Harry Potter and the Vision of the Quadrangle

Harry Potter and the Vision of the Quadrangle

By FenrisWolf

Disclaimer -- All the usual apply. If it was mine, you’d be paying to read it!

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“Where One Falls, Two Shall Rise;

Only when Earth and Sky are United Beneath the Wings of Winter

Shall The Vision of the Quadrangle Destroy the Dark Lord.

Where One Falls, Two Shall Rise….”

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“How dare you! Crucio!” The red-robed minion writhed in agony as Voldemort vented his rage.

Lucius Malfoy wisely kept silent until his master’s latest tantrum passed. He hated to admit it, but Pettigrew’s suggestion that all supplicants wishing to become full Death Eaters undergo an initiation period seemed to be panning out. For some arcane reason calling them ‘Redshirts’ and making them wear crimson robes diverted the Dark Lord’s anger from his marked followers. Since then the losses of marked Death Eaters due to Voldemort’s direct action had fallen off sharply, since he now restricted himself to those who had actually failed him, rather than those who happened to be handy when he felt like killing something.

Noticing the red-garbed corpse being dragged out by two of his fellows brought Malfoy’s attention back to matters at hand. “I deeply regret being the bearer of such foul tidings, My Lord, but there is no doubt. No less than seven different students provided copies of the prophecy that the Lovegood girl delivered.”

“And the Boy?” Voldemort snarled. “Are there any reports as to how he reacted to the words?”

“Not as such,” Lucius admitted. “There was so much consternation as to their changed relationships that little attention was paid to anything else. It was fortunate that the trance struck her during Hogwarts’ Yule Ball, otherwise it might have been much longer before we were even made aware that the prophecy existed, let alone received such clear confirmation as to its contents.” There was a soft murmur of agreement from the other Death Eaters present as Voldemort relaxed into his throne.

“Ah, yes, teenage angst. It’s been so long I had almost forgotten how powerful a force it could be.” Though he would not admit it, Voldemort was quite pleased with how clearly he had predicted the outcome of the mating dance that had been swirling around Potter’s oblivious head for years. His minions might have been surprised when Potter returned for his seventh year with the mudblood on his arm, but not Voldemort. He’d seen enough of the confused emotions churning within his nemesis’ skull to comprehend where his affection truly lay. Indeed he’d collected quite a return on an number of anonymously placed wagers to that effect. True, the pairing of Lovegood with the Weasley boy had been a bit of a shock, but image notwithstanding, the Dark Lord knew he was not omniscient -- at least, not yet.

“Very well, much as it pains me to admit it, in this particular case you are correct. I presume there is no chance that this is a false prophecy?” his slit-pupiled gaze shifted to another of his followers.

The Death Eater in question stepped forward and groveled. “I am afraid not, my Lord. The number of Seers in the Lovegood girl’s maternal line is well documented, and as you know the Gift always descends through the matriarchal bloodline. Combined with that is the girl’s reputation within her house for strangeness bordering on insanity. We had already been watching in case her behavior was the result of a powerful Gift beginning to manifest, but unfortunately this was the first confirmation that she has ever entered a true Seer’s Trance. Otherwise we would have kidnapped her so that any prophecies she delivered would have remained in our hands alone.”

“That was careless of you. Avada Kedavera!” Another Redshirt collapsed and was dragged out.

“I am sorry, my Lord. I assure you that it will not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t or we will order you fitted for a set of red robes. Now get out.” As the sweating Death Eater scurried off Voldemort turned his attention back to his other minions. “Very well, Lucius, what are your plans for dealing with this turn of events?”

Malfoy inclined his head. “My Lord, we have analyzed the wording of the new prophecy and are in agreement as to one thing; whatever this ‘Vision of the Quadrangle” turns out to be, it only represents a threat to you from the Winter Solstice to the Spring Equinox.” He paused for a moment, considering his words, then continued, “There is even some belief that this combines favorably with the earlier prophecy, whose full contents we finally learned.”

Voldemort’s attitude perked up as he considered his follower’s statement. “Yessssss, I ssee what you mean,” he sibilated as he steepled his fingers. “If the Potter brat is the only one with the ability to slay me, and the only method that will work must be used during the months of winter….” he glanced at his ‘So You Want To Be An Evil Overlord’ calendar. The day’s date was brightly highlighted, the Winter Solstice only a couple of days off. “Mulciber!”

The called upon minion stepped forward. “My Lord, how may I serve you?”

“Suspend all upcoming operations until after the Spring Equinox! Disperse the Dementors, vacate the Vampires, and…and…well, do something with the rest. Tell their controllers to reassemble my army at the end of March!”

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“What! How dare you bring me such an absurd tale? Cru--, no Riddikulus!” He glared at the suddenly cavorting Death Eater, an evil grin forming as the news sank in. “Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus!” In short order all the Redshirts waiting in attendance on his pleasure were transformed into impromptu jesters, the laughter-inspiring jinx working its will on its targets. Given the caster, the jinx’s effort to produce merriment had a decidedly macabre flavor, but even the most dedicated Death Eater preferred humiliation over evisceration.

He turned back to the message bearer, the father of Crabbe. “Now, tell me again: what happened?”

“As you instructed, my lord, your messenger arrived during the evening feast. The eagle owl circled the Great Hall three times to make sure it had everyone’s attention before depositing your gage in front of the high table, along with your message. As soon as the bird dropped it the Howler detonated, delivering your challenge to Potter in front of the entire school. As you predicted, your comments about his mudblood mother and the Granger slut drove him into a rage, and before anyone could stop him he picked up your gauntlet.”

“Aha! So the enchantments did take effect?” The wards on the school prevented an owl or other messenger from delivering anything lethal to a student, but the barriers were far less selective when it came to simple jinxes and hexes that were considered to be far more annoying than lethal.

“Indeed, my Lord. Both the Confundus hex and the tripping jinx attached themselves solidly, resulting in a most satisfactory display of clumsiness on the part of the Potter brat. By the time McGonagall was able to remove the jinxes the impression was firmly made that your challenge had sent Potter into a panic. He even dragged Granger off her feet, much to the other students’ merriment. While it is by no means certain, it did seem to place a strain on their relationship. The mudblood does not easily suffer ridicule.”

“Hmmmm, ‘Where One Falls, Two Shall Rise’….it does seem to fit the words. I find myself pleased. Tell your son he has done well. As a reward, he will be allowed to take my Mark without the initiatory period in the Red.”

“Thank you, my Lord! You are as merciful as you are wise!” Crabbe replied while groveling in a truly impressive manner. Being allowed to avoid the Redshirts greatly increased his son’s chances of living long enough to continue the bloodline.

“Yes, I know. Be sure your son does not give me cause to regret it. Away with you all.”

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As spring approached Voldemort continued to make plans for the assault that would cement his dominance over the Wizarding world once and for all. Once the annoyance of Potter’s continued existence had been eliminated, no one would dare defy him.

Indeed, his challenge of the boy was proving to be an even more effective morale weapon than he had anticipated. Despite the rapidly approaching date of their confrontation, little seemed to be being prepared for his arrival. The school’s wards had not been strengthened, nor had the physical defenses. According to his spies the only major construction was a memorial walkway lining the path from the gates that marked the entrance though Hogwarts‘ outer wards to the great doors of Hogwarts itself. As a defensive structure it was pathetic, and even as a memorial it was barely adequate. The most thorough detection charms had been cast, but no magical traps, wards or devices were present. The memorial consisted of a low stone wall, barely more than three feet in height along most of its length. Its sole decorations were a series of bas relief sculptures placed every dozen feet or so, depicting great moments in the school’s history. They started with the almost mythical adventures of the Four Founders as they struggled to create Hogwarts, then followed with excerpts from the lives of some of the school’s more notable Headmasters, ending of course with what the cynics all knew was the real purpose of the wall, a tribute to the life and accomplishments of Albus Dumbledore. Well, those would go soon enough. Once his rule was established the wall would come down and be replaced with proper statues raised in honor of Voldemort’s glory.

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Spring Equinox came and went, and Voldemort decided his forces were ready. The Ministry was proving as malleable and ineffectual under Scrimgrour as it had been under Fudge. It was slightly more annoying bribing several lesser officials as opposed to a single one at the top, but the amount of obstructionism, inefficiency and collusion remained the same, leaving Potter and his pathetic allies to their own devices. In a desperate attempt to continue ‘Life as normal’ in the face of his threat the Headmistress had authorized a Hogsmeade weekend. That, the Dark Lord decided, would be the perfect time for his assault.

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The smoke and screams from Hogsmeade faded into the background. The defenders of Hogwarts were gathered in the courtyard before the Great Doors, while the forty-foot lane within the boundary of the Memorial Wall teemed with Death Eaters and their allies, with Voldemort at their head. Papery lips peeled back from sharp teeth, slit nostrils flared and red irises glowed as the Dark Lord demanded, “Bring out Harry Potter! Let your great hero face me once and for all! We will settle this where all can see who is the greater wizard!”

The crowd parted and Harry Potter stepped forth with Hermione Granger at his side. Both their robes were the worse for wear from the earlier fighting, and Harry’s arm was wrapped protectively around Hermione’s waist. “I’m here, Tom! You’re right, it’s time to end things. Your twisted ideas and the even more twisted people who follow you have to go! People want to raise their families without the fear that some nutcase is going to come after them because they didn’t have the right ancestors. The Muggles learned the hard way how wrong that is, time the wizarding world did too!”

“Brave words, boy!” Voldemort cackled. “Words I’ve heard before, but I am still here! I will always be here, and my followers as well! No Vision, be it Circle, Triangle or Quadrangle, is going to change that!” Voldemort paused dramatically, but before he could continue his tirade he was distracted. He had expected a great many possible reactions from his enemy, from this annoying child who kept thwarting him, but he hadn’t expected him to be--grinning?”

“Funny you should say that, Tom!” Harry called out. “I’m not too crazy about prophecies and visions either, not after the way the last one mucked up my life, but I have to admit, this one tickled my fancy!”

“You know what it means?” Voldemort demanded. “Tell me!”

“Before I do, you have to acknowledge that a Muggleborn witch can be as brilliant as any with so-called ‘Pure’ blood,” Harry declared as his bushy-haired companion blushed. All of us were stumped, it was Hermione who solved the puzzle!”

“Very well, anything to get on with this!” Voldemort sneered. “I will admit that a Mudblood can excel at books and cleverness -- but that is all! It takes Pure Blood to reach the real heights of the Wizarding world! Now, tell me the meaning of the prophecy!”

“Better yet, let me show you!” Harry replied. A yellow, brick-shaped object left the younger wizard’s hand in an underhanded toss. The wards surrounding Voldemort that would have detected and deflected magical attack allowed the slow-moving object to pass. The brick bounced a couple of times before coming to rest at the Dark Lord’s feet. There were bold, black markings on the brick, but before he could puzzle out their meaning Harry spoke again. “Oh, and with apologies to the American wizard, Al Pacino, ‘Say ‘hello’ to my little friends!’”

Tom Marvolo Riddle looked up in time to see Harry James Potter make a twisting motion with an object in his hands, and had a brief instant, before the world dissolved in noise and flame, to wonder just what “C-4” meant.

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Rufus Scrimgrour stared in horror at the abattoir that was all that was left of Voldemort’s forces. The Memorial Wall was in ruins as well, but it had served its purpose in channeling and containing the blast. An even hundred ‘memorial plaques’ had done their job, each one hiding an inch-thick steel plate which in turn was coated with an inch of plastic explosive, followed by a layer of ½” steel ball bearings. Something over half a million of the things had sheeted back and forth across a space less than 50 feet wide. It might be possible to parse out just how many beings had comprised the Dark Lord’s forces, but only by studying the pensieve memories of the witnesses. The puree that covered the road would never surrender its secrets.

“Where is Potter?” the minister finally demanded. “Do you have him detained somewhere?”

“And why would I do that?” Headmistress McGonagall asked in a pleasant tone, albeit a bit louder than normal due to the persistent ringing in her ears. “Mr. Potter has done nothing wrong.”

Nothing wrong? Nothing wrong? Are you mad, woman? Just look!” he gestured behind himself, no longer able to face the carnage.

“I will remind you to keep a civil tone when addressing me, Minister,” McGonagall replied repressively, “Out of respect for the office I hold if not in courtesy to me. As for Mr. Potter, he and his friends acted in defense of the school and its residents, in full keeping with his duties as a student and as Head Boy. Following the defeat of Lord Voldemort and his forces, he and Miss Granger left on an extended sabbatical, both having informed me long ago that that was their intention should we prove victorious, as they felt they could not count on our world respecting their privacy, an attitude I was most ashamed I had to endorse.”

Minerva waited patiently for the burly politician to finish fussing, and smiled as he finally left. Tidying up her desk she came across one of the original copies of Miss Lovegood’s prophecy and chuckled at some of Miss Granger’s notes that were scrawled across the page in scarlet ink. McGonagall was well aware of her protégé’s opinion of Divination as a valid subject of study; indeed it was an opinion she herself shared, but in this case prejudices had been set aside as the Smartest Witch of her Age bent her not inconsiderable intellect to the task of solving the riddles that might spell life or death for her beloved.

“Where One Falls, Two Shall Rise;

Only when Earth and Sky are United Beneath the Wings of Winter

Shall The Vision of the Quadrangle Destroy the Dark Lord.

Where One Falls, Two Shall Rise….”

It never ceased to amaze the headmistress how the most prosaic of actions could become pivotal moments of prophecy. Hermione Granger had been walking out by the lake, seeking out its peace and quiet as she focused her attention on unraveling the prophecy. Unfortunately the autopilot that enabled her to navigate the slightly uneven turf beneath the trees near the lake did not allow her to avoid tripping over the legs of a fellow student. Luna Lovegood was lying on her back under one of the great Oaks, according to her for the purpose of engaging in a starting contest with Harry’s owl, Hedwig. Hermione’s falling body was enough to knock the wind out of the Ravenclaw girl, but not enough, at least according to her, to cost her the contest. “Hedwig was quite upset,” she later remarked, “but fair is fair. Being able to maintain a stare in the face of outside distractions is all part of the game.”

Whatever her reasons, Hedwig had flown off in a huff as the Pureblooded Ravenclaw helped the Muggleborn Gryffindor to her feet, thereby setting the prophecy in motion. It took some convincing, but finally Hermione accepted that, looked at a certain way, her encounter with Luna did fit the bill. Two had risen where one fell beneath the wings of winter, or more precisely, a ‘snowy’ owl, and their worst critic would not deny Hermione’s elementally earthy logic or Luna’s airy intuition. To make the pattern complete, it was Luna’s repeated suggestions that they ‘think outside the box’ that allowed Hermione to make the cognitive leap from ‘Vision of the Quadrangle’ to a far more prosaic ‘C-4’.

Surprisingly it was Ron who provided the next link in the chain. Their brief stay at Privet Drive and a somewhat longer one with Hermione’s parents allowed the pureblood wizard to discover Muggle movies, specifically war movies with all their pyrotechnics. His offhand comment that it was a shame they couldn’t just drop a ton of bombs on Tom Riddle got Harry to thinking, and between the four of them they created the plan that was finally executed before the gates of Hogwarts.

Minerva smiled as she glanced through a leather folio before securing it in a locked and warded drawer. She would wait a few months before officially filing the paperwork on the weddings she had performed in her office. Time enough for the Boy Who Lived and his chosen companions to well and truly vanish from the Wizarding world if they chose to do so. Standing at the window and gazing out over the grounds that were slowly being restore to their pre-Apocalyptic beauty, she whispered, “Enjoy your lives, Mr. and Mrs. Potter; you’ve earned it!”

Fin

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Just a bit of silliness that chewed on my ankle and wouldn’t let go.

For those of you who have been kind enough to continue to ask after “Intervention Part II”, I *am* still working on it, but it’s slow going and I refuse to start posting it only to bog down again. When I have enough of it finished that I feel confident I can complete it I’ll start posting it, but not before. In the meantime I’m bracing myself for book seven’s release and keeping my fingers crossed that JKR learned something from the mess she made of book six!