Chapter Fifteen
'Tis the Season to be Jolly
The rest of that night Harry, Hermione and Ron stayed in the tower room in the company of Albus Dumbledore. They thought they had a lot to tell him, but once they knew the secret of the mirrors it was clear that the old man already had most of the information. Nevertheless they talked for several hours then, exhausted by the events of the evening before, first Ron and then eventually Harry dozed off, but Hermione found that she could not sleep. She was feeling a little disconcerted with the knowledge that Dumbledore was able to focus these mirrors on anything he chose and that he had watched them all through the days since he had recovered enough to control the farseers. Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses at the expression on Hermione's face, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he patted her on the back of her hand in a reassuring way.
"Don't concern yourself my dear, the farseers do not allow ahh… inappropriate viewing." He smiled, "I am however very glad that you two found each other in the end. It was a very long time in the making, inevitable of course, despite the little ups and downs, but then the course of true love never did run smooth."
If Hermione was surprised at Dumbledore's assertion that she and Harry were fated to be together she didn't show it, instead she gazed at the dark haired young man dozing on the sofa and thought about her feelings for him.
"It's strange but now it has happened, I always knew it would be with him," there was a couple of seconds silence, "Err… falling in love I mean." She added hastily. "Why is it that we always fight the inevitable or cannot see what is right in front of us?"
"It is the nature of muggle and wizard kind, to try and change the world to fit what we want it to be," Dumbledore answered, "and usually when it is done for our individual gratification we change it into a worse place than it would have ended up if we had not tried so hard. Tom is beginning to understand this now; he has altered what life had in store for him so much and has turned it into a very dark place indeed."
"But Harry wants to change the world as well; will it all fall apart for him too?"
"Harry doesn't want the change for himself," Dumbledore looked over at the sleeping boy, "he is not even sure he will survive his attempt. He wants the change to happen so everyone else is safe and happy, especially you my dear."
Hermione managed the smallest of sad smiles, "You will be able to help him, won't you?"
The old man sighed, "I will do what I can of course, but my magic is not what it was and my power is weak at best."
"But you stopped him from falling, and brought him here," she said indignantly, "that must have taken a lot?"
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "Yes you are correct as usual, but most of the power came from Harry himself and some from the very fabric of the school; it appears to have rather a soft spot for our young hero, very little came from me and you saw how tired it made me."
"So we are still on our own then," Hermione suddenly felt the hours of frenetic activity catching up with her. "I just hoped that…"
"That I could take over and all your troubles would be gone?"
"Yes, silly really." she yawned widely. Hermione lay back in her chair, her eyes were so heavy she was having difficulty in keeping them open, and in the tick between one second and the next, everything slipped into blackness and sleep claimed her.
"That is something you will never be my child," Dumbledore said to the sleeping girl, "that prerogative is only open to old men like me."
* * *
When Ron awoke he was lying most uncomfortably across an armchair close to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, as he tried to sit up his back protested and he grumbled with the pain. He stretched and yawned and tried to remember why he was there, he rubbed is eyes to clear the last of the sleep from them and eventually he focused on the forms of Harry and Hermione cuddled up on the sofa, they looked far more comfortable than he was, and he decided that wasn't fair.
"Hey you two, its time to get up!" levered himself out of the chair and walked over to Harry and prodded him in the arm."
"What time is it Ron?" Harry voice was slurred in sleep.
"Err… don't know," Ron admitted, "but the sun is up." And he crossed the room to look out of the window and could see the crumbled remains of the bell tower, and then dim memories began to surface.
"Morning Harry," murmured a voice in his ear, sending a very pleasant sensation down his spine, which was followed by a kiss on the lips.
"Morning yourself," and he replied in kind.
"When you two have quite finished," said Ron purposefully keep his back turned towards the pair, his mind working hard to recall the previous evening's events and block out the activity on the sofa. "In case you have forgotten we ought to do something about the damage we did last night." At least he remembered that much.
Then with proper wakefulness the memories of the previous evening flooded back, and all three of them began to talk at once. There was excitement as they remembered about Kreacher, the locket, the fight on the roof, and the destruction of Voldemort's fourth piece of soul. They had done it, that they knew, but when they reached the point that ended with the blast of fire from Norbert the memories became confused. How they had made their way back into the castle was a mystery, and as to how they had finished up in the common room, none of them had a clue. The whole episode, with the old Headmaster in his room atop the Gryffindor Tower, may just as well have never happened.
They were still trying to work it all out when there was a quiet POP and Dobby, staggering under the weight of a large tray, appeared in front of them. Harry grabbed the breakfast tray the house elf had brought them before it ended up on the floor.
"Thanks Dobby, much appreciated." Harry had long ago given up wondering how the house elf knew where to find him and almost expected him to appear just when he was needed. "Do you know how we got here?"
The elf's large round eyes became even larger and he appeared a little uncomfortable, "No sir, Harry Potter sir, Dobby doesn't, but he knows that the castle elves helped last night. We took care of Kreacher, he was a bad elf," Dobby shook his head sadly at the old elf's fate. "And Miss Hermione's wand is back in her pocket. The bad wizard didn't do it any harm."
"Will you thank the other elves for us," said Harry patting the little man on the shoulder, realising how hard it must have been for them all having to deal with Kreacher, bad elf or not.
"Yes, sir, I will sir, and Harry Potter is not to concern himself with the damage, the castle elves will fix it." Dobby added hastily and then promptly vanished.
"Well," said Ron advancing on the table, "no point in wasting a good breakfast." He grinned at the others and stuffed a whole slice of toast in his mouth in one go.
They left the school as soon as they finished breakfast, and although they expected there to be a few students around they saw no one. Walking to the gates and the road beyond they apparated away, breaking their journey back to the Burrow by stopping briefly at Godrics Hollow.
Ron had never seen the small white cottage Harry and Hermione now called home, and although he envied them their independence he knew at what cost it had been bought. Ron's tour of the small dwelling did not take very long and pausing only to collect a few belongings, they prepared to leave. Harry locked the front door while Ron and Hermione walked to the edge of the wood to take in the sight of the little valley and the village of Godrics Hollow. There was no snow this far south but the air was very cold, and some of the north facing fields still held the rime frost that gave the valley a fairytale appearance.
"Lovely place," said Ron.
"Its home," Hermione sounded very wistful, "All I've ever really wanted."
"Is it?"
"Well maybe there will be other things in the future, but this will do for a start." She turned to the red headed young man, "You ok Ron?"
"Me? …Yeh fine. Sorry about ….well you know, but things turned out for the best didn't they?" The image of a certain young blonde haired lady flashed into his mind, and he smiled.
Hermione saw the far away look in Ron's eyes; it wasn't difficult to work out who was in his thoughts now. "Yes you're right it was for the best, and remember Ron that all our actions, good and bad, have an effect, they will cause something else to happen, and that in turn leads to…. and so on and so on. The muggles call it the butterfly effect…"
There was something very odd here, she suddenly had an incredibly strong feeling that this conversation had occurred before, but she couldn't remember where. She gave a little "Umm," in thought and frowned as she wracked her brains for the answer.
"If you say so." said Ron bowing to her superior intelligence; he hadn't understood a word of it. He looked around for his other best friend and saw him emerging from the trees to one side of the cottage; "Come on Harry what you doing over there?"
"Checking on Mum and Dad," said Harry with no trace of self consciousness, and smiling forgivingly at Ron's embarrassment. "You two ready?" They nodded. "Right let's go."
Several hundred miles away in a snowbound Castle an old man stared into a mirror, he watched, that was all he could do for now. When the time was right their memories would return, it was better to leave it this way so that all the butterflies could have their maximum effect. Dumbledore chuckled and his blue eyes twinkled behind his half moon glasses, she was a smart one that Hermione and he made a wager with himself that she would be the first one to work it all out and remember.
* * *
Harry certainly had to mark down this Christmas as one of his better ones. On their arrival back at the Burrow they were greeted enthusiastically by Mrs Weasley who immediately began grilling Ron on what he thought of Godrics Hollow, they had used the excuse of taking Ron there as the reason for their absence over the last day and a bit. Harry didn't like deceiving anyone, Molly in particular, but he had stretched his promise to Dumbledore in letting Remus and Tonks in on the Horcrux hunting and anyway the matriarch of the Weasley clan had enough to worry about.
Mrs Weasley was evidently satisfied that they had gone where they had assured her they were going because she didn't mention it again and immediately enrolled Harry and Ron into helping with the preparations for the Weasley Christmas gathering. Hermione excused herself and sought out Fleur and Bill to discuss the progress on Greyback's potion.
She found that Fleur was bitterly disappointed that the healers at St. Mungo's, having discovered the components of the potion and reproduced it, had reached an impasse and were unable to develop the treatment any further. However she had assured Hermione that she had not given up and had passed the concoction on to two of the most brilliant potion manipulators she had ever met. To say that Hermione was concerned when she learned that it was to Fred and George that Fleur had entrusted the potion was perhaps an understatement and her unusually noisy apparation to their shop in Diagon Alley reinforced her worried state of mind.
The shop Hermione appeared in was empty but the sound of activity and a great deal of pungent smoke was issuing from the stairs that led down to the basement workshop.
"Who's there?" was yelled up from the mists below; either Fred or George had heard the sound of her apparation.
"Hermione!" she yelled back.
"Oh bugger," floated up the stairs to the ears of the person who was not supposed to hear it, "Err… be with you in a moment, delicate stage of the process…." was spoken in a louder tone followed by… "No not in that jar use the…" but whatever it was that should have been used was lost in the explosion that rattled the contents of the shop and changed the smoke coming up from the workshop from a deep pink to a bright yellow. The smoke was closely followed by Fred and George running up from the workshop gasping for air. They paused in the shop proper only long enough to grab Hermione by the arms and drag her on up the stairs at the back that led to the small flat on the first floor.
"Sorry about that," either Fred or George apologised, as they sat her in the one comfortable chair, "but as we said, delicate stage," the other finished. "Tea?" and they both looked at her hopefully. The twins had suffered Hermione's wrath once before and they had no wish to repeat the experience.
"Thanks, little milk and no sugar," she said sweetly and both young men looked at each other and swallowed nervously.
"Well?" it was amazing how much feeling Hermione was able to put into that simple one word question. She sat there, her cup of tea balanced on her knee, the twins sitting before her like a pair of Labradors waiting for a crumb of food from their master's plate.
"Err… the potion, you mean?" Said one, nervously, "Going well," finished the other, in trepidation.
Hermione couldn't help it she burst out laughing, "Are you really that scared of me?"
"Yes," chorused the twins.
"Oooh, power," she chortled, but then relented, "Look, as long as you are being sensible with this potion I will trust you. Fleur does, I'm not sure about Bill, but then he has known you both since you were born. I'll follow her lead on this one, just don't let us down."
"We are talking about doing something to help our brother here," said George mildly and bravely admonishing Hermione for thinking that they would not try their hardest.
"And you would be surprised how far we've got," put in Fred, "those St. Mungo's potion twirlers have nothing on us."
"Ok how far have you got? That explosion just now didn't sound too helpful."
"Oh that! That was nothing to do with the potion; that was a new formulation of the main ingredient of our old nosebleed nougat," Fred smiled encouragingly, Hermione looked horrified. "Makes it too powerful though," he added as an after thought.
"Here, this is how far we have progressed," and George held out two clear bottles that he had retrieved from a small cupboard.
One contained a black liquid that, of its own accord swirled ominously in the bottle. The second bottle held a light blue transparent liquid, in its centre was suspended a golden cloud that moved with the fluid and sparkled with tiny beams of light. Hermione was entranced; the cloud in the bottle looked almost alive, constantly changing its shape, flowing from one form to another.
"The little cloud is the magic ingredient, if you'll pardon the pun," said George. "The black liquid is the original potion; hidden in its ingredients we found the part that governs the shape changing. When you refine it and add pure powdered moonstone to the mix the blue potion forms and the cloud appears after it stands for twenty nine minutes."
"The whole thing is guided by the cycle of the moon," he continued, "everything is in twenty nines."
Hermione found this explanation at least plausible. "It's only a theory but as it takes twenty nine minutes to form we expect the effect of the potion to last for twenty nine hours, and it will remain fresh and usable for twenty nine days. So if it works, a potential werewolf takes the potion once a day for the duration of the full moon and he or she should remain human."
"There is still a lot of work to be done on it," added Fred, "but we need to test it first and there isn't a full moon until after Christmas, we were hoping to try it then."
Hermione had to admit it that she was impressed; she had always thought the twins were far too erratic to produce anything that was genuinely useful. Sure they had come up with some innovative stuff but this Anti-interlunium potion, if it was to work, would be something of which they could be justly proud, and then she had an idea.
"You will be providing this treatment to other werewolves won't you?"
"Oh yes, if it works," George replied.
"And you will be providing it free of charge?" she said sweetly.
"Err …Umm, hadn't really thought about it," Fred replied, cautiously.
"It would be such a shame if your mother found out about Ron and the potions and…" her tone was mild, but held the threat of impending doom.
"We talked it over only the other day," said George hastily, "don't you remember," Fred stared open mouthed at his brother. "Yes 'course you do and you said it would be our public duty to give it away for nothing."
"I did?" asked Fred, unable to take his eyes from his brothers wildly nodding head.
"Oh yes …so I did," he said catching on at last. "Public duty, that's right, no charge at all," and the pain of the admission almost brought tears to his eyes.
"That's fine then," said Hermione, and having won another concession from the twins she relented, "I think we can call the matter of certain emotion enhancing potions closed for good don't you?"
"Thanks Hermione," both boys chorused.
"But don't you ever let me catch you at anything like that again."
Eventually Hermione returned to the Burrow. She was surprisingly in a much better frame of mind now than when she had left. Perhaps curing werewolves was not uppermost in most wizards minds these days, there were after all far more pressing problems out there to deal with, but as she watched Fleur and Bill walking out in the cold night air of that Christmas Eve, she knew that for some success with this potion would be just as life changing as anything that Voldemort could throw at them.
On Christmas morning they had all exchanged presents, and at midday demolished the most enormous meal that Harry had ever seen. Every one of the Weasley's had turned up to partake of the festivities and Harry sat with Hermione in the middle of this large family that formed such an important part of his life. He felt a tinge of sympathy for Colin who was squashed on a sofa between Ginny and Percy, under the watchful eye of Molly Weasley, who would furrow her brow at him if the poor lad leaned closer to her daughter than her son. So he tried to sit bolt upright, hardly daring to move. Mr Weasley could obviously see the boy's discomfort and knew the reason for it. His wife was such a dear but far too possessive where her offspring were concerned and so, with much persuasion he removed her to the kitchen, where with the older children they embarked on a long game of cards. Harry could see the tension run out of Colin as he collapsed against Ginny.
"I thought facing that giant was bad," he said staring intently into Ginny's brown eyes, "but standing up to your mum…"
Harry laughed, "Don't worry about it Colin," he reassured him, "all of us have suffered the rigors of coping with Mrs Weasley. Underneath she is really very kind, she just cares a lot."
"I'm glad you think so Harry," said a voice from the doorway, at these words Harry blanched and he looked for a rock to hide under, "I only came back for my knitting. Ahh there it is," and Molly retrieved a tangled mess of wool and needles from the chair she had so recently vacated. "I'll leave you on your own….as long as you behave Harry, and that goes for you too Colin." was her parting shot.
She swept out of the room and as Harry gave a deep sigh of relief he heard Mrs Weasley's voice from the kitchen, berating her husband. "Those children Arthur will be the death of me, and where did you say Ron had disappeared to?" there was silence as Mr Weasley gave an inaudible reply then "Where! Oh my sainted Aunt, they're all growing up far too fast."
"Where is Ron by the way?" Colin asked.
"He's gone to see Luna at her Dad's," Ginny told him, "probably thought mum wouldn't give him any peace here."
"Probably right," mumbled Harry into Hermione's ear.
As it was Ron returned to the Burrow just as it was getting dark and had to run the gauntlet of his mothers displeasure as he passed through the kitchen, but even so when he entered the sitting room he had a very satisfied smile on his face.
"Good time Ron?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, really good …best ever," and Ron plonked himself into a vacant arm chair, and gave Harry a wide grin.
* * *
Those few days after Christmas and before the start of the New Year when nothing ever seems to get done and the days pass in a dreamy holiday state were days of frantic activity in preparing for the testing of the twins potion. Two large metal cages were setup in the Weasley's shed, empty since the disappearance of Arthur's Ford Anglia some years before; padding and other sound proofing were packed around them, just in case things didn't go as planned.
Tonks and Remus arrived during the afternoon before the rising of the first full moon; they had spent their Christmas keeping a very close watch on the house at Spinners End and reported to Harry that all was quiet. Severus Snape had been seen several times but had only left the house for a few hours each time, and as they didn't have the resources to follow him his destinations on these occasions were unknown.
"We reckon he goes to the same place each time Harry," said Remus, "the amount of time he is away is fairly constant. It's only a guess but Tonks and I think he is reporting to Voldemort." Remus paused for a moment, not sure if he should broach the subject he had been considering. "Look Harry, Severus is very predictable in his pattern of leaving the house it would be quite easy to set a trap, and well… deal with him if you see what I mean."
Harry did see, and the animosity he felt toward his old potions master flared again, but the hate he expected to be there against the man who murdered Dumbledore, failed to appear. Something told him that killing Snape was not what he wanted to do, for the life of him he couldn't understand why, but he reasoned that simple dislike was not a good excuse.
"No all we need to do is watch for a while, Snape's destiny will catch up with him sooner or later."
"Ok Harry whatever you say."
Even then it didn't occur to the young man that all these far more experienced witches and wizards were not only asking his opinion but deferring to his decisions as well. Very slowly Harry was forming his own small army; an army that one day might have to stand in the path of Voldemort and his minions.
That would hopefully be months away and for the moment not even considered, it was the potion trial that was uppermost in everyone's mind. At the appropriate time Bill and Remus were locked in the cages and the twins brought them two identical vials of the light blue liquid with its golden sparkling centre.
"Give them a good shake and down them in one go," said George to the two men, "Hermione tells us it would be logical for the potion to take effect in twenty nine seconds, but we've given it half an hour to be on the safe side."
"You're sure there is nothing in this that will kill us," asked Remus looking suspiciously at the small bottle.
"No, no nothing at all…" Fred assured him, "as far as we are aware anyway," he added quietly.
Remus grunted noncommittally. "Come on Remus you want to live forever," said Bill with forced humour and tipped the bottle up and swallowed its contents. Remus sighed deeply, and shaking the vial so that the liquid flashed and sparkled through his closed hand, downed the potion in one.
"Urk," and Remus's face reflected displeasure at the taste, "Gooseberries," he said, "I hate gooseberries."
"Really?" said Fred.
"Fascinating," said George, and Remus gave them both a filthy look.
They were all standing there in the cold waiting for the moon to rise, Hermione held on tight to Harry, partly for the warmth, but also in anticipation that tonight would see the fruition of something she herself had set in motion, and she desperately wanted it to succeed. The older Weasleys had their wands drawn and at the ready, they would cover the cages and seal the shed if anything went wrong, the thought of two unchained werewolves loose in the countryside around Ottery St. Catchpole was too frightening to consider.
The great silver disc appeared over the horizon and crept slowly upwards, shining its full round face into the open front of the shed and straight onto the cages secured inside.
Remus stared at his long hated nemesis and he began to sweat, the beads of perspiration standing out on his forehead. Bill sat calmly on his stool and looked the moon full in the face, he was relaxed almost as if he didn't care, but Harry knew that was far from the truth.
Remus cried out in pain and doubled over falling off his seat, he pulled himself up and the watchers looked on in horror as his features began to change. Hermione was distraught, she had seen this once before and hoped to never see it again, but there was no doubt that Remus was once again becoming a werewolf. She buried her eyes in Harry's coat not wanting to see the final transformation, then she realised that it had gone very quiet and that the gasps from the rest of the observers had fallen silent and that the animal sounds from inside the cage had ceased. Hermione took a cautious look, the others were crowding around the cages and she couldn't see clearly. Harry gave her an encouraging squeeze and the two moved closer. Bill sat as before, a serene smile on his features that were bathed in the full light of the moon. Fleur had her arm inside the cage and was holding his hand as if she never dared to let go and the smile on her face said it all.
Charlie and Ron stood aside to allow Harry and Hermione to get their first look at Remus. He stood there breathing heavily, his long hair covered arms moving as he explored his face with hands that ended in thin sharp claws, Harry felt Hermione shiver against him, and then the hands fell from a face that was certainly changed but his eyes still held intelligence and he was undoubtedly, recognisably, Remus. His back was bent and his chest had burst from his shirt, his top half was covered in hair and his arms reached down to his knees which were still dressed in the old tweed trousers he had been wearing earlier. In fact his whole lower half looked remarkably normal.
"Well this is awkward," said a voice that was almost like Remus' but sounded as if he was speaking through a mouthful of spit, and with what was dribbling profusely off his chin was probably what he was doing. "Any ideas boys?" he asked the twins.
"Err…" said one.
"No." said the other.
It was most odd, the sitting room was full again, and everyone was arranged around the partly changed form of Remus with Tonks sitting next to him on the sofa. Remus was trying with some difficulty to drink the cup of tea that Molly had made for them all and was not having much luck; Tonks conjured him a straw and after that he managed much better. Hermione was thinking very hard, the potion had worked for Bill, so why not for Remus, she tried to remember everything she had learned about this condition, but basically there should was no difference between the two men. Poor Remus she thought, a werewolf since the age of seven and now neither one thing nor the other, and then the penny dropped.
"Bill have you ever changed …properly I mean?"
The oldest of the Weasley's sons turned to her, "No Hermione not fully, I have taken Wolfsbane ever since my injury, I go wolf but that's it."
"Remus has taken it as well," said Tonks. "Ever since Severus first gave it to him, back in your third year. He hasn't transformed either for quite a while."
"Yes but…" Hermione persisted, and looked to Harry for encouragement.
"Go on Hermione," he smiled at her, "Not like you to be indecisive. All we have are guesses and ideas, and your guesses and ideas are better than most."
She sat up straight and looked the partly changed werewolf in the eye. "I think you changed because you expected to change," she said boldly. "You've been a werewolf for so long and other potions have only relieved some of the symptoms, you didn't expect this one to be any different but you cannot deny that it is. Bill has never changed fully and surprisingly he must have expected the twins to succeed, so the potion worked."
"She's right Remus," put in Bill, "I don't know why when I think about it, but I actually trusted my brothers to get it right and perhaps because I have only ever gone wolf it was easier for me to throw it all off."
"So it won't work fully for me then?" Remus sounded defeated.
"I think it will," said Hermione, "If you believe, it will. Each time you take it the effects of the potion should increase in strength and then you won't change either, but you have to believe it will help you."
Hermione was, as Harry certainly expected, proved to be correct. Remus and Bill took the potion every day for the next four days and with each dose the changes Remus had undergone that first night diminished. By the last night of the full moon he looked no different than normal, except that his finger nails were rather longer than usual, and that was easily dealt with.
The New Year began on a high note for those celebrating it in the Burrow, only later in the warmth and comfort of their own room did Harry let down his guard and confided in Hermione that beyond any doubt he knew that this was the year that would see the end of this conflict. All the pain and damage that Voldemort and his followers had wrought would come to an end, and if it didn't, then Harry knew that he would not live to celebrate another Christmas.
"We'll be fine," Hermione said and she really believed it, "I love you too much and you have too much to offer this world for Voldemort to win. It won't be easy, but you'll see my love, we will beat him in the end."
As Harry drifted off to sleep on the first morning of the New Year he decided that he had no choice but to believe it as well.
* * *
A dark haired man sat in a room not far from that of his master, he was worried, and that was a strange feeling for him. He had joined the forces of the Dark Lord many years ago as a youth only recently released from that hell hole jokingly called a school, how he had hated Hogwarts and everything it stood for, even now the hatred was still there. He had not wavered during the uncertain years when the Dark Lord had vanished, his contempt for ordinary witches and wizards and the muggles that surrounded them gave him confidence that the forces of dark magic would prevail, and that the path he had chosen would lead to greater and better things. Then Voldemort had returned and everything began to fall into place, he had become rich and powerful, at least to his own eyes, and the muggles and the wizarding world were on the run, but now it was all beginning to go slightly sour.
He was not of the closest of the Dark Lord's confidants but even he could discern that all was not well with the most powerful of wizards. On three separate occasions his master had demonstrated a loss of control that was unlike him. On the first occasion Lucius Malfoy was the unfortunate on the receiving end, that had been several years ago, but now twice in close succession the ranting and raving had returned, most recently in the last few days and those that had braved getting close enough to the Dark Lord could here him muttering one word over and over again. There, he could here him again; it always started low and built to a crescendo.
"Potter… Potter… POTTER!"
They all knew who he was referring to, Harry Potter, 'the chosen one', 'the boy who lived', and there were other more unflattering names that he was known by amongst the dark wizards, but there was something dreadfully personal in the way this boy was affecting the Master.
The man considered his own position, the Dark Lord was not the only one suffering because of Harry Potter's actions. The debacle at the Ministry which forced the Master to reveal himself to the wizarding world had cost him a brother incarcerated in Azkaban.
The loss of Mountfitchet Castle and the forces there was a considerable blow to the general plan against the muggles and the Ministry of Magic, and three members of his family dead, distant relatives to be sure, but family nevertheless. Then the disastrous raid on Hogsmead had resulted in him having a second brother in Azkaban and a nephew in St.Mungo's and on each occasion the reason behind the calamities had been Harry Potter. Something had to be done about the boy, and if the Dark Lord would not give the orders then he would take it on himself to do it. His only problem was that he did not know how.
The owl that left him the letter later that afternoon had departed hurriedly once it had deposited the parchment on the table in his room, not even bothering to wait for a reply or payment. The man regarded the parchment with suspicion, there was no one left to write to him but his name Malkanor Nott was boldly inscribed across the folded page.
He turned the letter in his hand and noted that the seal on the reverse was that of the wizarding hospital St.Mungo's, perhaps there was news of young Theo his nephew. The hand that had written the letter was the same as the one that had put his name on the outside, but here the letters were tight and conformed, written with great deliberation.
Dear Mr. Nott,
I am fortunate to be the healer assigned to your nephew Theodore and have the task of attempting treatment. Using methods which I will not go into here I have been able to retrieve certain memories, which considering your families background you may find useful. My work in treating cases such as Theodore's is of the most paramount importance, but my superiors do not agree and so they starve my research of funds. For a consideration I would be most happy to divulge these memories to you, unofficially of course. My office is on the fourth floor near the closed ward.
Sincerely
Artermetrius Bass.
Malkanor smiled, it amused him to think that even in the most prestigious circle of the healers, money talked and corruption was but hidden under the surface. He would visit this Artermetrius Bass and see just how far this corruption went, there was nothing going on here.
As Malkanor left the confines of Riddle Manor and apparated away to St.Mungo's, the Dark Lord, the wizard who wanted to rule the world, Voldemort or just plain Tom Riddle sat alone in his chambers, he was not in the best of moods. He knew the moment it had happened that another Horcrux was gone and the piece of soul with it, but he had no one to blame for its loss but himself, and he was far too conceited to do that. He knew it could only be Harry Potter that was vexing him so. He could feel this certainty in his blood …Harry's blood, and trouble him beyond reason that the boy was managing to circumnavigate the enchantments on the Horcruxes; one had caught Dumbledore so why not this barely trained youth. It never occurred to him that Harry was using old magic, and was merely tricking the Horcruxes, allowing them to open without the enchantments working. The loss of the locket, like the cup, was inconvenient but not catastrophic; the two most powerful Horcruxes were still safely hidden, even with one of those intact Voldemort's future was ensured and there was one which he knew Potter would never find.
Voldemort's diseased mind conjured a very gratifying future and played it out. The time would come when the boy would be here, right in front of him, on that very piece of floor that he was staring at now. He would be defeated, all his friends and allies gone, alone and on his knees, and then at the moment of his death he would see the folly of everything he had tried to accomplish. That he, Lord Voldemort the darkest of the dark wizards would arise fully in possession of all his powers and that it would be he, Harry Potter, who would make it all possible.
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