Harry Potter and the Old Believers

Chapter 05

Tuesday, June 27, 1995

Dumbledore questioned Titus Pwy for two hours. At the end of that time, Dumbledore still looked both a little doubtful and a little confused; neither of which were feelings he was very used to any more.

"Well, old friend, since you've run out of things to ask for the moment, let's try some other ways to persuade you." Titus stood and said, "Arch."

Dumbledore stood, a little shakily.

"We can visit my Muggle place, or my valley, or the cottage near the Sefydliad. Choose."

Dumbledore gave a little shrug. "What would each prove? I was just fooled for ten months by the polyjuice potion. How can I trust your just showing up now, after all these years, after thirty-five years of total silence?"

"The first would show you how I spent the last thirty years; the second should remind you how difficult it would be for anyone other than myself to enter my valley and fool the house elves and wyverns; the third would be to meet some instructors at the Sefydliad and members of the Council who have been in contact with me all these years. I would think that those, added to my memories, not my mannerisms, but my memories and the fact that the doors recognized me as faculty -- remember, I took an extended leave of absence, I didn't quit or retire -- might help convince you. Not to mention Fawkes!"

"I have not forgotten any of that. Very well, let us go to the Sefydliad. That might help after all."

Four other people were trying to either think through the problem Pwy posed to them that afternoon, or think how to avoid the problem. Flitwick and McGonagall kept pushing the question out their minds, believing Dumbledore would take care of things. Still, the fact that they had all be fooled by the faux Moody kept bringing the problem back. McGonagall hadn't really known Pwy well, so that problem of his return was mostly that, a problem. Flitwick had a full seven years of training under Pwy, plus special coaching in dueling and charms both while he was a student and afterwards. Pwy had even sponsored him to the Sefydliad, and he and Dumbledore had helped him procure his current position. After all these decades, Pwy remained one of Flitwick's favorite colleagues. Flitwick hoped with all his might that this was indeed the Titus Pwy he had studied under and admired -- they were in need of him.

Draco Malfoy was still angry about the encounter, but could think of nothing to do except become more angry. There wasn't much he could do, except seethe, however; the other Slytherins had become adept over the years in defending themselves from him when Malfoy was in a bad mood. While he would have liked to have written to his father, even in his current emotional state he knew he should wait.

Severus Snape, who was as clever as Draco Malfoy thought himself, did the intelligent thing -- he went to the library. Twenty minutes with the staff photos in the archives showed him that, except for the increase in gray hair, Titus Pwy had really only aged a few years at most in the 29 years he'd spent at Hogwarts. His defeat of at least three Dark Wizards and his dueling championships were noted as well. None of the reference books listed his death. Why did he leave in 1939?

Something clicked in his memory. Pwy was connected with the Old Believers, a large and powerful, somewhat mysterious group descended from the Druids and others in late European and Mediterranean antiquity, who had mostly separated from the wizarding world in the 300s & 400s, and then left for the New World between the 1520s and 1540s. An agent of the Old Believers, simply called the 'Llofrudd,' had hunted down and destroyed the Dark Lord's agents and Death Eaters in North America. Had Grindelwald sent agents to North America, and had Pwy been one or the other Llofrudd who had hunted them down?

'Damn Binns,' Snape thought, 'he's never taught anything useful.' Finally, Snape found it -- a Llofrudd had caught or killed Grindelwald's agents as well. If this was the same man, as unlikely as it seemed. . . . 'Well, I hope I can discuss this with Dumbledore before I have to meet with the Dark Lord next Sunday.'

Snape shivered at the thought of that up-coming interview. Then he remembered something else; Tom Riddle had attended Hogwarts from 1937 through 1944, and had served Grindelwald for nearly two years. 'This is getting too interesting.'

Titus listened to Dumbledore tell the tale of Harry Potter all Tuesday night, Wednesday morning, and into early Wednesday afternoon, asking questions that drove Dumbledore into more and more details. Then, he thought.

Wednesday night, he asked Dumbledore to arrange for him to meet with Hermione Granger. He needed a little more information, and Titus thought she was the most likely to be able to provide it, and was unlikely to say anything to anyone.

"Miss Granger, this is Doctor Titus Pwy. He needs to talk with you about Harry. I assure you he has my highest confidence." Dumbledore bowed, and left them alone in a small sitting room Hermione had never been near before. She couldn't know it, but it was in fact part of Pwy's suite of rooms, as he'd left it in 1939.

It looked, she decided, a bit time-worn; more like a well-kept museum exhibit than a real room. Many fifteen year old girls, put alone into the presence of a good-looking, macho, over-whelming (apparently) 28 year old male, might be shy or intimidated. Hermione Granger was neither; after her infatuation with Professor Lockhart her second year, she was not to be put off by such things. Having appraised the room, she merely looked at Titus, waiting.

"Ms Granger, I need to ask you some questions. If you prefer not to answer some of them, I will understand. However, I must ask you to be totally honest with me. If you have information you are not going to give me, please inform me that you are giving me incomplete information. I will not hold it against you."

This was an unusual approach; one that Hermione appreciated. "All right."

"Has Mister Potter told you the details of what happened last Saturday night?"

"No."

"What has he told you?"

"Specifically, nothing. He knows we know that Pettigrew . . . you know who. . . ?" Hermione trailed off a little.

"Yes, I know about him, including the story of Scabbers."

"We know that Pettigrew took blood from Harry, and that somehow it was used to reanimate He-Who-Must, well, Voldemort." Hermione was not about to beat around the facts in this situation. She noticed the man didn't flinch at the name.

"Go on."

"Either Pettigrew or Voldemort or some other supporter killed Cedric Diggory. Harry somehow escaped, bringing Cedric's body back with him."

"Go on."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds in thought before answering. "Well, how did Cedric and Harry get transported back and forth? Obviously, the Tri-Wizard Cup was a port-key, planted by. . . ."

She was still testing him, Pwy realized. "Barty Crouch the Younger, impersonating Alastor Moody. Go on."

"But for both of them to be port-keyed, they must have reached it as a tie, which I can't believe, unless. . .unless they agreed to a tie."

"Very good. Go on."

"Which would be one reason Harry feels so guilty."

"Anything else?" Pwy was surprised.

"No, not really."

"How would your friend feel if I told you the complete story?"

Hermione sighed. "He wouldn't like it. So, I guess that means you shouldn't tell me."

Pwy nodded. "I won't, then; at least not at the moment. Now, you leave for home Friday for just over two months. Tell me, what does your friend need over that period?"

"Support, friendship, affection, and love." Hermione paused, then blurted out, "None of which he's going to get where he's going!"

"All four from you, then?"

Hermione blushed. "I thought about it a little earlier this year, but no. Support and friendship, yes. Unconditionally. Affection and love? Of a sort, but probably not the kinds he needs."

Pwy was a little astonished at the girl's intense feelings. Harry Potter certainly had inspired at least one very loyal friend. "Does he love someone?"

Hermione shook her mass of hair. "Love? No. He is fond of his godfather, and he feels at home with the Weasleys, though."

"I know all about his godfather. Does someone love him?" Hermione blushed again. "Who?"

"Ginny Weasley." Hermione's eyes widened; she couldn't believe she'd said that.

"Would she be good for him?"

Hermione could only nod.

"Does he at least like her as a person?"

Hermione nodded again.

"You don't think much of your friend's guardians, do you?"

Hermione sneered in such a way that would have shocked most people who knew her. "No; they are the epitome of mundane nastiness."

Titus gave a snort of laughter. "I like that."

"Why does he have to stay with them? The Weasleys would have him." Hermione was almost pleading.

Pwy stayed impassive, professorial in fact. "I'm sure it's still Fifth year material, but do you know what the strongest type of natural magical protection is?"

"Blood ties," Hermione said reluctantly.

"Very good. Well, there's your answer, at least in general. Now, I must ask you not to reveal this conversation to anyone, except the Headmaster, should he ask the contents. Mister Potter must go to the Dursleys, in order to invoke the power, for their sakes as well as his. However, I am thinking of alternatives for later this summer. I cannot promise you anything, but if we pursue any of them, you and Ron Weasley will be informed."

"Thank you. May I ask you something?"

"Certainly." It was only fair, after all.

"Are you related to the Titus Pwy who wrote the basic Defense curriculum we're using?"

Pwy was surprised, and it showed. "You may say so, Ms Granger. I look forward to talking with you in the future, if events allow."

Hermione Granger tried to shake an unimaginable idea out of her intelligent and attractive head as she left the room, but it refused to be dislodged. After all, she'd come across far odder things these last few years. She went straight to the library and unknowingly replicated the same research Professor Snape had done Tuesday afternoon, although in only three-quarters the time. She came to similar conclusions.

For her, it was a slight ray of hope rather than concern.

She also managed to convince Madam Pince to let her check out three more books for the summer. She left just before Professor Snape returned to do more research.

01/07/95

Dear Ron:

I was surprised to get see Pig last night. I mean, it was just a few hours since we saw each other off at the Station.

Look, Ron, lay off Viktor. I mean it! I thought yesterday morning settled that. I am not going to Bulgaria. With 'You-know-who' back and Harry still feeling the affects of the last trial, I would have to be madly in love with Viktor to want to go. I don't love Viktor. Harry needs us. Please send him a note once you get this back. I wish I had an owl; I love Crookshanks, but we both need to be in contact with Harry, as well as each other, now more than ever. Those awful people certainly won't do him any good (please don't refer to them as 'awful Muggles' again -- they are awful and they are Muggles, but the two terms shouldn't go together; they're just awful people).

Please seal the attached with your letter to Harry; I'll just add the parchment, so you and Ginny can add to it if you want before sealing it.

love, your friend
Hermione

'I must be nearly hysterical to write such a badly-written note,' Hermione thought to herself. 'Maybe it will get through to Ron that way,' she added, smiling.

01/07/95

Dear Harry

I hope things are not too awful for you. I did some research on protection spells, and thought you should know about my conclusions. It seems that some very old and powerful protection spells can be cast over families where a child is in direct danger, even if the child is in danger from another blood relative. However, the protection works both ways. In short, being at the Dursleys protects you from Voldemort (despite his use of your blood), but it also protects the Dursleys as well! The reason you have to go back every year is to regenerate the power. I know you have no reason to like them, but I also know you don't want anything bad to happen to them.

If they were normal people, they'd be grateful to you, but somehow, I think they'd just hold this against you, too. Still, I thought you should know.

love from
Hermione

Harry -- I hope you're ok. Fred and George are a bit manic, they seem to be about to explode with some secret but they haven't told (or exploded) yet. Hermione said in her letter to me that she wasn't going to Bulgaria! Hope to see you later this summer. I'll start bugging Mum and Dad to start asking Dumbledore for permission to have you over in a week or so.

Ron

Harry, I'll start asking Mum and Dad, too. Have a good summer; please write Hermione and Ron so we'll know you're ok, ok? I hope we'll see you soon. yours Ginny.

July 4, 1995
1:45 am

Voldemort removed the curse he'd only used on his victim for a few seconds, despite his anger. He wanted this to last. "So, my professor finally returns. And over a week late. Tell me, why shouldn't I kill you now?"

"I come with information, my Lord."

"Do you? How interesting. Why were you not with me when I summoned you?"

"I could not get away without attracting attention, my Lord. That was your command to me before. . . ." Severus Snape trailed off, uncertain how to end that statement.

"And what of Karkaroff?"

"We were both standing next to Ministry officials, my Lord."

"And is he as loyal as you, my dear professor?"

Snape had to think quickly and clearly, and made a choice he hated having to make -- but he made it. "I know he was arrested and imprisoned as a Death Eater. I've been told he informed against me, but I don't know if that's true. Since there was no other evidence they had to release me."

"I see. What is this information, which you hope may spare your life?"

"Do you remember Doctor Titus Pwy, my Lord?"

"Of course. He was an extraordinarily powerful, if mis-guided, professor." Voldemort put a real sting in the last word.

"He may have returned."

Voldemort didn't see the point of that information. "So what? He must be a hundred and five or ten by now."

"A hundred and twenty three, but he doesn't look it."

"Really? I grant you, it surprises me a little that he is fifteen years older than I thought, but how old does he look now?" Voldemort was willing to play along for the moment, to tease his victim into thinking more punishment wasn't coming.

"Twenty-eight to thirty."

"What are you babbling about?" Voldemort asked sharply.

Snape was allowed to show Voldemort copies of three photographs, one showing Pwy in 1911, one in 1939, and one the previous Tuesday (Snape was grateful that the photographer who had captured Malfoy pinned to the wall had been a Slytherin Sixth year, not the pesky Gryffindor Third year). He also explained his theory that Pwy was the agent who hunted down Grindelwald's and Voldemort's agents in North America.

"How?" Voldemort whispered finally. "How can it be him?"

Snape had thought about that as well. He'd found the information just after Hermione had left the library. "In the spring of Eighteen-ninety, fifteen senior Alchemy students at the Ysgol were doing their senior project. They apparently were not well-supervised, since they were trying to make a sorcerer's stone."

"Ah. I see."

Avery stepped forward. "My Lord?"

"Yes, little bird?"

"May. . .may we know, Lord? We are not well-versed in that sort of magic."

"Explain, Professor."

"I doubt if more than three or four wizards in these Islands have any good idea of how to even start to make a Stone. I certainly don't. What I do know is that at any stage the material can maim or kill those trying to create it. Well, there was an explosion that killed fourteen of the fifteen; all except Pwy. If that happened towards the last stages, he might have absorbed part of the Stone's power."

"Sounds rather iffy," Avery snarled.

"It is. It may all be a trick by Dumbledore. But, if it is Pwy, he defeated two or three powerful Dark Wizards and won international dueling competitions over ninety years ago and may have taken out some excellent agents, including your uncle and older brother! And he may be a hundred and twenty-three, but I assure you he still has the reflexes and build of a twenty-five year old athlete! As for power, McGonagall and Flitwick both claim he's more powerful than Dumbledore. He affixed young Malfoy to a wall for mindlessly insulting him with wandless magic so powerful I couldn't abolish the hex, and you should know, Avery," he finished with a sneer he hoped would not be his last, "that I'm much more powerful than you."

"Silence! Lucius told me a slightly different version, with no names, but I admit I do not see the old man allowing casual visitors assault students, even the heir of Malfoy, for no good reason."

Voldemort halted for a moment, then continued in a softer voice. "I control the essential power of magic as we now know it, but that magic is young. We have only hints of the Old Magic. Even the magic of Egypt, Mesopotamia, India, and China only came close to the powers of the Old Ones when they were in Europe, or the practitioners of the Old Arts in North America and Australia today. No Dark Wizard has ever succeeded in making a dent in either strong hold -- the Old Believers are our greatest dangers in the long run. If this is Pwy or not, he may have both the power of our magic and of the Old Magic. And if it is the Doctor, he has had over a century to perfect it." That though made Voldemort hesitate for a second. "Power increases slowly with age, but the infirmities of age sap other powers even as mastery increases with practice. The old man is old in body as well as power, which at best balances him. More likely, he is decreasing. Power is not consistent until the twenties; the boy has huge abilities, but no mastery, just like his father. Pwy adds a complication I had not foreseen."

No one dared even breath loudly.

Finally, Voldemort said, "Avery, Malfoy, you each have two weeks to submit your plans to me in writing. Think of every detail, every contingency. Plan well, or else. Ignore Pwy; I shall consider him when I decide which direction I want to go in."

He turned to Snape. "I should kill you anyway, for helping to deny me the only known Sorcerer's Stone. You should have realized by the end it was me and stayed out of my way! But I will spare you until Christmas. Kill Dumbledore or Potter or both! I don't care how you do it. Kill or be killed. If you can kill Pwy, do that, too, but don't concentrate on him. He is still an unknown. Understand?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Hold out your left arm."

Snape did so, then screamed as Voldemort's wand touched it. "You will receive no more summons to me. When you have succeeded, you may cast the Dark Mark against where my Mark appeared on you, and you will find me. Now, go or die!"

Snape went.

In a small suburb in Surrey, Harry Potter woke up, and quickly wrote down his vision.