Chapter 89 — Everything Has a Limit. So Do I.
Chapter 89: Everything Has a Limit. So Do I.
Not until the end of February did I finally receive the report from the ritual specialist—who had been dying to know where I had obtained the diagram—confirming that the pentagram was designed to connect me to a complex of enchantments and allow me to manage it almost intuitively. Beyond that, the design was laden with fail-safes; the enchantments could not draw energy from me against my will.
There were a great many fail-safes.
In short, I was satisfied, and one night, during my duty shift, I visited the small room. And the moment it was done, I quite literally felt the castle.
It was extraordinary. Incomparable. Utterly unlike anything else. It took my breath away.
A small act of will, and the head of Hogwarts's house-elf colony appeared before me, blinking in confusion.
"Not a word to anyone about my new... situation. And that goes for every house-elf in Hogwarts. Otherwise."
I snapped my fingers.
"Not another drop of the castle's energy for any of you."
"Mercy!"
The elf collapsed to his knees and struck his forehead against the floor.
"If you do keep silent, however, then within a year or two I'll increase the supply of energy to your colony, and there may even be elflings."
The head-banging stopped. The elf raised his eyes to mine very slowly.
"Great Master of Hogwarts is not lying?"
"I'm not lying. Within a year or two I'll have the castle's enchantments in a reasonable state of repair. They'll stop bleeding magic into the air at such a rate, and I'll be able to redirect some of that energy to sustaining your colony. But."
"Nobody will know! House-elves will tell nobody."
"Excellent. One more thing. The Black family house-elf is to have unrestricted access to the grounds. He'll be assisting me with the enchantment restoration."
"It shall be done!"
"You may go."
The elf vanished. I looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful. I was beginning to understand why Dumbledore clung to this position so fiercely, as it was obvious to everyone that he held far too many posts and could spare very little time for the school. If he felt even a fraction of what I was feeling now, even with access limited to the damaged primary system... walking away from this would not be easy.
"Kreacher."
"Master called Kreache...r?"
"Yes. Tell my mothers I'll need sacrifices: magical creatures would be ideal."
I sighed.
"Within the next day or two I'll have another batch of Basilisk venom ready for collection. By then I'll need a great many subjects. I need to feed the castle's auxiliary enchantments; they've been starved for too long."
I shook my head.
"Everything will be passed on."
Kreacher swept his ears along the floor and vanished. I went directly to the Room of Requirement to share the news, then left the portraits to discuss matters among themselves and returned to my room. Unfortunately, the auxiliary enchantments gave me no way to track down the Horcrux I knew to be somewhere within Hogwarts. In general, these reserve systems offered very little in the way of active ability. Only the capacity to sense the enchantments themselves, assess the condition of the primary systems, redistribute energy through the castle, and channel the castle's energy as though it were my own.
But I had no intention of abusing that last ability. At this stage it would do me far more harm than good.
The following week passed in a blur of obligations: teaching, studying under Flitwick and Candida, with Salazar and Helga also contributing to my education in smaller but meaningful ways, and running the Duelling Club.
All of it consumed enormous amounts of time. And I still had my own Gift to develop, the sacrificial rituals to perform to feed the castle's enchantments, and the summoning ritual for Godric's imprint to prepare.
In the end, when I finally summoned Godric's imprint, I didn't even make it back to my own room. I lost consciousness right there in the Room of Requirement, and woke only when Flitwick's voice sounded directly above me.
"My boy. You are overdoing it."
I opened my eyes and looked up at my mentor.
"Professor, don't worry. The business of summoning the Founders' portraits no longer hangs over me, at least until they've devised the next ritual. So I'll be able to get more rest. Though the potions still haven't been tested, so I can't take them yet."
I sighed with genuine regret.
"Frankly, young man, I am not at all pleased to see you drive yourself to this state."
Godric spoke sternly, and there was not the slightest warmth in his gaze.
"And I am even more displeased by the behavior of my companions. What were you thinking, allowing the boy to reach this condition?"
"Brother, don't grumble. We were watching over him. But we could not intervene yet. We needed to see whether he would push through difficulties or simply give up. He had already demonstrated his mettle many times over, but an additional test is never wasted."
"You were testing my student?"
Flitwick looked at the portraits.
"And to what end, precisely?"
"We need our own person, someone who will advocate for our rights before the Ministry. In exchange, we are prepared to reward your student with knowledge and ability. I believe he is already capable, with some effort, of sitting his Mastery examination in Charms and Enchantments."
It was Candida who answered.
"He is the Duelling Championship champion, so I imagine he could also earn at least an Apprenticeship classification in combat magic. As I understand it, he is also working on Transfiguration. In short, he works like a man possessed, and if you assist him in Charms and Enchantments, as you have in duelling, then we will see to his development in other disciplines."
"I have had absolutely enough of all this."
I said it in a quiet, nearly hollow voice.
"I need to ask my mother to buy a plot of land in Russia, somewhere in Siberia, and put up a small hut and become a hermit."
I pushed myself upright and looked at the portraits with mild but genuine irritation.
"I am so bloody tired of studying. I have been studying for as long as I can remember. I haven't had so much as two months off in my entire life, and now dead scoundrels have decided to push me into a nervous breakdown. You can all go to hell: the lessons, the studying, the rituals, the repairs, the maintenance, the whole bloody lot of it."
I got up from the floor, walked out of the Room of Requirement, made my way to my office, and poured myself into a chair to wait for the next lesson. I didn't even notice when one of the house-elves brought me a very large mug of cocoa and a couple of sandwiches.
Two days later. The Headmaster's office.
"Filius, where is Draco?"
Dumbledore looked at the Ravenclaw Head of House with mild surprise. The young man had not previously allowed himself to miss staff meetings.
"He's resting."
"Resting?"
There was a sharp, venomous amusement in Snape's voice.
"From what, exactly?"
Let me think. He is twelve years old, and he already teaches the first three years at Hogwarts, runs a Duelling Club for the same students, holds an Apprenticeship and continues working towards a Mastery, has, as I recently learned, been carrying out commissions for Lady Ravenclaw, and still finds time for physical training and developing his personal Gift. And then there's preparing material for all his other subjects for next year. Yes, one does wonder why he needs rest.
Flitwick's voice as he answered the Potions master's question was laced with entirely unmasked venom, the kind that practically dared someone to say one more word and start a fight right then and there.
"Friends, there's no need to quarrel."
Dumbledore raised his hands slightly to defuse the escalating tension.
"And yet, while I fully understand that Mr Black is deeply fatigued, and I can see for myself how hard he works, and in that respect I'm entirely on Filius's side."
McGonagall gave her colleague a nod.
"Missing a staff meeting is another matter."
"Minerva, by all means go and inform him that he is required to attend. But I should warn you: a few days ago, when he came to from his collapse (physical and mental exhaustion, thankfully, not magical), the first thing he heard was my voice, and he told both Candida and me to go to the devil. And I rather suspect that if you appeared and told him he was obliged to be here, his response to you would be exactly the same."
"Ahem."
McGonagall looked distinctly ruffled, indignation and embarrassment at war on her face.
"He said what?"
"Oh, Minerva."
Flitwick waved it off.
"He is a young man who needs at least two weeks' rest. After that he'll be back at full capacity."
"Well, since we've settled the matter of Mr Black's absence, I suggest we move to more pressing news. The castle has begun to come alive. And given that Filius recently mentioned Mr Black has been carrying out commissions on Lady Ravenclaw's behalf, I don't think I'm wrong in assuming these commissions have a direct bearing on why the castle feels, however slightly, more alive."
"And what could he possibly have done?"
Severus's voice was heavy.
"Well, that I can actually answer."
Flitwick shrugged.
"Lady Ravenclaw explained it to me. He spent money that Lady Candida released from her own reserves to purchase magical creatures, which he has been sacrificing to the castle."
"Sacrificial magic is forbidden!"
McGonagall was on her feet before she'd quite finished the sentence.
"Is it? Well then, I presume, my dear colleague, that you'd be prepared to personally deliver the letters of condolence after the next rift-breach, something like the one that occurred in Germany not long ago, or here in Britain, and explain to grieving parents that you knew about the coming Convergence, and that rather than preserve Hogwarts's standing as the safest place in Britain, you chose to cling to outdated statutes. Particularly since the creatures being sacrificed are magical animals, not sentient beings."
"I take it you didn't bring this up without reason?"
"Correct. Lady Ravenclaw initially hoped that Draco alone would suffice. After the New Year he brought Pomona and me into the work of restoring certain enchantments, but she now understands the original plan was wildly optimistic. The entire teaching staff will be needed if Hogwarts is to hold."
"Hogwarts will hold regardless."
"No, Minerva."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Previously I couldn't feel it: the flow of energy through the castle's enchantments had dropped too low. But now that Mr Black has sent fresh energy through them, I've realized there's a great deal of restoration needed. Too many gaps left by past repairs, through which energy bleeds away. The castle may well survive the Convergence itself, but it will no longer be able to call itself the safest place in Britain afterwards."
"Headmaster."
McGonagall looked at her mentor with something like bewilderment.
"But sacrificial magic, blood magic..."
"In my time, this branch was still taught, and I have some familiarity with it. In any case, I am frankly ashamed that a child who should be a pupil in my school is doing more for its survival than I am. So."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"I have decided that before the end of this school year I will be stepping down from all my other positions and remaining solely as Headmaster. I know I have always wanted to help everywhere, but the children must come first."
Flitwick blinked and gave a quiet shake of his head. The announcement surprised every teacher in the room. More than one of them had the fleeting thought that something very large must have died somewhere for Dumbledore to be voluntarily relinquishing everything except the Hogwarts headmastership.
"Very well."
McGonagall closed her eyes, plainly exerting considerable effort to control herself.
"I will help. I only ask that no one count on me to perform the sacrificial magic, but everything else, everything within my ability."
"I am prepared to do whatever is necessary."
Severus looked at his Gryffindor colleague and a thin, sardonic smile touched his lips.
"Unlike some, I am not particular. I could even offer up sentient beings if the need arose."
"Who would doubt it?"
"Enough."
Dumbledore stopped the fresh exchange before it could ignite properly.
"Minerva, it pains me to say this, as I have spent my life opposing the Dark Arts. But without them, we cannot prepare for the Convergence. I'll tell you more: the Blacks have obtained official permission from both the Ministry and the Crown, and are specifically purchasing prisoners from the jails to raise a highly reliable barrier over the quarter they are building. A similar barrier is being raised around the Palace."
Dumbledore shook his head, and McGonagall stared at him in open astonishment.
"Furthermore, there are plans for the same kind of barrier over Diagon Alley. The Ritualists' Guild has already been commissioned for the calculations, and the Ministry is now urgently re-examining every prisoner in Azkaban, with truth serum and a Legilimens. Those who do not pass..."
Again Dumbledore shook his head.
"But that's... that's..."
"This is the new reality, Minerva. No one wants the next rift-breach to claim as many lives as the last ones. And everyone who knows what is coming understands that it will only get worse."
"I... I cannot accept this."
McGonagall looked down at the table.
"You will have to."
Flitwick rejoined the conversation.
"Because our survival after the Convergence depends on it. The creatures from the world we are converging with are extremely numerous. An entire continent there is inhabited only by them."
The teachers went very still. Every face in the room held a trace of shock.
"How do you know this, Filius?"
"Because I receive every new lecture from Mrs Summer Rose, the woman the Grimm carried through a rift into our world. In her world, she belonged to an organization called Huntsmen, who protect the civilian population from these creatures, which means she knows a good deal more than an ordinary citizen would. In short, we must prepare ourselves for the fact that the world as we know it will no longer be peaceful. We face an ongoing war with the Grimm, and there will be vast numbers of them. They will prey on Muggles first, and when the final Convergence comes, a great many ordinary people will die in the first days alone."
Silence settled over the office.
Every teacher sat with their own thoughts, but each of them understood, with quiet clarity, that it was truly not right to leave all of this work to a twelve-year-old boy.
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4.Harry Potter: Reborn as Draco Black = CHAPTER 141
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