Chapter 30: Unwanted Guests

On an empty street in a small Muggle town in northern England, three figures suddenly appeared with a small, barely audible pop. A little ways down the street was a small, brick building that served as a bed and breakfast, followed by a couple of small shops with white sheetrock exteriors. It was a small, sleepy, cozy town quite unlike the busy bustle of London or even the homogenous mundanity of the suburbs in Little Whinging. It was a town with character, where some things had remained unchanged for centuries and even those newer things that had only seen a few decades, had a certain cultural inertia to them.

The man with the odd periwinkle robe and the long white beard knotted down to his chest looked almost less out of place than the young man beside him wearing dress jeans and a fine gray v-neck shirt with a blue blazer on top of it. The third person, a red-head wearing a mis-fitting, overlarge sweater and faded jeans, would have fit in just fine if anyone were inclined to look that way. But there was no one to see them make their appearance, and even if there had been, any Muggle would have felt a sudden need to look somewhere else. The most interesting thing on the street would have seemed to them to be the most uninteresting thing and most unworthy of note.

"What are we doing here, Professor?"

"Ah, Harry, I do hope you will get used to calling me by my given name when out of Hogwarts. I am quite happy to count you among my friends," the Headmaster replied as the pair began walking down the empty street.

"Right, sorry," Harry Potter said, apologizing seemingly on reflex. "What are we doing here, Albus? When I got your message to meet in your office I wasn't expecting to be leaving the castle. Not that I mind, but…"

"But, you are, of course, naturally curious. What we are doing here, Harry, is visiting an old friend and former colleague of mine. The cause for my haste is that, until recently, Horace Slughorn had been doing too good a job at hiding his whereabouts. Ever since Voldemort has returned, Horace has been, shall we say, skittish."

"Right. So, you're worried he might not still be there if you wait too long?" At Dumbledore's nod, Harry continued as the three turned down a side street that led away from the central part of the small village.

"But why delay waiting for us, why bring us along at all?" Ron chimed in.

"Because, Mr. Weasley, I need to use you and Harry as bait." Dumbledore noted Ron's sudden apprehension and Harry's inquisitive look gave the two young wizards a wink, eyes twinkling. "Oh, there won't be any danger to either of you. Quite the opposite, actually. Professor Slughorn to this day is a great broker of connections and introductions, having cultivated a great many famous witches' and wizards' favor over his many years teaching at Hogwarts. Obtaining his friendship may very well be a quite a valuable commodity to you over the coming years."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Ron responded, mollified.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed not."

Harry frowned. "But then, if you are already friends with him, why do you need us? I mean, I know I've gotten pretty famous, and I'm sure he'd love to have the famous 'Weasley Seer' as an acquaintance—but come on, you're Albus Dumbledore! You're the most famous wizard of all!"

Dumbledore snorted a small, deprecating laugh. "Ho-ho, I think Merlin may have a few things to say about that, to say nothing of the Hogwarts Founders, or my old friend Nicholas Flamel."

"You're still more famous than Ron and I put together."

Dumbledore gave a slight incline of the head. "It is true that my fame and our previous acquaintance would normally go quite far with Horace, but I'm afraid that in recent years he has assiduously avoided coming into contact with me."

"Hang on," Ron interjected. "So, you're using us to, what, lure him out to talk to you?"

"Exactly, Mr. Weasley."

"Alright then."

The trio of wizards approached what appeared to be a darkened Muggle house with boarded up windows and plastic coverings placed on the lawn ornaments. Harry frowned, sensing something off about the place.

"Professor—"

"Yes, Harry, you are sensing correctly. Things are not as they appear," Dumbledore replied.

When they got to the large, rounded doorway, the Headmaster knocked twice with the iron knocker on the door before calling out. "Horace, it's Albus Dumbledore. I've brought a couple of friends with me to meet you."

There was no answer.

Dumbledore made a hand gesture and the wooden door unlocked and swung inward. The three stepped into a small entrance hall and got their first look at the interior of the building. It was a two-storey manor house, but one that looked to have been abandoned for several months at least. The furniture was covered with white linen to keep the dust off. Several paintings were similarly draped in cloth and set on the floor against the wall.

Ron Weasley frowned. "What gives? Just looks like a Muggle home all done up while they're on holiday."

Harry Potter stepped in front of his friend, wand raised. "That's what it's supposed to look like." Harry turned to an innocuous looking wooden chair sitting by what would be a dining table. "Isn't that right, Professor Slughorn?"

After Harry stared directly at the chair for a few seconds, the object began to turn and twist, the wooden legs expanding into arms and legs, the wooden seat becoming an abdomen and the seat back the head. After a few seconds of transformation, a rather portly, balding man wearing a red velvet waistcoat stood where the chair had been. He wore a surprised expression, but his lips quickly formed themselves into a rueful smile.

"What gave me away?"

Harry swished his wand with a muttered veritas revelio, and the walls, floors, and furniture all shimmered and blurred, to be replaced by an entirely different décor. Instead of bare walls with paintings covered in linen, now there were a plethora of pictures—hundreds of images with Slughorn standing next to some luminary or other. There was autographed Quidditch memorabilia, signed records from the hottest British wizarding music groups and singers, and numerous group photos with Horace Slughorn at the center surrounded by past generations of Hogwarts's finest and most illustrious alumni.

"Too much magic in that kind of disillusionment charm, Professor, unless you're hiding from Muggles. Even if someone didn't notice that you were a different grain of wood than the other chairs, they would still know you were here because the charms you cast are still up," Harry supplied to the wizard in front of him.

"Harry's right, Horace. If my student could find you out so easily, so too could the Death Eaters," Dumbledore chimed in.

Slughorn nodded, his great walrus-like mustache wrinkling upward thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. I'll need more practical effects in the future."

"It's good to see you, Horace," Professor Dumbledore said.

Slughorn raised his hand in protest. "I know what you're here for, Dumbledore, and I won't do it. So, you might as well save yourself the effort."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "You think I'm here to ask you to take up your old post of Potions Master at Hogwarts," he said with a twinkle in his eyes, "that I want to put you in a position where I can pressure you into answering the one question you are most afraid to answer. Well, I will put your mind at ease about the former and confirm your fears about the latter."

Horace Slughorn looked at the Hogwarts Headmaster quizzically. "So, you're not hear to offer me a position?" He saw Dumbledore nod. "But you are here to interrogate me?"

"I'm here to introduce you to a couple of my prized students, and the two youngest members of the faculty in the history of Hogwarts: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You may have heard of them."

At that, Slughorn got a strange look to his face, a mixture of being star stuck and avaricious all at once, as he walked over to the boys in turn to shake their hands. "Of course, of course! Mr. Potter, it is a great pleasure to meet you. Your work on the Homorophous charm is absolutely brilliant. And Mr. Weasley—I am absolutely thrilled to finally meet the famed 'Weasley Seer' as you are being called."

It took little to get Horace Slughorn going about his many friends in famous places, pointing to the various people on the walls with enthusiasm as he detailed his connection with each one. He mentioned his 'Slug Club' where he would bring all the best, brightest, and well-connected together for a little social networking, assuring the two that had he still been working at Hogwarts the two of them would surely have been included. Slughorn paid no attention to how the few interjections the Headmaster made served to egg him on, to continue down the road of reminiscence.

It was one of those clever nudges from Dumbledore that got Slughorn onto the subject of Muggle-born students. "It really is amazing at how some of the Muggle-borns do so well, even better than mean Pure Bloods…" he was saying when he caught a look from the two boys in front of him that let him know he'd put a foot wrong.

"No disrespect sir, but that's rubbish. There's nothing inferior about Muggle-borns," Harry retorted, a slightly cold edge to his voice. "The smartest witch in our House, in all of Hogwarts even, is a Muggle-born. And our best friend."

Ron nodded, his arms crossed.

Seeing the pair's stern expression, Slughorn took on a stricken expression. "Oh, you mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" he exclaimed. "Some of my favorites were Muggle-borns! It's not that I think they aren't quality witches or wizards, it's that they start off with less advantages in the magical world. Surely, you can understand that, Harry?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully. The man had a point. There were things he hadn't known about that all the others had. They young wizard also noticed the familiar address Slughorn had used. Dumbledore was certainly crafty. It was a good thing he used his machinations to serve the common good rather than his own interests.

"Look," Slughorn said, gesturing over to a particular picture on the wall. "Your mother, Lily Evans, she was one of my absolute favorites. She was…well…remarkable! There she is next to me, one of the most talented and promising witches I ever met. I adored her!"

As Harry reached up to touch the moving photo, the young girl with fiery red hair looking happy and content within, Harry felt a sudden pain in his scar. Staggering back, Harry put his hand up to his head.

"What is it, Harry," Dumbledore was at his side in an instant, his wand up, tip lit up with a charm Harry recognized as a medical diagnostic.

"My scar—some kind of mind magic…it's Voldemort, but…not Voldemort," Harry stammered out as he ducked his head and tried to implement the Occlumency he had learned. He took a calming breath, and the burning sensation went away, leaving only a clear image.

"Can you block him out?" Ron asked.

"It—it's not like an intrusion…more like, I'm inside his head. But, it's not really him. It's like I'm looking through his eyes, but…I'm too low to the ground. There are shelves all around, and crystal balls—I'm in the Hall of Prophecies! In the Ministry! And my thoughts—they're not like a man's thoughts."

"Be very careful, Harry," Dumbledore warned.

Harry nodded, standing up, following the path of his vision. "I think—I think I'm a snake. Yes, there are whispers, like when I was hearing the basilisk, but far more human. I think I'm inside Voldemort's familiar."

Then Harry went stock still. "Oh, Merlin, no!" Harry said, then he jerked his head back. "Ron! Your dad! I think—he's being attacked! I'm attacking him! Right now!"

"Drop the connection, Harry, use the occlumency that you've learned to ease back out of it. You mustn't let Voldemort know you are seeing what he is doing," Dumbledore ordered.

Once again, Harry calmed his mind and let his magic clear things away, and the vision faded from his mind. "Head—Albus we need to go help Mr. Weasley!"

"Immediately, boys take my arm."

But before they could even do that, a large white shape in the shape of some kind of great cat appeared inside the house. Harry instantly recognized it as the patronus of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and it was the auror's voice that spoke from the patronus.

Dumbledore. Potter. A breakout from Azkaban is underway. The dementors have abandoned the prison, turning on the guards. We need your help.

As the patronus leapt away, disappearing into the positive realm from which it had come, Dumbledore was momentarily stricken with indecision.

And Harry knew why.

Arthur Weasley had not been put on guard duty by shelf where Professor Trelawney's prophecy orb was stored in order to prevent Voldemort from stealing it. The Order of the Phoenix members in the Ministry who had been taking turns guarding the prophecy were, unknown to them, there to entice it to be stolen. They were meant to draw attention to it, and Voldemort was meant to steal it.

Oh, they had emergency portkeys and they were supposed to use them to "go get help" in the event that Voldemort himself showed up, but it was a calculated risk. There was always the chance the lookout may be killed before their portkey would activate, or that they would foolishly try to take on a superior force, despite Dumbledore's repeated admonition that their lives were more precious than the secret they guarded.

But if they intervened now, if they saved Ron's father, not only could Tom Riddle possibly be made aware of Harry's vision and whatever connection they had, but the entire purpose of having him obtain the prophecy would be thwarted.

And then Dumbledore looked into Harry's eyes and at that moment he knew what the right thing to do was. "We must make haste. We must rescue Arthur and get him to safety and then go join the fight at Azkaban."

Harry Potter had never been prouder of the Headmaster. The choice to sacrifice a long-term plan in order to protect just one person was not so simple.

"Why can't we do both?" Ron interjected. "Why don't Harry and I go save my dad while you go to join the battle in Azkaban?"

"Mr. Weasley, that is a more brilliant idea than you realize," Dumbledore said, the twinkle back in his eyes. "Horace, I must insist that you accompany me to Hogwarts, at least for the time being. For your own safety." Then he turned to Harry and handed him a small, golden object: a time turner. "Harry, I expect you understand what to do. You mustn't be seen. I will join you on the battle field."

The Headmaster took Horace Slughorn's arm and the pair disapparated with pop.

Weasley Seer

Arthur Weasley sat on the chair next to the shelf with the all-important Trelawney prophecy, taking his watch over this crucial weapon that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could not get his hands on. It was an additional four hour watch on top of his normal work shift, but it was a vital mission for the Order so he didn't mind the tedium of just sitting and waiting. He did however, dislike the darkness and the solitude. To be perfectly honest, it was just a bit scary, and he was getting just a bit drowsy—

"Hey, Dad!"

Arthur's eyes popped open, but saw nobody.

"Charlie? Bill? Percy?"

A disembodied head appeared directly in front of him. "No, dad! It's me, Ron!"

And it was. There was Ron's poor little face, floating in the empty air in front of him, and Arthur's heart nearly broke.

"Oh Merlin! You've died and become a ghost! What happened, son!"

"What? No! You're the one who's going to die…not...bloody hell!"

And then a second head joined the first. This time it was Harry Potter's. "Mr. Weasley, we're not dead. We're under my invisibility cloak, here on Order business."

"Oh, thank heavens!" Arthur said with a sigh of relief. "But what do you mean I'm the one who's going to die? Is this a prediction?"

Ron and Harry turned and looked at each other.

"Yeah," they said simultaneously.

"Ron had a vision of something bad that's about to happen. But according to Dumbledore, we need to let the vision play out—that's the best way to avert it," Harry explained.

"Right, yeah," Ron agreed. "If we try to thwart the vision, it's likely to come true another way. So, we're here to save you, but you're going to have to trust us."

A flask appeared in the middle of the air.

Arthur took it, staring at the two revealed heads in surprise. "Marvelous! How are you both remaining invisible under the cloak? I can't even see your hands."

"We're under a disillusionment charm from our toes up to our heads," Harry answered. "Double protection. This is completely hush-hush."

"Don't even tell Mum," Ron added.

Arthur nodded his assent and then took the potion. He felt a rush of fire in his veins as the pair of Gryffindors pulled the cloak back over their heads, and then Arthur suddenly felt extremely drowsy.

It was only a few minutes later that the door to the Department of Mysteries opened and then the sound of hissing could be heard as Nagini approached. It struck once, biting Arthur on the leg, injecting its deadly venom into the red-headed man. The adult wizard got to his feet quickly, startled awake by the pain, but the neurotoxins in the venom assured he wouldn't remain upright long. A second strike and Arthur was down again, then the snake reared up over him and struck several more times to ensure death.

Once the snake finished with Arthur, it turned to the prophecy on the shelf, the one labelled with Trelawney as the seer, the letters "BWL" and "the Dark Lord" as subjects. It reared its head up and opened its mouth wide to swallow the thing whole. But as the creature put its mouth around the swirling blue prophecy orb, several curses blasted the creature off, forcing it to land several meters away. The snake's head and body was badly singed where the curses struck, but fiery sparks quickly appeared where the damage had been done, returning the snake's head to pristine condition.

Nagini hissed angrily, before quickly slithering away, and then suddenly disappearing, as if a portkey had suddenly activated. Which was probably the case.

As soon as the snake vanished, Ron and Harry threw off the invisibility cloak and went to secure the Weasley patriarch.

Harry swore. "Bloody beast couldn't even take it, this was all for nothing!"

"Let's hope Snape's anti-venom potion works," Ron said as the pair moved Arthur into a sitting position and placed a Slinky in his hands. "St. Mungo's, St. Mungo's!" Ron said, activating the portkey and sending his father off to safety.

Weasley Seer

Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt had never seen so many dementors. Usually, the unearthly guardians of Azkaban remained within the maximum security wing of the prison where they were given free rein to suck the happiness out of the inmates without limit, save only they not give the incarcerated the Kiss. But now, the creatures were streaming out of the building in droves, ignoring the gaping hole in the side of the structure and flying down to attack the vastly outnumbered Azkaban guards.

Shacklebolt quickly summoned his patronus and sent his message out to the leaders of the Order of the Phoenix. He only hoped they were in a position to come to the wardens' aid. Then he turned to try to help fend of the attacking dementors between the time—

POP!

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley appeared beside him.

Kingsley was taken aback by how quickly the response had come. How had they even had time to hear the message? Patronus messaging was near instantaneous, but it did take a few seconds to appear and reappear, and then there was the length of communication. That was uncannily quick.

"Dumbledore will be along shortly," Harry assured Shacklebolt. "For now, let's get all the guards behind a patonus shield."

Ron nodded, spotting a trio of guards falling to the onslaught of negative emotions. "Expecto patronum!" His Jack Russell Terrier patronus appeared and immediately charged forward, knocking the dementors far away from the vulnerable wizards, but there were still so many who were covered in oppressive shadow between the Order members and the Azkaban guardhouse.

And then Harry Potter stepped forward.

"Expecto patroni!" Three powerful, glowing white stags burst onto the scene and blasted all the dementors between Harry and the guards furthest from them off into the air, immediately creating an outer perimeter and removing all potential victims from immediate harm.

"You heard Potter," Shacklebolt shouted to the handful of aurors under his command who had been sent to investigate the distress call from Azkaban, "get your patrons spells cast and let's protect the weakened!"

Several more patronuses were summoned, bolstering the area of protection, preventing the still large numbers of dementors from getting through. Several of the aurors started moving forward to pull the guards who were too weak to stand on their own back, while Ron started handing out cheering potions and chocolate bars to them to help counter the dementor effects.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was astonished at how prepared Potter and Weasley were. Where had they found the time to gather these supplies?

But of course, Harry wasn't through being impressive. Usually, with this number of dementors and no wards to keep them away, the only possible move would be to evacuate everyone with emergency apparition or portkeys. The anti-apparition jinx around Azkaban had been shattered by those responsible for the attack at the outset, so that was still possible. However, Harry had no intention of retreating.

"DEMENTO EVENESCA!" Harry roared and the nearest score of dementors vanished in a flash of warm light.

The dark creatures fled as quickly they could manage, their loathsome cold shadows withdrawing from the brilliantly positive power of the wizard below laid bare. However, Harry Potter would not let them escape so easily. He repeated his charm over and over again. Three by three and then two by two the dementors were wiped from existence, until they were too far away for the magic to reach them, and the chill they brought was gone.

With the general pall the dementors cast over the area dispersed, the sky cleared and a dark figure floating in the air above the gaping hole in Azkaban's walls could be made out.

Voldemort

Behind him, several Death Eaters on brooms were trying to ferry out the former captives.

"Harry Potter," the self-styled Dark Lord called down, his voice amplified magically. "So, you have come," the dark robed wizard looked around the air where the dementors had just been. "And you have cost me a great many servants for my army. Foolish of you." Voldemort began to fly, broomless, down towards the rescue team of aurors and the few Order members.

"Tom Riddle. Half-blood—or should I say, Squib-blood," Harry retorted, his own voice similarly amplified so that all could hear. "Do your followers even know what a hypocrite you are?"

Ron laughed, audibly. "Good one, mate!"

Voldemort's red eyes blazed and with a snarl he cast a vicious reductor curse that exploded the earth beneath Ron and Harry.

"Er, maybe not so good," Ron recanted as he tried to get back to his feet, the great dome shield Harry had cast immediately after Voldemort's strike the only thing between him and death at the moment.

Harry began counter-attacking, casting a variety of spells, though most of his attention was on keeping the guards and aurors shielded from Voldemort's dark curses. Voldemort, however, was having no trouble knocking Harry's spells away, not even deigning to put up a shield charm. It was the first time the two had ever directly faced each other, spell to spell, and to Harry's mind, it was not going all that well. He hadn't been this outclassed since the first time he had dueled Flitwick.

"Is this the best that you can do, Harry Potter?" Voldemort taunted, momentarily letting up in his spell casting. "Is this all the strength of your magic?"

"Stop trying to kill my friends for a second and I'll show you how strong my magic is, Tom," Harry retorted.

Voldemort let out a laugh and several Death Eaters on brooms, now done with their task, joined him. "And that, Harry Potter, is your weakness. You weaken yourself with devotion to your muggle friends, and to those not strong enough to stand for themselves."

There was a sudden flash of flame.

"On the contrary, Tom," Dumbledore said, emerging from Fawkes's phoenix fire. "That is part of what makes Harry more powerful than you."

Voldemort screeched something incomprehensible and sent a torrent of cursed fire down towards Dumbledore, who calmly countered with a conjured flood of water what crashed into the flames form the side. But before the assembled Death Eaters could join in and Voldemort could continue his attack, there were dozens of more pops of apparition around the battleground.

Amelia Bones along with half of Britain's aurors and hit wizards appeared and trained their wands upwards. "Lethal spells are authorized, men! Don't let them escape!"

Voldemort cursed, erecting a shield between him and the auror force below. "No matter," he cried out, "I got what I came for,"

And then Voldemort disappeared, followed by the remainder of his followers.

Author's Note: Here we go! The last few chapters. Really, seriously, this time. No prank.