promptly climbed up.
The attic was pitch dark, so he willed his staff to provide light. This caused twitters and menacing sounds to erupt all around him…clearly the place was filled with all sorts of vermin. He focused and let his power flare all around him…the menacing sounds abruptly cut off and were silenced. Neville and Hermione had climbed in by this time and had their wands out and raised…ready to fend off anything.
The attic was rather large as attics go. You could easily stand upright in it; the old, cobwebbed supports of the roof curved at angles all around them; the shapes of ages old boxes that was stacked haphazardly all around them.
"Watch your step, there are quite a few nasty little critters in hiding around here," said Harry softly, "I'm discouraging them from attacking, but if you step on them…"
"Understood," nodded Hermione, and they both lit their own wands and pointed the narrow shafts of light produced towards the floor and began to walk around the boxes, searching for anything that looked like a stash or hideout. After half an hour of fruitless manual searching Harry said, "Stand still, I'm going to try something…" He slammed his staff into the wooden floor and there was a bright flash from it. From the various boxes and all around them different colors of light emerged ethereally.
"If you see anything blue that is more than likely our Locket," stated Harry, looking around.
"What is this spell? Is it like my Magic Mist?" asked Hermione, looking around her.
"If Magic Mist is what you refer to as a spell that brings magic into the visible spectrum and assigns a color to it…then yes," nodded Harry. "The frequency for Blue I have assigned to any form of soul that is present in the room."
"Why aren't we blue then as well?" asked Neville.
"I consciously prevented the spell from affecting people, because we are not looking for a person as such," he explained as he looked around the attic for any blue light.
There was none.
Eventually, Harry waved his staff and the haze of colors all around the attic vanished.
"It's not here, but for thoroughness sake, we should check the second and third floors as well…" And that was just what they did. There was an initial sign of hope about an hour of searching later when Neville discovered a secret portal type doorway on the third floor in the master bedroom, but it only led to a similar door hidden on the ground floor…probably intended as a fast way to get down in case there was need for a hasty escape from the house.
The second floor was equally disappointing…though Hermione did score a few new books for herself from the remnants of the Black Library room.
"Ok, so it's not here," said Neville with a huff of disappointment. "Where else could it be?"
Harry sat down on a rickety old chair at a study desk where Hermione was busy dusting off the books with waves of her wand. He gazed around the room with the partially filled bookcases, his mind churning on this new problem…where could it be? Where could it be? He chanted it to himself in a mantra. He stared past Hermione as she eagerly opened a book after dusting it…she apparently couldn't see well in the low light of the room, and lit her wand with a Lumos Spell. His eyes caught a flash of silver from the initial flare of her spell. Sitting on one of the empty shelves of the library was a silver goblet.
Harry stood and walked towards the shelf, his eyes narrowed and frowning. He picked up the goblet, which for some reason seemed to stir a memory within. He turned it around and saw the Black family crest on the other side; the crest had been partly removed and now only hung on a single tiny hinge.
…Mundungus Fletcher, the criminal underworld spy for the Order of the Phoenix, was polishing a goblin wrought silver goblet with his cuff…asking Sirius how old the silver was…Sirius replied that it dated from the sixteenth century and that it was embossed with the Black Family crest…Mundungus muttered that it could come off…
…In sixth year Harry and his friends were walking through Hogsmeade, suspicious of Draco Malfoy…Harry bumped into Mundungus causing the sack the old thief was carrying to fall to the ground and spill all its contents…among them the goblet…Harry was furious, grabbed the thief and slammed him against a nearby wall…he was stealing from Grimmauld Place…Tonks mistakenly intervenes and Mundungus uses his chance to grab his loot and Apparate away…
"Harry?" asked Hermione in concern, placing a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his clones' memories. "Why are you staring at that goblet so intently?"
"I know who has the Horcrux, or at least, if he doesn't have it, he knows who has…" murmured Harry.
"What? Who?" asked Hermione urgently.
"Kreacher might have been pilfering here during fifth year…but during our sixth year another was doing the same…and we caught him red handed in Hogsmeade…"
"You don't think…" said Hermione, nearly gasping in realization.
"We have to find Mundungus Fletcher."