Categories > Books > Harry Potter > A THOUSAND YEARS

Parts 10, 11 & 12

by Alorkin 16 reviews

An article in the news, Remus makes a discovery, an errand of mercy, and making some needed changes. Also, a possible reason for the behavior of two canon characters.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Drama - Characters: Dobby,Lucius - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2013-06-01 - 7253 words - Complete


Rita Skeeter couldn’t stop her trembling. The trial of Sirius Black was just about the most important story since the fall of the dark lord. She shivered in near-orgasm. It had everything! A dead traitor alive, an innocent hero unjustly imprisoned, a famous wizarding child…a national hero, in fact, sent to live with muggles, a corrupt Minister, and most importantly of all, Albus Dumbledore! Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was involved in this scandal up to his twinkling blue eyeballs!

Rita had vowed vengeance on the old fashion-blind wizard long before, when he’d caught her in a compromising position in a broom cupboard with her boyfriend Mundungus Fletcher during her seventh year…and used that information to blackmail her! Instead of merely taking points and assigning detention Dumbledore had cast a massively overpowered Obliviate at Fletch causing him to forget their yearlong romance. It worked. Fetch shambled off without so much as a single look backward.

As if that weren’t enough, Dumbledore had threatened her with expulsion for her ‘scandalous activities’ in the broom cupboard…unless she consented to repeat them with him, in his private chambers.

Being only three months from her NEWT’s, and knowing he had the wherewithal to prevent her taking the exams at all, she ‘d grudgingly acquiesced.

The next day, she’d left the headmaster’s office tired, worn and sore…apparently the old man had a penchant for buggery, and he liked it rough. She also discovered that he’d cast a spell on her that she didn’t recognize, that prevented her from discussing what he’d done to her. Any time she tried to mention the old bastard’s crimes against her, she found she couldn’t speak at all.

She entered the Great Hall to find Fletch missing from his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. She saw him at the school only twice after that. Both times he ignored her completely.

More, the spell Dumbledore had cast, seemed to have changed her best friend into something else…something…less respectable.

She passed her NEWT’s with her usual style and immediately applied to The Daily Prophet. They accepted of course, seeing as how their star reporter, Matthias Fletcher, Mundungus’ father, had been killed by Death Eaters only weeks earlier...well that, and nobody else wanted the job. Anyone hired stood a good chance of following in Matthias’ unfortunate footsteps. As a result, Rita became one of the highest paid reporters in Britain. During her time at the Prophet, Rita began to study certain…if not ‘forbidden’, than at least ‘frowned-upon’ magicks…specifically the animagus transformation.

To her disgust, she discovered her animagus form was not so noble as a lion, nor as universally reviled as a snake. It was an insect. A beetle. A particularly ugly beetle.

She wanted to cry when she discovered this…until she spotted a ladybug inside a bouquet she’d bought from the nearby florist.

This gave her an idea. If this little ladybug could get into her apartment unnoticed, how would a beetle with a human intellect fare? She’d done her share of eavesdropping at Hogwarts. It was to be expected from her house. The idea of an invisible reporter hiding in the rafters catching all the juicy gossip…erm news, was too much to deny. She began to practice the transformation.

It didn’t take too long.

That year the dark lord and his Death Eaters had gone on a rampage, killing wantonly. Creating terror throughout the entire British Wizarding world. Whole families were slaughtered, villages were wiped out, the muggles were beginning to notice and most importantly of all, the Ministry was ready to fall. Rita had a field day. Her covert espionage and her overt reporting had caused enough havoc to annoy the dark lord, yet not quite enough for him to take action against her. She understood though that his mood might change at a moment’s notice, and had purchased a quite illegal portkey to France should he ever try to swat this particular insect.

And then, just when all seemed lost, a miracle had occurred.

Harry Potter had somehow managed to do what nobody had every done before. According to the tale Dumbledore had spread, baby Harry had both survived the killing curse, and he’d destroyed the dark lord.

Rita had covered the Death Eater trials, including the most shocking development of all, the unmasking of Bartemius Crouch Jr. The expose she’d written had garnered her the coveted Silver Quill, and had earnt her enough to live on in grand style for a year or more, or retire if she lived frugally.

Rita was not one for living frugally. Rather, she wanted the high life. She began to use her unregistered animagus form to spy on all the ‘right people’ and to use what she learned to her advantage. Those who refused to ‘appease’ her ended up on the front page in disgrace.

Rita found that she enjoyed that. She began to collect usable blackmail material from nearly everyone in the British wizarding world…in case she needed it.

In the excitement of the time, she had lost contact with Mundungus Fletcher.

In the years since, she’d learnt that her former beau had taken to thieving and drinking. He’d become the worst sort of petty criminal, and his family blamed her…undoubtedly at Albus Dumbledore’s suggestion.

Yes, she had a great deal of anger at the self-proclaimed ‘Leader of the Light’.

Now, she could begin that revenge…if only she could settle herself enough to set words to page. She forced herself to calm and began to compose her account…focusing on Dumbledore’s culpability throughout. Her editor expected a story before the early edition, and my Merlin’s beard, she’d give him one!

The next morning, in a little cottage in the forests northeast of Skiddaw. Remus Lupin regained consciousness. He sat up in a puddle of cold tea, which had fallen when he’d fainted. Climbing slowly to his feet, he braced his hands on the table to read the headlines that had sent him into shock in the first place.


He almost fainted again. Instead, he sat in his one chair, deliberate care of a man who has had too much to drink, and with a determined flick of his wand, refilled his cup. He took a fortifying sip of the hot drink, before reading the page.

Gentle readers, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent to The Daily Prophet, we all know Sirius Black had been selected as secret keeper, for the Potter family. We all know he immediately told the dark Lord He Who Must Not Be Named, where the Potters were hiding which led to their murders on Hallowe’en of nineteen eighty one. We all know how on he second of November, in Manchester this nefarious criminal Sirius Black murdered the brave hero Peter Pettigrew by means of an explosive hex so powerful that twelve muggles were killed as well.

The sickening fact is, dear readers, we know nothing.

Today, this reporter was privileged to witness long overdue justice being served. The very same Peter Pettigrew had been found, alive, and somehow delivered to Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with a note explaining what he had done, and how he’d gotten away with it. For you see, dear readers, Peter Pettigrew, was the Potter’s secret keeper, not Sirius Black, as Albus Dumbledore had always insisted. As it turns out, Black was considerably more intelligent than he’d been given credit for, and suggested what the mystery novelists would call a double blind, to prevent the dark lord from ever finding his best friends, James and Lily Potter and their son Harry.

Alas, they chose to put their faith in the wrong man…or should this reporter say, the wrong two men. Peter Pettigrew and Albus Dumbledore…

From his privileged position on the Wizengamot, Dumbledore did everything he could to interfere with this trial; initially refusing to honor a challenge from Prosecutor Amelia Bones, citing Harcourt -v- the Ministry of Magic of 1429, charging him with complicity in these most heinous of crimes. By a overwhelming majority vote he was recused for the duration of the trials. In a fit of childish pique, he surrendered his gavel, not to Augusta Longbottom his second, as is tradition, but to the court scribe! He angrily stomped across the floor to the gallery where he seated himself in the front row, possibly to interfere again. Whether that was his intent or not, interfere he did. While Black was under the effects of Veritaserum, Madam Bones asked him to describe the events of Hallowe’en of nineteen eighty one. Dumbledore immediately stood and attempted to prevent details of the Potter murders that fateful night four years ago, coming to light.

Fortunately, Madam Longbottom seemingly anticipated such an attempt and warned the former Chief Wizard that should he persist, he would face a charge of contempt of court. Such a charge carries an automatic sentence of a month in Azkaban…fortunately in the prison’s minimum security section; an area not patrolled by dementors.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore complied, and sulked throughout the rest of Black’s trial..

Black’s testimony under Veritaserum, which Dumbledore tried so diligently to prevent, showed us that we have all been played for fools by a master at such manipulations. We learned that Albus Dumbledore used his position to ensure Black never got a trial when even the most vile Death Eaters captured in - the - act, received one. In conspiracy with our former Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold, and Bartemius Crouch, then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he sent Sirius Black to Azkaban without the benefit of trial. He ordered Black placed in the ultimate security section of the prison, a place reserved for the darkest of criminals where dementors patrol constantly. Minister Bagnold countersigned the order. At a press release given the next day, Dumbledore said: “Sirius Black, the dark lord’s most trusted lieutenant, has been captured and will face the punishment for his crimes.” Apparently with such people as Albus Dumbledore, Millicent Bagnold and Bartemius Crouch, due process isn’t all that important.

(See: Millicent Bagnold sacked for corruption: underfold.)

As if this wasn’t enough, while the entire British Wizarding world was celebrating the fall of the dark lord, Dumbledore used his position to seal the Potter’s will and name himself little Harry’s magical guardian, in order to place our child-hero with hateful muggle relatives.

What isn’t Dumbledore telling us? Why did he violate the Potter will and place little Harry with muggles? Why did he seal their will and name himself Harry Potters magical guardian when the Potters specifically named Sirius Black (who at the time had committed no crimes) as guardian? Why did he have Sirius Black sent to Azkaban when a trial under Veritaserum, as - was - his - right, could easily have proved his innocence?

“Oh, Merlin!” He moaned. He’d believed Dumbledore when he’d claimed Sirius had been the undiscovered spy, when really; it had been Peter…weak, inoffensive little Peter. The one nobody would ever suspect.

He began to pace, not bothering to read the two other major headlines. the thought foremost in hsimind was; ~How will I ever make tis right?~


by Allie Goric

In a shocking twist, the Trial of Sirius Black (see: overfold) became a trial of the British wizarding world. The accused, Sirius Black was led into the chamber, where, inexplicably, the chains used to bind criminals, refused to wrap themselves around Black. Given the magic in the chains, this is as much a declaration of Black’s innocence as any testimony later given. Blacks trial lasted less than an hour and despite Albus Dumbledore’s interference, led to both Black’s exoneration and the trial of the presumed dead Peter Pettigrew, long thought to have been killed by Black.

Following Veritaserum testimony, the former holder of the Order of Merlin First class, was found guilty of being a Death Eater, of leading the dark lord to the Potters and of murdering twelve muggles on the streets of Manchester. Despite attempts at subverting the process of law by forcibly recused Chief of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore, he was sentenced to death. That sentence was carried out in the Department of Mysteries where he was cast through the Veil of Death. (See: Underfold)

But this is not the end of the story, not at all. In a shocking move, Amelia Bones called for a vote of no confidence in her long time friend, Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic.

With documentation provided by Gringotts Bank, Bones laid down a solid and specific case against the Minister, whom it appears, had been taking bribes from the wealthier of the Death Eaters. Those Death Eaters were released without trial, with declarations of ‘innocence due to Imperius’, signed by both Millicent Bagnold and Albus Dumbledore.

Less than an hour later, Millicent Bagnold was no longer minister. This reporter watched as Bones, tears in her eyes, ordered her friend’s arrest for trial, for the good of the community.

Following Bagnold’s departure for her new accommodations in the Ministry’s detention level, Bones called for another vote of no confidence…this time in Albus Dumbledore, and on the same grounds. Dumbledore immediately called her effort, a vendetta, wherein she replied that to ensure an egalitarian government, the greed and corruption that has thus far controlled both the Ministry and the Wizengamot, must end. She explained that while she Bagnold were close friends and had served together as Aurors, bribery and corruption had no place in a forward thinking government. She claimed Dumbledore was complicit in that corruption and calling on the Veritaserum testimony of both Black and Pettigrew, was able to demonstrate to the council that Dumbledore had committed most grievous crimes against us all, including his egregious mishandling of our boy-hero Harry Potter.

Dumbledore was removed from his position of Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot.

Augusta Longbottom, Chief Witch in Dumbledore’s absence was nominated for the position permanently and voted in within minutes. She immediately called for nominations for minister. Carolyn Chapman Esquire, who had just served as Sirius Black’s defense council used her seats to force the vote and Amelia Bones, long known for her incorruptibility and dedication to the impartial administration of law, was named Minister of Magic.

Albus Dumbledore gave this short statement to the press; “I believe the forces of darkness have at last gained a foothold in the Ministry of Magic. I shall do my utmost of course, to combat this nefarious plan. Alas, with my being removed from the Chief’s position, there is little I can do at this time. I urge your readers to look into their hearts and decide for themselves if they wish to live their lives at the behest of two unscrupulous officials who are willing to do whatever they want to control the British wizarding population…thank you.”

At the bottom of the front page, a further headline screamed:


By Hartus Naylles.

This morning at eleven of the clock, Peter Pettigrew, former holder of the Order of Merlin and now known as betrayer and murderer, was cast through the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries.

Says Amelia Bones, then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, “I’ve never liked watching people die, but I have to say in this case, it was well deserved. Peter Pettigrew betrayed and helped to murder two fine Aurors for personal reasons. That little Harry Potter managed to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named, matters not a whit.” (Editors note: Madam Bones used the dark lord’s name, but to prevent widespread panic, the editing staff at The Daily Prophet, have substituted his most commonly used Nom de Guerre.)

“Pettigrew then tried to murder Auror Sirius Black who had hunted him down in Manchester, but missed and killed more than a dozen muggles, including five children. He was awarded the Order of Merlin for this crime. It is only fortunate his mother, rest her soul, never learned what kind of monster he really was.”

A smaller article relegated to the third page stated:


by Acere P. Orter

The article described how Amelia Bones and her Aurors had arrested Barty Crouch in his office, and upon questioning under the powerful truth serum, had discovered his complicity in Black’s lack of trial, and imprisonment, and, of far more import, how the presumed-dead Barty Junior, was in fact still alive and living in Crouch’s home, in the charge of a house elf and under the constant influence of the Imperius curse…the unforgivable having been cast many times by his father. Crouch had been sent to Azkaban’s minimum security section to await his trial, but instead escaped his cell the next morning and flung himself from the shield wall and into the north sea. His body lay crushed on the sharp stones on the beach, three hundred feel below the ramparts.

Barty Junior who had been returned to his cell, was heard to say; “He was under Imperius!”, but nobody believed him.

Later that day, Albus Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts smiling grimly.


June 5th 85: 19:30, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies:

A careful approach and the invisible Doodlebug alit lightly on the roof of the deserted department store that housed St. Mungo’s hospital for magical maladies.

Harry ensured the shields were set, and opened the aft hatch. Orienting himself, he apparated silently into the Janus Thickey ward to find both Alice and Frank sleeping quietly. The room was empty, and with a quick scan, he located the duty healer in the office. He absently cast a notice-me-not spell and set to work.

He passed a flat object with a clear screen on one side, over the comatose Aurors. When it beeped, he thumbed it off and returned it to his belt. Then sitting by Franklin, he said; “Sorry, Frank. This is going to sting a bit, but I need some blood from you.”

Harry was rather embarrassed by this. With all the technology he had available, he’d completely forgotten the simplicity of drawing blood. When he’d created the AI that controlled the My Little, he’d included his own memory engrammes and scans of his body to the subatomic level; he'd never even considered that he might need to test someone else’s blood. He’d sworn out loud, when he’d realized he’d need to include other people…specifically Hermione and her parents…in the same fashion.

He was pretty sure ‘Mione was laughing at him.

Harry sat on the bed beside Frank, and wrapped a tourniquet around the man’s arm. Waiting for his veins to fill, he uncapped a syringe and inserted a ‘vac-u-draw’ cylinder. When Frank’s vein was ready, Harry swabbed the area with an alcohol pad and deftly slid the needle into the comatose man’s arm, then pushed the collection tube all the way into the syringe. Five seconds later the phial was filled and he withdrew the needle, healed the tiny wound and carefully labeled the blood sample. Capping the needle he slipped it and the phial into his pocket.

“All done. Now you get a lolly…assuming you can have one.”

He set the promised grape lolly on the bed-side table and turned to Alice, where he repeated the procedure…including leaving her a lolly, this one lemon.

He cancelled the charm on the office door and apparated away before the healer thought to check on his patients.


Done, Harry returned to the roof where the invisible Doodlebug waited, sealed up and lifted off.

His next stop was the hidden island some two hundred fifty miles to the southwest, where the My Little Bookworm waited.

The Doodlebug zipped through the air on silent wings, a few hundred feet from the ground, with a nervous Harry at the controls. Her screens should keep the military away, but Harry had been monitoring radio traffic, and twice now, he’d picked up transmissions indicating scrambled aircraft along his line of flight. He knew they couldn’t see him, but he didn’t know if radar could, as that particular form of detection had been out of use for nearly six hundred years before he’d begun the My Little’s construction. There was no way of knowing if they picked him up, picked up a ghost or simply picked up the air disturbed by the Doodlebug’s passage through it. He wasn’t too worried. His shields could stop anything up to and including a nuclear strike, and he really didn’t think the RAF would use such dangerous weapons over Britain anyway.

Still, it was disquieting that they might have seen him. He made a note to check with ‘Mione and see if she had any way of determining whether radar could detect her.

Over the island, Harry rotated the Doodlebug upside down, to mate her with the My Little. Gravity simulators in the little shuttle gave him the feeling of normal weight, at any angle he flew…even while inverted.

With the thump of docking clamps joining the shuttle to the larger ship, and a hiss of molecular seals forming, the Doodlebug was nestled in her special cradle atop the little starship. Harry shut down all the systems only to realize that meant the grav-sims too.

~Shite!~ He hung upside down for a moment, wondering if it was worth the trouble of bringing the shuttle’s systems back on line. Finally he decided ‘screw it’, and raised a hand toward the ceiling. Tapping the control for the seat restraint, he fell…about half a foot…until his hands took his weight. Twisting sideways on his couch he folded his body and was soon crouching on the ceiling. ~[ /Note to self: Do something about that!/]~

He stepped to the hatch and triggered the release. The portal melted away and he floated down to the main deck of the My Little.

Once down, he secured the little shuttle and ordered the airlock to open.

As before the metal wall melted away showing him the soothing blue-grey walls and the archway to the more brightly colored galley.

In the medical bay he addressed the ship’s AI. “Mione?”

“Good evening, Harry. Welcome back.”

“I have a special assignment for you.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” The AI shot back in a snarky tone.

“You know, I think I’m going to disconnect your language center!”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me to keep you informed as to the ship’s status.”

“I can do that manually.”

“True…but you’d prefer to paint.”

“Sometimes, yes. Right now, I need both our attentions focused on whatever’s wrong with this blood.”

“Frank and Alice?”

“Frank and Alice.”

“Put the samples into the analyzer. Frank first.”


“Oh, so you do have some manners after all!”

“I have a screwdriver, ‘Mione. Don’t make me use it!”

‘Mione chuckled. Harry would no more harm her, than he would the woman for whom she’d been named. They worked seamlessly together. He provided the muscle and intuition, and she, the analytical power of the most advanced computer in existence…nine hundred years in the future!

It took them less than a half hour.

“There is some significant damage to the myelin sheathing at the neural termini.”

A monitor screen lit showing a three-dimensional graphic of the damaged nerve endings. At the termini, it looked as if they had been burnt…severely.

“That will have to be repaired. What worries me though, is the presence of chemicals I am unfamiliar with. My databanks say it is what you call a potion…a particularly long term one.”

A new graphic appeared on the monitor, showing a complex chemical diagram.

“OK, I see it. It seems to…hmmm…I think it’s a memory block, or a memory clouder…at least that’s where it’s focused, and it fits in well, with the perpetrator’s OM. Has it gone into the DNA yet?”

“No. It is still on the cellular level, and shows no signs of metamorphing to a lower level.”

“Well there’s a bit of good news.”

“Perhaps the person who created the potion didn’t know about DNA.”

That’s entirely likely. My suspicion is Albus Toodamnmanynames Dumbledore. While Miescher made the first discovery before Dumbledore was born, but it wasn’t until nearly a hundred years later, in 1943, Levene, Koltzov and Griffith notwithstanding, that it became something other than a medical curiosity. It’s beyond Dumbledore’s world-view, so he doesn’t want anything to do with it.”

“That can only help us. Still, it will take quite some time, to create a proper treatment and even longer to synthesize the necessary…anti-toxin, for want of a better word.”

“Why don’t we start with a crew of nanites to repair the myelin sheathing, you have those templates on file, and we can isolate the potions and break them down to their basic components later.”

“That should work.”

“We may only have to filter the blood.”

“Not likely. The potion has been in their bodies for nearly four years now. If it could be filtered, their own lymphatic systems would have done so by now.

“Damn! I guess we’ll have to send the probes in, to hunt the stuff down.”

“Another caution. Given the assumed nature of the potion, and its probable location in the cerebral cortex, it is likely the potions molecules have bonded with the various neural ganglia, or at least attached themselves to them.”

“Shite!” Harry snarled.

“Language, Harry!” ‘Mione scolded just like Hermione used to.

“Scheisse! Goovnoh! Merde! Dritt! Mierda! Stercum! Merda! Cak! Paska! Cach! Kuso! Sranje!

“Congratulations. You can say ‘Shite’ in twelve different languages…plus English.”

“I can go on if you want. I know plenty more. How about USL?”

“Please don’t.”


June 10 85:

“You called for me Minister? Rufus Scrimgeour wasn’t having a good week. When Bagnold had been sacked, he’d hoped that he would be named as Minister. He had made some very good connections and was definitely in line for the position, but with Amelia holding the office, he knew his ascension would be a long time coming.

“Yes, Rufus. I want you as director of DMLE. I’ve asked Connie to be my Deputy Minister and Alastor will take over as head of the Auror corps.”

“With all due respect, Minister, why me? I’m hardly the…”

“Rufus…” She interrupted. “You are probably the most disliked man in the Auror Corps…but you have what you need to do the job and do it well. I have a feeling in my belly, and that feeling points directly to Albus Dumbledore. He’s had his finger in far too many pies, and for far too long for my liking. As I see it, he was directly responsible for the Potter murders, and I suspect he had something to do with the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, as well. Three of my Aurors died…or worse…because of him, and given what we learned from Cheatham and Crouch, he is at least indirectly involved in so many senior Deez buying their way out of Azkaban. The problem is, while we’ve temporarily neutered him, he’s written so many of our laws with built in exemptions for himself and anyone he names, that even out of office, he’s effectively untouchable. Now, if he can do that much with impunity, imagine what else he can do.”

“I see your point. But what can we do?”

I want to work with the populace, in as peaceful and cooperative a manner as possible, but to balance that…to prevent the idea of ‘cooperation is surrender’ we need a hardliner in control of MLE…and that’s you. You are as unyielding as I am, and that will set the standard for the rest. Bigotry is tolerable, but only if it goes no further than your front door. I want the population to understand there will be no repeat of Voldemort! I only ask you to set aside your dislike for the muggleborns and halfbloods. It’s really not professional and it could well cause more trouble that we want.”

Rufus was well known for his thoughts on muggleborns. That he hadn’t yet referred to any of the few muggleborns in the Auror department as ‘mudbloods’ was credited more to his public image more than his feelings.

“What difference does that make?”

“Rufus, what is the percentage of purebloods in our society?”

“Twelve and a half percent.” He replied immediately.

“And that means eighty seven and a half percent are either muggleborns, or half, or full bloods.”

“And? Any pureblood is worth ten muggleborns.”

Amelia sighed at the man’s obtuse bigotry.

“Rufus, who are the three most powerful wizards in Britain”

“Albus Dumbledore, and if Pettigrew can be believed, Voldemort.”

“And the third?”

“I don’t know. Possibly you, or even me.”

“Not even remotely. In sheer magical potential, I’m slightly more powerful than you are, just slightly…” She held her finger and thumb about a half inch apart. “…but we are fifteenth and sixteenth respectively.”

She paused for effect, then added; “Third is Harry Potter.”

“A child?”

“Mmmhmmm!” Amelia nodded. “I tested him personally when he was one. His Murchison index was off the scale for a baby. Given that James and Lily were as powerful as they were, he should have been showing one fifties to two hundreds…at the very top. His numbers were consistent three-sixties and three-eighties. When he’s grown, he could easily triple Dumbledore’s score. Now, what do he and number two have in common?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Then I’ll lay it out for you. Both he and Voldemort are halfbloods. Harry’s mother was a muggleborn, an exceptionally powerful one, and his father was a pureblood…not quite as powerful, but raised in the wizarding word. We’ve discovered that Riddle’s mother was a pureblood of very limited power…nearly a squib, and his father was a muggle…not a muggleborn, but a muggle. And yet, both are more powerful, potentially at least, than Dumbledore and if Potter does meet expectations, Merlin…who was also a halfblood…will be in second place.”

Rufus was appalled.

Jun 16th 85

While the Death Eaters had been arrested, except for Malfoy’s drawing a wand during a session of the Wizengamot, there was no real charge against them. As it was now ‘common knowledge’ they were innocent by means of the Imperius curse, Amelia couldn’t have them questioned under Veritaserum as she so desperately wished. Dumbledore also interfered left and right, demonstrating that even without his official positions, he was by no means, a ‘toothless tiger’.

She had to let them go. Malfoy swore bloody vengeance, though for Amelia, that was nothing new. In fact, she told him that should he try, she would take great pleasure in removing him from this mortal coil.

Dumbledore had of course chided her in his gentle manner as to her lack of forgiveness, but she shot back; “I am not a priest, Dumbledore. If you want forgiveness, that’s where you should go.”

Jun 20th 85
Albus Dumbledore was not happy.

His involvement in the murders of the Potters, the madness of the Longbottoms, and the incarceration of Lord Black, had cast great suspicion on him. He’d been furious to learn his titles and positions has either been revoked, or had come under extremely close scrutiny…scrutiny he knew he could by no means withstand.

He had enough enemies who would take a great deal of pleasure in his political and social humiliation, and unfortunately, that bitch Bones, led the howling pack. He knew his time of supremacy over the world’s wizarding population was nearing an end, but couldn’t for the life of him, understand what had gone so wrong?

As a result of his removal from his offices of authority in Britain, his position in the ICW had been called under review. Unfortunately for him, the ICW was more competent than the Wizengamot. Discrepancies had been found in his dealings between certain hostile countries, that served no identifiable purpose, and he was removed from that position as well.

He hung on to his post at Hogwarts by mere fingertips, and that was only because he had the support of people he would much rather not support him…such as Malfoy and the ‘former’ Death Eaters.

Even then, his teachers looked upon him with suspicion, or n some cases, outright contempt. The house-elves refused to heed his call, and while they cleaned his clothing and freshened his chambers, their work was slipshod and carelessly done.

Oh the humiliation!

June 30th 85:

Lucius Malfoy was not happy. His most public humiliation at the hands of that…witch in the minister’s office cried out for vengeance, but he knew her threat to respond in a like manner should she or hers ever come under attack, was more than truthful.

He also understood that she was responsible for nearly as many of his fellow Death Eaters killed as Mad-Eye himself, and should they ever cross wands, one on one, at the end of the contest, he would undoubtedly remain behind…waiting to be buried.

He called out; “Dobby!”

Instantly the trembling elf appeared with a crack.

“You took three seconds, to respond, Dobby. Punish yourself!”

The elf knew he hadn’t taken nearly that long, but he was a house elf and his master was his master.

Poor Dobby ran headfirst into a wall, bouncing off it with a meaty thump. As he was still conscious, he grabbed a bronze statuette from a shelf and began to beat himself over the head with it.

Lucius allowed the self-flagellation to continue for a bit, but knowing how difficult it would be to obtain another elf, he called out in a bored tone; “Stop!”

Dobby did so in mid-swing. He set the bronze back on the shelf and turned his huge eyes toward his master and asked tremulously; “You…You has summoned Dobby, Master?”

“Fetch me a large firewhiskey.”

“Yes, Master. Immediately!” Dobby popped away again with a loud crack. Lucius wondered if there was a way to quiet the elf when he popped, however he knew he made quite a bit of noise himself whenever he apparated, and assumed the same must be true for everyone.

Dobby returned, holding a tumbler filled with the amber liquid. Lucius snatched the drink hoping to spill it and punish his elf some more, however, it seemed that luck was not on his side. The tumbler remained upright, and nary a drop spilt.

He could turn it over, but this was an exceptionally fine vintage. Nearly three hundred years old and as smooth as silk. Given the quality of the whiskey, not to mention what he paid for it, he detested the idea of wasting so much as a drop. Instead, he merely kicked the trembling elf and ordered him to begone.

Dobby popped away and Lucius sat in the comfortable parlor chair, sipped his whiskey and stared into the fire.

It took some time. Despite what some people thought, Lucius Malfoy, was both very intelligent and exceptionally capable. He carefully turned idea after idea over in his head, imagining them, inspecting them for flaws and discarding them when he found their weaknesses.

Nearly four hours later a thought struck him. Bones was untouchable. Morally, financially and physically, and she had a certain ruthlessness that ensured nobody he knew would even get close before she killed them. Her niece Susan was as well protected with a constant guard around her at all times. On the other hands, perhaps Bones would respond to a different form of persuasion.

While she was an exceptional Auror and an excellent administrator, her devotion to the law blinded her to ‘other’ ways. More, she was a blood traitor. She believed in Dumbledore’s rhetoric, if not quite as avidly as some other people he would not name, and she believed that every witch or wizard, no matter their blood, deserved a chance to learn magic.

That would be where he would strike.

The mudbloods.

With a smile, Lucius stood, set his nearly empty glass aside and stepped across the parlor. Kneeling on the satin pillow intended for that purpose, he tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fire and called out; “Oristes Parkinson!”


Oristes Parkinson had been dreading this call. With Lucius’ embarrassment at the hands of Minister Bones, he would undoubtedly be seeking some form of vengeance. Unfortunately very few who crossed wands with Bones survived…and those few who did were in Azkaban. He had no desire to join them, but Lucius had a great deal of influence, even now. He could easily destroy Parkinson’s credibility, his fortune, his social standing, or should he decide to…even have him killed by their ‘former’ associates.

He replied to Lucius’ call, kneeling in the same manner as the platinum-haired aristocrat.

“Lucius” He greeted with a smile that came nowhere near his eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Meet me at the Redoubt. Contact your group and have them do the same. One hour!”
Lucius backed away from the fire and ended the call, leaving Parkinson fuming.

~How dare he treat me like a servant?~

Nevertheless, he began to call in his fellows, instructing them to meet at the dark lord’s hidden lair.


The Redoubt was perhaps the Dark lord’s most important base of operations. Little more than an abandoned castle from the Saxon days, but well hidden all the same. It had served as a refuge and as a planning center during the beginning of the last war…before the sheep had begun to forget their places. Now, it was merely an ancient castle hidden under a variety of charms.

Having gathered his associates, Lucius began. “I have developed a plan that will not only rid us of nearly five hundred mudbloods and the muggle filth that produced them but also remove both Bones and Dumbledore from their positions.”

“How?” Lucius recognized the voice of his old friend and one of the challengers for his image of utter respectability, Denias Avery. As a Death Eater, Avery was about average. His real value…like Lucius’ came from his financial dealings. While Lucius was the dark lord’s primary banker, Denias was his legal voice. It was Lucius who introduced so many laws to benefit the Voldemort aligned purebloods, but it was Avery who made them into usable form. While they were friends of a sort and rivals, Lucius knew he should discount Avery only to his peril. He would have to do something about the man.

“I will contact someone of our acquaintance, to provide me access to the intake book.

“If you mean Snape, we can’t trust that bastard! He was spying on us for that bloody muggle-lover!” Mulciber growled.

“Actually, that’s precisely why we can trust him.” Lucius returned. “Severus follows one path…that of enlightened self-interest. If he was spying for Dumbledore, then when the dark lord returns…and we all know he will return, then we can serve him up, to appease the master’s anger. On the other hand, if, as I suspect, he was spying on Dumbledore’s Order, the dark lord would wish to protect a vital asset. More to the point, we can demonstrate his loyalty to the cause by his response to my…request.”

None of them had an answer.


Lucius had invited Severus over to dinner, ostensibly to see his godson. Severus had often wondered why that Christian term was used by the very people they so abhorred. No matter. Draco was a bubbly, lively child, filed with joy and life. He knew that soon enough the boy would be turned into a near copy of his father, but Severus would have no say in the matter. ~Aah well, perhaps it’s for the best.~ He mused. ~The master will want younger servants when he returns anyway.~

They played together until the five year old grew tired. Narcissa ushered the boy to bed, and they adjourned to the parlor.

Dobby appeared with three glasses and a decanter of firewhiskey. As Lucius poured, Narcissa entered the room.

Lucius dismissed the elf and described his plan to both his wife and his associate.

While Snape had suspected skullduggery, he had never even considered the idea in Lucius’ head. In one fel stroke, Lucius would topple the government, discredit Dumbledore and rid the world of those filthy mudbloods and the vermin who spawned them!

His plan was absolutely brilliant. It only required one thing from him. Fortunately, it was something deniable.

Lucius wanted unrestricted access to the student intake book. That book was one of the most closely guarded treasures in the castle, for it told them who would be attending school in the coming years. Severus was one of the very few who knew both where it was and what protections surrounded it, partly due to that ludicrous oath Dumbledore had made him swear. He smirked. His vow of loyalty to the old man had been so loosely worded, it could mean anything…or nothing.

Severus made his choice. Not surprisingly, it was the same choice he’d made years before. He’d take care of himself…and the world be damned.

“The most likely opportunity would be the thirty first of August. The headmaster is always busy that day, preparing for the coming term, and should ignore your presence. Come through my private floo, and if he asks, I can tell him you were merely visiting.


A/N: While Fletcher is an irredeemable criminal in canon, one wonders how he came to that point. One also wonders where Rita got her animosity toward Dumbledore specifically. These could be the reasons.

Yeah, yeah, I know Harry can apparate anywhere he wants, but I wanted him to fly the Doodlebug.

“Scheisse!(German) Merde!(French) Mierda!(Spanish) Merda!(Italian) Stercum!(Latin) Cak! (Irish) Cach!(Welsh) Kuso (Japanese) Goovnoh! (Polish) Dritt (Norweigen) Paska(Finnish) Sranje (Serbian)

USL Universal Sign Language.

I don’t like Rufus Scrimgeour. As was shown in HBP he was willing to ‘bend the laws to get what he wanted. He shot a stinger at Harry and then threatened him with arrest if he retaliated, saying; “You’re not in school now.” I wonder what he would have done had Harry simply knocked him on his ass.

Still, if Amelia keeps a close eye on him, he can be an effective head of the DMLE.

‘Merlin…who was also a halfblood…’ depending upon which story you prefer.
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