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AFiF 4, Chapter 23: The Cellar
🕑 Added 2024-10-28 09:47:43 +0000 UTCXXIII. The Cellar
A clear night sky hung above him, black as Harry’s hair. A Friday winter evening in France was a stark contrast to one back home; for what must’ve been the first time, Harry felt uncomfortably warm beneath his thick robes.
I could get used to this.
He stepped out from the Hogwarts Express, blowing his breath into the air. He smiled, hopping into the luscious grass.
“Going somewhere, Harry?”
His smile fell.
Long, silvery hair glimmered like the stars high above. Harry said nothing as Professor Dumbledore strode toward him, an unreadable look etched across his face.
“Are you here to expel me?”
The headmaster frowned.
“That remains to be seen,” he said softly, “But, for now, no.”
He stepped out from the shade cast by the Hogwarts Express, the crescent moon bathing him in an ethereal glow. Harry shifted uncomfortably.
“The stone, then?”
The stone,” Dumbledore nodded sagely. He came to a stop just to Harry’s side. Though Harry was by no means a short boy, the man towered over him. “How did you come to discover it?”
Harry frowned.
“Durmstrang,” he said eventually, “In the Scarlet Tower.”
“Go on.”
“There was a room,” Harry continued slowly, “One not even the High Order could enter.”
“Yet you could, I presume.”
Harry nodded.
“Just me and two others.”
“Two others,” the headmaster frowned, “And who might they be?”
Harry’s heart stopped. He straightened up.
“Klaus Nagel and Gellert Grindelwald.”
Silence fell upon them. Harry fought the urge to turn, to look up into the eyes of the Hogwarts Headmaster. After what felt like forever, the man spoke.
“Klaus Nagel.”
Harry nodded uncertainly.
“He was there, at the island in Egypt,” he murmured, “He said he was one of Grindelwald’s acolytes.”
“Acolytes?” Dumbledore repeated. Harry nodded.
“They know where the stone is,” he said nervously, “I - I have to find it.”
Silence stretched again. He waited - first for a minute, then two. By three, Harry stepped away.
“Er - I’ve got somewhere to be, Headmaster -”
“He’s using you.”
Harry turned around.
“Sorry?”
Albus Dumbledore was staring at him. The usually imposing or perhaps oddly cheerful man looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“Gellert,” the headmaster repeated, “he’s taking you for a fool.”
Harry’s jaw clenched.
“Probably,” he admitted quietly, “But he has the stone.”
“He claims to.”
Harry shifted.
“That’s enough,” he barked, “That’s a path to follow. A possibility worth exploring -”
“A path paved by Gellert,” Dumbledore whispered, “It will not take you where you wish to go.”
“Well, I can’t be sure if I don’t find out,” said Harry stubbornly, walking away.
Besides, Grindelwald’s been imprisoned for half a century now.
“But I can be, Harry,” Dumbledore called sadly from somewhere behind him, “For I know him far better than you, do I not?”
Harry frowned. He slowly turned around, facing the old man.
“And what do you think?”
“I think I could not have beaten Grindelwald all those years ago had he not wanted me to.”
Harry stared at him.
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not,” said Dumbledore clearly, “I was a shade more skillful, I believe, but he wielded the Elder Wand. Moreover, he wielded my affections in a way I could never wield his.”
Harry stepped toward him.
“What are you saying?”
“Little more than fact,” Dumbledore murmured, “You may choose to interpret it as you wish.”
“You think Grindelwald’s trying to toy with me.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
Harry grit his teeth in frustration.
“Whatever,” he spat, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been used as a pawn before -”
It’s hardly a change of pace.
“It may not matter to you,” the headmaster frowned, “but Gellert has never been one to dream small. You will not be the only one to suffer should you walk this path.”
“It doesn't matter,” Harry decided, “It can save Astoria.”
“Astoria,” Dumbledore paused, “I was unaware you were close.”
“She’s my best friend’s younger sister,” Harry replied simply.
That kind of makes her mine, too.
Dumbledore’s lips thinned.
“I see now,” he murmured, “It is as it always has been: about family.”
Harry looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“Save a sister,” he said simply, “not far off from saving a mother.”
Harry bristled angrily.
“I’m not trying to resurrect them -“
“Not now,” Dumbledore agreed, “perhaps not now. But time and power changes everything -”
“You and I are two very different people,” Harry reminded him angrily.
“Perhaps,” the headmaster murmured, “Yet history has a habit of repeating itself.”
“Are you going to try and stop me?”
“No,” Dumbledore sighed, “Nor do I believe I truly could.”
“Brilliant,” Harry smiled tightly, “In that case, I really ought to get going. Until tomorrow.”
And with a solemn wave, he turned around, heading off toward the outskirts of the Beauxbatons grounds. Thin blades of grass crumpled beneath him as he strode angrily toward the river along the end of the grounds.
I have to try. I have to do something -
“Harry?”
He spun wildly, his wand glowing a horrid red. The girl shrieked.
“Pansy?” Harry sputtered, staring at the dark-haired girl laying amongst the grass, “What - what are you doing out here?”
“Stargazing,” the girl said simply. He watched as she brushed a thin layer of dirt from her robes, “You don’t see nights as clear as this back home.”
“No, I suppose you don’t,” Harry murmured. He paused, “I thought you wanted to look at the stars from the Beauxbatons Observatory?”
Pansy blinked.
“You remembered,” she whispered, “But I told you that before we even left Hogwarts.”
“Why wouldn’t I remember?” Harry frowned.
Pansy shrugged.
“My friends never do.”
“Who, you mean Malfoy?” Harry’s eyebrows rose. Pansy glared at him.
“None of your business.”
“Right,” Harry sighed, “Why aren’t you at the Observatory, then?”
Pansy huffed hauntily.
“Because the French twats wouldn’t let me,” she hissed, “Said only students who’ve completed select courses are permitted. And, since I’m not enrolled at Beauxbatons, I obviously haven’t taken any of the courses -”
“Then tell them that,” Harry frowned.
“I did. They didn’t care.”
Harry stared at her for a long moment.
“Did you do something?”
“No!” Pansy snapped, “I’m not an arse, believe it or not -”
News to me, seeing the company she keeps.
“Right, well, I’ve got places to be,” Harry smiled, “So, I wish you well -”
“Where are you going?” asked Pansy pointedly.
Harry grinned.
“None of your business.”
Crack.
-(xXx)-
“You’re late.”
“You look stupid,” Harry murmured, sitting opposite a dark-skinned boy with short, blonde hair, “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
White and gold walls surrounded them. The pair sat in a booth in the corner of the Cellar, the Elitist Club Harry had frequented only once before. Intricate patterns were inlaid along the walls, depicting flowers with peeling petals. Most of the bar’s inhabitants were crowded around a stage near the center. Two tall masked fighters stood at either end, sparks flying from their wands.
How quaint.
Without Cerise to accompany him, Harry felt significantly more out of place than he would’ve expected.
“It’d be hard to explain what I’m doing so far from Hogwarts,” Nott said, sighing, “You’ve no idea how hard it was to get here.”
“Trust me, I definitely do,” Harry muttered, “There were Anti-Apparition wards all over this place. I bounced right off them the first time I tried apparating over.”
He pulled the neckline of his robes down to prove it. Heavy bruising marred his pale skin.
“You fucking idiot.” the now dark-skinned boy whispered, “After our stint in Egypt did you really think they’d leave this place defenseless?”
“I forgot,” Harry murmured sheepishly.
“Well, think next time,” Nott advised. His eyes widened suddenly as he stared at something behind Harry, “Throw your hood up.”
Harry hastily did as instructed. Not a second later a pretty witch in thin, sultry robes stepped toward their booth.
“Anything to drink?” she asked, staring curiously at Nott. Harry became painfully aware of just how underage Nott looked.
“Water is fine.”
“I’ll take a milkshake,” Harry added, “Chocolate, please.”
Nott stared at him. Harry winced.
“Er - you do have those, right?”
“Of course, monsieur,” the witch smiled, “I will be back momentarily.”
And she turned away, heading to the far end of the room and past a grand set of double doors. Nott rounded on him.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“It hardly matters,” Harry sighed, “You don’t exactly look of age, and you don’t sound particularly French.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Theodore snapped irritably, “We’re in a secret bar known only by the magical French Elite. They don’t drink milkshakes, you fucking retard -”
“I forgot,” Harry mumbled, “I - that’s what most people back where I’m from drink. I was trying to seem normal.”
“Well, do a better job.”
Harry nodded, altering his features with a wave of his wand. He threw up Anti-Eavesdropping wards a second later.
“Much better,” Nott nodded approvingly, “Now spill.”
Harry frowned.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” said Nott quickly, “But we can start with the stones. Both of them.”
Harry nodded slowly.
“The Resurrection Stone is exactly what it sounds like,” he said, “The one from the famous Tale of the Three Brothers.”
Nott sighed.
“That’s a fairy tale, Harry,” Nott began. Harry quickly shook his head.
“It isn’t,” he argued quickly, “They’re all real. Dumbledore has the wand and I have the cloak.”
Nott’s eyes bulged.
“Your - your Invisibility Cloak -”
Harry nodded.
“Makes sense, when you think about it,” he noted, “If it really did belong to my father before me, it’s got to be at least fourteen years old. That’s more than twice the lifespan of your average cloak.”
He watched as the gears turned in Nott’s head. After a long moment, the boy spoke.
“Does the Resurrection Stone work, then?”
Harry shrugged.
“No idea,” he admitted, “But there’s only one real way to be sure.”
“Maybe,” Nott murmured, “What about the other stone.”
“Grindelwald’s,” Harry nodded, “It was his attempt at recreating the Resurrection Stone. We both saw it, remember? The sapphire from the memory Moody showed us at the start of term.”
Theo stared at him.
“I - are you sure it works?”
“No,” Harry shook his head, “But Nagel hinted it might. It’s worth exploring.”
“We’ll need to see Moody’s memory again, in that case,” Nott muttered, “I don’t exactly remember what Grindelwald said about the stone.”
“Neither do I,” Harry admitted, “Besides, it’d be best to learn as much as we can about the place he left it.”
Nott froze.
“Shit. He dropped it during the fight, didn’t he?”
Harry nodded eagerly.
“You - you can’t get your hopes up,” Nott reminded him, “For all we know, it’s an imperfect copy -”
“But it’s a start,” Harry noted, “Something worth looking into.”
Nott nodded.
“I can try to ask Moody to see the memory,” he decided aloud, “Now . . . the flower.”
Harry shrugged.
“I don’t know much about it,” he said, “Just that it used to belong to the High Order, and that Grindelwald stole it from them. It’s supposed to let people look into the future. It’s called the Midnight Rose.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Nagel frowned, “Grindelwald’s a seer. What does he need the flower for?”
Harry shrugged.
“Dumbledore reckons Grindelwald wasn’t always a seer,” he noted quietly.
Nott paused.
“That goes in line with what Nagel said,” he whispered, “Remember? That bit about Grindelwald not always having a grey eye?”
Harry nodded. He glanced over at Nott.
“You don’t think he took the flower’s power, do you?”
“What, gave himself the ability to see into the future?” Nott’s brows rose, “No, I don’t. I doubt that’s even possible.”
“It is Grindelwald we’re talking about,” Harry reminded him pointedly, “And as far as I can tell, Grindelwald was the last person to possess the rose.”
“Then it’s probably destroyed, lost, or in the hands of the Ministry,” Nott surmised.
“I don’t think it’s destroyed,” Harry frowned, “The Truest seemed to think it was still out there, somewhere.”
Nott frowned.
“The Truest,” he repeated, “That’s the leader of the High Order, right?”
Harry nodded, shifting uncomfortably. All the talk of the future had dragged up disturbing memories.
Luna . . .
“Theo,” Harry began, “What are the odds of Luna being a seer?”
“Lovegood?” Nott said, bewildered, “Harry, you can’t be serious -”
“I - just listen,” Harry sounded frustrated, “She - she says she keeps having nightmares of Astoria dying.”
Nott looked as if he were going to be sick.
“That hardly means anything -”
“She saw visions of Grindelwald too,” Harry noted, “And ever since, he’s been popping up everywhere.”
If possible, Nott’s dark skin paled further.
“I - I - well,” Nott stammered, “It’s the Lovegoods we’re talking about, you’ve got to remember.”
“Maybe,” Harry murmured, “But I can’t help but worry.”
Nott nodded.
“If you’re worried, it’s Blood Magic you should look into,” Theo suggested, “All this resurrection rubbish will only be worthwhile if - if - you know -”
“Yeah, I know,” Harry snapped. Nott grimaced, “And I have looked into Blood Magic. It’s fucking miserable.”
“It’d prove a better solution to Astoria’s illness than the stone. More honed, more specific -”
“No.” said Harry pointedly, “It has to be the stone.”
Nott stared at him.
“Why?”
“It just does.”
“Why?”
Harry’s jaw clenched. Across from him, Nott eyed him speculatively.
“You know, I think I know what’s going on -”
“One water and one chocolate milkshake,” the two jumped as the witch in scanty white robes returned. She sent Harry an alluring smile, “You two let me know if you need anything else before the next match starts.”
“Right, thank you,” Harry nodded, taking his glass from the woman. She smiled cheerfully before heading away. He watched as she left, “Terrifying, that one -”
“Forget about her,” Nott hissed, “I’m much more concerned about this resurrection business. More specifically, why you’re so obsessed with the stone.”
Harry frowned.
“What about it?”
“Oh, nothing,” Nott said innocently, “I just think I know why you find the stone more alluring.”
Harry’s grasp around his glass tightened.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
Nott shrugged.
“Blood Magic can cure Astoria, sure, but it can’t resurrect your parents.”
Harry’s eyes glowed a harsh emerald beneath his hood. Nott grit his teeth.
“Control yourself or you’ll get us both in trouble,” he hissed.
Harry’s lips thinned. He sent one last glare at Nott before looking down, taking a long swig from his milkshake. His eyes dimmed.
“Luna’s visions show Astoria dying within a few years at most,” Harry said, his voice low, “I won’t put all my eggs in the Blood Magic basket. It isn’t secure enough.”
“And I’m not asking you to,” Nott said after a long moment, “I’m just asking you to open your eyes to all possible solutions.”
Harry nodded, taking another swig from his drink.
“So what’s the plan?” he said, staring at Nott, “I assume you’re going to ask Moody to have another peek at his memory?”
“Yeah, I will,” Theo said slowly, “And both of us are going to look into Blood Magic.”
“I already am,” said Harry sharply, “That’s two different solutions. Covering both bases.”
Nott nodded.
“And what about the flower?”
Harry frowned.
“What about it?”
“Well, aren’t we going to look into it?” Nott asked, “It’s clearly connected to Grindelwald in some way.”
Harry thought for a long moment. The faint flickering image of Albus Dumbledore popped into his head.
“No,” he decided, “Not unless we have to.”
Not unless it’s related to the stone.
-(xXx)-
“You seem preoccupied.”
Harry turned from where he lay in the grass. Flawless skin, alluring eyes, and silver hair stared back at him, glimmering beneath the stars in the night sky.
“I suppose I am,” Harry admitted.
Gabrielle sat up.
“If you’re busy, we can do this another time,” the girl said quickly, “We don’t have to -”
“Gabrielle, I want to,” Harry whispered, “I came to you, didn’t I? I like being around you.”
The girl paused for a long moment before nodding in surprise. She slowly lay back down in the grass, returning her gaze to the stars. Harry stared at her.
“You don’t have many friends, do you?”
The girl’s jaw clenched.
“I don’t have any,” she corrected quietly.
“Why’s that?” Harry asked.
Gabrielle turned to him. Grass bent as her smooth skin pressed against it.
“I don’t like the way they treat me,” she said after a long moment, “Like I’m some sort of object. I’d rather just be alone.”
“I don’t think you’re an object,” Harry whispered.
“I know, Harry,” she said softly, “You’d be surprised how rare that is.”
Harry shook his head.
“They treat me like that sometimes,” he whispered, “They see the boy-who-lived and not Harry. The same way they see a perfect, pretty Veela but not Gabrielle.”
The silver-haired girl frowned.
“And what do you see?”
Harry turned. Her eyes, blue as the river, stared into his own.
“I see a passionate, lively girl who doesn’t believe in herself. Someone who hasn’t realised that their true self is just as beautiful as the idols they try to imitate.”
Gabrielle stared at him. After several moments, a sad smile slid across her lips.
“You’re not as immune to my allure as I thought.”
Harry sat up.
“I’m not trying to impress you,” he said sharply, “You’ve got flaws. You’re feisty, and you push people away, and you’re too hot-headed sometimes -”
Gabrielle stared at him. Harry ignored her.
“- but that’s okay,” he said, “Everybody has their goods and bads. These are yours. That doesn’t mean you need to be ashamed of them.”
“Ashamed?” a flickering flame shone in Gabrielle’s gaze, “I’m not ashamed -”
“You keep trying to live up to the perfection of your sister,” Harry spat, “But you don’t have to. I - you’re every bit as clever, and smart, and talented as she is. I just wish you could see that.”
He took a deep breath, looking back at the silver-haired girl. The girl wore a happy smile, her eyes glistening beneath the moonlight. A soft hand reached for his.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, her voice weak, “I - I really think you’re special, too. I’m glad to have you in my life.”
Harry smiled. The two of them turned back to the stars, their fingers intertwined. A hot, inexplicable sensation rippled through Harry’s chest.
This is perfect.
“You never said what was on your mind,” Gabrielle remembered after some time, “Are you alright?”
“I am, yeah,” Harry said slowly, “It’s just a friend.”
“Who?”
“Astoria,” he said. For some odd reason, Harry felt the need to add, “She’s my best friend’s younger sister. Kind of like my sister, really.”
Gabrielle’s grasp softened.
“Is she alright?” she asked worriedly. Harry frowned.
“No,” he whispered, “No, she isn’t. She’s got a Blood Curse.”
Gabrielle turned.
“Have you looked into blood magic?” she suggested, “It’s the only thing I can think of that would really help.”
“I have,” Harry nodded, “I understand the basics, but I don’t understand the concept of truisms all too well. I’ll have to learn a lot more.”
Gabrielle nodded. The two of them glanced back at the stars.
“We can figure it out together,” Gabrielle whispered, “You don’t have to do this on your own.”
Harry smiled.
“Not so independent now, are you?”
The girl giggled.
“I don’t have to be. Not anymore.”
And nothing more was said as the two bathed in silence, basking beneath the beauty of the midnight sky.
