These days, due to their sessions reviewing his memories, Harry visited Dumbledore's office more than any other teacher on the staff. By now the password burst from his lips without a second thought, and he entered unhesitatingly.
However, tonight, things didn't go as they usually did. Rather than being displayed on his desk, Dumbledore's Pensieve was tucked on an out of the way shelf.
"No reviewing tonight?" Harry asked as he settled into his usual chair.
Dumbledore was looking down at what seemed like a particularly nasty bit of paperwork. But at the sound of Harry's voice he looked up, his spectacles sliding a fraction of the way down his long nose.
"I'm afraid I'm far too busy," Dumbledore said somberly. "One of my teachers has come down with an awful case of Stinkitus while attempting to confiscate a box of Stink Pellets. As I hear it, the students weren't thrilled to lose out on their purchase. The fuss they raised set off the entire box, leaving our poor professor with a lungful of the fumes. They'll make a full recovery within the week. But they're bedridden for the moment, leaving me with the excitement of finding a last-minute substitute."
"That's terrible," Harry said. "Who was it?"
A deceptively youthful twinkle entered Dumbledore's eyes. "You."
Harry paused. Gradually, he chuckled. Dumbledore chuckled with him, looking quite pleased with the way that conversation developed.
"I was hoping you would ask that," Dumbledore confessed.
Harry shook his head. "The students are going to tell jokes about me and stink pellets for months. So, let's get this over with. What's the mission that my reputation is being sacrificed for?"
It must have been important. Faking an illness once was easy. Doing so twice would cause some suspicion. Three times, and the paranoid ministry would probably bust into Harry's quarters themselves to check his condition. If Dumbledore was sending him on a mission now, the Headmaster believed it was necessary.
"You may have noticed that compared to the beginning of your fifth year, Hagrid is still present." Dumbledore ran his hands through his long beard one at a time. "I originally intended to send him on a diplomatic mission to the giant colony, as you remember my counterpart doing. It was James who talked me out of it. He pointed out that there was always the chance Voldemort would not sit back, but would instead strike early. If he did indeed act aggressively, we required competent fighters on hand, and Hagrid is among those we trusted most."
"So you gave up on the giants?"
"I sent Maxime. With the climax of the Triwizard Tournament on her mind, she was eager to help. Though a tough task, I believed that Maxime, as a tough woman, would be sufficient." Dumbledore sighed. "Now, I grow worried."
Years ago, Hagrid regaled Harry with the story of his adventure. Everything had been going well, up until Death Eaters instigated a coup. The previous giant leader was killed by a cruel member of his kin called Golgomath. Even working together, Hagrid and Madame Maxime struggled to make it back. Although, Harry couldn't say how much of that was because Hagrid insisted on dragging his half-brother Grawp three-quarters of the way across Europe.
"I didn't expect Voldemort to reach his old allies so quickly," Dumbledore confessed. "Had I known what I saw in your memories, I would never have asked something so dangerous of Maxime. Now, I have more than idle worries. A week ago I lost all contact with her. None of her other acquaintances have seen or heard from her either. I fear the worst."
Harry had never been all that close to Madame Maxime, but he never had anything against her. Stroking his chin, Harry thought of everything he knew, assessing the situation.
"There's a good chance diplomatic relations have already failed, but we don't know," Harry said. "Death Eaters could have attacked her, or they could have just cut communications. Maybe it wasn't even them. The giants could have gotten hostile by themselves. Or, winning their trust required her to avoid magic for a while. But, if it's the worst case…"
"Then the forest she entered has become the den of a hostile giant tribe," said Dumbledore, "with Death Eaters — and ultimately Voldemort — directing their movements. A death trap, to put it delicately."
"Which you want to send me in to." Despite the serious conversation, Harry's tone was clearly light.
"Well, seeing as you recently cut Britain's werewolf population in half, I thought perhaps you might enjoy the chance to take on a different kind of magical creature."
"Hmmmm." Harry pushed his lips to the side, looking lost in thought. "I could go on this mission, but I think I'll need something in return."
"Oh?" Dumbledore leaned back, trying not to smile. "What do I need to buy your help?"
"A field trip."
"A… field trip?"
"I want to take my kids off of school grounds," Harry said. "There's only so much I can teach from books. At some point, it's easier if I can show them."
"Any other year, and I would grant that request in an instant," Dumbledore said. "Now… I'm not sure if I can."
"You can," said Harry. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But if it's you, you can pull it off."
As he pondered Harry's request, Dumbledore's hands had stopped moving through his beard. Slowly, they started to move again, getting faster with each passing second.
"Very well," Dumbledore extended his hand. "I will 'work my magic,' if you will."
Harry shook on it.
"And I'll bring back your French headmistress. We can't let the Stinkinitus go to waste, after all."
O-O-O
That night, at such a late hour that Harry was already in bed, someone knocked on his door. He hoped and half-expected it to be Professor Vector or Sinistra. Instead, he was treated to a much worse view.
"We have matters to discuss," said Professor Snape, his arms crossed.
Harry almost shut the door.
"What do you want?"
Snape looked either direction, then raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
"Important matters," he said. "The kind that only I am privy to. You can understand such subtlety, no? A hallway is not secure enough. Hogwarts has been infested with foreign ears."
Harry wasn't moved. "I'm not in the habit of letting people who tried to kill me inside of my room."
"I've never even pointed my wand at you."
"You just let slip where I'd be so that others could do it for you."
"Nothing was supposed to be lethal!" Snape snapped. "If things went as planned—"
"Meaning if I let your friends get to my students."
Snape looked livid, but just as quickly it all disappeared. His eyes turned glassy. Harry hated watching others use Occlumency. It was inhuman to see someone's emotions clear like a cloud on a summer day.
"We're getting nowhere with this," Snape said. "I made mistakes in regard to you. It stemmed from a series of misjudgements. I'm here now to put us on the right track going forward. Surely, you can at least allow that much."
By Snape's standards, that was nearly an apology. Unfortunately, like everything else about the man, it was in the most insufferable form Harry could imagine. After five seconds of standing still, he stepped aside.
Harry's room wasn't really decorated for guests, but there was a table he used to work on papers late at night from time to time. Snape sat down, but there was only one chair, so Harry settled on the edge of the bed.
"Let's get to the point," Harry said. "I don't want to drag this out."
Apparently, Snape was of the same mind.
"How many Death Eaters can you safely handle at once?"
Harry regarded him.
"Depends on who they are," Harry said. "Bellatrix with help would be a handful. If it's the rest of the inner circle, then even six would be dangerous. But if they're all just average, I'd say ten."
Snape nodded. He didn't bat an eye at the claim that ten adult wizards were no threat.
"The Dark Lord has heard that the Order is paying attention to the giants."
"Because you told him."
"Because I told him," Snape said. "At the moment, his forces outnumber ours by a dangerous amount. We must begin lessening them. I will advise him to send additional forces to the giant enclave. I trust that you understand what your role will be?"
Harry crossed his arms. "To kill them off."
"Precisely." Snape paused. "That had best not be an issue. Your track record has been spotty. At times, merciful. At other times… Well, Greyback did not find a weak opponent."
"I'll handle it. If you uphold your end," Harry said. "But I have a question. What changed?"
"I assume you're referring to why I'm approaching you this way," said Snape. "It's quite simple. I thought you were a useless fool. As it turns out, you're a useful one. Our personal relationship does not matter. I need the Dark Lord dead, and you are useful to making that happen."
Harry shook his head, a nasty smile forming. "The things you do for Lily Potter."
"Do not presume to know me," Snape said without a lick of anger.
"She'd be really proud of you sicking Dark Wizards on a bunch of Muggle-borns."
"Do not," Snape said, this time with rising heat, "presume to know me. You cannot fathom the task I have been given. If I give the Dark Lord nothing, it is my head that will be removed from its shoulders."
Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying, A tragedy.
"And if you lose me, you lose your only spy." Snape was decently worked up; you could tell by how fast he was talking. "Preventable attacks will lead to deaths. Missions will end in disaster. The Order will lose the step ahead that they've previously been, and you will all be picked off one at a time. A few Muggle-borns being made into examples is hardly a steep price for that. No one was to die— the damage would not have even been permanent. And if it convinced them not to enter this world, that could even be considered a mercy."
For a moment, Harry didn't say anything. Finally, he said, "I loathe you."
"You're far from the first," Snape said. "I trust that you will not allow something so useless to hamper our practical relationship."
Unfortunately, he was correct.
O-O-O
The following morning, Harry rose before the crack of dawn. He collected all the things he was bringing into a small pouch with the help of a liberal number of shrinking charms.
He then collected a second pouch, this one much smaller, and opened a drawer of his desk. When he pulled out Voldemort's Horcrux, the ring whispered sweet enticements in his ears. It promised power, satisfaction, a cleared conscience—
Harry threw it in the second pouch and stashed that deep inside a hidden pocket on his pants.
After that, he headed out onto the castle grounds, sneaking to avoid the few people roaming Hogwarts' halls at such an early hour. It was cold and cloudy outside; picturesque Scottish weather. Harry walked across the grounds, trampling wet grass until he reached a hut with a towering door.
Hagrid was already outside. Harry could feel him before he turned the corner. The big guy was pacing, sending tremors into the nearby ground.
With him were two much younger people. Harry looked at Bill Weasley's handsome face and felt a sense of warmth. His cheeks and brow were unmarred by the nasty scars Harry was used to seeing, and they would stay that way. Fenrir Greyback could no longer hurt him.
Bill was leaning on the fence of Hagrid's garden. His arms were crossed as he tried (and failed) to not look cold. Next to him, a gorgeous young blond woman was wrapped in a warm cloak that was obviously a few sizes too big. Harry could tell at a single glance that she'd gotten it from the wizard next to her.
It was strange seeing Bill and Fleur at this time. He knew them as a married couple. As parents. But now, he wasn't sure they were even dating yet. There was clearly something there, given the proximity between them and Bill's loaned cloak, but there was an awkwardness too, like they weren't quite sure how to act yet. It made Harry want to walk over and ruffle their hair like children.
Alas, he was here for work. When Hagrid saw him, the half-giant quit pacing and lumbered forward.
"Harry! 'M so glad ter see yeh! Yeh've got ter bring 'er home yeh hear?"
Hagrid was so distraught that he grabbed onto Harry's shoulders. What was meant to be a gentle shake nearly gave Harry whiplash.
"You mean Madame Maxime, right?" Harry asked, hastily grabbing Hagrid's fingers and extricating himself.
"That is correct," Fleur said.
Her accent was thicker than Harry was used to. This was back when she was first learning English, and it reminded him how far she'd come. She looked imploringly at him, and in the face of those beautiful blue eyes Harry felt compelled to make all her dreams come true— until he clenched his jaw and fought down the passive effects of her allure.
"I do not know you, but Dumbledore spoke most highly of your skills," Fleur said. "You must succeed. The headmistress is beloved by all who graduate from Beauxbatons. She was like a second mother to me. If she does not return, an entire country will mourn."
"She's jus' perfect!" Hagrid moaned. "I'd go m'self, but Dumbledore can' send the both o' us at the same time."
Bill finally stepped forward. Out of the three he was the calmest, so he handled the briefing. "We've got a portkey ready that will take you all the way to Minsk. It wasn't easy getting an international one under the table, but we've got some help this time. When you get to the city, we've got a contact there to point you in the right direction. Here's the Portkey, by the way. It's programmed to go off in five minutes."
Bill handed over a slightly-moist Muggle baseball cap.
"Madame Maxime is the closest friend that my mother has," Fleur confessed. "The headmistress has been there for her through even the most difficult times. If anything has happened to her…"
Bill put his arm around her, pulling Fleur close as she let out a sob. Hagrid started to cry as well. He blew his nose on his sleeve, dislodging a thick bogey that he was too distraught to wipe off.
"Goo' luck, Harry!"
Too overcome with emotion to watch any longer, Hagrid lumbered back to his hut. He must've gone back to pacing once he was inside, because Harry could feel the ground start to shake again.
"Listen," Bill said when he was gone. "I didn't want to say anything around Hagrid because I didn't want to worry him, but will one person really be enough? I'm not trying to insult you, it's just…" He scratched the back of his head.
Harry smiled to show he wasn't offended. "If the headmaster trusts me, I'll get the job done."
Fleur grabbed his hand with both of her own. "You'll really bring her back?"
Her blue eyes were so wide and shiny. Harry hesitated, picking his words carefully.
"I'll do everything that I can," he promised.
He'd love to say that he would bring her back just fine, but sometimes, an excess of hope could be just as damaging as a lack of it. He didn't know what he'd arrive to find. Bill seemed to understand. He pulled his girlfriend away, ushering her back toward the fence.
"The Portkey will be activating soon," he warned.
Harry nodded. He quickly checked that his minimal supplies were still on his person, then looked up.
"You should leave the school grounds as soon as I'm gone," Harry said. "Umbridge and the ministry are on high-alert right now. They'll probably arrest you with no questions asked if they catch you."
Bill nodded. Harry noticed that he started to scan his surroundings after the warning, looking almost as paranoid as Moody. Harry sensed the beginnings of a magical tug and straightened his back.
"I'm off," he said.
"Good lu—"
The last quarter of Bill's farewell was interrupted by the sickening sensation of Portkey travel. The international kind were the worst. Instead of one instant of nausea, it was an almost minute-long affair.
Harry collapsed to his knees when he landed. In Eastern Europe instead of an unholy hour it was just early morning. There was ice underneath his boots, and small piles of snow had been shoveled off of the nearby road. Cars drove past the cobblestone sidewalk he was on, their headlights cutting through the morning's dimness. Harry's breath wafted up as a cloud in front of his eyes, the cold biting into his palms, which he'd placed down to stabilize himself as he landed.
"I dearly 'ope that your skill with a wand eexceeds your grace with Portkeys."
A white-gloved hand appeared in Harry's face. He tilted his neck back, taking his first look at the Order's contact he was supposed to be working with, and temporarily forgot how to breathe. For the second time that morning he had snap the effects of a part-veela's allure, although this one was twice as strong as Fleur's innocent plea.
Smiling wryly, Harry accepted the hand and let her pull him up.
Bill told him that there would be an ally in Minsk to help get him settled. Fleur told him that Madame Maxime was her mother's best friend. They just never mentioned that those two things were related.
"Eez zere something on my face?" asked Appoline Delacour, bundled in a fur-lined parka.
"Not at all," Harry said. "Now, I hear there's a giant colony you're supposed to be pointing me towards?"