4

Chapter 4 – Spreading Knowledge

Friday 27th November 1981

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

"Yes, come on through, Auror Coppenhall," Dumbledore said genially. "I hope your family is well."

"Yes, thank you, Headmaster. Lynda's nicely recovered from Kevin's birth and they're back at home now."

"Good to hear it, my boy. Now you said that you were following up on the Potters' deaths and had some questions for me. I thought that everything had been resolved?"

"So did I, but I'm afraid Head Auror Scrimgeour wasn't of the same opinion. He found a few holes in what the evidence suggested that he insisted I come back to you with."

"Very well. How can I help with that?"

Coppenhall pulled out his notebook and consulted it.

"What happened to the Potters' son, Harry?" he asked. "He wasn't there when I arrived."

"He's safely with his Godfather now."

"Now?"

Dumbledore grimaced internally, as he realised the Auror had picked up on his slip.

"Yes."

"So he was actually on the premises when You-know-Who attacked?"

"Yes."

"And yet he was safe?"

"Oh yes."

Coppenhall paused for a moment, mentally reviewing the crime scene and the evidence he had found.

"He was in his crib when You-know-Who attacked, otherwise Lily Potter wouldn't have been defending the doorway to the nursery to the death?"

It was more of a statement than a question.

"He was in his crib when I arrived. I cannot say whether he was there when Voldemort left."

Dumbledore was being very careful with his answers, Coppenhall realised. Which meant he knew – or at least suspected – that something had happened that didn't want the Aurors to become aware of.

"I hope you're not expecting me to believe that the Dark Lord killed James and Lily Potter and then just left? Or that he cast the Killing Curse upon himself? Even that would have left a body.

"Exactly what happened, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore paused.

"Everything is speculation, Auror. If you want my surmise, then I can provide it, but it must not go on the official record."

Coppenhall slid his notebook back into his pocket.

"Go ahead."

"I think you're aware that Voldemort cast the Killing Curse after Lily was dead?"

"Yes. That was one of the things that made no sense if there was nobody else in the house. Are you saying he cast it at the child?"

"Yes."

"And he... he still lives?" the Auror gasped out in astonishment.

"Indeed."

"And... and..." Coppenhall was having difficulty coming to terms with the conclusions he was reaching. "And You-know-Who died?!"

"Possibly," Dumbledore prevaricated. "And that is why this can't be part of the official record."

"What? Why? Don't people need to know he's gone?"

"Perhaps, but they'll figure that out for themselves in time."

"Then why?"

"Two reasons, both of which I am sure you will agree are of considerable importance.

"Firstly, how do you think people will react, if we start spreading an unverified story that Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord?

"I worry that so many will fete young Harry, and consider him a hero without any understanding of what has happened and what this would mean for the poor boy, orphaned at such a young age. Either he would grow up with the world believing that he was their saviour, or we would have to take steps to protect him from the public, place him away from the inevitable clamour that his life would become.

"And yet we don't even know that it was anything he did at all. Perhaps there was some form of protection that James or Lily placed on their son or on his crib that caused the Killing Curse to rebound? Perhaps it was nothing to do with any of them, and Voldemort spontaneously combusted. We just don't know."

"But... but you said-"

"I said that this was what I had surmised. If word was spread, truly or not, that Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, what sort of target do you think that might paint on the child's back when Death Eaters hear about it? And all on my speculation! He'd be a marked man for the rest of his life, assuming he survived the attempts that would be made on him whilst he was still an infant.

"Not only that, but the public would no doubt see him as their guaranteed saviour if and when Voldemort returned, because the second reason is that Voldemort is not completely gone."

"What?! I thought you said-"

"He might be dead, but he's not gone," Dumbledore explained. "His continued fixation with cheating death has, it seems, borne at least some fruit. A colleague and I have already found and destroyed Horcruxes belonging to Voldemort that tied his soul to the earthly plane."

"That's insane!"

"Perhaps so, but it doesn't make it any less true."

"But if you've destroyed his Horcruxes..."

"Only two of them."

Coppenhall realised that his mouth was wide open in astonishment and closed it sharply.

"How many?" he asked weakly.

"We think either six or seven."

The Auror dropped heavily into the seat behind him.

"Shite!"

"But we do have some leads on where others may be, so don't lose all hope, young man."

"Blimey! I can see why you wouldn't want this all becoming common knowledge."

"Not common knowledge, indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "but some people have to know, otherwise if the Dark Lord does return the nation will be completely unprepared."

Coppenhall rubbed his hands across his face.

"That's all well and good," he said, "but how on earth am I supposed to get Scrimgeour to sign off my scene of crime report? He was adamant that I interviewed you, Black and Hagrid and plugged the 'gaping holes' he saw in the logic of the report."

"Go ahead and speak to Hagrid and to Sirius and compile your report. I shall speak with Rufus directly myself, alert him to the situation and appraise him of its seriousness," Dumbledore promised. "It's probably best that he is among those who know of this, even if it isn't in your written report."

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Monday 30th November 1981

DMLE, Ministry of Magic

As a man who had progressed through the ranks of the Aurors, Rufus Scrimgeour had a good feel for when a suspect had something legitimately valuable to tell him that might actually warrant a plea bargain for a lesser sentence. He could tell a desperate bluff from a real exchange of useful information, and had seen far more of the former than the latter.

He also had a sense for who was, or was likely to be, a politically powerful player. After all, Scrimgeour had his own ambitions, and Head Auror was a significant stepping stone on the way to achieving some of them – perhaps one day even filling the seat of the Minister, if all went well.

This was why he was contemplating carefully whether he would even consider hearing what this particular prisoner had to offer.

"Bring him in, Fytche," he said to the Auror in front of him with a sigh. Not knowing how this would turn out was threatening to spoil his dinner.

The Auror disappeared, and returned fairly swiftly, this time with a prisoner held between himself and a fellow Auror.

"Sit, Malfoy," Scrimgeour instructed, pointing at the chair in front of his desk.

The aristocratic blond awkwardly settled onto the chair, his hands still manacled behind him.

"Fytche, send in Auror Coppenhall, then you and Auror Belcher can wait outside the door," the Head Auror barked.

A few moments later, Coppenhall arrived and took station behind Malfoy, standing just where the prisoner would catch him out of the corner of his eye.

"This information is sensitive," Malfoy asserted, flicking his eyes to the Auror.

"Coppenhall can be trusted. Besides, you don't get to see the Head Auror without security present."

"Very well," Malfoy accepted. "But you'll want to keep this to yourselves."

"You don't have much to bargain with, Malfoy. You've already been named as a Death Eater by a witness under veritaserum, in front of the Wizengamot. One of the Dark Lord's chosen leaders, as I understand it. Even if we can't actually get a guilty trial verdict in relation to a capital crime – and we believe we can, even if we have to resort to similar means again – you're named and shamed and at the very minimum looking at a lengthy spell in Azkaban simply for being a member of an illegal paramilitary organisation."

This wasn't completely true. The designation of the Death Eaters as a forbidden group only dated from the previous week and Scrimgeour had no idea whether he could get away with applying it retrospectively, but of course Malfoy wasn't to know that.

Malfoy's self-satisfied smirk turned a little sour at the reminder that he'd essentially been grassed up by people he thought he could trust. This wasn't going to be easy, he could tell, and he was about to take the biggest risk of his life – one that would result in tortures that would make Azkaban seem an easy life by comparison if the Dark Lord ever found out.

His eyes flicked towards Coppenhall again.

"You're aware that the Dark Lord created Horcruxes?" he asked, and was bitterly disappointed to realise from their reactions that it wasn't a surprise to the two men in the room with him. No gasp of astonishment came from either of them.

"Yes, we're aware that He-who-must-not-be-named created Horcruxes. Plural. We're also aware that two of them have already been destroyed within the last few weeks."

Malfoy hissed in surprise himself. He had thought the knowledge to be obscure. That, even if a select few knew of it, the likes of Dumbledore would have suppressed it. The Ministry having already disposed of two Horcruxes put a whole new slant on things.

He thought for a moment. It might even make his information more valuable.

"We've also surmised that he may have made seven of the cursed things," Scrimgeour added, dashing some of the prisoner's hopes.

"Seven!"

"Yes."

"Then you know he's not truly gone until all of them have been destroyed?"

"That's the assumption we're working to, yes. We may not have much lore on the subject, but we know those who do."

"And... you know he's gone for now?"

"Again, that is our surmise, yes. What makes you think that he's gone for now."

Malfoy laughed.

"I'd hardly have been named as one of his inner circle if he didn't keep me informed of what his plans were and what we were supposed to be doing, would I? That nobody's heard anything for almost a month – since he was intending to take the Potters out – is confirmation in and of itself. Bellatrix couldn't get anything more useful out of the Longbottoms than that."

"You were there?"

"No. But I've obviously seen her since. She is my sister-in-law, after all, even if we weren't both working for the same team."

The clock behind Scrimgeour struck three times.

"We need to move things along, Malfoy – I'm due in court in half an hour. You requested this meeting because you said you had information that was vital to our ultimate defeat of Voldemort, so lay it out for me."

Malfoy grinned slyly.

"Not just information, Scrimgeour," he said. "I've actually got one of the Horcruxes."

"What?"

"Of course. The Dark Lord entrusted his soul to those he hoped would gain him power – and that might look to resurrect him using a Horcrux should he somehow be toppled."

"And yet you're offering to give up one of those pieces of his soul."

"Not for nothing. And not without considerable risk to my own person, I should add."

Scrimgeour frowned. Yes, he'd been right – Lucius Malfoy was one of the most slippery of customers, but he didn't think he could turn down whatever offer the Death Eater put on the table. Disposing of the Horcruxes was that important.

"What did you have in mind? I can't see any way that you'd be allowed to get off scot-free. Even if I were to countenance it, there are too many others who have heard the trial testimony in which you were named."

"True."

"So, what?"

"I was thinking that we could work something out that didn't involve me going to Azkaban," he said grimly.

Scrimgeour considered it.

"House arrest, you mean?"

"Indeed."

Would the Wizengamot accept such a plea bargain, the Head Auror wondered. How much would he have to reveal to them? Some of those already put on trial had tried to claim that they had been put under the Imperius by Voldemort or one of his inner circle, and although there had been little sympathy for those without thousands of galleons to spend on inducements, someone like Malfoy might just have enough influence or gold to buy himself free anyway.

"You think you can raise enough support among the Members that I can get that through?"

"On your recommendation as Head Auror, yes. Half of those who owe me would renege on any deal without some level of support from the Ministry – they'd rather see me locked away completely, but will be happy enough to vote along with you and feel as though they have paid off any debt they owe to me."

"I think we'd need to be looking for a significant financial penalty as well, in that case," Scrimgeour said. "Perhaps a donation directly to St. Mungo's."

Malfoy nodded in acquiescence.

"Very well. I'll see what I can do. Obviously this will have to go before the Court, but with my recommendation, I should be able to swing that. The Horcrux?"

"Is safe and hidden at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa knows how to get hold of it."

"What is it?"

"A diary belonging to one T. M. Riddle – the heir of Slytherin."

"And how does it work?"

"I don't have a clue," the prisoner replied, gaining confidence that his proposal was being received favourably. "I was simply left with instructions."

"Which were?"

"Very basic – I would know when the time came, and I was to arrange for a child to take the diary to Hogwarts. My suspicion is that writing in the diary would awaken the soul imprint that was left there, and that over time it would take over the body and consciousness of the person who wrote in it."

Scrimgeour winced.

"Nasty."

"Perhaps," Malfoy acknowledged. "I certainly had no intention of subjecting my own son to such a possibility. I was more interested in perhaps palming it off on my wife's mudblood niece, since she would be expected to attend Hogwarts in another three or four years, but no real plan had crossed my mind. It is, after all, only a few weeks since he disappeared."

Scrimgeour ignored the epithet.

"In the meantime, we need to get you back into the cells, I'm afraid, Malfoy. Let's keep you nice and safe until your trial."

"Very well. I suspect I'll be in more danger after the trial," he replied wryly as Scrimgeour indicated to Coppenhall that he was to bring the other two Aurors back in.

"Maybe so. But I guess that's part of your price for avoiding a term in Azkaban – I'm sure you've got plenty of security provisions in place at home, and there's nothing to stop you upgrading them – not once we remand you to your manor, in any case."

Malfoy shrugged and allowed the two Aurors, Fytche and Belcher, to lead him away again.

===AMCR-AMCR====AMCR-AMCR===

Tuesday 8th December 1981

Longbottom Hall

"I still can't believe that Scrimgeour would countenance a deal with Malfoy, of all people, that would see him go free," Sirius complained to Frank Longbottom as they sat in his study. "He's got to be the slipperiest customer I've ever come across."

The two of them had been in the Court Room that day as the trials took place for Lucius Malfoy and many of the people he and others who had been arrested, such as Barty Crouch Junior, had given up. Sirius as an interested spectator and Frank as an on-duty Auror.

"I thought it was a fair bargain, to be honest," Frank replied.

"How so?"

"Well, getting rid of the Horcruxes has to be one of our biggest and most urgent priorities, so getting one just handed over to us is something that I don't think we could have refused."

"But to let Malfoy escape an Azkaban sentence..."

"He's not getting off completely," Frank pointed out. "I thought Scrimgeour worked in the additional requirements really well."

"You mean the suspended sentence stuff?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. It really makes his house arrest sentence much more substantial, because he knows that he's only got to start acting up and they can activate the Azkaban element. That'll keep him away from interfering in politics for a fair while."

"Five years, anyway."

"Yep. Plus the additional thirty days that he's got to serve in the Ministry cells first. And the fine."

"The fine's nothing," Sirius pointed out. "It's a drop in the ocean for someone as rich as Malfoy."

"True," Frank agreed, "but it's money that St Mungo's can use well. And that's already been handed over by Gringotts."

Sirius sighed.

"Yeah. Even so..."

"Look at it this way, Sirius – we had no idea that Malfoy actually had one of the items in the first place, nor any clue what this particular one was. Even Dumbledore didn't have a lead on it, other than the suggestion he'd received from Flamel that one of the items would be something personal of Voldemort's," Frank explained. "If nothing else, it's saved us ages trying to figure out what the item might be and where it was.

"At worst, if Malfoy had allowed it to be set loose at Hogwarts, who knows what sort of damage an avatar of Voldemort would have done, even if it didn't have his full powers or return him to a body – which was apparently what it was intended to do."

Sirius winced.

"And think about this – it's probably prevented Malfoy from ever working directly for the Dark Lord again. He's going to be in fear of his life if the bugger ever gets himself reincorporated. You don't just hand over a piece of someone's soul to the Aurors and then waltz back into his company."

"True, true," Sirius acknowledged grumpily. "And now I know why they had his trial last, this afternoon."

"Lots of reasons, but yeah, mostly for security. Plus, anything that came after it would have been a complete anti-climax."

"I'm just glad Scrimgeour didn't have to tell the whole Wizengamot about the Horcruxes. There's enough people who already know, and some of them I wouldn't trust not to go out and try it for themselves."

"One of the benefits of having a good record in the Department, I guess," Frank admitted. "That and being able to count on those who wanted to curry favour with Malfoy to vote for a lesser punishment for him."

"I was surprised that Dumbledore told him at all."

"Just as well he did, otherwise he'd have had no real idea of how to proceed with Malfoy's offer, and we might never have known of the diary, or been able to ensure that the Horcrux was destroyed."

Frank looked up sharply as one of his House-elves popped quietly into the room.

"What is it, Misty?" he asked.

"There be Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts wanting to come through the Floo, Master Frank," the Elf said respectfully. "He be saying that he have bad news."

Frank frowned. He wasn't sure what news might be coming up right now, and anything unexpected wasn't likely to be a pleasant surprise.

"Invite him through, please, Misty, and bring him here."

"Yes, Master Frank."

The Elf popped away once more, and was then back in more conventional fashion a few minutes later, leading Dumbledore to the door of Frank's study.

"Thank you, Misty," Frank said, dismissing the Elf. "Come in and have a seat, Headmaster. If you're bringing bad news at least we can hear it sitting down."

"Ah, thank you, Frank," Dumbledore replied, closing the door behind him and settling himself into a leather armchair.

"I'm afraid it's been rather a busy evening," the Headmaster began. "Head Auror Scrimgeour arranged for me to oversee the collection of the diary Horcrux that Lucius Malfoy had offered to turn over. A most ingenious thing it was, too – as I think Mister Malfoy himself had speculated, it was designed to take the life force of the person who foolishly wrote in it and use it to create a new body for Voldemort.

"In this case, the body would have been that of his seventeen-year-old self, as youthfully handsome and charming as he was at that age.

"In fact, I was still examining it in Rufus's office when all sorts of alarms began to go off in the Auror Headquarters."

"Not a call out for personnel, then?" Frank asked. "I didn't get a call here."

Dumbledore sighed.

"No indeed," he said. "In fact, it was another breach of the cell block security."

"Again?" Sirius asked, aghast.

"I'm afraid so. We've lost anything else we might have been able to gain from Lucius Malfoy's further testimony."

"They got to Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid so, Sirius."

"Excellent!" Sirius gloated happily.

"Sirius!"

"What? Aren't I allowed to be glad that he got his just desserts?"

Dumbledore frowned. "I think it a little gauche, young man. I trust you'll react rather more decorously in public!"

Sirius shared a look with Frank and shrugged.

"If nothing else, Headmaster, I'm relieved that he's no longer a threat," he replied. "He already admitted to being one of Voldemort's chief lieutenants, which makes him guilty of sedition, treason and conspiracy to multiple murders as a bare minimum, regardless of anything else he might have done."

"Even so, Sirius. To delight in someone's death is less than becoming of you."

"Blame it on my upbringing," Sirius suggested bluntly. "I was indoctrinated from an early age that getting rid of your enemies was a key step in ensuring your own security."

Dumbledore gave him a hard look.

"And what of any more inside information that we might have been able to extract from him?"

"I think you're barking up the wrong tree there," Frank broke in. "With Voldemort presumed dead, any intelligence Malfoy might have had is pretty much worthless. We got a bonus out of him by securing the Horcrux he'd been entrusted with."

"I suppose you're right," Dumbledore said after a pause, "but I still don't consider this to be time for celebration," he chided, looking sternly at Sirius.

Sirius threw his arms up in surrender.

"We still don't know how someone is getting into and out of the Ministry holding cells with impunity," Dumbledore continued, "which is quite a threat to security in its own right. Lucius was supposed to be closely guarded and watched full time, yet someone managed to compromise the guard team – all were asleep when the alarm was sounded and showed no obvious sign of having even thought that an intruder might be present."

"They were stunned, not killed, then?" Frank asked curiously.

"Yes. As though whomever the culprit was, he wanted us to waste our time placing the blame on the guards – not that they will escape without sanction themselves – rather than searching for an alternative explanation.

"There were no traces of the assailant – the doors had been opened by someone who knew the right codes and spells and who was very careful in what they touched. Lucius had been struck down with the Killing Curse, and it appears that it was his own wand that was used, which just like Barty Crouch's should have been locked away securely as evidence."

"Everything points to an inside job," Sirius said, glumly. Many of those in the Auror were friends or colleagues, and to think that one of them was responsible was disheartening.

"And yet the only person that was even detected in the vicinity was the Quidditch player."

"What Quidditch player?" Frank asked. "Why would a Quidditch player be in the Ministry building."

"That young fool, Ludo Bagman," Dumbledore replied. "Apparently visiting some of his father's old friends in the Ministry and looking for a chance to worm his way into a cushy Ministry job when he retires."

"Isn't he still starting at Beater for England?" Frank asked, looking at Sirius.

"As far as I know," Sirius said. "Nobody's mentioned anything about him retiring that I'd heard – he's still only about thirty or so, isn't he?"

"Maybe not quite so much a fool as you think then, Headmaster, if he's already thinking about his post-playing career," Frank suggested. "I can't see him having the sort of stealthiness that this would require, though."

"Nor the talent," Dumbledore suggested. "He seemed befuddled enough just with the alarms going off. I would like to think that the Ministry wouldn't have to stoop to such levels to fill important roles , but I fear that nepotism is that rife that it's almost a certainty he would get a job."

"That and the fact he's both a hero to many for his Quidditch performances and a pureblood of good standing make it pretty inevitable, I would say," Sirius quipped darkly.

"So unless you're suggesting that we include Bagman as a possibility, we have no suspects and no clues," Frank surmised with a sigh. "Super."

They sat for a moment in slightly deflated contemplation, before Sirius broke the silence.

"You were telling us about the Horcrux," he prompted.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said. "Nasty thing it was too. A compulsion charm on it to write in it on a regular basis. It would have been difficult for a young boy or girl to resist spilling out their innermost thoughts and fears and fuelling the diary's emotional component that would have aided in drawing the life force from the unfortunate victim. Almost semi-sentient, as well, as though it had a particular aim.

"The Department of Mysteries was keen on keeping it and investigating it further. I had to argue very strongly that it should be destroyed – Rookwood and others felt that we could learn yet more from it, and were inclined to take it back to their offices for further study."

"So that's three Horcruxes disposed of?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, fortunately. But only two more whose identity I would be confident of. All the arithmancy points to yet two more somewhere out there, too, and Nicholas agrees."

"Two?"

"Yes, because we think the one that tainted poor Harry was accidental. Or may not actually have been a Horcrux in itself, just a shard of the dark soul. There was no evidence of ritual activity at Godric's Hollow, and no obvious time for Voldemort to have prepared such, in any case, given the temporal proximity of James's and Lily's deaths to his disincorporation."

"And any idea where they might be?"

"Something tells me that at least one must be at Hogwarts," the Headmaster said, "but we have done such a thorough search that I don't know where it could possibly be that we haven't looked."

"You think it's linked to the curse on the Defence against the Dark Arts position?" Frank asked.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Logic suggests that it's a theory that shouldn't be ignored, but I'm only aware of Tom Riddle making one visit back to the school after he completed his NEWT year."

"When he applied for the Defence job?"

"Indeed. And given the difficulties I have had in filling the post ever since that day, it seems highly probably that was when the curse was placed. If he also left a Horcrux somewhere in the castle at the same time, I couldn't say, but he does have this obsession with the Founders' artefacts, and could be said to have considered Hogwarts to be his home."

"He had no real home?" Sirius asked.

"His mother died shortly after giving birth to him and he was raised in an orphanage."

"And his father?"

"Knew little of him – he was a muggle and the victim of love potions. When he eventually escaped them he had a pregnant wife he was repelled by and abandoned her. The father was murdered and Riddle's uncle, Morfin Gaunt sentenced to Azkaban for the deed. Hogwarts was essentially Riddle's first real home. "

"And you think that holds significance?"

"It's possible."

Sirius looked slightly uncertain.

"Umm... I might know of something that may be of use," he suggested. "If you're looking for hidden rooms or things like that."

The Headmaster looked intrigued.

"James, Remus and I... and the rat too, I suppose... we put together a map that showed where things were around the castle."

"Ingenious!"

"I don't know if it captured everything perfectly," he admitted, "but we managed to tie it directly into the castle's magic, so in theory it should be pretty accurate if it works properly."

"That's impressive magic," Frank noted. "I didn't even know you could do something like that!"

"Nor did I," Dumbledore noted. "I hadn't thought that the castle's ambient magic could be manipulated in that way."

Sirius shrugged. "Remus and James did most of the work on that side of things. You might get Remus to tell you how he did it. But I was thinking that it might give you an idea of whether there were any rooms that you had missed or weren't noticed."

"That sounds incredibly useful," the Headmaster agreed. "If nothing else it would help eliminate possibilities. I begin to see how certain, previously unexplained, circumstances might have occurred whilst you were at school."

"Pure coincidence, I'm sure," Sirius said with a grin. "You'd hardly expect me to admit to anything, even at this stage."

Dumbledore grinned back. "Of course not, my boy. Do you happen to have this wondrous map with you?"

Sirius reddened. "Unfortunately, it was confiscated by Mister Filch in my seventh year. I doubt he had any idea what it actually was, since it would just have appeared as a sheet of parchment."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"It was password protected," Sirius explained.

"Ah! I see. And if I'm able to get hold of this piece of parchment, perhaps I could impose on you to show me how it works?"

"I suppose so," he replied reluctantly. It felt a bit wrong giving up one of the Marauders' best secrets to the Headmaster, even having left his direct authority. "I assume you'll call me when you find it?"

"Indeed."

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Wednesday 9th December 1981

Knockturn Alley, London

The dimly-lit bar was exactly what people would have expected from Knockturn Alley. It would have been described as a 'spit and sawdust' pub in muggle England had it actually had the floor swept and the tables given more than a cursory wipe over with a grimy bar towel at the end of the night, and had the lighting been a little better – though the lack of light was probably a mercy to those who might otherwise have noticed how dirty the place was, how grimy the tankards, and the frequency of the unseen insect life.

It's reputation as such a seedy dive kept the more discerning types from visiting – along with the highly dubious nature of the clientele – and although it wasn't where he would have liked to have been meeting this evening, it served the purpose of discretion.

He'd been sure to bring his own drink, carefully switching it for the dubious content of the supposed ale he'd been served as soon as the barman had turned to his next customer, and sat uncomfortably in the corner booth where he expected to be found imminently.

"He must've been lying," his contact hissed quietly as she slid into the seat facing him. "It wasn't there. There wasn't anything like that there."

Her face was shrouded in shadow by the heavily cowled dark robe she wore, but there was no mistaking her voice.

"I even forced my sister into accessing Lucius's private study," she giggled. "Took some of the boy's blood to get in. Wasn't even there."

"You were too slow," he replied quietly. "He'd already turned it over to the Ministry."

"What?"

"They destroyed it yesterday. I was there."

"What! No! They dare? Did they even know how precious it was?"

"Oh yes. Dumbledore himself was there. He and Scrimgeour knew exactly what they had their hands on. Even if they hadn't known it was a Horcrux it would still have been destroyed for its ability to possess its victim."

"Why didn't you stop them?" she hissed.

"I couldn't without forcing the issue and exposing myself. I made pretty robust arguments for 'extended study' but I don't think anyone even paid them the slightest heed. The blood traitors and muggle-lovers were adamant it would be destroyed."

"Our Lord will be avenged!"

"Against Lucius? Not likely. He's already been dealt with. And I see you had your own little bit of fun at his Manor. What's left for him to use as revenge? You've wiped out his family and burned down his home, but it's not like he had any further use for it."

She cackled gleefully. "Oh, but it was so much fun! Poor Cissy was begging and pleading for her son to be spared, just like I heard that Mudblood bitch Potter did. It felt so good. The look on her face as I dropped the boy out of the fourth story window. Ahh, yes!"

His discomfort amped up another notch as he listened to the madwoman casually describing the murder of her nephew and then continuing with a lengthy diatribe on the joys of the subsequent torture of the boy's mother, her own sister.

"Was there something else you needed from me?" he asked abruptly, trying to change the subject.

"Yesss," she hissed. "There's supposedly a Prophecy."

He rolled his eyes. "There are tens of thousands of Prophecies, Bella. You'll have to be more specific."

"About the Dark Lord," she snapped. "And the Potter boy."

"Ooo-kay. When was it given? And who by?"

"I don't know," she said sulkily. "Some time last year, before the boy was born. Snape reckons Dumbledore heard it, but he doesn't know who gave it. Claims he was 'interrupted' before he heard it all. Reckons it had something to do with someone who would 'vanquish' the Dark Lord. We need to know what it said."

He knew it wouldn't matter what it actually said. He'd studied Prophecies for long enough to know that they were always vague, never naming individuals, and even when interpreted after they had supposedly been fulfilled could usually still have had multiple interpretations. He doubted that knowing what this particular one stated would make any odds one way or another, and knew that Bella, and whomever she happened to be taking advice from, would interpret it however they wanted.

"I'll see what I can find out," he promised cautiously.

"You'd better bring me the damn thing," she insisted, "not just 'find out' about it."

"That's not happening," he told her bluntly. "I can't remove a Prophecy from the shelves to hear it. Only someone who gave it, heard it, or whom it's about would even be able to touch it. You'd be better off getting the information from them."

"Find out who gave it, then. That's better odds than trying to get it from Dumbledore."

"I'll see what I can do. There should at least be some identification of the seer, if nothing else."

"Do it. And let me know where I can find them."

With that last instruction, she slid out of her seat and scurried away.

He took one last pull at the drink he'd brought and made a more leisurely exit of his own, so as not to attract quite so much attention. He hoped that Bella wasn't looking for immediate results – sifting through almost a year's worth of Prophecies to find one that matched the description he'd been given would be a laborious process, and doing it surreptitiously would take even longer.

He sighed. A fool's errand in the long run. Whatever this Prophecy said, it wasn't going to bring the Dark Lord back to life. He needed to get personal access to one of the Horcruxes if he were to achieve that and prove his worth to his Master. It was so frustrating to have had his hands on one just the previous day, and to feel what its power could do, but not to be able to take it away with him and unleash it on the world.

===AMCR-AMCR====AMCR-AMCR===

Friday 11th December 1981

Head Auror's Office, Ministry of Magic

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Rufus," Dumbledore said as he entered the Head Auror's office. "I appreciate that you're exceptionally busy right now."

"You're right about that, Headmaster," Scrimgeour replied. "It's been pretty hectic with all the furore over the Death Eater trials, even if most of them are bang to rights based on the testimony of their compatriots and the Wizengamot's decision to allow veritaserum to be used in the courtroom.

"Not only that, but we've got a killer on the loose who seems to be heavily focused on getting to our most prominent suspects before we can get everything out of them we want to."

He wiped his hand over a weary face.

"It's looking more and more like it was an inside job," he added. "But it's not one of the junior Aurors, like it's being made out to be. It's got to be someone senior, with an understanding of the Ministry and access to all the right codes to know when and where to make his move. It's really worrying."

"I understand," Dumbledore replied. "Hopefully I bring you news that lightens your day a little."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Someone I would prefer not to name has come to me with information. The sort of information that might provide us with an opportunity to strike back at the remaining Death Eaters."

Scrimgeour looked suspiciously at Dumbledore over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles.

"Out with it, then, please."

"Very well. I'm advised that earlier this week Bellatrix Lestrange met someone from the Ministry at The Witches' Brew in Knockturn Alley."

"Our inside man, perhaps?" Scrimgeour asked eagerly.

"Maybe so. In any case, my informant indicated that Lestrange was especially interested in a Prophecy concerning the Dark Lord, and was pressuring her contact to get hold of it for her, but failing that, to identify who had spoken it."

"This Prophecy? It's something to do with the Potter boy, isn't it?" the Head Auror asked slyly. "Something about how he managed to defeat the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore wobbled his head ambivalently.

"It might have been," he acknowledged, "but you know as well as I how vague and uncertain Prophecy is, both as a gift and to interpret. Even now, I wouldn't want to commit to that being the case."

"And you warned my Auror against making assumptions of that nature, I note."

"There's little to be gained by such speculation, and much to be lost, especially for young Harry, so I certainly wouldn't want any stories of that nature getting out into the public when they might be far wide of the mark."

"No. I can see plenty of issues with that," Scrimgeour agreed. "You had some idea of how we might use this to our advantage?"

"In two ways, in the best of all worlds. Firstly, if word was to get out to Lestrange of whom the Prophecy was made by, then you might have an opportunity to set up an ambush for her and any more Death Eaters that might accompany her.

"I hesitate to tell you this," he added seriously, "as putting someone deliberately in the way of Bellatrix Lestrange as bait is likely to be very risky.

"But secondly, if you handled the information carefully, it might also give you an idea of who your inside man is. If he has access to privileged information that you have only released to a select few then that may narrow your search down."

The Head Auror gave Dumbledore an inscrutable look.

"Clearly you know who this seer is?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I share your concern about offering them up as bait. Someone as vicious as Lestrange would not hold back, and probably wouldn't stop her torture even after she received the information she sought," he said slowly.

"The bait need not be real," the Headmaster replied.

"Then it would need to be sufficiently genuine-looking, and well-disguised. You'd also need to protect the real Seer pretty heavily"

Dumbledore shrugged gently. "I'm happy to leave the details of the operation to you, and to take your advice on the latter. You're the expert. I had hoped to offer the Seer sanctuary at Hogwarts."

"Good. Glad to hear it. I don't want amateurs messing around in ops like that, even if they have a reputation like yours."

Dumbledore nodded in acquiescence, carefully not mentioning how he and others he had sent had rescued two of his Aurors the last time that he had intervened, nor that the resulting captures had proven very valuable before they were permanently taken out right under the noses of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.

"The seer?" Scrimgeour asked.

Dumbledore pulled a photo out from under his robes and passed it across.

"Sybil Trelawney," he said. "Newly-appointed professor of Divination at Hogwarts – for her protection, of course," he added with a grin.

Scrimgeour looked the photo over and grunted.

"Fairly individual looking," he said. "At least we'll be able to replicate her look and rely a lot on that for camouflage." He gave the headmaster a shrewd look over the top of his glasses. "For you to know about this Prophecy and to have taken the seer under your protection tells me that it was given in your presence."

"It was."

"And you're not prepared to make any guesses as to what it actually means?"

"I don't think that would be wise, dear boy. I did initially think that it might be useful to study it and see if there was any way that it could be circumvented, but even the first line is so ambiguous that it could mean many different things depending on who heard it and what their plans or fears were."

"Nothing at all?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"All I will say is that it concerns a Dark Lord, without referring to any particular one, and that although the timing of its release suggests that it might be referring to Voldemort, it doesn't actually make that clear, nor does it give any timeframe for its completion."

"Hmpff. Not much use then."

"No."

"Very well," Scrimgeour said, slightly dissatisfied. "I'll have a think about how I can use your information."

"That's all I ask," Dumbledore replied. "And, of course, if you have any questions, you know where to find me."

===AMCR-AMCR====AMCR-AMCR===

Wednesday 16th December 1981

Longbottom Hall

Frank Longbottom snarled as he came through the Floo, and stomped off in the direction of his study with barely more than a grunt of greeting to his wife and friend as he passed by the large sitting room where Alice and Sirius were playing with the children.

Sirius was a little bit surprised at this, as Frank was normally very even-tempered and mature and to see him acting rather like Sirius himself might have done when he didn't get his way was a rather unusual occurrence.

They shared a glance of slight alarm.

"I'll go and see what's made him so grumpy this evening," Sirius said, rising from the floor to grumbles from little Harry who had been enjoying a thorough climb over Sirius's body.

He detached himself from Harry and lifted the child into his play pen, where the young boy started to look a little grumpy until Alice lifted Neville in there as well.

"What's up, Frank?" Sirius asked, as he pushed the study door open, to see that his friend was already pouring himself a hefty measure of Firewhiskey.

Seeing Sirius come in, he pulled another glass out and poured one for him, too, before swallowing about half of his original tot in one mouthful. The steam comeing from his ears was fairly comical, but nicely matched the red face that Frank had at the moment.

"Bloody Scrimgeour," he griped.

Sirius waited for his friend to elaborate.

"Some big secret mission going on next week and he won't bring me into it."

"Why's that a problem?"

"It's not like him to be keeping secrets from the Auror Team, Sirius. Normally everyone knows what everyone else's role is and where they're going to be. It makes things easier if any of them get into any trouble," Frank grumbled.

"Must be important, then," Sirius suggested. "Is this something to do with him worried about someone on the inside?"

"Could be," Frank admitted.

"From what I've heard, he's pretty switched on. You'd think he knows what he's doing."

"I suppose so," Frank grumbled again.

"Well, you don't want to get caught in a trap again like you did with the Lestranges, do you?"

"No, definitely not."

"And if he's compartmentalising information, that suggests to me that he's working on who the mole is."

"True. Though if you've figured that out in the last two minutes, presumably whoever's passing the information on's going to realise that, too."

"Maybe, maybe not," Sirius extemporised. "Depends whether anyone else is reacting like you and whether they are showing it to the rest of the Department."

"Shit! That was dumb of me, wasn't it?"

Sirius said nothing, but let his friend stew in silence for a moment or two while he sorted his thoughts out.

"Okay," Frank finally said with a sigh.

Sirius grinned.

"Well, I guess if I'm going to be sat around feeling like I should be doing something, you can tell me what Dumbledore found out with that map of yours. He sounded like he had something of interest?"

The Headmaster had called through the Floo the previous evening to talk to Sirius, and had apparently come up with some interesting news.

"Ah. Yes," Sirius said with a smug smile. "Seems like he's found an extra room in the castle."

"An extra room?"

"Mmm. A magical room."

"In a castle where magic is rife, imagine that," Frank said snidely.

"Ah, but this is even more magical."

"Go on."

"It can be whatever you want it to be – storeroom, classroom, bedroom, whatever."

"Doesn't sound all that magical."

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thought it was important. Said it might have odd implications."

"Yeah, but I know what you'd do with a secret room that could turn into a bedroom at will," Frank teased his friend.

"Chance would be a fine thing," Sirius responded. "I'm not the one married and with a child barely four years out of school."

Frank shrugged. "Not married, but you do have a son now."

"True. As good as, anyway."

"And I have a whole house at my disposal, so not like I need a special magical room for a bedroom."