LAST TIME
"Of course," Harry raised a finger and frowned. "Why MACUSA though?"
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, and Harry felt the magic thrum in the office. "To send a message and end their unpleasantness once and for all. It has been some time since I reminded some people who I am, wouldn't you say?"
"Seems like I am going to have fun today."
"Indeed, we are, my boy. Indeed, we are. Now, if you would?"
Harry grasped the end of the quill and felt a tug behind his navel, and the headmaster's office disappeared in a swirl of colors.
Ch.85 Aggressive Negotiations
12th July 1996
Penryn, Cornwall
The slight crack of apparition rang down the empty alley, the heat of the afternoon sun prickling Harry's skin as he shielded his eyes with his hand.
"Where are we, professor? And who are we meeting?"
"A small town in Cornwall." Dumbledore transfigured his robes into a neat, orange suit, and Harry followed his lead, transfiguring his robes into a light blue shirt and black trousers with a wave of his hand. "As for who we are meeting, it is an old friend, one who was once upon a time regarded as one of the greatest professors to grace Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he retired two years after you were born."
Harry frowned, trying to recall the names he had heard from Salazar and Helga, or the other professors regarding their predecessors.
"Walker?" Harry asked. "He was the Runes professor before Bethesda."
"Alas, Professor Walker passed away a few years ago," Dumbledore said, striding down the street, past the quaint houses, some of which seemed empty. "But it was not him we are here to meet."
"Then Slughorn. Oh, dear Merlin." Harry sighed, feeling a twinge of annoyance lance through him.
"You know him?"
"By reputation, yes, I do. As a professor, as a master of potions, and a… collector, shall we say." Harry rolled his eyes. "He taught about three generations of students, probably even more than Professor McGonagall and Flitwick have."
"Indeed." Dumbledore smiled. "What else?"
"Oh, he's got connections like only a few others in the world. He tends to select… gems, cultivate them, and put them out in the world. A world in which he knows they'll flourish. He picks the brilliant, puts their names amongst the right circles, and grows his network."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Your parents were two such gems. Why? Lily was his favorite student, whom he couldn't stop singing praises about. If I recall well, your parents' first date ever was to his exclusive Slug Club."
"Really?" Harry felt his heart drum in his chest. "They got together at his club?"
"Officially, at least. Their relationship blossomed from there, and Horace was even a guest of honor at their wedding," Dumbledore said. "Oh, wards."
He deliberately set his foot beyond a block and ambled down the cobblestoned street, Harry following him, feeling the ward trigger beneath his feet.
"You set off his wards. Why?"
"It is impolite to go without informing, isn't it? Ours is just rather short notice." Dumbledore chortled, flicking his wand to open a gate. "Since you know who Horace is, I'd assume you know what you need to do?"
"Be an eye candy? Yay." Harry scowled, and the corners of Dumbledore's lips quivered. "What do we want from him anyway?"
"For him to resume his job as a professor and to tell us more about Tom Riddle." Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look over his glasses. "His relationship with Tom was much like the relationship between Minerva and yourself. He was his favorite student, and he was his favorite teacher. No one'd know as much as Tom as he would."
"And?"
"And… I am suspicious that if Tom ever had doubts about something tricky, Horace would've been the first person he would've asked."
"Horcruxes."
"Amongst other things," Dumbledore walked down a path carved through a neat lawn and knocked on the door, which creaked open slowly, already unlocked.
Harry pushed it open further, taking a step back as the ruins of a posh living room glared at him, droplets of blood trailing down the walls.
"What?" He hurried in, the Elder Wand dropping into his palm. "He was attacked?"
"It looks like it, yes." Dumbledore gathered a drop of blood trailing down the wall before sniffing it and tasting it.
"What in— that's gross!"
"Dragon blood." Dumbledore winked at him, glancing around the room, his eyes falling upon a plush armchair, which looked unharmed by the carnage around.
Harry raised an impressed eyebrow as Dumbledore carefully stepped through the broken shards of furniture and gave the armchair a sharp poke. The chair yelped sharply, turning to a stout, balding man, his blue eyes wide as he lay on the ground, his chest heaving.
"Good afternoon, Horace."
"Dumbledore! How did you know?"
"Do you wish for a list, Horace?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he helped Slughorn to his feet, patting his shoulder.
Slughorn rubbed his belly where Dumbledore had poked him, slowly turning to regard Harry. His eyes widened further, a flash of grief and excitement passing on his face.
"Merlin's beard. You're Harry Potter."
"If I wasn't, the world's making a humongous mistake, aren't they?" Harry plastered a smile on his lips. "Hello, Mr. Slughorn. I've heard a lot about you. And the transfiguration you just demonstrated? It was brilliant, especially since you did it on yourself, if I am assuming correctly."
"I did." His cheeks pinkened. "You're too kind, just like your mother. Lily was one of my best students ever. She was so good at potions that she'd have done some great things had she been—"
Slughorn's voice faltered, and he looked away, his eyes fixed at the cabinet in the far corner, upon which photo frames lay.
"I suppose we should put the house back together," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Would you like my assistance?"
The potion master nodded, his eyes darting to the blood rolling down the walls. "You think it could be salvaged? Dragon Blood's expensive, and I used two pints to create this upholstery."
"The blood won't be at its full potency, but I wouldn't say it is unusable." Dumbledore waved his wand in a sweeping motion, and Harry felt the magic roll over the room.
The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments reformed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited. A vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes disappeared.
Harry moved as the blood flew off walls, past him, into a crystal flask in Slughorn's hand, who corked and pocketed it.
"Is there a reason you did all of this, Mr. Slughorn?" Harry lifted his foot, and a small chip of glass flew back, mending itself to the chandelier above, which lit up, throwing light on the frames that hung on the wall. "Or that you're in someone else's house, in a muggle neighborhood?"
Slughorn examined the dragon blood in the light for a moment and grimaced, slipping the crystal flask into his pocket, and met Harry's gaze with heavy eyes.
"In times like this, a wizard like myself could be in demand of certain circles I do not wish to interact with. Including this one." He glanced at Dumbledore. "And the answer's no. Even this—" He waved a hand at Harry, who raised an eyebrow. "Will not convince me to come back. I am old, tired, and want to live a life of comfort for the rest of my time."
"Indeed." Dumbledore looked around the lavish room. "Still got your collection everywhere you go."
Slughorn's eyes moved to the glittering photo frames on a marble cabinet, and he sighed heavily. "A few things to remember about my good friends—and students. Good old days. If that's all, you can show yourself out, Dumbledore."
"I don't think we will, Mr. Slughorn." Harry sat on a velvet armchair, and Slughorn turned to him. "You see, he wants some answers."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed over Slughorn's shoulder for a moment, and he nodded. "We are here for an old favorite of yours. Two, actually. First, Harry, here, wants to know more about his mother. She was a favorite of yours, wasn't she, Horace?"
Harry smothered the wave of surprise, smiling slightly at Slughorn, who seemed stunned.
"Lily… Lily," He breathed heavily, plopping himself onto an armchair, his eyes afar. "Where to begin? Lily… It is said that teachers should not have their favorites. But she was certainly mine. One of the brightest I have ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my house. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."
Harry smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his veins as he leaned forward. Slughorn glanced at him, a faint smile curving on his lips.
"You'll be in Gryffindor like her and your father, I suppose. It usually runs in families, bar the occasional surprise—like in the case of Sirius Black. All of them were brilliant, and I wouldn't have said no to having them in my house." Slughorn licked his lips, his eyes slightly misty. "Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. I Couldn't believe it when I found out. I thought she must have been a pureblood. She was so good."
"Why?" Harry felt a stab of anger and narrowed his eyes at Slughorn.
Slughorn looked down at him in surprise. "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" he said. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too —now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course —another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, who still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"
"Wonderful," Harry said, glancing at Dumbledore. "Lovely as it is all to hear, we are here to ask you about something else."
"Harry… I'm not taking a job at Hogwarts. Taking a job at Hogwarts would be akin to declaring my allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix!"
"And what's wrong with that?" Harry rose from his seat.
"Oh, you look like Lily when she was furious. I don't like that," Slughorn muttered, gripping the leather armrests of the chair. "See—"
"You like Voldemort's cause, don't you? I'm not surprised. He was a student of yours, after all." Harry watched fear fill Slughorn's eyes. "He went by a different name back then. Tom Riddle."
Slughorn's eyes darted toward Dumbledore, who stood leisurely at the side, his hands behind his back, paying him no heed. The man's throat bobbed as he turned back to Harry, his eyes watery and red as he scooted back into the armchair.
"It is not like that!" Slughorn burst out as Harry took a step toward him. "I support no one! I am just an old man, who wants to live his life in peace, please. I do not want any part in a war!"
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice sharp as a knife. "Horace isn't at fault here. Not completely at least."
"But he's the reason Voldemort's not completely dead, isn't it?" Harry scowled. "The one who told him about Horcruxes."
The blood drained out of Slughorn's face, and he looked paler than Snape in the chandelier's light. "I— I—You—you mustn't assume that I knew what he'd become! I practically told him nothing!"
"But you told him something."
"I already told all I know to Dumbledore last year! I gave you the memory—"
"Horace, I know that the memory you gave me before was tampered with. Even if it was on the go, we both know you're capable enough to pull it, and I, capable of recognizing it." Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look over his spectacles. "It was a fine distinction, but one I recognized. You did not lie, but neither did you give the whole truth."
"See, Mr. Slughorn." Harry put his hands on the chair and leaned forward, nose to nose with Slughorn, staring directly into his eyes. "I do not wish for any unpleasantness. I do not want to hurt you or even scare you, for that matter. But you're stubborn when I need answers. The only reason you aren't in chains with me tearing your mind to shreds is because you were one of my mother's favorite teachers, and she was your favorite student. And I respect your dedication and resourcefulness enough. But my patience has a limit."
A bead of sweat trickled down Slughorn's forehead, and he heaved, his arms against his chest, trembling.
"Voldemort killed my parents. I returned the favor by killing him once as a baby and again, only a few days ago. But despite that, he lived, thanks to whatever you told him." Harry bit out, his voice merciless. "You had no clue what he would do when you told him that. But now you know what he is. Any further information you will withhold will only mean that every person he kills from now on will be blood on your hands. Tell us, and I will do everything to ensure that his death sticks around on the third time."
Slughorn nodded his heavy head, a tear slipping from his watery eyes. "Tom… Tom wanted to know if it was possible to split the soul… seven times. An arithmetically powerful number—the most powerful. He had some calculations, and I looked over them." Slughorn gulped, his eyes darting between Harry and Dumbledore. "I told him that despite his calculations being theoretically correct, the soul is a tricky concept, and I told him he shouldn't go down that path. He… He didn't listen."
Harry glanced at the headmaster, who inclined his head. Harry backed away and sat on his chair, watching Slughorn breathe a sigh of relief.
"What else?" Harry asked. "You arguably knew Tom Riddle the best. We have gathered a lot about him, but we'd like to confirm a few things. Maybe you can help us."
"He—Tom was always interested in the founders. In his eyes, they were the greatest wizards and witches ever. Greater than Merlin himself." Slughorn mumbled. "He once asked me about their items and their legend. The Diadem, the cup of Hufflepuff, the sword of Gryffindor… all of it. He wished to know if they were ever found… if someone owned them, and if they did, who they were."
Slughorn took a deep, shuddering breath. "I entertained him, thinking they were always simple questions of a curious boy. And he loved Hogwarts. Begged me to let him stay over the summer instead of sending him to the dreadful orphanage." Guilt clawed onto Slughorn's face. "Perhaps if I had let him stay… he wouldn't have grown into his hate of muggles."
Dumbledore hung his head and moved to lay a hand on Slughorn's shoulders, squeezing it.
"None of us could've truly anticipated what he went on to become. I saw the darkness in him, but I too let it fester instead of doing something, letting nature run its course. But in the end, despite whatever we might've done, it was his choices that defined him. Now, is there any place you think was important to him in the castle? A place where he could hide something?"
Slughorn twiddled his thumbs, frowning slightly. "He… I don't know. He was always interested in the founders. But the most I ever saw of him was in the common room or the library. He asked me once or twice about the secret rooms of the castle, some from myth and legend."
"Secret rooms." Harry felt his gut twist. "Oh, bloody hell."
"Harry?"
"Professor, I think I know where it is," Harry said, and met Dumbledore's eyes, sending a burst of Legilimency. 'The Room of Requirement. The castle's most powerful secret, created by Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.'
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he nodded. "We are most thankful for your assistance, Horace."
"Wait, what? We're done?" Slughorn blinked.
"We got what we were looking for, Horace. There's no need for further dramatics. We just needed to have you cooperate. You see? Lord Voldemort was defeated at Harry's hands only a couple of days ago. He, of course, didn't completely pass on, due to the little secret, which you will no longer remember."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm truly sorry, Horace."
Harry raised the Elder Wand at the potion's master. "Obliviate."
Slughorn's eyes turned blank, the tension leaving his shoulders. A few moments later, he frowned. "Lily… she was the best potioneer I had laid eyes on in a very long time. She had this intuitive grasp of the subject that I have only seen in a few others. A very few." He smiled at Harry. "Your mother was a brilliant witch."
"I know, sir." Harry nodded.
"Good, good," Slughorn said absently, frowning and turning to Dumbledore. "You were offering me my old position back… Any students you have there like her? If I am to be safe at Hogwarts, I might as well know about the standards now. It's been over a decade since I left."
"Oh, Horace, you'll be surprised to know." Dumbledore beamed. "Her son is more than her match for her brilliance, even if he doesn't appreciate the art as much as he does defense and transfiguration. But it is, perhaps for the best as Harry will be attending your lectures, that is if you decide to teach."
Slughorn looked between the two of them. "Perhaps I will."
"We can iron out the details later."
"I want my old office back. And a pay raise. A hefty one."
"I don't see why we couldn't accommodate that. We'll see you on September first."
12th July 1996
Washington DC, USA
A tall, glittering marble villa rose above the crest of the hill, the MACUSA flag waving tall and proud over its roof. Fountains and elaborate lawns surrounded the house, where black-robed wizards and witches milled, wands held in their hands.
"Was it strictly necessary to throw me under the bus to attend Slughorn's classes? I already have my NEWTs in potions. With an Outstanding at that."
"No, but it was a deal-breaker for a man of Horace's inclination." A spark of mischief hovered in Dumbledore's eyes. "And also a way to get you to keep up with an integral aspect of magic: potion. A good wizard should have a grasp of all the core branches, even if he doesn't particularly enjoy one."
"Well, forgive me, but from the first moment I sat foot in the class, my experience with potions has been horrible." Harry snorted. "But, now that we finally have a competent teacher, why not? I've heard good things about Slughorn as a professor. And you're finally firing Snape, so it's a win-win."
"I am not firing Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "Merely giving him another position."
Harry froze in his tracks, his face twisting into an expression of horror.
"Snape as the DADA teacher!? Professor, you can't let him teach that! Hell, I won't let Snape be the one to take over DADA!"
"Peace, my boy." Dumbledore raised a hand. "Your feud with Professor Snape notwithstanding, he is best suited to teach defense, especially in times as trying as these. No one knows the methods of the Death Eaters better than him."
"And I would still take Lockhart over him. Hell, I would take Quirrel again, that too with Voldemort at the back of his head." Harry scoffed. "Respectfully, sir, this is a bad decision. Snape may be knowledgeable, but he doesn't have a clue about how to teach. And he's an asshole."
"I'm certain Professor Snape will do just fine," Dumbledore's voice turned stern. "And this discussion is over."
"For you, maybe," Harry muttered. "I'm not letting Snape take the subject after me."
Dumbledore said nothing, turning to the villa, eyeing the faint shimmer of wards that thrummed with power.
"Harry, if you may, we have something more prudent to deal with at hand. MACUSA."
"Isn't that the White Castle?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "The most secure place in America, and not to mention, the house of the Magical president of the United States? The direct magical counterpart of the White House?"
"Indeed it is."
"Right. And we are breaking in to threaten the president directly."
"We are. As unpleasant business goes, it is the quickest resolution to this." Dumbledore grimaced. "It wouldn't have been my first resort, but we are short on time, and I, short on patience for those who wish to harm children."
"Wonderful. Just wanted to confirm." Harry removed the Elder Wand from his robes. "Quietly?"
"Extremely so. I shall persuade the President, while you, Harry, can threaten him. If he doesn't resolve the conflict despite our efforts, I'm afraid we'll have to do the same we did with Horace and then let it play out in International court, where we'll be tried for our actions. Legally speaking, our actions violated the law."
"So did MACUSA's. And they broke more rules than we did." Harry scowled. "They broke the charter of wizard rights. That alone should get the case thrown out."
"That will get their claim thrown out. But that doesn't make our actions legal, my boy. We did what was right. Unfortunately, the law is blind to intentions at the best of times."
"So, what happens if we lose?"
"The children will be taken away from Britain and from under our watch to a place the ICW deems safe."
"And you think whatever they'll deem safe won't be safe enough." Harry snorted.
"The safest hands are always our own."
Harry nodded. "One way or another, I am not letting those children get back in their hands, Professor. I'll find out every dirty little secret that MACUSA's hiding and spill them if need be. I will politically destroy the country. I saw what they were doing with the children. I won't let it happen."
"Neither would I, Harry. Neither would I."
12th July 1996
The White Castle
A man stretched lazily, looking up from the stacks of work scattered over his desk, and waved a wand, the papers arranging themselves in neat files, and he put the pen away, pocketing his wand. "I think I'll retire to my quarters now, Jackson."
"Copy that," Jackson raised his wrist. "Thunderbird's heading to the nest. Thunderbird's heading to the nest."
The President sighed and rose from his seat, walking around his desk and out the door, Jackson ahead of him while four more dark-robed wizards and a witch joined him, forming a loose circle.
"Is this needed? I mean, for god's sake, this is my own house."
"President Lee, the Grindelwald protocol is in effect," Jackson said. "We have to assume you're in danger at all times as the First Wizard."
Lee just sighed and continued to make his way through the twisting corridors until he arrived at a set of closed doors. A dark robed officer pulled the door open, and Lee walked in, the rest of the service staying behind before the doors closed.
"Good evening, Lee." A voice sounded, and the President jumped, watching as a shimmer of blue magic covered the walls and the door.
Albus Dumbledore materialized from the shadows, his beard gleaming in the room's yellow light as he smiled, conjuring a chair for himself and taking a seat.
"Please, President Lee. Consider this your own home." A voice growled in his ear, and Lee spun around, meeting burning emerald eyes.
Fear lanced through him, and he took several steps back, his heart drumming in his chest.
"Lee, why don't you take a seat? And please do not bother. The secret service isn't joining us tonight." Dumbledore clasped his hands on his laps. "We must have a talk."
"About what?" He demanded.
"About the future of you and your country, of course. About how we plan to utterly destroy you and leave America only ashes of what it was." A vicious smile curled on Harry's lips. "But more importantly, how you can save it."
AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter!
So, yes, a lot of things have been set into motion! Next, we see Harry and Dumbledore carry out the Horcrux hunt!
As for the President intimidation, I've put it in Ch.87, instead of the next one. ;) If you want to read the chapters ahead right now, do subscribe to my pat-reon, where you can find early chapters to all my fics, short-stories, Side-stories, Lore Compendium and a lot more!
Link: www . pat reon HPFanfictioner66 (Remove spaces)
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Scarlet Nightstalker: Ao3 has an announcement chapter which is 'extra'. If you read the chapters, you'll find them to be the exact same, because the content I paste in the AO3 one is copied from FFN doc only. (It somehow gives problems if I paste from GDocs. Weird, I know. So, I use FFN instead.)
TheSerpent77: True. At times, it does seem the case. But he knows that Grindelwald's method will only bring out bloodshed and tears, nothing more. The Statute of Secrecy was enacted for a reason. And the system, as you call it, was, in some ways, influenced by Salazar and Helga, thanks to Merlin.
WhiteElfElder: He will be now, having been properly killed.
HowlnMadHowie: He'll be at Hogwarts but learning under Dumbledore. He has his NEWTs as of Christmas 1995. He taught for the one term of 1996, and will now begin his apprenticeship under Dumbledore.
Guest: FFN doesn't have an ability to reply to comments like Ao3. I suggest that you shift there instead or merely skip it here, as soon as you see the words: AND DONE!
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Thank you for all your reviews!
A huge thanks to Tulayb for betaing this chapter!
And, before I forget, I now have a BRAND NEW Harry Potter fanfic, BLACK DAWN! The first two chapters are already up on FFN and AO3. Just head to my profile and you'll find it there.
Black Dawn summary: On the night of Halloween 1981, a butterfly flapped its wings, and the world changed. Albus Dumbledore made a different decision, impacting the fate of two of the greatest houses of wizarding Britain, and the dominos began to tumble. For instead of the Dursleys, it was Lord Arcturus Black who took Harry in as his own.
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I hope you all will give it a read.
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