Harry Potter and the Emerald Sceptre

He took three almost blind paces into the semi-darkness before he froze. A shiver ran down his spine. He was being watched; he could feel another presence in the room. He raised the light above his head but still he saw nothing. He right hand crept to his wand. His Sapphire fingers wrapped around the wand. Something felt wrong. He slowly moved towards the door. For some unknown reason, he felt his right hand move from the handle of his wand to that of the sword. Somehow he felt safer grasping that than his wand. He took two more steps then he heard it."

"SAVIKENDRA!" roared a voice in the dark. The polished wood of the door before him reflected the pink light of a curse coming from behind him. On instinct he spun around and drew his wand, but his hand was not grasping his wand and so instead of producing a small wooden stick, he now held a long metal Samurai Sword. The white flame in his hand disappeared as he drew the sword. The only light now came from the pink ball of energy rocketing towards him. Not knowing what else to do, he swung the flat edge of the blade at the Curse, the Curse struck the polished blade and ricocheted off back in the direction it had come from. Harry didn't even feel recoil. The curse not being made of matter probably expained that. The sword effortlessly repelled the Curse. Wow, thought Harry. I should've been a Beater! The pink curse struck the shelves causing them to crack and their contents to fall to the floor with a loud crash. A foe glass had been dislodged and had shattered as it hit the ground. Harry raised the sword, ready for another attack. He stood perfectly still, listening for any sign that would betray where his attacker was. He couldn't see anyone, so he assumed that they must be under a similar cloak or a Disillusionment Charm. A second passed with no sign of another attack, then another second. For half a minute Harry stood in perfect stillness, hearing only the sound of his rapidly beating heart.

"REDUCTO!" The second curse came much faster than the first. Confident this time of his ability, Harry swung once more at the curse. In a Babe Ruth style swing, the Curse was sent rocketing into the ceiling, causing a jagged hole to appear and dust to fill the room.

Harry blocked the next attack in a similar manner, the following one was too fast and he had to dive out of the way. Harry took cover behind one of the chairs. It was still very dark and he couldn't see anything. Then he heard it.

CLUMP! CLUMP!

Mad-Eye's leg! It was Mad-Eye! This must another one of the Order's tests. Harry suddenly had an idea. Since Mad-Eye was part of the Order he would have an Amulet. Harry clasped his own Amulet through his shirt. Alastor Moody, he thought. He raised his head just to see if he could see a small item glow red.

"Bugger!" cursed a voice. "Sodding piece of shite!" He couldn't see anything; Moody must have his cloak on. He could hear his general direction by the sound of his voice.

Harry stood up and extended his hand,

"Accio wand!" he called. The attacker's wand soared through the air into his outstretched hand, his real one. He turned the wand on his attacker.

"Accio cloak!" he muttered. A silvery sheet of fabric appeared in midair a few feet in front of him. It came flying towards him leaving its owner standing exposed in the middle of the room. The cloak landed on the table. Finally Harry lowered the sword.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

Three loud claps filled the room.

"Impressive, Potter!" growled Moody. The lights instantly came on and Harry could see perfectly once more. He blinked a few times while his eyes tried to adapt. "My wand," growled Moody as he extended his hand.

"Not likely," replied Harry defiantly.

"Why not?"

"Because if I did give it to you, you'd hex me again and then have a go at me for letting my guard down when I think I've won." A small smile spread over Moody's face.

"Good form, Potter. However, the meeting is about to start and I would like my wand back. Your test is officially over."

"My test?"

"Yes," growled Moody. He pointed to the large mirror on one wall. The mirror along with a section of wall swung open and Dumbledore emerged, beaming from ear to ear. Remus was behind him and behind him came the rest of the Order. Tonks was there as well as McGonagall, Snape, Black and the Weasleys, with the exception of Ron and Ginny. Also present were Kingsley, Dedalus, Tonks, many more he recognised, including Neville's Grandmother and many he didn't know.

"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore when he reached him. "Unexpected, against school rules, but resourceful and quite magnificent." Harry put the sword back in the scabbard and handed Mad-Eye back his cloak and wand.

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Harry going red. He felt more than a bit guilty. "I packed it for good measure and I forget to tell you." He saw that the others were sitting down at the table, so he decided to join them. He sank into a seat near one end. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table on the far end from Harry.

"May I see it?" asked Dumbledore. Harry detached the scabbard, with the sword inside and placed it on the table in front of him. Dumbledore raised a hand and the sword flew over to him. All eyes turned to him, as he examined it.

"Interesting," said Dumbledore. "The craftsmanship is unique. It also managed to repel a Reductor Curse without even a smear...I wonder. There is magic in this sword, no doubt. Where did you get it?"

"You made it into the Portkey at Crown Hill," replied Harry.

"So I did," mused Dumbledore. "Harry, on Sunday we are going to take a quick trip to a friend of mine. He is an expert on all things Japanese. Until then, I am disinclined to let you keep a magical item whose origin is unknown, not to mention a weapon of this scale. I will hold onto it until then; I hope you don't mind." Harry just nodded. Even if he did mind, he was not going to get it back.

"Alright," said Dumbledore, standing up. "On to the purpose of tonight's meeting. Firstly, as you may be aware, Voldemort is able to Apparate into Hogwarts grounds at any time. I have been searching for other wards to keep him out, so far unsuccessfully. I need two volunteers to go to Crouch Memorial Library and continue research into these matters."

Dumbledore, seeing that no one put their hands up, picked two members who would do it whether they wanted too or not. Harry was glad that Dumbledore didn't choose him.

"Secondly," continued the Headmaster. "Mr. Ashby, you still hold a licence to teach Apparation I believe."

"Yes," replied a large man at the far end of the table from Dumbledore.

"I need you to secure a provisional licence and instruct Mr. Potter here in Apparation." Harry's stomach leapt up into his throat. He was going to learn to Apparate. Wow! He had always wanted to learn and now he could, a year early as well.

"He's too young," replied Mr. Ashby with an appraising stare at Harry. Harry felt his dream slip away.

"He is not yet of age, Adrian," confirmed Dumbledore. "But it has become necessary to teach him this skill. Judging by his performance in his other classes, he should be able to perform sufficiently." The dream came whizzing back. Harry's heart did a loop the loop and knotted itself with his stomach. Harry was trying desperately to suppress a grin. It was a dream come true but he didn't want to look like he was enjoying defying the system. He wouldn't give Snape the pleasure of admitting his accusations were correct.

"I'll try. Fudge will not like it," said Mr Ashby.

"Tell him it would look good as an official apology for last year's slander," mused McGonagall.

"If they want to make evens they need to give him the bloody Order of Merlin," said Mundungus Fletcher quietly, causing those near him to laugh. They quickly stopped when Dumbledore politely asked Mundungus to repeat what he had just said. The pickpocket went scarlet and grudgingly repeated his joke. It wasn't as funny second time around.

"Severus," said Dumbledore moving on to the next topic on the agenda. "What has happened to Master Malfoy?" Snape cleared his throat.

"Draco Malfoy is at present staying with Bellatrix. She is teaching him the way Lucius wanted him to be taught, namely in the Dark Arts. Rumour has it that he is progressing well; he has a deep hatred of Potter."

"In your opinion, is he totally lost to us?" asked Dumbledore. Snape blinked, apparently caught off guard by the directness of question. He gave Narcissa a sad glance before answering.

"Yes. We would need a miracle to pull him back." Harry saw a single tear roll down Narcissa's cheek, which she quickly wiped away. "There is more, Dumbledore," added Snape. "They are up to something. The four are meeting behind closed doors more often than ever before."

"The four?" asked Arthur Weasley.

"The Dark Lord has appointed four senior Death Eaters, four Lieutenants, you could call them. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Walden Macnair and Rodolphus Lestrange. These four, plus the Dark Lord, are convening daily. They are giving orders that appear irrational. It is almost as if they are covering their tracks. Giving other jobs to hide what really goes on. They must know that there are spies within the Death Eaters."

"It would be foolish to assume that the Death Eaters are above betrayal," said Dumbledore. "Tom knows this; he has learned the lessons of fifteen years ago. We shouldn't press too hard. Asking too many questions, could compromise agents. Severus, I sense there is something else you wish to say." Snape sighed and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the table and interlocked his fingers. He looked older and more tired than Harry had ever seen him. For a second, Harry felt sorry for the Potion's Master. He looked genuinely worried, even scared.

"There is another person," said Snape at last. "I don't know who he is. He comes and goes when he pleases, always in a black cloak and hood. I have never seen him before. He just appeared about a week ago. I thought it was a an isolated incident so I didn't report it. I can't even touch his mind with Legimency. This stranger, it is almost as if the Dark Lord is afraid of him. They speak as if they are equal. I even heard him give the Dark Lord an order."

"Another Dark Lord?" asked McGonagall with a cynical tone.

"No, The Dark Lord would kill any competition without a second thought," replied Snape softly. "This man is an ally. I don't know who or what he is. All I know is that he literally radiates tremendous power and he sends a shiver down my spine whenever he is around. No word of a lie. This man, this thing, whatever he is, scares the hell out of me."

"You heard him speak?" asked Harry, speaking for the first time. Snape turned to him and glared. He must have forgotten Harry was here when he confessed to being scared. Snape nodded his head. "Do you recognise his voice, can you tell anything from it, age or nationality, for example?"

"No, Potter," sighed Snape in an almost patronising tone. "He has used a spell to mask his voice. He is no fool. It sounds like...I don't know what. It is like a deep growl that's inhuman."

"Albus," said McGonagall. "Do you know of anything other than you who would stand up to V...Vold...him. Do you know anyone who he would consider an equal?"

"Minerva," sighed Dumbledore. "I could only speculate. He fears three people, for certain. One is myself, another is in this room and the last appears have sided with him. Aside from myself and Harry, I do not know of anyone who would even contemplate equalling Voldemort...unless...he could be a mentor."

"A mentor?"

"Well Voldemort toured the world after he left school. He went from a rather unique graduate to a Dark Lord. He was powerful when he left but not as powerful as he would become. He would have needed teachers, people to learn from. It is possible that one of them has returned to him."

"So now we are facing two Dark Lords, not just one?" asked Molly Weasley.

"It appears so," sighed Dumbledore. "I am only speculating of course. Severus, could you find out about this man?"

"I'd rather not, Headmaster," said Snape going white.

"What about your duty, Severus," said McGonagall firmly.

"Its just that, the last person to asked who he was, well...let's just say that after the Dark Lord finished with him, he didn't so much need a coffin as a sponge." There was a collective gasp from everyone gathered. Even Harry felt a trace of pity for the Potions Master.

"Severus, I apologise," said McGonagall. Snape merely nodded.

"Is there anything else we know?" asked Dumbledore. Snape shook his head and sat back. Dumbledore looked around the table at the others.

"The vaults," said Bill Weasley at last. "The Gringotts Vaults from Malfoy, Lestrange and Riddle have been emptied. Cash was taken, and as far as we can tell, has not been put into another vault. That means they have enough gold to make Fort Knox look like pocket money. They could buy anything they want."

"William," said Dumbledore. "I trust you can keep an eye on it?"

"I'll try," replied Bill. "The Goblins don't want to become targets; they are afraid to snoop too deeply. I'll try though."

"There may be something else," said a voice from the right of Harry. The accent sounded strangely familiar. Harry had to lean across the table to see who had spoken. It was Viktor Krum. So he was a member of the Order. Harry remembered hearing that Dumbledore was keen to recruit foreign wizards to their cause. He also wondered whether Hermione knew that he was back in the country. "There have been strange disappearances in Germany und Austria. Archaeologists, Historians, the most bizarre is the disappearance of a recently caught Nazi War-Criminal. He was supposed to be collected by the Mossad, that is the Israeli Secret Service, and taken back to Tel Aviv but he was taken from his cell. A Security guard vas found dead with no known cause of death. It sounds like the killing curse."

"Are we sure it is Voldemort?" asked Remus. "Couldn't it just be some neo-Nazi wizard who wanted an idol to hero-worship?"

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. "Viktor, would you keep an eye on the newspapers, magical and Muggle. This could be nothing but it would be foolish to rule out the possibility of Voldemort's involvement." Krum nodded and scribbled a note on a piece of parchment he pulled from his pocket. With that done, he put it back in his pocket.

"What would anyone want with historians?" asked Charlie Weasley thoughtfully.

"Could we find out what they specialised in?" asked Harry. "If we knew what they were experts in it might give us some clue as to what Voldemort wants. Assuming this is Voldemort behind it."

"I will try," said Viktor.

"Harry," asked Dumbledore. "Any dreams or feelings about Tom?"

"Not really, a couple of tinglings in the scar but nothing else. I assume that was him demonstrating the price of failure."

"Let me know immediately if you experience anything," said Dumbledore. Harry nodded. "Right, now as most of you are aware, last Thursday Peter Pettigrew left us a key to a locker in Victoria station." Harry leaned forward, eager to catch every word. He had been waiting nearly a week for this moment. "We have watched this locker for nearly a week and since there has been no activity, we have opened the locker. Inside was this." He took a small clear bottle about the size of a camera film tube out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Inside was a small amount of a silvery liquid.

"Is that what I think it is," asked Molly Weasley softly.

"It is someone's memory, preserved in Penseive form," said Dumbledore.

"And what does it show?" asked McGonagall.

"That is a very good question," said Dumbledore. "Minerva would you be kind enough to fetch the Penseive from my office. There is also a projector in the draw under the cuckoo clock."

"No need," said Harry. "This is the Room of Requirement. Whatever you require should be on the shelves." He was tempted to add 'Hence the name' on the end of that statement but he decided that cheeking Minerva McGonagall was not a good idea.

"How could you possibly know that?" asked McGonagall sceptically. Then realisation dawned on her face. "Oh."

Sure enough, on one of the shelves was a Penseive and right next to it, what Harry assumed was a projector. It was basically a short telescope on a tripod with two silver tubes hanging down. Dumbledore placed the ends of these into the pensive and poured the memory from Wormtail into the bowl. A swish of his wand, the lights in the room went out and another caused the projector to turn on.

On one wall an image was shown. It was of a staircase. The wooden banister and steps were made of a dark oak and a scarlet carpet went straight down the middle. At the top of the staircase, there was a large painting of a face that Harry had seen before, down in the Chamber of Secrets. It was Salazar Slytherin. The staircase forked here, giving the climber an option of turning left up into the balcony on the left or right onto a similar balcony. Both joined up around the far side of the hall. A large bright chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the room very brightly. The screen wobbled as it moved closer to the fork. This must be the point of view of the person making the Penseive, presumably Wormtail.

The screen wobbled as Wormtail climbed the stairs, he forked right and then at the top of the stairs turned right again and then paused outside the second door on the left. There was the sound of a deep breath. Wormtail extended a hand and just as he was about to grasp the handle. The door swung open.

"AARRRGGHHH!"

"Merlin, Wormtail," said the man in the mask who had opened the door. "Don't scare me like that again."

"Sorry," squeaked Wormtail.

The masked man pushed by and left. Wormtail watched him descend the stairs and then walked through the door. Inside was a large table, surrounded by five Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Each was clad in black robes, though all masks and hoods had been removed. Wormtail slowly approached the table and then stopped a few feet from it.

"You sent for me, Master," he whimpered. He was clearly scared to death. Voldemort stared at him for a second then spoke,

"Has McCloud finished preparing his little act yet?" asked Voldemort quietly.

"Yes, Master. The Portkey has been made undetectable and his costume is just about complete. He is sending the equipment over as we speak."

"Excellent," said Voldemort without emotion. "Now, Wormtail, were you successful?"

"I was, Master. She took the offer without a second thought," replied Wormtail.

"Politicians are too greedy for their own good," smirked Voldemort. "Create the illusion of power and they will jump through hoops for you." He laughed softly for a few seconds. Then he turned back to Wormtail. "Wormtail, a package will be arriving in a few days. When it does, you are to send it straight to the cave. Bellatrix will take it from there. As for now, there is a bag of gold in the drawer next to you. Take it to your new recruit. Tell her she will get her wish within a fortnight. Also stress to her that non compliance once she is in power will result in the second assassination of a Minister of Magic."

"Yes, Master," came Wormtail's voice.

The screen went blank and the light from the projector faded. The lights came back on and the Order sat in silence, assimilating what they had just heard. Harry felt a sense of foreboding. They are going to assassinate the Minister of Magic. He disliked Fudge with a vengeance but he didn't want him dead. It was Dumbledore who spoke first.

"Kingsley, can you upgrade the security around the Minister?"

"I can," replied Kingsley. "I can have a team of Aurors watching him around the clock, but we can never be completely sure."

"Do what you can," said Dumbledore.

"Albus," interrupted McGonagall. "What about the new recruit they spoke of. She would get into power. If Fudge were to be killed, the responsibility would fall to the Senior Undersecretary, at least until new elections were held. Would that mean Dolores Umbridge is a Death Eater? If she was, she would have two months to consolidate power before they would get around to holding elections."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore.

"Perhaps not," said Moody. "If a bomb were to kill the Minister and his two Undersecretaries, who would take over then?"

"I'll find out," offered Tonks.

"Do so," said Dumbledore urgently. "Killing the Minister of Magic would not just throw the government into chaos, it would also destroy morale. Cornelius Fudge is one of the most recognised figures in the country. He also commands the Aurors and we all know how much protection he has around him. If Tom could publicly kill him, it would send a message to the public that he is unstoppable. Protecting the Minister is our first priority."

"Can we rely on this source?" asked Harry, speaking for the first time since the Penseive had been revealed. "It's just that I can't think why Wormtail would send us this. How can we be sure it isn't a red herring? What if he's trying to divert our attention away from something more important?"

"A good point, Harry," said Dumbledore. "But take a moment to think about the manner by which we came by this information. Firstly, one must consider the way this was delivered. Not by owl or any other common means. A dead drop is used so that no one knows about it. Showing himself in Hogsmeade was a great risk for Wormtail. Secondly, since Severus did not know of this, it is a secret plan; known only to those it directly involves and hence is more likely to be valid. Thirdly...even if this is a 'red herring' as you described it, we have to assume it is real. If there is even the slightest chance that there will be an attempt on the Minister, we have to act. The potential chaos if he were to be killed is unthinkable. I am aware of your less-than-warm feelings towards Minister Fudge, but he is a good man, if somewhat misguided, and he is the Minister of Magic. "

"So we are treating this threat as real?" asked Kingsley.

"We are," confirmed Dumbledore. "Kingsley, can you get Alastor onto Fudge's advanced guard?"

"Fudge won't like it, but I can probably do it," replied Kingsley. "What about Umbridge? She is not above suspicion."

"Keep an eye on her but take no action unless you can catch her red handed," said Dumbledore. "We now have a lot on our plates. Our main priorities right now are, one, protection of the Minister, two, keeping Tom out of Hogwarts. I believe that is all, for now. Are there any questions before we leave?"

"Yes," said Tonks after a few seconds. "The Prophecy that we recovered from the Ministry." Harry's blood went cold. He saw the Headmaster look at him; their eyes locked. Harry looked pleadingly at the Headmaster and gave a tiny shake of the head, before Dumbledore broke eye contact. Tonks continued, "I know the record was lost but shouldn't we try to find the original person who heard it. I have a friend who works there and she said that when the seer gives a true prophecy, the record is kept there but the person who heard will also remember it forever. Shouldn't we be looking for her or him?"

"My dear Nymphadora," began Dumbledore sadly. Harry saw Tonk's eyes narrowed. "We already know who heard the Prophecy."

"Who was it Albus?" asked McGonagall.

"It was I," replied the Headmaster.

"Excellent," said Tonks. "What's in it?" Dumbledore looked once more at Harry and sighed.

"I'm afraid that it does not concern you, Nymphadora," said Dumbledore slowly and calmly. "What was in the Prophecy is between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter. None of you can change that; it is easier if you do not know. You may not like my decision, but please accept. It would be unfair on Harry should it become public knowledge. Please, just let it be." There was utter silence in the room. Not a person moved. All eyes flicked from the Headmaster to Harry and back again. Harry felt blood run to his cheeks; he never did like being the centre of attention.

Dumbledore continued, "I will contact you all with instructions soon. As for now, this meeting is adjourned. Harry, Minerva, Severus and Remus, please stay a little longer." While the others got up and left, the four of them moved down the table and sat nearer to the Headmaster. Harry checked his watch. It was now five to nine. He still had the essay to do for Flitwick. He hoped this meeting wouldn't go on too long; he would be up half the night otherwise.

"I have asked you to stay," began Dumbledore when everyone had left. "Because we need to come to an agreement about Harry's future. He already has a licence for underage magic and shortly Apparation as well. Adulthood has come very fast has it not, Harry?" The Headmaster smiled.

"Yes, it has," replied Harry glumly.

"You have already expressed an interest in becoming a Auror after you leave Hogwarts..."

"Assuming I live that long," muttered Harry.

"I'm going to ignore that statement," said Dumbledore firmly. "The long and the short of the Prophecy is that Harry must defeat Voldemort. Our job is to train him up but at the same time we must remember that Harry is not a tool. He is a person with feelings. I made the same selfish error last year. I thought of him as a tool. I lost sight of Harry's own feelings and for that I do not deserve to be forgiven. Looking back, Harry has not had a single happy year. From Basilisks to Dementors, from dragons and rats, everything that could go wrong has done so. Remus, you were right when you said that if I did not teach Harry, sooner or later a scolded hand would. You were right, and that scold turned out to be a good man's life. I thoroughly deserved the verbal abuse both you and Harry gave me after we returned from the Ministry. As much as I long to change the past I know that I cannot. We must look to the future. As I have told Harry, it is our choices that determine who we are. I cannot guide him; neither can anyone else. He has to choose and for that reason, he has been granted these freedoms. Minerva, Severus, my request of you is simple. Do not single him out more than anyone else; also, do not push him in any direction. Teach your lessons just as you normally would, let him decide what else to do. Next there is the matter of the Dursleys. They are leaving on Saturday. The car will take them straight to Heathrow. Harry you are entitled to go with them if you wish. They leave the castle at eight thirty on Saturday morning. I assume you will want to be there."

"Harry nodded." He felt it only right that he should be there.

"Harry, one more quick thing before you go; could you ask our Head Girl to see me in my office tomorrow break time, please. That is all; you may go. I assume you still have homework to do."

Harry just nodded and left. Dumbledore's last speech had shaken him up. Dumbledore had put how he felt into words. Everyone thought of him as a tool. No one cared about how he felt, except that select few, the Weasleys, Hermione and Katie. They cared for him, didn't they? Ron was with Hermione now; with their separate lessons for much of the week, Harry seemed to hardly speak to them. Suddenly he felt so alone. Dumbledore had brought Sirius back to the surface. His words echoed over and over, sooner or later a scolded hand will. What should he do now? Dumbledore said he had to choose; that he was in control of his life. He also said that no one else could choose. He had no one to help him, no guides. He was marching headlong into uncharted territory. All his school life he could go to Dumbledore or McGonagall or Remus and they would steer him straight. There had been times when he wished he was free of their guidance, free to do whatever he wanted and now that he was, he sorely missed their help. The grass is always greener on the other side. Mrs. Weasley had said that to him before. Wise words, but words he wished were not true.

He had been walking blindly, staring at his feet. He looked up and found himself a few corridors away from Gryffindor Tower. That was the good thing about having walked this way so often; he could do it without thinking. He reached the Portrait hole and gave the password. As he walked through the hole, he became aware of footsteps behind him. He paused and turned around, just in time to see a small figure with red hair come bolting round the corner. She froze as she saw Harry.

"Ginny, what are you doing out so late?" asked Harry.

"Shhh! Filch. Hurry up inside!" hissed Ginny. Once they were back inside and the portrait hole was safely sealed, Harry repeated the question to Ginny.

"I was on a bakery run," replied Ginny.

"A what?"

"Bakery run. To the kitchens to pilfer some buns."

"I see. Why were you wearing a cloak then?"

"I thought it might get cold," replied Ginny defensively. Harry looked into her hazel eyes; he saw something stir. She was lying. He didn't know how he knew or what it was that he saw in her eyes, but she was lying. Before he could quiz her further, she disappeared up the stairs into the girl's dormitories. Oh well, thought Harry. She must know what she is doing. I even told her it is her life. The common room was deserted except for a pair of fourth years in the corner comparing notes. Harry fetched his textbook and parchment, chose a comfy seat by the fire and dragged a table across to him. He began the laborious task of his Charms essay. He finished it at ten thirty and after he had read through it, he realised that he was the only one still up. He placed his things back into his satchel and poured himself a drink of water from the jug, which was always full and always cold.

OK, thought Harry. Let's think here. They are plotting something. No surprises there. This stuff in Germany, something tells me this is Voldemort. It just feels, right. Historians, archaeologists and a Nazi. What does Voldemort want with historians? Was he looking for an ancient relic, some holy weapon? Possibly. But then why would he need a war criminal? Archaeologists dig up bones, tombs and dinosaurs. Does he want some ancient Egyptian weapon? Then he found himself thinking about Wormtail's Penseive. Why had he sent it? How would Wormtail profit from Fudge being alive. He was risking a lot, what was in it for him. This whole 'dead drop' as Dumbledore had called it, could be a set piece; part of a bigger plan. It made no sense to Harry and he couldn't suppress a feeling of dread. Harry sat in wonder for several minutes, thoughts flowing over in his head. He envisioned Voldemort sending mummies after him and a Tyrannosaurus Rex after the Minister of Magic. He was beginning to get a headache. He checked his watch; it was quarter to eleven. He had to be up for Double Muggle Studies tomorrow.

"Harry?" asked a familiar voice softly.

"Evening, Kate," said Harry without looking around.

"Since when have I been Kate?" asked Katie.

"Since I became too lazy to pronounce two syllables," replied Harry turning and grinning at her.

"Well, it's better than Kathy," she grinned. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing her pyjamas. She evidently had chosen not to wear her nightie, probably in fear of some idiot who shall remain nameless pulling it up. She slowly crossed to where Harry was sitting and slid over the arm of the chair into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips. Harry longed to hold her tightly in his arms and kiss her deeply, passionately...but he couldn't. She had nearly been raped. He had to control his urges. Both of them were finding this all very difficult. She needed him to be supportive, not to take advantage of her. Instead, he softly returned the kiss for a second before breaking it off.

"Can't sleep?" she asked.

"Charms homework," replied Harry.

"Where have you been all evening?" she asked.

"Dumbledore called me to a meeting," replied Harry. "He wants to see you tomorrow at break."

"I look forward to it," she muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What about you," he whispered.

"The gruesome twosome are still chatting about the rumoured Christmas ball."

"Is there one?"

"Apparently."

"I thought there were three of them?"

"Charity is not there; detention or Astronomy Tower, I would assume. Tart."

"Do you reckon there is going to be a ball?" he asked. He rolled his eyes. The last one had been a fiasco to say the least. Even though this time he shouldn't have to worry about finding a date, he still had the embarrassing task of trying to dance and the endless requests from little girls he had never spoken to. There should be a law against dancing, thought Harry.

"If there is enough support, then yes," replied Katie.

"Will you go with me?" asked Harry, getting the question out of the way so he could relax.

"Can't, I'm going with Wickaman," grinned Katie.

"That isn't even funny," said Harry though he couldn't help but smile.

"Of course I'll go with you," sighed Katie. "Do you know what the downside of being back at school is?"

"There's only one?" asked Harry.

"Having to share a dorm with the Three Ugly Sisters."

"You could come into ours," suggested Harry.

"Well I never," mused Katie. "Mr. Potter, you wouldn't be thinking of breaking any rules would you?"

"Certainly not," replied Harry with a grin. "I was just thinking; if, hypothetically, we were going to do that it would have to be mine, as boys can't enter a girl's dorm."

"And, hypothetically, we would have to be very quiet," added Katie. She kissed him once more. "That's quiet enough. Lead the way," she smiled.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Dumbledore had called Katie to his office in order to offer her membership to the Order of the Phoenix since she was of age. Presumably, Ron would be offered the same when he turned seventeen in March, and Hermione in September. Poor Ginny had to wait until March next year. On a related issue, Harry made a mental note that Katie's birthday was December the tenth; he must not forget that. The look on Ron's face when he saw Katie in their dormitory the next morning was priceless. She was fully clothed and was opening a window when Ron opened the curtain around his bed. It was one of those moments when Harry really wished he had a still Muggle camera to preserve the moment forever. Katie had the sense to disappear before the others woke. Harry, as advised by Madam Pomfrey not laid a hand on Katie. They slept together, but there was no hanky-panky. Katie still would freeze and tense up when anyone else was around. She was able to relax around their close friends, but around other people she was still very touchy.

The days ticked by and the homework grew. Harry managed to keep up but he was far from on top of things. In addition to the Duelling Club, which had involved him teaching Expelliarmus, Stupefy and Protego to first, second and third years, he also had to attend two Quidditch practices and that was on top of five NEWTs. He had not missed any homework, but anything due in after the weekend had been left until then. His plan to do everything the night it was set had gone out of the window on Tuesday. Harry promised himself he would do all the work over the weekend and then start again with his plan on Monday. Deep down he knew it would probably fail again. Tuesday night had taught him the dangers of leaving work until the last minute. As Hermione's Homework Diary had said, 'Do it today or later you'll pay'.

Saturday morning dawned and with it, a sense of loss once more. Loss was a feeling that by all accounts Harry should be used to by now but it never gets any easier. The Dursleys were moved from their room at eight twenty down to the Entrance Hall. Dudley's dark blond hair had been given highlights and was shorter and spiked. This was how he had opted for it to be changed. This was the way he would look in America, similar, but different from the once Dudley Dursley. Uncle Vernon's hair was no longer grey. It was also shorter and he wore sunglasses with his shirt and trousers. Aunt Petunia had died her hair as well, this time brunette. She also wore glasses, ones whose lenses didn't magnify so she could still see clearly.

Katie had accompanied Harry down with them. She stood silently by his side as his last remaining family with the exception of Mark Evans left his life for good. Two of the Dursleys were smiling, as happy as could be. This made it harder. They were happy to be going, though it seemed to Harry, that they were happy to be rid of him. Although this was almost certainly true, Harry would have liked them to show just a little appreciation for what he had done for them. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, was not so joyous. She hadn't said a word since leaving the room. She sat in silence as the car hopped around the country. It was for Harry a sombre occasion. He thought back to the times they had had together. He remembered last Thursday morning when Harry had sneaked Dudley out of the castle under his father's cloak and let him have a ride on a broomstick. He remembered the look on his face as they had entered Zonko's joke shop during their tour of Hogsmeade. So many memories, now a memory was all Dudley would ever be. Nathan Squires was off to America. They arrived in good time and checked in. As they headed through the crowds to the Departure Lounges, Harry couldn't help but look at Aunt Petunia. She still had not said a word and from what Harry could see from her eyes, she was grappling with a decision. She seemed to be lost in her own trail of thought; she nearly walked straight into a pillar. They reached the gates and the Dursleys joined the queue. Harry, Katie and Tonks stayed with them.

"Harry," whispered a frightened voice. It was Aunt Petunia. "Is this right?"

"Is what right?"

"All this," she whispered. "Should I go? Can I just leave you to all this?"

"Yes, you have to," replied Harry. Truth be told, he would rather she stay at this precise moment, but he knew that she would only be a prisoner back at the castle. She had to go; it was for the best.

"But I owe you so much. I can't leave, I have to stay; I have to help for Lily's sake."

"What?" asked Harry, unable to comprehend her logic.

"I tried to make amends, Harry. But I failed. I can still help you."

"Listen to me, you have a family. You have a husband and a son that love you. They need you."

"So do you."

"The best way to help me is to go, to get beyond his reach. You must go, Aunt Petunia!" said Harry.

"Mrs. Dursley," said Katie. "I know you feel that you must stay and fight but if you do you will suffer, so will you husband, your son and Harry. His mother gave her life so that he could live. If you stay here, you could loose your own and then where would your son be?"

"But..."

"But nothing, this is not your war," said Harry kindly. "You should never have been dragged back into it. Let us do our jobs and keep you safe." Aunt Petunia looked into his eyes, then Katie's. She glanced at her family then back to Harry. Defeat was prominent in her eyes.

"Harry," she whispered. "If you catch him, let me know. Let me see him one last time," she begged. "Please?"

"Petunia! Come on!" said Uncle Vernon from the front of the queue.

"Promise me, Harry," said Aunt Petunia. Harry looked up into her tearful eyes, then at her family, then back to Aunt Petunia. Dumbledore wasn't around. The answer was solely Harry's responsibility.

"OK," replied Harry. He didn't want to but he knew he had no choice. "If we get him, you shall know about it." Aunt Petunia hugged him, not a stiff hug but a warm motherly hug for the first time in fifteen years of guardianship. A second later she was gone, through the gate and off to a new life. Petunia Dursley was dead. Bethany Squires was through to the departure lounge.

Harry stood and stared for a few second before turning and rejoining Katie and Tonks.

"You OK?" asked Katie.

"No," said Harry. He managed not to shed a single tear but his voice cracked with the single word. Katie put her arm around his shoulders. His first thought was to throw it off; he didn't want to be pitied, but he managed to stop himself.

"Now, I am alone," muttered Harry.

"No," whispered Katie. "You're not. I'll always be here. Ron, Hermione, even Dumbledore. You'll never be alone."

They made their way back to the car in silence. Harry didn't say a word the entire length of the journey. He sat and stared unseeing out of the window. His mind was touring memory lane; trying to picture a future with no family to turn to and no place to call home. Grimmauld Place was a house, a home was somewhere where family was, somewhere where he would be safe, be loved and be part of something. Suddenly, Grimmauld Place seemed so cold.

"They set off OK?" asked McGonagall who met them in the Entrance Hall.

"Safe and sound," muttered Harry without looking up.

"I know how you feel, Harry," said McGonagall.

"I doubt it," replied Harry. On any other day he would have ended up in a month of detentions for his rudeness but not today.

"Believe me, Harry," said the McGonagall with a sigh. "I do know. You are not the only one who has lost someone dear to you. This will not be any comfort but trust me, moping around down memory lane will not help. Keep active, keep busy and let time ease your pain."

Harry nodded slowly; there was undeniably wisdom in her words. Such a display of emotion from Minerva McGonagall was unknown. I may have seemed like nothing to anyone watching but to those who knew her, it was a real show of support.

"Now, speaking of keeping busy," continued McGonagall. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"I should have known that was coming," laughed Harry.

"I'm not going to give you extra work, I'm just reminding you that you are taking NEWTs this year. I would advise studying. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to remind you that you and he are taking a trip tomorrow. You are to report to his office at ten o'clock."

They all spent the day at work. Ron and Harry managed to get through their Transfiguration essays as well as Charms and a surprisingly hard assignment from Narcissa.

~~~~ + ~~~~

As requested, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office at ten the next day. The Headmaster was inside, pulling on an anorak. He looked quite odd in Muggle clothes especially with his long hair and beard.

"Ready Harry?" asked the Headmaster.

"Yes," said Harry. He was dressed in Muggle clothes with his cloak on for good measure. Dumbledore handed him the sword, which he concealed beneath his cloak. He was glad he had chosen to wear the cloak. Without it the sword would have been noticed. Muggle police wouldn't be too happy if they saw a schoolboy carrying a huge great sword around town.

Dumbledore turned a quill into a Portkey and offered it to Harry.

They landed in a dark and damp alley. The smell of rotting rubbish emanated from several dustbins, which were piled up in the corner. Dumbledore led Harry out into the middle of a Muggle street. Small, yet busy, shops lined both sides of the street. It was narrow and looked quite rural. Dumbledore lead him down the street. Their pace was faster than usual and Harry didn't even have time to window shop on the way. They stopped after a few hundred metres.

"This way, Harry," said Dumbledore, gesturing at the small shop before them. It looked old and dusty. In the window were ornate oriental ornaments. Porcelain dolls, Japanese art, kimonos, Japanese dresses, Samurai armour and swords. Jewellery and trinkets from centuries of Japanese culture were laid out before them. Dumbledore opened the door and, as customary with Muggle shops, the bell sounded. Inside, the shop was warm but dim. The little light there was came from lava lamps, paper lanterns and the small lights designed to illuminate the displays. What sat behind the glass of the displays was priceless. Whoever this man was, he clearly was very devoted.

"Can I help you?" asked a voice from the shadows, with a thick Japanese accent.

"Indeed you may," smiled Dumbledore.

"Albus, so good to see you gain," came the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows. The man was about Harry's height; he was wearing a shirt and tie with a green woollen V-neck jumper. He wore glasses, and if Harry had to guess he would have said that the man was about fifty. The man bowed to Dumbledore and then to Harry. Seeing Dumbledore return the gesture, Harry felt inclined to do the same.

"Nadakashi-san, this is Harry Potter," said Dumbledore. "Harry, this is Mr. Nadakashi. He is somewhat of an expert on everything Japanese."

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry.

"No, Mr. Potter, it is I who am pleased to meet you," replied Mr. Nadakashi in perfect English. "So, Albus, what brings you to my shop?"

"Harry, show Mr. Nadakashi why we are here," said Dumbledore. Harry stepped forward and withdrew the sword from inside his cloak. He extended the handle to Mr. Nadakashi. He took it gently in both hands. He walked over to the counter. There, he switched on an electric desk lamp and began to examine the sword closely.

"Hmm. Interesting," he muttered as he examined the sword. "Two sixteenths of an inch thick, one whole inch wide, twenty eight inches in length; solid stainless steel; it is ever so light, less than two kilos I would say. The hand guard is carved from Black Glass, very hard substance; the hand is bound in genuine Japanese silk, covered in a twenty-four carat gold mesh. This is priceless. A genuine sixteenth century Samurai sword. The figurine on the tip of the handle, again solid gold, the dog has real diamonds for eyes. No, it is not a dog it is a..." There was a few seconds pause. Mr Nadakashi's head slowly turned to look at Harry. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse and his eyes were wide. "Where did you get this?"

"In a antique shop in Surrey," replied Harry.

"This could be...no they were all lost or destroyed."

"What could it be?" asked Harry softly. Mr. Nadakashi paused for a moment and then turned to face Harry.

"Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of the Wolf?"

"No," replied Harry. "Professor?"

"Neither have I," replied Dumbledore.

"How much do you know of Samurai culture?" asked Mr Nadakashi.

"Not a lot," answered Harry honestly.

"Please, have a seat," said Mr. Nadakashi. "I am sure Albus can provide them." Dumbledore nodded and conjured two chairs out of thin air. Harry and he sat down while Mr Nadakashi pulled his own chair around to the front of the counter. "Samurai were bodyguards," he began. "For the most part. They were hired to protect. Have you seen the film Seven Samurai?"

"No," said Harry truthfully. He had seen very few films, and Seven Samurai was not one of them.

"Never mind, then," shrugged Mr Nadakashi. "It wasn't that good, anyway. They were bodyguards and rich families would often hire them. If a Samurai failed and his master was killed, he would cease to be a Samurai and would become a Ronin. Ronin were then honour-bound to avenge the death of their master. With me so far?"

"Yes."

"In the early sixteen hundreds, there was a very wealthy man; a wizard, who hired nine Samurai as his personal guard. His name is lost in history but the story goes that he was kind and unprejudiced. As a noblemen, he hired many people to work on his lands; he hired both Magical and Muggle families. This policy was frowned upon by many of the other noblemen of the time. One of them above all others, Agar-Qui; a man obsessed with the purity of blood. Agar-Qui launched a private war on this man's family and lands. This conflict lasted five years before it ended with the poisoned arrow of an assassin. The nine Samurai became Ronin and set about their quest. By quirk of fate, the nine were all wizards. They tracked the assassin for a month before catching him. Before they killed him, the assassin confirmed the identity of his employer as being Agar-Qui. The Nine forged their new swords. Their best steel, their master's gold and silk and as a test of bravery, each had to go into the active volcanoes on the island of Miyakejima to recover the black glass. The sand, on the edge of the lava is heated and cools as glass, but it is not pure; molten rock and ash are combined with the glass, giving it a black colour and making it much, much harder. Magical spells act upon the blade. It is unbreakable, it will repel any curse with one obvious exception and it will never blunt. Their master kept wolves as pets. They were his fondest companions and in his honour, they became known as the Brotherhood of the Wolf. Nine swords were made. I believe you have found one of the Nine."

"And what happened after they had the swords?" ventured Harry.

"They went after the man. They had to kill him but it was agreed to kill him by the Sword, a Muggle weapon; something he despised. They would not give him the honour of dying in a wizard's duel; he would die by a Muggle weapon; the sword. It took them nearly half a year and the lives of five of them but they got him. After their task was complete, the Brotherhood of the Wolf vowed that they would forever fight Dark Wizards in Japan. They went their separate ways. Three are lost into History. They became bounty hunters and one assumes that they were eventually killed. But one of them started a sort of school for Assassins. The Temple of the Wolf was built, hidden from Magical and Muggle folk alike. It is said The Master and his decedents would find those on the path of revenge and teach them the ways of the wolf."

"The school still exists?" Harry felt his curiosity boiling.

"According to legend. No one can find it, but allegedly, if one is worthy enough and has been wronged, then yes, it does exist. I assume you would like to see it, wouldn't you. I see it in your eyes, you want to know if you are worthy enough to be taught the Deadly Arts."

"Well, not when you phrase it like that," replied Harry.

"The hypocrisy of the English tongue," laughed Mr Nadakashi. "It is perfectly acceptable to learn self-defence even though it teaches you to hurt people, it is fine to learn to use a sword as long as it is called defence but as soon as the same skill is referred to as a Deadly Art you want nothing to do with it."

"I don't want to kill anyone," said Harry firmly. He was not a murderer. He was nothing like Tom Riddle.

"Don't you?" mused Mr Nadakashi. "Not even You-Know-Who? It is so much simpler to kill the Muggle way. You can just pretend they are a dummy or swing blindly. But to use the killing curse, nothing but pure hatred and bloodlust can cause that."

"How do you know all this?" asked Harry.

"I have read enough books and studied Samurai for long enough to know what training involves and their legends."

"Harry," said Dumbledore softly. "I sense that you are considering going after this 'Brotherhood of the Wolf'. Remember what I said to you. It is our choices that govern who we are. You will know the good from the bad. What does your heart tell you about this?"

"I don't know," said Harry honestly. "I feel like I should try but I can't tell if it is my heart or my head talking."

"The path has forked, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You must choose which path to take. I cannot choose for you, I also can't stop you if you choose to go. This is all down to you; one of the curses of being an adult."

Harry stood in silence. It was all down to him. What to do? He could go home, forget it. He had managed to use the sword once without any training. But then again, they had been harmless spells and he had been lucky. If he went after the Brotherhood, he could learn to use the sword. But the sword wouldn't block the Killing Curse His training would take ages, he didn't even know if he could or if he could even find the school. Then there was the whole point of the school; Killing. Could he kill? Could he knowingly take someone's life? He didn't think he was capable of killing anyone, he knew for a fact he couldn't use the Killing Curse, but Mr Nadakashi was right. Killing the Muggle way must be easier; he could pretend Voldemort was a straw dummy and he wouldn't need to succumb to such pure hate as to use the Killing Curse. Voldemort would fall to the weapon of that which he despised the most, a Muggle.

"I think I will go after them," said Harry at last. It couldn't hurt to try. He may not even find the Temple of the Wolf. It wouldn't hurt to try. He felt a bit sorry for Dumbledore. He felt like he was betraying him, asking for another teacher.

"So be it," sighed Dumbledore, displaying no hint of emotion. "You have made your choice. I now wait to see if you regret it."

"I hope I won't," replied Harry.

"Only time will tell," said Dumbledore. "The Christmas break seems a good time to begin your search. Up until then, I suggest you concentrate on your studies. NEWTs should not be taken lightly."

"Of course," said Harry. Now he had something to occupy him over Christmas, searching for a Temple that can't be found. He had three months to wait. Voldemort seemed to have quietened down of late. Harry supposed he could wait three months. Patience was not one of his virtues, but this was one thing he would have to wait for.

They thanked Mr. Nadakashi and prepared to leave. Harry sheathed the sword and tucked it under his robes again. They walked back out into the street. Harry had to cover his eyes at first due to the brightness of the day after the darkness of the shop. When he could see comfortably again, he turned to Dumbledore. He did, in fact, have a small request for the Headmaster, but he was unsure whether Dumbledore would grant it. He was, after all, a target in a war.

"Ready, Harry?" asked the Headmaster.

"Sir," began Harry. "While we are in a Muggle town, could we stay a while? I have one or two things to do." Dumbledore gave him an appraising look and then looked up and down the street. Harry could see that he was thinking it over. He reached his conclusion.

"Certainly," he said softly. "Do you wish me to stay with you?"

"Do you wish to stay?"

"You have the Amulet, Harry, that will return you to Grimmauld Place if you get into trouble. You have Alastor's 'gift' on don't you?"

Harry tapped his chest and the sound of flesh hitting metal could be heard. He was wearing Moody's Flack Jacket under his T-Shirt.

"Please surrender your wand," said Dumbledore with an odd expression that Harry couldn't read.

"Why?"

"I am possibly saving you from yourself. In the unlikely event of an emergency, use the Amulet. That is what it is there for. If I take your wand then should any trouble occur, you will be unable to get involved and will use the amulet to escape. It is not that I don't trust you, Harry. I am just taking precautions against your own instincts."

"So I can wander about freely, but I can't defend myself?" asked Harry. He couldn't follow Dumbledore's logic.

"I am being overly protective, Harry. There is nothing of any advantage to Voldemort in this town. You stand little chance of encountering a squib, let alone a Death Eater. However, if you did, your first instinct would be to draw your wand and fight, correct?"

"I guess so," muttered Harry. It was a little harsh but he knew the Headmaster was right.

"So if I take away the temptation to risk your life, you will follow your next instinct. The one for survival. That way, you will use the Amulet and save yourself rather than risking your life. We can't have you killed before the war even begins, can we?"

"Fine," muttered Harry. He removed his wand from the waistband of his combats and handed it to Dumbledore.

"Then I bid you farewell," said Dumbledore. "I too have business to attend to. Just remember, any sign of trouble, use the Amulet. Don't gamble with your life. You should be safe enough here, but if anything happens, use the Amulet." Dumbledore turned and walked away down the street, presumably looking for a safe Apparating point. Harry watched him go before turning the other way and continuing down the High Street. He walked for nearly half a mile before he came across what he wanted, a barber's shop. He was a bit dubious about using a magical one in case they had an official Harry Potter style, and he didn't trust strangers to point wands at his head.

Harry emerged ten minutes later and five pounds poorer. He had had his hair cut shorter than before. On the top it was about an inch and a half long and the front spiked roughly up into a messy quiff with gel. He still had the patch of white hair above his right eye. Having his fringe spiked up it left his scar perfectly visible. It occurred to him that this scar gave him his power; he shouldn't hide it. This simple scar was a sign of hope for so many Wizards across the country. It was a part of him and he couldn't change that. He could either hide it or live with it. He had chosen the latter option. He popped into Superdrug to buy a pot of gel so that he could redo his hair the next day.

Harry stood for a few seconds in the doorway to the barber. Looking either way down the street he saw hundred of people going about their business completely oblivious to who he was, completely unaware of the danger they were in. This is the life, thought Harry. People who didn't judge him by a legend he couldn't live up to. People who didn't know him for doing something he couldn't even remember. Maybe I'll retire here, Harry thought to himself.

He turned left and continued down the road. He occasionally paused to look in the windows of shops. He was completely disinterested in CD players and other toys that normal boys his age would be drooling over. He passed by the Panasonic shop, straight past a 50inch widescreen TV without thinking twice. Harry looked in clothes shops; he wandered in and out of sweet shops, toyshops, department stores, and was very tempted to have a look in Ann Summers Lingerie shop but decided against it. The high street came to an abrupt end. What faced him was a giant building. It wasn't tall but it was very wide and very long. It was shaped like a barn except it covered five times the space. It was an indoor market. Harry wasn't here to do anything else specific; he was just wandering around, enjoying his afternoon off. He walked straight through the open door into the market.

Stalls selling fruit, vegetables, videos, jewellery and all sorts of things, lined every wall and there were many others in the middle of the room. The building was fall of people all bustling to get to the stools to be served. Harry wandered past the stools taking in the sights and sounds of Muggle life.

This was what he could have been doing, had Hagrid not taken him away. Harry was enjoying himself. It was freedom; for the last half hour, he had managed to forget he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He was out in public without a bodyguard or an escort. He felt normal. He was spending his weekend shopping in a relaxed environment. He hadn't felt this free since his first trip to Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade today was quite different. MLE patrols were everywhere. Aurors would join their subordinates from time to time. The whole town was locked up tighter than Malfoy's conscience.

Harry notice that there was a stage set up against up the right wall. It was about five metres by ten. School children were performing a dance routine. Others were going around with buckets, collecting change from those watching. The banner above the stage read,

St. Oliver's Primary School

Proudly Present

A Blue Peter Help the Aged Appeal

When a young boy in red with a bucket came by, Harry dropped a few Muggle coins into the bucket. Harry always carried a little Sterling on him in case he had to buy something in a Muggle shop. The dance routine ended to applause by the audience. The children all joined hands and bowed to the audience. Harry wondered if Dudley had had to do anything like that when he was at school. The image of Dudley in a Tutu popped into his head. He managed to not vomit but couldn't stifle a grin. He joined in with the applause, sinking into the atmosphere of the market.

The children disappeared behind the backdrop of the stage. It appeared that the show was over. Harry made his way towards the nearest door. He had browsed around long enough; he even brought an ice cream from one stall on his way around. He decided to leave and wander back up the high street. Harry was a few metres from the door, when suddenly and for no reason it swung closed. No one had touched it, whoever had closed it had done so using Magic. There were several loud bangs as the four other doors to the building slammed shut apparently of their own accord.

Bollocks! thought Harry. This couldn't be good. His right hand shot to his pocket, but found it empty. Of course! Dumbledore had taken his wand. He was 'protecting Harry from himself'. Harry dropped his ice cream into a bin as he hurried to the door. He was unarmed except for the sword. He was seconds away from drawing it when a thought occurred to him. Hang on, thought Harry. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. This could just be Muggle-Baiters.

"Hey! What the 'ell's goin' on?" asked a gruff voice behind him. There was a crowd gathering by the doors. Muggles were getting impatient. There was a bundle forming at the door as people pushed to get to the front.

"This is bloody disgraceful!" Harry heard one man say.

"This is a bloody fire hazard," said an old woman. "If there was a fire we'd all be trapped!"

"Move aside," said a boy about Harry's age. He was short stumpy, ugly and had a shaved head. He looked like a pug except he was wearing a Ben Sherman shirt and a Burberry hat. The boy twisted the door handle and rattled the door though it remained defiantly locked. He took a step back and kicked the door, again nothing. This time the boy took a few paces back and ran at the door. He dived with his shoulder at the door. There was a twanging sound and the boy was launched halfway across the room. The door remained firmly locked. Imperturbable Charm, thought Harry. Mrs Weasley had used the same charm to protect the Order's meetings from the twins' Extendable Ears.

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting sound. Harry covered his ears but it only lasted a second. Harry looked over to where the sound had come from. It was from the microphone on the stage. A man stood there now, he wore a long black jacket and jeans. His black jacket was covered in brightly covered shapes. Yellow circles, red squares, Green triangles and blue stars were sewn onto the fabric. He had dark hair and was topped by a large black bowler hat with a stuffed parrot attached to the top of it. He was standing in the middle of the stage. Behind him were two wardrobes. The crowd, their attention drawn by the sound of the microphone screeching, also turned to face him. The man took a slow look around and then raised the microphone to his mouth.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, gather round for you are about to witness the greatest show in the Universe! I Marvin the Magnificent will amaze you, astound you and drive your senses crrrrraaaaazzzzyyyyy! For my first trick, you sir, step forth!"

A nervous looking man climbed up onto the stage before Marvin the Great. For some reason, Harry felt himself being drawn to the stage. As he looked around the other members of the crowd also moved towards the stage, all thought of being trapped forgotten.

"You sir! What's your name?" asked Marvin, holding the microphone up to the man's mouth.

"Graham," said the man with a grin at the crowd.

"This is Graham everybody," beamed Marvin. "Let's all give Graham a nice warm welcome." There was a half-hearted clap from the audience, though it was obviously good enough for Marvin. Everyone, including Harry, was drawn towards the stage. Even Harry had forgotten about being trapped. All he felt was a curiosity of what Marvin was going to do. "Now on the count of three, I am going to make Graham here fly, yes you heard right, fly! Graham, have you ever seen Superman?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of heights, Graham?"

"No."

"Good, now, Audience. I need you to help me here. Count with me. FIVE! FOUR!"

The crowd joined in with the count.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!"

Nothing happened. There was a quiet rumble amongst the crowd.

"Graham, I think we did something wrong," grinned Marvin. "Of course, I forgot my wand! Why didn't you remind me? OK, here it is!" He withdrew a short stick from his pocket.

Jesus, thought Harry. That's a real wand! The sight of a real wand shocked Harry out of his stupor. What had come over him? Why had he been entranced by the show? It was too late to worry about that. Quickly, he made his way through the crowd towards the stage.

"Once more now folks," cried Marvin. "FIVE! FOUR!..."

Harry pushed past people desperate to get to the stage in time to stop this. There were cries as he crashed into people but Harry had no time to apologise. He was probably doing them a favour, snapping them out of their little trancelike state.

"THREE! TWO!"

He wasn't going to make it! He still had several metres to go and the crowd was very thick near the front.

"ONE! Wingardium Leviosa!" A look of pure astonishment crossed Graham's face as he was levitated a few feet from the ground. He hovered a foot or two off of the stage. There was a gasp from the audience, which soon erupted into applause.

Harry reached the front of the stage. He paused; the man had only used a hovering charm. That was a breach of the Statute of Secrecy but at least he wasn't doing any harm. He was just out to make a bit of money by performing Magic for Muggles. It was a misdemeanour but Harry had thought he was a Death Eater; he thought that the man was going to use Cruciatus on poor old Graham. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. As he felt himself settle back into watching the show, a disturbing thought occurred to him. He was sure he recognised Marvin. Something stirred at the back of Harry's mind. Marvin looked familiar. He could not think where he had seen Marvin but he knew he had seen him before.

On stage Marvin lowered Graham back to the stage. He shook his hand before presenting him with a bar of chocolate. There was loud applause from the audience. Harry looked around; even the stall keepers had forgotten their business and were watching. Shopping was a distant memory.

"Did you like that?" asked Marvin. The applause became even louder. "Just remember that when the money bucket comes around!" The crowd laughed and then the noise died down. The crowd waited from Marvin's next trick. "Right, for my next trick I will need another volunteer. How about you, Madam?" He pointed to someone near the front of the crowd.

A young girl, about fifteen years old, was pushed forward. Marvin took her hand and helped her up onto the stage.

"And what is your name, young lady?" asked Marvin with a grin. He held the microphone up to her mouth.

"Mary," replied the girl with a giggle.

"Now Mary, are you afraid of the dark?" asked Marvin.

"A bit," said Mary; she now looked quite nervous.

"Well, Mary," said Marvin. "I'll tell you what we'll do. If you come over her, darling..." He led her over to one of the wardrobes. "...If you climb in here..." He opened the wardrobe and the girl nervously climbed inside. "Are you OK?" asked Marvin. The girl nodded. "Tell you what," said Marvin into the microphone. "I'll give you this torch so that it isn't dark when I close the door." He produced a normal torch from his pocket. He turned it on and it gave a bright light. He handed it to Mary and closed the door. He called to her though the door.

"Are you alright, Darling?" he asked.

"Yes," came a soft voice from inside the wardrobe.

Marvin turned to face the crowd. He quickly checked his watch.

"Right, Ladies and gentlemen, for my next trick...on second thought, that was a bit cruel of me, locking poor Mary in there by herself wasn't it. Shall I let her out?" asked Marvin. As the crowd called 'YES' and a few boys shouted 'NO' rather rudely, Marvin crossed the stage to the wardrobe. He opened the door and the whole audience gasped.

Mary had disappeared.

"That's odd!" said Marvin. "I seemed to have misplaced Mary. Do you know where she is?" he asked the crowd. He crossed to the second wardrobe. "Could she be in here?" he asked. He pulled opened the door and sure enough, there was Mary. She looked a bit pale but she was smiling. Marvin helped her out and presented her with a bar of chocolate.

Harry clapped as well. He could guess how he had done it. It was a very simple trick. The torch must be a Portkey. Harry couldn't help smiling. Although it was illegal, it was quite entertaining to watch. Marvin, although naughty, was putting on a good show. At the end he would probably go into a wardrobe and Disapparate to get away from the MLE patrols. He would say he was going to magic himself away. The potential for drawing crowds with simple tricks was huge. What bothered Harry was that he was sure he had seen Marvin before. Maybe he was wrong. The top hat with the parrot covered part of his face. Maybe Harry was just being paranoid. But, he could picture Marvin; he could have sworn he had seen him before. He could picture him; he was wearing a cloak. No surprise there, he was a wizard after all. He was standing in front of a painting. It was a picture of an old woman. The woman looked familiar. It looked a bit like Mrs. Black, Sirius' mother. But it couldn't be, Marvin had never been to Grimmauld Place, Harry recognised him but he didn't know him. The picture had been sent to Bellatrix. Marvin may have visited her, but since Harry hadn't, he couldn't have seen him at Bellatrix's house. It can't be Mrs Black in the painting, or if it is, then it must be another branch of the Black family. Maybe Harry was just being paranoid. Marvin clearly wasn't a Death Eater. He was a common petty criminal trying to make a living.

Marvin having ushered Mary off the stage, turned to face the crowd again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, sadly, I am running out of time. I have time for only one more trick! So I had better make it spectacular!" There was loud cheering from the audience. Someone even threw a five-pound note at Marvin.

"Thank you, Madam." Marvin beamed. "I'll treat myself to a drink. If this doesn't work I'll need a nip of brandy!" There was a bout of laughter from the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," began Marvin. He had adopted a false American DJ's voice. "Without further ado here is my last trick. Marvin the Magnificent's one and only Monster Extravaganza, brought to you, in part, by Lord Voldemort productions..."

Harry froze; did he just say what I think he said? Of course! That was where he had seen Marvin. When Voldemort sent him the dream of the Death Eaters arriving back after the attack on the train. They must have been in the Lestrange house. The painting on the wall was Mrs Black; Marvin had been there. He was a Death Eater! Marvin continued...

"Please welcome my assistants, the DEMENTORS OF AZKABAN!"