Extreme Mode

Chapter 8. Extreme Mode

Dumbledore sat in his carved chair behind the claw-footed table in his office. But instead of empty seats, the table was surrounded by three more people, which was unusual considering the hour of the night.

"What is it, Albus? Why did you summon us?" Slughorn grumbled, pulling on his blue nightclothes. He'd have liked to change into something more presentable, but Fawkes hadn't been in the mood to listen.

"I'd like to know that too. It was quite rude to be brought here without any warning. Am I a prisoner, Minister Potter?" Narcissa drawled, fixing James with a displeased look. Unlike Slughorn, she wasn't embarrassed by the state of her clothing.

Then again, it was just a loose, white knee-length tunic, which, while informal and showing some skin, wasn't too revealing.

"I'm just as clueless as you, Narcissa." James responded tiredly.

Dumbledore's announcement brought a stunned silence, halting the conversation before it could start. "All the horcruxes in my possession are gone."

James snapped his face towards him—not lethargic anymore—and looked on disbelievingly, while Narcissa and Slughorn paled in horror, realising the gravity of the situation.

"I don't know how or why. One moment they were there, and the next they weren't. Narcissa, please go and see if the horcrux you've hidden is gone too," Dumbledore said in a sombre tone.

She immediately jumped out of the chair and turned around to leave the room. But then she froze and glanced over her shoulder, giving him a suspicious look. "How can I be sure that this isn't a ruse to take that horcrux from me?"

Because if it was, she couldn't afford to lose it. The hidden horcrux was the only thing that allowed her to exert some power over them. And it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Dumbledore was done listening to her requests and was attempting to remove the leverage.

The gathering of the horcruxes, this unusual alliance—it all started about a decade ago.

After the Dark Lord's fall, the Ministry took everything from her, calling it reparations for all that the Malfoy family did in the war. The family estate, the bank accounts, and even the family heirlooms were confiscated, leaving her homeless.

It was cruel and aggressive, but people were angry, and so was the government, doubly so after the Hogsmeade Massacre. And the brunt of the public's rage fell on them.

It wasn't just her who had become destitute; all the pureblood families who were even tangentially involved in the Dark Lord's campaign were given the same courtesy. That was the moment she knew she had no choice but to jump ship if she wanted to survive. So she had brought the peculiar diary to Dumbledore, the one that the Dark Lord had entrusted to Lucius.

That had been the momentous decision of her life. That day, she came to know about horcruxes. That day, she realised the Dark Lord was alive.

If she were someone else from her faction, she'd have rejoiced and tried to find a way to revive the boogeyman. But unlike her foolish friends and families, she knew the return of the Dark Lord would do nothing but add another disaster to their crumbling lives. So she aligned herself with Dumbledore and Potter, and tried to help her fellow purebloods with the small influence she had over her new allies.

The purebloods soon grew to admire her for all she did for them.

It was because of her that they were able to get back their homes and a portion of their wealth.

It was because of her that they regained a shadow of their former lives.

But not everything went well for Narcissa herself. The home and the wealth that she recovered from the government had to be sold off to pay the ludicrous debts. Apparently, Lucius had taken many loans from foreign banks to boost the Dark Lord's campaign. And it was her responsibility to pay back.

She still cursed her husband every day for that decision.

Knowing she had only few options to survive, she sought out her cousin and requested that he reinstate her in the Black Family. That would provide her with home and safety. Yes, she had to sleep with her lecherous cousin every time he returned to Britain from his travels. But she was clever enough to know when to shed her pride and see the bigger picture. Honestly, he wasn't even a bad lay. On the contrary, he was quite an attentive lover, unlike her husband. So sleeping with him to gain the Black name and the influence—which wasn't much after the war—was a good deal in her eyes.

Her life returned to its tracks once again, and this time she even had the freedom to do whatever she wanted. There were no parents or a husband to decide her fate anymore. And Sirius, for all his faults, wasn't a controlling man.

Over the years, the new alliance had found a couple more horcruxes.

The Diary. The Cup. The Diadem. The Locket.

Except for the cup, the others were easy to acquire. And with the help of Slughorn, they knew there might be three more horcruxes out there. That was why they hadn't destroyed them yet, planning to do it once they had gathered all the anchors.

But instead of giving the locket to Dumbledore—which she found in her home, Grimmauld Place, 12—she kept it with herself, using it as leverage in case of emergencies.

That leverage had made her the Defence professor.

That leverage had made her the head of Slytherin.

But she knew if she ever stepped over the line, Dumbledore would forsake his honour and take the locket by force. So it was good that she never planned to do that in the first place. She was happy with her current lifestyle. She was content with preserving and sharing the traditions with only the Slytherins.

If not for the debacle with Harry Evans, she wouldn't even consider that Dumbledore might use treachery to get the locket. And she still didn't truly believe that.

But a suspicion had taken root in her mind.

Were the horcruxes really gone? Or was Dumbledore trying some mind games?

"Narcissa, the locket is in the hidden box stuffed under the floor of your bedroom in Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said in a soft tone, his eyes gleaming knowingly. "I could have taken it whenever I wanted. Just go and check if it's there or not. I neither have time nor patience for your games."

…

With a thundering heart, she hurried out of the room, cursing herself for underestimating the old man.

She never had power over Dumbledore, she realised.

It had been an illusion all along—an old man allowing her to play make-believe.

Dumbledore looked at James, who was ready to listen, unlike the sole woman in their alliance. "I need you to go to Azkaban. Check the marks on the Death Eaters' hands. See if it has darkened or not. We must know if Voldemort is finally making a comeback."

Without another word, James used the portkey provided by the headmaster and went to the Ministry.

From there, he'd take another portkey to Azkaban.

The only thought running through James' mind was, 'I hope Lily never knows that her sacrifice has been in vain. That the loss of her magic and shortening of her life were all for nothing.'

"What will happen now?" Slughorn asked.

Dumbledore slumped back, rubbing his brow. "I don't know, Horace. I don't know."

Ten minutes later, Narcissa flounced into the room. The terror in her eyes was enough of an answer, yet she voiced her findings, sinking into her chair. "It's gone."

"Then we just need to wait for James." Dumbledore sighed, already pondering what he'd say to the Order after summoning them. It had been a decade since the Order of Phoenix was disbanded, and he took no pleasure in calling them back for a reunion.

James portkeyed into the room not long after that, but what he uttered didn't make any sense.

"The dark mark has altogether vanished. What does that mean?"

The bamboozled occupants of the room turned towards the headmaster, who wasn't any less astonished than them. "That means Voldemort is dead."

James collapsed in the chair beside Narcissa. She herself couldn't hide her wide, relieved grin, and Slughorn almost looked on the verge of shedding happy tears.

But Dumbledore's lack of enthusiasm dampened their rising spirits.

Under their apprehensive stares, he elaborated. "While it is a happy occasion, I can't help but fear the being who can steal the horcruxes from right under our noses."

That took the wind out of their sails.

"Can it be that Belphegor demon?" James leaned forwards, putting his elbows on the table, his brown eyes glowing hatefully, still unable to forget the village filled with mutilated dead bodies.

"Perhaps." That was all Dumbledore said in response, because blindly blaming the demon was unhelpful.

"Then you should talk with Evans. Maybe you can force the truth out of her." Narcissa muttered darkly, still not over the punch she had taken from the uncouth barbarian.

Slughorn added his own two sickles. "While I wouldn't word it that way, Narcissa might be onto something. Conveniently, I have a batch of truth serum ready for use."

James remained quiet, neither agreeing nor protesting.

But Dumbledore was having none of it. "That would be quite redundant. I know Lily is innocent. She has no connection with the demon."

"But didn't the demon insinuate it was her?" Narcissa arched her eyebrows and looked at him expectantly, thinking he was trying to shield the barbarian.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The demon's exact words were, 'a desperate mother wanting to save her child'. That can be anyone from the magical world. After all, Lily wasn't the only mother trying to protect her son and wishing for Voldemort's demise. The demon was intentionally being vague to protect her client's identity and mislead us. Leave Lily alone; she has suffered enough from taking the fall for a crime that she didn't even commit."

The other three weren't brave enough to hold his fiery gaze for more than a second.

"Then what are we supposed to do? We can't just ignore the killer of Voldemort." James finally spoke up.

"We wait. There's nothing else we can do. In the meantime, keep strengthening the Auror force. And also ask Alice to recruit more members for the Anti-Demon Squad. If this was really Belphegor's doing, then we better be prepared to avert another massacre."

Giving the old man parting nods, the other three left the room.

~xXxXx~

Harry was seated in a library chair with a novel spread open on the table.

Although he wasn't as big of a bookworm as he had been a couple of years ago, he still liked the idea of picking up a book every once in a while and bingeing it for eight to ten hours.

That was what he was trying to do—ignore the world and escape into fantasy.

But the people around him were jerks, not allowing him even this small mercy. Which was shown blatantly when Susan poked him in the ribs, startling him out of his reading trance.

That was incredibly rude. He nearly lost it and would've punched her in the nose if she wasn't his friend.

"What?" He hissed, barely containing the violent urge, and looked at his side, where his sister had stopped working on her assignment and was staring at him instead. Hannah was there too, bemoaning and yet trudging through her essay.

"Where's Tracey?" The ginger asked, guessing something was off because Harry was never seen without his 'girlfriend', as Hannah enjoyed saying. And it had already been an hour since they gathered in the library for a study session. Tracey should've been here by now.

Harry shrugged and muttered, "Dunno."

"Are you two by any chance fighting?" She asked curiously. Because she couldn't remember if they'd ever fought before. From what she had seen, Tracey and Harry were quite close, which was to be expected when they only had each other as friends in their entire Hogwarts house.

He frowned and tilted his head in thought. "No, we're not fighting."

"Then what's the matter?"

He closed the book and looked at her reluctantly. The two siblings had also gotten close this year, which was not a surprise when his friend circle remained so small. After Tracey, he considered Susan and Hannah to be his closest friends. Neville and Hermione were his friends too, but he couldn't find enough opportunities to spend time with the Gryffindors. He'd have to see if he could change that in the future. His mum had asked him to treat Neville as a brother after all. He couldn't ignore her request.

Focusing on the present, he said what had been bothering him for the past week. "Tracey is hiding something from me. Every day, for a couple of hours, she vanishes somewhere. And whenever I ask her where she has been, she simply tells me not to worry about it."

Susan and Hannah dropped their quills and gave him their full attention.

"Maybe she has other girl friends. You shouldn't worry too much." Susan suggested, not seeing the problem here. No matter how close Harry and Tracey were, he was still a boy. It wasn't impossible that Tracey had made a new female friend.

From his sour look, it was clear he didn't like her advice.

"Or, we can follow her and see what she's been up to," Hannah said with a growing smile, ready for anything that didn't involve studying.

And from his excited look, it was clear he liked her advice.

Susan sighed, shooting her best friend an irritated look for even suggesting that. But she knew these two wouldn't turn away from this path of stalking. So it was better that she stayed to stop them from getting into too much trouble. Her curiosity to see what Tracey was doing was definitely not a factor in this well-thought-out decision.

"Alright, we'll follow her tomorrow." Harry declared, getting nods from the other two.

~xXxXx~

"What is this?" Harry asked in awe, leaning forward and touching it.

The fabric was silver, and its texture felt more liquid than solid.

Susan grinned proudly and presented the strange item with relish. "It's the Potter family's Invisibility Cloak. Dad gave this to me as a Christmas gift."

Harry hid his jealousy and returned her grin.

This just made him hate his father some more.

Talk about favouritism, all he got from his father was a spell tome, which, while tremendously helpful and must have cost hundreds of galleons, still fell short of this beautiful heirloom.

Harry was unaware that it was James' attempt to make Susan feel more close to the family. Because there had been many instances in the past where Susan thought she was an outsider, that she didn't belong with the Potters. It was James' hope that this gesture would allow Susan to stop feeling like that and realise she was just as much his daughter as Harry and Julian were his sons.

"The plan is simple. We three would hide under the cloak and trail behind Tracey. Got it?" Hannah explained.

Harry nodded, understanding how helpful the cloak would be in this task. "I'll also cast stealth charms."

These were a set of spells that he had learned from the very book his father had given him as a Christmas present.

He conveniently forgot to be grateful for that.

Casting first on them and then on himself, he stomped his feet to test it.

There was no sound.

Taking the cloak from Susan, he spread it over them. Since he was a bit taller than the girls, it was decided he would hold it and be in the centre.

Susan and Hannah pressed on either side of him, wrapping their arms around his waist and doing their best not to stick out.

It was tight-fitting but doable.

"Now what?" Hannah whispered near his ear, making him bite back a laugh.

"Stop whispering in my ear; it tickles. We can talk normally due to the charms." Harry said, elbowing the blonde in the rib as a warning.

"Sorry," she whispered back again, giggling as he squirmed and tried not to laugh.

Even Susan's face broke into an amused smile, thinking whether she should join in the teasing or not.

Harry scowled, and just before he could declare an all-out tickling war with Hannah, Tracey walked past them hurriedly, making them freeze and hold their breaths.

It was one of the deserted corridors where he often saw her disappear. That was why they'd been waiting here for the past fifteen minutes.

Warning the girls to behave, he began following her. It was awkward and difficult with the way Susan and Hannah were attached to his sides, and their pace was also torturously slow since they had to move in sync or risk face-planting on the floor. But they persevered and kept their sights on Tracey, going through many hallways and taking many turns.

Soon, their brunette friend stopped at the door of an abandoned classroom. She looked surreptitiously to her left and then to her right. Once she confirmed she was alone, she pushed open the door and slipped inside.

The door closed behind her.

"What will we find? Lots of dead bodies or a forbidden lover?" Hannah commented with twitching lips, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"We won't have to wait too long to know." Harry muttered and closed the distance, stopping before the door.

"It's locked." Susan said as she tried to push it open.

Taking off the cloak, he handed it to Susan, deciding they didn't need it anymore.

Pulling out his wand, he pointed it towards the lock and intoned, "Alohomora!"

"Wait! What about stealth?" Hannah protested as the lock opened with a loud click, which should have alerted those inside.

"Fuck stealth." Harry snapped and kicked open the door, suddenly fearing that Tracey might be in some danger. Maybe she was getting blackmailed by the older Slytherins to keep quiet, which would explain why she had been hiding this from him.

Marching into the room like an angry bull, he came to a sudden stop. Hannah and Susan bumped into his back, grumbling and rubbing their noses. But even their eyes widened when they saw the occupants of the classroom.

On the farther side, near the professor's desk, two girls sat on a bench with their backs facing them, twirling their wands in practice and then saying the incantations.

The classroom was brightly lit, so it wasn't difficult to identify them.

"Forbidden lover it is." Hannah snorted.

But the scene didn't amuse Harry. Because the other girl was none other than Daphne Greengrass, the bully who had tormented Tracey on her first day. He couldn't comprehend why the two would have a secret study session when there was so much bad blood between them.

"Tracey!" He called out loudly and crossed his arms.

The two girls looked over their shoulders and stilled. Then they stood up and quickly approached them. Tracey had a bashful grin on her face, while Greengrass held a gentle smile. But the blonde's expression didn't fool him. She wasn't as smart as she liked to think, and her cruelty was plain to see in her chilly blue eyes.

"Harry, I see you followed after me. I was wondering when that would happen." Tracey chuckled, sidling to him and throwing her arm around his neck in a side hug, as if she hadn't been fraternising with enemies.

"Evans." Daphne said softly.

He deadpanned. "Tell me why I shouldn't reveal this to William Morris and make you a pariah too. Honestly, I'd pay to see you cry."

"So much hate for little ole me. May I know the reason? I don't recall ever offending you," Daphne said, offering him a quizzical look.

"I dunno, Greengrass. You just have a punchable face. A very punchable face."

The blonde laughed warmly and gave him a short bow before walking away. "If I ever feel like getting punched, I'll find you, Evans."

That just irritated him more. He wanted to rip off her polite mask and expose the ugliness hidden beneath it.

Turning to Tracey, he quirked his eyebrow expectantly.

Getting the signal, she told him what happened. "We've already made up. And we realised that we're very similar, so we easily get along. It all began when she sought me out earlier this week and asked me to teach her some spells that she had problems with. And it isn't for free; she's paying me to tutor her. So I obviously said yes. I mean, I'd need money once I go back to the orphanage in the summer."

Harry stared at her blankly before huffing. "Fine, do whatever you want. Just don't come crying to me when Greengrass springs a trap or devours your soul."

Tracey snickered and coiled her arms around him, amused when he instantly relaxed and hugged her back. "You don't need to be jealous. You're still my only best friend. Daphne is just a mere acquaintance."

"Me, jealous? Ha! I have Susan and Hannah!" He pulled away and grabbed the girls, who were silently watching the drama unfold. "I even have Neville. He easily trumps you. You can continue fraternising with the enemy for all I care."

"I will," she quipped with an eye roll.

"Now that we're done playing detective, can we go to the kitchen? I'm craving hot chocolate. And Harry can also get his daily fix of ice cream. That would surely improve his mood." Hannah announced before he could start ranting again about the evil Greengrass.

The mention of ice cream took most of his attention, and they started for the kitchen.

~xXxXx~

The rest of the year passed in a flurry of studying and training for Harry. And his progress remained fast and astounding. In about a year, he reached his mother's level. Now he could keep his eyes open and observe both the physical realm and the Magiscape together.

But once he gained all the knowledge his mum could provide, he hit a roadblock. The progress that had been likened to a bullet train turned into a man slogging through quicksand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through the wizard's or witch's intrinsic magical defence.

He had the ability to control animals or muggles, but when it came to magicals, all the expertise meant nothing. The only time his tendrils could pass through the golden silhouette of his mum was when she intentionally let her magic down.

The same was true for his mum, she could only affect his mind if he allowed her entry.

And that meant Magiscape was useless in a practical sense. After all, what was the use of mastering a super secret method of utilising magic when it couldn't be used on fellow magicals? So it was understandable that Harry was frustrated when his progress took a steep dive.

Presently, he was in his mum's quarters at Hogwarts. It was the night before they'd return to the muggle world.

She was sitting in front of him cross-legged, like always. But instead of usually closing his eyes to access the Magiscape, he let them wide open. He had mastered Magiscape enough to see it without directly going there.

His mum's red hair had a golden sheen to it. So did her skin and eyes. It was as if someone was flashing a golden torchlight from behind her, pronouncing her outline. Of course, the analogy was not perfect. Because if someone really was flashing a torchlight from behind her, then her front would've turned dark and shadowed.

Discarding the distracting thoughts, he slammed his ethereal tendrils against her. And she did the same to him. But it was of no use; the golden tendrils simply passed through the physical body and ignored the golden sheen, which signified their magic.

Still, it was better than being violently thrown away. That had happened before. It was the reason they had loads of pillows piled behind them.

He loudly groaned and blinked, separating Magiscape from the physical world and turning his eyesight back to normal.

His mum smiled patiently as she too followed his example.

"I'm done with this shit. Three fucking months and not an iota of progress. I'm really done this time. I'd rather focus on the normal magic than slam my head repeatedly over this." Harry huffed and crossed his arms, deciding he wouldn't budge no matter what his mum said.

There was a limit to this madness. He couldn't continue any longer. It was like throwing a stone at a steel fortress and hoping it would make a difference. And he knew it wouldn't.

It seemed this was the limit of Magiscape. It was unparalleled in use when it came to animals or muggles, but wizards and witches were just too strong for this. They were the steel fortresses, and he was done throwing stones at them.

She chuckled and moved near him.

Standing on her knees, she cupped his face. "Such impatience. I've been stuck at this point for years; you don't see me abandoning it, do you?"

He groaned at the comparison. "I'm not you. I'm not perfect."

She rolled her eyes, pinching his cheeks. "Flattery won't get you out of this. You're stuck with me in this quest, adventurer. We must attain the strongest power in this world and wield it against evil. Would you abandon your beautiful companion at this crucial point?"

Harry snorted as his mum borrowed his jargon. And the smile on her pretty face told him that had been her goal.

She plopped before him, and he was quick to offer his shoulder.

Giving him a thankful nod, she leant against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

It seemed it wasn't just him who was getting tired of the constant failure. It was frustrating for her too. But where he could grow angry and throw tantrums, she couldn't.

"What will be the rewards for this annoying quest?" He asked, pulling her out of her head.

She remained silent for a second before looking at him intensely. "Alright. I'll show you the rewards."

Under his intrigued gaze, she stood on her knees and ambled behind him. Then she dropped on her butt and grabbed his shoulders. "Look at the vase on the bedside table."

Harry was confused by her request as she pressed behind him and gave instructions. "Okay. I'm looking at it."

"Good. Now extend your arm and will it to fly in your hand."

"Mum, I can't do wandless magic. I think you really need sleep."

"Harry, believe in me and do as I tell you."

He scrunched his eyebrows and pushed his hand before him. Then he simply willed the vase to fly into his hand, already knowing it would fail.

As expected, nothing happened.

"Don't do it like some limp old man! Believe it will happen! Where's your fucking energy and conviction?" She snapped and rubbed her face on his back.

Uh-oh, she was more frustrated than he realised. Better do it sincerely before she gets any more angry.

Extending his arm, he willed the vase to fly. And he believed it would happen. Because stranger things had happened in the universe before. Like Tracey and Daphne getting chummy over the past months. Compared to that, him suddenly learning wandless magic was the most normal thing ever.

He felt a tug in his hand.

Fwoosh!

The vase hurtled towards him at a dangerous speed.

If not for his mum batting it away with the pillow, he'd have a bruised head at best or a cracked skull at worst.

The sound of the ceramic vase breaking into infinitesimal parts filled the room. But his focus was on his mum's passionate whisper.

"We're playing on Extreme Mode. That's why everything is so damn hard. But it has one benefit. You can now easily speedrun Difficult Mode, which is wandless magic. Or Easy Mode, which is wand magic. So tell me, adventurer, are the quest rewards worthy enough for your troubles?"

Her great speech was ruined by his abrupt laughter. "It tickles! Stop whispering in my ear."

She groaned and fell on her back. "Spoilsport!"

Hovering over her, he grinned and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Yes, the quest rewards are great. Expect this companionship to last a lot longer."