I am not J. K. Rowling, nor am I associated with Scholastic or Warner Brothers. However, I am associated with insane trolls.
OK, so this chapter isn't called "An Army of Keepers", it's called "The Power He Knows Not". "An Army of Keepers" should be out in a week's time and I'll try to have an update ready every Friday or Saturday from here on out. Thanks for your patience and understanding.
Chapter 19: The Power He Knows Not
Harry Potter's eyes opened slowly, his bleary eyesight and pounding head making him doubt what he saw once his eyelids fluttered open. After donning his glasses, however, there could be no doubt: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were standing over him with their wands drawn. "Don't take this the wrong way, mate," Ron advised him in a tone that was guarded but friendly. "We have to be sure it's you."
Groggily, Harry began to remember what had happened. The three of them, Luna and Snape had been inside the Chamber of Secrets when he had suddenly felt Voldemort's presence inside of him, as though the Dark Lord might be trying to possess him. He supposed he must have lost consciousness soon after. But he felt fine now; he could no longer sense the evil presence of Lord Voldemort in his mind. "I understand, Ron. Besides, turnabout's fair play, right?"
Ron smiled at that, well remembering how Harry had greeted Ron once he mentioned the Emerald of Edessa upon waking up from a coma. His smile vanished as Hermione shot him a 'get serious' look. "Ask him a question," she whispered audibly in his ear.
"Alright," Ron said smugly. "What's four times four?"
Harry looked puzzled at Ron's choice of a question. "Sixteen."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think Voldemort can do simple math, Ron. Let's try something only Harry would know." Hermione thought about this for a moment. "The first time that we, erm…"
"Made love?" Harry guessed with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Kissed," Hermione corrected him forcefully as Ron looked very uncomfortable. "Where were we?"
"In the master bedroom at Grimmauld Place," Harry answered matter-of-factly. Just as Ron heaved a sigh of relief, he added, "The same place where we were when we first made love."
Hermione blushed a deep shade of red and Ron let out an exasperated groan. "This is exactly the sort of thing that you don't find out when you ask math questions," the redhead pointed out.
"Are you feeling alright?" Hermione asked Harry as her eyes softened. "We were so worried about you."
"I feel a little weak," Harry answered honestly. "Woozy, too."
"But you don't feel evil?" Ron asked pointedly. Twin glares from Harry and Hermione made him add, "Just making sure."
Harry shook his head in bemusement. "I dunno what happened, exactly. One minute I was fine and the next there was Voldemort. It was like he was pushing me aside, or trying to make me weaker….does any of this make sense?"
"It does to me," Ron said confidently. "He's fighting you for dominance. This is exactly what happened with me and Septimus Prince. Two souls weren't meant to exist in the same body, Harry. It's unnatural. Eventually, one soul or the other has to end up on top."
"So how did you do it?" Harry asked, his interest clearly piqued.
Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "Give me a little credit. Would you really bet on a hundred-year-old squib who's been dead for forty years over me? Besides, I had home field advantage."
Hermione sat down beside Harry on the bed, her hand clutching his tightly. "Voldemort's bound to be a tougher opponent."
Harry nodded his agreement. "I don't even really have home field advantage. Voldemort's been inside my brain almost as long as I've been alive. He was just fenced in by Mum's barrier for most of it."
"I'd get serious about learning occlumency if I were you," Ron advised him, his demeanor now completely sober. "You might even ask Snape to teach you again."
Harry made a sour face as Hermione's eyes brightened. "Or you could ask Professor Chambers. His legilimency course worked for me." The expression on Harry's face did not change noticeably. "That reminds me," Hermione said suddenly as she reached inside her knapsack. "I have a copy of your Transfiguration assignment."
Ron let out a short laugh. "Yeah, mate. We have to turn in a foot and a half on how it makes us feel to transfigure our feet into blocks of ice." Ron looked thoughtful. "I'm trying to figure out how to stretch 'really, really cold' into several paragraphs."
Hermione scowled at Ron, but then turned her attention solely back to Harry. "Professor Chambers is a bit, erm, flaky, but I really think he could help you."
Despite the fact that Harry didn't share her faith in Professor Chambers, he did appreciate her deep concern for his well-being. "I'll consider that, Hermione. Thank you."
It was only another moment before Madame Pomfrey arrived to shoo Ron and Hermione away, despite the latter's vehement protests. Harry hated to see Hermione go, but reluctantly agreed with Hogwarts' resident Healer that bed rest should be his primary concern (and not necessarily the sort of bed rest that he tended to get when Hermione was around). After taking a series of potions, including one for dreamless sleep, he soon found himself drifting off again.
He awoke several hours later to find a stocky figure standing over him in the darkness. "Take this," an older man's deep voice instructed him. Harry grabbed an oddly shaped vial of liquid from the man's hands and began to examine its contents. "Don't drink it. That's acromantula venom, lad. One of the deadliest substances known to man."
Harry squinted in the darkness as he tried to make out the face that went with the man's familiar voice. "Professor Slughorn?" he guessed.
"I haven't very much time left," Slughorn told him in an urgent tone. "But I don't regret anything. I knew I had to tell you, once I found out."
"Found out what?" Harry asked in confusion. "What's going on?"
"The Dark Lord will not rest until he is once again inside these walls," Slughorn reported shakily. Now that Harry got a better look at him, his eyes seemed glassy and his demeanor stilted. "Hogwarts will be betrayed from within. Dumbledore's murder made it possible."
"How?" Harry questioned him frantically. "How do you know about all of this?"
"I…" he stammered. "I…can't reveal…" The old man then fell to his knees, as though he had been knocked down by an invisible hand. Slughorn seemed to be having trouble breathing and his hands went to his throat.
"Madame Pomfrey!" Harry called out, rising from his bed to do what he could for the old Potions Master. Before he could do much, Madame Pomfrey was at his side, applying a damp cloth to Slughorn's forehead and uttering calming phrases. Soon, Horace Slughorn was lying in the bed that was sitting next to Harry's. "Is he going to be alright?" Harry asked as his former teacher lost consciousness.
The Healer shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. Professor Slughorn is dying."
***
The next morning Harry had been allowed to leave Hogwarts' hospital wing. He was eager to do so, as he was curious to find out what had happened to bring Professor Slughorn back to the old castle. Harry was also very curious to know how Draco Malfoy, who he had discovered several beds down from Slughorn, had returned to Hogwarts and why his chest was so heavily bandaged. 'And why he isn't in Azkaban.' Upon entering the Great Hall, however, it became clear that his questions were going to have to wait.
Headmistress McGonagall was standing before the student body, along with just about every member of the Order of the Phoenix he'd ever met, plus a few others who he hadn't. "As I'm sure most of you are aware by now, we have some new faces on the Hogwarts staff. You've most likely already seen Assistant Professors Lupin, Moody and Shacklebolt around the castle and you may well recognize some of our other new faculty members as well. However, to avoid confusion, I think a proper introduction is in order." McGonagall gestured to each person in line in turn. "Nymphadora Tonks, Assistant Transfiguration Professor. Charles Weasley, Assistant Care of Magical Creatures Professor. William Weasley, Assistant Charms Professor. Arthur Weasley, Assistant Professor of Muggle Studies." The list went on as Headmistress McGonagall gave phony titles to every member of the Order of the Phoenix present.
There were, however, two people standing near the podium who were not members of the Order. Eventually, McGonagall came to them as well. "We are proud to have one of our more recent alumni, Oliver Wood, back with us as Special Assistant to Madame Hooch. Also, Mister Dorian Flemingworth, recently of the Department of Mysteries, has agreed to become our Assistant Professor of Divination." Once the Headmistress had dispensed with the introductions, she turned her attention to Professors Brinecove, Chambers and Percy Weasley. "I would also like to address the rather persistent rumors that have been swarming about the castle. It seems that some of you believe these new faculty members have been added in order to strengthen the power of an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix inside Hogwarts. I would like to stress to our friends from the Ministry of Magic that this is not the case and that the very existence of such an organization has yet to be proven. Thank you."
Harry quickly scanned the Great Hall and found Hermione sitting with Ron and Viktor Krum at the Gryffindor table. 'Wonderful. My girlfriend is with her two ex-boyfriends. This day just gets better all the time.' After crossing the distance between them, Harry wedged himself in between Hermione and Ron. "What's McGonagall doing, mentioning the Order of the Phoenix in public like that?"
"She may as well," Ron replied bitterly. "It's all over the Daily Prophet."
"What?" Harry asked as he picked up the latest copy of the wizard newspaper.
"Ron!" Hermione scolded him. "Harry doesn't need to see…"
But it was too late. 'Scrimgeour Blasts Harry Potter,' the headline blared. 'Minister Cites Internal Security Report Detailing Potter's Links to Subversive Group.' "He's calling the Order of the Phoenix a subversive group now?" Harry asked aloud.
"He almost did so at Fleur's vedding," Viktor Krum said, looking every bit as grumpy as Ron ever said he looked. "I think he vas vaiting for this report to come out before he said anything."
"The Deparment of Internal Security has been investigating the so-called Order of the Phoenix for a year now, in accordance with Ministerial Decree #6743," Harry read. "The report details the organization's repeated willingness to harbor half-breeds and traitors, such as Severus Snape. 'It is Potter's connection with this secret group that undoubtedly led him to recant his testimony against Snape which allowed the notorious Death Eater, Albus Dumbledore's murderer, to go free,' Minister Scrimgeour declared in a speech before the Wizengamot yesterday." Harry read through the rest of the article quickly, only to find another point of interest a few paragraphs down. "The report was largely prepared by former Deputy Minister for Internal Security Commodus Brinecove."
As Harry fumed, he could suddenly hear Brinecove's voice coming from a wizarding wireless set sitting in front of Hermione. "I've heard just about enough of your whining, Chambers. Minister Scrimgeour placed me in charge of this delegation. If I say we wait, then we wait."
At Harry's perplexed stare, Ron explained. "We're listening in on our teachers' private conversations. Cool, huh?" He gestured toward Viktor Krum. "It was all Vicky's idea."
Harry sent Viktor Krum a quizzical look. "How did you…?"
Hermione and Krum silenced Harry as another voice emanated from the wireless set. "How much longer can we wait, Commodus? McGonagall is obviously moving more of this 'Order of the Phoenix' in so that she can seize control of the school. She could make that move at any moment now…" Their words then turned to soft whispers and eventually became completely inaudible.
"Listening beetles," Krum answered Harry as he placed a small insect-like creature with a metallic shell onto the table. "I got the idea from a letter Hermy-own-ninny wrote me several years ago about that horrible Rita Skeeter voman."
"They're little magical listening devices," Hermione elaborated. "Aren't they clever?"
"Very," Harry agreed unenthusiastically. "So…Viktor. You've been eavesdropping on these Ministry-appointed morons. Are they up to no good or not?"
"They are usually much more careful about vot they say," Krum reported unhelpfully. "Today has been the exception, rather than the rule. However, they have spoken often of a plot to kill you."
Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "They're trying to kill me?"
Krum grunted. "Naturally, they do not talk about their own involvement in the plot. They don't seem very sad about you dying, though."
"Viktor thinks that the explosion at Bill and Fleur's wedding was their first attempt on your life," Hermione explained in a voice tinged with worry. "He also thinks that it won't be their last."
'I wasn't aware that Viktor Krum could think that much,' Harry thought to himself but did not say aloud. "Somebody at the wedding tried to warn me. They slipped me a note, saying someone was trying to kill me. I just assumed they meant Voldemort and that it was somebody's idea of a joke."
Everyone fell silent as the wizarding wireless crackled to life again. "I know perfectly well what they're up to," Percy Weasley declared prissily. "They're building up an army again, just as they were two years ago. Only now they'll want Potter to take up where Dumbledore left off. He's looking to overthrow Minister Scrimgeour."
"Hi, Harry," Neville said from behind him, startling him a bit. "Is it alright if I sit here?"
"No," Viktor Krum said coldly. "There are things being discussed at this table vich do not concern you."
Hermione turned to glare at Viktor Krum. "No one asked you, Viktor. I believe Neville was talking to Harry."
Harry couldn't help but smile at the exchange between Hermione and Krum. "Sure, Neville. Have a seat." As Neville Longbottom joined the three of them, Viktor Krum turned off the wizarding wireless set, picked it up and carried it off with him, an angry glower set on his face.
"Did I do something wrong?" Neville asked, a look of genuine concern etched on his face.
"Not a thing," Ron assured him with a smile. "Frankly, I think you did us all a favor."
"So I suppose everyone's heard about what happened last night?" Neville began a little nervously. "About Professor Slughorn and Draco Malfoy, I mean."
"I haven't," Harry answered honestly as Ron and Hermione remained silent. "I was in the hospital wing last night, so I saw them both, but I don't know what happened."
"They came through the Forbidden Forest," Neville told them with wonder in his voice. "No one knows why or what they were doing, but…the centaurs attacked them. They shot Malfoy with one of their poisoned arrows."
"Couldn't happen to a more deserving bloke, if you ask me," Ron remarked.
"I heard that someone poisoned Professor Slughorn," Neville added in a low voice. "It must have been someone here at Hogwarts, because he was fine when he brought Malfoy in."
"How did you find out about all of this, Neville?" Hermione asked with a look of curiosity on her face.
"Ginny told me," Neville reported matter-of-factly. "I assumed everyone knew. How else would Ginny have known if…"
Harry, Hermione and Ron shared a fearful look. "Ginny's been talking to Malfoy," Hermione said, speaking for the three of them.
Now it was Neville's turn to frown. "Why would Ginny be talking to Malfoy?"
"We, erm, caught them together while we were away from Hogwarts," Harry explained tactfully.
"By 'together', you mean…" The chagrined expressions on Harry, Ron and Hermione's faces were not hard for Neville to read. "Oh."
"Professor Slughorn talked to me last night, before he lost consciousness," Harry told the others as Neville fell deathly silent. "He gave me this." Harry withdrew the vial from the inside of his robes to show Ron and Hermione.
"What is it?" Ron asked. "A potion?"
"It's acromantula venom, isn't it?" Hermione guessed. "Professor Slughorn took it from Aragog last year."
Harry nodded. "He said he wanted me to have it. Slughorn also said something about Hogwarts being betrayed from within…and that Dumbledore's murder made it possible. He never got a chance to explain what he meant by that."
Neville looked as though he had come to a quick decision. "I need to show you guys something. Will you wait here while I get it?" The three of them nodded as the pudgy blond boy skittered off.
"You don't think it's some plant of his, do you?" Ron asked warily as he finished up the last few bites of his breakfast. "I don't fancy getting stinksap on my robes this early in the morning."
Hermione screwed up her nose in disgust. "Even stinksap would have to smell better than that awful stuff you're wearing."
Now that Hermione mentioned it, Harry had noticed a rather pungent odor when he had first sat down, but had assumed it was coming from Viktor Krum. "What do you have on, Ron?"
"It's a cologne that Luna made for me," Ron admitted with a blush. "Essence of Gurdyroot."
Hermione snickered. "Well, you may smell like an overgrown onion, but at least you won't have to worry about Pulping Blimpies."
"I don't smell like an onion," Ron protested, "and it's Gulping Plimpies that Gurdyroot helps to ward off, not Pulping Blimpies."
"It might as well do both, because neither of them actually exist," Hermione countered with a longsuffering expression. "Honestly, that stuff smells worse than that perfume you bought me for Christmas in fifth year."
Ron seemed trapped by that remark, so Harry felt it was safe to interject something a bit more topical into the conversation. "How did Malfoy get out of Azkaban?"
Hermione picked up the Daily Prophet angrily and turned the paper to page 7A. "This is what should have made the front page."
Harry scanned over the article quickly. "MLE Recommends Snape Accomplice Be Remanded to Hogwarts," he read aloud. "Draco Malfoy has been released into the custody of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after a controversial decision by the Magical Law Enforcement Division not to prosecute an underage wizard for war crimes. 'A seventeen-year-old boy needs an education, not a dementor's kiss,' says MLE spokeswoman Dolores Umbridge."
"It's barmy," Ron complained loudly. "There aren't even any more dementors guarding Azkaban. They've all gone over to Voldemort."
Harry couldn't help but think back to his fifth year at Hogwarts. "From what I've seen of Umbridge, I would have thought she'd be more in favor of the dementor's kiss than an education." Harry shook his head sadly. "I can't believe they actually released him."
"He's a Malfoy," Ron grumbled. "He may be a Death Eater, but he's rich and his family still has connections."
"Not to mention the fact that he was in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad," Hermione added. "If Umbridge had anything to do with his release, this could well be a way of returning a favor."
"Here it is," declared an obviously out of breath Neville Longbottom as he returned from the Gryffindor dormitories with an ink bottle and what appeared to be a carefully arranged pile of gum wrappers. "This is what I wanted to show you."
"Old gum wrappers and a bottle of ink?" Ron questioned in disbelief.
"I know that's all it looks like, but hear me out," Neville said in a pleading voice. None of the three of them said anything else as Neville continued speaking. "When I came of age, I inherited all of my parents' old things, including diaries, notes…and this special bottle of reappearing ink. I didn't know what it was used for until I accidentally spilled some on one of the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrappers Mum and Dad have been giving me."
"You kept all of the ones they gave you, didn't you?" Hermione asked. Neville nodded shyly. "Here's one I was given while we were visiting Ron. I held on to it for you."
"Great," Neville said with a smile as he took the gum wrapper from her. He then poured some of the ink on the wrapper, watching the red ooze seep through the glossy paper. "It usually takes a minute or so for the message to appear."
Harry gave Neville an inquisitive look. "What kind of message?"
"My parents were working on a case before they…before the incident," Neville explained in a soft voice that was almost a whisper. "They were investigating Hogwarts. There were rumors that a faculty member was a Death Eater. This was before Dumbledore hired Snape, of course."
"Who was it?" Ron asked with a frown.
Neville shrugged. "No one knew. That's what Mum and Dad were supposed to find out. They didn't get very far, though, before…Well, before they were driven mad." Neville held up the gum wrapper so that the others could see it. "The message is always the same. It's appeared on every gum wrapper Mum and Dad have ever handed me, once I use the ink on it."
"'Beware the carrier,'" Hermione read aloud. "What does that mean?"
"I wish I knew," Neville answered her glumly. "I was hoping that it was code or that it was mentioned somewhere in their journals, but there's nothing…" At a shushing gesture from Hermione, Neville became very quiet. Harry soon realized why she had done so, as Percy Weasley walked up from behind them, a disapproving scowl set on his face.
"Mr. Longbottom," Percy said pompously as he picked up the ink bottle, "Hogwarts' policy on contraband strictly forbids the use of reappearing ink, as it is easily turned into a tool for cheating. I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate this."
Before Ron could say something very angry and likely inappropriate, Neville said imploringly, "Please, sir, it was something of my parents'. I don't have very much that was theirs anymore. I promise I won't use it to cheat."
Percy's face broke out in an expression that actually looked sympathetic. "Very well, Mr. Longbottom. As long as you keep it in your dormitory and I never see it in a classroom, you may hold onto it."
"Thank you, sir," Neville replied gratefully. "I'll take it straight up to the dormitories." With that, Neville rushed off, bottle of ink in hand.
"That was actually decent of Percy," Harry remarked with a look of surprise.
"After we saw Neville's parents that time in the Closed Ward, I asked Mum and Dad about them," Ron explained. "They said Alice used to sit for them sometimes. Maybe Percy has fond memories of the Longbottoms." Entering the Great Hall shortly after Percy Weasley were Professors Chambers and Brinecove, who were looking around suspiciously. "He's still a git, though."
"Hermione," Harry said without looking at his girlfriend, his eyes fixed on the two professors, "would you mind asking Professor Chambers if he would give me an occlumency lesson? Maybe sometime later today?"
Hermione's expression brightened immediately. "Of course, Harry." She rose and walked over to their Transfiguration professor, capturing his attention quickly.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really think that that fraud Chambers is going to be able to teach you occlumency when Snape and Hermione couldn't?"
Harry shook his head. "No. But it does give me a chance to speak with Professor Brinecove alone." With that, Harry followed in Hermione's footsteps, calling out to the DADA Professor as he began to give Professor Chambers and Hermione a wide berth. "Do you have a moment?"
"For you, Mr. Potter, I have all the time in the world," Brinecove answered with a coy grin. "You are one of the most gifted students I've come across, although you have developed an unfortunate habit of storming out of my classroom. I would prefer that, in future, you stay for the duration of the class, no matter how boring it may get."
Harry did his best not to say anything that would earn him a detention, as he had no idea what sort of sick punishment Brinecove would dream up for him, but his class had not been 'boring' in the least. In fact, Harry was quite certain that if his name had been on Mrs. Weasley's family clock, he would be in 'mortal peril' every time he went to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "I wanted to talk to you about Ravenclaw's quill."
Brinecove's cheery demeanor vanished. He was now all business. "What about the quill, Mr. Potter?"
"I need to borrow it for a while," Harry informed him vaguely. "I can't really explain why, but it's important." Harry didn't know quite what to say to get the current Head of Slytherin House to give him the quill, other than to tell Brinecove about the horcruxes, which he definitely did not want to do.
Commodus Brinecove shook his graying head sadly. "I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but in light of the serious attempt to steal the quill this summer, I'm afraid I cannot permit students to have access to it. Not even such a promising student as yourself."
"But you don't understand!" Harry retorted angrily. "The quill is important! If I don't…if it isn't…" But how could he explain to Brinecove why he needed to destroy the quill when he hardly understood the reason himself? As much as Voldemort seemingly wanted the horcruxes gone as badly as Harry did, if Ravenclaw's quill were destroyed before Halloween, Voldemort would be mortal. Harry could kill him before he even reached the Temple of Osiris. One good 'Avada Kedavra' would do the job.
Brinecove's eyes met Harry's and seemed to take on a sinister glint. "I know exactly how important Ravenclaw's quill is, Mr. Potter. That is why I'm keeping such a close watch on it." Harry frowned, thinking back to what Snape had said about Voldemort's original plan for Marvolo Gaunt's ring: a safe horcrux that would be kept intact until the time was right for Voldemort to enter the Temple of Osiris. 'That must be what Brinecove's doing with Ravenclaw's quill,' Harry deduced.
Before Harry could say something profane to Brinecove, Hermione and Professor Chambers joined them. "So, Mr. Potter," Chambers began bombastically, "Miss Granger tells me that you would like a private occlumency lesson. I'm flattered, of course, but I have to warn you…private lessons are not cheap. My time is quite valuable, you see, and…well, I can't just let everyone learn the ancient and respected art of guarding the mind, can I?"
Harry bristled at the very idea of a Hogwarts teacher charging students for their lessons, but said nothing once he saw the encouraging look in Hermione's eyes. "Fine. I'll pay you."
"Excellent," Professor Chambers responded, his eyes lighting up suddenly. "We'll meet after your last class, hm? Say around…three o'clock?" Harry nodded, but did not pay his Transfiguration teacher any further attention, concentrating solely on Brinecove.
"I'll have the quill before Halloween," Harry told Brinecove with an angry sort of confidence. "One way or the other."
Professor Brinecove smiled thinly. "I like your style, Mr. Potter. Very well, I accept your challenge. You will try to take Ravenclaw's quill from me before Halloween and I shall do my level best to keep it from you." The older man scratched his chin. "This may well be good for a laugh someday."
As Brinecove walked off, both Harry and Hermione stared after him. "He really is quite strange, isn't he?" Hermione asked Harry with a furrowed brow.
"They both are," Harry declared, looking at Brinecove and Chambers disdainfully as the former joined the latter over a cup of tea. "Honestly, does the Ministry ever hire anyone normal?"
Their eyes darted to the now much enlarged faculty table, where Mad-Eye Moody had singed a hole through Tonks' pink spiked hair with his wand, presumably by accident. "I don't know," Hermione mused, mostly to herself. "Kingsley Shacklebolt seems normal enough."
Harry's eyes soon wandered to the other end of the table where all of the professors and assistant professors were sitting, only to find Dorian Flemingworth chatting with Luna Lovegood. "Then again, sometimes 'normal' can be overrated." Harry looked the older man over for a moment, well remembering his dream as Flemingworth when he was a young Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. He had written the definitive essay on the properties of Ravenclaw's quill and had been possessed by Voldemort through the quill, which had enabled him to access the Chamber of Secrets. Harry turned his head to one side thoughtfully. Their new Assistant Professor of Divination just might be willing and able to help him destroy Ravenclaw's quill. "I think I'd like to have a word with Assistant Professor Flemingworth."
"Alright," Hermione agreed happily, guessing instantly what Harry was up to. "Just don't threaten him. He may not take it as well as Professor Brinecove did."
As Harry approached the teachers' table, he couldn't help but overhear some of Flemingworth's conversation with Luna. "…and that's how we ended up on this very ceiling with our trousers on backwards. Tell me, child, is your Uncle Deimos still living in Portugal?"
Luna's face fell. "I'm afraid so, sir."
"That's a shame. It truly is." When Flemingworth saw Harry approaching Luna, he stopped talking and pointed him out to his old friend's niece.
"Hi, Harry," Luna greeted him enthusiastically. "This is Dorian Flemingworth. Dorian, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Dorian. Dorian, Harry," she finished, crossing her arms and pointing at each of them in turn for emphasis.
"I know who he is," Harry and Dorian said at the same time. This was followed by an awkward pause. "There was something important I wanted to talk to you about," both men again said simultaneously.
"You've obviously rehearsed this conversation," Luna declared as she gathered up her things (some of which appeared to be attempting an escape) and slung them over her shoulder. "Ronald and I have those every so often. Since I don't have any lines in this one, though, I should probably be going." Luna paused to whisper something in Harry's ear. "Don't step on his cues. He won't like that."
"My reputation seems to have proceeded me," Dorian Flemingworth remarked with a small smile once Luna had left. "I had no idea people would still remember the mischief that Deimos Lovegood and I used to get ourselves mixed up in."
A half-smile formed on Harry's lips. "Ravenclaw House doesn't usually attract troublemakers."
"True," Dorian confirmed. "We are a notoriously stodgy lot. But I'm sure you didn't come over here to talk about my past. What's on your mind, Mr. Potter?"
"Actually, I did want to talk about your past," Harry said, causing the middle aged Ravenclaw to frown. "You were awarded Ravenclaw's quill when you were at Hogwarts, weren't you? You wrote an essay about it?"
"Indeed," Dorian Flemingworth affirmed, his expression now a grim one. "I also recommended to Professor Flitwick and Headmaster Dumbledore that the practice of awarding the quill to students be discontinued after it caused me to have blackouts and memory loss. They dismissed it as just another one of the pranks that Deimos and myself often pulled."
"Ravenclaw's quill is more dangerous than you know," Harry told him, his voice grave. "I've been trying to get my hands on it for months, but I'm afraid Professor Brinecove has it stashed somewhere where I can't get to it. You diagrammed the magical properties of the quill…is there any way that I could destroy it from a distance?"
Flemingworth shook his head. "I'm sorry. If the quill could have been destroyed easily, I would have done so when I was a student at Hogwarts."
Harry looked downcast for a moment, then remembered what else Flemingworth had said. "You said there was something important you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Yes," Dorian Flemingworth answered him, "but it would be preferable if we discussed the matter elsewhere. Although the din in the Great Hall may be deafening to some, you never know who will be able to overhear what you say here."
"I have Potions class in a few minutes," Harry pointed out, if only because he knew Hermione would chide him for being late or skiving off classes. He had absolutely no desire to be taught by Percy Weasley.
"I'm a faculty member now. I'll write you a note." Flemingworth motioned for Harry to follow him. "Come on. Let's go to the Divination tower."
***
"I've noticed that you're not taking Divination, Mr. Potter," Dorian Flemingworth pointed out as the
two of them approached the tower. "Is that a personal preference or is it simply an unnecessary step in your
chosen career?"
"A little of both," Harry said, attempting to dodge the question of what his 'chosen career' would be.
Flemingworth clucked disapprovingly. "That's too bad. I'll be taking over Professor Trelawney's class and I've heard nothing but good things about Professor Firenze. Given how many of our teaching positions have been filled by Ministry appointees, I'd wager Divination's the best taught class at Hogwarts right now."
Harry frowned. "What happened to Professor Trelawney?"
"Officially, a touch of the flu," Dorian answered. "Unofficially, more than a touch of cooking sherry. With Brinecove breathing down McGonagall's neck, they can't afford for any of their classes to fall below the Ministry's standards." The two of them entered the Divination Tower and ascended the stairwell. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what is your opinion of Divination?"
"I believe it works sometimes, if that's what you mean," Harry replied, his expression growing more and more befuddled as Assistant Professor Flemingworth grabbed a crystal ball and placed it in front of Harry as he took a seat. "I'm rubbish at it, though. Always have been."
"I believe that every witch and wizard has a bit of the sight in them," Flemingworth went on. "That doesn't mean that they can make prophecies or see the future, but they do have a certain sensitivity to the possibilities that are available to us. Magic does not only exist inside of you when you use your wand, Mr. Potter. It flows through us. It is an energy which can be harnessed. Those who harness it well and wisely can become truly great. Albus Dumbledore was such a wizard. His death was a cataclysmic event in our world. It has thrown the flow of magic, what should be the equilibrium of light and dark, off balance."
"Dumbledore," Dorian Flemingworth went on as he sat opposite Harry, a small round table with a crystal ball the only thing sitting between them, "wrote me a letter before he died, asking me to do something for you. Once Headmistress McGonagall offered me this position, I gladly accepted it, hoping to get the chance to do what he asked. And now I have. Mr. Potter, if you would, put your hands on the orb." Cautiously, Harry did just that, placing his fingers on the glass delicately. "Are you familiar with the Department of Mysteries?" Harry nodded. "Yes. Albus indicated that you would be. Perhaps that will help with the disorientation. Now close your eyes, or you could end up with a very painful headache."
Harry almost asked Dorian Flemingworth why he would feel disoriented, but before he could do so, Flemingworth's hands covered the other half of the orb and suddenly they were no longer sitting in the Divination tower at Hogwarts. They were standing inside the Department of Mysteries, in one of the long dark corridors that Harry remembered well from his fifth year. "How did you do that?" Harry asked as he looked around in amazement. "You can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds."
"Physically, we are still on Hogwarts grounds," Flemingworth explained. "Psychically, however, we have entered the Department of Mysteries. Come this way and stay close. It is remarkably easy to get lost on the astral plane."
"Astral plane?" Harry questioned in complete befuddlement. "Why are we on the astral plane? What's going on?"
"I've known since I was a boy that I had the gift of sight," Flemingworth explained as he guided them through the dark, winding halls of the Department of Mysteries. "I could not prophesy, but I could see things that others could not. My spirit could go places where my body was not."
"Astral projection," Harry said to himself as they rounded a corner. "So where are you taking me?"
Dorian Flemingworth continued to look straight ahead as they glided around the deep recesses of the Ministry of Magic. "To a locked room, deep inside the Department of Mysteries, where few have ever dared to go."
Harry thought back to the room inside the Department of Mysteries which Dumbledore had described when he had first informed Harry of the prophecy. The room that contained a force that was at once more wonderful and more terrible than death. According to Dumbledore, this force was the power that the prophecy spoke of; the power the Dark Lord knows not. "What's inside the room?" Harry inquired curiously.
"The most powerful magic of all, Mr. Potter," Flemingworth answered in an awestruck voice. "Love." They floated on in silence for a few moments, finally stopping in front of an ordinary-looking door with a shiny brass handle. "Here we are. You may go inside anytime you like."
Harry eyed Dorian Flemingworth suspiciously. "You're not coming with me?"
Flemingworth chuckled. "The last time I set foot inside this room, my wife and I had to go on a second honeymoon. I'm afraid I cannot afford to make that mistake again. I can assure you, however, that no dangers await you. Dark magic cannot exist inside this room." Harry gave the door one last hesitant glance. "I'll be right outside. Since we're on the astral plane, you will still be able to hear me, even through the door."
Boldly, Harry stepped into the closed door and phased through it, only to come out on the other side none the worse for wear. Once he took a look around at his new surroundings, however, he was unimpressed. "There's nothing here." The room was completely empty, save for Harry's intangible form.
"Pure love can amplify magic a hundredfold," Dorian Flemingworth's voice called out from the hall. "Thus, no magical items can be kept inside. What you must see will arrive momentarily. Love is patient, Mr. Potter. It would be wise for you to be so as well."
Before Harry could say anything more, a small flash of bright light appeared. Within moments, it enlarged itself and began swirling around him, nearly blinding him with its brilliance. Once he could look into it, he saw images from his own life: his parents playing with him as a baby, Hagrid rescuing him from the Dursleys on his eleventh birthday, Hermione telling him he was a great wizard just before he faced Professor Quirrell in first year, Dumbledore coming to visit him in the Hospital Wing after he defeated Quirrell, learning that Sirius Black was not the man who had betrayed his parents, but his kind and loving godfather…
The moments soon became names and faces and the feelings that went with them, some of them quite strong. "How do you feel now, Mr. Potter?" Dorian asked.
"Powerful," Harry answered honestly. At the moment, he felt like he could take on a hundred Voldemorts. More memories of his parents, Dumbledore and Sirius flashed across the stream of light that surrounded him. "Why am I seeing so much of Mum and Dad and Sirius and Dumbledore?"
"Because your love for them is no longer requited in this life," Flemingworth explained. "Given enough time in that room, you will feel the emotions of everyone who has ever truly loved you. Sometimes it takes a while for the feelings of the living to connect to each other."
Harry soon saw what Dorian Flemingworth was talking about, as Ron's strong, brotherly affections for him came on like a wave. Then he felt Remus' emotions: complex yet no less powerful, an almost fatherly love from someone unlikely to have children of his own. It brought tears to Harry's eyes just thinking about it. Those tears came in handy when his emotions connected with Hermione's.
"Oh!" Harry cried out in spite of himself. The strength and depth of her emotions was overpowering. It made him want to weep and shout for joy all at once. 'No wonder Mr. Flemingworth had to take his wife on a second honeymoon,' Harry thought to himself. 'Hermione and I are going to have to spend some time alone together when I get back.'
As all of these feelings flooded through him, his heart swelled with a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment. A strong emotion welled within him, stronger than any he had felt before. It felt like his love for Hermione combined with his love and admiration for Dumbledore combined, but multiplied by several hundred. Before Harry could think much on this, however, he found himself back in the Divination classroom, looking across the table at Dorian Flemingworth. "What happened?"
"You saw what you needed to," Dorian assured him. "I have done what Dumbledore asked of me."
"But…what does that mean? How is love supposed to help me defeat Voldemort?" Harry demanded to know.
"I do not know, Mr. Potter," Flemingworth answered simply. "I suspect the answer to that is something that you're going to have to figure out for yourself."
Thank you so, so very much to all of you who are continuing to read this story. Reviewers are my faves, though. Just saying.
ITL