Harry Potter and the Old Believers

Chapter 11

Saturday, October 7, 1995

Harry Potter leaned forward in the large, swirling Jacuzzi, letting Ginny's hands slowly rub his back. Across from him, Hermione was massaging Ron, although Harry tried, with great difficulty, to block that out of his mind -- Hermione wasn't just wearing a two piece bathing suit, like she and Ginny wore the previous summer. Hermione had just started wearing a string thong bikini, mostly, Harry thought, to watch his and Ron's eyes bug out and to watch Ron drool and stutter like an idiot. After all, it seemed to be nearly all string, and thin string at that.

Titus Pwy claimed he had created this luxurious area for his own fun back before World War I, but had given the quartet the password. Ron didn't mind sharing the spa with Ginny and Harry, because that meant they were in their bathing suits and just relaxing. Ron was really afraid that the pair might also be doing what he and Hermione were doing when alone in the area. There were some nice sofas in one of the rooms.

They were, but knew enough not to let Ron know. Hermione had simply asked Pwy to provide her with two large boxes of condoms, and she'd simply given one to Ginny. "Considering how many Weasleys there are," she'd said (there were three Weasley cousins among the First year Gryffindors, plus one in Ravenclaw, with many more coming in the following years) "we're NOT going to rely just on the spells." Especially since the safe potions required signed permissions.

Harry tried to make himself totally relax. So far, school had been the best it ever had been for him. Granted, all his classes were more intense than ever, due to the up-coming O.W.L.s. Granted, he could not longer doze in the History of Magic. Granted, his morning runs and three times a week weight-training, weekly martial arts session, and Quidditch practices left him both tired and well-trained. What little time he had left after work-outs and home work was spent alone with Ginny or with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, studying. No time for adventures so far this term. Fortunately, the meditation techniques he was still working on helped him focus and helped him relax enough to sleep better than he had since the middle of his third year. His dreams since his birthday tended to focus on Ginny, rather than Voldemort, which also led him to sleeping better.

It also helped that all his classes were really interesting. Even Potions was tolerable. Snape still didn't like him, but apparently felt that, his cover as a Death Eater all but destroyed anyway, there was no reason to torture Harry like he had the first four years. So while he was still nasty to all Gryffindors, he had toned things down a bit. The potions themselves were actually useful and interesting -- household potions that they would likely be using for the rest of their lives. The O.W.L. practical would involve brewing pepper-up or some similar potion.

Herbology and Astronomy had never really held Harry's interest very well in previous years, but he was enjoying learning the theory behind the subjects this year, especially astronomy. A Dursley cousin had subscribed to several scientific magazines for Dudley the year before, obviously under the impression that Aunt Petunia's judgement of Dudley's genius was an accurate assessment. Harry had taken over the stack of magazines, and had then subscribed himself to them (they were sent to a special post service that then re-mailed them to Hogwarts via owl, and his new Gringotts' account included a Muggle checkbook). The astronomy magazines actually had some material that were more in advance of what was in their text books, and Harry became a class stand-out. (After Hermione, of course -- it turned out she'd been subscribing to the same magazines since the age of nine. The few other students in their year interested in Astronomy were Pure-Blooded Slytherins and Ravenclaws.)

Harry had usually been one of the fastest in his year in understanding the material in Charms and Defense, and had always wound up out-doing even Hermione in the Defense practicals in the end of the year exams. His meditation focusing techniques had greatly improved his transfiguration skills; he now stood third in his year in practical Transfiguration.

History was harder (if finally interesting), but Harry was not about to let Remus Lupin down. Remus' life was also easier than it had been two years before -- Sirius was pardoned, Harry was closer to both men, and Titus was the first wizard Remus had encountered who was both powerful enough and knowledgeable enough to catch the transformation as it started and prevent it (Dumbledore had never had the chance to learn the spell before, but was now, as was Harry). It was painful, but no more so than the actual full transformation was in either direction, and it only happened once every full moon rather than back and forth each time. (And that both meant the wolf wouldn't attack itself when not under the Wolfbane potion, and that Remus wouldn't have to half-poison himself with the Potion.)

Hagrid was back, the giants agreeing to at least temporary neutrality. They saw that Voldemort was unlikely to really be of any long-term benefit to them. So, they weren't going to aid the Dark Lord, but neither were they interested in helping the wizards or Muggles. While Hagrid did have a fire crab that the Third, Fourth, and Sixth years had to deal with, the Fifth and Seventh years were learning how to treat and care for the common magical household pets (puffskeins, kneazles, crups, augurys and, since Hagrid had to have at least some somewhat troublesome animals, fwoopers and ghouls), since that material appeared on the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Hagrid himself was seeing Madam Maxime -- he had finally been allowed to again own a wand and learn to apparate, which meant the quartet often found their friend was visiting or being visited.

Even Divination was interesting this year. The entire year was devoted to tarot cards. While learning the various spreads and meanings was tedious, at least the interpretations were more straightforward.

Harry felt himself relax under Ginny's massaging fingers. Then, he felt himself moving away from himself; Voldemort was screaming in anger.

"You idiot!" he was screaming at a young man Harry recognized as Marcus Flint. "How can you just bring a box in here, when you can't even tell us who gave it to you! Crucio!"

As Flint screamed in agony, a silvery cloud rose from the small cube. The entire room fell silent, except for the sobbing Flint, as the cloud condensed into a human form.

Harry recognized the form first -- Titus Pwy.

The figure rotated, until it spied Voldemort. "Ah, the so-called Lord Voldemort. Don't blame the idiot I gave this to too much. All your followers are too feeble-minded to resist the simple trick."

"That's one of your problems, Mister Riddle." Pwy sounded just as he did in class, when pointing out something that he thought the class should have easily understood. "You can't have too competent of followers; they'd be as likely to betray you to take over your position as you were, when you betrayed Grindelwald to take over his."

That garnered Voldemort some sideways looks, no doubt by those whose families had followed Grindelwald. Even Malfoy was giving his Master an odd look.

"And what are you going to take over?" Pwy continued, scorn now in his voice. "The world? You've been trying and failing to take over Britain, one tiny part of the world, on and off for the last thirty years. Young Harry Potter beat you directly twice -- not a shadow of you, but you -- once due to his Muggle-born mother's power of protection, and then in June, when his untrained strength over-powered your will and magic. If you can't beat a fourteen year old boy, how can you take over Britain?"

The Death Eaters were trying to destroy the image, without success.

"And if, by some miracle, you took over Britain, would the remaining ninety-nine percent of the world just stand back? I tell you right now, the day after you take over Britain, the Old Believers will declare war. It won't be Dumbledore and Harry Potter you're fighting, but people like me, people like Dumbledore as he was when he defeated Grindelwald, multiplied by over a hundred. You will never hold power -- you can kill and massacre, but you will never hold power. You're too far behind the times, boy; the world is too interconnected for your kind to take over. And you can no more disperse this image than a Muggle can disperse your Dark Mark with a hand fan."

"As for your other dream, immortality, it's also just a dream. You may extend your life for centuries or even millennia if you give up your dreams of power, but sooner or later the Earth will end, the universe will end. You will cease to exist in this world at some point -- face it like a man, not a coward. In my opinion, you will cease soon."

Pwy smiled. "Good bye, Mister Riddle. I will see you soon; you may not see me." The figure disappeared.

Voldemort looked at Flint. "Avada kedarva!"

Harry slumped forward, and realized he was out of the Jacuzzi, and was in Ginny's lap being hugged while Hermione dried him with a towel.

"Where's Ron?" he muttered.

"He went to get Dumbledore and Doc," Hermione. "Want to get dressed before they show up?"

"Good idea." Harry smiled. "You might want your robe, too. Dumbledore's not that young any more."

Hermione saw where Harry was looking, and that she had fallen out of her top. She blushed.

Dumbledore did not look overly pleased. Pwy smiled at him. "Problem, Headmaster?" The two were sitting in Dumbledore's office, along with Lupin, Snape, Black, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Bill Weasley.

"Why did you send that message?" Dumbledore asked angrily. He was not used to facing an equally powerful ally, as opposed to a subordinate.

Pwy gave a casual shrug. "Voldemort has been too quiet. He's obviously planning something. Why shouldn't we throw him a few curve balls to distract him?"

"A few what?" four voices asked at once.

"Sorry, American Muggle sporting slang. In short, why let Voldemort plan in peace? Why not throw a few apples of discord into the Death Eater ranks? What I said was true, after all -- think of all the Death Eaters we've record of, how many had or have the brains to be much more than nasty, bullying, thugs, like Crabbe, Goyle, or Flint; or refined, hypocritical torturers, like Macnair, Crouch, and the Lestranges; or just plain cowardly sneaks, like Pettigrew? The only one he has now that we know of is Malfoy. Too many smart, ambitious, clever subordinates and one will try and take him out. One he can keep an eye on. But we might as well start some of the dumb ones thinking they can take power; it will make them fight themselves."

"True," McGonagall said.

"And no offense, but Britain isn't the entire wizarding world. Even if you might be right, and it's still the center of that world, it's still only one percent of the total. He can cause great harm, but he can't take over anything."

"True, too," Snape said. "However, none of the current followers I know of would agree, except perhaps for Malfoy, who's in too deep. They are either fanatics or they're followers who would follow any leader who will give them scope for their thuggery. The few whom I thought might see the error of their ways were killed off last June and early July. They didn't have sufficient enthusiasm for His return. If He hadn't hoped there was still some slight chance that I might poison Potter and the Headmaster, he would have killed me, too, when he had the chance. We'll have to hope your speech affects the newer recruits."

"True," Pwy admitted in turn. "So, I know of some five more minor Death Eaters I can get to and give similar little gifts to. They couldn't act on the suggestion to give it to him unless there's at least two other Death Eaters present."

"Why not slip in a bomb or something?" Bill Weasley asked.

"They aren't doing this totally willingly, Bill. The reason I can enchant them slightly lies with their lack of brain power and true self-identity and will, and in larger part with the fact that I have to honestly be able to say that what I'm giving them will do no direct harm to themselves or to their leader. They have to believe it safe, and I have to be honest with them. I couldn't get any of you, or Malfoy, to bring a second one in, because you have the brains even in the very suggestible state the spell creates to realize that even if it's not harmful in itself, giving it to Voldemort will still harm you. But I could have gotten any one of you to deliver the first one. I could, for example, have Severus serenade Harry on Valentine's Day, or have Sirius give Draco Malfoy a birthday cake." Both men gave Titus and then the other looks of intense disgust. "It's the old spell the Imperius curse was developed from; fortunately, it's legal for me to use like this."

"May I make one request of you?" Titus asked his fellow faculty as the meeting broke up a few minutes later. When he had their attention, he reminded them, "Harry has early morning classes with all of us. There's a good chance he'll have some restless nights over the next two or three weeks. And there's always the chance he'll have a vision in class. We have to keep a sharp lookout."

Indeed, Harry got very little sleep over the next few weeks. Voldemort's wrath was terrible for Harry to experience second-hand, although of course the Death Eaters suffered more dire consequences. 11 Death Eaters were killed, 5 for bringing the cubes, 6 who had tried to desert the cause. 6 other new recruits managed turned themselves in. Voldemort had tried three raids, all of which resulted in his people being killed or captured; although two Aurors were killed, none of the intended victims were even seriously injured.

Shortly after what Harry and his friends knew was the last episode of Pwy's surprises (although of course Voldemort didn't), McGonagall visited the Common Room and ordered the quartet to follow her. Mystified, they followed her to the Infirmary. It had been a quiet Saturday evening.

Dumbledore and a very angry-looking Snape were already there. Snape couldn't contain himself. "Which one of you did it? Or was it all of you!"

"Severus!" Dumbledore snapped.

"Where have you four been since dinner?" McGonagall asked.

"We've been in the common room all night, Professor," Hermione asked. "In fact, no Gryffindor left after they came in after dinner, and everyone was back by Eight-thirty-five." She been on common room duty that night.

"It was done before Eight-thirty-five!" Snape snarled, "more like Seven-thirty."

"We were all in the Common Room by Seven," Hermione asserted.

"What happened?" Harry demanded.

"Mister Malfoy was physically assaulted; he's badly injured," Dumbledore explained. "He did not directly accuse you, but the only thing he has said is, 'kill Potter.'"

"If I had assaulted Malfoy," Harry spat, "I would have dragged him here and then reported whatever act he. . .perpetrated that drove me to assault him. None of us have EVER started a fight with Malfoy and his two. . .followers. In fact, where were they?"

"Mister Crabbe and Mister Goyle. . .haven't been with him as much since the term started," Snape said, trying to hold his temper in check. "That would leave him more open to attack. Don't tell me you haven't noticed!"

"No, we haven't," Ginny said firmly. "We prefer to pay no attention Malfoy and people like him, unless they force us to. He's been keeping his mouth shut for once, and I'm glad of it! So no, we haven't been looking for a chance to gang up on him!"

Snape started to purple, and so missed three figures enter the room.

"Professors?" It was Blaise Zabini. Behind him lurked the very scared-looking Crabbe and Goyle.

"Yes, Mister Zabini?" Dumbledore asked.

Zabini gave his fellow Slytherins a look.

"We did it, sir," Crabbe said.

"We did, we did, we did beat up Malfoy," Goyle agreed.

"He came to us, just like the summer never happened. Just like he didn't tell us to f. . . ."

"To buzz off this term. He said we had to help him kill Potter."

Crabbe nodded. "Otherwise, he said, we couldn't redeem our family names."

"That he said were dirtied by our fathers last summer."

"So we beat the sh. . .err. . . ."

"We beat him up."

"Together."

"We don't like Scar. . .Potter any more than he does," Goyle said, looking at Harry.

"But we're not killin' anyone."

"Especially not on his orders."

"We're not following his orders no more."

"Did he say why he wanted to kill Mister Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

"He said he had orders, orders from. . . ."

"You-Know-Who," Crabbe whispered.

Goyle shrugged. "Maybe he did, maybe he just thought it would make him look big."

"He said if we didn't, he'd do to us what his father did to our fathers."

"So, I hit 'im."

"Then we both hit him," Crabbe said.

"Our fathers followed his father."

"Our grandfathers followed his grandfather."

"Got 'im all killed."

"Not following another Malfoy."

"I caught them trying to figure out what to do next," Zabini said. "I thought this was best, and they agreed. They were to kill Potter using these."

Zabini held out a silk bag. Dumbledore looked inside and showed it to Snape. He went paler than usual.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Never mind," Dumbledore answered. "Let it suffice that mere possession of what's in this bag will send Malfoy to Azkaban for a few years. Mister Goyle, Mister Crabbe, you are both suspended as beaters, banned from the dueling club, and barred from visiting Hogsmeade for the rest of this year. You both lose. . .thirty points for using excessive, err, for beating Malfoy far beyond what he deserved. On the other hand, you both did right by refusing to follow his orders, so you are not being expelled, suspended, or given any detentions. Mister Zabini, you are awarded twenty five points. Please take your classmates back to your common room."

"Sir, if there's to be action against Malfoy, I really think that Professor Snape should check his possessions before Malfoy exits the Infirmary," Zabini suggested.

"Severus, we shall look into that now. Minerva, please contact the Ministry. We have no alternative that I can see, considering the nature of these," Dumbledore held up the sack. "Have an auror here in the morning."

"You four, back to your common room," McGonagall stated, rather kindly for her. The four just looked at Snape.

"What?" he demanded.

Harry turned and signaled the others to follow.

"What was that all about?"

"I would imagine, considering your tone with them, they rather expected an apology," Dumbledore said. "Come along, let us see what else Mister Malfoy may be hiding."

Snape flushed in what might have been shame, but followed.

They quickly found a disturbing amount of Dark material hidden in Malfoy's magically expanded trunk. There was enough poison to kill the entire school. There were enslavement potions. There were spy devices (fortunately, only three had been installed -- in the Third year's Slytherin boy's and girls' dorms and the girls' main shower room). He had also started constructing devices which would have allowed Voldemort to port-key in attackers.

When Malfoy awoke in the middle of the night, he realized he had been caught. His signet ring also served as a port-key, and he disappeared from the infirmary before the aurors showed up to arrest him.

Monday, October 23, 1995

Ron woke up a little before 6:00 am. As he looked out of his curtains to check the time, he also saw Harry's were open, and both he and his running clothes were already gone. "Aw, hell," Ron said softly.

He dressed in his own running clothes, and went down to the Common Room. Harry was just sitting in front of the fireplace, staring at it. "Another dream, Harry?" Ron asked softly.

Harry nodded, then asked, "You know how many people I have seen tortured or killed?"

"Too many," Ron said, "especially the innocent ones."

"And how have I felt each time I saw someone hurt or killed?" Harry asked, still in a very soft, very emotionless voice.

"If they were innocent, you felt horrible and guilty; if they were His followers, you still felt horrible."

"I saw two people tortured less than an hour ago, under Cruciatus. It took some time."

Ron wished Hermione or Ginny, or even Lupin, was here. "And how did you feel?"

"I felt. . .well, I laughed. Then after I woke up, I went and puked."

Ron thought about that. The vomiting he understood -- Harry was still obviously appalled at himself. How could Harry, of all people, laugh at seeing two people tortured?

'Tortured, not killed,' Ron realized. 'Followers rather than victims, then.' "Was it the Malfoys?" Ron asked gently.

Harry nodded. "I laughed, well, because I could tell Voldemort was angry, of course, before anything else. Then Malfoy, Draco that is, came strutting in, like he was expecting to be, I don't know, acknowledged as the Crown Prince of Evil or something. The look on his face when he got cursed! He finally got a real taste of what he's supporting, and he pissed himself. Lucius must have flinched or something, because then he got a small dose. Voldemort didn't yell at either Malfoy, He just laughed at Draco for soiling himself in fact; and then when He put the Dark Mark on Draco, and Draco shit himself from the agony, He laughed at him again. That's when I woke up."

"As long as you don't make a habit of laughing at it, Harry, I don't think any less of you."

"Neither do we," Hermione said, emerging from the stairs, where she'd been listening. Ginny just came over and hugged Harry.

Harry asked to see Dumbledore and Snape right after breakfast. Snape sneered at Harry, but Dumbledore insisted he join them. Then Harry told them his story, without mentioning his reaction. Snape's sneer disappeared quickly once he heard Harry's story.

With three Slytherin starters missing, the team went down to a major defeat to Ravenclaw in the middle of November. In early December, Hufflepuff, still demoralized from Cedric's death, also went down to a heavy defeat to Gryffindor. With the snitch being elusive, Harry was able put in the reserve seekers and beaters after half an hour and still trounce the poor Hufflepuffs.

Other than the Quidditch games, much of the students' attention was towards the Yule Ball, back by popular demand (most of the girls in the top four years had actually signed a petition for it right after Halloween). This year, Dumbledore announced the evening before the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor game, the Ball would be after dinner on Friday, December 22 (instead of the dinner dance of the year before), which would allow students to leave on Christmas Break the next morning.

The evening of December 3, Dumbledore called Harry to his office.

"Professor McGonagall mentioned to me that you have not signed up to stay over the Christmas break. Are you planning on going to the Dursleys'?" Dumbledore was clearly doubtful.

"No, sir. I was hoping to stay with Sirius."

"Sirius has been acquitted," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but he has no permanent abode. The Weasleys would not be safe; it's very difficult to monitor apparations in the winter, especially over Christmas. Professor Lupin's would also be unsafe."

Dumbledore and Harry were both startled by a knock on the door.

"Come in, Doctor," Dumbledore said wearily. As Pwy entered, Dumbledore said, "He is the only person who can approach the door without my knowing it."

"Minerva mentioned that Harry hadn't been the first to sign up to leave over Christmas this year. Since you called him in, may I assume that he's trying to spend time with his godfather, without an approved venue?"

Dumbledore's face tried to frown and smile at the same time.

"Did Doctor Pwy teach you how to figure these things out?" Harry asked, teasing the Headmaster a little.

"Certainly he did by example, if nothing else."

Pwy smiled for a second, before asking,"May I offer a solution?"

"Of course."

"Harry, Sirius, and anyone else they may wish, may either join me in the Valley, or if they wish some privacy, either they or I can spend the holiday in Weston. In either case, we should make it clear that Harry is going overseas without saying precisely where. That will prevent undue attention being focused on either the Weasleys or the Dursleys, or the Grangers for that matter."

Harry smiled brightly and looked hopefully at Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled in return.