Harry felt three vibrations on his lightning-bolt ring. He cursed.
The pensieve had been so tempting. He could watch some important memories and give Dumbledore a perfect red-herring reason for a break-in. It was only when he'd entered that he'd spotted the obvious drawback. You couldn't leave in a hurry.
He watched, frustrated, as a younger Trelawney fumbled her way through an interview. She stiffened and spoke the fateful words that condemned him to a life that could never be normal. He knew all this already of course. Voldemort had learned the contents of the prophecy, which is why he'd been happily left in Azkaban. But he'd never seen the original. As far as he knew, only Dumbledore had.
The foggy room faded. He felt himself yanked out of the pensieve, and thrown back into the headmaster's office.
Harry didn't bother to look around. He cast a room-wide, overpowered tergeo cleaning charm, and lunged for the door.
The floo flared green.
His heart stopped. He flung open the door.
The headmaster stepped out.
His heart pounded. He leapt though the opening.
A bolt of red slammed into the door behind him.
The stairs were before him. He jumped down them, three at a time, not trusting himself to fly, lest he crash into the curved wall. The gargoyle blocked his escape. The security system dialled him in, and activated, but it cost him precious seconds. Another bolt of red smashed into where he'd been only a split second before.
How the hell?
He ran into the hallway, careful to keep removing his scent as he went.
Halfway down the passageway, his pursuer stepped out.
The suits of armour immediately tried to grab him.
He dodged.
A terrible realisation settled over him, seeping into his veins, freezing his blood. Somehow, the headmaster could detect him. He knew where he was.
Shit. Now he dare not fly at all.
"Come now, Lord Slytherin," a genial voice called from behind him, "is all this necessary?"
He continued running. The voice also continued, never seeming to get further away.
"I mean, we all want the same things, I'm sure."
He bolted onto the grand staircase and took the first staircase available.
"And there is so much good we could do if we put aside our small differences."
How the hell was the bastard following him? He made to jump through the first window he could see. The shutters slammed shut.
"Is all this cloak and dagger nonsense really needed?"
He was being shepherded away from the towers. He needed to get off the path that led to the dungeons. He'd be trapped there. He dived through the next tapestry.
"You want stability in the wizarding world, that much is obvious."
He screeched to a halt. The voice was in front of him.
"Don't you think it would make more sense to work together with those who share your ambitions?"
He shot out a wordless homenum revelio. Dumbledore was still behind him.
"It's called ventriloquism, Lord Slytherin. Can be very amusing at dull parties."
He wanted to brain himself on the wall. The old man could sense magic! Just like he could. Duh! No wonder the bastard could follow him. He'd been casting cleaning charms every half-dozen steps. He might as well have been sending out a beacon announcing himself.
"Ah, I see you've decided to be reasonable."
He ran.
A sigh. "Or not."
He couldn't stop using the cleaning charms. That would be brain-dead stupid. But he had to get away. He arrived at the steep-climb staircase to the astronomy tower.
Two statues lowered their lances, baring his path. He wordlessly blasted them apart. Several powerful spells splashed against his rear shields.
"There are forces at work in the world, Lord Slytherin. Forces that could end up destroying the world you obviously care for."
You mean me. Harry forced down the impulse to swear at the fucker as he passed the fourth floor landing.
"And there are old threats too, threats considered past that could once more raise their ugly heads."
He reached the top of the tower and made for the edge.
"And your betrothed will be entering Hogwarts this year. There are many dangers she might face. Wouldn't it be better to work together?"
Harry stopped dead on the edge of the tower. All the time he'd spent with the full-of-life witch flashed through his head. He saw red. How dare he? How DARE he? He normally kept his magic under tight control. Now, it flared, overwhelming the area with pure power. He turned.
The disillusioned figure of the headmaster shimmered into being by the door. Dumbledore sighed; his shoulders drooped. "That wasn't supposed to be a threat, Lord Slytherin."
Barely controlling his rage, Harry reached into his pocket, retrieved his tiny flying-with-Ginny-broomstick, and un-shrunk it. The broom seemed to hang in the air.
Dumbledore took a step forward, holding out both empty hands in a gesture of peace. "I don't know why you distrust me so. I mean you no ill will. I hope one day, we can work together."
Harry leaned back, and dropped.
Albus Dumbledore slumped into his high-back chair and rubbed his temples.
After his unscheduled break had ended, the Wizengamot session had gone on for far too long. He'd only just got back, and discovered the extent of Lord Slytherin's machinations.
Lord Slytherin knew the prophecy. He was only the second to know it in its entirety. It was now even more critical that he find a way to bring the powerful Lord to his side.
He looked around his office. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. The man was thorough — he'd give him that. He couldn't think of a single way to pin the break-in on him. No fingerprints, no smells, no memories. The only thing he had was the lack of an identification ward record. He doubted Amelia Bones would accept a proof-by-lack-of-proof argument.
The man had walked in like he owned the place, done what he wanted, and who knew what else. Then left.
He reached into a drawer, and withdrew a stack of parchments. Each one was as dust-free as the rest of his office. He flipped through them. Giant dog, chess set, flying keys… all useless now. All compromised.
He sighed.
Add to that, there was a powerful wizard running around who could breeze through Hogwarts security, and he was faced with little choice.
The protections surrounding the stone would have to be re-thought and beefed up. Beefed up, a lot.
.
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