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Chapter Three:

“Ahhh... young love,” Albus murmured as Minerva and he walked back towards Hogwarts.

“Reminds me of when we were younger,” Minerva replied, squeezing Albus’ hand.

“My dear, we are still quite young enough,” he replied with a wink. “Do you remember...” he whispered in her ear about one night he remembered in particular.

Minerva’s cheeks turned pink. “Albus!” She stared at him in shock, then started giggling. “I didn’t think you’d remembered that... you had woken up in the hospital wing, after all.”

“I’m sure we could do it right this time,” he said suggestively in her ear.

Minerva grinned and leaned up to kiss him. “Well, Professor, I think we should correct our past mistakes, that’s why pencils have erasers, right?”

“Quite right, my dear,” he said, holding the door open for her.

**

“Malfoy,” the wretched voice spoke. The voice hadn’t changed, and neither had the appearance, but Voldemort could feel his body recuperating. He was still pale as bone, thin as a skeleton, but his mind was strong and full of ideas for the downfall of all that was good at Hogwarts.

“Yes, Lord?” Lucius asked, bowing.

“You have a son, do you not?”

“Yes, my Lord, I do.”

“He attends Hogwarts?”

“Yes.”

“Bring him to me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Lucius sent the family eagle owl to Hogwarts with an urgent message for Draco.

~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~

Before the second hour had expired, Draco sidled into the dining room of his father’s manor. “You called for me, Father?” he drawled.

“Our Lord has risen again, Draco. He wishes to speak to you.” Lucius watched as Draco’s eyes widened. “Remember what I taught you,” he said, giving his son a few pointers before going to the sitting room to introduce him.

“My Lord, my son, Draco, is here,” Lucius said, motioning to the door as he bowed.

Draco entered, keeping his eyes low. He bowed low, kissed Voldemort’s robes at the foot, and stood. “You ask for me, My Lord?”

“You have a knowledge of Hogwarts that I do not possess. Tell me about Dumbledore.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He hires werewolves and half-giants to be on the staff and allows mudbloods to attend school with the rest of us. Recently, his affections for Professor McGonagall have become common knowledge. It’s rather sickening, actually.”

“You... remind me of someone, young Draco. Have we ever met before?” Voldemort said, peering at the boy between his fingers as he sat with his fingertips touching in a tall arch.

“No, My Lord. I’m sure I would have remembered,” he replied, knowing that the Dark Lord was remembering the day Draco had told him that the Malfoy’s would always be loyal.

“Ah, well, continue. How about Harry Potter?”

“Potter is Head Boy, and Gryffindor prefect. He has something of a friendship with Dumbledore. He rather openly displays his affections for, of all things, a mudblood. Frighteningly disgraceful, if you ask me.”

“I want to know everything about the staff that you can tell me. Severus Snape, first.”

Draco bowed slightly before telling Voldemort everything he knew about Snape, Sprout, McGonagall, Madam Hooch, Hagrid, Flitwick, Sinistra, Trelawny, Binns, Vector, and even Filch, Pomfrey, and Madam Pince, the librarian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~

Minerva and Albus walked into the Great Hall hand in hand as they did every meal they took together. After sixty years of hiding, they could not honestly care less about any rumors of fraternization. They sat at the Head Table, and Albus gazed at the students before him. He stood and Minerva tapped on a glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention.

The Hall grew silent quickly, and Albus started. “Enjoy!” he said, and the food appeared on everyone’s plate. As the students and staff ate, Albus and Minerva had a quiet conversation over their own dinners.

“I wonder where Mr. Malfoy is tonight,” Albus mused, noticing the empty spot in the midst of the Slytherins where Draco had been sitting since Crabbe and Goyle had been expelled.

“He wasn’t in Transfiguration today, either,” Minerva realized. She had meant to tell Albus, but had forgotten.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Albus said softly to a woman a few seats down, “is Mr. Malfoy currently residing in your hospital wing?”

“No, Professor. Why?” Poppy replied.

“Hmm... maybe he is simply studying in the library,” Albus said, his voice heavy with the humor he found in the comment.

“I’m glad you think that’s funny. I for one would be grateful if he’d spend some time studying,” Minerva said, taking a glance at the Gryffindor table. Head Boy and Girl, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger sat with Prefect Ron Weasley near the middle of the table.

Chapter Four:

“Malfoy!” the shrill voice yelled.

Lucius entered immediately, bowing to the Dark Lord. He was on his feet, pacing as though he’d had more energy than he knew what to do with, which was quite possible, thanks to the potion Lucius had brewed for him. “Yes, My Lord?”

“Show me your arm, Lucius.” He commanded, stopping his paces.

Lucius’ left arm rose toward Voldemort, and he pulled back the left sleeve. The dark mark was burned into his inner forearm and was a red color at present, like the burn was fresh. “It is time to call my subjects,” he said as he put a finger to the mark. Lucius tried to conceal the pain, but the shout tore from his lips regardless.

* * * *

Harry gripped his forehead, feeling as though his skull would split right down his jagged scar. Hermione saw this and heard his groan of pain and leaned over him. “Harry, Harry, are you ok?” The instant she heard the words come from her mouth, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. He was obviously in pain, both physical and mental, since he now knew that Voldemort was rising again.

The pain seemed to stop, but his forehead was throbbing. “Hermione...” he said softly through clenched teeth.

“I’m here, Harry, what was it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know, but I think we need to go speak to the Headmaster,” he said with resolve.

Hermione was grateful that this time she wouldn’t have to convince him to talk to Dumbledore. She took his hand when he offered to help her up from the spot on the grass where they had been sitting. They walked off to find Professor Dumbledore.

* * * *

A circle of Death Eaters formed around Voldemort. They were all hooded and masked, with the exception of Lucius who quickly turned his own wand on himself to don the garb of the others.

“My faithful Death Eaters. Now is the moment you have been waiting for. We will soon have all the power in the world, and not even Albus Dumbledore will be able to stop us.”

Voldemort looked at those in his company. There was Lucius, standing just a bit taller, a bit straighter, and a bit more proud than the others. There was Wormtail with his silver hand poking from his armsleeve with the hulking figures of Crabbe, Sr. and Goyle, Sr. beside him. He counted twenty from his inner circle.

“We shall raise an army, more fearsome than that of Grindelwald’s, more deadly than all the diseases in the world, more powerful than the greatest hurricane, and we shall not fail.”

The Death Eaters rose a cheer that sounded more like the howling of a wolf.

“Crabbe, Goyle, you will go to the mountains and be our ambassadors to the banished giants. If I am correct, Fudge will have been too worried about his position to follow advice that Dumbledore will have been stupid not to give.” Seeing that Crabbe and Goyle didn’t follow the last sentence that he had said, Voldemort rephrased the order. “Go get the giants to join us, now.”

Crabbe and Goyle grunted and apparated away.

“Lucius, you and Nott will go to Azkaban. The dementors will join us once they know about the wonderful feeding frenzy they will have when we take Hogwarts. Release those prisoners who are still loyal to me, any of those who will declare their allegiance can join in the fight, but those who will not will stay to rot in that place.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Malfoy replied with a low bow before he and Nott apparated to Azkaban.

“MacNair, your days of Dangerous Creature Disposal are over. You are to find me the most evil creatures that walk this earth and bring them to join our fight.”

“Yes, My Lord,” MacNair said, bowing with a grin hidden behind his gruesome mask before he too apparated.

* * * *

Harry and Hermione rushed up to the stone gargoyle behind which stood Dumbledore’s tower. “Cockroach Clusters?” he asked, wondering if Dumbledore had changed his last password. At the funny look from Hermione, he explained. “He used names of his favorite candies. That was the password from our fourth year.” He turned back to the gargoyle where he and Hermione started thinking of every sweet they could.

“Lemon Drops, Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans,” Hermione said.

“No, he doesn’t like those,” Harry said with a grin, thinking about the earwax flavored one he had pulled from Harry’s bag when he was in the hospital wing after his duel with Quirrell. “Licorice Wand.”

“Fizzing Whizbee.”

“Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. Chocolate Frog!”

“Sugar Quill,” Hermione said, nearly exhausting her candy bank.

“Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes,” Harry said, jumping back as the gargoyle sprang to one side. “Cauldron Cakes, who knew?” he grinned as they walked up the stairs to the door to Dumbledore’s office. They knocked on the door, and almost immediately heard the Headmaster’s voice.

“Enter, Harry,” he said.

“How’s he do that?” Harry asked Hermione quietly before entering.

Hermione followed Harry in, and stood before Dumbledore’s desk. Professor McGonagall was also in the room, looking worried at a few parchments sitting before her. “What can I do for you, Harry?” he asked kindly.

“Sir, it was my scar. It just started hurting again. I wasn’t sleeping though, so I didn’t have any visions or anything about what it might have been caused by.”

Dumbledore looked grim, his mouth straightened and his brow furrowed just slightly. “It seems that the rumors may be true, then, Minerva,” he said somewhat casually to McGonagall.

Dumbledore looked back at Harry and Hermione and nodded toward Harry. “I think that perhaps it is time that you wrote to your godfather, and perhaps you two would like to study up on some good hexes and curses,” he intoned seriously.

“Is it that serious, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“It may be The Battle. The one that will decide which side comes out victorious,” he replied. “I trust that you two and Ron will be able to provide a steady post for the students of Gryffindor, and indeed, all the students of Hogwarts. I do not want the school in a panic. I will immediately begin plans for evacuating the students.”

“Sir,” Harry interrupted. “I know that many of us would rather stay here and fight by your side.” Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Those that wish to stay,” Harry noticed a slight falter in his voice, “may, but they must understand what they are doing. Nobody younger than fifth year, however, as they will only be ‘cannon-fodder’ as the term goes,” he finished. “We will need to prepare immediately. If the rumors are true, Hogwarts will soon be in the center of a very severe storm. Tell only Ron and your fellow prefects for now. I will announce a prefect’s meeting shortly. I will let you know about plans for evacuation.”

Harry and Hermione stood tall, trying to show that they were capable of handling the load that had been given them. They turned and walked from the office to the room where the prefects would be meeting.

Albus turned to Minerva. “Do you think that they are ready, my dear?”

“They are only a few years younger than I was when I joined you for the fight against Grindelwald,” she reminded him.

“True, but a few years can be a lot at this point in time. He will storm the castle with the most horrible beasts he can find.”

“Albus, we have the Boy-Who-Lived, a boy who was prophesied to be the downfall of the Dark Lord, and has done so three times, four if you count his diary. We have the best witch to be taught at Hogwarts in ages. We have a talented staff that was handpicked by you. We have an entire family here that will fight for one another, regardless. We also have the only wizard that Voldemort was ever afraid of, besides, presumably, Grindelwald. We have some preparation time. I believe we will come out of this victorious,” Minerva said, forcing conviction into her voice. It felt strange to be telling Albus Dumbledore to be confident.

“Yes, Minerva, we have all those, but do not underestimate him, or overestimate ourselves. We will need to begin preparations immediately.” He began making plans to try to inform the old crowd, evacuate the younger students, win the help of the centaurs, and warn the Ministry while Harry and Hermione rushed to the owlery to send Hedwig with a letter for Sirius.