Chapter Seven: All Hallows Eve
The joke shop echoed with special, eerie music and noises as Harish sat at the counter, waiting for hours to end. While he did so, he read from the enormous book usually kept in their back room. All of the assistants had already gone home, so it was just him and the twins, who were tampering with cackling jack-o-lanterns.
A vein ticked in Harish's face as he was continually distracted by the glow of different colors.
"Can't you find something better to do?" he asked after giving up.
"Why can't we just close shop for the day?" Fred asked.
"I doubt anyone else will be coming by once the sun sets," George added.
Harish sighed dramatically as he slipped a bookmark into the page and slammed the book shut. Then, he made his way over to the door and flipped over the sign to where it read 'closed' from the outside. He waved his wand, causing the door to lock and the blinds to come down, covering the windows.
"Come on, then," he sighed.
He led them into their back room and went into the secret chamber. There, on one of the tables, was a cauldron, ready and waiting for them. Harish slapped the book onto the table and opened it back to the page he had been reading minutes before. The twins went and pulled bags and bottles of ingredients out of a cupboard and set them on the table as well.
Instantly, the three set to working, cutting up roots and crushing substances into powder. Harish lit a fire underneath the cauldron and began the potion by pouring the essence of moonlight poison into the cauldron.
Next, he added rosemary leaves and gurdy roots. He stirred clockwise until the potion turned silver and then turned the heat under the cauldron down to let the potion simmer. Finally, he set an alarm to go off at midnight so that he would be able to set the cauldron in the moonlight.
They had taken the first step to finding Jugson—and in turn, whoever was behind the attacks on Harish that had taken place in his sixth year.
LINE-BREAK
The Dark Lord sat in his high-backed chair in the meeting room, drumming his fingers on the armrests. To his right stood Lucius, and Bellatrix was to his left. All of the Death Eaters were there except one person, who they were waiting on—Severus Snape.
Finally, there was a crack and Snape appeared, immediately dropping into a bow.
"Forgive me, my lord, for my tardiness," Snape droned. "I had to receive permission from Dumbledore so as to seem that I still owe my allegiance to him."
"No matter," Voldemort replied in his usual high, cold voice. "I trust that you have done as instructed?"
"Yes, my lord," Snape replied. "I have discovered all of the wards that protect Hogwarts." He pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes with a flourish and it floated to Voldemort, who sat back in his chair reading through them.
"Very well," he said, rolling the parchment up and storing it in his own robes. "Now, about the Ministry. Have you all done as I instructed?"
The room echoed with murmurs of, "Yes, my lord," and "It has been done, my lord."
Voldemort's mouth curled into a smile and he said, "I have set for a time for our little excursion. We will do it in the summer. No one will be suspecting a thing."
"Excuse me for asking, Father," Harish's voice sounded from the back of the room, receiving some stares, "but what are you planning to do once the Ministry is yours?"
"That is my business," Voldemort replied shortly.
Harish visibly wilted and Voldemort felt a twinge of regret, but he knew he could not divulge his entire plan in front of his Death Eaters. He did not quite know himself what all he was going to do—he had been fighting for so long that the thought of being in control was very odd indeed.
Of course, the first step would be to secure a new Minister—one that sided with Voldemort's views on the Wizarding World. But beyond that, he was not entirely sure what he would do with the Ministry. Before he thought about that, he intended on getting rid of Dumbledore.
The old man had been a thorn in his side ever since his integration into Wizarding society. He knew that Dumbledore had been suspicious of him and had twisted views of him since the day they met—he had failed to understand that his prizes were not that of a bully, but of a boy who tried his hardest to stay in charge of peers that bullied him.
And that was not even to mention the fact that Dumbledore had suspected him outright during the time that the Chamber of Secrets was open. Harish had told him how Dumbledore had reacted to the diary—wondering how Voldemort could be behind the attacks—and did not seem satisfied when Harish told him that it had been a demon all along.
But it was no matter now, for Voldemort knew that despite all the trouble Dumbledore had caused, he would be gone soon. And in leaving the mortal plane he would be doing Voldemort a single, and very great, favour.
Voldemort gleefully relished at this thought, and only paid enough attention to the rest of the meeting to boss more of his Death Eaters around.
LINE-BREAK
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, sucking on a lemon drop. He had to admit that things were not going quite as planned. The Longbottom boy was turning out not as she should have at all—he was not the mindless saviour that would kill himself to defeat Voldemort. On the contrary, he had de-friended Ron and allied himself with Voldemort's son of all people.
That was another area that frustrated him. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? The boy had been going to school there for six years before he discovered that he was the son of Lord Voldemort. During those six years he had been very similar to his adoptive "father".
He was the perfect student, capturing the hearts of teachers and peers. Of course, there were the pranks that set him apart from his father, but Severus had mentioned a few odd instances as they occurred that involved several older Slytherins being sent to the hospital wing. The boy also seemed to be controlling and was the unofficial leader of Slytherin, and had a following of students that even included other houses.
It was a wonder he had not automatically connected the dots after this behaviour, but it had taken him until the Dark Lord had returned, forgone his alias of Anata Blake. Dumbledore was frankly quite glad that the cretin, Harish Blake, had left Hogwarts. In his wake, all troubles seemed to have left Hogwarts. There was no happenings with the Chamber of Secrets, no maniac trying to hunt the boy down, no disguised, rogue Death Eater trying to have him killed in a tournament, and no Ministry workers trying to silence him. All was calm, and it was even a bit unnerving.
Dumbledore sighed as his thoughts turned to the Longbottom boy once again. More specifically, he thought of the prophecy. It was said that a boy would be born at the end of July that had the power to defeat the Dark Lord. Initially, both Dumbledore and Voldemort had thought it was Harry Potter. This was proved wrong when the boy was killed by the Dark Lord.
Then, he had thought that the Chosen One was Neville, as he was the only boy left that fit the proper description. His parents had defied Voldemort three times, and he was born at the end of July. But despite this, the boy had proved to be a failure of a saviour. From the first day of Hogwarts, he had been stupid and unable to perform the simplest spells. As he grew and became a better wizard, Dumbledore had begun to hope that perhaps he would be powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord after all, but his hope was lost when the boy switched sides in the war.
Dumbledore groaned in frustration and rubbed his throbbing temples. If only Lily's sacrifice had worked. Then, perhaps, he might have had a saviour worth cultivating.