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SD: CH159 - Mastering The Master
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 07:56:32 +0000 UTCIn the quiet aftermath of that tumultuous lesson on Unforgivable Curses, Albus Dumbledore sat in the cramped office of Mad-Eye Moody. The dark detectors and magical safeguards hummed softly in the background—apparatus that might have frightened an amateur but were, to seasoned war-wizards, little more than baubles. Dumbledore often wondered why Moody kept such devices on display. Perhaps he was simply paranoid, or maybe he used them to lure an overconfident attacker into error. Either way, they hardly mattered tonight.
That evening’s session had taken a turn none had anticipated. The fourth-year students had been the first volunteers for an experiment Moody called “inspired,” before the other years would face its consequences. Dumbledore’s usually twinkling blue eyes now held a deep concern as he surveyed the room. Amelia Bones sat with her arms crossed, every bit the stern Ministry official, while Emmeline lingered at the edge, her posture stiff with unease. Moody, by contrast, appeared entirely unruffled, his magical eye occasionally swiveling to absorb the scene.
Dumbledore regretted Severus’s absence. He had tried to explain that Severus had proven his loyalty time and again—loyalty that now, with Death Eater activity surging, forced him to play dangerous games. But Amelia’s objections had come fast and sharp.
“He has your trust, not mine,” she declared. “Dangerous or not, I could not see all his cards. How do I know he isn’t playing us?”
Dumbledore had almost pressed the matter further, tempted to reveal more about Harry Potter’s hidden strengths, but he held back. Such probing might have shattered the fragile peace following the latest disaster.
Of course, openly accusing and setting them up to reveal their allegiances were too different things.
“Alastor, I must confess, today's demonstration was more intense than I anticipated,” he said in a measured tone edged with disapproval.
Moody grunted and leaned back in his creaking chair. “The lesson had to hit home, Albus. These children must learn what they’re up against. We cannot coddle them.”
Amelia snapped back, “There was a fine line between education and recklessness, Moody. They were fourth-year students—not Auror rookies. Casting a real Killing Curse, even as a demonstration, crossed that line. This is Hogwarts, not a battlefield.”
Moody’s enchanted eye fixed on her with a glare that silenced further debate, and Albus raised his hand in a gesture of quiet plea. “I understood the gravity of our preparations, but we must also consider the psychological impact. Today’s session left the students frightened, angry—even traumatized.”
Emmeline nodded. “I’ve spoken to some of the students. They were genuinely frightened. Harry Potter, in particular, seemed deeply affected by the demonstration.”
“Deeply affected?” Amelia snorted. “He faced a killing curse head-on in the middle of a class. Who wouldn’t be affected?”
“I was present there,”said Albus.
“Just like the debacles over the past three years, I reckon.”
Albus winced. He should have known that Harry would have shared his perspective on the past events, both the ones in the recent years and the ones ‘in his future’.
A murmur had rippled through the room. Dumbledore murmured, “Every decision I made regarding Harry was meant to keep him safe.”
“Forgive me if I doubt your motives,” Amelia shot back. “Even if they were pure, Harry Potter is just one among hundreds. I have seen Susan’s account of the last three years—though it is no doubt embellished by inexperience. After the recent disaster, we cannot risk another debacle, especially with the Triwizard looming.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose. “And what do you propose?”
“Privately conducted interviews,” Amelia replied curtly. “Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to begin with,” said Amelia. “All three of them have been at the center of the issues over the last three years. Then, the students from their year. And then the other years.”
“That would take a lot of time.”
“Which is why Emmeline and I would like to request rooms at Hogwarts for the coming week. If tonight’s discussion ends well, Moody will repeat these sessions with the other years. I can have the interviews and Emmeline can assess how these sessions affect the student body. With your permission, I would like to set up a private office attached to my quarters. My assistant Hestia Jones can act as relay between here and the Ministry.”
“I did not think the DMLE Director could afford to stay away from her office for an entire week.”
“And I didn’t expect the Chief Warlock to attempt to hide his follies behind the cogs of bureaucracy, but here we are.”
“I think we might be digressing from the topic?” said Emmeline, ever the peacekeeper, ignoring the glares Amelia was sending him. Alastor on the other hand, was enjoying himself, already having drunk twice from his hip-flask during the little heated discussion.
“I ran subtle legilimency forays on the students. Almost every single one of them was horrified by the underlying concept of the killing curse.”
“Almost?” asked Amelia.
“Some of them come from Death-eater families,” said Emmeline. “It is likely they have seen their family members cast the curse on something, perhaps stray animals or even lesser creatures.”
“Or people,” growled Moody.
“Perhaps,” Emmeline shrugged. “But I am not supposed to run those forays legally in the first place. And deeper investigation would require a warrant. And without concrete evidence…”
“The Wizengamot is already in an uproar,” said Albus. “Such an action would incite more problems than it would likely solve.”
Amelia frowned, but nodded.
“What I am more concerned about is Potter’s reaction,” said Emmeline. “Official record says that after the obvious event in 1981, this was his first time facing the killing curse. Yet his reaction was… fast. And visceral.”
“He did face werewolves and Death Eaters during the attack,” supplied Amelia.
Emmeline nodded.
Albus took a moment to marvel at their theatrics. He knew perfectly well that Harry had faced and done far more than fighting Death Eaters and werewolves on that accursed night. Given the entire debacle with Nymphadora, the two women probably even suspected that Albus knew of their shifted loyalties. And yet, both of them nonchalantly pretended like nothing was amiss.
“Pisswater,” claimed Alastor. “The lad has had someone cast the Unforgivables and other curses at him. Repeatedly.”
“How do you know that, Alastor?” Albus asked quietly.
“He didn’t even flinch when I cast it. All the rest of them, scared as can be. Him? Didn’t so much as blink during the Imperius.”
“He did follow your commands,” said Amelia.
Alastor barked out a laugh. “Ah, that one. I dunno what’s worse, that the brat can resist the Imperius without batting an eye, or that he’s got the balls to mock me in front of the class.”
Albus raised an eyebrow.
“T’was weird, Albus. One moment, my spell hits him, nice and proper. Next, it gets all loose like the whores in Knockturn Alley—”
“Language!”
“—and then it tightens up again, and the boy follows my command,” Alastor finished unabashedly. “Imagine my surprise.”
“You’re telling me he was faking an imperius,” Albus mused.
“Dunno. It’s possible he was faking it. It’s possible my spell might’ve fizzled in the middle. It’s also possible that some Boy-Who-Lived thingy happened when I cast the curse at him. But I can tell you this. There was no hesitation. No stiffening. Not even the slightest struggle. Weird, no?”
Albus stroked his beard slowly. Even assuming that he was faking it was good and bad news. Good, because such precision and resistance against the Imperius suggested a strong and well-fortified mind. On the other extreme, it could potentially suggest a complete conquest by a third-party, but in that case, he doubted Lord Voldemort would pander to the little niceties and frivolous activities Harry seemed too inclined to make. It was a very, very laid back style of gameplay, and not one that Voldemort would prefer.
On the other hand, if any of the other possibilities were at work then…
His thoughts went back to Severus’s warnings about the sudden darkening of the Dark Mark, twice in the last week. The first was during the attack at the World Cup, coinciding with the public casting of the Dark Mark in the sky. Severus claimed that someone was drawing on the power of all Marked Death-Eaters to perform something, using a spell that was known only to the Inner Circle. With the DMLE in tatters, chaos reigning rampant, and the werewolves attacking alongside Death Eaters, Albus could not fathom a need for someone to cast it.
Interestingly, Harry Potter was performing necromancy on Amelia Bones right then. Albus was no expert in that discipline, far from it, but even he knew that rescuing a soul that had escaped the mortal body was no mere feat, and required a sacrifice on the same, if not greater levels.
Harry had already displayed his ability to control necromantic power to a degree, having used it publicly to save Miss Granger after nearly killing her accidentally. Had he drawn on Voldemort’s memories to gain the spell to drain the Death Eaters and use their power to fuel his necromancy?
It was merely a theory, but not without its merits.
The second darkening of the Dark Mark had occurred just two days later, on the night of the party. As per her memories, Harry, alongside Amelia and Emmeline Vance, had attacked Voldemort’s quarters, but the boy had stayed from revealing anything further.
No Dark Marks. No Necromancy. Or at least, nothing that Emmeline or Hestia had ‘informed’ him, assuming they even would.
And yet, he could not openly charge them with anything. Not without spoiling Nymphadora’s secret.
It was a twisted stalemate where both parties had little to gain and everything to lose if they attempted to clear the air. Despite clearly knowing what cards the other side held, they chose to play an oblivious game of theatricality and protocol.
At least until he was completely sure of Harry’s intentions. Or his state. And powers. And the inexplicable way in which he was twisting the paths of Destiny.
“There is also the bit where he chewed you out, Albus,” smirked Alastor.
“More the reason for conducting the interviews,” Amelia harped.
“I suppose that can be arranged,” said Albus, frowning. Personally, he was getting rankled by the Ministry’s constant interference. First with the tournament, then Harry’s ‘future revelations’ and now all of this. “However, I shall have to be present —”
“Unacceptable!”
“They are students, Amelia,” said Albus. “Minors. I cannot in good faith allow them to —”
“You are not allowing them anything,” the DMLE Director corrected him sharply. “It’s an interview, not an interrogation. Whatever they desire to reveal, or not to reveal, is at their behest. I will not conduct it under duress.”
“Duress?” Albus challenged. “I’m the Headmaster of this school. It’s my right to know if my students have any issues.”
“As you should. But if the students have something to speak against you and this school, we can’t expect them to talk with you present there. That would be the definition of duress.”
“I’d think that if my students have a problem with me, they’d come to me directly.”
“Then, by your own admission, there should be nothing to worry about the interviews.”
Albus frowned, knowing a lost cause when he saw one.
“What I am more interested in is Mr. Mal — Rosier,” Emmeline corrected herself. “In all my years of experience, I have never seen anyone react to the Imperius like that.”
Albus swept his gaze over her to Alastor and then to Amelia and back to the old auror. From everyone’s expressions, they were equally mystified. “What can you say, Alastor?”
“I dunno,” said Moody, his magical eye spinning madly. “It was like… he was waiting for something.”
“For what?”
“No clue,” said the Auror. “At least with Potter I knew my curse was bested, or was for a moment. He was in control. But with that brat, it felt like I was hitting a log. As if there was an extra factor that my curse didn’t touch. I reckon the brat’s wearing some kind of dark object on his person.”
Albus stroked his beard slowly and sighed audibly. “Likely from his guardian. Vinda Rosier had the habit of dabbing in mystical artefacts even back then. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave him an enchantment to protect his mind.”
“An unnecessary problem that would’ve been solved if only Harry Potter hadn’t stopped the case from getting registered,” Amelia half-growled.
Albus exchanged a careful glance with Alastor. When Amelia was at Hogwarts, she was a trigger-happy spitfire, someone that people crossed at their own peril. But ever since she joined the Hit-wizard Corps, her behaviour had taken a hundred and eighty degree turn, turning her into a frighteningly composed individual, diligence and pragmatism made manifest. The death of her family, and the Potters, with whom she was remarkably close, obviously affected her adversely, but Amelia had used that grief to transform into a beacon of perseverance and sheer competency, rising up the ranks until she sat at the apex of the military ladder.
But now, that old spitfire was beginning to show itself once again, and Albus was worried it was a side-effect of whatever necromancy Harry Potter had used on her.
He had paid careful attention when she had entered Hogwarts earlier during the day. Not for the first time, he cursed his prior decision to deactivate some of the more esoteric wards of the castle to bring in the Mirror of Erised to capture Voldemort. Not only had that failed spectacularly, Nicholas’s Philosopher’s Stone had been destroyed as a result. He had told Harry that Nicholas and Perenelle had decided to destroy the Stone and embrace the next great adventure, to spare him from unnecessary guilt, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Why had Quirinus immolated by Harry’s touch? While he would be the first to tol the power of Love, especially unconditional love, it did not explain exactly why Lily’s sacrifice created a power so potent and terrible that it stopped the killing curse and destroyed Voldemort’s body. Had she come across something during her work at the Chamber of Destiny? Was that what manifested as a latent energy inside Harry’s body? Or was this ‘time-travelling’ variant responsible for the erratic shifts in Destiny’s paved paths?
It was like the more he tried to seek answers, all he got were more questions.
“What would you have me to do, Amelia?” he asked baldly.
“Keep a close eye on Draco Rosier. Utilize Auror Tonks’s abilities to decipher what he is up to. His rivalry with Harry Potter is an open secret, and the recent events have only worsened things. What’s to say that Vinda Rosier isn’t using the brat as a tool against Potter.”
As opposed to keeping an eye on Harry? Albus mused. “Are you certain you’re not allowing your current role as the Potter regent to eclipse the neutrality the DMLE Director needs to operate under?”
Amelia looked at him with disbelief. Albus was suddenly aware of the anger in her dark eyes. It was like a potion simmering in a cauldron; one wrong ingredient and the whole thing would explode.
“I’m perfectly aware of my duties as the Director, Albus,” she seethed. “It is because of said duties that I am choosing to interview the students instead of directly interrogating you over poor management of Hogwarts over the last three years.”
“I have never —”
“Never?” Amelia challenged. “You openly mentioned the third-floor corridor during the welcoming feast. Declaring something a no—go area to children is like waving a red flag to a bull. I know James would have been up to the third-floor that very night.”
“Amelia, it is essential for an educator to allow his students to make mistakes and get burned from them. The lessons we learn from experience shape us far more than those learned in the classroom.”
“And what life-lesson were you aiming to teach them with a XXXX beast on the other side of a door charmed with a basic locking spell?”
Albus sighed heavily. “It was meant as a —”
“Trap for Voldemort? In a school full of children under your care, Headmaster? You hid the Philosopher’s stone at Hogwarts; forcibly licensed the entry of a Grade-4 dark artefact into the Hogwarts halls, and used James’s son, Harry Potter, as bait for one of the darkest wizards in British history; and you did it inside a place that is supposed to be the safest place in the entire nation. Tell me again, how do you put your student’s safety above your personal goals, Headmaster Dumbledore?”
Dear Merlin; the boy really had talked about his adventures.
“You accused my Potter regency of clouding my neutrality as DMLE Director. Let me assure you, Albus, that if not for neutrality, I’d have already put you into custody, instead of interviewing other students, when Harry has supplied me with memories of the last three years.”
“What are you truly after, Amelia? We both know that after the recent fiasco, the public and press are eating out of young Harry’s mind. I’m certain between everything Harry has told you, even Cornelius would not be averse to pushing me out of the Headmaster’s position. But I assure you that everything I have done has always been in Harry’s interests.”
“You know, I think you actually believe that.”
The reply disconcerted Albus.
“You really don’t see your mistakes as mistakes but perfectly fine decisions,” Amelia said, exhaling. “It’s truly pointless to argue with you then. Headmaster, if you would be so kind as to provide us with the required lodging premises in this castle, we can continue with our work. If not, I can ask my assistant to come back with a Ministry warrant, and set up an interview bench at Hogwarts. Or barring that, ask her to prepare a press statement citing your treating the castle as your personal fiefdom.”
“That is beneath you, Amelia.”
“Director Bones, if you please, Headmaster.”
Both glared at each other. Neither wanted to step down.
Alastor on the other hand, kept on watching.
“Professor Dumbledore,” said Emmeline. “I have to ask, just why are you intent on resisting these interviews? Or us, residing in this castle, for that matter? All we want to do is find the vulnerabilities that you might have ignored, accidentally or otherwise. We are on the same side.”
She met his eyes meaningfully.
Are we? Albus wondered, thinking of Harry’s words and his proclaimed agenda. But on the other hand, the more resistant he offered, the more he would push this Harry into thinking he was the same person he knew. Also, it might give him a better idea of where both women stood with Harry. Hmmm… Perhaps an armistice could be reached midway…
He frowned. “I’ll ask some of the Hogwarts elves to prepare some rooms for you. But I’ll tell you this. If you attempt to threaten me again, I shall not be lenient next time,” he finished coldly.
“We won’t have to,” said Amelia. “Next time, Harry is attacked in your castle, he’ll be advised to react back with lethal force. And I will be right there, with a Ministry warrant claiming your removal. I am the Potter Regent after all. It’s my responsibility to take care of the Family Lord.”
There was silence in the room as Amelia’s parting comment hung in the air. Both women walked out of the door, leaving Albus exhaling slowly, letting the silence hang.
“Albus,” asked Alastor slowly. “Just what are you doing?”
Albus reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I’m trying to keep from repeating… or perhaps, making mistakes I might make in the near future.”
“Are you?” asked Alastor, tilting his head. “Because from my perspective, you’re just making stupid moves.”
Albus stroked his beard and sat down with a sigh, wondering how much to reveal.
“I know you told me there was a chance the boy might be possessed by the Dark Lord. Well, he’s definitely not possessed. He might be an imposter, but if he is, he’s a damn good one. But I feel like there is much that you are not telling me about the boy. I can’t help you unless I know what to look for.”
Dumbledore leaned back into his chair. For a moment, he thought about casting warding charms, but this was Mad-Eye Moody’s office. Anything that could get past his paranoia would definitely get past his own.
“What are your impressions of the Potter child?”
A darkness marred the grizzly auror’s features, twisting them even further. “The boy is a killer. Oh he hides it well, better than any of your Slytherins, but anyone with eyes can see him for what he is. Honestly, I’d have pegged him to be an imposter.”
“If only things were that simple…”
“It never is,” growled Moody. “I’ve killed my fair share of people, Albus. And sometimes, killing is a necessity. But there’s a difference between killing for pleasure and killing to protect or survive.”
“And what is he?”
Alastor met his gaze. “The boy is a monster.”
Albus had no response to that.
“But he’s a monster you can work with. He’ll try to limit casualties, not because he worries about the people that might get hurt, but because he doesn’t want to draw attention and complicate his own plans. He’ll stay down, not because he wants to protect innocents, but because the peace means his own people won’t get killed or in trouble either. He’ll probably even help you, or the others, not because it’s the right thing to do, but because he knows it will help him in the end.”
Albus nodded slowly. Alright. He could work with that.
Harry wasn’t being possessed, or had suddenly turned into a twisted psychopath. He was still consistent with the image Nymphadora painted of him. A war-hardened veteran, much like Alastor himself, choosing to make the difficult choices to suit his own agendas. They might be selfish, might result in bloodshed and chaos, but in the end, it was aimed for the greater good of those they cared about.
As Alastor put it, Harry Potter might just as well be a monster, but he was a monster he could reasonably predict. Compared to the likes of the others he had faced, that was a good deal.
“A monster that is brazen enough to fake being under the imperius?”
Alastor gave him a slow look.
It was the sort of look he was used to giving others, so finding himself at the receiving end of the same treatment felt nauseous.
“Brazen?” laughed Alastor. “I suppose you might say that, because you’re missing the subtleties he has demonstrated. He has not been brash about seeking out conflict with others, and has instead focussed on his studies and trying his best to suck up to Flitwick and Babbling. I do not know what his goals are, but he’s being remarkably cunning about it. Cunning enough to manipulate even you, Albus.”
“How so?”
There was that slow look again.
“What do you think happened here, just moments ago?”
“Amelia showed us that she has chosen to side with Harry, despite his chaotic agenda. Even if it risks the stability of our nation.”
The auror took a sip from his hip-flask and gave him a long-suffering look.
“You invited those two lasses here from the Ministry under the pretext of these sessions, just so that you could catch them with their hands in the cookie jar. You expected them to react when I cast the killing curse at the brat, or worse, panic when I placed him under the imperius. You expected to hold them by their cunts and have them play ball. You knew it, they knew it, and they knew that you knew it. As did Potter. And what did he do? He twisted the entire setting into a narrative that shifts the focus on you.”
Albus frowned. Alastor’s words made sense. If Harry had shown Amelia his memories of the events of the last three years, then there was little she needed to build a case against Albus over mismanagement and abuse of his position at Hogwarts. With the current climate, she might not even have to work that hard to twist things in a way that ended up with him looking like a misguided, crazy man at best, and a nefarious villain at worst.
In that light, collecting more ‘evidence’ from the other students would gain her little other than to….
It hit him like a bolt of lightning.
“It…can’t… be.”
He remembered Harry’s expression when Alastor had cast the Imperius on him. The absence of resistance had felt almost… lazy. It was like he was playing out just out of mockery. He remembered the visceral hatred oozing out of his words when he had made Dumbledore the object of his frustrations. Finally, he remembered how he had both captivated and horrified the entire class with his experience of being under the cruciatus, indirectly painting Malfoy like a rabid beast, turning all public perception against young Draco.
And he did it without a single bad word or accusation.
“Of course.”
So this was how it felt. He, Albus Dumbledore, had been the one playing on a rather small board, focussed only on a tiny corner. He had aimed to set up a trap for Harry, and Harry had used his little plan to give Amelia a greater bargaining chip.
Albus snickered.
Just like Albus had no way of proving that Amelia and Emmeline and the others were involved with Harry in a devious plan to destroy the nation’s peace without giving up Nymphadora, Harry had no way of proving that Nymphadora had somehow revealed what she knew from him, and used it to his advantage. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that he revealed the information just to ensure that it would reach Albus that night.
He snickered again.
“...Albus?”
It was funny, to think, that Harry Potter had used Albus’s own behaviour against him. He had expected, no, he had counted on him finding some way to gain information out of Nymphadora Tonks. It didn’t matter if he gained it from some future experience. It didn’t matter if he knew Albus to such a terrifying level as to predict his reaction. It didn’t matter if he knew of Tonks’s former double persona — in the end, all that mattered was that Harry had thrown the bait and he, Albus Dumbledore, had taken it.
Hook, line and sinker.
Another snicker escaped his lips.
All these years — sixteen, was it? Yes, sixteen years since the fall of Voldemort since the events of 1981. Sixteen years of staying deluded and assured in his power and knowledge that his own power to predict the future would never do him wrong. Had he become that arrogant since his defeat of Grindelwald that he had forgotten what being bested by a better opponent felt like?
Albus laughed.
Peace has made me weak, he thought sardonically, appreciating the irony. Victory has defeated me.
He laughed.
Relentlessly and hysterically, he laughed and laughed and laughed at the sheer mad irony of it all. He laughed to the point that Alastor probably wondered if he had gone mad.
Well played, Harry Potter. Well played.
Comments
Oscar Jaramillo Villela
Yeah i don't see it either
Eric Green
Ch160?
JustAFan
This chapter is very similar to a ares flamel fanfiction chapter :)
