The Knights Of Walpurgis

Chapter Twenty-Seven: It Never Rains...

Dumbledore stared seriously at Harry across the table.

"Miss Bones and Miss Lovegood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"I see. Well, the Lovegoods are an old wizarding family of long standing. It would be no surprise if they can trace their line back to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Voldemort--"

"Yes. I am in agreement with you - it is unfortunate that he was able to strike while your defences were unprepared. While we think of him as cold, and calculating, never striking unless he is sure, he is capable of seizing the moment, as he did here."

"What do I do now, sir?"

"I think that it would be best if we go and see Rose and Aberforth again, Harry. I would like to see this dream again, and they are the best people to see for it."

Dumbledore stood and raised one arm. Without needing to be told, Fawkes leapt from his perch and crossed the room with a single beat of his fiery red wings. He landed on Dumbledore's arm and the headmaster and Harry each seized a tail feather.

"The Hog's Head please, Fawkes," Dumbledore said.

Fawkes trilled, and the room around them vanished.

*

"Here, Harry, we are safe," Dumbledore said, as the rainbow colours swirled around them. "There is no magic known to man, Dark or Light, that can penetrate the magic of a phoenix in transit. I am concerned for the safety of Miss Lovegood and Miss Bones. They cannot be harmed while at Hogwarts - it is as safe as a place can be, and only those on an approved list held by the Ministry can approach the school. However, when the summer comes, they will return to their homes. There, I cannot protect them.

"Forgive me for asking, Harry, but do you think that you could face Tom successfully now?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No, sir," he said. "I don't know a way of killing him - and that's what you mean, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly, as though unhappy to admit it.

"And... I'm not even sure that I can kill anyone, even him."

Dumbledore nodded. He didn't say anything for a long time, until, "We're nearly there, Harry."

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you-- I mean, have the Wizengamot come to a decision about Mr. Diggory?"

Dumbledore looked serious.

"Yes, they have. After reviewing the decisions taken by the Minister during his term of office, and listening to testimony from Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge, among others, it was decided by a slim margin that there would be a new election. Then either Minister Diggory will retain his seat, or Mr. Fudge will be re-elected."

"But Mr. Fudge said that he saw Voldemort. He did see Voldemort."

"And now he claims that he was mistaken. That what he saw was not what he thought he saw."

"Mr. Malfoy--"

"Lucius Malfoy has been granted a full pardon by the Wizengamot, Harry. He has long-standing proof that he has a particular susceptibility to the Imperius curse, and claims that Voldemort and his followers were using him, as he claimed during the last war."

"But I saw him--"

"Many people saw him, Harry, but he is free. I know that it will pain you to hear this, but you cannot win every battle. No-one can, not even I, not even Voldemort. This is a battle that we cannot win. We will win the war, Harry. I truly believe that."

Harry wished that he shared Dumbledore's confidence. The colours swirled around them slower and slower, and soon Harry felt a slight jerk to one side as they arrived in Hogsmeade. He stood beside Dumbledore, upon whose shoulder Fawkes was perched, and looked up at the sign above the door, marveling slightly at how far things had come since he'd first been here at the start of what had become the Hogwarts Alliance.

Dumbledore rapped several times on the door.

"Aberforth," he said, speaking into the tip of his wand. "Aberforth, wake up. It's most urgent, Aberforth."

Dumbledore leaned in and knocked again. Across the street, a light came on in someone's bedroom, and Dumbledore shuffled Harry slightly further into the shadows that pooled around the pub's door.

Finally, the door creaked open and Aberforth Dumbledore stood before them. Harry boggled momentarily at the sight that the old wizard made. He was dressed in a knee-length striped nightshirt, which revealed knees even knobblier than Harry's own, and skinny calves so pale that Harry wondered if they'd ever seen the sun. The nightshirt was pink, with bright yellow stripes, although this was hard to see behind a beard every bit as long as his brother's. To cap off the outfit, Aberforth was wearing a nightcap the peak of which dangled several feet down his back. He noticed Harry staring at the hat, which was orange and topped with a purple pom-pom, and sighed.

"Before you ask, I sleepwalk," he said. "And I tie the hat to my bedpost so that I can't get very far." He pointed at a piece of string which was tied under his chin, holding the hat in place. "Of course, your godfather found out somehow and set off my fire alarm one night. I jumped out of bed and was halfway to the door before I remembered about this, and then it caught tight and I went flying. I never quite forgave him. I suppose you'd better come in."

Harry heard the faint hooting of an owl as the door swung closed, and then they were alone in the pub.

"You want Rosie as well?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Harry had the whole dream, we think."

"Ah. I'll get her up, then."

Dumbledore and Harry sat down at one of the tables. Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured a plate of toast and a pot of tea, which Harry fell on hungrily. He hadn't realised quite how famished he felt until the food had appeared, and was halfway through his fourth slice of toast when Rose trooped downstairs with Aberforth, yawning as she pulled a shawl around her. She was wearing very sensible flannel pyjamas, although these were rather offset by her flashing neon green socks and gloves.

"Harry, Albus," she said, sleepily.

"Good morning, Rosie," Albus said. "My apologies for waking you."

"You didn't apologise to me," Aberforth objected.

"I wasn't sorry to wake you," his brother replied.

"Oh." Aberforth paused, as though examining this statement from every angle. "Fair enough."

"Rose, did you dream tonight?" Albus asked, as Aberforth busied himself with pouring tea. He drew out a long, thin wand and waved it at the tray of toast. It was instantly replenished, although the bread only looked half-toasted. Aberforth shrugged and took a slice.

"I did," Rosie said. "Yes, I know what you want to talk about. I didn't see a lot, because I was down in the valley, and there was a battle. It's rather easy to get caught up in it all, and I must admit that it didn't occur to me to head up the hill until the fight nearly ended. But I saw Slytherin, and those horrid Knights of his. The Death Eaters?"

Harry nodded.

"I thought so. Well, it's no surprise, I suppose."

"Harry, can you let us in again?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll get my hat--"

"Aberforth, please," Albus said, quietly. Aberforth grimaced, and then took his seat again.

"You're no fun," he said, laying the tips of his long fingers on Harry's temples. "Still, let's see what we can do."

Dumbledore and Rose leaned in on either side of Aberforth, and Harry felt rather as though he were some exhibit in a zoo or a museum. He let out a long breath, and blinked-

-and found himself once more on top of the hill. The four of them watched in silence as the three founders talked, and then greeted Slytherin. Then Slytherin attacked, taking Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw out of the fight early on and nearly killing Gryffindor, before ordering the Knights of Walpurgis to turn on their comrades and side with the Dark army. Harry watched in horror as the slaughter played out before his eyes, and couldn't tear his eyes away, even as Gryffindor broke free of his former friend and dealt him the injury that brought an end to the fight. Finally, he blinked-

-and found himself back in the Hog's Head.

"Gryffindor died a few months after the battle," Dumbledore said quietly. "It is not too great a stretch, I think, to say that the injuries he sustained there were the main cause. As for Slytherin, well, he would have hardly have been any better off."

"But that was the Killing Curse," Aberforth said. "It's supposed to be unstoppable."

"It's not unstoppable, by any means," Dumbledore said. "It can be blocked by physical objects, for example. Fawkes can survive being struck by it as well, although he is forced to resurrect himself as a result. The same would be true of any phoenix."

Dumbledore turned his gaze on Harry.

"What is interesting is that the sword of Gryffindor was able to at least partially diminish the effects of the curse. Gryffindor did not die immediately, and nor did Slytherin."

"That's what I meant," Aberforth muttered.

"Harry--"

"You want me to take the sword when I fight him," Harry said.

"If you wish. We do not know if there was any spell used to block the curse."

"There wasn't," Harry said. "Gryffindor didn't use one, and Slytherin wouldn't have had time."

"True," Dumbledore said. He pinched the bridge of his long nose. "Forgive me. It has been a trying time."

"The election?" Rose asked. Dumbledore nodded.

"I hope that Diggory wins," she said. "He may be obsessed with stopping Voldemort, but is that a bad thing? Besides, Fudge had some dangerous ideas."

"Like what?" Harry asked. He couldn't imagine Fudge being involved in anything dangerous.

"Like an official registry for anyone with the Sight," Rose sighed. "As though we can't be trusted."

"Why would you need to be registered?" Harry asked.

"We don't!" Rose snapped. She sighed. "Sorry. Fudge wanted Seers registered so that he could control us - stop us from using our gifts to pry into things we shouldn't. He's a paranoid fool, I think. I don't know any Seer who can control their gift that way, not really."

"But you said that you could see--" Harry paused. "Where you wanted," he finished, not wanting to think about Rose looking in the boys' prefects bathroom.

Rose smiled slightly. "It's a complicated business, being a Seer. Control comes easily, at first, but then it's lost. It's like... It's like the difference between a microscope and a telescope, Harry. At first, Seers can see great detail, and they have control, but they can't see very much. Now I could see battles, or the fall of nations, or," she added, "I might see a pivotal point in wizarding history, a thousand years in the past. But I couldn't really control what I saw in that time - I was at the foot of the hill, and while I could see the battle, I couldn't see much of what was going on at the top of the hill. I am receptive to the ripples that events in the future make in time, Harry, but I can't control what I see, and often I have no idea what it means. Ten years ago I saw people jumping up and down on an enormous wall - but as I'm not a Muggle-born, and I've never been to Berlin, I had no idea what it meant. Thirty years ago, I saw a man in what I took to be a heavy-looking diving suit. In fact, he was the first man to step onto the Moon. Seers are no threat to Cornelius Fudge, Harry. We can't control our gift, at least not enough to spy on whatever shady dealings he's up to."

"But... What about the room in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked. "It's huge - and there must be thousands of prophecies in there."

"Millions, probably," Rose said. "I make a few myself each month, usually. But they're so cryptic, and they might refer to anything, or anyone, and so it's hard to decode them. Very hard indeed. But if we have to register, then there'll be people watching us at all times. Most Seers I know just want a quiet life. I know that I do."

"So," Aberforth said, breaking the silence that followed Rose's words. "Anyone got any ideas on why we've been seeing this dream?"

"Rose?" Dumbledore asked.

"There's going to be an attack," she said, her eyes half-shut. "It will involves someone in a position of trust, and a great act of betrayal. There will be heavy losses on both sides, and the final conflict will come down to a two small forces, maybe even two people. It won't end happily."

She looked at the other three occupants of the room.

"It took me a while to work this out, and it's only now that I have all the details. This sort of vision is unique in all of known history. The elements themselves are not that uncommon. That someone unlocks a vision by encountering other dreamers happens a few times a year - more probably, because the law of averages means that there'll be key people in other parts of the world more often than not, although it's usually only Seers who it happens to. That someone Sees into the past is rarer, but not unknown. That a Seer is broadcasting to several people linked to the vision - almost impossible, really. Gigantic odds against it. Visions don't usually occur in dreams, either, although the sheer length of this one rather demands it. As for the fact that the vision has recurred several times over the last nine months or so... Well, that has only happened once before. The Seer's name was Delilah Ramsbottom, and she lived almost fifty years ago."

"What did she predict?" Harry asked, noticing that Aberforth and Albus had exchanged a glance at the Seer's name.

"She predicted that Albus here would defeat Grindelwald, Harry. That was all. For almost two years, on the thirteenth of each month, she predicted the defeat of her master, who kept her alive but in agony as he tried to glean more information from her. But there was no more to be had."

"She died in my arms. I was able to free her, but not save her," Dumbledore said, heavily.

"She died knowing that she was free, Albus," Rose said, placing her hand over Dumbledore's. "And that she was right, which is a lot to a Seer."

"So this dream of yours - does that mean that it's as important as Delilah Ramsbottom's?" Aberforth asked.

"I suspect so," Rose said. "I suspect that we are approaching an equally pivotal point in history. It is unusual to have two so close to one another - mankind usually has a century or so to recover from the really nasty ones. But Grindelwald..." Rose shuddered. "He was a special kind of evil, and Riddle was tailor made for him to teach, or so they say."

"Brilliant, brave, ruthless and quite without morals," Dumbledore said. "Birds of a feather flock together, or so they say."

"So fifty years ago we had one turning point," Aberforth said. "Now we have another."

"And this time it's turning on me," Harry said.

"So it would seem," Rose said. "Still, look on the bright side, Harry. Gryffindor won, didn't he?"

Harry thought about Godric Gryffindor, for whom every movement had caused tremendous pain after Slytherin had vanished, and for whom death had come just a few short months later. If he had won, Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to be a winner as well.

*

The four of them spent several hours discussing the dream, and how literally they could interpret it. Would Slytherin attack Luna, Susan and Harry? Would he try and trick the Ministry into thinking that he came in peace? Would the sword of Gryffindor still be able to stop a Killing Curse, a thousand years after its last use in a magical duel?

Harry was tired and sore by the time that he and the headmaster left the Hogs Head shortly after sunrise. To Harry's surprise, there were several owls perched on the benches outside.

"The Hogs Head is shielded from owls, and has other protections as well," Dumbledore said. "To protect our guest. Aberforth is many things, but he is no fighter, and while Rose has spirit, a lifetime spent working on her Divination skills has left her rather weak with a wand."

He held out his arm to the first owl and unclipped the message canister from its leg. He unrolled the parchment and became still as he read it.

"Harry, we have to return to school," he said, as the other owls flocked around them.

"What's happened?" Harry asked, as Fawkes spread his wings for the short flight from Dumbledore's shoulder to his wrist. The tone of Dumbledore's voice let him know that something was wrong.

"One of your fellow pupils has apparently been taken prisoner by Death Eaters," Dumbledore said.

"Who?" Harry asked, taking one of Fawkes' tailfeathers in his hand.

Dumbledore paused in the act of grasping one of the feathers himself.

"Harry, I am sorry," he said. "It's Susan Bones."

*

The flight back to Dumbledore's office seemed to last for a very long time. Harry felt sick to the stomach - fear for Susan mingling with a deep sense of guilt that opened up before him like a yawning chasm, with Harry teetering on the brink of it. Had he not become involved with Susan, he though, then she would not have been kidnapped.

"Harry, you are broadcasting rather clearly," Dumbledore said at last. "You are not at fault."

"If I hadn't--"

"Miss Bones was taken while on a nighttime walk in the grounds with Ernie McMillan. That is fact. Anything else at this point is meaningless speculation."

Harry nodded, and felt slightly better, but he was still struck by the coincidence.

"Sir, Luna--"

"Is safe in the Ravenclaw common room," Dumbledore said. "And will remain so for as long as is necessary."

They lapsed into silence before appearing, with a slight sideways jolt, in Dumbledore's office.

"Headmaster!"

Professor McGonagall was standing with Snape and Flitwick, who were standing either side of a chair in which was slumped Ernie. Harry looked at the Hufflepuff Prefect's ashen face and knew that he was as worried as Harry was, and felt every bit as guilty as well.

"The girl's parents?"

"With Professor Sprout, Albus--"

"Then we wait. Filius?"

Professor Flitwick looked up from Ernie. He had been trying to comfort the boy, without much success.

"Please make the necessary calls."

Flitwick nodded sharply and left the room as quickly as his short legs could carry him.

"Headmaster?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Potter and McMillan... They should return to their dormitories. This is not the time for indulging children, sir."

Harry bridled at Snape's tone, but Dumbledore spoke before he could say anything.

"They have as much right as anyone to be here, Severus," he said, quite calmly. Mr. McMillan, where were you when you were attacked?"

"By the Forest, sir," Ernie said thickly. His usual bluster was gone.

"Did you see who attacked you?"

"They were wearing masks, sir," Ernie said. "Death Eater masks."

"And did they Apparate?"

"I... Don't think so. There was no noise - they just appeared. It was like they came from nowhere.

Which sounded exactly like Apparation to Harry, but he didn't say anything.

"Albus, what do you think?" McGonagall asked.

"It sounds as though our grounds were being scouted for weak points," Dumbledore said. "The school is protected by many wards and charms, and the only entrance is via the gates. These are locked overnight, of course, but one or two people might be able to sneak in when during the day and hide, especially if they were people with an entitlement to be here, such as a Ministry official on the cleared list or-" it seemed to Harry as though Dumbledore's gaze flickered to him for a moment "-a school governor, perhaps. Their presence would not be questioned if they were spotted, and their presence would not raise any alerts once the defences were fully activated."

McGonagall shook her head. "Then Miss Bones was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"She is, I'm afraid, an excellent bargaining chip," Dumbledore agreed. "As the niece of a high-ranking Ministry official, her abduction would garner a lot of interest."

Ernie moaned, and looked as though he was about to throw up. He was saved by the igniting of Dumbledore's fireplace, which burned a bright green and cast eerie shadows around the room. A hooded head appeared in the flames.

"The headmaster's office?" came a muffled voice.

"This is it," Dumbledore said, not moving. He wasn't looking at the fireplace, rather he was watching Snape.

"You know by now that we have the niece of Amelia Bones."

"And you know that she and I will not rest until she is returned and you are imprisoned."

"You are welcome to try," the voice said, laughing. "But we have additional leverage as well, if you need further convincing, or if you play tricks. Besides, I think that you will be rather occupied soon. We will trade for Potter."

Snape, Ernie and McGonagall all looked at Harry. Dumbledore's gaze didn't flicker.

"You have to know that we will not make that trade," Dumbledore said softly.

"The Dark Lord said that you would not, although it would save a great deal of unpleasantness."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore made the slightest of gestures with one hand and he held back.

"You may tell your leader that only the return of Susan Bones, unharmed, will prevent unpleasantness."

"He said that you would say that, too. The Dark Lord has your pupil in the heart of the Forest. Send Potter in exchange - or in five minutes your school will be under attack."

The green flame vanished, and Dumbledore was immediately on his feet.

"Harry," he said, turning and reaching up to where Godric Gryffindor's sword lay in a glass cabinet. Lifting the lid, he drew it out and turned back. Harry saw that it was now sheathed in a decorative scabbard, with ties to attach it to a belt. "This would not be my first wish, but we appear to have no choice."

"Sir?"

"Harry, I have to ask you to go into the Forest. You must serve as a diversion - and only you will be allowed to enter. Voldemort will be ready for a Polyjuiced impostor, he will be ready for tricks, and only you will be allowed near him."

"What?" Ernie said, standing up. "That's preposterous. You can't send him out there alone. If that's really Voldemort out there, then Potter will be dead before he knows it. At the very least, someone must go with him. In fact, as it's Susan he's holding, I'll--"

"Ernie, shut up," Harry said, gripping Gryffindor's sword tightly.

"Potter, I may have been a total heel, but I won't let Susan down. She had faith in me, even though I was an ass. She didn't have to be friends with me, but she was. I'm not going to walk away from that. She's too nice a person for me to walk away from her, especially as she never walked away from me!"

"You're not thinking, Ernie," Harry said quietly.

"The blazes I'm not! I'm not the one talking about walking into the Forbidden Forest alone! I'm going too."

"No."

"Are you going to stop me? I'm going to help Susan!"

"I know how you feel, but I'm telling you--"

"I suppose you'd sit around and do nothing if it was someone that you cared abou--"

Harry's fist lashed out and caught Ernie under the jaw, shutting his mouth with a click and sending him sprawling backwards into his chair. There was a moment of silence and then Professor McGonagall checked the Hufflepuff boy over.

"Out cold," she reported.

"You were right, sir," Harry said, turning to Dumbledore.

"Oh?"

"It is good for me to use my emotions."

Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"If nothing else, you have prevented me from having to modify Mr. McMillan's memory, for I have a plan, Harry."

"Go on."

Dumbledore stared straight at Harry, holding his gaze with his own. "You asked me once if you would have to fight Voldemort on your own. I told you that I would try and be with you - and I shall. But first I must attend to business elsewhere on the grounds. Harry, I must ask you to serve as a distraction, splitting Voldemort's attention for as long as possible in order that I may find you and help you. You must return to Gryffindor Tower and collect your Invisibility Cloak. And your most excellent Hogwarts Alliance may be of assistance, should all else fail. I assume that you will wish Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to accompany you?"

Harry nodded. This was all going very quickly, but he trusted Ron and Hermione above anyone else.

"Then they will follow you under the Cloak. Harry, I wish that it were some other way, but you know why I have to do this."

Harry nodded. "I alone have the power to defeat him," he said.

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Harry. "For now, I must help the Order tackle the problem that we are about to become inundated with."

"Which is what?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Voldemort is in the centre of the Forbidden Forest, Harry. He could only exist there for any length of time with some very powerful allies on his side."

"You mean--"

Harry was interrupted by the wail of klaxons. There was a moment's pause and then Dumbledore, whose smile had not even flickered, nodded.

"Yes. It appears that the giants who have been living in the Forbidden Forest are, and have always been, allied with Voldemort."

To be continued...