Harry Potter and the Light Brigade

Chapter 1

The Price of Power

In a dark bar in a forgotten city, in a backwards country across the ocean, there came a knocking from without. One witness would later describe the knocker as a young man, barely out of school, with dark hair and wild eyes. Another asserted that the knocker was old, perhaps in his sixties, his hair white, his back hunched. Neither was correct, of course. The knocker, a man of perhaps middle age, with silver-blonde hair and an imposing stature, knocked.

The bartender shouted, "It's open."

The knocker knocked.

"Do you expect someone to open it for you?"

The knocker knocked a third time. Muttering about stupid tourists, the bartender threw open the door, prepared to give the inconsiderate idiot outside his establishment a talking to, and stopped.

"I am the messenger," said the knocker, low and quiet, as he showed the bartender something with his right hand. "Do you have what my master requested?"

The bartender blanched. "Come in, sir, of course, sir, I have it. I've got apparation instructions right here. Don't have it on premises, of course." He gestured to a sheet of parchment he withdrew from his pocket. "Wasn't an easy thing to get, either, what with the Agency declaring 'em protected and all. Almost couldn't pull it off."

The messenger glared. "There were no problems, I expect?"

"Of course not, sir, of course not. Reliable, I am. Now how about we complete that transaction, and I'll go back to serving my customers."

The messenger withdrew a small bag from his cloak and passed it to the bartender, who in exchange gave him the parchment.

"Very well." The messenger left.

Afterwards, a very scared witness claimed that she saw the messenger pause outside the bar. He withdrew a "funny stick," she said, and muttered some nonsense about incense and port. She only confirmed what investigators already knew the man had said next; it was the only thing she could remember clearly. "MORSMORDRE!" the man had shouted into the clear night sky, before the fire started.

As Muggle authorities tried to douse the flames through the night, they failed to notice two hundred galleons of leprechaun gold dissolving in the dawn. The fire did not die until nearly midnight of the next day. And as it died, on the other side of the ocean Harry Potter awoke from a very different nightmare.

<<<>>>

"Cedric!" The dreams always ended the same way. Every night this past week, Harry had awoken in a cold sweat, a beam of green light burned into his eyelids. He'd struggle his way back to sleep eventually, only to see the dream again. Cedric's death was all his fault. Pettigrew had killed him, had said the words and pointed the wand, but he had asked Cedric to take the Cup with him, he had killed the older boy. He couldn't have known, but he should have. Cedric had died because Harry had been there, because Voldemort had needed his blood, because Harry was stupid and noble and he had tried to be fair.

This is how Harry Potter passed his first week home: guilty, lonely, and plagued by the horror of Voldemort's return. He had nightmares and he moped and he stared dejectedly at the wall of the smallest room of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

He'd been back with the Dursleys for only a week and already he wanted more than anything to be somewhere else. Failing that, his schoolbooks would be nice, he thought, ignoring the screaming from downstairs. Aunt Petunia had not been happy when Dudley had returned home from Smeltings with a rather poor report card, and she had spent the previous half hour in a rage at the teachers who didn't appreciate her "perfect little Duddykins."

Harry thought again of his trunk, locked away in the closet under the stairs, his books, parchment, quills, and cloak inside. They were only a couple dozen feet away, but as far as he was concerned they could have been on the moon. It was only through a minor miracle that he had managed to hold on to Hedwig and his wand, though of course he didn't dare use it. Still, it felt good to hold it sometimes, to remind himself that the magical world was still out there.

He'd sent Hedwig out once, hoping to keep in contact with Ron and Hermione, or maybe even arrange a visit to the burrow. His letters had come back unopened, with a third note that read simply, "They are watching." That had only magnified his guilt, making him relive the memories of the disastrous finale of the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort's terrifying rebirth, and Cedric's death.

The recurring nightmares were almost a relief from the guilt he felt. At least when he was reliving the scene in the graveyard he was so caught up that he couldn't think. If only he hadn't insisted Cedric take the cup with him; if only he'd been able to protect them both. If only he'd been able to stop Voldemort from coming back! He felt more guilt for that than anything. The wizarding world would soon be terrorized, he knew, and more innocents would die. All because of him, all because of his blood.

The doorbell interrupted Harry's Saturday morning recriminations. He heard his uncle Vernon yell something indistinct, and then the door opening. His uncle's words to the visitor were, however, perfectly clear, even to Harry: "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU DAFT CODGER! I WILL NOT HAVE YOUR KIND IN MY HOUSE!"

Harry's heart fluttered. Someone had come for him. He gripped his wand, hoping it was Dumbledore but afraid it was a Death Eater. There was an agonizingly long, almost-audible conversation, and then Harry's uncle screamed again. "POTTER! HERE! NOW!" Harry could guess from his tone that Vernon was most likely a rather outraged shade of purple, and his suspicion was confirmed when he made his way down the stairs to find his uncle sitting in the living room. Seeing his uncle alive, Harry immediately ruled out a Death Eater attack, but he still felt uncertain. And Then he saw who was sitting with his uncle, and his grip on his wand immediately relaxed.

"Professor!" Harry ran over. "Have you come to take me out of here?" He noticed the grim look on Dumbledore's face. "Has something happened?" he asked, tentatively, afraid that it had already begun.

"The world is perilous still, but not any more so than it was a week ago. And regrettably, you must remain with your aunt and uncle for the rest of the summer." Uncle Vernon somehow became even more purple, but Dumbledore silenced him with a look. "We have a great deal to discuss." He turned to Vernon. "Vernon, I'm afraid I must ask for some time alone with Harry. When we are done talking, the two men I mentioned may arrive, depending on what Harry decides. If they do not, then I apologize for impinging upon your time."

"Decides what?" Harry asked. There was no mistaking the grim tone in the headmaster's voice.

"In time, my boy. Vernon, if you would be so kind?"

Vernon didn't say a word as he stormed out of the room. Harry rather suspected that there would be hell to pay when Professor Dumbledore left, but that wasn't important. Dumbledore was here!

But as much as Harry wanted to rejoice over his beloved headmaster's arrival, he couldn't help but feel worried despite Dumbledore's assurances.

"Why are you here, Professor? Are you sure everything's okay?"

"But of course not, Harry. Voldemort has returned, and the wizarding world is woefully unprepared. You have not been reading the Daily Prophet, I suspect, but they and the Ministry are denying Voldemort's return as the ramblings of an old man well past his prime. That is what I have come to talk to you about, Harry."

"Voldemort?" Harry thought it was a little funny that all the people he knew in the wizarding world who would dare to use Voldemort's true name were currently sitting in his living room.

"Yes, Tom Riddle, my wayward former student. Now that he has returned, we are in quite grave danger. You especially, for there is nothing Voldemort hates and fears more than those stronger than him." Noticing the look of surprise on Harry's face, Dumbledore continued, "For indeed, you are stronger than him, if not in magic, in spirit. And it is your magic I have come to talk to you about. If you are willing, I would like to offer you some additional tuition this summer."

"I'm to have private lessons with you this summer? Brilliant!"

"In a rather roundabout fashion, yes. You see, there are a number of barriers preventing that, all of which I plan to surmount. First, there are the Ministry rules against underaged magic, which I do not particularly desire to flout. Then there is the necessity that you stay with your Aunt for the duration of the summer, so that the protections on both you and your family will endure. And finally, there is the matter of time. For even were I to closet myself here with you for the entire summer, I would not be able to teach you everything I suspect you will need to know, and I could not even do that, for I have responsibilities that I must fulfill."

"How are you going to be able to teach me, then?" Dumbledore seemed confident he had a solution, and Harry was anything if not sure of his teacher's resourcefulness.

"For that we will be relying on a rather obscure and difficult branch of magic. Tell me, Harry, what do you know about time magic?"

Harry looked puzzled. "You mean, like the time turner we used to save Sirius?"

"Precisely. Such artifacts are rare, and time spells are rarer still, for good reason. Time magic requires a great deal of power to employ, and it often has high costs, as Ms. Granger learned last year. Very complicated and dangerous situations can arise when it is used to travel in time, as you most fortunately did not learn. We will not, fortunately, be taking such extreme steps. Have you perhaps heard of the spell known as tempus doctare?

Harry shook his head.

"I would be very surprised if you had. It is a spell that has not been used, if I am not mistaken, in nearly four hundred years, for reasons I fear we will have to discuss in a moment. It is a spell that does a number of complicated and interesting things, but its effects are fairly simple. No time passes, but the caster and target, in this case the two of us, are given approximately ten years together in what I have heard described only as an 'other place.' It's impossible to affect the real world in this time, and so the spell was typically used to provide a time to teach, which is the use to which I propose to put it."

"How long does the spell last?"

"A few seconds, perhaps, but no more. This is a difficult decision, Harry. Spending ten years doing nothing but learning will leave you a very different person when the spell ends. It may change your relationship with your friends. It will certainly change your future at Hogwarts."

"It'll help me fight Voldemort, won't it? I owe it to Cedric, to stop him. I have to."

"Are you certain, Harry? I certainly would not think worse of you if you declined; this will have an enormous impact on your life, and I cannot promise it will be a good one. I would not make the offer at all were not times so desperate."

"I have to do it, though. I have to stop that monster, for everyone's that died, for everyone he's going to try to kill. He'll kill me, too, if I don't stop him.

"And why are you so certain, Harry, that you must be the one to stop Voldemort?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering. "Everyone expects it, don't they? I beat him before, when no one else could. I should be able to do it again. I have to do it again."

"That may very well be the case. But while you are an exceptional young man, and I certainly do believe you have it within yourself to defeat Voldemort, there is nothing which will aid you in your fight. You have no special fate; you are not destined to fight him. Divination can often give accurate results when employed by a skilled seer, whatever your thoughts on the subject, but it is vague and usually only truly enlightening in hindsight. Nothing ties you and Voldemort together beyond your past and your desires. It is important that you understand this, Harry."

Harry gulped. It had always seemed to him that he had some edge against Voldemort. Something made him special, the something that had protected him when he was barely a year old. But as the events in the graveyard has shown, that protection was gone now. He was an ordinary boy who wanted to fight the most powerful dark wizard in history, and Harry very nearly changed his mind when this realization came crashing down on him.

"No, I want to do it. It doesn't matter if I'm not special, if being the bloody Boy Who Lived doesn't mean anything. I'll still beat him, because he needs to be beaten."

Dumbledore beamed. "I am proud to see you make such a brave decision, Harry. But before you decide so certainly, you should know the costs involved."

"You mean, why it hasn't been used in so long? Is it dangerous?"

"That is the greatest drawback, I am afraid. You see, Harry, the spell is fatal to its caster, and rather debilitating to its target."

"Fatal? You must be joking! What good is a spell that kills whoever uses it?"

"Oh, it is quite a sacrifice. A very good reason for the spell to have been abandoned for so long. But I am quite old, and you, my boy, have shown these past four years that you will put my teaching to good use."

"So you'd die? Professor Dumbledore, please, you can't do this. I'm not worth it. I... I couldn't even save Cedric. There's no way I'll be able to beat Voldemort. It's not worth it."

Dumbledore looked at him seriously. "You should not blame yourself for the events surrounding Voldemort's return. Crouch, Pettigrew, and Voldemort himself are the only ones that are responsible. What you did was incredibly important: you kept yourself alive. And while it is true that you are not 'special,' as you put it, you are a remarkably skilled wizard and, I believe, a remarkably good one. My knowledge is great, Harry, but surely you realize that I'm getting on a bit in years. It does not worry me to think that I will begin the next great adventure a little early, if doing so could do so much good."

Harry felt torn. He couldn't ask the greatest wizard in the world to give up his life for him, no matter how badly Dumbledore wanted to help.

"If it makes your decision any easier, I should mention that I doubt I will live out another decade, and so subjectively I will probably live longer if we employ the spell."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"I would not have mentioned it if I weren't. This is a terrible thing to ask of you, Harry, to give up your childhood. The sacrifice you're making is in many ways greater than mine. Though it pains me to say it, my goal is to turn you into a weapon. If there were any other way, I would embrace it, but the threat the world faces is too great."

"I'll do it. Whatever I have to do, if you think I can do it."
"Thank you, Harry. I pray I'm making the right decision. In any case, I would ask you to keep secret precisely what we are about to do. Surprise is a powerful weapon."

Harry nodded. "But before we get to that rather grim business," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I believe you have some friends who are rather eager to see you." He pulled a rather strange device that vaguely resembled a pocket watch out of his pocket, and turned two of the wheels. Fifteen seconds later, a man and a dog walked in the door.

"Professor! Siri---Snuffles!" Harry rushed towards them, and threw his arms around the large black dog that had just walked in the door. He pulled back after a moment, and shook hands with his former teacher.

"It's good to see you again, Harry. You're looking well." Remus Lupin seemed older than he did the last time Harry had seen him, and his robes looked even shabbier. The year since his stint at Hogwarts had not been kind to him.

Before Harry's reunion with his godfather and his ex-professor could progress much further, Dumbledore interrupted.

"I'm sorry to cut short what should be a happy meeting, but we have a great deal to do today before I die," he said calmly. Sirius popped back into his human form, revealing a man who almost perfectly mirrored his friend's haggard appearance. His mouth was open in shock, as was Remus's.

"Yes, I imagine this must come as something I surprise. I neglected to inform you of my plans earlier because I was not yet certain of them. I needed Harry's assistance, which he has kindly offered to provide, and so I believe we'll be able to proceed."

Remus and Sirius looked no less shocked after Dumbledore's rather vague explanation. "What precisely is going on? Are you okay, Albus?" asked Remus.

"Never better. As for what is going on, it is a bit more complicated. I recently learned of a spell that can be used to create a powerful weapon, one that could perhaps be used to destroy Voldemort."

Harry noticed that Dumbledore wasn't telling the whole truth to the two men, and he badly wanted to ask why. But then he remembered what Dumbledore had said about the power of surprises and decided to keep quiet. He'd have plenty of time to ask Dumbledore about it soon enough, he figured.

"But the spell is extraordinarily difficult, as one might expect, and it requires two powerful wizards to be used. And of course it kills one of them, and it should weaken the other for quite some time, if I'm not mistaken. This is assuming the spell is cast correctly, by the way, because if it is not it would almost certainly kill them both, not to mention leaving you without a weapon. But the odds of that happening are quite low, I think."

Sirius's face fell as Dumbledore talked. "But why does it have to be you, Albus? And," he looked afraid for a moment, "why Harry?"

"The spell requires great skill on the part of the caster,if it is to work, skill which only myself and perhaps Voldemort possess. And I doubt he would be amenable. And I chose Harry because I feel he is in the best position to put this weapon to use. Not to mention that spending several weeks recovering from the spell will be easier on him than on someone older."

"But isn't there some other way? We'd be lost without you, Albus."

"I wish there were another way. But it is clear to me that this is the best course of action. I have no greater desire than to make my death as meaningful as possible And speaking of my death, I believe we should discuss why I asked you here. First, Harry, Remus, I would like to ask you each to witness a new copy of my will, which details the distribution of a few of my more important magical items. Sirius, I would ask you as well, but I'm afraid that your rather unfortunate current status with the law would prevent that." He produced a lengthy document from somewhere within his robes. He shuffled through it until he came to a page he'd marked, and passed it to Remus.

"You just need to sign, indicating that you believe that I am not being coerced by magical or mundane means, and that I am in my right mind."

"I'm not so sure about that last one," Sirius said quietly. But Remus ignored him and quickly signed the sheet of paper before handing it to Harry. Harry glanced at it briefly before scribbling his name. He handed it back to Dumbledore quietly. Dumbledore glanced at it, and then it disappeared with a tiny pop.

"Ah, thank you both. Now here," he said, passing a letter to Remus, "is a letter to Minerva, which contains arrangements for my funeral and a number of things she needs to know before she becomes Headmistress." Harry's head jerked up when he heard this. He was finally starting to realize what it all meant: no more going back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore to open the welcoming feast, no more passwords named after sweets, no more twinkling eyes and eccentrically colored hat and robe ensembles. The greatest wizard of the age was going to die on his account, and he had already agreed to let it happen.

"I have just one more thing to ask of you, Sirius and Remus. Harry will be very weak, both physically and magically, for a long time after we cast the spell. Perhaps as long as two months, though I believe six weeks is more realistic. It will not extend into the next year of school, I do not expect, which is one of the reasons why we need to perform the spell now. While Harry is weak, I am asking you both to take care of him and protect him. I fear that once I am gone Voldemort will become increasingly bold, and his protection will be especially important. That is why I must ask you to stay here with his relatives, where he will be safest. I have already spoken with his aunt and uncle, and although they were rather upset I have...persuaded them to put you up here for the remainder of the summer. Are you both willing?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "I'm still not sure exactly what you're doing and why, but anything for Harry."

"Me too," said Remus softly.

"Thank you. Now, the rest of my preparations have already been made, and I believe we can proceed. Please do not mention the details of what is about to occur here; it would be best if the world believes I died of natural causes. It is a great honor to have known you both." He raised his wand. "Harry, please press your wand to mine."

Harry pulled his wand out of his back pocket and raised it to match his headmaster's.

"Dumbledore, you're the noblest person I've ever known. I hope this sacrifice is worth it." Sirius wiped tears out of his eyes.

"As long as you can hope, it will be."

"Good luck," Remus said, as a look of complete serenity passed across Dumbledore's face.

A second passed.

"Tempus doctare."

Ten years passed.

<<<>>>

A second passed, and Dumbledore and Harry slumped to the floor together. Sirius and Remus ran over to them instantly, checking to see if they were okay. Harry was still breathing, but Dumbledore was not. Remus quickly pulled out his wand and cast a spell to cover the body.

"Sirius, you should take Harry up to bed. I have no idea what they did, but he looks exhausted. I... I'll go deliver that letter to Minerva. I don't know if I can bear to do anything else. Albus..."

Sirius nodded, mutely. He gently lifted Harry up and began to take him upstairs. "He's so small, so young. Too young to carry all of this."

Remus shook his head. "I know, but he may not have a choice."

The werewolf walked out the door of the house, moved a short distance away, and then disappeared with a pop.

Sirius carried Harry up the stairs of Number 4, Privet Drive, and tucked him into the bed in Harry's tiny bedroom. Looking at the room's barrenness, he decided to hunt down Harry's things immediately, so he could have them when he woke up.

He walked out of the room quietly, only to run into a rather angry Vernon Dursley. "So you're that criminal, one of the ones to be staying with us, then, are you? Where'd the codger and the other one go?"

Sirius blinked away tears. "That codger, as you call him, was the greatest wizard the world has seen in centuries. You aren't good enough to lick his boots."

"Whatdya mean, was?"

"He's dead."

"Some wizard, then. Now, I'll have you know that I will not tolerate any of your freakiness in my house. If I catch any hint that you've been up to anything unnatural, you'll be right out of here. And wear some decent clothes for once, you weirdo. And tell your freaky friend that, too." Vernon stomped off to his room, leaving Sirius shocked and furious. But he didn't have it in him to try to beat the significance of what had happened through the skull of an appallingly cruel Muggle. He went in search of Harry's trunk.

He found it five minutes later, in a small closet under the stairs; he didn't know that it was Harry's old room. The trunk barely fit inside. Levitating it easily with his wand, he started to bring it up the stairs. But before he could get it up more than a few steps, he heard a terrified yelp. Harry's cousin Dudley was at the top of the stairs.

"M-m-m-magic!" he shouted, and fled towards his room. Almost immediately Vernon reappeared, angry as ever.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT BEING UNNATURAL IN MY HOUSE?"

Sirius grinned wickedly. If Harry had been forced to live with this man for so long, it was the least he could do to scare him a little. He moved the trunk out of the way and marched up the stairs, wand pointed directly at Vernon's heart.

"You appear to be a little confused about who you're dealing with. Do you know why I was sent to prison?" Vernon shook his head, as he slowly backed up the stairs. "I was convicted of killing twenty-three people with one spell. Muggles like you. And so they sent me off to the wizarding prison, Azkaban, for life. I'm the only person ever to escape. Now, you will cease your foolishness and behave civilly, or else I will have to get... creative."

Vernon froze, stared for a second, nodded, and then fled. Sirius resumed hovering Harry's trunk up the stairs, and then brought it into Harry's room. He check Harry, amazed that all of Vernon's shouting hadn't woken him up. But Harry was slumbering peacefully, and so Sirius found the guest bedroom, performed a few simple spells to rectify Petunia's terrible decorating decisions and split the bed into two smaller ones. Then he walked back up to Harry's room, sat down, and waited.

<<<>>>

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. When no one immediately moved to answer it, Sirius got up, walked downstairs, and answered the door. Remus, Minerva McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey were standing outside. He motioned for them all to come in, as Pomfrey asked,

"How's he doing?"

"Still sleeping. Other than the exhaustion, though, he seems to be fine."

"Upstairs?" Sirius nodded. "I'll check on him."

As she disappeared, Remus led McGonagall into the living room, where Dumbledore's body still lay, under a shroud. She sighed and said,

"There was a part of me that hoped it wasn't true, that this was just some awful joke. He asked me to oversee the funeral, so I'd best take him now to make arrangements."

She looked very old for a moment, as if all the pressures caused by Dumbledore's death were suddenly pressing on her.

"I don't know exactly what happened, and I gather Albus didn't want me to know, so I won't ask. But please, take care of Harry. It doesn't take a seer to figure out that dark times are ahead." Lifting Dumbledore's body with her wand, she levitated it out the door and down the street before, disappearing with a pop.

Moments later, Madam Pomfrey descended the stairs. "Not a thing wrong with him. Nothing to even explain why he's tired in the middle of the day. He should be fine, even with you two troublemakers taking care of him. Keep him safe." She walked out the door and was soon gone from sight.

"So now we wait," said Remus to his oldest friend. "Mind if I take first watch?"

"I'll come, too. This is a bad time to be alone."

They went upstairs and sat at Harry's bedside, waiting for the hope of the wizarding world to awaken.

Author's Notes:

1. I am indebted to MidnightBlue's The Mirror of Maybe and Barb's The Time of Good Intentions, two excellent fics that have helped me figure out how my own ought to work.

2. I am likewise indebted to just about every fanfiction author I've had the opportunity to read, and that's quite a list. Whether they've shown me what works or what doesn't, they've all helped me in one way or another.

3. I'm not sure how often I'll be updating, but it'll hopefully be around once a week.

4. This chapter was updated on 12/27/06.