Chapter 37

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...was tired. This was proving to be one of those days that made him feel his age and appreciate everything life has to offer, while mourning the mistakes made by his less wise self.

His eyes peered inside his Pensieve absently, the memory of a young Tom Riddle slowly drowning down to the bottom.

Exactly six years ago, he'd assumed the position of the Minister of magic—his fear of Voldemort's mysterious existence dwarfing the fear of his weakness; Power.

…And the temptation of power.

Once upon a time, people had simply considered him a wise old man—holding no true interest in positions of authority...and they'd been wrong. They'd been so very wrong, even back then. The thirst for power had never truly died down in him. Even when he'd stood against Gellert, saw with his own eyes what power could do to a once honorable man...he still craved it.

He simply managed to hide it better than others. Hide it deep behind the position of Hogwarts' Headmaster. For he knew with all his heart…he cannot be trusted with power.

Just like Gellert.

But what can one do, when forced to the extreme edge of desperation? With Harry Potter missing, and the Order of the Phoenix a mere shadow of what it once was, what was an old, tired Headmaster to do? Still blaming himself for the war that ravaged the magical Britain, weighed down by the lives of those murdered under his watch, and fearing for another spineless sycophant to lead them further down the drain, what was Albus Dumbledore to do?

The answer was revealed six years ago. Six years ago, he'd found a little bit of that old Gryffindor bravery in his heart, and he'd confronted his weakness head on; taking the position of Minister to safeguard this country from evils it was not ready to face.

To safeguard it from the mistakes that he'd himself made years ago.

After all, just like every man, Albus Dumbledore made mistakes. But unlike most men, his mistakes tended to have a higher degree of consequences.

But there were three mistakes that stood out from the rest. Three mistakes that would never stop haunting him till the rest of his short life. First was Grindelwald, and then was Voldemort…he'd once hoped that Harry Potter may prove to be his redemption, yet he proved to be his third—and the biggest—mistake of all.

Seven years ago, Albus had thought that he'd doomed the world. When he'd found the Prophecy child missing, he knew he'd made the mistake of a lifetime.

And thus he'd made the decision, swearing to atone for his mistakes. While he may not have the power to bring back the dead, he could save more from dying.

Even if he must face his weakness once again, taking up the position of ultimate authority in a country as powerful as the magical Britain.

Now? Now he doubted the legitimacy of his desperation. Was it truly for the sake of magical Britain that he took this position of absolute power? Were his intentions as pure as he'd convinced himself to be back then? Albus couldn't say. And he found himself in doubt.

Perhaps his old students were correct. Perhaps he truly was no longer worthy of their respect. What had he done in six years? Built an army that fought nothing but shadows. Built a school that pitted young children against one another. Built a country so wrought with doubt, that they'd begun distrusting the words of their own Minister.

And now, he was grasping at straws, sending men to every corner of Britain, hoping to find his old student-turned-enemy.

But that search was proving to be as much of a failure as his search for Harry Potter had been.

'Mayhaps I've grown too old for this.'

Suddenly his Phoenix chirped from his perch, the calm reassuring trill of his fiery friend making his heart lighter.

"Do you think, Fawkes?" He asked, "That he may come to us on his own? Just like our young friend has?"

Again, the beautiful Phoenix sang in assurance and his day brightened up just a little.

He was worrying too much. Harry Potter was here, and he'd come prepared. Ready for a war he knew nothing about.

And the prophecy was already coming true.

"The power he knows not..."

Albus had always assumed it to be something mysterious or abstract. Something as deep and unexplainable as love. Something that Tom had never known, and would no doubt underestimate. Wonderful in its mystery, terrible in its wrath, and powerful in its might. But perhaps the prophecy meant something much more direct than that. Yes, Albus acknowledged he may just have been wrong all along. After all, Albus Dumbledore was, and always has been, a hopeless romantic.

Perhaps, by power, the prophecy was being quite literal. Eyes that shot green flames maybe? Or hands that broke through steel? The muggle movies had very interesting powers, and he was making sure to get familiar with every single one of them. Though he doubted Harry would like to fly with a red underwear and skin-tight blue suit.

'Hmm...the boy already has super strength and speed, and if Severus is to be believed, is a wizard with far greater potential than his 'Worthless father'.'

A truly high praise, coming from the young man.

Still, perhaps it was time he gave some personal guidance to the boy. His childhood was already ruined, if Hawley of the World Security Council was to be believed. He mustn't make the same mistakes he'd made with Tom Riddle. It was time Albus learned to trust. This might even give him some idea on Harry's 'Power'. May it be his ability as a natural Occlumens, or his super physique, or his unnatural growth, or...as muggles like to say, his sheer badassery.

Albus would need to do some more... research. Indeed, it totally wasn't for his own amusement or entertainment. Muggle movies were a vital source of information to crack the prophecy. Anyone who said otherwise was simply not as wise as him.

"What's next on my schedule?" He wondered, browsing through the dirty brown diary. "Curse my old socks! I may have just forgotten about this entirely. Meeting with a World Security Member...well, if nothing else, they do provide a sufficient source of amusement. Wouldn't you agree with me, Fawkes?"

The bird trilled cautiously.

"You don't think a few fireworks for our guests might go terribly wrong do you? No, I don't think so either. It is to only impress them after all. I do so love them clapping and cheering for me. So here's what I want you to do, old friend..."

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Dear Harry,

Sorry for not replying the past couple of days, the Minister's been driving us nuts. He's been on edge for the last month or so, and I've been thinking about leaving the Aurors department altogether. Even a potential change to the Hit-Wizard Corps is not worth all this hassle. That Merlin-damned man is just too paranoid for his own good. I used to look up to him, you know? Back in the days when the Order was just a vigilante group, instead of this special guard-force it is now. And Dumbledore was just a good old headmaster, rather than the political powerhouse that he is now.

Anyway, sorry for that rant. Your question brought up some old memories, though none relating to any secret rooms confirmed to be made by the founders I'm afraid. I do remember some vague rumors, but we never really got any evidence to prove their validity. Regardless, I've compiled a list of places that I think might be more than what they seem, though you can be the judge of that.

1) Room of Rewards (Password is Vindictive Viridian)

2) Hogwarts Kitchen (was rumored to be created by Helga Hufflepuff)

3) Headmaster's office (There are statues of Griffins guarding the entrance. Hint hint)

4) Chamber of Secrets (I have my reasons to believe this may exist in actuality, though we never found any proof. But there have been cases about mysterious monster attacks in the castle, the recent one being around the time Hogwarts' current gamekeeper was expelled.)

5) Shrieking Shack—this one's not a Founder's room, but if you want some peace and quiet away from the castle, follow the secret path below the Whooping Willow. To reveal the hidden passage you'll have to press a knot at the base of the tree. It's not on our map so be careful. Ask Remus, he'll explain it better. Oh, and keep away from it during a full moon. (Ask Remus again)

Anyway, that's all I have currently, hopefully it's enough. If I remember something else I'll write back to you ASAP. Take care and feel free to reply.

Lots of love,

James

Finished reading, Harry folded back the letter with a frown.

Why was this quest so difficult? Truly, everything in his life was going unrealistically smooth for now—the teachers adored him, his violence was often overlooked, people were beginning to claim him as the second coming of Merlin, and the news of him being the youngest Seeker in centuries had taken over the castle with a storm.

It was only this quest that was a right pain in the arse.

One would think the real challenge would be clearing the dungeons, not finding them. Now he would have to do some more hunting...though at least it wouldn't be as aimless as before.

'Tempus'

It was barely past eleven in the night, a perfect time to roam the castle as long as he didn't encounter Filch. His stamina was almost full, and so he felt no particular need for sleep tonight.

The Dorm was dimly lit, the only glowing source being the small lamp sitting on his table.

Quickly changing from his night clothes, Harry donned a simple black tunic and matching pants, shoving the nightwear back in his multi-compartment trunk. Within a minute or two—with his wand in one hand and the Marauder's Map in the other—he was ready for his nightly activities.

"Harry..." Suddenly a voice hissed out from the bed beside his own, and Harry whirled around instantly, his version of magical shield snapping into existence at once…

Only for his eyes to fall upon the startled figure of Ron peering up at him wide-eyed.

"Woah, I didn't know you could do that!" Ron whispered in awe, scanning the shield with fascination before pulling himself together. "Umm…anyway, I was just wondering if...well, if I can come with you..."

Harry grunted in annoyance, dropping the shield. "How long have you been awake?"

"Never really slept, mate. I was kinda waiting for you to...ah, you know...get up."

Harry frowned, his wand still pointing at the boy. "Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? To come with you on this treasure hunt of course!" The boy exclaimed excitedly. "I saw you leaving the dormitory two nights ago. You were gone for an hour or so. I wanted to ask you but I was so-o-o sleepy that I forgot. Anyways, can I come?"

"No, you may not." Harry denied, absently wondering if he should stun the boy—though it served no purpose. "Do you truly think I will waste my time hunting imaginary treasures?"

"Oh." The boy's face fell. "Well, I thought...Oh. Where do you go then?"

"That does not concern—" Harry stopped himself mid-rebuttal, tilting his head as the idea suddenly took hold.

'Wouldn't searching for hidden rooms be easier with two people? Even if Ron proves to be completely incompetent, looking for hidden panels or doors was something he could surely do.'

Harry's mind whirled through any threats or complications it may present, but aside from Ron crowing about their rule-breaking to the teachers, he could think of no instance where the decision may come back to bite him in the ass.

Unless, of course, Ron proved to be incompetent enough that he becomes more hindrance than help. But the competence of an eleven-year-old's detective skill was unknown to him, so he couldn't rightly judge.

"I-It's fine if you don't want to tell me." Ron sniffed dejectedly.

"Don't be dramatic." Harry frowned, leaning down. "I'm exploring the castle for hidden rooms, think you can help me?"

"Of course!" The boy cheered up instantly. "D'you even need to ask?"

"Quietly!" Harry whispered harshly. "Don't wake anyone, and don't catch Filch's attention. Or Peeves'."

The boy nodded with a thumbs up, zipping his lips with the other hand.

In the next few minutes, Harry quickly explained the Marauder's Map to Ron, made him change into dark clothes, threatened him with death or worse upon failure—though he had a feeling Ron took it less seriously than Harry intended—and finally started their journey again.

Their first stop was the Room of Rewards on the third floor.

"But isn't that out of bounds?" Ron whispered.

"So are we. I doubt that should be your concern anymore."

Seconds passed to minutes in silence as they quietly made their way down from the seventh floor, passing through multiple corridors—avoiding traps and tickling the doors open—before finally reaching the Grand Staircase. Even at night, the staircases were still actively moving. They had to climb down and wait upon the stable platforms each time for the correct staircase to arrive—until finally they climbed down the last one that brought them to the third floor.

"This is so exciting!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes flickering around like a village idiot visiting a city, as they passed through the third floor corridors.

"Be quiet." Harry snapped, tilting his head as he concentrated. "Can you hear that?"

They both stopped and listened to the unquestionable sound of footsteps.

"He must be here somewhere, dear." Filch's scratchy voice growled from the next door. "He's always out at this time."

A cat meowed.

"Yes, yes of course! He's not getting away tonight, dear. Oh no, he's not."

Harry pulled Ron back as Filch started to open the door.

"C'mon." He dragged him into a different hallway, passing by the trophy room as he studied the map for another path to the Room of Rewards. "We'll take the long way."

The map guided them through a relatively peaceful route with little to no traps or obstacles on their way.

Unfortunately, the Room of Rewards turned out to be another red herring. At least, he took his system's silence as a sign of failure. Of course, his conclusion was based on the assumption that the system would inform him when he finally found a dungeon, or was close to it.

Perhaps his assumption was wrong. But how exactly would he find the dungeon then? If the system gave him no signs, how would he even know if he found one?

'Maybe I should search the whole damned castle.'

Annoyance welled up in him at the prospect of another time-consuming task that may end up in failure.

Still, giving up was not his style. Plus with its mysterious entrance, Harry was hoping for something worthwhile, even if it turned out not to be a dungeon.

So he followed the map's guidance and tapped the large portrait of the bald man with his wand, intoning clearly. "Vindictus Viridian."

The next instance the portrait swung inside, revealing an open doorway to enter—which they promptly did.

The Room of Rewards looked much less impressive than it sounded. Instead of being filled with trophies or such, it was littered with bundles of pages stacked along multiple tables. The only unusual thing about it was its shape, as instead of a regular boxed room, its walls curved up like a tunnel slightly, making a half 'U'.

"Ron, search for any hidden passages behind those paper towers." Harry instructed, realizing how likely it was to find hidden rooms in here.

"...tickle anything that looks suspicious, and if you see anything vaguely human, politely request it to reveal its secrets." He finished, thinking up all the absurd ways a door can be opened in Hogwarts.

"On it, mate!" Ron gave an awkward salute and scrambled to follow.

In the end however, it turned out to be another dud.

They searched uselessly for a long time, and with every passing second Harry became more and more assured that this was nothing but another half-an-hour of wasted time.

The stacked pages only had rough info on the people who'd been rewarded by Hogwarts over the centuries. Learning about some random Jacob and Maxim Sibling wasn't what he had in mind when he came here.

Still... Sibling. What an odd surname.

"Hey, Harry." Ron suddenly called out, his voice echoing across the room. "Isn't Hagrid the school's groundskeeper? I didn't know he was expelled from Hogwarts."

The name rang a bell in his head.

'Didn't James say something about the Chambers of Secrets being opened when the groundskeeper was expelled?'

Harry ruthlessly crushed down the faint beginnings of hope.

'Nope. Not ready for another disappointment yet.'

"Bring me the page, Ron."

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I have it here."

The parchment that Ron delivered had mere basics about a story involving a student named Tom Riddle, who managed to save Hogwarts from some 'Mysterious beast' that no one knew about, though some claimed it to be Slytherin's monster. In the end, Riddle managed to uncover 'Evil giant' Hagrid's 'Evil' plans and saved the castle. But no evidence was provided, save for the fact that Hagrid carried with him an Acromantula. But some called it a hoax, due to the fact that the victims of the attacks were either petrified, or killed cleanly. No injuries were ever seen, and not a drop of poison was ever found.

"Ron." Harry called out again.

"Yeah?"

"Your brother is a beast master, is he not?"

"Wha–?...No, mate. My brother's a Dragon tamer. What's a beast master anyway?"

"Same thing. Ask him if an Acromantula can petrify or kill its victims without leaving any signs or injuries."

"Sure. Why, though? Is that case connected to what you are searc–"

"Ooh, what do we have here?" They were suddenly interrupted by a high pitched squeaky voice, making Harry quickly turn around with his hand raised. But all he found was a tiny Poltergeist hanging in midair.

"Ickle firsties out of bed. What fun, what fun." Peeves cackled madly, his hands clutching his stomach.

His eyes then zeroed in on Harry, squinting slightly. "I know you! Ooh, you're that boy, aren't you? Out again to have some fun? Should tell Filch, I should. It's for your own good, your own good I say!"

That…could be a problem.

"Stay quiet, Peeves." Harry said, quickly rearranging the papers back to their original position.

"Ickle Potter wants me to be quietsie?" The Poltergeist giggled. "Say please then I mightsie!"

At this point, he would've already tried to see if the Cruciatus worked on ghosts or not, but Ron's presence complicated some things.

"Alright, we're done here." Harry muttered, tugging Ron along. "Come on."

"Can't go without saying please! Say please and I shan't scream!"

"Get out of the way, you dumb ghost." Ron swatted him aside.

And with malicious schadenfreude, Peeves opened his mouth wide, eliciting a sigh from Harry as he realized what was to come.

"CHILDREN OUT OF THE DORMITORIES!" The ghost hollered on top of his voice. "FIRSTIES OUT OF BOUNDS! FIRSTIES BREAKING RULES DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Cursing, Harry started to run as if hell was upon them. His annoyance spiked even more when he found Ron running like a turtle taking a leisure walk.

Harry stopped, then turned back—took hold of Ron's shirt—and dragged him along.

"Where!? Where are they Peeves?" Filch bellowed behind them.

"Get in." He pushed the redhead inside one of the corridors, shooting a quick Alohomora to open the door at the very end, and dragged them both inside in hopes of losing the infuriating caretaker and his ruddy cat.

For a few minutes they stayed still, struggling to hear the man's mutterings.

Harry didn't know if they'd lost him completely or not, but he wasn't willing to take chances. McGonagall had strictly confined his nightly walks to stay around the Gryffindor tower. He did not wish to lose that special permission—even though he did break it every night.

"H-Harry..." Ron whimpered behind him. He would've snapped at the boy but the sheer terror in his voice made him turn around.

"Oh." Harry half-frowned; one eyebrow climbing up, one arching down. "That's a big dog".

What he thought of as an abandoned room in an empty corridor wasn't, in fact, abandoned. Instead, it looked to be someone's home. Or perhaps a prison.

Its occupant? A massive three-headed dog, towering over them with a tilted head; sniffing in surprise. Its paws were the size of Harry's torso, lazily laid upon a trapped door as it stared down at them, drool hanging out of all three enormous jaws as it started growling—getting over their unexpected entrance.

Clearly, he did not appreciate their intrusion. What a surprise.

"We're leaving." Harry stated, more to the dog rather than Ron.

Then, with a last solemn nod at the three heads, he clasped upon Ron's shoulder and quickly got out of the room, just in time for the three heads to devolve into furious barking.

They didn't stop running until they reached their dorms again.

"Merlin's beard, Harry." Ron exclaimed, plopping himself on the bed. "That was wild!"

"Clearly." Harry rolled his eyes. "I doubt anyone will domesticate it."

"Not the dog! Well…that too, but the entire trip was wild! Like an adventure that they talk about in books. The sort they said you always went to."

"I assure you Ron…" Harry drawled out, removing his nightwear from the trunk. "This was very much my first time meeting a dog like that."

Ron snickered, then kept snickering until he broke down in gales of laughter, before slapping his mouth to stop from waking the other boys.

"Oh...mate," The boy shook his head. "That was fun. We should do that again."

"No." Harry said, quickly getting changed. "We have the Dueling tournament this week."

In actuality though, Harry simply had no intention of taking Ron with him again.

"Oh yeah." The redhead yawned, ignorant of his thoughts. "Wonder how that will go. Anyways, good night Harry. I'm so bloody tired..."

Harry hummed. "Goodnight."