Stormseeker: Unwanted Destiny

Chapter 15: A New Hogwarts

---

Summer comes to an end, and we go to King's Cross Station to take the Hogwarts Express back to school for another year. Hermione's still pretty quiet after the recent death of her parents, and I supplied her with Dreamless Sleep potion the first couple nights.

"I'm going to go sit with Neville and Dean," Hermione says. "Thank you for letting me stay at your house, Harry."

"You're welcome anytime," I say. "See you in class."

I spot Luna in a compartment by herself, and go in to sit with her, Cassie and Draco coming along with me. I mutter a wandless privacy spell, just knowing that Luna is likely to spout off something incriminating.

"Hello, Stormseeker," Luna says dreamily. "Who did you murder over the summer?"

I smirk. "Hello, Luna. Nice to see you again, too. I briefly teamed up with the Dark Lord in order to oppose the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Oh, I see," Luna says lightly. "Seeing a different Lord of Magic as Headmaster will be interesting. But there will be so many nargles..."

When we arrive at school, we come in and watch the Sorting. I'm hardly paying attention to who is being sorted where at this point. I don't even know most of these people. My attention is drawn more toward the staff table. There are some unfamiliar faces there, and a few that are surprising. Narcissa Malfoy? Is she teaching something now?

"Hmm," Luna says, looking up there as well. "Dumbledore always had a lot of wrackspurts around him. They aren't even going near Headmaster Riddle."

Following the Opening Feast, Tom stands up and says, "Welcome to all to another year at Hogwarts. I am your new Headmaster, Tom Riddle. As you may have noticed, we have had some curriculum changes this year. Allow me to introduce our new and returning teachers. Professor Lupin will be teaching Magical Creatures. Professor Crouch is now teaching Battle Magic instead. Professor Quirrell is returning to teach Muggle Studies once again, now a requirement for all wizard-raised children. Narcissa Malfoy has generously come to teach Wizarding Culture, now a requirement for all Muggle-raised children, to help integrate them into our society. And we have a new teacher for History of Magic this year as well. Allow me to introduce Gellert Grindelwald."

There's a flurry of whispers and murmurs about the room at this announcement. What's this about? Should I know who this is?

"Yes, that's right," Tom says. "He has been given special dispensation to teach here in order to commute his prison sentence. He will not be permitted to carry a wand. And if any of you here today do not know who he is, that's a sure sign that a new teacher for History of Magic was sorely needed."

"I wonder how he ever managed to swing that," Cassie murmurs.

"This is going to be an interesting year..." Draco says.

"Am I missing something?" I say. "Who is Grindelwald?"

Everyone within earshot gives me a look. "Seriously?" Draco says. "You have no idea?"

"Should I?" I say dumbly.

Draco snorts in amusement. "No, no, I think I'll leave that to him."

---

We start in with classes. There's a subdued tone hanging over the school following Dumbledore's death. But since nobody seems to know that Tom Riddle is actually the Dark Lord, nor that it was me who killed Dumbledore, they don't have any immediate target for their feelings.

I'm kind of dreading my first class of Muggle Studies, now that I know Quirrell will be teaching it. I really hope that he isn't going to be stuttering his way through everything.

"So," Quirrell says, looking over the class. "How many of you have ever had a Muggle Studies class before? Oh? Some of you here actually took it as an elective? Imagine that. The rest of you are, what, purebloods, and half-bloods who have had little to no exposure to the Muggle world, am I right?"

"Yes, sir," murmurs the class.

"You're fourteen years old, and you know not half so much of the world as you think you do," Quirrell says. "You've all been looking at the magical world as if that's all there is. Or that Muggles are merely the barbarians flinging spears outside the gates of civiliation. Can anyone tell me how many Muggles there are in the world? Does anyone care to take a guess?"

"Ten thousand?" Draco suggests.

"Ten thousand!" Quirrell exclaims, snorting. "There are only ten thousand wizards in all of Britain! Anyone else have a better guess?"

"A million?" suggests Blaise.

"No," Quirrell says. "Keep going."

"Ten million?"

"A hundred million?"

"A billion?" suggests Neville.

"Don't be ridiculous," says Draco. "There couldn't be a billion Muggles in the world."

"In fact," Quirrell says. "There are five and a half billion Muggles in the world."

"That's impossible!" Draco cries.

"A single one of their cities could swallow up the entirety of the wizarding world," Quirrell says. "And their population continues to grow, while we fight pointless wars with one another and destroy our own future."

I'm a little terrified of the fact that Tom was clearly listening to me. When I spouted off all those things I said to him, I never expected him to listen, nor to actually do anything about it.

"In the last century, Muggle technology has improved by leaps and bounds," Quirrell goes on. "You may not think much of it. You see their automobiles, their contraptions you don't understand, and think them to be just simple little toys. You may not realize that, within as little as a decade, it may become impossible for us to hide any longer."

"But they don't have magic," Draco says. "What could they possibly do without magic?"

"In 1876, they came up with a device that could allow them to instantly communicate with others across the world," Quirrell says. "These devices are now ubiquitous. 1903, they built a machine that could fly despite being made of metal. Now, large aircraft can take people all over the world. In 1945, they activated a weapon that killed hundreds of thousands of people. Then they put a man on the moon in 1969."

Draco has shut up by this point, clearly re-evaluating his ideas of what is "possible" or not. As for me, I'm fascinated. I had always thought that magic was the only way to accomplish much of anything. But Muggles don't know about magic, and they don't view its lack as any sort of handicap. And they have accomplished things that we cannot achieve even with our magic. I want to learn more.

"And do you realize that anywhere you walk in the Muggle world, you could be being watched by cameras?" Quirrell goes on. "That even if you Obliviate any witnesses, there might still be recordings? How long until we cannot hide any longer? How long until our spells are not good enough to keep them from realizing that we're here? We must know what we're up against, and we must be prepared."

As we head out of class, one of my classmates says, "That was so completely different from the Muggle Studies I took last year. Professor Burbage always treated Muggles like something quaint to be studied like ants. Professor Quirrell seems to treat them like an enemy to prepare for war against..."

"Aren't they?" Draco puts in.

"Muggles sound dangerous," Neville says.

I, on the other hand, have to imagine to myself all the ways that I could kill Sedder, the one who killed my family and destroyed my future, with Muggle technology that he would never have prepared for himself.

---

"Welcome to History of Magic. I am Gellert Grindelwald, here to teach you so that you may never repeat the mistakes that I made. It is my hope that none of you might ever wind up defeated by one who was once a friend, and locked up in a prison you built yourself for fifty years."

"You were Dumbledore's friend?" Draco asks.

"Oh, yes," Grindelwald says. "We were quite close at one point. Once, we might have even sought to rule the world together, for the sake of the greater good. But now? I am a broken and defeated man, in no state to rule anything any longer even if I still wished it."

It's hard to imagine that this frail old man, without a wand, could be a threat to anyone any longer.

"Up until a few short weeks ago, I longed for death to finally come and claim me, and free me from the walls of my prison," Grindelwald says. "That I am able to stand here before you today is a miracle beyond hope. I am grateful to have been given the chance to seek some penance for the crimes of my youth."

I can't imagine being locked in one place for fifty years. I would probably have killed myself long before then, or driven myself mad trying to escape one way or another.

"I'm afraid that I must apologize, however," Grindelwald says. "I know little about teaching, lesson plans, or any of that, and I'm still adjusting to having even some semblance of freedom again, and speaking with other people. So please forgive that our first lessons will probably primarily consist of my ramblings of old stories."

"I hadn't even heard of you before this term," I admit.

"This certainly beats Goblin Rebellions," Terry mutters.

Grindelwald spends the remainder of the class going on about his rise to power and eventual defeat at the hands of Dumbledore. As we get out from class, he calls me into his office to speak with me in private.

"You're Harry Potter," Grindelwald says. "The boy they say defeated Lord Voldemort as an infant?"

"So they say," I reply neutrally.

"And no doubt bound to fight him later..." Grindelwald says. "Now that he has apparently returned, I imagine he'll be wanting revenge upon you. You'll have your work cut out for you if you want to defeat him. Especially now."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I heard about Albus Dumbledore's death," Grindelwald says. "I don't know that I can bring myself to be upset about that, all things considered. But if Voldemort killed Albus, that would mean that he now has the Elder Wand."

"What's that?" I ask.

"One of the Deathly Hallows," Grindelwald says. "I was fascinated by them in my youth, and I'd even managed to get my hands upon one of them. I stole the Elder Wand, also known as the Deathstick, or the Wand of Destiny, from the wandmaker Gregorovitch, who was studying it, and stunned him to gain mastery of it. It's a powerful wand, said to be impossible to defeat in a duel, although the legends are clearly exaggerated." He gives a bitter laugh.

I knew the wand I'd taken from Dumbledore's corpse was powerful. I could feel that much just by touching it. But that it's actually a legendary artifact? I peer about and mutter a privacy spell, just in case. I'm paranoid.

"You're not upset about Dumbledore's death?" I say.

"I've long since stopped being sad about what our friendship came to," Grindelwald says. "And once I yearned for revenge upon him for what he did to me. But I'd given up even on that by the time I was released."

I hesitate about telling him. The fewer people who know the truth, the better, after all. "Tell me more about the Elder Wand."

"Its origins are shrouded in legend," Grindelwald says. "The first known master of the wand was Antioch Peverell. According to legend, the Elder Wand was fashioned by Death himself, and given to Antioch. Whether this is true or not is a matter open for debate. Antioch was murdered in his sleep, and since then, the wand has cut a long and bloody path across history."

"And the Deathly Hallows you mentioned?" I ask.

"Three artifacts said to have been given to the Peverell brothers by Death himself," Grindelwald says. "The Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone. It's said that the one who unites the Hallows will become the Master of Death."

"What does that mean?" I wonder.

"No one knows for sure," Grindelwald says. "It's never happened before."

"What makes the Cloak of Invisibility different from just any invisibility cloak?" I ask.

"It provides nearly perfect invisibility, and its power will never fade with time," Grindelwald says. "A normal invisibility cloak will become opaque with age, compromised by rips and tears and other spells."

Could I possibly have that one, too? The cloak I have belonged to James Potter, so it's hardly new. I have no idea where he got it from. Has it been passed down through his family for generations?

"And the Resurrection Stone?" I ask.

"Said to be able to return the dead to life," Grindelwald says.

"I see," I say thoughtfully. "Legends are all well and good, but I have to wonder what the truth of the matter is with regards to these three items."

"Who can say?" Grindelwald says. "I would have liked to have studied them, but even the wandmaker Gregorovitch was unable to unlock the true secrets of the Elder Wand and duplicate its power."

"Regardless, were you trying to give me advice on fighting the Dark Lord?" I say.

"Or perhaps to leave fighting him to those who are older and more experienced than you," Grindelwald says. "If he could take down even one of Albus's skill, perhaps he is worthy of the title."

"If I were to seek to attempt to defeat him, I'd be more interested in finding a way to defeat whatever means he used to gain immortality, than about whether or not I could beat him in a duel," I say. "And frankly, I'm not really interested in fighting him at the moment. I'm interested in learning."

"But how long until he deems you a threat and comes for you?" Grindelwald says. "How long until he demands revenge for his defeat years ago?"

"I don't know if he could have defeated Dumbledore in a fair fight," I say.

"Did he not do so?" Grindelwald says. "What form of foul play did he employ against Albus?"

To the Abyss with it. Taking risks is far more interesting, and it's not like Grindelwald is a threat in his current state. I could always get Tom to Obliviate him if need be. I give a wicked grin and pull out the Elder Wand from my bag.

"Wait... is that?" Grindelwald says in startlement, staring at the wand.

"Tell you a secret, Grindelwald?" I say. "I killed Dumbledore."

Grindelwald gapes at me. "How? You're just a boy!"

"I am more than I appear to be, and less than I wish to be," I reply enigmatically. "I couldn't have defeated him in a fair fight, either. I caught him by surprise with the Killing Curse while his attention was on the Dark Lord. He never saw my betrayal coming."

Grindelwald stares at me. "What manner of boy are you? All that I have heard from the other teachers is that you are a model student, never breaks rules, never gets in trouble. Clearly, you are good at hiding your true nature. Even Durmstrang found my experiments to be too much for them, and expelled me. If they had any idea about you..."

"I have many secrets," I say, grinning. "Who knows what exactly lies behind the mask?"

"You remind me a little of myself," Grindelwald says. "And where might your future lead? Here, look at this."

Grindelwald points toward a picture on the wall of a snow-covered castle. As I gaze at it, wondering what I'm supposed to be seeing, I feel something strike my back, and I go sprawling. I barely keep hold of the wand, and tumble over to see Grindelwald, holding a chair. Before I can get off a spell, he slams it into me again.

Faster than I thought the old man could move, Grindelwald snatches the wand out of my hand and binds me in conjured ropes. "To think that, not only could I have a chance at freedom, but the Elder Wand finds its way back to me once again," Grindelwald says, looking at the wand almost in awe.

"Sorry, but I'm not going down that easily," I say, building up the rage needed to cast my signature spell. "Fulgoris!"

Lightning bursts from all around me, striking everything in the room. Electricity rips painfully through my body. Hurt too badly. Too much pain. Can't move. I charged my spell up too much, and it has killed me as well.

---

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorm. Right, I will not be letting Grindelwald find out that I have the Elder Wand. Probably best that no one finds out about it.

Making sure the curtains are still wrapped around my bed, I picked up my bag and pull the Elder Wand out of it. It still feels like it's connected to me, acknowledging me as its master. Either it recognizes that I killed Grindelwald again and won its allegiance back, or it isn't as savvy about Time as my pine wand is.

I go through my classes again, and this time, when Grindelwald calls me into his office to try to warn me about the Elder Wand, I keep my mouth shut about who really killed Dumbledore.

"Thank you for the warning," I say. "I appreciate it. Perhaps it would be best if you didn't say anything about the Elder Wand in your lectures? Dumbledore never mentioned that he even had it. I've certainly never heard of it before today." Not that that's saying much, since I hadn't even heard of Grindelwald before this term.

"Yes, perhaps," Grindelwald says. "I doubt he even realizes what he has, if he even thought to take Albus's wand from him at all."

"If that will be all, sir, I should be going," I say. "My friends are waiting for me."

"Yes, of course," Grindelwald says. "Run along, then."

I head out to meet up with Cassie and Draco for dinner. "What did Grindelwald want to talk to you about?" Draco says. "Merlin, that still sounds weird. Grindelwald teaching History!"

"Oh, just some stuff about the Dark Lord," I say, shrugging. "Nothing much."

Draco seems to take that at face value, but I can tell by Cassie's look that she isn't fooled that easily. She doesn't press me about it right now, though, at least.

After dinner, I take Cassie aside in private and tell her all about what happened, and my suspicions that I apparently have two of the three Deathly Hallows.

"Definitely a good idea not to tell him too much," Cassie agrees. "As for the Hallows, well, I'm familiar with the story, and legends generally have some basis in fact. But I really doubt that Death himself actually made these items. And what does the Master of Death even mean? You arguably already are the Master of Death, in a way."

"I'm not exactly going out of my way to track down the Resurrection Stone," I say. "I wouldn't even know where to begin, anyway."

---

That weekend, Tom calls me into the Headmaster's office.

"Yes, Headmaster?" I say politely. "You wished to see me?"

"Not precisely," Tom says. He jerks a finger toward the portrait of Dumbledore hanging on the wall. "He did."

"I see," I say. I'd seen all the paintings of prior Headmasters hanging on the wall, but it hadn't occurred to me that Dumbledore would get one already as well.

"I'll leave you to that," Tom says, stepping into the next room and leaving me alone in the office.

Dumbledore narrows his eyes at me. "I'm surprised that you dared to come and face me, after all that Tom told me about, assuming what he says is true."

"I don't see why I shouldn't," I say. "And I'm sure it was."

"So, how long were you plotting to murder me?" Dumbledore's portrait asks.

"About five minutes," I reply.

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "Might I know why you felt the need to betray me?"

"Dumbledore..." I say. "Would you have been willing to sacrifice your life, if it meant that dozens of others could be saved?"

"Of course," Dumbledore says.

"He was going to kill them all, you know," I say. "And had. Everyone hiding out at that house, I don't know how many were there. I convinced him to take a less bloody course, but it was not one without its price."

"And that price was my life?" Dumbledore says. "Do you really trust him not to start slaughtering people for having the wrong blood again?"

"That doesn't seem to be what he's doing now," I say. "Right now, all that's left to me is to stay the course and see where it might lead. If that course winds up with us fighting again, I can only hope that I will be better prepared for it."

"And for all of that, he asked you to slay me," Dumbledore says.

"No," I say. "He did not. I chose to."

"Why?" Dumbledore says.

"For Harry Potter," I say quietly. "I killed you to save my own life, but the rage that powered the spell was for Harry Potter."

"I see," Dumbledore says, looking contrite. "Perhaps this end was a deserved one, then. All the mistakes I've made through my life, finally come to a head. Perhaps it's better this way, and that when you do finally have to stand against Voldemort, you might stand a chance of winning."

"Perhaps," I say.

"Tell me, has he been doing a good job as Headmaster so far?" Dumbledore asks.

"I can't argue with his decisions," I say. "I'm actually rather impressed at some of the things he's done. I doubt many of us would have wound up taking Muggle Studies if he hadn't made it a requirement. And when I talked to Hermione Granger, she was positively gleeful about the new Wizarding Culture class required for Muggle-raised wizards. And if I have to actually pay attention to History of Magic, at least he's brought in someone who doesn't just drone on about the Goblin Rebellions."

"Who is it?" Dumbledore asks.

"Someone you're apparently familiar with," I say, smirking. "Gellert Grindelwald."

Dumbledore looks at me in shock. "He-- what?"

"He isn't allowed a wand, and he seems remorseful about his actions," I say. Not so remorseful that he's not willing to take a chance at reclaiming his former power, but enough, perhaps. "Would you like to see him as well?"

"I..." Dumbledore says. "No, perhaps it would be best not. I left him there alone for so long, and now I'm dead. What's there to be said? There was no other way it could be. There can be no apologies for doing what needed to be done."

"There are always choices," I say. "And I refuse to accept 'I had no choice' as a valid reason to do anything."

"I could not allow him to continue his reign of terror," Dumbledore says.

"If I can't see any other options, then I will damned well make them myself," I say.

Dumbledore says. "It's far too late, I'm afraid, to try to lecture me on what may or may not be done. I can only hope that the course you've chosen for yourself, and the world, does not end in disaster."

"That's all I really have, isn't it?" I say. "The hope of a thousand worlds."