A Promise Kept - Chapter 34 - A Proposition

A Proposition

He slid the glass of Firewhiskey towards the man sitting on the opposite side of the desk, and watched as he picked it up, sniffing it with suspicion before nodding and taking a sip.

It was unlike Alastor Moody to accept a drink from anyone, but given the dark circles around his eyes, he needed it just as much as Sirius.

“I can’t believe he is gone, lad,” the former auror sighed.

“None of us can, Alastor.”

The man took another sip of the liquor, his scars twisting unpleasantly as he grimaced.

“Aye, so, why did you ask me here?”

“I need you to replace me.”

Alastor frowned.

“You want me to teach here?” he chuckled. “You’re as mad as they say I am.”

“Maybe, but I cannot think of anyone I would trust enough or who is capable of doing it, not like you.”

Alastor frowned and said nothing for several moments whilst he nursed his drink.

“Aye, I’ll do it,” he agreed. “Think of it as a last favour to Albus.”

“Thank you, old friend, but there is something else.”

“The Order.”

Sirius nodded.

“We need to get them back together…”

“For what good they will be. We lost the best of them last time. Benji, Dorcas, the Prewetts. The list goes on. It won’t be like it was.”

“Then we must build it back up.”

“Aye, leave it with me. I have a few people in mind.”

He’d been as surprised as he was pleased with how readily Alastor had accepted to fill in for him teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and as he caught sight of the latest addition to the Hogwarts’ staff seated at the very front of the hundreds gathered, he offered him an appreciative nod.

All of this, here today on the grounds of the school was merely a memorial service for the masses to say their goodbyes and celebrate the life Albus had lived.

He’d been buried the previous week in Godric’s Hollow, along with the rest of his family, leaving Aberforth as the last Dumbledore.

Although he’d not said or shown as much, the younger brother of the headmaster had been hurt at the loss of Albus, even if he had not been able to bring himself to share some kind words about his sibling.

What had happened between the two of them, Sirius didn’t know, and in truth, he wasn’t so interested.

As much as he missed Albus, and as much as the man would be needed in the months and years to come, he was gone, and they, collectively, would need to find a way to go on without him.

He frowned as Cornelius Fudge took to the stage, the smile he wore as false as his concern for Hogwarts had been when he’d attempted to install the likes of Dolores Umbridge here for his own benefit.

Sirius chose not to listen to the man’s drivel and instead focused on what lie ahead of them.

Dark days.

For now, and maybe even for a while, all would appear to be well, but that wasn’t so. Somewhere, Voldemort was already plotting, already beginning to lay down his foundations, and rebuild on those that crumbled a little more than a decade ago as he readied himself for another grab at power.

This time, however, Sirius could already sense that it would be much worse than the first time around, more violent, and bloodier, and at the very centre of it all, as much as it pained him, would be his godson whom he’d sworn to protect.

How could he do that when one day soon Harry would be of an age to make his own decisions, he didn’t know.

“I’ll watch your back just as you’ll watch mine. That’s how it should be, Padfoot.”

James had said that to him when the two of them had been recruited as members of the Order of the Phoenix, and they had. During those violent months they’d done their utmost to prevent the Death Eater attacks, they had watched over each other, saved each other’s lives numerous times, and had stuck to that agreement.

Sirius would do the same for James’s son, would continue to watch over him, and have his back when Harry needed it.

“What a load of shit.”

It was unusual for Remus to swear, so, for him to deem Fudge’s words as such through the lukewarm applause the Minister received meant it had to indeed been as rehearsed and heartless as Sirius expected.

“What did he say?”

Remus shook his head.

“Platitudes and politics. Did you expect something else?”

“No,” Sirius muttered irritably.

Fudge could declare that he adored Albus, that he was grieving the death of the man that those gathered did respect and admire, but he knew the truth.

Inside, Cornelius Fudge was pleased to be rid of Dumbledore, and undoubtedly already planning on who he intended to see as the next Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot.

His bid to have power within the school had been scuppered, for now, but something more permanent would need to be arranged.

Sirius frowned as he pondered that very thing, his gaze drifting to where Lucius was seated with Narcissa.

His cousin had not spared him a glance, and he’d expected nothing less.

She had been elated to marry Lucius, but that had undoubtedly changed when Voldemort had become more prominent, and with it, the knowledge that she had married an unpleasant man who’d murdered, tortured, and likely caried out many other acts against those he and his master deemed to be unworthy.

Sirius would at least give the woman the due credit that, when they had been children, she’d been rather enamoured with a different path in life, had even been polite, respectful, and courteous to him when he’d all but fallen out of favour with much of the family.

Still, that didn’t change that she had gone on to marry into the Malfoy family, and that Sirius had every intention of seeing her husband finally reap what he had sown over the many years he’d escaped justice from the first war, and the atrocities he’d committed during it.

The very thought brought a grim smile to his lips, and though he certainly did not long for war to be upon them, he could not wait to finally have an excuse to deal with Lucius Malfoy once and for all.

(Break)

“I really am sorry about Professor Dumbledore.”

Flitwick offered him a sad smile.

“Thank you, Harry,” he sighed tiredly as he rubbed his eyes. “It has been a most trying of weeks, for Minerva more than anyone else.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

The two of them had been close for decades, since Professor McGonagall had been a student here herself. He’d yet to visit her, choosing to give her some needed space to grieve.

“Why didn’t you accept the Headmaster’s position?” he asked curiously.

“For many reasons, Harry. Firstly, I have never coveted it. I love teaching, and have no intention of stepping away from it, and secondly, it would cause quite the uproar in certain circles.”

“Because you are not fully human.”

“Exactly. I am used to being looked down on in many regards, and Albus had quite the job convincing me to accept the teaching post, even more so to become the Head of Ravenclaw. I do not wish for more responsibility, nor to be placed in a position where I am scrutinised even more than I am now.”

“Even if you were the best person for the job after Minerva.”

Filius smiled appreciatively.

“I am grateful for the faith you have in me, Harry, but whether or not I am good at it wouldn’t matter to some. They would find a way to oust me. No, it is much better to have someone like Sirius as Headmaster. Not only is he from a powerful family that few would wish to find themselves on the wrong side of, but his position is also much easier to fill.”

“Moody.”

Filius chuckled.

“He is quite the character, and always has been, but a truly exceptional man, Harry. Very few could boast his achievements as an auror, and Albus held him in the highest of esteem. The students will benefit from his teachings, now, more than ever.”

“Voldemort.”

Filius nodded darkly.

“Those days are not so easily forgotten, and I am sorry, but partly because of that…”

“You’re going to cancel our plans for the summer.”

“I am. With what happened to Albus, I do not think it is wise to tempt fate.”

Harry felt himself wince at the mention of the man’s final word.

“I understand, Professor.”

“Thank you, Harry, but our work will continue. I fear you will need all the help I can give you, and I expect Alastor will be quite keen to assist us. His experience in true combat could be quite invaluable to you, after all.”

“Then I look forward to it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Filius snorted. “They do not call him Mad-Eye without reason.”

Harry was yet to be introduced to the famed auror, and he would not likely meet him until the next school year.

In only a few days, the students of Ilvermorny would be returning home, and for the first time since he’d been attending, he wasn’t certain he was looking forward to it.

“Born as the seventh month dies,” he murmured.

It had been all but impossible to put the words of the prophecy out of his mind, nor what it had meant for him and his family in the past, nor what weight the words would carry in the future.

As he’d suspected, it wasn’t his mother and father Voldemort had come for that Halloween night. No, he’d come for Harry, and James and Lily Potter had merely been obstacles in the way.

Perhaps worse was that his parents had undoubtedly known about the prophecy, and it was the reason the two of them had gone into hiding. It was a bitter pill for Harry to swallow to know that his mother had been keeping such a secret from him, and though he understood she only wished to protect him, he could not help but feel irked by the omission of something so important.

This was his life, and he had a right to know just why the Dark lord had come for them.

All these years until quite recently, he’d been under the assumption that Voldemort simply wanted the Potters dead for their efforts against him, but no, it was not so simple.

It was the words of the prophecy that had led him to Godric’s Hollow.

“Did you say something?” Sabine asked sleepily from where she rested her head on his chest.

“Just talking to myself.”

She laughed as she leaned up and met his gaze with her own.

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” she reminded him with a smile. “I’m quite enjoying not talking or thinking about anything going on out there.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed, frowning as a roll of parchment drifted lazily towards him from above. “Well, that lasted long.”

Snatching it out of the air, he unfurled it and took in the unfamiliar scrawl, chastising himself for not checking it for curses first.

Tonight, the path will be clear for you…

CC

“A love note from an admirer?” Sabine asked.

“No, not quite,” Harry chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully before she placed a kiss on his cheek and offered him a grin. “Do I have a reason to be?”

“No, not unless I suddenly find that I am attracted to men I haven’t even seen.”

“What does that mean?”

Harry shrugged.

“Believe me, I wish I knew,” he sighed, his eyes drifting towards the sky.

He could feel Fawkes somewhere nearby again.

The phoenix was mourning and doing so with song somewhere in the distance.

Harry did feel the sting of Dumbledore’s loss himself, but despite this, he’d been denied the chance to attend the man’s funeral. He understood the reasoning behind the decision, but he would’ve quite liked to say goodbye to the man that had helped him so invaluably these past months.

“What is it?” Sabine asked curiously.

Harry shook his head.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

She kissed him on the cheek once more.

“It will get better. Like I said, if you need to talk…”

“I know,” Harry broke in gratefully. “What plans do you have for the summer?”

“The same as every other, mostly. I’ll likely take a vacation with my mother, spend time with the horses, and I might even squeeze in some time with you.”

“I love how I am last on that list.”

Sabine grinned in response.

“Priorities, Harry,” she said with a shrug. “What about you?”

“I have no idea, but I think it will be interesting, at least.”

“But not in a good way?”

Harry deflated at the question.

“Not bloody likely, for the most part,” he added with a grin of his own. “My original plans have changed, but I have more than enough to occupy my time. Too much, if anything.”

That was the truth of the matter.

Harry had no intention of spending his summer idle. No, if anything, now was the time for him to begin working harder than ever, preparing for what would inevitably be coming for him sooner rather than later.

Voldemort would not wish to delay it.

For the Dark Lord, the quicker he could dispatch of Harry, the better it would be for him, but Harry had no intention of dying at the man’s hands.

No.

Although the odds were so highly stacked against him, Harry had every intention of overcoming them, just as he already had once before.

This time, however, would be different.

He would not be a helpless infant when he and Voldemort met, and the Dark Lord would see that for himself.

(Break)

“I just can’t believe it,” she whispered as Sirius explained everything that had happened in the hours since Dumbledore had been murdered. “How did Crouch…?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sirius sighed, “and I doubt we will be told. I expect Fudge will make an excuse to appease everyone, but I know Barty well enough to know he did not do this of his own accord. He might not have been fond of Albus, but Crouch is no murderer. For Merlin’s sake, he sent his own son to Azkaban.”

Lily nodded as she considered what all of this meant.

For one thing, she did not doubt that Voldemort was behind this, and that could only mean he found himself in a position that he was comfortable to do something so bold.

That did not bode well for anyone, especially her son.

“Harry…”

“Will be kept as safe as he always is,” Sirius said firmly. “I have already spoken to him about being vigilant and not doing anything stupid. He will listen, Lily. He might be a bloody pain in the arse at times, but he’s not an idiot.”

Lily nodded, though she was not quite convinced.

She remembered the conversations with the boy when he’d been much younger and plagued by the nightmares she would be comforting him after.

The promises he’d made had been sincere, and she did not doubt he still meant every word, even now.

It worried her, more so than the prospect of another war like the first without Albus to lead them. She’d had her reservations of the man over the years, had been displeased about going into hiding at his behest, but ultimately, he’d always done what he believed was right, and they would certainly be worse off without him.

“What’re we going to do, Sirius?” she asked worriedly.

“The Order,” he answered. “We will need to reinstate it, but there is something I need you to do for me.”

“Me?”

“I need you to find Horace Slughorn. Snape has fled the castle, and it doesn’t look like he will be back.”

“He fled?”

“Barely an hour after Dumbledore was killed. He’s either gone into hiding…”

“Or joined him,” Lily finished with a growl.

She had only ever felt disappointment that the boy she had once considered her friend had trodden the path he had, and struggled to understand how it was he’d avoided a lengthy stint in Azkaban.

Oddly, it had been Albus who’d fought for him to be free, and in the commotion that was the aftermath of the war, had managed it, only to appoint Severus to replace Horace shortly after.

“Have you tried writing to him?”

“The owls cannot find him, so, I’m assuming he’s gone into hiding himself. He always did know more than most about what was going on.”

Lily nodded her agreement.

Horace Slughorn was one of the most well-connected men in wizarding Britain. Through the connections and relationships he’d cultivated over the years, his list of contacts was quite impressive.

“I will see what I can do,” she promised.

“Thank you,” Sirius said tiredly.

He’d barely been home since the evening of the final task of the tournament.

Between attending to his new duties as the headmaster of Hogwarts, and those of his position on the Wizengamot, he’d been stretched quite thin, barely taking any time for himself to rest.

Not that Lily had been able to manage much of that for herself.

Since she’d learned of what had happened, her nights had been sleepless as she worried about what the future held, especially for Harry.

Neither can live whilst the other survives.

The words of the prophecy haunted her so, and even now, despite having had years to decipher their meaning, she was o closer to doing so.

What she did know, however, was that nothing was set in stone, that the future was as bleak as it was uncertain.

She shook her head as she continued sifting through the trunk she’d used during her years at Hogwarts.

Horace had written to her numerous times throughout each summer, and Lily had replied in kind, but she could find no mention of the return address she was certain she’d noted down more than once.

With a frown, she closed the lid, knowing it would not be so easy to find her former professor.

No, she would need to be a little more creative than that, and she had an idea of where to begin in her search of the elusive man.

(Break)

There was something almost comforting about the musty aroma of Grimmauld Place. It was as though the house could sense his unease, and it was watching over him.

Perhaps, it was.

Harry remembered the many lectures Sirius had given him over the years about the Black magic, and with him being the current heir of the family, his thoughts might not be so far off the mark.

“Master Harry is here.”

The words were not spoken with any fondness.

If anything, Harry suspected the house elf that had greeted him was doing his utmost to hide his disdain for him, and even the bow given was half-hearted at best.

“Hello, Kreacher,” he greeted the elf warily.

This was one of the other things Sirius had warned him about.

Kreacher had been deeply loyal to the other members of the family, those that had despised his godfather, so, Harry knew to be cautious around him.

The elf merely smiled in response before vanishing, and Harry could only shake his head.

Kreacher had never come to greet him when he’d arrived any other time, and he could not help but wonder why he would now, though those thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden song he could once more here somewhere in the distance.

For reasons not known to him, Fawkes seemed to be staying nearby, maybe watching over him in Albus’s absence, or maybe taking some comfort in being in Harry’s presence.

“When you’re ready,” Harry murmured, consulting the map of London he’d borrowed from the Ilvermorny library.

Fortunately, it was not such a far walk to the Ministry of Magic from Grimmauld Place, but Harry knew he needed to be careful. It would not do to be caught off guard by any that may be looking out for him.

As such, in lieu of his cloak which he hoped would be returned to him, he applied several concealment charms and even made the extra effort to change his features enough that, even if he was seen, he would not be so easily recognised.

With a glance into the mirror by the front door, he cast the disillusionment charm over himself before stepping out of the property for the first time, only to pause as a small burst of flame erupted in front of him.

A single piece of parchment fell into his hand, along with a red feather belonging to Dumbledore’s longtime companion.

Tentatively, he unrolled the parchment, and a sad smile tugged at his lips as he read the note addressed to him.

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this, it means that my life came to an end much sooner than I had expected or hoped.

Worry not. For those who have lived as many years as me, death is little more than the next great adventure that awaits us all, but I am sorry that I will not be there to assist you when you need it most.

Over the past few years, I have been gathering information and setting things aside in the hope that it will be enough to put an end to the nightmare you have endured throughout your life.

If I could make only one request of you, I would rest easily knowing it is being fulfilled.

Please, watch over Fawkes for me as he will watch over you.

It is not often he takes a liking to any, and for a while, I expect he will be grieving for my loss, but he will come to you with all I have left in your possession.

It has been a pleasure getting to know in the short time we had, and as always, I have every faith in your victory.

Yours, always,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Harry nodded appreciatively as he pocketed the note, and checked his spells were in effect before making his way towards the Ministry, somewhat in a daze, but remaining as vigilant as ever.

It was only around fifteen minutes later that he found himself before the very same phonebox he and Albus had used the same night he’d been killed, and as he entered and lifted the receiver, he fought the urge to chuckle.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic.  Please state your name and the nature of your visit this evening,” the voice on the other end requested.

In a moment of inspiration, Harry responded in a way Dumbledore himself would undoubtedly be proud of.

“Dilbus Amblefore, on the lookout for Sherbet Lemons.”

A small badge fell into where change would usually be dispensed, and Harry proudly pinned it to the front of his robes, a fond smile gracing his lips as he descended into the depths below London that was the Ministry of Magic.

(Break)

She charged forwards as she spotted the Triwizard cup on the plinth in the distance, acutely aware that she was not alone. Diggory had emerged from the adjoining fork of the maze, and the two of them found themselves in a duel to be the first to claim victory.

Despite having something of a head start, the Hogwarts champion was faster than her, and he soon pulled ahead, only to have his ankle snagged by one of the hedges.

Fleur stepped over his flailing body, trying to ignore his pleas for help, but her morality won out in the end.

Before she could assist Cedric, however, the maze collapsed around them, the cup vanished, and the silence they had been plunged into turned into the sounds of screams from the crowd.

“What the hell is happening?” Diggory asked confusedly as he stood.

Fleur frowned.

“Do you think it is part of the task?”

“No, I don’t think so,” the boy answered. “Professor Black, What…”

“The task is over,” Sirius said severely. “You are to make your way to the castle immediately. “All will be explained in due course.”

He hurried back to the gathered group, and both Fleur and Cedric did as they were bid, making their way towards the castle with the rest of the students, not missing the arrival of the aurors, healers, and others she believed to be other staff members of the Ministry of Magic.

With the news that Dumbledore, Crouch, Bagman, and Karkaroff were dead, and Madame Maxime was in a critical condition, their departure from Hogwarts back to France had been swift.

Fleur found herself back at Beauxbatons within a matter of hours, once more shocked by the turn of events the tournament had taken.

What had happened during the second task was one thing, but the death of four out of five of the judges was another entirely, and what she had overheard since only made it worse.

Of course, they were only rumours that were circulating, but her father was taking them seriously, and her mother was deeply troubled by them.

Voldemort.

He’d been all but on the cusp of victory over Britain before he’d made the mistake of attacking Harry’s family, with the ambition to take France next. He had fallen before he could realise it, but they may have just changed.

Fleur too was worried.

With Dumbledore dead, there was none that stand against the Dark Lord, save for one, and the thought of just who that was did not lessen her concern.

Harry.

Gabrielle was taken with him in whatever feelings she had realised since her changes had begun, and Fleur could not deny that she was fond of the boy.

She did not know him as well as her sister, but she had gotten a glimpse of another side to him the night of the ball when he’d confronted Draco Malfoy.

She had seen something in his eyes, a malice she’d not thought possible, but it didn’t make her fearful. No, where people like Draco were cruel to those he believed himself to be above, Harry was protective, which didn’t mean he was less capable of inflicting harm on others.

Fleur had seen it, had even felt it radiating from him, and in that moment, she had felt safe in his company.

Even so, she did not doubt that what happened that night didn’t still plague him, that already, he’d not been thinking about looking for Voldemort himself, even if it was rumoured he was back.

“Any news?” her mother asked as her father entered the kitchen.

He’d attended Dumbledore’s funeral as a mark of respect from the French government, and for the man himself that had single-handedly saved Europe during Grindelwald’s occupation of it.

“Nothing new,” he answered tiredly. “Sirius is the Headmaster, and the Ministry has not yet named a new Chief Warlock or Supreme Mugwump. Britain is a mess. I can’t see how…”

He broke off as Gabrielle entered the kitchen.

As far as Fleur knew, she’d remained ignorant of much of what their parents had been discussing this past week, but she wasn’t stupid. Gabrielle always knew more than she was letting on.

“What is it?” she asked.

Her father gave her what he likely thought was a comforting smile.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said dismissively. “Come, it is late. I’ll take us all-out for dinner.”

Gabrielle appeared to want to press the matter, but a stern look from their mother prevented her from doing so. Instead, she looked towards Fleur questioningly, who shrugged in response.

Truthfully, she did not know what to say to her younger sister about anything that had happened, not anything that would bring her any comfort, at least.

(Break)

Sirius Black being named as the headmaster of Hogwarts was not a development he’d expected, and certainly not a coup Lucius had been prepared for.

The man had been too busy pandering to the Minister and had let quite the opportunity to place someone sympathetic to their cause within.

Had Severus not been so quick to leave his post, perhaps the situation could be salvaged, and now, the Dark Lord was blind to all that was happening in the castle.

He could not even rely upon Barty to spy. When his father had been alive, it had been simple enough. According to Wormtail, the map Black possessed would not differentiate between the father and son who shared the same name.

Now, it was all but impossible, but he needed a solution, a way to progress with the long list of things he needed to achieve before he could continue pursuing the victory that had been snatched from him a little more than a decade ago.

“My Lord,” Barty greeted him with a bow. “What would you have of me?”

He drummed the tips of his fingers on the arm of the chair as he pondered his next course of action. There was much to do be done, but none of which could begin whilst certain pieces were still in play.

“Send in Macnair. I have a job for him. Your time will come, Barty.”

The man offered another bow before leaving the room, and the Dark Lord removed his wand and twirled it between his fingers.

Thus far, all had gone well with the ritual.

There had been no unpleasant or unexpected side-effects, and he continued to feel as strong as he ever did before that Halloween night.

As ever, his work had proven to be flawless, but it was only the beginning.

Soon enough, Britain would remember why it was they were fearful to even speak his name aloud.

Lord Voldemort was indeed back, they just did not know it yet.

(Break)

Clarence had once been one of those fascinated by the mystery surrounding the veil. When he’d first joined the department several decades prior, he had spent time in front of the ominous construct, inspecting the runes that none had been able to decipher, and listening for the voices others claimed to hear.

They’d never spoken to him, and throughout his time here, he’d seen several come and go that had lost themselves to it.

It all began well enough. They would take interest in it, just as he had, and slowly but surely, the compulsion to step through would set in.

None had ever returned, and there had been no reaction from the veil.

Clarence had seen three men and two women step through it before any could stop them, and it simply swallowed them up.

His gaze roamed over the odd archway, and then around the large circular room it had been built in.

The stonework here was likely just as old as the veil itself, which made him think that perhaps it was once a theatre of sorts, somewhere those that lived here gathered to bear witness to something lost in time.

Whatever the true purpose, it did not matter.

The Ministry had used it on occasion to carry out executions, but not knowing the nature of the magic within, it had been some years since the last had been forced through.

Maybe it did kill those unfortunate enough to find themselves at its mercy, or perhaps it was a gateway of sorts.

Clarence had long ago given up on any notion he had of learning the truth, and for the most part, ignored it entirely.

“What do the voices say to you, Mr Potter?”

The boy took the place next to him, and he frowned as he listened intently, grimacing a moment later.

“I’m not sure, but some seem to be at peace, some tortured, but it is the laughter that bothers me.”

“Laughter, as in a child’s laughter?”

“No, it is the laughter of a man that has taken leave of his senses. He enjoys the suffering of the tormented. It is much louder than anything else, almost as though he could step through at any time.”

Clarence shuddered involuntarily.

“Perhaps we should move on,” he suggested. “Come, there is much for us to discuss.”

“Have you decided…”

Clarence held up a hand.

“Not here. The walls may well have ears.”

Harry nodded, and Clarence led him to his study, where he had spent much of the week experimenting with dozens of samples he’d been working with. It had been a rather arduous task with mixed results, but none that filled him with confidence.

Certainly not enough to progress any further. The risks were too great for any to even consider.

Only a damned fool would do so, and though Potter was eager, he was not so idiotic.

No, it was indeed a fool’s errand, and the boy seemed to understand that before Clarence even spoke.

“The magic is much too imprecise, volatile, and unpredictable. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend we continue our work. I am sorry if that is not what you wished to hear, but the good news is, I have what I believe to be a better theory of what happened in comparison to what I have been working on.”

“You do?” Harry asked interestedly.

Clarence nodded and gestured for him to take a seat.

“You see, when magics come together, the way they interact usually depends on the nature of that interaction. When you were a babe, your mother’s magic protected you, for the most part, from the magic of the Dark Lord. Old magic, Mr Potter, that still resides within you. When you were saved by Mrs Delacour, her magic interacted with your own in a similar way, and your magic accepted it for the nature it was intended and is still making use of it. Do you follow?”

The boy nodded.

“Now, if we were to attempt to force your magic, and that of another, as we have been looking into, the relationship between the magics is different. It is not an organic coming together. From what I have seen, both treat the other as a threat. They intermingle, even quite harmoniously in some cases, but that could change in a heartbeat. If that were to happen whilst both were within you…”

“It could be quite dangerous.”

Clarence nodded, pleased the boy was grasping his explanation.

“Indeed, and likely lethal. No, I do not believe it is wise to even make such an attempt. I do, however, have a proposition for you that I believe will prove to be quite beneficial.”

“What is it?”

“Well, we both heard the prophecy that night, and whether either of us like it or not, it is not so difficult to understand what is likely to come to pass. For that, you must be ready. Now, I am no fighter, Mr Potter, but the Department of Mysteries can provide much for you on your journey. I would propose that we reach an accord, an agreement that I will assist you in any way I can, and you in turn will agree to five years of working with us in the future, when you feel you can dedicate yourself to our work here.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“In principle,” Clarence confirmed. “Of course, I do not expect an answer this very moment. It is something you should consider carefully, but I think you have much to offer the wizarding world beyond defeating the Dark Lord. Of course, I would like to assess you closely. We do not just hire anyone, after all.”

The boy frowned curiously.

“Did Dumbledore ever work here?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny the appointment of any other member of the department, but I can say that Albus have been acquaintances and even friends long before that prophecy was made.”

Harry nodded.

“I don’t see the harm.”

“I can assure you, Mr Potter, you will come to no harm, and that the department can be quite the significant resource for those that need it.”

“Where do we begin?” the boy asked with an anticipatory smile.

Clarence nodded approvingly.

“Follow me, Mr Potter.”