A/N: There's been a lot of speculation concerning Luna's necklace as of the last couple of chapters. More about its power will be revealed later on in this story, like within the next couple chapters.
Sideships won't get near the airtime that Harry/Hermione have gotten, save for one (or two, depending on how you look at it). As such, don't be surprised when the relationships do a complete 180 here in this chapter (at least there's been a small amount of hints and foreshadowing).
Chapter 28: Enigma
The self-decorated throne room of Lord Voldemort was more alive than it had been in some time with the latest gathering of the dark lord's inner sanctum. The latest success of an Azkaban prison break courtesy of Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange saw Antonin Dolohov, Rudolphus and Rabastian Lestrange returned to the fold of the Death Eaters. Joined together with Snape and Pettigrew, the small grouping was currently mingling about, awaiting orders from their master.
"What is this I hear of him being ill," Rudolphus finally said loud enough for everyone to hear. "I've known the Dark Lord for well over 20 years, and I can never remember him once coming down with something as pathetic as a common chill. Nor does a common chill require such an intricate potion to treat, such as the one that Severus had to brew for him."
"What are you suggesting, husband?" Bellatrix asked, more than a tinge of anger mixed in with her voice.
"I am suggesting that for us, whom have been so loyal to the dark lord, to be lied to in this fashion is insulting." Rabastian nodded his head in agreement.
"It is not your place to say these things Rudolphus," Fenrir said, stepping forward, "You are not the second-in-command."
"And where has he been?" Rabastian chimed in, stepping in front of his brother. "Caliban has yet to grace us with his presence. For the better part of the last two days he's been holed up in his quarters, meditating on something or other!"
"If you ask me," Rudolphus said in a chuckling manner, "I'd say killing the Malfoy whelp has caused Caliban some pain. I think he was too attached to the boy." Rudolphus and Rabastian both laughed, only to be shot back by two successive stunners. They both slowly got to their feet and stared at where the spells had come from, seeing Caliban emerge from a darkened room at the back end of the throne room. He looked much more tired than he normally did, as if he'd been at a long and arduous process, but his blue eyes flickered violently in the firelight, becoming violet at times before turning back to their natural color.
"Reports of my…"going soft"…are greatly exaggerated, Rudolphus," he clearly stated, assuming his position next to the vacant throne of Voldemort. "And you would do well to remember your place. Loyalty is rewarded…remember that."
"Of course Caliban," Rudolphus replied with feigned courtesy as he helped his brother to his feet. "Where is our Lord and Master?"
"He is recuperating from his illness," Caliban calmly stated, "And as such he has sent me to deliver your latest instructions." The Lestrange brothers looked at each other, causing Caliban to arch an eyebrow. "Is there something you two wanted to say to me?"
"Far be it for us to question the almighty Caliban," Rudolphus said in a chiding tone, "But don't you find it the least bit convenient that when our enemy reappears stronger than ever is exactly when He becomes ill?" Caliban said nothing merely glaring at Rudolphus. "Exactly what I thought." Rudolphus smirked a bit, before feeling a choking sensation in his throat. Slowly he began to gasp for air, falling to his knees as the gathered Death Eaters looked around for the cause. Bellatrix fell to her husband's side and turned to Caliban, a pleading look in her eyes as Rudolphus began to turn a rather impressive shade of blue.
"That's enough!" she screeched, staring straight at Caliban. Caliban regarded her for a moment, before blinking. Rudolphus began to cough and gasp for air as the hold was broken on him, and he struggled to his feet, supported by his wife and brother.
"Remember your place Rudolphus. The Dark Lord is not as merciful as I am." Rudolphus continued to glare at Caliban, but nodded his head in understanding. "I have instructions for all of you concerning the latest movements that need to be made. We need to bolster our forces so we can strike soon. From what Severus has told us, there has been a split between Potter and Dumbledore. This is a rift we can exploit. With the light forces divided and the Ministry still mired in petty political squabbles, the time to strike is now."
"We would be stronger if you're apprentice had not bungled his appearance at the Wizengamot!" Dolohov shouted from behind everyone else. Caliban glared at him, effectively shutting him up.
"Draco has been sufficiently punished for his failures, I have seen to that." He changed the subject back to the servants standing in front of him, gesturing to the Lestrange clan. "You three go to the giants and make certain that they are still on our side. After that, consult with the merfolk in the Black Lake. We must ensure that they are on our side, or at the very least neutral when we launch our assault on the castle." He turned his gaze towards Fenrir, "You return to your pack Fenrir, and solidify their support. I do not want to hear anymore of this traitor Lupin turning them from our ranks. Dolohov," he reached into his robes and tossed a roll of parchment at the elder wizard. "I want you to bring me the wizards and witches on that list. The Dark Lord requires them. This is a task of the utmost importance." Dolohov nodded and pocketed the list. "As for you, Severus, continue with your surveillance of the Order and report back on anything of significance. You are all dismissed." The lot of them turned and walked towards their various assignments. Out of the corner of his eye Caliban noticed Pettigrew slinking away. "Not you Wormtail." Peter stopped and turned towards Caliban, shaking a bit with fear. "I need you to come with me."
The two of them traveled out of the throne room, walking to the back out of sight and sound of everyone else in the inner sanctum. When they were in another room, Caliban waved his hand, forcing the door to close shut. Caliban calmly walked over to a small table and poured himself a glass of brandy. "You know Wormtail," he said with his eyes closed, his back turned to Pettigrew, "I never did properly thank you for bringing our Master back in the way in which you did." Caliban slowly opened, his eyes, and in one fell swoop dropped the glass and spun around, pinning Wormtail to the wall with his hand forcefully gripping his throat. "Did you have any idea the consequences of that ritual should the link between them ever be broken?!" Pettigrew tried to answer, but Caliban merely threw him to the ground, sending him sprawling to the opposite wall. "Because of you he is dying!" he screamed, causing Pettigrew to stare at him blankly.
"He…he's dying!?" he said with a questioned voice. Caliban simply nodded his head and returned to another glass of brandy.
"Slowly, yes. More specifically his magic is leaving him. Bit by bit, day by day, it is leaving him. The potions he takes help, but much like simple patches to the cracks of a dam, they are only a temporary solution." Caliban took a sip of brandy and continued. "Soon all the reenergizing potions, nourishment potions…even Severus' panacea potion will be unable to stop the ebb of magic from him. And once his magic is gone, it will only be a short time before the black enchantments that have disfigured him in an attempt to gain more power backfire on him. Think of it as a fire, using his magic as its fuel source. Once the fuel is gone, the fire turns to another source…his own body."
"I-I had no idea," Peter said in a soft voice as the full weight of this information hit him. "Why haven't you told everyone?"
"You saw what the mere hint of weakness did to them. Even the most loyal of his servants are beginning to doubt him." Peter nodded, before his next question came out.
"Why are you telling me, then?"
"Because should anything happen to me, you are the only one skilled enough with the ancient ways to perform a new ritual. This is what I have sent Dolohov to accomplish; I need individuals who know of an ancient ritual which will permanently transfer Voldemort's soul to a new host body."
Peter's eyes went wide as he slowly connected the dots. "Potter?" he questioned, and Caliban merely nodded.
"Since Potter revealed himself as heir to five houses, it is likely my father will be able to deduce where he is hiding out. Once enough time has passed, I will merely extract the information from him."
/ - / - / - /
16 months into training
"I still like the name Potter's army."
Harry groaned for the third time at the dinner table, rolling his eyes once more while Hermione just silently chuckled to herself. The group was currently eating after another hard day of work, Harry and Hermione at the head of the table, Luna and Ron at the other end, and the other three situated around the sides. Ron shook his head and stared at Luna, who had her usual blank stare on her face.
"Luna dear, I love you to pieces, but sometimes you can just be mental." Ron took a sip of butterbeer before continuing, "Potter's army sounds like a bunch of militant herbologists…no offense Neville."
"None taken," Neville said with a cheery grin on his face. His gaze moved slightly towards Ginny, then back to his plate. Harry noticed the lingering moment, but said nothing.
"Why do we even need a name," Colin suggested, ripping into his steak. He continued chewing, and slowly rubbed his temples as he swallowed.
"Everything alright," Ginny asked, concern in her voice. Colin nodded, taking a deep breath.
"It's just these headaches I get sometimes. Nothing too major though, they'll pass. I'll take some headache potion after dinner."
"Did you always used to get them," Ginny asked again, and Colin shook his head.
"No, it started a few months ago, about the same time we were starting occulumency training. I guess the strain on my mind takes its toll." Hermione nodded her, head, setting her fork down.
"It's relatively common to develop headaches when learning occulumency at such a young age, unless you're a natural occulumens like Ron & Ginny are." She paused as she seemed to remember something. "When Harry first taught me I had these horrible migraines, so it's nothing unusual." Colin nodded his head, though he seemed to have something more he wanted to say. Excusing himself from the table, he went to take a potion and lie down for a while.
As he slowly walked up the stairs, Ginny looked at him from afar. He was still having a hard time remembering some things from before his parents were attacked. And though he wouldn't admit it, it was still bothering him. She took the time to finish her dinner, and silently, avoiding the notice of her brother, walked towards Colin's room. She hesitantly knocked on the door a few times, hearing no reply from the other side. Silently she checked the door handle and, finding it unlocked, slowly opened the door.
Colin seemed to gather himself quickly, wiping away his eyes and staring at Ginny wide-eyed. "Did you need something?" he asked, trying to look busy as he could. Ginny carefully walked into the room, a reserved look on her face, suddenly somewhat nervous at this
"Is your headache any better?" she asked. Colin nodded, offering a half-hearted smile.
"Yeah, it is." After she didn't leave, Colin sighed and motioned with his hand, the door closing behind Ginny. "Would you like to sit down?" he offered, motioning towards a rolling desk chair. Ginny nodded and took a seat in front of him, as he sat down on the bed, folding his hands in his lap.
"What's wrong Colin," Ginny finally asked, causing him to shudder with a measured breath. "Is this about your parents?" Colin slowly shook his head, and began to tell his tale.
It was several hours before he had finished telling her about the strange dreams of memories he couldn't quite grasp. About how some things he could remember with crystal clarity, while others were mere phantoms on the horizon of his mind. Though he had confessed some of this in the past, Ginny had no idea that he was so troubled by it. Slowly she made her way over towards the bed, wrapping her arms around him as he held his head, partly in shame, and partly in fear.
"Sometimes I seem to lose myself," he quietly said, "As if I don't really belong here." He paused a moment, before looking at Ginny, "I'm scared Gin. I'm scared that this anger I keep feeling inside of me is going to consume me." Colin looked back down momentarily, before Ginny forced his head upward, her eyes drilling straight into his.
"Listen to me closely Colin. You are not a bad person." Colin started to shake his head but Ginny kept him from doing so. "No, you are not a bad person at all. You are one of the kindest people I have ever met. What happened to you was a tragedy, but it's happened to all of us. We've all felt some kind of loss in this war. All of us have lost one or both of our parents and whether or not it's separated by the distance of time, we all still feel that loss." She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before continuing. "But we can draw on each other as our strength. You aren't in this alone, you have friends. I…we, care about you Colin." Colin seemed to catch the slip-up, as he stared at her with a bit of wide-eyed surprise, shaken out of his stupor.
"I thought that…I mean you said that…" Ginny smiled softly and placed a hand on his lips, effectively silencing him.
"Maybe it just took some time, maybe it just took some growing up. Who knows…but know that I do care about you…deeply." Colin licked his lips when Ginny pulled away, and a brief moment passed between the two. Slowly, hesitantly at first, the two of them moved closer, kissing each other tentatively. They quickly became more impassioned, their bodies giving into the heat of the moment. It was a night neither one would soon forget.
/ - / - / - /
"You want me to what!?"
Arthur Weasley sat dumbstruck as he looked at his son, who had just suggested that he run for Minister for Magic. He had barely been on speaking terms with his son that morning, and now he found himself sharing a political discussion with him in the middle of a conveniently empty Leaky Cauldron, where the most unlikely of subjects had come up.
"I have it on good authority that you could win," Percy said once more, not really skirting the truth of the matter. He absentmindedly sipped at his tea, leaving his father at a loss for words once more, before he added, "You have to admit one thing at least, that Fudge is doomed as Minister."
Arthur seemed to shake out of stupor at this remark. He glanced around to make certain no one was in earshot, before he leaned in closer to his son and answered. "Yes, I'd agree to that. But you shouldn't be saying such things. You're in an even more precarious position than I am as far as your job is concerned." Percy smiled at him.
"Always looking out for me aren't you." There was a moment of shame that crossed over his face, but was quickly replaced with a reassuring smile, "I have other opportunities should the need arise, so don't worry about my future." He paused for a moment, rethinking his strategy, "Think of it this way: wouldn't it be a lot easier for Harry and everyone fighting You-Know-Who if the Ministry supported them? I mean its one thing for the Minister to openly acknowledge that You-Know-Who's back from the dead, but it's another thing entirely for him to actually do anything about it."
"You have a point there," Arthur replied, nodding his head, "To be honest I'm surprised he hasn't been sacked yet the way he's been dragging his feet. It's almost as if he's waiting for a cue to act or something."
"Exactly," Percy exclaimed, softly banging his fist on the table. "Despite all his bluster, Fudge has always taken his cues from Professor Dumbledore, and from what you tell me that may not necessarily be a good thing." He paused a moment, deep in thought about whether or not he should go with his next line of thought, before finally deciding to pose a hypothetical. "What if Professor Dumbledore doesn't want this war to end?"
"I find it hard to believe that he'd be capable of letting that much suffering go on. The man is human after all."
"Yes, he is, but so is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Being human doesn't necessarily guarantee a conscience. I know you haven't told me about everything he's done in manipulating us or Harry." Arthur nodded his head, no intention of giving that information out to someone who he wasn't speaking with just three hours prior. "So if he's capable of that, who knows what he's capable of.
"The Ministry needs someone who isn't so dependant on Dumbledore. They need someone who is there own man. Now from what I can see, there's no one who could win an election that fits that description except for you. The brass ring is there for the taking, all you need to do is actually take it." Arthur sat for several minutes, thinking things over. Truthfully he wouldn't mind being Minister one day, though he figured that was a kind of dream that a lot of people would have. He could finally make a real difference in the world if he did…still; the pressure might be too much.
"Why are you asking me to do this all of a sudden," Arthur finally asked, changing the subject. Percy seemed a bit caught off guard from the question, but reset his stance firmly.
"It's what I think is best," he said in a sort of half-truth. "The only way we'll ever be able to win this war is to break free of the influence of people like Dumbledore and Fudge. And…" he paused a moment for dramatic effect, "It's the only way we can prevent this from happening again. This is the third dark lord we've had this century, all of them about 20 years apart and each one worse than the last. Something has to change before we destroy ourselves…and as much as I have said to the contrary in the past…Potter is probably the best catalyst for change that we've ever had. His past allows him to be sympathetic to the human condition, something that other people don't have a clue about. We have to help him anyway we can." As he said the words out loud in a rudimentary fashion, they seemed to bounce back and absorb themselves into Percy's psyche, almost as if he was convincing himself that this was truly the right course of action.
Arthur sighed, taking a last sip of his butter beer. "I guess all I can say is that I'll think about it son. I might ask Harry first, see what he thinks. I'll also want to consult with Ron and the rest of you children. I won't do it if the family needs me." Percy smiled, nodding his head.
"That's all I can ask for," he replied, giving a smile that was for the first time that day, 100% genuine."
A.N: We're coming up into the home stretch of the first leg of the trilogy. Next chapter, Harry and his friends emerge from the time warp…Dumbledore's search for Harry's home goes awry…and Caliban springs his trap.