Bag of Depravity
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Professor Potter: Chapter 46
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 17:56:23 +0000 UTCChapter 46
(In)Fallibility
Harry met Dumbledore in the corridor of the seventh floor. He was amused to see the Headmaster wearing his most athletic burgundy robes. Dumbledore had, in the past, confessed that these allowed him the greatest range of motion, while still carrying a magnificent swishing quality after particularly sharp movements.
In short, they were the robes he would choose to duel in.
“I told you, there are no defenses around this one,” Harry said. “He didn’t have time to create any. It was before his job interview, so he couldn’t afford to arouse suspicion.”
“To think, inside Hogwarts’s walls for all these years…!” Dumbledore said.
After the debacle in Grimmauld Place, Harry had chosen to share everything he knew about Horcruxes. That included each of their locations. Hufflepuff’s cup, in the bowels of Gringotts, was almost completely out of reach. With Harry’s skills, getting in and getting out might be possible, but the risk was equally high. He couldn’t afford to become a fugitive if he was caught— and that was assuming the goblins and their defenses didn’t kill him off.
Nagini was a moving target. Not only did the snake not stay in one place, she was glued to her master’s side at nearly all times. The locket was a complete mystery. Whoever laid that trap had spirited it away. The ring was a pile of ashes in Eastern Europe. Similarly, the diary was an empty husk, eaten through by basilisk venom.
That left Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Arguably the best hidden, Voldemort had stashed this soul sliver right under Dumbledore’s nose. It was next to impossible to locate, unless you’d happened to visit the Room of Lost Things and charm a tragic story out of the right ghost.
Or, you could be like Harry, and come back in time already having done both those things.
“I’ll conjure the room.”
Dumbledore watched with interest while Harry moved back and forth in the hallway. The Room of Requirement’s entrance appeared. When Harry opened it, the stacks of eclectic junk marking the Room of Lost Things became visible. Dumbledore applauded softly.
“Quite brilliant,” he said. “This castle holds so many mysteries, to which I’m privy to so few.” His expression dimmed. “Including, it seems, those of the most nefarious nature.”
Harry shrugged, not sure what to say to that. From the Chamber of Secrets to Voldemort’s hidden Horcrux, it was true Dumbledore had some crucial gaps in his knowledge. Harry just didn’t think — with the possible exception of a time-traveler like himself — one man could know everything that he might need to know about somewhere like Hogwarts. It just wasn’t possible.
He was aware that if he said as much, Dumbledore would just smile. So Harry left it at this.
The two of them entered the room. Dumbledore had his wand out. Harry found himself staring at the long length of elder-wood. He almost tripped on a broken rocking horse because he wasn’t looking where he was going.
“Carful,” Dumbledore cautioned, a smile gracing his face. “It wouldn’t do to take a tumble before we’ve found what we’re looking for.”
“Right,” Harry coughed, embarrassed. He looked away from the wand.
The two of them patrolled the room. It took a bit of looking because Harry’s memory was hazy. He hadn’t stepped foot here in decades. There’d been nothing left to walk in.
Finally, they spotted a glistening tiara at the base of one of the taller junk piles, wedged between an outdated broomstick and makeup mirror for witches.
Harry bent down and pulled the lost diadem out of its ignoble resting place. Dumbledore shifted somewhat nervously.
“Are you quite certain it’s safe to touch?” he asked.
“Positive. I’ve done it before,” Harry said. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the perfectly polished silver. “It must be enchanted to ward off dust.”
Dumbledore stared at the relic, his eyes glittering as much as the metal. “Ravenclaw’s Diadem… This is not a treasure I expected to lay eyes on. It’s been lost since the day of her death.”
“Earlier than that,” Harry absently corrected. “Her daughter Helena stole it. You know, the Grey Lady.”
“By placing it on your head, it’s said to grant incredible wisdom. An incredibly beneficial trait to possess— the most beneficial, in the eyes of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.” Dumbledore’s eyes showed a hint of longing. It would be a very simple thing, placing it on either of their heads. It was theirs now, after all. All it would take was a second. In front of Harry’s eyes, Dumbledore squashed those desires. “Whatever magic it once possessed will have been eaten away by Tom’s caustic magic. It’s no better than a trinket now.”
Harry suspected Dumbledore was trying to convince himself. All the same, he smiled at the Headmaster. It was clear the man had taken the story about his counterpart’s demise to heart.
“Did you bring it?”
“I’m not so old yet as to forget an outing’s most critical part,” Dumbledore quipped.
From his robes, seemingly out of an ordinary pocket, he drew Godric’s Gryffindor's bejeweled blade.
One Founder’s artifact, to forever destroy another.
“A shame…” Dumbledore sighed one last time.
Harry held the Diadem out and the Headmaster cleaved it in two.
There was a fizzing sound as Harry held the separated parts, as well as a droning hum almost like… singing? Two noises, from two different sources. Voldemort’s soul was sputtering as this fraction lost its foothold in the world. Meanwhile, the Diadem’s original enchantment was celebrating. It was something approaching sentient with all the magic Rowena imbued into it. It knew that it had been bastardized, and it believed destruction was preferable to further defilement.
Dumbledore looked melancholic. Harry suspected he’d come to the same conclusion.
“The Gaunt Ring was a treasure. But at least with it, the true treasure survived,” Dumbledore said. “Ravenclaw’s Diadem was said to be the greatest of all the Founders’ artifacts. I confess, it feels as if I’ve done something terrible.”
Dumbledore laughed slightly, showing he wasn’t being completely serious. Harry placed the cleaved pieces into the bottom of the junk pile he first pulled Diadem out of. The sounds it was emitting were gradually growing quieter as the magic bled out of the metal. Soon, it would be entirely inert.
“At least we carry the knowledge that Tom is one step further from this world,” Dumbledore said.
Harry nodded, although he had to point out some bad news. “He’s capable of creating new Horcruxes to replace the ones he loses. That’s what Nagini was. A replacement for the diary. But there must be some kind of limit to it, because he never made more during the war. I don’t really understand how this magic works.”
“Few do. Only one, I would argue. And I am glad I am not conversing with he.”
Harry chuckled. “I’m not sure if even Tom understands it. After what happened to me and Neville, I get the feeling he isn’t as knowledgable as he pretends to be.”
Thinking about the Boy Who Lived and the Horcrux inside of him turned Harry’s thoughts to the Chamber of Secrets. As he and Dumbledore kept a vigil over the destroyed Horcrux in case of side effects, he raised the point he’d been thinking of. “We should strip the basilisk corpse. The magic in its body will have kept it preserved. Those fangs are one of the only to destroy the Horcruxes. Take it from me, Gryffindor’s Sword won’t always be available.”
“It will require a Parselmouth in order to reach,” Dumbledore said.
“Neville will help if we ask. It might even do him some good— I think he’s itching to contribute something to the war.”
Dumbledore tilted his head back, idly looking at the peak of the junk mountain before them. “Feel free to do that, then, whenever you’re quite ready.”
Harry jumped slightly. “Me?”
Dumbledore lowered his eyes to Harry. “Are you unwilling?”
“Not at all! I guess I just expected you would want to do it.”
“I’ve recently become aware that my choices have not always been as beneficial as I believed while making them,” Dumbledore said. “I think now that I may have stayed too distant from the Boy Who Lived. I could not be relied on as, maybe, I ought to have been. Be it in this time or another one.” Dumbledore hummed, but it was not a happy note. “Perhaps it’s better for another to fill that role.”
Harry eyed him. Seeing nothing but resolve on the Headmaster’s part, he averted his gaze. “Yeah, alright. I don’t mind stepping in.”
Dumbledore smiled.
“I know that you’ll do it admirably,” he said. “As, in many ways, you are doing already.”
Harry hoped his confidence wasn’t unfounded.
O-O-O
Sneaking out of Hogwarts for Order meetings had turned into a bit of a process. Harry, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all had to leave the school without arousing Umbridge’s suspicions. They each traveled separately, leaving at staggered intervals. That afternoon, Harry left first, a full hour before the meeting was due to start. He killed time in a Muggle pub to pass the outing off as research. After a pint, he paid his tab and used a bathroom stall to disguise his Apparition.
He didn’t go straight to Longbottom Manor. There was still about five minutes before the Order’s early-birds would start arriving. Instead, he went to Diagon. Outside the coffee shop where they shared muffins, Harry found Nymphadora Tonks.
Rather, she found him. This was the meeting place they agreed on, but he never would’ve known the willowy brunette out front was her if she didn’t gesture him over first.
“You’re looking a little bit different,” Harry said.
“It’s a disguise.” She was whispering. “Is it time?”
Harry checked his watch. “Thereabouts.”
He put his hand out. Tonks accepted it somewhat tentatively. Seconds later, Harry had side-long Apparated her to Longbottom Manor’s front yard.
Tonks turned her head nervously when they arrived, as if guards were going to crawl out of the flower bushes to accost her.
“Relax. Nothing here bites,” Harry said. “Well, Sirius might on occasion… but I’m sure he’s not here yet. That bugger is always late.”
They approached the door together. The closer they got, the slower that Tonks moved.
“Is there a passcode?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Some kind of advanced ward that fries anyone who isn’t a member?”
“The Order is recruiting right now. We can’t incinerate everyone who shows up to their first meeting.”
“Then… Do I have to pass a test?”
“Surely, if there was a test,” said a woman’s voice, “then slaying Fenrir Greyback would be sufficient for top marks.”
Tonks jumped. Her disguise morphed and disappeared in favor of her usual appearance. Augusta Longbottom descended the stairs. When she reached Tonks, she held out her hand.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Tonks,” Augusta said. “Harry can attest that I’ve been most eager to meet you.”
Harry backed her words up with a smile.
“I’m… glad to hear it?” Tonks said, shaking Augusta’s hand when the older woman offered it.
“It brings me nothing but pleasure to see young people taking up the good fight,” Augusta said. “If only there were more witches like you, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be severely outmatched.”
The heavy praise made Tonks blush. Even if she had to be used to it by now, taking credit for Greyback’s death would give her mixed feelings. Finally, Tonks said a simple, “Thanks.”
Augusta turned her smile onto Harry, offering her silent approval of his good work. Still, Harry could read the message in her eyes. One down, one to go.
Harry reckoned Amelia Bones was going to be much harder to get close to, let alone win over to their side.
“The other members are already beginning to gather,” Augusta said. “Here. I’ll lead you there.”
When they got to the room where meetings were held, Harry went to his usual seat. Augusta didn't relinquish Tonks, taking the young Auror to sit in the chair closest to Augusta’s own. Tonks looked pleadingly at Harry as she was led away, not wanting to be left with a stranger, but Harry wasn’t ready to fight with Augusta over something this small. He cheered Tonks on with a small smile.
It didn’t take long for the other members to start filling in the seats. Sirius and Remus arrived together, the latter giving Harry a moderately-awkward but very firm pat on the back. It was the first time he’d seen Harry since before the Grimmauld Place debacle, which he’d no doubt been filled in on by Sirius.
Before long, James and Dumbledore had arrived as well, joining Augusta at the head of the table, and the meeting began.
It started as usual with opening remarks from Dumbledore. After, he turned it over to ordinary members to report new developments. There wasn’t too much to be said. The Death Eaters were still moving slowly — or deliberately, if you were to take a pessimistic view — keeping knowledge of their whereabouts to a minimum. Dorcas Meadows had undergone a minor scrap with a blood supremacist freshly out of Hogwarts. He was unmarked, and the Aurors let him off with a slap on the wrist. The story reminded Harry of Marcus Flint’s antics in the Three Broomsticks, the day he caught Dumbledore’s attention. The thugs that attacked him during school shopping at Diagon were the same. Voldemort was using young, sympathetic wizards without inducting them as Death Eaters. It made their actions look independent and disconnected, insidiously hiding the root cause.
“Surely the Ministry can see through excuses like that,” Dedalus Diggle said, heat in his voice.
“Not when they’re looking for excuses themselves,” Sirius said.
A series of agreements sounded around the table.
“We’ll have to hope that the more amenable officials begin to come around,” Augusta said. She was looking straight at Harry, dropping yet another hint about Amelia Bones. “Until then, we can only focus on our own actions. I believe you had something to report, Sturgis?”
The straw-haired man cleared his throat. “That’s correct, Ma’am. As some of you might know, I’m a Curse-Breaker. I work with the Ministry from time to time… and when I was there last week, there was a rumor going around. It’s been published in the Prophet since then. A senior Unspeakable packed up and left the country without even giving his department notice. That’s what they’re saying, anyway. All they really know is that he disappeared. Of course, since it couldn’t be the work of dark wizards, he must’ve moved away, is the Ministry’s position on it.”
“What would Voldemort want with an Unspeakable?” Sirius asked.
It was Dumbledore that answered. “I can think of one thing the Dark Lord would find extremely interesting.” He paused, ensuring he’d captured everyone’s attention. Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “I believe that Lord Voldemort is going after the prophecy.”
That caused a round of whispered comments. Marlene McKinnon raised her hand.
“Doesn’t he already know the prophecy?” she asked. “Why would he attack the Longbottoms if he didn’t know it?”
“He knows part of it,” James said. “Only three people have heard the whole prophecy, and that’s Dumbledore, me, and Augusta. If Voldemort wants to learn it, he’ll have to get to the copy that’s held in the Department of Mysteries.”
“Which, I believe, is exactly what he is attempting to do,” Dumbledore said. “In light of this, those of you with access to Ministry facilities will be assigned to a rotating guard duty. Endeavor not to arouse suspicion, if at all possible, and remain on your toes. Our enemies have always favored underhanded methods.
Dumbledore was cheating a little bit in his conclusion about Voldemort’s goal. He’d seen the Dark Lord take exactly this approach in Harry’s memories. Likewise, that warning about underhanded methods felt somewhat pointed toward Sturgis Podmore, who in Harry’s time had been hit with an Imperius Curse while on guard duty, resulting in an Azkaban stint.
“Perhaps Kingsley should be excluded from this project for now,” Augusta suggested. “It would do him good not to attract more attention.”
“What’s wrong with Kingsley?” Marlene asked.
Kingsley stood up, subtly taking his turn to speak. The dark-skinned Auror was one of the Order’s central figures. That’s why suggestion that he should be excluded from an operation inside the Ministry was so shocking.
“In response to a Death Eater trap, I recently evacuated a section of Muggle London,” Kingsley said. “That involved forging a Misuse of Magic report. Nothing has been proven, but I find myself under closer watch than usual.”
“You did well,” Augusta said. “What was this trap, exactly? I’ve only heard rumors of it myself. It seems a mission Dumbledore ordered went awry.”
“It was a trip I took on my own,” Harry said.
He had to suppress his irritation to keep it from reaching his voice. He knew August cared about posturing. It was why she had Tonks sitting right next to her; an implicit brag that she was the one who secured such a promising recruit. Harry didn’t care about how she made herself look important, but this was different. It was dangerous. She was attacking Dumbledore’s credibility.
Albus Dumbledore was only a man. Harry understood this better than anyone. Dumbledore made mistakes, carried regrets, and could only offer his best efforts. But losing him had taught Harry something— the wizarding world needed to think Dumbledore was more than a man, and the Order was no exception.
He was their counterpart to Voldemort. With Dumbledore on their side, people believed they had a chance. When he had died, dark times followed. People lost the will to fight. If even Dumbledore lost, what chance did they have?
It was only a series of lucky breaks and desperate last stands that allowed Harry to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Dumbledore was what offered people hope. He was a symbol as much as a man, necessary to keep the country from giving in. Augusta Longbottom could not be that no matter how much politics she played. Therefore, she couldn’t be allowed to undermine him. The ramifications were not something she would be able to handle.
“A trip?” Augusta pursed her lips. “What kind might that have been?”
Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. The gesture leached some of the growing tension. “I wanted to see an example of wizards living among Muggles for my class. Sirius owns a house in Muggle London, so I asked to check it out. I got more than I bargained for.”
“They booby trapped my house,” Sirius growled. “Killed my fucking elf. I never went to Grimmauld Place anymore, but it almost got Harry killed.”
“There was no lasting damage?” Augusta asked. She sounded concerned, but Harry didn’t miss the implication. How serious could it have really been?
It was interesting that Augusta didn’t know this already, unless she was playing dumb. Harry looked at Sturgis, but the man’s face didn’t give anything away. Had he not told Augusta what he saw?
“The house is fucked,” Sirius said. “If things went wrong, Muggles would’ve died. But we handled it in the end.”
“What was this trap?” Marlene asked, her eyebrows raised as she heard it described. “And how did Harry get out of it?”
“Harry’s resourceful,” Hestia said, defensively, from a few seats down.
“They placed a vacuum ward on the house,” Harry said, which was true. “Fortunately, I had some Gillyweed on me. Professor Sprout gave it to me as a gift.” A lie. “If I tried to break out of the house, the entire ward array would’ve blown up like a bomb.” Another lie. “I managed to send word to Dumbledore through a portrait. He sent Kingsley to evacuate the area just in case, while Sturgis broke the wards down.” More truths.
It was a plausible story. Only Sturgis, James, and Sirius would know that there was more to it. Out of them, only Sturgis might speak up here.
But the talkative man, for once, stayed silent, backing Harry’s story up with a stoic nod.
“I see. I’m thankful that it turned out so well,” Augusta said. “All the same, it would be best for Kingsley to lay low for the moment…”
Most agreed, and a guard schedule was drawn up without Kingsley’s name. Dumbledore didn’t look bothered by the angle Augusta had tried to take. Harry couldn’t say the same. He was starting to see the woman’s antics as decidedly more harmful than he’d seen them as before.
At some point, someone would have to rein her in. Harry would speak to Dumbledore about it. But if the Headmaster continued to ignore her, as he often did with those who criticized him, then perhaps this was another role Harry would have to step into in his place.
Comments
Catherine Colin
Thanks for the chapter!
