After seeing the guests out, Harry wished his relatives good night and departed for his bedroom, his godfather's former room. The enormous four-poster bed, made by the house-elves, received the boy into its white, starched embrace and, after caressing him, quickly sent him to the realm of Morpheus.
Harry Potter's First Dream
The heavy wooden door opened, and an elderly, dignified gentleman looked at him with polite interest until recognition came.
"You?" he growled.
From the inner room, the visitor heard the patter of children's feet, and a five- or six-year-old boy with curious eyes and dark hair appeared from behind the gentleman. The child looked well-fed, well cared for, and deeply loved by his parents.
"Who are you?" he asked in a ringing child's voice. "Why did you make Grandfather angry?"
The visitor hesitated a little but decided to go all in:
"I am your elder brother, Thomas Marvolo Riddle," and, wishing to express everything that had festered inside him during all those years of deprivation and suffering, he snapped, "I am the heir of the family."
Suddenly, the elderly gentleman swung his hand and slapped the visitor loudly across the face, continuing to growl:
"Witch's spawn! How dare she name the vermin after me?"
The shouting drew the other people in the house—a man younger than the old gentleman, probably his son and therefore the visitor's father, and a beautiful young lady who grabbed the boy into her arms and disappeared behind the men's backs.
The visitor looked at the men, saw how much they resembled him, and refused to accept their unwillingness to acknowledge him, Thomas, as their son and grandson. He stepped across the threshold to enter the house, his ancestral home, but the old man shoved him backward with both hands so hard that he fell onto the stone porch and painfully bruised himself.
"Don't you dare!" the old man shouted. "Don't you dare come near our house. You are not welcome here!"
"Father?" Thomas looked at the second man, hoping to see at least something other than rejection in him.
But he found nothing. The younger man, his father, was grinding his teeth and looked ready to attack his unwanted son with his fists.
Rage and bitterness invaded his mind with the force of a tsunami. Savage hatred for these cold, cruel people filled his heart, and his hand reached for the wand in his pocket on its own. It was a good thing he had dealt with the Ministry's Trace back in winter; now he could fully repay his "family."
"Crucio!" he roared, pointing his wand at the old man. "Crucio!" The tip of the wand shifted slightly to the left and pointed at his "father." The two men fell to the floor, writhing, twisting, and screaming in pain. Behind them, the woman watched in stunned silence, pressing the child's face against her shoulder so that he would not see.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Thomas shouted, pointing his wand at the woman and child, and she fell flat on her back, striking the boy's head against the corner of a chest of drawers that had suddenly ended up in the worst possible place. The child jerked and went still, while a red stream spurted from his head. His mother lay motionless, unable to help her little son in any way.
Seeing what had happened, the men somehow managed to rise despite the unbearable pain and attempted to throw themselves at the visitor, but they were met by the green flash of the Killing Curse, and one after another they fell dead beside the woman.
"What vile bastards, Lord," Thomas said. "And you, madam, I bid farewell with this—Avada Kedavra!"
Then, stepping over the corpses, he entered the house and dragged them inside so that he could close the door. Energy released by the deaths of his relatives splashed around him, the kind most suitable for the ritual he had recently read about after speaking with Professor Slughorn and had decided to try someday. The ritual for creating a Horcrux. The circumstances could not have been more suitable; he could not allow the deaths of these creatures to go to waste!
Thomas looked around, searching for a suitable object to serve as the vessel of his first Horcrux, and his eyes stopped on a black pre-war diary, upon whose cover an inscription gleamed in gilded letters:
"Thomas Riddle's Diary."
End of the first dream.
"The diary!" Harry Potter shouted in his sleep and immediately woke up. He had to find his diary—the notebook belonging to his father into which he had placed the first fragment of his soul, making it his first anchor in the world of the living.
After replaying the dream several times, Harry began to doubt the correctness of his actions when he had been Thomas. Hatred was hatred, but was killing his relatives not too cruel? That was how convicts behaved when someone accidentally offended them—they struck without thinking with whatever came to hand. Human beasts. Had he really needed to sink so low? His father had abandoned him—he could have been punished, Crucio-Obliviate, and let him suffer from trembling legs for the rest of his life. His grandfather had rejected him—the same treatment would have sufficed. But why the woman, his stepmother? And his younger brother, who was only a child?
Savage regret overwhelmed the boy who called himself Harry Potter, although in reality only the shell was that boy. The one who lived inside was Tom Riddle, and now, lying among sheets that crackled with cleanliness, he felt filthy, guilty, and unworthy of forgiveness. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes, but he did not feel them as he mourned his wasted life, in which there had been nothing but bitter memories like this one.
Thus, regretting and crying, the boy sank back into sleep.
Harry Potter's Second Dream.
(The conversation is conducted in Parseltongue)
A filthy, decrepit old man writhes in the dirt and tries not to scream. The gloomy room, whose windows are covered by wooden shutters, is drowning in years of dust and reeks of rotting food scraps on the table, unwashed, filthy men, and moonshine. The second man, younger than the first, lies dead drunk on a bench by the window, perceiving nothing and snoring so loudly that the spider in the web above him trembles from the vibrations.
"I will not give it to you. It is mine, and until I die, no one will touch it. And why do you need it? So you can return it to your bitch of a mother?"
"Shut up, scum, or I'll kill you."
"You'll kill me, of course you will," the old man hisses, his little eyes gleaming maliciously in the gloom, "but then you'll rot in Azkaban for the rest of your life, Muggle spawn. That is exactly where you belong, pathetic half-blood."
Thomas points his wand and hisses in Parseltongue as well:
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The old man turns rigid, stretched straight as a string on the floor. Thomas approaches the other man and begins searching with disgust among the rags he is wearing for a wand. After finding it, he returns to the old man—his second grandfather—and says:
"Avada Kedavra."
He removes a heavy silver ring from the old man's ring finger. An entirely ordinary-looking stone is set into it. He puts it on the index finger of his left hand, looks at it, and then senses wild whirlwinds of magical energy around him.
"Why not?" he hisses to himself and begins drawing an incomplete pentagram in the dirt on the floor around Marvolo Gaunt.
His mother's brother, Morfin, snores on, sensing nothing in his drunken stupor.
End of the dream.
The dark-haired boy jumps out of bed and begins dressing frantically, whispering something under his breath.
"Dinky!" he calls, and the loyal elf immediately materializes before him, gazing at him with adoring eyes. "We need to go to Little Hangleton. I hid something there, and I must retrieve it."
"Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir."
With a soft pop, the two disappear from Grimmauld Place.
While awaiting the Supreme Warlock, the Wizengamot chamber quietly hummed, filled to capacity. The gallery was crowded with curious Ministry of Magic employees and everyone who had received a special named pass, which was forbidden to be handed over to other people who wished, but had not been invited, to attend the hearing in the case of Albus Dumbledore. Among those standing there were journalists from the media. Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet had arrived together with a wizarding photographer and glared contemptuously at the other members of the journalistic fraternity who had been granted permission to take photographs.
Amelia Bones, presiding over today's session, was already seated in her place opposite the amphitheater benches, to the left of the interrogation chair, sorting through her notes before the beginning of today's proceedings. Amelia's secretary was bored while awaiting the beginning of the scandal and lightly tapped a finger against a stack of white Muggle paper upon which he intended to record the minutes with a Quick-Writing Quill.
Finally, ten minutes late, the Supreme Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus PWB Dumbledore himself, deigned to appear in the chamber and float through it amid the folds of a magnificent blood-red satin robe to his seat on the right side of the interrogation chair. After sitting down, pompously grunting and arranging the folds of the extremely expensive satin without looking at anyone, he solemnly struck the gavel and announced in a hollow voice:
"Let this farce begin."
Madam Bones hesitated, wondering what exactly she should do—object to this rudeness or not. Then she decided that everyone would submit to the facts and began her speech.
"Esteemed Wizengamot, Ministry of Magic, ladies and gentlemen of the press, guests. At the previous court session, the circumstances surrounding the supposed death of Peter Pettigrew were investigated. Two charges had been brought against him—serving You-Know-Who and betraying the Potter couple to that same person, which led to their fatal end and left their young son Harry an orphan. As you will recall, a careful examination of the details of that sorrowful period indicated that Peter Pettigrew was NOT responsible for his actions and decisions, and you, esteemed members of the court, acquitted him. On the other hand, during the questioning of Mr. Pettigrew, certain doubts arose regarding the involvement of the Supreme Warlock of the Wizengamot, Professor Albus Dumbledore, in the events of that period. In order not to bring erroneous accusations, I made inquiries in the Legal Department of the DMLE. Under the laws of the Wizarding World currently in force, no citizen of the British Kingdom may be charged before indisputable and substantial evidence of guilt has been gathered. Therefore, I offer my apologies to the esteemed Professor Albus Dumbledore for the incorrectly formulated purpose of today's session and propose the following Agenda:
"Item one—Consideration of the case and removal of the charges against the late Sirius Orion Black, according to which he was accused of serving You-Know-Who and betraying James and Lily Potter to that same person.
"Item two—Consideration of the evidence gathered to date in the case of 'Halloween—1981,' the events that led to the deaths of the aforementioned Potter couple.
"Item three—Consideration of the living conditions of Harry James, the heir of the House of Potter who survived the Killing Curse, from the death of his parents until his enrollment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Item four—Notification of the Wizengamot regarding a change in its membership.
"Item five—Other matters.
"Those who agree with this Agenda, please vote with white light. Those opposed, with red."
The entire chamber erupted into chatter, for everyone had expected an entirely different opening speech at the beginning of the session, yet here there had not been a single word about the news being widely discussed throughout the Wizarding World concerning the clash between the Head of the DMLE and the Head of the Wizengamot! Then, one after another, little lights began to appear, and Amelia established at a glance that there was not a single red one among them.
Soundless fanfares announcing the beginning of battle solemnly blared inside her head, and a surge of adrenaline pounded in her ears.
With a gleam in her eyes, the Head of the DMLE opened the red folder into which she had placed the plan of today's actions that she had drawn up during the night and polished to perfection. The plan seemed to have worked—just look at how the Supreme Warlock, resplendent in red satin, was staring.
Although with this opponent, one never knew what to expect.
Albus Dumbledore was puzzled. He had prepared for a head-on attack, but it appeared there would instead be a long and thorough investigation whose conclusion he might not like. This put the old wizard on his guard, and he thought apprehensively that he might have to take urgent measures if matters reached a dead end. He had a reserve escape route that he had developed personally for himself, but he did not wish to reveal it so early before such a large and sharp-eyed audience.
The Supreme Warlock surveyed the full chamber attentively over his half-moon spectacles, with whose help he, the offspring of the most ordinary and unremarkable wizards, could see magical auras and energy flows. Thin ropes glowing red through those spectacles, connecting him, their master, to some of the people present in the chamber, pulsed slowly, bringing him fragments of magical energy from his slaves.
Everything seemed to be in order. If undesirable problems arose, he would drain the fools dry in order to save himself.
"Let us summarize the results of the previous session," Madam Bones, presiding over the hearing, was saying in the meantime. "Record this!" she ordered the secretary. "Peter Pettigrew did not go to You-Know-Who of his own accord, but on the orders of his school headmaster and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Professor Albus Dumbledore, supposedly to spy. Peter Pettigrew was made the Secret Keeper of the Potter family's residence, and the Fidelius Charm was cast by the same Professor Dumbledore. Mr. Pettigrew confessed—and this is recorded in the minutes of the previous session"—Madam Bones unrolled a long folio bearing the enormous glowing seal of the Wizengamot—"that he had been selected by Professor Dumbledore to grant his lord access to the Potter family at a certain moment. The minutes further state that You-Know-Who came to Godric's Hollow not to kill the Potter family, but to reconcile with them, and Peter Pettigrew knew of Lord... Voldemort's intentions. According to the testimony of Mr. Pettigrew, who was released from responsibility, we must make two decisions. The first is to reconsider the case of Sirius Orion Black, remove responsibility from him, and pay compensation to his heir for ten years in Azkaban. The second is to decide whether to investigate Professor Albus Dumbledore's involvement in Peter Pettigrew's 'service' to You-Know-Who and the subsequent deaths of the Potter couple."
Madam Bones placed a monocle before her right eye and looked anxiously at the red web leading to the Supreme Warlock. After her conversation with Harry Potter and his honest account of the changes in his vision following treatment by the school healer-witch Poppy Pomfrey and the aura sight that had awakened in him, she had begun looking more frequently through the artifact issued to her as Head of the DMLE, a monocle whose lens had been enchanted with aura sight. Amelia did not know how many of those present possessed means of seeing magical flows, but when she saw the calm behavior of several Wizengamot members and more than half the guests who were bound by red ropes, she concluded that these people lived in ignorance.
Removing the monocle from her eye, Madam Bones began searching among those present for a certain dark-haired, green-eyed boy beside Lady Augusta Longbottom, but he was not in the chamber. This fact raised the woman's blood pressure, and she wondered what she ought to do if Potter failed to appear at the session.
Then she noticed Lucius Malfoy raising his trademark silver cane before his eyes and peering attentively through the stone set in the head of the snake coiled around the cane.
"Aha," she thought, "some people have cleverly disguised their aura-sight artifacts."
Realizing that she had become too distracted, she looked at her notes and continued:
"Regarding the first item on the agenda—the consideration of the case of Sirius Orion Black—I give the floor to the secretary of the Wizengamot Archive, Miss Dolores Umbridge. Please, Miss Umbridge."
A short, plump witch dressed in the brown official robes of that institution took a place beside the session secretary. She had arrived empty-handed, which puzzled the members of the court and the guests.
"Ahem-ahem," she cleared her throat in embarrassment. "I must inform the esteemed Wizengamot that no case concerning Sirius Orion Black was found in the Archive for the year 1981. There is no folder under that name. I made inquiries and found such a folder in the Auror Office archive, which I was permitted to copy but not remove because I am not a member of their department. Allow me to read the only sheet I found in the folder bearing Black's name." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet folded into quarters, unfolded it, and began to read. "Ahem, ahem! Forgive me, I suffer from an incurable heart condition, and this is a cardiac cough.
"'Today, the first of November, 1981, in a Muggle district, amid the ruins of an entire street and the bodies of twelve Muggles, a squad of Aurors under the command of the Head of the Auror Office, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, detained and neutralized the criminal Sirius Orion Black, who was laughing like a madman and shouting, "I killed them! They are dead because of me!" After the criminal's arrest, the Head of the DMLE, Sir Bartemius Crouch, arrived at the scene and issued an order to send Black immediately to Azkaban for life imprisonment.
"'Subsequently, Sir Crouch provided an explanation for his decision. Professor Albus Dumbledore reported that the Potters had chosen Sirius Black as the Secret Keeper of the Fidelius Charm, which Professor Dumbledore himself had cast upon the Potters' home, and regretfully admitted that he had made a mistake regarding the young man whom he had considered the first and only Light wizard from the Dark House of Black, but who had turned out to be a follower of Lord Voldemort and likely his right-hand man, since he had agreed to betray his childhood friends to his master.
"'Connecting the facts—the statement of Dumbledore, holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Black's cries during his arrest that he was responsible for the Potters' deaths—Mr. B. Crouch conducted a summary trial and sent Black to prison.
"'Secretary of the Auror Office, Gordon Brockhull.'"
After reading the text, Miss Umbridge handed the sheet to the secretary and, after receiving a nod from Madam Bones, returned to her place in the chamber, where she sat down and her curly head immediately disappeared among the many seated wizards.
Waiting until the noise in the chamber diminished and failing to obtain silence, the presiding witch struck the table with her gavel to restore order.
"We shall hear the conclusion of Healer Dr. Stevens of St. Mungo's, who was appointed Sirius Black's attending physician."
A thin man hobbled to the hearing place with a slightly bouncing gait. He immediately began reading the patient's medical history, from which those present heard the most important facts. Sirius Black had not been a Death Eater—the Dark Mark of He-Who-Was-Not-Named had not been found on the patient's body, and everyone knew that the Dark Lord never failed to place his mark upon his servants. It was whispered that the mark had not merely been a communication system, but an umbilical cord through which the master drained his servants. Those sharing this unverified information laughed nervously among themselves and made sarcastic remarks.
The second fact, which had already begun to be forgotten, was that several hours before Black's death, the Supreme Warlock of the Wizengamot had arrived without the permission of the healers or the DMLE.
"For an interrogation!" he had roared at the healer-witches before isolating himself from everyone with Shield Charms.
After dismissing Dr. Stevens and hearing the noise rise again in the chamber, Amelia Bones struck the gavel and summarized in a firm voice:
"Taking into consideration Peter Pettigrew's statement that it was he, Pettigrew, who led his lord to the Potters while serving as the Fidelius Secret Keeper; the absence of an investigation, an interrogation of Sirius Black under Veritaserum, even a basic search for the Dark Mark upon his skin, a court proceeding, and a court decision against him; and the existence of only a note in the Auror Office archive stating that he had been sent to Azkaban, I propose that the esteemed Wizengamot issue the following ruling: the removal of all charges against Sirius Orion Black in connection with the events of that Halloween; an apology to his relatives and heir; the restoration of the form of address 'Sir' to Sirius Black, which shall pass to his heir; and the payment to Mr. Black's heir of compensation for the shameful decision to send him to prison for ten years without trial or investigation, at a rate of ten thousand Galleons for every year Mr. Black spent in Azkaban. Those who agree with this proposal should vote 'for' with white light and 'against' with red."
Striking the gavel again, Amelia waited to see how the members of the Wizengamot would dare to vote and whether any of them would light a red light. Thank Merlin, not a single fool was found among the wizards possessing the right to vote. This lifted the woman's spirits, and she crossed her fingers, praying that everything would continue in the same fashion.
"The court has ruled," she announced. "It removes all charges against Sir Sirius Orion Black and shall pay his heir the sum of one hundred thousand Galleons from the Ministry of Magic's vault. In connection with Mr. Bartemius Crouch's extrajudicial punishment, I propose that the Wizengamot strip him of the form of address 'Sir' and fine him twenty-five thousand Galleons. We vote—'for' with white light, 'against' with red." After waiting a minute, she summarized the result of the vote. "Adopted unanimously. We proceed to the second item on the agenda—the consideration of the evidence gathered to date in the case of 'Halloween—1981,' the events that led to the deaths of the aforementioned Potter couple."
She removed a new sheet from the folder and quickly checked what was written upon it.
"I possess the memories of people," she said almost to herself, "who were directly and indirectly connected with the events of this sorrowful period of history, and I propose that the esteemed Wizengamot and guests review them."
The presiding witch drew a Pensieve from beneath the table and a small box in which vials of memories stood in neat rows. Madam Bones removed from its slot a bottle bearing a label with a large number "1" and the letters "PP." Pouring the contents of the bottle into the Pensieve and tapping her wand against three places on its rim, Amelia watched as white mist rose above the edge of the vessel, thickened, and formed two small figures. Waving her wand toward them, she enlarged them until even the people in the back rows recognized Peter Pettigrew and Albus Dumbledore.
Everyone watched the images above the Pensieve, and no one noticed how the Supreme Warlock, who until that moment had silently and seemingly absently observed the development of the investigation, straightened. Fixing a piercing gaze upon Madam Bones, the presiding witch, the old wizard discreetly drew his wand from the sleeve of his rich robe and aimed it upward toward the woman.
Pettigrew's first memory concerned the conversation in which the school headmaster ordered the short Gryffindor student, and did so very harshly, to join the Death Eaters. Young Peter resisted, evaded, and explained that he found the ideas of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named repulsive and sympathized with the Light side, but the headmaster's pressure did not diminish. On the contrary, it increased, and finally Dumbledore changed his tactics and began persuading the Gryffindor that serving Voldemort would only be a pretense and that in reality his beloved student was expected to spy within the Death Eaters' ranks.
After the first memory, a second appeared. In it, without any persuasion or circumlocution, Dumbledore ordered Pettigrew to become the Potters' Secret Keeper. If the already plump Peter refused, as he wanted to do, Dumbledore threatened the "draining of his magical core."
At that point, because of the noise rising in the chamber, Madam Bones was forced to stop the viewing, for the wizard seated behind Lucius Malfoy signaled with his wand that he wished to speak.
It was Sir Terence Parkinson, one of those bearers of the Dark Mark who had escaped imprisonment by claiming that he had been placed under the Imperius Curse and forced to accept the mark.
"Esteemed Wizengamot, Supreme Warlock, Madam Presiding Witch," Parkinson began solemnly, revealing nothing of his true attitude toward them. "Please accept my apologies for the interruption, but the following question has arisen. Do you possess any memories belonging to Pettigrew or any information of your own concerning what Professor Dumbledore meant when he threatened this 'draining'? What kind of magic is it?"
"Sir Parkinson, Peter Pettigrew could remember nothing in that regard. I personally questioned him during the preliminary investigation and collected his memories. We shall direct this question to the Supreme Warlock if the investigation provides us with no other means of obtaining an answer. Do you accept my response?"
"I do, Madam Bones."
"Then let us continue with the Pensieve. We shall view the next memory."
Peter Pettigrew, whose appearance had improved during those eighteen months of free life in the Muggle world, writhed at the feet of a tall wizard, pulling at his purple robe and long white beard while begging him to stop the torture. Finally, the utterly tormented young wizard surrendered and agreed to obey his tormentor's order:
"All right, all right, I agree, Professor Dumbledore, just stop the Cruciatus Curse," he cried through his tears as he crawled along the ground. "I will live as a rat in the home of your Weasley slaves for as long as you say, and I will watch over them. I will take care of the children as well, just do not torture me anymore..."
After this heartrending scene, the eyes of every wizard present in the chamber fixed upon the Supreme Warlock seated in his chair amid ringing silence. That was what saved Amelia Bones's life. She struck the gavel and announced:
"Silence. I shall now present my own memories for the court's consideration, followed by the memories from the final minutes of my brother Edgar Bones's life on the day Death Eaters attacked the family estate."
Pettigrew's memories returned to their bottle, and the contents of bottle number two were poured into the Pensieve.
Above the Pensieve, brother and sister Bones first discussed Dumbledore's request. Then came a difficult-to-discern scene of Edgar's young family being tortured by the attackers, none of whom wore the distinctive clothing of the Death Eaters—a black robe and a silver mask. These were other people who mocked and tormented the young wife of the Head of the DMLE's brother, Margarita, while above all the screams and laughter there stood out a measured knocking sound, like wood striking stone—knock-knock-knock...
Amelia's final memory was the account given by her little niece, in which she spun a small blue ball through the air while simultaneously tapping a piece of wood against the floor in the same rhythm and spoke about red-haired men with identical faces...
The chamber was noisy. People shouted over one another, naming the most likely attackers, and they themselves could not believe that Alastor Moody and the deceased Prewett brothers could have committed such brutality. But the Pensieve did not reproduce falsified memories, so the members of the Wizengamot would have to brace themselves and face the terrifying reality of the genuine truth, and this frightened everyone.
When the people stopped turning around and discussing all possible explanations for the latest revelations, they went cold upon seeing that a line of Aurors had formed behind the Supreme Warlock's chair, with two frightening Dementor figures looming behind them. Either the Dementors were capable of restraining their effect upon people, or those present, including Dumbledore, had sensed nothing in the heat of the discussion, but the presence of the Azkaban guards remained unnoticed by the Supreme Warlock, who continued to sit there, fixing the same piercing gaze upon Madam Bones with his wand aimed at her.
Meanwhile, the Head of the DMLE prepared to demonstrate the contents of the next bottle—"No. 3, SOB."
__
[Please leave a few reviews and Power Stones]
The work on patreon is now complete.
If you enjoy my work, you can Support me at:
[email protected]/cw/Phoenixfic