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  This chapter was edited by Gdiusx. Check his works on HP and ASOIAF, I highly recommend them.

  “And the room can turn into anything I imagined, Harry! It can also provide me with books from the library, from the Restricted Section even!”

  Harry and Tracey smiled awkwardly at the sheer excitement gushing out of their bushy-haired friend. When they arrived outside the Room of Requirement to wake Hermione up, they found the door sealed and had to guess several times what was going on inside in order to access it. Knowing his friend, Harry had guessed that she had woken up and turned it into her own library.

  She was so delighted with the Room that she hugged them both so tightly that Harry almost felt his ribs creaking. It took them the better part of an hour to convince her they had to go to the Great Hall–apparently, the announcement did not reach inside the Room.

  “I'm gd you discovered a method to do your homework peacefully, then.” Tracey huffed before smirking. “Perhaps we normal students will finally be able to use the library without feeling inferior about how many book stacks you surround yourself with.”

  Harry groaned inwardly; he was just beginning to think the two girls were getting along swimmingly. Knowing Hermione’s headstrong attitude, she would no doubt–

  “Hmph, mediocre students have no right to compin when hard workers such as I ace all the exams.” Hermione pursed her lips and raised her nose in faux arrogance. “Do not fret. Now that I know of the Room of Requirement, my visits to the library will be much less frequent. Now, students of lesser academic standards and accomplishments can finally enjoy the library without feeling inferior.”

  “Oh, thank you, Your Majesty!” Tracey curtsied dramatically, “Truly, your generosity knows no bounds.”

  Both girls giggled as they continued their way to the Great Hall, confusing Harry more than ever; he was certain they were not that close, yet now they were joking so easily. Girls were weird.

  “Let’s take a shortcut.” Tracey suddenly decred as they stopped by a portrait of an old warlock snoozing in peace — until Tracey rapped on his frame loudly. “Blimping Badgers!”

  The old warlock jerked awake before staring blearily at them and spoke in a thick accent, “You again. What do you want?”

  “Blimping Badgers!” Tracey repeated, an annoyed edge seeping into her voice. “Just open the bleeding passage, you old coot!”

  The warlock bristled, his face turning gaunt and eyes narrowing, before suddenly sighing and defting, “If I were alive, I would never suffer such disrespect.”

  The portrait opened like a door, revealing a dark tunnel. Harry lit his wand as he led the two witches inside, the portrait closing behind them. Hermione looked in wonder as they walked through the tunnel, which subtly curved downwards.

  “A secret passage! How did you discover it?”

  “We spent the past few hours exploring the Chamber of Secrets and the castle,” Harry expined, snickering inwardly at his bushy-haired friend’s grimace. “We discovered a few secret passages from the Chamber, and recalling the one Dany showed us, we figured there must be more passages in the castle.”

  “Yes, but how did you find it?”

  “How do you expect we found the passages, then?”

  “You could have cast the Revealing Charm. Or maybe some sort of exploration charm? A Sonar Charm?” Harry and Tracey snickered as Hermione rubbed her chin and went through all sorts of methods where they could have discovered a secret passage until she saw them smirking at each other. “Come on, tell me!”

  “We asked the portraits if they were hiding something.” Tracey shrugged. “You were right with one thing. I cast a variant of the Revealing Charm that showed if there was a cavity or a tunnel behind the portrait, then we talked to them.”

  “Ingenious. But to think that grumpy warlock allowed you passage…”

  “It wasn’t easy, as he requested a quest of sorts before he gave us the password.” Harry expined, “Once you know the password, the portraits can’t prevent you from entering.”

  “Oh? And what quest did he ask you, oh mighty adventurous duo?”

  “…Never you mind.”

  No way Harry was telling her that he and Tracey had to do that Svic dance where they squatted and kicked their legs in the air. Harry didn’t even know what Prisiadki was, and the portrait refused to eborate. Thankfully, Tracey knew it, and while she was terrible at it, Harry managed to impress the portrait enough to tell them the password.

  Naturally, Hermione was not satisfied and continued to badger them on how they discovered the password all the way to the Entrance Hall when a statue leapt aside for them to pass through after Harry spped its back.

  “Hang on, we barely walked for five minutes and took no stairs. How did we reach the first floor from the sixth floor?”

  Tracey gnced at Hermione strangely. “Magic.”

  They entered the Great Hall, finding it packed. Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers were seated at the staff table, yet Harry found himself staring at a very fat man with a walrus moustache whispering to the headmaster. So fat, he would give Wyman Manderly a run for his money, and an image of the man trying to mount a hippogriff nearly caused Harry to snort.

  “Well, I'll head to the Slytherin table. It's been fun, you two, and I look forward to repeating our adventure.” Tracey’s earlier exuberance and excitement melted into the polite facade he was more used to seeing. She gave them one final wink before leaving. “I’ll be waiting by the lift in the dungeons at nine for our next trip.”

  And off she went to her table, sitting beside a bemused Daphne who most likely did not notice her disappearance all day. Harry tried to read their lips and had a vague idea that Daphne was asking her where her robes were. He still had to figure out a way to return them to Tracey.

  “Wait, when did we agree on travelling again?”

  “Apparently, just now,” Harry said with a snort. “Come on, let's grab a seat.”

  They hurried to the Gryffindor table, finding a seat beside Hestia and Flora, who were talking to Ginny nearby. Ginny noticed them first and greeted them.

  “Oh, hi, Harry. Hi Hermione.”

  “Hello, Ginny. Hey, Hestia and Flora. How’s the first day of school treating you?”

  “It was fine,” Hestia replied as she looked around the empty table. “I just wish they hurry up so we can have dinner.”

  “Yeah, I’m also hungry.” Flora chimed in. “Ginny was telling us this never happened before, but she’s only a second year.”

  Before Harry could reply, someone called his name, and he turned to find Oliver Wood waving at him. “What was that, Wood?”

  “I said, Quidditch tryouts are on Saturday at eight. I already booked the pitch for us. Don’t be te!”

  Harry nodded, noticing the keeper yelling the same to Angelina and Alicia before looking for Katie, finding her talking to a girl at the Hufflepuff table–the one in their year called Leanne.

  As the Great Hall filled, Dumbledore stood up and halted all the chatter with a gesture. The headmaster hid it well, but Harry could detect a sense of tiredness coming from him.

  “Good evening, students. For our first years, I pray you have enjoyed Hogwarts and all it has to offer.” Dumbledore smiled at several of the first years, their eyes shining in excitement. “For the older students, I hope you also had a productive first day at school. Now, first, matters of staff. Regretfully, it appears that Professor Snape shall need to remain in St Mungo’s until further notice.” Excited whispers filled the Great Hall until the headmaster pointedly coughed. “After st night’s excitement, I was forced to admit that I cannot cover for Potions Css in a persistent manner. I am sure Professor Babbling did her best for today’s fourth and sixth-year csses, yet it would not be fair to force her to cover a css for which she did not have time to prepare. For that, I apologise for putting you in such a tough situation, Bathsheba.”

  Dumbledore bowed to one of the teachers, one of the younger ones compared to McGonagall, Sprout, or Flitwick. The short Ancient Runes professor nodded politely, and the headmaster turned back to them.

  “Of course, the school needs a Potions Master, and thus, I have invited a skilled teacher to return to our sacred halls. Many of you may have heard of him, for he used to teach in Hogwarts in the past and most likely taught your parents as well.” Dumbledore motioned at the massive man sitting beside him, who stood and bowed, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight — he was much shorter than Harry expected. “I would like to introduce you to Horace Slughorn, who agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House.”

  Polite appuse spread around the Hall, though the Slytherins were far more enthusiastic than Harry ever saw them. The new teacher smiled jovially at the students, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment more than the others as his smile grew wider. For a moment, Harry had a sense of familiarity, like he should know that name.

  “It’s the potion master that Daddy hired for your project, Harry,” Hestia whispered to him, and it was like a lightbulb lit in Harry’s head — he thought his name was Loras.

  “We saw him when he delivered the potions,” Flora expined. “He seemed very interested in meeting you, Harry. Daddy didn’t say much about him aside from him being one of the best in the business and that he had plenty of connections.”

  Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry and the twins were not the only ones talking; the whole Hall was buzzing with excited whispers at the news that Snape was most likely gone for at least the rest of the year. Dumbledore waited a few seconds to ensure the silence was absolute before continuing.

  “As I’m sure many of you are now aware, yesterday's attack on the Hogwarts Express had unforeseen circumstances — or perhaps we should have known that such an act would happen, for there is no greater force in the world than love; doubly so for a mother's love.” Dumbledore sighed loudly and took off his gsses to rub them on his sleeve before putting them back on. “Of course, I do not condone acts of violence and murder, but is there a fiercer fighter than a protective mother?”

  Shocked spread out through the four tables. Dumbledore had all but confirmed that Narcissa Bck had killed someone, yet it almost sounds like he did not bme her. Harry narrowed his eyes. What was he pying at?

  “I understand several of you have noticed the inability to send or receive mail from outside the school,” the headmaster continued, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice. “Our illustrious Minister had taken it upon himself to pce a gag order around my school. I had to gently remind him that he cks the authority to do such a thing without Wizengamot's approval and has agreed to compensate any student or family whose owl suffered a mishap as a result of said order. Owls can now freely fly in and out of Hogwarts.”

  Many started cursing the Minister openly. Cornelius Fudge had lost plenty of prestige after the attack on the Hogwarts Express and his less-than-stelr showing when he barged into the Great Hall and begged Dumbledore for help.

  “So what happened in the ministry?” One of the students from Hufflepuff asked.

  “Did that crazy woman kill someone?” An older girl from Ravencw hiccuped in worry. “My mother was working te, and I couldn't reach her!”

  “Same with my father!”

  Many worried questions followed, panic nearly gripping the Hall until the headmaster raised his hand for silence.

  “More information will be avaible in tomorrow morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet. For now, I assure all of you that no ministry worker who was scheduled to work st evening was harmed in the slightest.” Many sighs of relief followed, though a few of the more perceptive students caught what was not said — those who were not supposed to work st night may not be in great health after all. “Now, I have taken enough of your time, and I'm sure you are all hungry. Without further ado…”

  Dumbledore cpped his hands, and dinner appeared on the tables. Harry caught the headmaster’s eye and nodded — after dinner, they would meet in his office.

  “Do you think Umbridge is really dead?” Hermione asked with a strange look on her face. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, murder is murder, but the woman was asking for it.”

  “Only you, Hermione, only you,” Neville said, shaking his head.

  “She better be. My Dad was working st night, and if she somehow caused him any injury…” Alicia growled from nearby before running a hand through her short blonde hair. “Anyway, if Bck really got her, then no one will miss her. Her closest retive is some second cousin living abroad who has not seen her in decades. I doubt she had any friends in the ministry either, at least, not ones willing to avenge her when they gain nothing with her dead.”

  “If Narcissa Bck murdered that gargoyle, she would still go to Azkaban, right?”

  “Naturally, there should be a trial,” Fred chimed in as he and George moved seats next to their sister. “Listening to what Dad says about how slow such procedures take, it might take weeks, if not months, for it to happen.”

  “That might be so, brother mine. But don’t forget, our illustrious Minister will certainly be interested in bypassing any kind of trial and tossing her straight into Azkaban as if we were back in the Blood War.” George chortled. “Did we tell you that our mother started working again in the ministry a few weeks ago?”

  “Oh? You never did.” Harry sat straight in interest; he had been very worried about Molly Weasley’s wellbeing; the woman was like a mother to him. “Where does she work?”

  “Department of International Magical Co-operation, specifically, the International Magical Trading Standards Body,” Fred replied. “Don’t let the fact she stayed at home to raise us hellions think she did badly in school. Mom had nine OWLs and six NEWTs after all.”

  “Impressive. She’s working closely with Barty Crouch, then?”

  “Yeah, old Barty is as strict as they get yet even he can’t hold a candle to our mum.” George ughed again. “Unfortunately, working there caused Mum the misfortune of dealing with Umbridge more than she liked. Terrible woman, but very close to Fudge, supposedly.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. I never thought Mum was such a gossip,” Ginny grumbled. “She is utterly convinced that the two are having an affair.”

  “Isn’t the Minister married?!” Hermione gasped. “I think he even had a daughter who graduated st year.”

  “Well, as the saying goes.” Fred grinned. “What happens in the Ministry stays in the Ministry.”

  Alicia narrowed her eyes. “I thought it was what ‘Happens in Hogwarts stays in Hogwarts’?”

  “That too.”

  They continued to chat for a bit more, Harry opting to listen and enjoy his food rather than engage. It was when the discussion shifted towards Slughorn that he asked a question.

  “So what do we know about him?”

  “Who, Horace Slughorn? All I know is he retired back in ‘81 and Snape took over since.” Angelina shrugged. “Hey, Wood. Do you know anything about Slughorn?”

  Oliver Wood turned away from the neatly arranged ptes of food that were clearly designed for an athlete’s diet. “Don’t care about Potions, but my cousin tells me he knows a lot of people. Practically, the entire team of the Holyhead Harpies would join one of his infamous parties whenever he calls.”

  Some whispers of envy came from the rest of the boys, while some girls looked like they smelled something rotten.

  “What about you, Percy? You must have heard about him, being Head Boy and all that.”

  The Head Boy in question unconsciously squared his shoulder and puffed out his chest where a red and gold badge with a stylised HB was pinned.

  “Horace Slughorn is a highly respected member of Wizarding society. Aside from teaching Potions for over fifty years, he is credited by Damocles Belby with helping him greatly in creating the Wolfsbane Potion. Many other notable witches and wizards are known to be supporters of Professor Slughorn, some crediting him for many of their successes in life. He is also known not to care what background you are from as long as you prove yourself worthy of his backing.” Percy turned to Fred and George, “Perhaps if you work hard this year and show your talents in things apart from pranking and jokes, Professor Slughorn may take you under his wing. Father says he is not a bad friend to have and mented he had already retired when Bill started school.”

  For once, Fred and George looked contemptive, with no sign of their typical easy-going demeanour. “Well, Fred. Now that we know that, it is only natural we prove ourselves to our illustrious Potions Master.”

  “Right you are, George. Perhaps we could work our pns around. Potions is our favourite subject, even if Snape did his best to make us hate it.”

  The rest of dinner flew by with plenty of chatter and gossip over the new teacher and tomorrow’s newspaper. When Dumbledore excused himself early, Harry waited a couple of minutes before also leaving. Having already expined to Hermione about the headmaster’s summons, Harry swiftly exited the Great Hall and took the same shortcut from earlier to the sixth floor. This time, they needed to scratch the statue of some old warlock behind the left ear for it to jump aside and let him through to the passageways.

  Once on the sixth floor, he ran up a nearby spiral staircase, jumping over a vanishing step, before sprinting through the familiar corridor leading to the headmaster’s office.

  “Turkish Delight.”

  The gargoyle jumped aside, allowing Harry through. Once he climbed the spiral staircase and was about to knock, a loud “You may come in, Harry. I will be with you in a moment” had him shrug and open the door.

  The headmaster’s office was the same as the st time he had seen it, and Dumbledore seemed busy in his personal quarters. Harry turned at the sound of Fawkes trilling happily when he saw him. It brought a smile to his face as he approached the fiery bird and carefully ran his fingers through his bright crimson feathers.

  They were softer than silk and even more pleasant to the touch than they were to the eye.

  “Hello, Fawkes.” Harry felt himself rex as the phoenix sang a soothing tune while he waited for Dumbledore — checking his watch, he was still a few minutes early for their appointment.

  He did not wait long until the headmaster returned to the office carrying a couple of vials full of what looked like white smoke, a strange-looking disc made from bronze, and an even stranger device that looked like a muggle video camera.

  “Gd you are here, Harry. Come, I have something to show you.” Up close, the headmaster could not hide his exhaustion, and Harry felt for the man — he probably had not slept since st night. He followed the old warlock to a rge gss cabinet set in a corner where a metal bowl was pced on a marble table with a hollowed-out basin for the bowl. “I promised you the truth of why Voldemort targeted you when you were a babe, but I must ask you for more patience, at least until we finish discussing yesterday’s events.”

  Harry was about to protest until he listened to the end and schooled his face into an impassive mask. “I don’t understand why whatever happened st night retes to me.”

  “I was under the impression Narcissa Bck was a friend of yours.” The smallest of frowns appeared on Dumbledore’s face as he poured one of the vials into the metal basin. The transparent liquid in it roiled like clouds before morphing into the shape of a room. “Not just her, but another friend of yours got involved in yesterday’s events and may be in trouble. If you do not care about them, then so be it; let us forget about this and–”

  “I did not say I was not interested, professor.” Harry hastily interrupted the headmaster. He had both his attention and interest, and he knew it. “Let’s see it then.”

  “Good. I must warn you, it is not a sight for the faint of heart, but I have the feeling that you will be able to handle it. Now, do you know what this basin is?”

  “No clue, but judging from the static image, I guess it’s some sort of method to view an event.”

  “An excellent guess. This is a Pensieve. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.” For a moment, Harry’s heart nearly skipped a beat; how the hell did Dumbledore know about his–no, he did not know. He was just making small talk; damned old coot nearly gave him a heart attack. “At these times, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one’s mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one’s leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns, links, and details when they are in this form.”

  “Fascinating. Does siphoning the memory permanently remove it from your mind?”

  “No, but it is simply buried deeper in your mind, allowing you to rest without constant thoughts about matters you do not wish to relive.” For a moment, the tired old headmaster looked twice his age as his shoulders slumped and back stooped. He shook his head before looking at him, though Harry noticed his eyes did not twinkle. “One can also create a copy of a memory with the help of a proficient Legilimens, if they were not one themselves, to lend them to others. You know about those branches of magic, Harry?”

  “Yeah, I came across them. Still, that’s brilliant! I take it that makes court proceedings much easier?”

  “Sadly, no, as proficient Occlumens and Legilimens are capable of fabricating memories. Most cases do not accept them as evidence, no matter how useful they might be.”

  “Hang on, how many wizards or witches are so good at both Occlumency and Legilimancy that such a thing warrants worry?”

  “Aside from myself and Severus? I cannot think of more than a handful in all of Magical Britain.” Harry stared strangely at the Headmaster, who merely shrugged, “If I doubted your intelligence, Harry, I would have assured you that the Ministry has its citizens’ best interest at heart. While I assure you that plenty of department heads and Ministry officials care deeply about the people, I assume you would not accept any such ptitudes from someone like Cornelius Fudge.”

  “Definitely not. This is the man who refused to act against Lucius Malfoy and instead fabricated the entire Dark Lord Lockhart story in the time it took me to eat my dinner.”

  “Quite.” Dumbledore chuckled for a moment, but his gaze had not moved from the Pensieve. “I will ask one st time, purely for my own conscience. Are you prepared to witness this, Harry? It is not a pretty sight.”

  “If it’s not a pretty sight, then why do you think I need to see it, Professor?”

  “Merlin knows I am not even sure what makes me think it’s a good idea. But I have a strong feeling that you will do your best to help Narcissa. She’s in St Mungo’s right now and in dire need of expensive treatment, a treatment that Fudge has barred all Ministry funding from contributing to as is her right, including myself as Chief Warlock.”

  “Don’t the Malfoys have a wyer or estate steward?”

  “The Malfoy’s solicitor, who also acts as estate manager, is Pius Thicknesse. I confronted him privately about it, and he decred that since Narcissa is no longer a Malfoy, he is under no obligation to help a penniless widow. He mentioned having a lead on a new Lord Malfoy who is set to inherit the manor, some businesses here and there, as well as the Gringotts vault.”

  “Grasping fellow, isn’t he?”

  “And the most successful barrister in Magical Britain. One must be ruthless to succeed in such a profession.”

  “Perhaps, but the heavens do not look kindly on those who show themselves to be honourless curs. He may yet be faced with misfortune.”

  “Wise words, though if that was true, many people in history would be drowning in misfortune for the crimes they committed, don’t you think?”

  “How do you know they are not miserable in their own way? Nevertheless, we digress. What about Narcissa’s friends or family?”

  “Fair weather friends would not give a sickle to help her, and her only family is Andromeda Tonks, who is the only reason St Mungo’s is even treating her right now; Edward Tonks and your attendant had taken it upon themselves to treat her to the best of their ability when the rest of the healers were pressured by the Minister to refuse to treat her.” Harry already knew that Tonks and Chiara were treating Narcissa, but he was unaware that politics would get in the way of treating someone. “While many on the Wizengamot would likely aid her during judgement owing to her status as a pureblood witch, let alone a young and beautiful widow as well, their hands are also tied by Cornelius’ edict.”

  “I’m surprised Fudge has the power to issue such a thing, considering what happened. I thought for sure he would be booted from office by now.”

  “Ah, but there lies the duplicity of politics. What is the best way to distract people from catastrophe?”

  “Create another one?” Harry guessed, and Dumbledore merely nodded.

  “Impressive, you may be a politician yourself, Harry. Yes, Cornelius, despite his cklustre performance as a Minister over the past couple of years, is still an adept politician who has worked in the Ministry for decades. Narcissa’s rampage had bought him a breather to decre a State of Emergency and wield absolute power, or so he might think. In truth, he is merely buying himself more time before a disgruntled department head eventually issues a vote of no confidence. I had to gently remind him that he cannot simply throw the Lady Bck in Azkaban without trial, as a State of Emergency is not Martial Law, something that has not been decred since the First Wizarding War.”

  “Interesting.” Harry turned to the Pensieve. “So, this is a memory of what happened st night?”

  “Indeed, the memories of Eleanor Fawley, to be more precise.” Harry’s eyes widened. “Ah, her aunt did mention you were friends. Do not fret. She is hale and hearty, though she might lose her job due to something you will discover. Anyway, we have dawdled enough; let us be off.”

  Dumbledore grabbed his forearm before touching the image with his finger. Instantly, Harry found himself standing in the Office of Records, with Eleanor stretching over her desk. The world was frozen until Dumbledore waved his hand, and the memory pyed. He was shocked to discover it worked like the Pool in his mind, except it did not show every tiny detail like his own memories did.

  They watched from Eleanor’s perspective of things as she turned away; the area where she was not looking became blurry, while the spot she stared at sharpened in focus. From Umbridge’s announcement to Eleanor arriving outside the Minister’s office, they had to follow her or lose themselves to the darkening world.

  Harry stared coldly at Umbridge’s poor dispy of leadership as well as her group of thugs. “How is she allowed to bring a dozen sellwands into ministry premises?”

  “It is not, in fact, allowed.” Dumbledore was also frowning. “Cornelius might have mentioned he allowed his Undersecretary leave to hire her own guard, but at no point was such a guard allowed into ministry premises. In fact, bringing the dementors in here is a gross misuse of power and will certainly not endear her to the Wizengamot.”

  “I thought you said memories were not accepted as evidence?”

  “Ah, but when there are enough witnesses reporting the same thing, then special permission can be granted for the court to peruse the memories as well as witness testimony.”

  Certainly, there were nine other witnesses apart from Eleanor. They continued to watch as Umbridge threatened them, the appearance of the strange devices that Dumbledore expined were a Sneakoscope and Foegss, and her thugs looking about, ready to attack them, until the star of the moment entered the scene.

  And what an entrance she made!

  Narcissa Bck was like a vengeful wraith as she bsted apart the Atrium. A couple of wizards apparated away, and Harry wagered they were the ones who warned Fudge about the attack. The rest of them hid in the Minister’s office following Narcissa’s decration. Only Eleanor, hidden under disillusionment, Umbridge, the dementors, and the dozen hired wands remained. Harry and Dumbledore stood next to Eleanor as she activated what Dumbledore called an omniocurs, before watching on as the battle started.

  At first, Harry was worried about how Narcissa would take on her twelve adversaries. She never struck him as the fighting type, and judging by the thugs’ words and attitudes, they were more than used to dealing with witches. That was until she opened with that terrible curse that caused the talkative thug’s spine and ribs to burst out of his body in a gory dispy of death.

  From there, Harry watched, transfixed at the battle beneath them. So many curses and dark magic flew from every wand in the Atrium. Dumbledore gripped his shoulder tightly, and Harry found the man staring intently at the fight below.

  “Look closely, Harry. This is but a taste of the power you will be forced to face once Voldemort eventually comes after you.”

  The words were foreboding, and Harry unconsciously gulped before returning to the battle. He focused intently on every minute wand movement, drinking every detail, every word spoken, every dodge and positioning. He watched in subdued awe at the fmes that erupted in a menagerie of animals from the wizard’s wand, turning it into ashes in the process. Harry tried to listen to what the wizard chanted, but he was too far away, and he was hardly proficient in lip-reading. Nevertheless, the fmes intrigued Harry, though something deep inside him recoiled at the sickening sensation the fire gave him. He had the feeling that if he tried to eat those fmes like Cinder showed him, it would not end well.

  Just as he thought those cursed fmes would consume Narcissa, her wind dragon switched pces with her and swallowed them whole, turning into a fming dragon that promptly consumed her attackers.

  Still, despite the death and misery happening below him, Harry couldn’t help but enjoy watching this battle. He was learning a lot more from this than anything he had ever experienced or was taught in school. There was one thing that interested him above all else in this fight: the way Narcissa’s enchanted tools worked. The War Staff clearly housed a dragon spirit of some sort — knowing what he did about souls from Cinder, dragons were in that criteria of creatures where they had sentience, but it was not something inherent like humans and other near-human creatures. Then, there was the protective jewellery that saved Narcissa’s life more than once. And finally, the paper Talismans that somehow moved on their own and blocked the more dangerous curses, specifically, three of them that Narcissa did her best to avoid.

  “Those are the Unforgivable Curses; named so because to use any one of them on a witch or wizard would warrant life imprisonment in Azkaban in the worst cases.” Dumbledore expined, “All three of them are considered a form of higher magic. It is something you will touch upon in your NEWT csses, but all you need to know is that they are incredibly easy to learn yet far more difficult to master, let alone cast, due to the hefty power requirements. No magical shield can block them, and the only method to protect against them is how Ms Bck has shown us.”

  “Dodge them or block them with a physical object?”

  “Exactly so. The Imperius Curse is used to dominate one’s mind to do your bidding. The Cruciatus Curse is used to deliver unimaginable pain to your target. Finally, the Killing Curse, also known as the Soul Severing Curse, outright severs the body’s connection to their soul, thus killing the target.”

  “How…humane.” Dumbledore turned to him in shock. “Looking at all the dark magic being flung around and how painful some of those curses look, killing someone so cleanly is a mercy.”

  “…Perhaps so, but I would rather one does not resort to tools of murder. It is the same curse Voldemort tried and failed to kill you with and gave you your infamous scar.”

  Harry nodded stoically; he was not particurly surprised, or perhaps he was, and he was simply too absorbed by the battle beneath them to care at the moment. They watched Narcissa groan in pain as several curses finally overwhelmed her talismans and struck her just as the st of her attackers were swallowed whole by her fming dragon. She swallowed some potions before producing a Papyrus scroll of sorts, simir to the ones he saw hung on the walls of Nefertari’s Smoky Den, to seal the fming dragon; even more interesting tools that Harry found himself highly intrigued with.

  Then Umbridge arrived and proceeded to virtually confess to sending those dementors after Draco.

  “Professor, I sincerely hope you will be doing your best to drag that woman’s name through the mud after this.” Eleanor had just sent a patronus that banished the dementors away, and they watched as Narcissa duelled Umbridge. However, Eleanor turned away then, and the memory became blurry.

  “That is the job of a barrister, something we need to discuss ter.” They continued watching until Eleanor turned back, finding Umbridge’s prone form and Narcissa apparating away. Dumbledore waved his hand, and they exited the memory, returning back to the office and scrutinising him for a moment. “Strange, you do not at all seem disturbed by such a bloody dispy.”

  “I’ve seen worse.” Harry shrugged, “a pile of rocks breaking open your best mate’s head like an egg or crushing a teacher’s spine and severing his arm is no different from what you just showed me. Or me burning Quirrell to ashes, or the monsters of the Forbidden Forest that I had to kill, butcher, and eat for sustenance.”

  “…Fair enough.” Dumbledore sighed tiredly as he closed the cabinet and returned to his desk, motioning him to sit as well. He remained silent, fiddling with the bronze disc he held earlier, hesitant to talk.

  “I still don’t understand. Why do you care so much about helping Narcissa Bck?” Harry lost patience and asked what had been bothering him for the past hour. “I would think you, most of all, would criticise her heavy-handed approach. She slew twelve men, Professor. Thirteen, if my guess to what she did with Umbridge is on point.”

  Dumbledore remained silent as he stared idly at the devices before sighing.

  “This is the only copy of what Ms Fawley had recorded on her omniocurs. I managed to procure it from her before it could be lost in the DMLE after Cornelius detained her. I’m certain it can be used to secure a lighter sentence for Narcissa. This,” he motioned towards the camera-like device, “is a projector. It pys what an omniocurs recorded but into a light projection that can be aimed at the wall, not too dissimir to muggle telly. This way, many people can see at the same time instead of passing the omniocurs around.”

  The headmaster pced the disc and projector on a tray and pushed them across the desk towards him. Harry refused to take them, merely waiting for Dumbledore to answer his question. The headmaster, in his credit, merely huffed in amusement as he sat back in his seat.

  “Quite the stubborn man, Harry.”

  “Perhaps I am. Nevertheless, I refuse to be maniputed. You clearly want to use me to help Narcissa out of her predicament, yet you are not giving me all the information I would need for such a request.”

  “Does that mean you will help her?”

  “Perhaps I will. I do owe her, and I am…fond of her. I can certainly sympathise with her situation. Not to mention, another friend of mine ended up involved in this whole mess. Yet, while I have given my reasons for potentially helping Narcissa Bck, you have given me none of your own. So, Professor Dumbledore,” Harry folded his fingers on the desk as he leaned forward, his face in the coldest mask he could muster. “Why do you care so much about her? Do you feel responsible for what happened to Draco?”

  “Perhaps I do. I may argue that the Hogwarts Express is under the jurisdiction of the Ministry, but that is a poor excuse. The fact remains that a student still died.” Dumbledore gazed back at him with an inscrutable look. Harry realised the old warlock was hiding his emotions behind an Occlumency shield — which hid nothing from Harry as he could still smell the man’s guilt, wariness, sadness, and frustrations. His ability to detect emotions did not rely on magic, after all. “While I do not condone the method, I can understand Narcissa’s despair. I can understand the need for justice against those who harmed my family!”

  The sheer conviction in the headmaster’s words surprised Harry. He wondered who could possibly have been so foolish as to provoke Albus Dumbledore so that he could go after them in a way simir to how Narcissa hunted Umbridge.

  Dumbledore, of course, noticed the unsaid question and hesitated. Harry remained silent, waiting for the headmaster to come to terms with the matter. He would not rush him. Harry understood the need to respect others’ secrets, but if Dumbledore wanted him to understand, then expining his point would help.

  True enough, Dumbledore sighed and spoke, “When I was young, just as I was preparing to start my first year in Hogwarts, my younger sister, Ariana, was attacked by muggle teenagers. They saw her using magic and decided to exorcise the witch from the devils possessing her. I will not go into detail about what happened to her, but it was terrible. My brother, Aberforth and I were so full of rage and righteous fury; how dare these muggles attack our sister? How dare they cause her magic to constantly go wild, destroying any hope of her going to school or controlling her magic? While I was too young and weak to act upon my emotions at the time, my father was not. He went after the scum who harmed my sister and exacted his own brand of justice on them. My brother and I watched as he brutalised them, instilling the fear of magic in them and ensuring that never again would they ever harm a young girl in their lives.”

  Harry could hardly believe that Albus Dumbledore, the so-called champion of muggle rights and muggle-borns, would do such a drastic thing. But no, he did nothing; his father did everything, yet Albus clearly approved. And so did Harry! He was no innocent babe to misunderstand what happened to Ariana Dumbledore. Wars have been fought for less!

  “…My father ended up going to Azkaban. If he had expined why he attacked the muggles, the Ministry would have understood and spped him with a simple fine while Obliviating the boys — none of them died, even if they would forever bear the scars of my father’s rage. Yet, to do so, would mean confessing to why he did it, which would lead to the Ministry decring my sister a danger to the Statute of Secrecy and taking her away from us. My father forbade me and Aberforth from speaking of what happened, and he accepted the consequences of his own actions.”

  The office fell into silence. By telling him all of this, Harry understood that Dumbledore was pcing a great amount of trust in him. Nothing the headmaster had told him was a lie. He felt for Narcissa’s plight, comparing her with his father’s own. It was that simple. But there was something else. Something else that Harry struggled to put his finger on.

  “So, those twelve sellwands in the ministry–”

  “Hired thugs from pces of ill-repute. I’m not saying that justifies their murder, yet they all had active warrants and bounties on their heads, so there is a chance their deaths could be ruled as self-defence. It helps that they all decred their intentions quite loudly and were not shy about using Unforgivables.” Dumbledore grimaced. “I have heard that the criminal elements in the country had been restless since Lucius’ death, but combined with the DMLE being underfunded…Regardless, what say you, Harry? Will you help a grieving mother in her time of need?”

  “You already know I was going to help her, Professor. No need to guilt-trip me to do it.” Harry smirked, causing the headmaster to chuckle. His mind began to race. The whole thing…felt off. Not with Narcissa or the story Dumbledore had confided, but the seemingly innocuous reasoning. “But I think you’re not being entirely honest, professor.”

  “Not a single word I have said tonight has been false, Harry.”

  “Not with me, but with yourself. A man such as you will not be easily moved to help someone who is doubtlessly not only in the wrong but also a murderer. Even if you felt empathy or compassion for them, you are still the Headmaster of Hogwarts; you cannot afford to be seen helping someone like that.”

  Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised so high they threatened to disappear in his hair. “Then, if not compassion, what do you think has forced my hand so?”

  “Perhaps you feel guilty. Guilty that this whole thing happened. Guilty that you didn’t insist strongly enough to rebuff the use of Dementors by the Ministry. Guilty that you didn’t ensure the train was more protected. Guilty that so many people died because of your actions — or for ck of.”

  “If I was feeling guilty, why would I not act myself?” Dumbledore prodded gently.

  “Why indeed?” Harry rubbed his chin, trying to stretch his senses to the limit. But the headmaster was a ball of chaos right now. “Perhaps because you fear your action — or inaction, would turn badly once again. Or perhaps because you don’t want to break your image as a w-abiding man or be seen favouring a dark witch? Or is it that a csh with the Minister for Magic would see your influence exhausted and your contacts strained in a case where you wish to preserve them for a rainy day?”

  This would mean that the headmaster told the story of his sister to teach Harry a lesson and win his trust by disclosing something so intimate. Albus Dumbledore possessed far more cunning than he had given him credit for.

  The headmaster closed his eyes and chuckled. It was a sorrowful chuckle. Instead of confirming or denying, he said, “You really are a fascinating young man, Harry.”

  “Thank you, Professor. Nevertheless, I believe the real issue here is Narcissa herself. Does she wish to be saved? Does she still have the will to live?”

  “And that is the crux of the matter, is it not? Narcissa is currently unconscious. Head Healer Tonks does not know when she will wake up and refuses the Minister’s demands to forcefully wake her. Until she awakens and decres she has no wish for a defence, Andromeda, as her closest kin, can act as her representative.”

  “Yet my help would certainly smooth a lot of things.” Harry rubbed his chin. “Incidentally, whatever happened to Umbridge? She is dead, right?”

  “Regretfully so, I was too te to save her from what Narcissa pnned for her. I recognised it as a ritual of retribution, an archaic Druidic ritual where a murderer is sacrificed on the altar of the murdered for the gods to judge and guarantee a swift journey to the afterlife for the victim.”

  Harry found himself nodding in approval; it sounded simir to the weirwood sacrifices of his home, and while some might decry it as barbaric, what difference did it make if the murderer was hanged in front of a crowd, beheaded in private, or disembowelled in front of the gods?

  The messy outcome could be easily cleaned with magic, after all.

  “Very well, I will do my best to help Narcissa Bck. I will need to contact a friend of mine who could help.” Dumbledore nodded, though Harry could sense his relief and happiness – his mind raced as the beginning of a pn began to form in his mind. “You already know of a good barrister, right?”

  “Indeed, it is a friend from my school days. Elphias Doge had retired for years but agreed to come out of retirement for this case. He does not approve of Narcissa’s actions but is sympathetic and willing to fight for a fair trial and a lighter sentence. I’m afraid he had straight out told me there was no way she would avoid punishment for destroying Ministry property and murdering a high-ranked Ministry official, especially when Fudge is hell-bent on vengeance.”

  “Baby steps, then. I will need permission to leave the school to meet with him.” Harry’s lips quirked upwards. “Let’s say an open-ended permission for the rest of the year in case I need to bring a friend or two along to help me.”

  “Now, now, Harry, I do not want you to abuse my goodwill and invite half the school for a party in your manor.” Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle finally returning to his eyes. “Let’s say I agree. I trust I would not hear about any such thing, hmm?”

  “Absolutely, sir! I will do my best to make sure you would not hear a thing of the sort.” Harry said with a straight face even as Dumbledore chortled. His mind wandering to Hermione’s upcoming ritual; he and Tracey had explored the castle looking for a suitable location for it, but perhaps he should just take Hermione to his mansion and have her do the ritual then. “Alright, if that’s all we had to discuss?”

  “Ah, I did want to warn you about Horace Slughorn.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Oh, nothing at all. He is a good man and an excellent teacher, but he has the habit of collecting famous and talented people like Chocote Frog Cards. I may have hinted that you were a great fan of his, and he eagerly awaits to meet you in person.”

  “…Really, Professor? A fanboy?”

  Albus Dumbledore ughed loudly; it was something that Harry never thought he would witness, the headmaster releasing a full belly ugh. Fawkes seemed to ugh along with his companion as he trilled happily, and Harry couldn’t resist and snickered along. A few minutes ter, when they calmed down, Dumbledore spoke again.

  “He was very fond of your mother. The brightest witch he had ever seen was what he called her. He did not care one whit about her blood status, for Horace was far above such silly politics. If you had the talent and ability, then he would do his damnedest to support you and see that potential realised regardless.”

  “Sounds like a good man.” Harry nodded, now truly interested in their new Potions Master. “And apparently, I had unknowingly hired him through a project with my cousin.”

  “Ah yes, Reginald’s fascinating pesticide. The House Elves absolutely love it. It was how I managed to get a hold of Horace as well. I owe your cousin a favour for that.”

  “Good to hear. Now, headmaster,” Harry checked his watch, finding it was only eight — he had plenty of time and still more questions. “If you are not too tired, I am more than ready to learn why Voldemort wanted to kill me.”

  Dumbledore’s light-hearted demeanour faded to a serious countenance as he once again stood and produced the second memory vial he brought earlier. “If you believe yourself ready, then so be it. Come, it is time you learn of the truth and of your fate in this conflict.”

  Harry and Dumbledore form an official alliance. Normally, Albus would never condone what Narcissa did, but I truly believe that he would contrast what she did with what his father did. That and he feels guilty.

  JKR was incredibly vague about what those muggle boys did to Ariana Dumbledore, but teenagers can be the cruellest sons of bitches around, doubly so for those in the te 19th century. I will let your imagination decide what they did to Ariana that was so serious that Percival Dumbledore took it upon himself to exact justice.

  Narcissa wearing that guest tag saying Justice struck a chord with Albus, that’s for sure.