Chapter 42
CASSIUS BLACK
He had scoured through nearly every book, every tome in the Black Family library, yet he had yet to come up with an explanation for the way the Horcruxes had reacted. The Black Family library was one of the most extensive libraries in the Wizarding World, and for it to lack any material on this meant that any search otherwise would also be useless.
He was in uncharted territory.
"Damn it all," he cursed as he closed the book he had been reading and threw it at the table in front of him, his frustrations soaring as he found himself all alone and tired.
The attack during the World Cup had brought about a good and much-needed change in the Wizarding World, yet it had caused much damage as well. He had tried to push his father away from the attack, trying to preserve what little semblance of family he had.
But he had failed, and now the Malfoy name was mud. His father, a captive prisoner and the past allies of the Malfoys, had all turned against them as they sought revenge against their family, putting his mother's and Draco's lives at risk.
And then there was the entire matter with Hermione, and the less he thought of the better, as he shook his head and glanced towards the copy of the Prophet splattered across the table, a recent issue having a moving photo of him and Harry splattered on the front page along with a slew of headlines.
Though of the entire issue, his eyes remained fixed on three things: the picture of Harry and the two Headlines underneath it.
THE MERCIFUL BOY-WHO-LIVED! HARRY POTTER WANTS MALFOY SHOWN MERCY! DESIRES A MEETING WITH THE VERY MAN WHO TRIED TO KILL HIM!
By Rita Skeeter
THE TRAGIC LIFE OF BOY-WHO-LIVED! WHO IS TO BLAME!
By Jon Stewart
The Harry in these photographs was far different than the Harry he knew. The one everyone knew, and truly, he would not have cared at all, yet the timing of this change made it all rather suspicious.
But this week had made one thing clear. Cassius was going to need some help in this matter. The stakes were simply too high.
And as he sat there contemplating his next move, suddenly he felt the door open. His head snapped to the side as he saw that it was the very boy occupying his thoughts in flesh, coming to the library.
"Harry," Cassius greeted, raising a brow for both of them had kept each other at some distance, and so it was a bit strange for him to come to the library. A place he had not visited once during his stay.
"What brings you here?" he asked as the boy entered the library, and one thought from him, and all the texts and tomes in the room became inaccessible to him, as Harry smiled and shrugged.
"Nothing, I just wanted to know what's been keeping you so busy," and Cassius raised a brow.
"Nothing, just homework," and Harry held back a scoff as he began to saunter around the room.
"It truly is quite vast," he marvelled, and each second he spent in his presence, Cassius's doubts continued to grow and fester that the boy in front of him was not really Harry Potter.
"So, the trial is tomorrow, right?" and Cassius nodded.
"Yes, it is," and if the rumors were true, Harry was going to meet his father tomorrow as well.
"Do you intend to go?" and Cassius did not want to answer.
"I do," he had no choice, as Harry failed to pull out one of the books, and turned to look at him strangely.
"The books can only be read by a member of the Black family," Cassius lied, and if he knew that Cassius was lying, it did not show, as he simply smiled and pulled back his hand.
"I see," and then he stared him squarely in the face, before he began to walk towards the door. His next whisper sent a chill down his spine.
"Well, you know you resemble him quite a lot," and Cassius called back.
"Who?" he asked, just as Harry was about to leave.
"Who do I resemble?" he asked again, as Harry turned his neck to look at him.
"Sirius's younger brother," and that was it, as Cassius's heart sank as he pulled his hand behind his back, and took out his wand.
"And how could you know that?" Harry frowned, acting oblivious.
"I saw a picture of him," and he was lying. Cassius was sure that he was lying.
"How else would I know about him?" and given that he had been asked so many questions, Cassius asked one of his own.
"You have changed quite a lot, Harry, haven't you? Any specific reason?" and in that moment, Harry gave him a smile, one that had little malice in it as he answered.
"Of course, I now finally know what it means to be loved...."
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ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
This had become routine for him at this point. Despite his hopes to the contrary, with the start of term but a few days later, Albus found himself in search of someone to take the DADA professor role.
He had spent much of the time, preoccupied with his other jobs, and was not proud of the fact that this important and cardinal duty had been pushed back so much. But now his proposed candidate was here, sitting in front of him as he had many times when he had been a student at this school himself.
"Me! A teacher!" and Sirius seemed appalled, much like Minerve had been when he had first proposed the idea. But unlike them both, he was quite optimistic about his choice.
"Yes," he repeated with a smile, as Sirius took a second to shake of the surprise.
"You have practical experience of being an Auror and, as far as I am aware, are without a job currently," though that was more by choice.
"I believe you would make an excellent teacher," and he really did believe that.
"I don't know Headmaster, I just cannot imagine myself in that place," and few ever did.
"Well, if you say 'yes' you will have quite a few days to do that," and he was really hoping that he would agree, because the truth was, as a consequence of him pushing this decision so far, he was honestly out of options.
"But I know nothing about teaching. I don't have a plan for the lessons, or anything of the sort," and he had already thought of that, as he reached into his drawer and a file flew out, and settled right in front of the young man.
"These are Remus's lesson plans. The one's he used last year. Minerva has made a few improvements to them. Otherwise, they were very well thought out. You could simply use them, make a few changes of your own, and I believe that would serve you well," and Sirius opened the file and began to skim over it.
"Minerva? Does she know that you are offering me a job as a teacher?" he asked, smirking, and he nodded.
"She knows," and Albus saw him skimming over the file, and he seemed half convinced.
"Well, I am not asking you to take up the position permanently," he added, though he hoped otherwise.
"But for this year only. Come and teach; I am certain that you, being a former Auror and all, would be able to do a better job than most of our previous professors here," Sirius put down the file and rubbed his chin.
"Sure, I will give it a try. It's not as if I have anything better to do," and Albus smiled, relieved that this heavy burden was off of him once again as he stood up and shook his head.
"Good. The term starts in a few days, Minerva and I will be here to help in case you need it all," and Sirius smiled.
"Thanks, Albus...."
.
.
.
With that done, he moved on to the other dozen duties and pending tasks. With Hogwarts serving as the host for the Tri-Wizard tournament this year, he had much more to do than in the usual year.
Yet even amidst it all, his mind continued to return to the scene he had witnessed at the Department of Mysteries. The broken prophecy and the changes he had observed in Harry continued to haunt his thoughts.
He knew that Lily's magic protected Harry against Voldemort, but he had not been attacked by Voldemort. He had been attacked by Lucius, and yet he had survived.
And nothing survived the Killing Curse. Not until it could not be killed.
So, he wondered if the person who had woken up was truly Harry. Or was it something else? Something far more sinister.
He had always had a suspicion about how Voldemort had obtained his immortality. A suspicion which had been confirmed just a few years ago, during Harry's second year when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened once more.
Dumbledore knew of only one wizard who could pull off such a thing, yet the problem was that the issue had resolved itself on its own, requiring no intervention from him. But it had now dampened his search, and the answer he had come to had not alleviated his worries at all.
"Horcruxes," and just taking that name, made his magic shiver for this was no ordinary magic. Even amidst the art of Dark Magic, this one was absolutely reviled. A magic so abhorred that its mention was a taboo amongst the Wizards and Witches.
Yet, it was the only explanation he had for all this. Yet he had no way of confirming his suspicion.
Feeling the inner turmoil eating away at him, Fawkes began to sing, soothing himself and his mind as Albus smiled at the majestic creature.
"Thank you," he whispered as a wave of calm and serenity passed over him, and the magic of the phoenix continued to fascinate him to this day.
"Do you think I am overthinking it all?" he whispered, and he was prone to this. Yet he wondered if it was all just overthinking, or if his mind was trying to caution him against making a great mistake.
"Or is it all really as I fear it to be?"
And just as he sat there, letting his mind wander, an owl flew in through the window, and flew a circle around his head before vanishing out the same window it had flown in through, as Albus raised a brow.
"A letter, at this hour," he whispered, looking at the piece of paper in front of him, and he slowly reached for it, and it was a regular letter, having only a simple page inside it, with but one line printed on it using a Muggle Printer.
~I believe it is time for us to meet~
And he frowned, and the sender had mentioned no name, hinting that they knew that Albus knew of their identity. And he found it strange that they had reached out to him like this. That he had reached out to him like this.
And after raking his mind, he could think of but one reason.
"Could it be...."
0000
And a despondent Lucius Malfoy sat in his cell, waiting to be taken to his trial. His entire right arm had been burnt, and even the best healers remained helpless to cure him. Not that it would matter given that he would either be dead soon, or would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.
The attack had been successful, his men had been able to neutralise the Ministry's aurors quickly yet despite it all, the entire thing had unravelled itself because of one action. One spell.
And Lucius wondered if the outcome would have been different if Potter had not simply pushed himself in between his spell and that wretched mud-blood girl.
There was a knock on his door, and he frowned as the door opened and an Auror walked in speaking up.
"You have a visitor," and he moved to the side, and in walked a face he had not expected at all. The boy had changed since the last time he had seen him, and his glasses had shifted. But the change went beyond simple glasses and hair.
No, his very demeanor was different.
"Harry Potter," he asked, and the boy smiled, as the Auror gave him a nod.
"I will be just outside..." and the boy nodded, and came and sat down opposite to him.
"How are you still alive?"
"Ahh, but that is the question, is it not?" he began, making him frown.
"Am I really still alive? Am I really Harry Potter? Or am I something else?" and those eyes shifted, as he took of his glasses as Lucius felt an all too familiar burning on his burnt arm, just where the Dark Mark had been before.
"Something different..." and the eyes shifted in color, turning into that all too familiar red as Lucius fell to his knees.
"My Lord..."
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