Chapter 12
"Read this."
Harry picked up the book Sirius had just tossed in his lap. Reading the cover, he saw that it was Transfiguration Mastery. Furrowing his brow, Harry looked to his godfather for an explanation.
"The way you told it, you and Hermione had a haphazard self-taught curriculum after your OWLS, right?" When Harry nodded, Sirius told him, "That book is the most comprehensive NEWT level and beyond Transfiguration book that's for sale. I talked with Minerva about your course of study. She recommended it for you and Hermione to take your skills to the next level."
"Er, thanks," Harry replied. "But why?"
"I've watched you and Longtooth on our raids. You guys are very charm heavy in your spellcasting. Do you know why Remus, Minerva and Dora survived the Macnair house raid? Cause Minerva is a freakin' genius with Transfiguration, that's why. Moony told me that she had that bloody house attacking the Death Eaters all the while she was creating defences around the three of them. You two have power to spare, so the magical drain caused by massive repeated Transfiguration shouldn't be a problem."
Pointing to the book, he added, "I'd be a poor godfather indeed if I didn't tell you that you and your wife need to take your spellcasting up a notch. "
Screwing up his face in consideration, Harry pondered the problem. The only time that he or Hermione had been wounded since coming to the past was when a vampire had hit Harry with a sneak attack. They'd been very successful in their efforts. At the same time, they hadn't faced any capable opponents either or in large numbers of opposition. Flipping through the book, he saw a series of topics that might as well have been written in Russian, as he'd no idea what the book was saying.
Standing, Harry nodded to his godfather, "We'll get on this today. Thanks."
"I gave Hermione a copy, too. If you need any help, give a shout. I'm not too bad at Transfiguration."
"Right. Thanks again."
.oOo.
They were in the library studying after dinner when it happened.
Harry groaned before he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. With controlled desperation, Hermione fearfully asked, "Harry, what is it?" Having seen him suffer far too many times from his connection to Voldemort, she recognized and dreaded what was most likely happening.
Without warning, Harry loosed a scream of fury. He stood, his body taut and tense. Jumping from her chair, she ran around the table they were using. He was pummelling his fists on the table in rage as a scene unfolded in his mind. Tears ran down his face as blood seeped from his scar.
"Oh, God," Hermione murmured as she approached him.
Suddenly, he collapsed. Crumpling to a ball on the floor, he panted in pain, falling unconscious.
"SIRIUS!" Hermione screamed.
.oOo.
"Should we call Andromeda?" Alice asked.
They were in the master suite watching Harry who'd been unconscious for the last three hours. Hermione was under the covers with her husband, curled up at his side. Sirius, Remus, Alice and Steven sat in chairs waiting for The Boy-Who-Lived to awaken.
When Hermione didn't respond to her mother's question, Sirius demurred, "We could, but from what Hermione says, he'll be alright shortly."
"But he never passed out before, the visions always just hurt him. One time he was sick during fifth year because of a vision, but he never passed out," Hermione observed. Her tone was detached, as if she wasn't involved. This scared the others more than Harry's fit.
Tentatively, Alice slid on to the bed next to her daughter. The silk sheets rustled a bit but neither Hermione nor Harry flinched. Gently Alice placed her hand on Hermione's unresponsive shoulder. "Sweetie, he'll be alright."
"And you know this how, mother?"
Taken aback at the quiet vehemence in her daughter's tone, Alice was quiet for a long moment. "He will," she reaffirmed.
Ignoring her mother, Hermione gathered Harry deeper into her embrace. Five very long minutes later, she told the rest of her family. "I've got a hint of what Harry went through when I died. I don't want to go on if he won't wake up. Nothing else matters."
Steven and Alice exchanged a worried glance as Remus rose from his chair. He recognized the situation for what it was. Taken by itself, this 'issue' with Harry falling unconscious wouldn't have bothered Hermione so badly. However, with the ever looming threat of Voldemort combined with the fact that this was the first vision Harry'd had in this timeline, Remus admitted to himself that Hermione's panic must be at near crippling level. Squatting down on his haunches, he placed himself in Hermione's sightline. Unsure as to whether she was seeing him at all or looking through him, he asked her, "Do you trust me Longtooth?"
Her response was adrift on the breeze, "Yes."
"Trust me that he'll be well in time."
Minerva entered the room. Seeing the positions of the others, she quietly conjured a chair. Taking a seat, she and the others continued their vigil. It was to be a long night.
.oOo.
Hermione's gaze alternated like a metronome. For two seconds she would watch the unconscious face of her husband. The next two seconds she'd watch the clock. Face. Clock. Face. His breathing was as regular as a man asleep. Is he merely sleeping or unconscious? Shaking her head to clear the distracting thoughts, she refocused on her man.
It was four twenty two in the morning when Harry woke.
"Fuck…" he muttered.
A small tear of relief escaped the corner of her left eye. Softly, she told him, "Language, my love."
A fleeting smile flitted across his face before melting. "Sorry," he whispered.
"Are you alright?"
Without opening his eyes, he reached for her. Pulling her to his chest, he told her, "We'll talk in the morning. Things like what happened have more power in the dark. Just love me."
So she did. Holding him to her, she loved him with all her might.
"If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. Mountains crumble to the sea; there would still be you and me…"
She recognized his words as the lyrics to a song, but the name escaped her. The swelling of her heart threatened to overtake her senses. Gratitude, love, affection…all these focused on the man in whose arms she rested. Without him, all was ashes in her mouth. Without him, the sun was dark on the brightest of days while the chill froze the marrow of her bones on a summer's day.
"I love you, Harry James."
"As I love you, Hermione Jane."
.oOo.
Breakfast in bed was a necessity this morning, not a luxury. While alert, Harry was still weak from the powerful vision the day before. One by one, the Family drifted into the master suite. When Sirius pulled up a chair to the table Minerva had conjured, Harry had to smile despite what had happened. Sirius' hair was standing straight out from the left side of his head. His hair combined with the dopey expression, Padfoot was the epitome of the 'lazy lord' come to table.
Amongst the clink and clatter of a large family breakfast, Harry watched his Clan. They weren't kinfolk, but they were his Family. When Hermione shoved a bowl of porridge under his nose followed by a mug of tea, he succumbed to her will. Shovelling a large spoonful of the oaten goodness in his mouth, he thanked the Divine for his Family.
Eventually, everyone had fed. Minerva took a fortifying sip of tea before asking, "What happened, Harry?"
Deciding to rip the bandage off, Harry told them, "Voldemort is in a homunculus form. Last night Snape and two other wizards performed the ritual."
Minerva closed her eyes in dread. Sirius dropped his head into his hands while Remus slumped into his chair, despair creeping over the surviving Marauders like a cloak. Dora soundlessly shook her head, trying to negate the tide of news. Alice and Steven sat in stunned silence. Alastor was quiet, trying to digest the news, but failing.
Only Hermione was strong. Squeezing Harry's hand, she let him know that she was there for him. "What does that mean for the situation, son?" Steven asked in a low, even tone.
"It's the first step for him towards his resurrection."
Finding comfort in procedure, Mad-Eye spoke up, his tone professional and brisk, "Tell us what happened. No detail is too slight."
Closing his eyes, The Boy-Who-Lived swallowed thickly. "They had set up in a clearing in a pine forest. There were stars, but I couldn't make out any constellations in the sky. I could see no landmarks to identify where they were. A huge bonfire was roaring off to the side, but it seemed to be for heat and light more than anything. They had a baby boy…he couldn't have been more than a year old. He was cute." Gesturing to the top of his head, Harry absently remarked, "Had a little shock of red hair on his head….He was in a ritual circle when they forced a series of potions down his throat."
Alice and Remus began to silently weep.
"He screamed in his little voice," Harry continued in a detached tone. Winces bounced about the room. "I could feel Voldemort's excitement. It wasn't just anticipation for this first step to his restoration, he was excited by the magic. It was nearly sexual for him."
"Dear God…" Minerva sighed, disgusted beyond belief.
"After five potions, they levitated a woman - the baby's mother if her hair colour, weeping and wailing was any indication - they levitated her overtop the boy. The shade of Voldemort slid into place between the boy and his mother just as they slit her throat with a stone knife. As her blood splashed over the baby, Riddle's shade merged into the baby.
"Snape then gutted the woman. As the balance of the blood and gore in her body splashed over her son, the baby's screams were horrible. He began to change to a humanoid thing that was vaguely reptilian with black and dark red scales. By the time she died, the transformation was complete. The last thing I remember is his inhuman glare at the world."
The silence was heavy and thick about the room. Dora was noticeably controlling her gag reflex before she bolted from the room to be sick. Even Alastor was grimacing. Finally, the old Auror asked, "What potions did they use?"
Absently shaking his head, Harry replied, "Don't know. The vials were all opaque."
Before Alastor could ask further, Harry added, "The other two wizards, or at least I assume they were wizards based on their height, were cloaked and hooded. I never saw their faces."
More silence.
"What do we do?" a newly washed Dora asked.
"We kill his scaly arse," Harry declared. His face, set and grim, he met the eye of each person in the room. In their own way, each was a warrior for their Crusade. Instead of battling to Jerusalem, this Crusade was fighting on the ramparts of the Tower of London.
"Agreed," replied Minerva dryly, "But for more practical and immediate purposes, what do we do?"
The support that shone from Alice's wet face bolstered Harry's spirits more than he knew. He hadn't told them of Voldemort's exultation in the success of the ritual. The Dark Lord's thoughts were unclear, Harry's Occlumency worked against him in that matter, but the attitude were clear: malevolence. Whatever thoughts were running through the Dark Lord's mind, they weren't very kind.
"I'll inform Amelia," Alastor quietly announced. "I'll just tell her I can't reveal the source. She trusts me."
"What can she do?" Hermione whispered.
"Quite a bit, actually. So long as that pompous sack of shit Fudge doesn't get in the way. Or his blood purist lackey bint, Umbridge."
With real venom, Harry asked, "Is she a Death Eater?"
Shrugging, Alastor hedged, "I don't think so."
"Check her arm the next time you see her," Hermione directed. "That creepy eye of yours should be put to some good use," she finished with a smile.
"We need a plan," Harry announced. "We need a plan to pull Voldemort out so we can chop off his fucking head. It'll all be over then." Glancing to Alastor, he asked, "Did you pass the other information to Amelia?"
"Yeah. She damn near wet her knickers when she started to read it. Four days from now she's planning on a massive sweep up."
The information gleaned from their captured Death Eater had been extensive. Apparently, Walden Macnair had liked to brag in front of his Death Eaters. Alan Tigue had been a treasure trove of Death Eater meeting places, supply depots and member identities.
"Alastor," Minerva began. "Where is Snape? You've been leading the task force trying to find him."
"We still have no idea where that fucker Snape is, but now they'll be coming home soon."
When Alice furrowed her brow, Sirius answered the unspoken question for the old Auror. In an undertone of one who has accepted the inevitable pain and death to follow, Sirius told the room, "Voldemort wants to kill us all. He and Snape will be here soon enough."
.oOo.
Harry sat in Cynnes Gardd, enjoying the magically warm weather while a heavy rainstorm pelted the surrounding landscape with cold rain and sleet. He was confused, conflicted, scared and angry.
Confusion was simple to identify. He had no fucking clue what Voldemort was up to and there were no paths immediately presenting themselves so that he could investigate or uncover the truth. "God, I wish I had a 'Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card' for this one," he groused under his breath.
Deciding he could do nothing but be patient and trust Mad-Eye's plan of co-opting the DMLE to do the legwork for them, Harry ruthlessly shoved his confusion aside. Resolving to deal with the situation as the facts became clearer, he moved on to his internal conflict.
Ever since Harry had awakened from his unwanted vision, a disturbing idea had been rattling around in his brainpan. None of the Family was students of Tom Riddle A.K.A. Lord Voldemort. They couldn't put themselves in his shoes in an attempt to project his behaviours, thoughts or intentions. The foremost person in the world who could claim to truly know T.M. Riddle was a man that none of them trusted. He was a man of immense magical strength and true genius who also had a will of steel to match his capabilities.
Harry was conflicted because he wanted to bring Albus Dumbledore into his confidences.
Not about the time travel, nor their clandestine activities as the Fiendfyre Vigilantes; no that level of disclosure, that course of action, would be unwise. The vision of Voldemort gaining an homunculus form, their beliefs that the wizard was very close to regaining human form was urging Harry to consult with the ancient wizard. 'The only one that the Dark Lord ever feared' was a mighty title indeed, yet Voldemort hadn't feared Dumbledore only for his magical and martial might. He had feared his old Transfiguration professor for his mind as well.
"Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!" he sang in a sarcastic voice. Running his hands through his extraordinarily unruly hair, The Boy-Who-Lived cast about for the metaphorical path to trod.
"Language, dearest."
Smiling affectionately, Harry slowly turned to see his wife standing behind him, her hands on her hips with a mock scowl on her face. The scowl shortly melted to an affectionate smile as she slid into place next to him. Soundly kissing him, she asked, "What's the bother?"
After a frustrated sigh, he told her, "I have this recurring, nagging and very unwelcome hunch that we should bring Dumbledore into the whole 'Voldemort is coming back' thing."
Curling her left arm about his right, she leaned on him as she chewed her lip and thought. Recognizing the symptoms of very deep cogitation and consideration from his wife, Harry let her be while he moved on to his fear.
The assault on the Macnair house wards had left Hermione magically drained. Their plan had accounted for that occurrence, so she was exposed for less than four seconds before the portkey had whisked her home. His intellectual understanding of her safety had allowed Harry to function in the melee that followed. However, her unknown status afterwards had nearly driven him mad.
His fear of losing her again was mounting.
He knew that they were both placing their lives at risk every time they geared up for a raid. He, also, knew that she was a more than competent warrior who could pummel to dust over ninety five percent of Voldemort's minions. He knew these things, yet his terror of losing her had only grown since returning to the past. Returning to her. It was the only reason he came back. Sure, saving the world was a good and noble cause, but he was back to save the one that he loved. He was back to save her.
Losing her again would destroy him utterly.
This led to his anger. It was summed up in one word: Voldemort. The stupid prick just wouldn't stay dead. He'd lost back in '81, yet he wouldn't give up. Snorting in derision, Harry could somewhat empathise with his nemesis. Harry had lost it all in the late '00s, but he came back because he wouldn't give up.
Fuck you, Tom, Harry snarled to himself.
"I don't like it," Hermione opined.
Shaking his head to pick up the thread, he realized she was probably talking about bringing Dumbledore into the problem. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because he'll try to take over instead of being an expert advisor."
"Yet, he's the only true Voldemort expert that's out there. We don't have time to do all the research necessary to come up to speed," he countered.
"He would endanger everything we've worked, fought and bled to accomplish. His arrogant holier than thou attitude would be so counterproductive as to completely overshadow any contributions he might be able to make," she declared with an arrow shot to the heart that would have made Artemis proud. "I thought you hated him?" Hermione challenged.
"Hate is a very strong word," Harry sighed. "I dislike his machinations very strongly, but I don't hate him." After a long pause, he regarded his wife, "And you?"
"Me what?" she countered.
Her evasive ploy was obvious even to Harry, "Do you hate Albus?"
There was barely a heartbeat before she spat, "He hurt you. Systematically, deliberately and thoroughly hurt you. What would you do or feel about someone who did that to me?"
Harry stiffened in a momentarily silent rage. The magic pouring off him suspended the wards that kept Cynnes Gardd warm and dry, allowing a few raindrops to wet their hair. Closing his eyes, he regained control of himself causing the artificial good weather to return.
"I'd kill them all, which, I guess, is answer enough." After a brief consideration, he asked, "Deliberately? You believe Dumbledore maliciously set out to have me hurt by the Dursleys and later Voldemort?"
Her scowl crumpled into a mask of confusion. "I don't know about deliberately," she admitted in a low tone. "But it was either deliberate, or he's the most oblivious, arrogant, unfeeling bastard to ever lift a wand."
Slowly, he reached over to her, covering her hand with his own. "He can't hurt me anymore. No one can hurt me like that ever again."
Sighing, she absently nodded.
Without words, they intertwined their bodies; curling up on the bench. "I don't have a very objective perspective on Albus," he admitted.
"Me either," she agreed.
They exchanged a humorous look. "Talk to Moony?" they both asked simultaneously before laughing. Standing, Harry scooped his wife to her feet before bracing himself to leave the pleasant Cynnes Gardd.
.oOo.
Remus stroked his chin as he leaned back in his chair. The Potters had found the erstwhile academic in the library surrounded by a pile of books. Remus was dressed in an old tweed jacket, tan trousers and a white button down shirt. The only thing that was missing from his 'professor ensemble' was a pipe stuffed full of Captain Black.
"Distancing him from us would be best. If we could hold him at bay, he can't interfere with our activities. In the end, though, I believe you're right. Albus is the most knowledgeable person about Voldemort of whom I'm aware. It would be…awkward…for you to directly talk to Albus." Remus began to pace as he thought aloud.
Harry snorted at the obviousness of the statement. Hermione absently smacked him on the shoulder before asking, "What about Minerva?"
"Hmm, that's an interesting idea. Sirius is out, as am I. Dora is a non-entity as far as Albus is concerned. In fact, her addressing Albus would cause more problems than we hope to solve. He'd want to know how she got involved and it would degrade from there."
Tapping his fingers on the back of his chair as he leaned on it, Remus thought through the options. He met Hermione's eye before he prompted the time traveling witch, "You do realize there will be repercussions if Minerva were to discuss this with Albus."
"Her status as a trusted part of our Family would be known to the old man," Hermione replied without missing a beat.
"Alastor?" Harry mused. Before the other two could reply, he dismissed the idea, "He'd be a bigger cipher than Dora. Dumbledore would be rabid to find out how his old friend became involved with us. At least Minerva has a pre-existing connexion to us."
"We'll need to ask her if she's alright with this. It's her life that he would make miserable," Hermione observed.
The conversation dwindled into gossip from there. Harry began teasing Remus about his intentions for Dora.
"So when are you going to make my cousin an honest woman, Remus?"
"Not you too," Remus muttered as he stood. "I'm off to get a snack. You'll contact Minerva?" he asked.
Hermione nodded as she leaned on Harry, who watched Moony leave. The Boy-Who-Lived in turn leaned back on the leather couch, allowing the couple to lounge a bit.
Things had been moving so fast lately, that Harry's head had been metaphorically spinning. He pulled Hermione closer as he sighed. "I've no idea what to do. I remember the plan: free Sirius, kill Voldemort, tell the rest to bugger off. It's just the how that's bollixed up right now."
She was twirling a lock of his hair absently when she told him, "Whenever I get lost, I remember the beginning."
Smiling, Harry teased, "I assume you're being smart now." Completely distracted from his earlier point, he squeezed her tightly.
With a serious expression, she sat up, straddling his lap. Gently grasping his cheeks, she looked deep in his eyes, "You are my Alpha and Omega. When things are confusing, desperate or difficult, I always return to you. Your little sojourn into the land of Nod reminded me that I can no longer be fully 'me' without you."
"As there is no me without you," he choked out.
Nodding, she gently kissed her man. Laying her forehead on his, she shut her eyes as she affirmed herself. "I love you. I want you. I am you as you are me. You're my best friend, my love and my lover. I never want to be parted from you or part from you in turn." Pulling back a bit so they could focus on each other, she finished, "I love you."
A flick of his wrist allowed Harry to lock the door and Silence the room. Slowly, tenderly and deliberately he made love to his wife in the deepening shadows of a late winter day. With heart, mind and body they renewed their vows of love.
.oOo.
Fortunately, the following weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend, so Minerva had a valid excuse for a lunchtime rendezvous with the Glamoured Potters. No one blinked when the Deputy Head sat down to lunch with a middle-aged couple.
"How are you, Minerva?" Harry asked.
Cocking an eyebrow, the severe looking professor glared at the male member of her party before snapping open her menu, "I'm annoyed. You?"
"Oh, I'm grand," Harry replied absently. When the waiter had taken their order and departed, Hermione surreptitiously raised a Privacy ward.
"Now what?" Minerva muttered when she saw Hermione finish the hastily raised ward.
"Joking aside, what's bothering you?" Harry pressed.
Sipping her tea, Minerva sighed through her nose. "I become more intolerant of Albus and his ways as the days go by. I have to bite my tongue or leave the room before I lash out at him. I've already had two shouting matches with him this year, which is two more than I've had in all the years before."
Sagging into her seat, she whispered, "I may end up leaving Hogwarts. This is driving me mad."
Frowning, Hermione reached across the table, taking Minerva's hand in her own. "What is so intolerable?"
"It's the duplicity, the…the lies!" she hissed acidly. "He has a few faces; the doddering eccentric grandfather and the powerful light wizard are the two most prominent. Both hide what he did to you," she nodded to Harry. "What he did to so many. Sirius suffered so much but Albus could have done right by him with a few offhand remarks. A dozen years in Azkaban because Albus chose…" she trailed off in disgusted disillusionment.
"To do what was easy as opposed to what was right," Harry finished for her.
"Yes."
They were all quiet as they contemplated Minerva's revelation. Finally, she broke the silence, "This is the first time I've said it aloud, so I've no idea what I'm to do, but I needed to say it."
The waiter brought their food and drink. Harry paid the man before he left. A hefty tip ensured the man would give them their privacy.
There was no talk as the group dug into their meals. The Golden Cauldron was an excellent restaurant that catered to the adult wizarding world. On rare occasions, seventh year students might come in on a date, but usually the prices and atmosphere kept the students away.
Sporadic small talk popped up and wilted away through the meal; school gossip was a big topic. Apparently, the Slytherins had come to heel with the removal of their protective head of house combined with the 'disappearance' of many of the most vocal blood purists in society. In a backwards way, their activities as the Fiendfyre Vigilantes were already paying dividends.
As they sipped their after meal tea, Harry began, "Minerva, we've a problem. With Voldemort on the march, we're at a loss regarding planning. Talking with Remus and Sirius, as well as, Steven and Alice, we all agree that we need to consult with Albus about the problem."
A cocked eyebrow was the Transfiguration Mistress' only reply.
"Let's be a little clearer," Hermione interjected. "We all reluctantly agree that we ought to consult with Albus."
"That's more believable," Minerva muttered. After another fortifying sip of her tea, she asked, "I assume that you would like me to be your intermediary?"
Hermione took the lead. "Only if you're willing. It will reveal to Albus that your role in Harry's life is much more than just a former school time head of house. He may make your life more difficult."
Waving away The Smartest Witch of the Age, Minerva declared, "He has to be aware of that already. My own behaviour has been out of the ordinary this year and it all revolves around you," she admitted with a small nod to Harry.
"Thank you," Harry told her in an undertone.
With real emotion in her eyes, Minerva reached across the table, taking the Potters' hands in her own. "As I told you in September, I could do no less for my own children."
.oOo.
"That was bloody brilliant!" Steven exclaimed as he and Sirius Apparated into the entry hall. Harry and Remus arrived a second later.
"Who's the best Quidditch team in Britain?" Sirius asked. His tone was light with the undercurrents of an expected answer.
"Puddlemere United, sahib," Harry joked.
In the drawing room, Hermione caught her mother's attention so she could have an audience as she rolled her eyes. The men had been at the Puddlemere vs. Tutshill match for the last twelve hours.
As the gabble of voices moved toward the drawing room, Hermione set her book aside and steeled herself to at least one hour of nonstop Quidditch talk.
"Jones was totally blatching!"
"Bugger off, he was not!"
"You're both out!"
Deciding that silence was the best course of action for her at this time, Hermione grabbed her book to begin reading again.
"Hey love!" an exuberant Harry shouted when he came in the room. Bouncing over to her, he placed a smacking kiss on her before flopping on the couch. "Whatcha reading?"
Rolling her eyes, she showed him the cover of Transfiguration Mastery.
"Is it any good?"
"Actually, it's fantastic."
"Huh. I'm too wound up to read. Want to go for a walk?"
Glancing at the clock, she drolly countered, "Harry, it's ten in the evening."
Wagging his eyebrows, he teased, "We won't walk far."
Giving him a playful shove, she stood. "Goodnight, Harry."
From the entry hall a loud crack of Apparition sounded.
All conversation ceased as the witches and wizards drew their wands. As a unit, they turned to face the door. Harry and Hermione silently slid in front of Alice and Steven.
Clacketty-clack sounded the shoes of the person striding down the marble hall. The person was walking at a fast pace if the staccato tattoo of the heels was any indication.
Minerva McGonagall rounded into the drawing room, her face pale with anger. Dismissing the drawn wands of the Family, she headed for the wet bar in the corner of the room.
"We keep this up, we'll turn Minerva into a drunk," Sirius quipped.
As he settled on the settee, Remus poured tea for everyone before he asked, "Did your discussion with Albus go poorly?"
"Actually, it went far better than I expected," she replied through gritted teeth.
Frowning, Harry asked, "Then why…" he trailed off as he gestured to the glass of whisky in his mother figure's hand.
"Because I'm sick and bloody tired of his sanctimonious condescension."
"Ah."
The room was quiet for a full minute as the rest of the family settled down, all thoughts of the Quidditch match forgotten.
"I met with him earlier tonight, after dinner. After explaining the substance of your dream, he first asked me why I was delivering the news."
Sirius rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's machinations before he snorted in annoyance.
"Yes, quite," Minerva acknowledged before continuing. "I told him that Harry didn't trust him and as such, had asked me to approach him with the news. He nodded, a sad expression on his face. It was as if he'd done nothing wrong and was put upon."
She clenched her jaw as she shut her eyes in an attempt to rein in her emotions. Most people thought that Minerva McGonagall was an emotionless person. The truth was that she was one of the most passionate persons most would ever meet. She loved, cared and hated with a fiery exuberance that could be overwhelming. Her usually impassive mien had been cultivated by endless self-discipline. For it to be slipping was shocking to those who had known her for years.
"He asked a series of questions. For some I had answers, others I did not." Withdrawing a small parchment from her pocket, she tossed it on the coffee table in front of Harry. "When you have time, would you see if you could answer any of his questions?"
Harry nodded before Minerva finished. "He didn't insist, but he very much desires you to come to the school. He'd like to examine your memory in his pensieve to see if he can pick up any details you missed." She scowled again, "He, very reluctantly, acknowledged that Severus could have accomplished the ritual you described."
"Astounding,' Sirius commented dryly.
There was a watchful silence as Harry leaned back on the sofa. Absently pulling Hermione to him, he pondered the situation. "To go or not to go. That is the question," he mused aloud.
Remus cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention and derailing the conversation. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about Albus in the past few months. I admit that I don't have an unbiased opinion of the man as he's helped me in ways that no one in wizarding Britain ever had or could."
Everyone nodded, acknowledging that the old wizard had given Remus an incredible gift by allowing him to attend Hogwarts despite his Lycanthropy.
Staring into his cup of tea, Remus told them, "Albus has made innumerable mistakes. Deadly mistakes. I am fairly certain that Benjy Fenwick and the Prewitt brothers are dead because of mistakes by Albus. Sirius' imprisonment and Harry's incarceration with the Dursley's are actions for which he is also responsible. I don't want to debate whether he intentionally set you two up to be hurt or not. I don't think we'll ever know for sure, but the point remains that Albus is culpable.
"I also don't think he's been malicious. I don't believe that he's set out to hurt a person; that's much more in line with Voldemort than Albus. Given Albus' position and the importance that we give him, his mistakes are magnified to the point where he shatters lives when he makes a mistake that would merely require an apology when the rest of us make a similar mistake."
"Hold on," Sirius interrupted hotly. "What the bloody hell do you mean, we give him importance"
Shrugging, Remus explained, "Look, he's the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." Turning to Steven, he asked, "Who is the current Head of your secondary school and who's the Leader of the House of Commons?"
Taken aback, Steven thought for a minute before sheepishly replying, "I've no idea on either counts."
"That's my point," Remus explained. "Albus is a hero for what he did in the Grindlewald conflict and in the first Blood War with Voldemort. But in the end, he's only the Head teacher with an important role in government. True, he's inserted himself in situations which are none of his business," he indicated to Harry with a wave of his hand. "He had no business interfering with Harry's guardianship."
With a sigh, Hermione summed up, "He's an old man who's done great things and we look to him to not only continue to save the world, but to solve all our problems."
The quiet was so complete, Harry heard the waves crashing on the beach.
"He's not the devil. He's not responsible for all our ills either."
Stunned, the rest of the party looked at Sirius, who'd just spoken.
"What? Just because I joke a lot doesn't mean I'm stupid."
"But, he put you in Azkaban…" Harry began, but stopped at his godfather's head shake.
"No, Midnight. Barty Crouch put me in Azkaban without a trial. Albus' mistake," he nodded toward Remus, "Was to not make a fuss about it in the paper. No one else did, though, either. Not Bagnold. Not Fudge. Not Remus. Not Minerva. Not anyone."
The others flinched, but Sirius went on, "I've come to the point where I have to forgive any and all for that or I'll go mad. I'm past it." Turning to Harry, the former Prisoner of Azkaban declared, "But for what Albus did to you, I don't forgive."
"Wait, are you implying that we've been using Dumbledore as a scapegoat for what's wrong?" Alice asked with a hint of disbelief in her tone.
In a calm, almost disinterested tone, Remus rejoined, "To an extent, yes."
He let the thought sink in before adding, "I do believe that Albus has made some rather enormous and even monstrous errors in judgement. Benjy, the Prewitts, Harry and Sirius are just the tip of the iceberg. Hiding the Philosopher's stone in the school, while knowing that Voldemort was pursuing it during the first year of The Boy-Who-Lived is borderline insane. If I'd known about the Chamber of Secrets situation where students were being petrified and he insisted upon keeping the school open, I believe I would have camped out in Albus' office the night of a full moon. Be that as it may…"
The group snickered at the visual of Remus in a pup tent changing to Moony amidst the devices, books and portraits of the Head's office at Hogwarts.
"The point is that I don't believe Albus to be evil. He's extremely human but some of the impact of his mistakes falls in our own lap. At the same time, his arrogance and reluctance to confide in others, much less heed their advice or input is a large defect in his own character."
Chiming in, Hermione observed, "In the end, Voldemort is responsible for much of the evil we face. Many contributed to the fall of Tom Riddle, but in the end, Tom Marvolo Riddle made his choices and fell into darkness of his own accord. Any and all acts perpetrated by Voldemort and the Death Eaters are the responsibility of those people."
Nodding, Remus agreed, "Yes."
With a hard expression, Hermione zeroed in on Remus, "So, too, is Albus. He put Harry with the Dursley's despite Minerva's protests. He made many choices where he hurt people. Great responsibility is within his grasp, he knows this and yet he repeatedly failed. Allowing Snape full reign to terrorize the school, hiding the Stone in the castle, letting the students stay at school despite the Chamber, Sirius's imprisonment, the corruption in the Wizengamot, Fudge's excesses…the list goes on for quite a while. Albus has failed far more than he's succeeded."
Nodding again, Remus concurred, "It's not an easy matter. The situation is hardly black and white by any means. The pain he's visited upon others is significant."
Standing, Harry announced, "I need a run. I've got to think about all this." Turning to the Scot, he told her, "Thank you for talking to him. I appreciate it."
The noticeably subdued woman nodded her head, acknowledging his thanks.
Turning to his wife, Harry asked, "You want to come with?"
Standing, she silently changed to Longtooth before padding to the front door, the black jaguar on her heels. Dobby appeared just in time to open the door to the night, allowing the great predators to run.
When the youngest members of the Family had left, Sirius asked all in the room a speculative question, "I wonder if we get so mad at Albus for what he's done, for what we've done or a bit of both?"
.oOo.
They sat in their hot springs, naked, silent and overwhelmed. Hermione was directly across from her husband, watching him as he lay back against the marble sides they'd conjured weeks ago. Harry had his eyes closed as he tried to meditate on the issue at hand.
"It's not about whether Albus is the big bad," she'd counselled her husband. "The question at hand is whether or not to approach him for advice and insight."
"Yeah. All things considered, though, I'd rather tell him to fong off." Sighing he slid around to Hermione's side of the springs. Pulling her into his lap, he nuzzled her damp hair. She mischievously wiggled in his lap, causing him to smile. As his hands wandered, he asked, "What do you think?"
"I think that I'm aghast that you want to talk about a one hundred and fifty year old wizard while your naked, wet wife is wiggling on your lap."
His smile blossomed to laughter. After languidly kissing her, he sighed, "You're right. Thinking is overrated." Cocking his head to one side, he asked, "Are you trying to distract me with your wet, naked body?"
"Is it working?"
"Yes."
"Well, then. Yes I am."
.oOo.
Mad-Eye tromped down the hall of Rowan Hill scowling at all and sundry. So intimidating was his glare, most of the portraits fled from him. As he stalked into the Master's study, Harry called out, "Hello, Alastor. Why are you stomping about like a four year old?"
"What the bloody hell did you do to Albus?"
Looking up from the monthly accounts of the estate, Harry frowned. "I just made an appointment to see him."
Rolling his good eye, the old Auror barked, "I know that you moron. I mean, what else did you do?"
Ignoring the insult, Harry replied, "Nothing."
"Then why is he almost literally breaking down my door to have me investigate you?"
"'Cause he's a controlling, manipulative git?"
Mad-Eye wasn't amused.
"Fuck if I know," Harry admitted. When Alastor continued to glare, Harry raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "I really don't know!"
Hermione spoke up from the couch where she was reading, "Alastor, you know how Albus can't handle not knowing what's going on. He's completely in receive mode here and he must hate it. He's just trying to find out what the what is." Turning the page of her book, her disinterest in the topic made clear the amount of energy she was willing to expend on the topic of Albus Dumbledore and his foibles.
Grunting, Mad-Eye pulled out his flask, knocking back a slug.
Feeling bold, Harry asked, "You know, I've always wondered what you have in that flask."
"Keep wondering. It's good for your complexion."
Rolling his eyes, Harry pressed, "Come on, Alastor. Is it whiskey?"
"Fuck you."
"Alastor, language," Hermione reproved without looking up from her book while reading on the couch.
The old man surreptitiously flipped Hermione the bird. Meanwhile, Harry had slipped out of his seat before slinking over to the distracted Auror. Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten the first rule of Mad-Eye. Never, ever, sneak up on the most paranoid man in the Northern Hemisphere.
When Harry leaned in to sniff at the open flask, he startled the old man. Whirling about, Mad-Eye began hurling hexes and curses in random directions. The fireplace became a duck, the desk burst into flame, the doors to the study began singing a version of My Favourite Things from The Sound of Music, while the andirons in the other fireplace became mice, which immediately perished from the flames.
"Mad-Eye, you stupid bastard! Stop it!" Harry had dived to the side, rolling behind a bookcase.
Growling, the old man stalked from the room in the general direction of the kitchens.
"He's mad…" Harry groaned as he stood. After a small pause, he muttered, "Of course he is. It's Alastor."
Hermione hadn't moved during the entire exchange. While Harry was flopping about the room, she'd calmly drawn her wand, cast the Advanced Shield Spell and waited for Mad-Eye's fit to pass. Since she already had wand out, Hermione casually began reversing Mad-Eye's spells. She cancelled everything except the singing door. It had finished My Favourite Things and had moved into a rousing rendition of The Lonely Goatherd. Raising his eyebrows, Harry turned to his wife.
Shrugging, she picked up her book, "It's doing a good job and I've always loved The Sound of Music."
"At least it isn't dancing," Harry muttered as he moved back to his desk.
After resettling, she asked, "So?"
"So what?"
"What was in the flask?"
"I dunno. It wasn't alcohol, that's for sure. I recognize the scent but can't place it. It makes me think of Uncle Vernon's mother."
Hermione silently furrowed her brows in a silent query.
Nodding, he answered, "Yeah, she's as unpleasant as he was. She had this bowel problem which made her cranky…" The stunned expression of realization on The Boy-Who-Lived quickly dissolved into raucous laughter.
His howls of amusement caused his wife to shift from querying to annoyed. Between laughs, he squeaked out, "Prune juice. He's drinking prune juice…"
Hermione's giggles complemented Harry's mirth for the next ten minutes.
.oOo.
She watched him from the path. It was after dinner when he'd excused himself to head out of doors. His expression told her all she needed to know to figure out his destination. She'd followed him the first time he'd gone. Something told her that he'd need her, so she followed.
The same hunch prodded her again this evening. Padding along as Longtooth, she followed her husband as he wound through the trees. When he opened the creaking iron gate, she slowed. Shifting back to her human form, she watched him kneel at the foot of his parents' graves.
"Hi mum, dad." He picked up a few scattered leaves from overtop James' and Lily's graves before sitting on his haunches. "I'm going to see Dumbledore tomorrow and I'm not too sure about how to feel."
Grabbing a stick, he began to peel the bark off as he mused. "I mean, a big part of me wants to punch him on the nose. He put me there and could have easily arranged for a trial for Sirius. That's enough to put him in the 'unthinking bastard' column. At the same time, I really think we'll need him if we're going to stop Voldemort."
Rubbing the now bare stick between his palms, he was silent for a bit. "Sirius and Remus are great. So too are Alice and Steven, but I really wish you were here. I need some advice from my parents."
A great heaving sigh from Harry pulled Hermione forward. Sliding through the open gate, she moved to his side. She gently placed her small hand on his shoulder before sitting next to him. Extending her arm, she wrapped it around her husband, pulling him close.
"I love you, Hermione."
"And I you."
Turning to her, his eyes were alight with love and devotion. "I'm going to give you the life you deserve. We're going to live here for the next seventy years, raising our children, hosting the Family and just loving each other. I'll buy you every book in the country, expanding the library to fit them all. I'll feed you bon bons when you're pregnant with our children and run with you and the kids as we play in the garden. I'll love you forever."
She knew he was promising the future that his parents had been unable to realize. Promising all that James and Lily had been denied because of a psychopathic lunatic with a delusion of grandeur.
A single tear fell from her eye as she raised her hand to his cheek, "I'm so very lucky to have you, Harry."
"No, we're lucky to have each other."
Nodding, she leaned in kiss to her man ever so gently.
"Come on, you need your rest. We've a big day tomorrow."
.oOo.
The fireplace in Minerva McGonagall's quarters flared green before disgorging four people. Remus, Sirius and Hermione stood, brushing the ash and soot from Harry. As usual, Harry had tumbled out of the fireplace with a distinct lack of grace. Floo travel seemed to be the antithesis of his agility on a broom.
When they were all clean, the five members of the Family headed to the Headmaster's office.
Minerva's face was its usual impassive mien of professional detachment. Only those closest to her would have been able to notice the hints of distress and worry she bore for the upcoming meeting. Remus' observations the other day about Albus had shaken her. From the extreme of being an Albus Dumbledore supplicant to hating him, she'd experienced severe emotional whiplash in the last few months. Now she was coming to a middle ground where she disliked the man and didn't trust him, but didn't hate him as she had.
Sirius wore a mask of jocularity as he rattled off stories of the Marauders exploits for Harry's amusement. Remus was silent at Padfoot's side, occasionally offering a brief smile in remembrance of one of his old friend's anecdotes. Both Marauders were concerned that the upcoming meeting would hurt Harry. As he'd already demonstrated, Albus had the authority and influence that allowed him to disturb Harry's life most severely. Neither man had any concern for themselves, only the son of Prongs.
Hermione stood tall next to her man. She held his hand as they strode through the empty halls of the school. They'd timed their arrival so that classes were being conducted and the bulk of the students in the classrooms. After their emotional moment in the family graveyard the evening before, Hermione had been tempted to beg Harry to run away with her. Tahiti, the Seychelles, Bora Bora, Alaska, Tasmania, anywhere they could hide from Voldemort to leave all the mess behind.
Her Gryffindor pride and spirit rebelled, though. Even though her fear shrieked in her ears that they should flee, neither Hermione nor Harry would run. They'd run once when the world had been savaged. Never again.
The evening before, she had fallen asleep in the arms of the man she loved. Even though he wasn't quite fourteen, Harry was more a man than any other male she'd met. The forthcoming meeting really held no apprehension for her. Deep in herself she knew that Harry could handle anything so long as he had his family. The meeting was a stepping-stone to the final solution of the problem that was personified in the person who had named himself Lord Voldemort. She trusted Harry, herself and their Family; they would prevail.
Harry was slightly apprehensive, but not fearful. The time for debate and consideration was past. The time for action was present and Harry Potter excelled at action like no other.
They stopped in front of the guardian statue of the Headmaster's doorway. Without rehearsal, they all met the other's gaze, reaffirming their commitment to each other, to their purpose.
"Acid Pops."
.oOo.
"Ah, welcome everyone," the aged Headmaster greeted the group with a smile as he rose from behind his desk. It was times like this when Harry had a split second of doubt. How could he ever think that this genial old man could be so duplicitous or conniving? Unbidden, the nightmare of Hermione's sightless eyes as he held her corpse rose before his vision. He could feel the remembered rain on his face as the memory of the seeping cold from the mud in the ditch chilled his legs.
Blinking away the recollection, Harry admitted to himself that he knew quite well why he needed to be on his guard. There was far too much at stake to fail.
"Professor," Hermione replied to the man's greeting. Steeling himself, Harry concentrated on staying in the present. Dumbledore was a wily man who would take advantage of any opening offered. He'd do his best to avoid offering any fissures in his behaviour.
The group moved to the sitting area in the oversized office. An elf popped in with a tea service and snacks before silently withdrawing. The practiced host, Dumbledore poured for everyone while keeping up a light chatter about current events.
As they all settled into their seats, Harry decided to seize control of the situation by speaking first. "Professor, as Professor McGonagall has related to you, I had a happening of the most disturbing kind recently."
Beetling his brows, Dumbledore replaced his cup on the saucer before replying, "Yes, she did. Would you mind relating the substance of the dream?"
Suppressing a shudder of horror, Harry demurred, "Actually Professor, I'd like to forget that it ever happened. I would much prefer to offer you a memory of the…scene that you can watch in your pensieve."
Dumbledore didn't move for a long moment before he asked, "How did you know I have a pensieve, Harry?"
With the hint of a glare, Harry snapped, "Professor McGonagall mentioned it to me when she related the discussion the two of you had. Would you like the memory or not, sir?" He was outwardly passive, but inwardly seething. Why is he chasing this goddam hare when we're talking about the resurrection of Voldemort?
"Yes, of course. Let me fetch it." The old man stood before striding to the cabinet on the interior wall of his office. Returning with the large stone bowl, Albus placed it on the low table around which they were seated.
"You just need to take your wand…" Dumbledore began before tailing off as Harry had already withdrawn the memory from his temple.
Dropping the silvery substance in the bowl, The Boy-Who-Lived mentioned, "I read a book on pensieves; very interesting devices."
"Would any of you care to accompany me?" Dumbledore offered before immersing himself in the memory.
Silently, the rest of the Family nodded. As one, they all reached for the shimmering memory, dipping their index finger into the fluid. Harry watched them all flow into the bowl, but declined to look into the bowl itself. He didn't want to see the poor mother slaughtered again, nor the little boy who was tortured as his body was consumed and transformed. The mere thought of watching it again made him ill.
He closed his eyes in an attempt to meditate for a bit, hoping to regain his emotional equilibrium. Breathing deeply, he reached out with his senses while releasing the tension, anger, fear and aggression that clouded his mind. Off to his right, he felt a soothing presence that could only be one thing.
Opening his eyes, he smiled at Fawkes who was watching him. "'Lo Fawkes. Hope you're well," Harry greeted in an undertone. A soft trill was the only reply from the immortal creature of light. His spirits unaccountably lifted, Harry resumed his meditation.
Ten minutes later, he heard his companions begin to stir. Opening his eyes, he saw that they were all pale. Sirius held his head in his hands while Remus was struggling to control his breathing. Hermione had soundless tears tracking down her face while Minerva had a hand clamped over her mouth as if to force down the overwhelming emotion.
Turning to the Vanquisher of Grindlewald, Harry was shocked at his appearance. He'd never seen Albus Dumbledore appear so old. His expression haggard, the Headmaster was staring blindly out the window.
Gently breaking the silence with hopes of getting the meeting on track, Harry mentioned, "It's rather unpleasant."
"It was disgusting and an abomination. True evil walks again. They should all be executed." The minor Earl of Richmond was stunned that Dumbledore made such a vicious condemnation with such heat.
"No second chances for old Severus?" Sirius sardonically observed.
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment where he seemed to fold in on himself. Softly, the old man answered, "No. No second chances. He's beyond human redemption."
The group was silent as they all digested the old man's pronouncement. Finally, Dumbledore sighed, "I shall grieve later. For now, we have a problem."
Remus snorted at the understatement. "Yes, quite. None of us are experts in Necromancy, so we hoped that you would either be aware of the process that he's trying to use for his resurrection or knew of someone with the expertise."
Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore stroked his beard while deep in thought. Finally, he admitted, "I am unaware of the process Tom is using for his resurrection, though I admit that I only have a passing acquaintance with Necromancy. I know of a few people who are better versed. I shall contact them for their opinion."
Internally rolling her eyes at the old man's dissimulation, Hermione asked, "And who would those persons be, sir?"
When Dumbledore hesitated, Sirius pounced. "Albus, let's get something straight. You're not in charge here. You'll be up front and honest with us or this is the last time we see each other. That division will probably allow Voldemort to win in the end. We all know the prophecy," all eyes swivelled to the impassive Harry, "So get over yourself; you can't win. Only Harry can. You need us far more than we need you."
The Family had talked beforehand where Sirius had insisted upon being the antagonist to the Headmaster for the Family. "After the New Year's party at the Longbottom's, he's well aware that I don't think too highly of him. No need to tip our hand any further."
Harry later told Hermione that he thought old Padfoot was secretly looking forward to yelling at the old wizard. It looked like Sirius was getting his wish.
"You are at the top of a list of very exclusive people, Albus,' Sirius coldly told the quiescent old man. "You are near the top of people I hate with a red hot passion." Dumbledore's face reflected shock before he reassumed his impassive expression. "Don't fuck with us or you'll regret it."
Harry internally flinched at Sirius' threat. Dumbledore had stared down Voldemort, Grindlewald and probably much more. A threat from Sirius Black had to be nearly laughable in that context. Harry was surprised that the Headmaster didn't either chuckle or yawn in response to Sirius' threats.
"I'm very sorry that you feel that way toward me, Sirius. If we could, later we might meet so that you could air your grievances against me."
"Returning to the point at hand," Minerva interrupted. "Harry has related the substance of this vision to Amelia Bones at the DMLE but neither she nor we have the insight into Tom Riddle that you do, Albus. We'd like your estimation of his purpose and next moves."
Snorting to himself, Albus countered, "His purpose is restoration to a physical body, Minerva and world domination from there. But you already know that…" he steepled his fingers as he ordered his thoughts.
"He'll want to establish a safe place where he and his immediate supporters can reside. He's vulnerable in this form. Tom Riddle despises all weakness, so I expect him to attempt to accelerate the next stage or stages required for his restoration to a body." Tapping his long forefinger on the side of his crooked nose, Albus mused, "Where? Where would he go? Britain? Abroad? Family? Hmmm…"
Shaking his head to clear the extraneous thoughts, he decided, "We can discuss the 'where' later as that will most likely be tied to his method for revival. So, he'll look for a safe house followed by restoration to his body. His impatience combined with his massive ego won't allow him to maintain this ineffectual and humiliating form for long.
"Based on what Minerva related regarding the emotions you could sense from him," the old man fixed his thoughtful expression on Harry, "I doubt he will tolerate any dissent from his followers. He's waited a long twelve years for this resurrection. Tom Riddle won't allow for any unnecessary delay."
Staring off to the distance, he elaborated, "The man's genius was unbounded. No topic was un-mastered. I'm sure if he so chose, he could obtain masteries in all our core courses with no revision beforehand. I do not expect him to go the easy route. He will want to maximize the event. I expect not only a resurrection, but a manoeuvring of events so that he can strike a blow to his enemies."
Fixing his gaze on Harry again, he counselled, "You must be vigilant, Harry. You and I are his prime targets. He will come for us first."
Harry nodded seriously. "As you must be as well, Headmaster. You are a beacon of hope to Britain."
A gracious nod of his head preceded his summation. "He will attempt to strike a blow while maintaining his anonymity. These Fiendfyre Vigilantes have severely decimated Tom's pre-existing supporters. He will need time to amass support both financial and manpower. Alone he is a dangerous wizard. With support, he is the leader of his revolution."
Gesturing with his hand, Dumbledore asked, "May I keep this memory, Harry? I'm sure that my Necromantic experts will want to watch the…proceedings," he finished with evident distaste.
Harry nodded absently, deep in thought. Hermione asked, "Just a quick follow up, sir. Who will you be calling in to evaluate the Necromancy?"
With an amused grin, the old Headmaster replied, "I shall first contact Christian Duvail. He's a Frenchman who's the foremost Necromancer in Europe. If he is unavailable or ignorant as to Tom's designs, I shall ask Chit Sang of China followed by Xin Fu of Hong Kong. Both men owe me large favours and can be trusted to keep a secret."
"An Unbreakable Vow ensures their secrecy," Harry observed.
Dumbledore's raised eyebrows were all the expression of protest that was needed. "Let me rephrase," Harry began. "I will have to insist that you bind your consultants by using an Unbreakable Vow. My parents should have done so with Peter when they made him their secret keeper. I don't intend to repeat the mistakes of the past."
With a gentle nod of his head, Dumbledore acquiesced to Harry's 'request'.
A long break of silence settled over the group. Finally, Hermione glanced around the room in a silent poll. Turning to the old man, she announced, "Thank you for your time, Headmaster. We'll be in touch."
.oOo.
"So was that the most anti-climactic meeting you've ever been involved with or what?" Sirius asked the room when they got back to Rowan Hill.
"No kidding. I went in there for a battle and we got a semi-reasoned discourse with Albus. He only got stupid the one time."
"And you smacked him like a puppy," Hermione told her husband as she curled into his side.
Blushing slightly, Harry wrapped an arm about Hermione's shoulders. "Well…"
There was a pregnant pause before Sirius put voice to the question they were all pondering, "What now?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Harry replied.
A/N
1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first eleven chapters. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on FanFiction(dot)net.
2. Recommendation for the chapter is 'Twas the Day Before Christmas by apAidan. It's a fun little story about our heroes finally seeing what was plain to everyone else. Sorry about the confusion regarding last chapter's rec. Coming Back Late is by Paracelsus on Portkey, but the author's name on FanFiction dot net is alchymie.
3. The song Harry's singing in bed is "Thank You" by Led Zeppelin.
4. A reminder: I despise the plot device that is Horcruxes. I'll never use them in a story and they aren't involved in this story, either. Same goes for the so-called Deathly Hallows. Neat idea, but the way that JKR included them as a tacked on Deus Ex Machina in book 7 nearly made me heave. Repeatedly.
5. I've heard (and it may be rumour) that JKR pronounced Snape her most complex character. I couldn't disagree more. Severus Snape is a bully who didn't get the girl he lusted after because he was an asshole. Then he went and joined the club of 'let's pick on the people who are different' because she wouldn't love him even though he was an asshole. When his new 'friends' turned out to be much meaner than he expected, he ran crying to his old headmaster. Unrelenting guilt drove him to grudgingly aid the good guys. Because he didn't get his way with the girl, he took it out on a generation of students; focusing on the son of the woman he 'loved'. What a putz.
Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, is a study in contradiction. In this chapter, I just begin to plumb the depths of this character's twists and turns. I believe Albus is easily the most complex character in the entire Harry Potter series of books. Sure, the fics where Dumbles is evil are funny, but to be honest, he's an incredibly complex character, who, in the end, fails far more than he succeeds. But then again, don't we all?
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