Episode 12. Part 11
Episode 12. Part 11
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- Professor Flitwick? What did you want to talk about? - Harold asked quietly as he entered Filius' office.
The little master hospitably offered the sofa for conversation, which seemed like a chair to Potter, and tea, before telling him why it was wrong to retaliate against Dumbledore. The half goblin sensed that a serious conflict was brewing, and so decided to share information gathered over the years, lest too much innocent blood be spilled. He sincerely loved wizards, and did not want war, which was ready to go to the Lord of one of the oldest magical families, just to fulfill a promise to a friend. It was to him that he told about the other side of the conflict's view of the situation. For some time Potter tried to explain that he did not care about that, but the little professor did not work with children for nothing and therefore one teenager managed to interest him in the end:
- Yes, Dumbledore is your enemy, but only because he made some unforgivable mistakes towards you and your cousin, - Philius patiently explained, ending the indignation with one phrase: - I do not justify him. He did have plans for you. He is a great politician, accustomed to manipulating people, and even before your admission calculated your life for at least a decade. He didn't want to control you or use you to consolidate his power. He only wanted to nurture certain character traits in you. He wanted you to be a hero, a new idol of light that would replace him when his hour came. You were to be the hope not only for magical Britain, but for himself. Albus really believed in you.
- Harold snickered skeptically.
- You... ruined all his plans. First by being in the orphanage, then by awakening the dormant magical gift in his cousin, which by his lineage was only supposed to awaken in the next generation. Then by his reluctance to become a hero and cultivate the qualities of character he had idealized all his life.
- At this point Potter began to laugh: what a... bad guy he was, after all, to do this to an old man. - You disappointed him and ruined everything he'd been preparing for you for a good dozen years, if not more, considering that before the first magical war with Who-Who-Me-Not, he already wanted to raise a conquering hero and only failed to do so because he couldn't choose between your daddy, James Potter, and Frank Longbottom for a long time. Those grew up and self-determined, as did you, before he was able to prepare the environment for the hero's upbringing. James ruined his plan when he befriended a member of a family that has long been considered dark, Sirius Black. And then with the werewolf, Remus Lupin. Both James and Frank supported Albus' ideas, but were not ready to sacrifice themselves in the name of light, not ready to do as Dumbledore himself had done in his youth. And then he was forced to let the situation go on its own, because he could find no other candidate for a hero fitting his parameters. When it became known that Alice and Lily were pregnant, and Sybilla Trelloni uttered a prophecy, he decided that this was a sign. That life itself was pointing him to his successor.
- And life pointed to me. And I refused to grow up to be what he wanted me to be," Harold finished for Philius, sighing. Was the Headmaster justified in his eyes? He'd never thought of him as an enemy. No, Potter didn't care about Albus and all his reasons. The old man had himself to blame for all his failures. It just wasn't fair that Neville was a puppet in the Headmaster's plans and, what's more, didn't even know it. Hence the confrontation, because of the desire to free himself from the old spider's sticky net, as well as to free his brother and friend. That was it.
- Yes!" exclaimed Flitwick, relieved that his thought had been heard. - And it was out of frustration that he began to make rash decisions, mistakes, rushing to get you back on the path of light. Understand, Harold, he means Neville no harm. And he doesn't fully believe that the Longbottom heir can replace you, either. It's just that you've shown your darker side, and he doesn't believe in you anymore, either.
He's not bad, Harold. He's just an old man who, sensing the impending end, began to rush...
- How do you know all this? - Potter inquired. The little professor smiled slyly, flashing his sly, inhumanly dark eyes, "I'm a half goblin.
- A Hogwarts spy in the service of Gringotts? Okay, fine, don't answer that. I understand a goblin's desire to control wizards.
- I genuinely love children and teaching them my subject matter.
- I can see that," Harry nodded, and then returned to the subject, knowing what he wanted to do. You don't want me to retaliate. But I'll get Neville out of the old man's web anyway, because I promised. And if a spider gets in the way..."
"Well, I wouldn't expect anything better," said Flitwick with a sigh. He knew, with regret, that the headmaster would be in the way, which meant...
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All my senses were tensed to the breaking point. His instincts spoke of grave danger. He thought he was being watched, and yet... he was hiding in the magic, hiding in the shadows, knowing exactly where what he needed was. And damn the goblins that made him go from pickpocket to burglar!
Of course, most of the items on the shorthand list he had simply bought back anonymously. It was a safety net, because if he'd bought up valuables like Potter, after the theft everyone would have realized whose order the nobles had been robbed. And not everyone was willing to part with their valuables, even for a lot of money. It was easy to break into the Muggle aristocracy, to those who hadn't sold their valuables. But to wizards... Harold thanked Merlin that the fathers of his friends, or simply lords he respected, had sold things their ancestors had wrested from someone and whose value had long been forgotten. Some of them had even made a fortune through it... However, there were still a couple of things that Potter had to go to extreme measures to get his hands on... His instincts screamed at once, and he managed to grab the hilt of his dagger before he had his back pressed against the stone floor.
- Well, well, well, Harry Potter. What a rendezvous! - Sniffing noisily, a vaguely familiar voice growled. Harold was pinned to the stone floor competently, not allowing him to move his legs or arms. Though the hand that was on the hilt of the dagger was still movable. He had only to rise slightly... under the weight of an unknown but heavy man who reeked too much like a dog. - There are so many rumors about you... What are you doing in the dungeons of the Rosier family mansion, and how did you get into this house in the first place? - Out of the darkness came a familiar face from old newspaper clippings.
It was dark everywhere, but thanks to magic, Harold could see:
- I want to ask you the same question, Fenrir the Strong. Also, how did you get out of Azkaban?
- My lord is merciful, he freed his loyal supporters," the werewolf grinned and licked defiantly. Harold was almost grateful for that, for he was no longer dripping disgusting-smelling saliva like Fenrir really was a dog or a wolf. - But they say you're on our side now, too. I didn't expect so..."
Blue dropped his grip on Harold defiantly, but clearly he wouldn't let go. He had his eye on Harold as a victim, for who would begrudge a thief who would steal the treasures of an ancient bloodline?
- I have an accommodation with your Lord," Harold said coldly.
Fenrir snorted: - But he won't be pleased when he finds out you've been stealing from his followers.
- He won't..." Potter exhaled, pulling himself up on his shoulder blades with an audible effort to unleash his dagger in the next instant. - No one would feel sorry for the killer of dozens of children and humans, and the werewolf who infected as many more with lycanthropy," Potter grinned indifferently as he tossed the lifeless body off him and magically cleansed himself of blood. He mentally praised himself for deciding not to put it off for a couple of days and getting it done before the full moon. Though if he'd come back later, he might not have stumbled upon Strong.
Rising from the floor, he suddenly realized that his magic, the power of his desire, had not worked on Siwom either. So he was certain that he had not chosen to break the laws again for nothing, for the sake of knowledge of his abilities.
And yet, as he burned the body with a spell that left no trace and which had been used to arrange a burial, Harold thought sadly that if he killed an assassin, the number of assassins would not change... He hurried to get into the secret vault (and how could goblins know about it?!) and out of the manor before the return of his masters. And it was a good thing that his magic, made it easy for him to get through almost any level of magical protection...
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