Chapter Ten: In Which Dumbledore Takes Control
Once again Albus Dumbledore sat in his office thinking. He was thinking particularly about Lord Voldemort. The headmaster wondered if Voldemort was rising or if Death Eater activity had just gone up for another reason. Pondering on this, suddenly the old wizard had a thought. Why wait to see if it was Voldemort? All he needed to do was lure to dark lord out into the open to find out. If he really was rising once again, he would find some way to catch onto the bait. The question was…what should he use as bait?
Dumbledore sat thinking still, wondering what the dark lord would need. If he was floating somewhere disembodied, he would want a body! And to get a body….Yes, Dumbledore knew exactly what he needed to do now. He picked up his quill and began writing a letter to an old friend.
DON'T-FALL-FOR-IT—HE'S-NOT-DISEMBODIED!
The headmaster was walking up a neat stone path towards a small little cottage. It was surrounded by fields and flowers. The cottage was white with sky blue shutters. It was picture perfect. As Dumbledore walked up the door opened and an older man greeted him, a woman standing behind him.
"You said you wanted to meet with us, Professor Dumbledore?" the old man asked.
"Yes, Nicholas, I have a matter I must discuss with you," Dumbledore replied. Nicholas Flamel stood to the side to let him enter their home. His wife, Perenelle Flamel left to put on a pot of tea.
"Now, what is this all about?" Flamel asked after he and Dumbledore were seated in the sitting room.
"I have received an omen that you might be in danger," Dumbledore replied, placing his words carefully.
"Danger?" Flamel parroted.
"Indeed. I believe that Voldemort is rising again, trying to find a way to recover his body. As we both know you own a particular object that could be used for that purpose."
"You mean the stone?"
"Yes. I can offer you protection for the stone. If it is not here, there will be no reason for Voldemort to attack you and your wife."
Flamel rubbed his brow thoughtfully and sighed. After a minute he said, "That stone has brought nothing but trouble for me. I would be glad for you to take it off of my hands for a while."
"Then, it is settled then!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "If you could please ship it to Gringotts, I will have it transported from there to Hogwarts. I will make sure to regularly ship you elixir."
Flamel nodded. "Thank you, I will have it shipped by the end of summer."
"Goodbye, old friend," Dumbledore replied before standing up and taking his leave.
Of course, unknown to them, Voldemort still had his body and would have no need for any object that could give it to him. But that wasn't all, trouble was brewing. Trouble that would cause both sides to suffer. And there was no way Dumbledore could prevent it.
UH-OH—DUN-DUN-DUN!
Neville had been disappointed when the holidays ended and he had been shipped back to his grandmother's house. He then would sit up in his room or in a window sill in order to avoid his grandmother and his great uncle. Ever since he had shown magic, Algie had taken to catching him off his guard to do something horrible to the boy.
On New Year's, the man had "accidently" shot a firework at his nephew. Luckily Neville had enough reflexes to jump out of the way. Then, in January, Neville had slipped on some ice that had mysteriously appeared underneath his feet. Only then had he turned around to see his uncle's face peering out a window, snickering at him. The boy had no idea why his uncle was tormenting him, but he couldn't wait until fall so that he could get away from the man.
The only time Neville would leave his room was when his grandmother would call him down so that they could visit his parents in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. When he was a baby his parents had been tortured into insanity by a couple of Death Eaters. That was the day after the Potters had died.
Ever since then, the boy would go to visit his parents every now and then. It was sad though, because they couldn't even remember who he was. Still, he thought that his mother improved some when he came to visit. On this particular day, Neville was sitting up in his bedroom, reading a book on magical plants when he heard his grandmother call, "Neville, come down here! We are due at St. Mungo's in five minutes!"
"Coming Gran!" he shouted back, gathering up his cloak and lacing up his shoes. Then, he bounded down the stairs two at a time and trotted into the sitting room.
There he was met by his grandmother, who was standing by the fireplace with her arm bent, a gesture for him to take hold. He did so as she was clucking disapprovingly at him, and then they apparated to the hospital.
Once there he glanced around. To most people, the sight of St. Mungo's would be a strange one indeed, but he had been there so many times he hardly took note of it. There were all kinds of witches and wizards milling about in the reception area. There were healers dressed in long, mint green robes. There were people with arms sprouting out their heads, there was a red-faced woman fanning herself with some paper who kept steaming through her ears, and a man nursing a hand that looked like it was bitten by some creature, which had swollen to the size of a quaffle.
The moment they got there, they edged around the people waiting at the front desk and headed for the fourth floor. That was where people who suffered from spell damage were sent. The Longbottoms were in the ward that housed permanent residents. Along with them was a witch who sported a rather furry head. She had come last year, though how she ended up half-dog Neville never found out. Even as they walked up to the door they heard her barks.
Neville straightened his robes before a kind-faced witch opened the door.
"Ah," she said. "Here to see the Longbottoms?" Neville nodded. "They've improved this past week. Alice keeps looking at that picture of Neville." With that she unlocked the door and let them in. Inside the ward were pictures and letters plastered on the wall above the dog-woman. There were flowery curtains set up around Neville's parents' beds.
Neville had pictures of his parents from when they were aurors. He looked a lot like his mum; they both had plump, round faces. The boy had the same cheerful expression and build from his dad. The years hadn't been kind to them, however. Alice's round, cheerful face was now long, thin and worn. Her thick brown hair was now white and wispy. Frank wasn't any better. He was much thinner than he used to be and he would lie in his bed, muttering at the ceiling.
Neville sat down in a chair between their beds and began talking to them. He always told them everything about his life. The boy's hopes rose when he thought he saw his mother smile at him when he started talking. Today he was telling them about his new friend, Ron. He had just gotten to the point in telling them about the candy Ron gave him for Christmas when Alice started, looking as if she just remembered something.
She sat up a little and beckoned silently for Neville to come closer. He came forward and cupped his hands in front of him. She dropped a Drooble's Best Gum wrapper into his hands and he slipped it into his pocket, planning on add it to the collection of things his mother gave to him. After several hours and two more candy wrappers, Neville and his Gran left. Augusta shook her head sadly as he returned back to his bedroom and hung the wrappers on the wall above his desk.
POOR-NEVILLE—NOT-AUGUSTA-MIND-YOU
As February moved to April the castle was battered by heavy rains. It got so bad that the Quidditch match that took place on the fourth of February lasted really long, because neither Seeker could find the Snitch until it flew up Cedric Diggory's sleeve, causing Hufflepuff to win and putting Slytherin in the lead.
Finally the rain let up, but no one could enjoy the sunshine because work was piling up once again as the Easter holidays grew nearer. The trio had precious little time to do anything other than school work. Still, Harish found time to search for the Chamber and the twins found time to pull pranks somehow.
A week before the break Harish received a letter telling him to spend the holidays with Draco, though he didn't object. The boys couldn't wait until the break actually came, for then at least they wouldn't have work for another week and a half. Well, until Professor McGonagall burst their fantastical bubbles.
"—make sure you actually write this essay"—she shot the twins a look—"I expect to see it on my desk first thing on the twenty eighth."
"But Professor," Terrence Higgs said. "That's right after the holiday."
"Yes, it is," McGonagall replied simply.
"But the break starts tomorrow!" Adrian Pucey exclaimed looking quite horrified.
"Yes, and I'm sure you will spend the day starting your essay."
As class let out, everyone gathered their things together while they grumbled to each other. "I'm not doing it," George said.
"I was so looking forward to not having work!" Fred exclaimed.
"I'm just gonna do it all on the train ride to get it over with," Harish said as they walked out of the classroom.
"I guess…" the twins trailed off pathetically.
Harish shook his head. "Though one thing is for certain."
"What?"
"We at least get to enjoy sleeping in."
SLEEP—GLORIOUS-SLEEP!
Thorfinn Rowle walked through a dazzling bright room, stopping at a door. Creeping underneath it was eerie blue light. He grinned and opened the door slowly. The door revealed a tall room filled with shelves and shelves of glowing blue orbs. He glanced at one of the shelves where 53 glimmered in silver print. His breathing was fast as he whispered to himself, "Eighty four…eighty five…"
Finally he stopped at row ninety seven. He eagerly reached out a hand for a the small orb that sat on that shelf. On a label it said, S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter. Eager to please his master, he grabbed it…and emitted a loud scream. His hand felt as if it were on fire and slowly the pain spread up his arm and into his entire body. As he fell over on the ground his hand went limp and the prophesy rolled under the shelf, forgotten. He hardly even realized when aurors, unspeakables, and ministry officials all came in and herded him to a room for questioning. By the time they reached the Department of Mysteries, he had already gone insane.