Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood
Characters:
Harry Potter Hermione Granger Luna Lovegood
Genres:
Action Drama
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 08/10/2005
Updated: 01/24/2006
Words: 106,949
Chapters: 33
Hits: 137,035

Companions of the White Warlock

DrT

Story Summary:
Year seven of the HBP-compliant story (on Dark Arts) 'Smoke'. Harry, Hermione, and Ron go after the remaining Horcruxes, aided by Luna, Ginny, Neville, Remus, Tonks, and Professor Russell.

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary:
Year 7 of the HBP-compliant story (on Dark Arts) 'Smoke'. Harry, Hermione, and Ron go after the remaining Horcruxes, aided by Luna, Ginny, Neville, Remus, Tonks, and Professor Russell.
Posted:
11/07/2005
Hits:
3,678
Author's Note:
Harry has meetings: first with his Council and then Ollivander, and then he starts a meeting with an ancient and powerful warlock.



Smoke Year VII - Companions of the White Warlock
Chapter XI
Tuesday, August 12, 1997

The evening after Ginny's birthday, Harry called together his entire council, plus Professor McGonagall, Alastor Moody, and Arthur Weasley.

"Ron, Hermione, and I have been working very hard these last few weeks," Harry said. "I know we're not ready to directly confront Voldemort, or any of the stronger Death Eaters. However, it is time we left the confines of Hogwarts. Voldemort seems to be holding back. Still, we can't leave all the initiative to him."

He turned to Arthur. "How is the Ministry doing?"

"It's doing what it does fairly well," Arthur replied. "That is, it has dug through the accounts and estates of all the convicted Death Eaters, especially the Malfoys, and are picking up those assets. The Minister and the Senior Heads are pleased, because at this rate we can easily double our efforts for the next four years and still keep taxation at the current low rates. I know that sounds . . . trivial and venal, but even at the height of the last war, there were well-off and powerful sections of our magical community here who were neutral. As long as we keep their taxes low and You-Know, well, Riddle, doesn't directly threaten them, they won't take either side."

Harry frowned, but merely said, "Anything else?"

"There have been a number of reports of possible groups in Central and Eastern Europe which might prove fertile recruitment grounds for Riddle," Arthur replied. "They've been sent on to John and Miss Lovegood. The Ministry has formally signed the agreement with the centaurs and the one that the centaurs arranged with the merpeople -- they want nothing to do with us, but will hinder and likely attack any of Riddle's forces which threaten Hogwarts as well as themselves. The giants and vampires remain neutral, and the main werewolf packs in Europe have denounced the werewolves that followed Riddle. Still, who can say what any of them might do if Riddle gains the upper hand?"

"True," Harry said. "Anything else?"

"The goblins are the most conciliatory they've ever been," Arthur answered in a pleased voice. "They like having a White Warlock around, as it keeps the various Ministries off-balance."

"Any progress on the elf front?" Harry asked.

"The elf-abuse legislation is coming along slowly," Arthur admitted. "Still, it's going better than I had anticipated. The fact that pure house elf slavery was abolished in the Americas, Australia, and New Zealand over a hundred years ago helped."

"Dobby?"

"House elves are divided," Dobby admitted. "House elves with good masters see no reason to change, but will follow the law."

"Good. Headmistress?"

"It's taken quite a bit of persuasion, but I am happy to say that all sixty of the prospective First years have agreed to come, as have all but three of the Second through Fifth years. The announcement of your new position no doubt influenced some of them, and Mister Ollivander's return helped a bit as well."

Harry turned to Moody. "Did Ollivander tell you anything?" He and McGonagall had sent the old auror to see the mysterious wand-maker.

"Aye, he said a fair bit," Moody said. "It's been many a decade since I was so fluently cursed out, and then told to mind my own business in Greek as well as English."

"Should I try and make some time to talk with him then?" Harry asked the group.

'It can't hurt,' was the consensus.

"The new courses for Second years have also been approved," McGonagall said. There would be a course in 'Living with Muggles' for the magically-raised and one on 'Magical Traditions' for the Muggle-raised. "Professor Slughorn has agreed to supervise the potions-contest and work with Professors Lupin and Flitwick to supervise a proper dueling club. The DA will work on more . . . interesting tactics, and that will be open to Fourth and Fifth years."

"Great," Harry said with a smile. "Prof?"

"I have finally made contact with the only known expert on Horcruxes outside of Tibet," Russell said. "He lives on the northwestern coast of Italy, near the French border. He sent word that he will see you and me any time in the afternoon any day next week. I have directions."

Harry nodded. "Good. Will you, Luna, and Hermione prepare a brief for us, so that I know what I need to ask?" All three nodded.

"Fred and George?"

"Your 'special products' are on schedule," George said.

"We sent the invoices for the materials to Tonks, not that we've had any problems getting anything," Fred added.

"Good. Luna?"

"I have translated another section of the Headmaster's notes, and coordinated them with the memories you left in the pensieve of your meetings with the Headmaster. I didn't find anything important, but I did turn some material over to Hermione last week."

"Hermione?"

"I got my mother to do some digging for us. There were eight-three children who spent more than a few weeks in that orphanage at the same time that Riddle did, and there were twelve staff. All the staff are dead but one -- and many of them died under questionable circumstances."

"Riddle killed them?" Ginny asked.

"Possibly," Hermione answered. "There was the largest Muggle war in history going on during this period, remember. Four deaths were attributed to the bombings of London, but they all occurred separately in 1944 and 1945, rather late in the war, but it could have been coincidence. I'm pretty certain one of the others, who had been dismissed for being too rough on the children and who narrowly avoided being arrested for it, was killed by Riddle or by his orders in 1948. He was dismembered, and there were no obvious cut marks."

"And the children?" Tonks asked.

"Eighteen of them met violent deaths," Hermione answered. "Thirty-six of the others are also dead. The Headmaster spoke to twenty-four of those fifty-four before their deaths. Of the remaining twenty-nine, fifteen were under seven when Riddle left the orphanage. The Headmaster had, however, spoken with them anyway, and from his notes they had little to say and none remembered much about Riddle at all since he was only there during the summers, although the older children used his name to frighten the younger ones."

"Quite the impression he made," Ron said drily.

"And the other fourteen?" Harry asked.

"Five boys and nine girls," Hermione said. "The Headmaster managed to track down the five boys and three of the girls. Their evidence didn't amount to much. I have the married names and addresses of eight of the remaining nine. Four are in Britain, and there is one each in Ireland, the United States, Canada, and Australia. I also have the addresses of the younger orphans, on the off chance they heard anything from any of the older orphans they might have stayed in contact with."

"Any leads on the ninth?" Harry asked.

"Not really. She is younger than Riddle, born in 1935 and orphaned in 1940 during the Blitz of London. An aunt from Canada showed up for her in the spring of 1941. I doubt if she ever even saw Riddle, since he would have been in school the whole time she was there. There are some discrepancies in the information I have on these children, too. Some of the files were damaged during the War and only partially pieced together."

"There must be Muggle agencies who can trace her," Harry said.

"There are," Hermione retorted. "That's how we got the other addresses."

"Keep them on the missing girl anyway," Harry said. "Meanwhile, could you, Tonks, and Ron go see the other eight and any of the younger ones you can run down?"

"Even the ones overseas?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry answered. He turned to Tonks. "Make certain you use a glamor on them. They should look to be in their early thirties."

"Not a problem," Tonks assured him.

"Does anyone else have anything?" Since they didn't, Harry dismissed the meeting.



Thursday, August 14, 1997

Harry walked down Diagon Alley in disguise -- a powerful glamor which few could even detect, let alone see through. Despite a few objections, he was basically alone, although Tonks and Russell were not far away.

Harry entered Ollivander's as soon as he was certain that the shop was empty. A distraction spell on the entrance would assure him privacy from anyone wanting to purchase a wand.

Mr. Ollivander was standing in the shelves, restocking the wands rejected by the little girl who had just left. He did not turn, merely saying, "Just one moment, please." He came out front smiling a few moments later. "Ah, good morning, my lord. I was wondering if you would be paying me a visit, or requesting a meeting."

Harry canceled his glamor. "Should I ask how you knew it was me?"

The old man shrugged. "A natural wand maker can detect the most subtle traces of magic. I suppose I should have taken into consideration that Tom Riddle might be paying a visit, or that Albus Dumbledore might not really be dead, but I thought a glamor so powerful was most likely you."

"I suppose I shouldn't complain that you saw the glamor," Harry admitted.

Ollivander smiled, but as usual the smile did not seem to reach his eyes. "Few could detect it."

"Did you refuse to speak with Moody just to get me here?" Harry asked.

"I did not refuse to speak with Alastor, I merely refused to answer his questions," Ollivander said with a shrug. "It is not quite the same thing."

"May I ask you some other questions?" Harry asked.

"You may."

"What kind of wands did my parents first have?"

"Ah," Ollivander said with a more genuine smile. "A reasonable way to establish my identity. And with that, Ollivander answered Harry's inquiries about 30 different wands, which left Harry satisfied as to the old man's identity.

"Now will you tell me what you wouldn't tell Moody?" Harry asked.

"I suppose I cannot totally get away with saying nothing," Ollivander admitted. "Few know what I am going to tell you. Alastor did not know, for example, and he has a knack of knowing things he should not. Still, you should know, I suppose. Diagon Alley is in many ways a self-contained world, my lord. Your two bumptious business partners have only just started to appreciate that. The two main leaders of the community, in some ways, are myself and Florean Fortescue, as we are direct male descendants from two of the major founders of the Alley and have acquired the other keys of the Alley through nearly a thousand years of intermarriage between the business leaders. I do not mean in terms of the politics, I mean in terms of magic. He and I hold the keys to most of the wards set on the Alley, other than those around the bank and the Leaky Cauldron. Representations came to us from various . . . business people, mostly but not entirely from the Knockturn Alley people. We decided it would be better to disappear. Mister Fortescue should be back in a day or two."

"And the reason why you couldn't tell Moody this?"

"It is none of Alastor Moody's business, as he seemed to represent himself, or perhaps the Ministry or this vague 'Order of the Phoenix'. As I said, I have to admit that you have a right to know."

Harry thought a moment, and said, "If you really didn't know, the Order of the Phoenix may be considered in many ways an extension of my organization."

"I knew it was Albus', I did not know for certain that it held for you," Ollivander replied. "Now I do."

"And the reason why I should trust you?" Harry asked. "You've always seems a rather . . . ambiguous person to me."

"In what way?"

"The first time we met," Harry said, looking into Ollivander's disquieting eyes, "you said Voldemort did great things; terrible, but great."

"Judging him only on the quality of his magic, which is a proper way to gauge another wizard, especially if he is an opponent, he is great, perhaps even stronger than Albus Dumbledore," Ollivander replied. "A thousand years from now, he will still be a well-studied wizard, my lord, just for the elegance of his magic. His evil will be a footnote."

"It's not 'just a footnote' now," Harry pointed out.

"True," Ollivander replied. "Florean and I are scholars as well as tradesmen, my lord. That detachment allowed us to understand the threat, rather than brazen things out and have that cost this community it's freedom from total terror. We knew we could not trust our protection to the Ministry, to Albus Dumbledore, or even to the community. You are giving more direct leadership than Albus ever did, and so the community is rallying around. That we can work with, and help provide safety for us all."

"And you couldn't do that last summer?" Harry demanded.

Ollivander smiled. "No one would follow Florean or myself into battle, even to defend themselves, my lord, let alone Fudge or even the current Minister. Dumbledore would not really lead the community, for reasons I still do not understand. You will, and are. Therefore, the system, poorly constructed as it is, will now work."

And with that, Harry had to be content.



Monday, August 18, 1997

Hermione, Tonks, and Ron came down the stairs of the small block of flats in the East End of London. "Well, that was a waste of time," Ron complained softly, keeping his eyes peeled.

This was not as bad a neighborhood as many in this area of London were. Still, it was a poor neighborhood, a mixed area of solid working class Londoners of all kind -- old families of English and Irish as well as newer families from all over the old Empire. Ron could smell strange cooking and hear even stranger music. There were Muggle sounds, from blaring radios and televisions and the traffic from outside.

He had never realized how strange, how different, how (to be honest)frightening the everyday urban Muggle world was to him. He was only slightly surprised at how easily Hermione took this in stride. This area of London was very different from the posh neighborhood of Norwich he had visited a few times in late June and early July. He was even more surprised at how easily Tonks moved through this world.

"This was just the first visit," Hermione reproved. "We have to cover all these people, even if there isn't anything to find. We have to be certain, one way or the other."

Ron sighed. "I know."

"And then we can cover the ones who were too young to really know Riddle personally," Hermione stated.

"Why did Harry want us to?" Ron asked.

"Riddle was probably a pretty memorable kid at that orphanage," Tonks mused, which made Hermione nod her head. "There were probably stories about him circulating when he wasn't there, and some of these people probably talked to each other long after they left the institution."

"Exactly. We cover everyone," Hermione said.



Tuesday, August 19, 1997

"Pretty coastline, isn't it?" Russell asked.

"Beautiful," Harry said breathlessly. "When all this is over, I think I need to take a few years off just to travel."

"Well, I don't know about two or three years straight, but I can see you doing a fair amount of travel on and off for a few years," Russell agreed.

The pair was in a yacht, which Russell has rented and was running by magic teaching Harry how to do so as they went. They had left London on Sunday, taking a Muggle jet to Marseilles and then a limousine to Monaco. The previous day, they apparated to the small French sea-side village of St. Ludovic. Just before dawn, they had boarded the yacht and moved out to sea. By now, they had just passed San Remo.

"How much further?" Harry asked, noticing that the coastline wasn't heavily populated, to say the least.

"It should be right ahead," Russell said, squinting.

Harry picked up his omnoculars and looked ahead. "There's a white temple and a set of buildings just this side of that small hill," Harry said pointing.

"That should be it," Russell said, steering the yacht in that direction.

"Can you tell me about this person yet?" Harry asked. "There's some reason or fact you haven't wanted to tell me."

Russell sighed. "According to my sources, Voldemort wasn't the first to create multiple Horcruxes after all."

Harry frowned. "This person?"

"Supposedly, dating back a few thousand years by the few accounts. He's dealt with any number of vampires over the millennia."

"I take it he's not some loony who wants to take over the world, then," Harry commented drily.

"Apparently not," Russell agreed.

"But he must be a murderer, or at least a killer," Harry pointed out.

"By definition . . . yes," Russell admitted. "Still, he's ready to talk with us. I had never heard of him, and I don't think Albus had, either."

"And you can trust him?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Russell said firmly. "As I've said, he has dealt with various vampire communities for millennia, and I've dealt with them for over forty years. They say he can be trusted, but that he's very dangerous if crossed."

"So am I," Harry stated.



Twenty minutes later, the yacht was secured to an ancient but well-kept stone dock. It took Harry a few moments to regain his land-legs after hours of bobbing on the water.

"Good afternoon," came a pleasant voice with an Irish accent. Harry looked around, and saw a very attractive red-head, some five-foot four, perhaps a little younger than thirty, and incredibly well-built. This was very apparent, because the woman was only wearing a very thin light green, translucent silk slip and what could barely be classified as sandals. It was also very clear, since the sun was behind her slightly, that these were the only things she was wearing.

"My lord is waiting for you," the woman said. "Please follow me."

Following her was a distinct pleasure.

They moved off the dock and took a path that led up the hill that was off the beach. The path was hidden from the sea by the tall trees that were between the beach and the hill, a space of about thirty yards. Russell was more impressed than Harry, as he recognized the marble and bronze statuary that lined the path as genuine antiquities, dating from various bronze-age cultures in the Eastern Mediterranean through the classical period to the most florid Hellenistic period to the late Roman.

Harry was busy watching the swaying hips of the figure in front of them.

Both men's eyes strayed from what they had been looking at as they gained the top of the hill. There was a small Etruscan-style temple to their far left and a complex of buildings to their right. In front of them was a small pool, where what Russell would describe to Moody as a 'bevy of beauties' were sunning themselves nude -- twenty-three women from between the ages of 18 and 40, representing all types, but all attractive, especially to Harry.

"Our lord is awaiting you," the Irish woman said sternly. Harry and Russell tore their eyes from the women, who had ignored their presence.

The red-head led them to one of the buildings. Russell realized that there were four houses, all in the classic ancient Mediterranean style, built around courtyards and revealing very little to the outside world. They entered a Roman atrium, complete right down to the shrine for the penates and lares.

"My lord is in the library, as it is cool," the woman said. It was only then that Harry realized how warm he had become from the hike up the hill.

The woman gestured the pair into the library, where a figure arose from a chair to greet them.