ACT3CH13 - A Most Diabolical Curse (Patreon)

“What do you think this is about?”

Harry gave Fleur a half-shrug, as they approached the stone gargoyle. He had received a sudden missive from Dumbledore to visit him in his office. That wasn’t surprising, given the number of missives he had gotten from the Headmaster over the years, a number that had drastically risen ever since the start of term. What really surprised him however, was the request to bring Fleur with him.

“Dumbledore’s mind works in weird and byzantine ways,” he said. “I’ve learned that it’s best to not bother bursting my nerves trying to figure it out, and instead let the old man have his moment. Whatever it is, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Knitting patterns,” he said.

The gargoyle groaned, and spun around, sliding to the side, revealing the familiar spiral stone staircase behind it.

“You’re oddly used to his ways.”

“You’d be too if you were in my place. I doubt any other student has been to his office as many times as I have.”

“Zat’s not something to be proud of.”

“Maybe not in that glass cathedral you call a school.”

Fleur rolled her eyes. “Beauxbatons is so much better than ‘Ogwarts.”

“And yet, you’re here.”

“That’s because you’re here, mon amour,” she said, putting her arms around his own. “I didn’t join ‘Ogwarts because I like the shabby stone walls.”

“Mmm.”

Reaching the office door, Harry just stood there, doing nothing. Confused, Fleur reached for the door knob when —

“Come in, Miss Delacour, Mr. Potter.”

He smirked. Just as he thought, there was a proximity ward placed around the door knob, and not the door itself. He wondered if it was the ward that reported the identities of all the people standing outside the door, or if it was because Dumbledore expected both of them to show up together.

Something to test later.

Stepping into the large circular room, his eyes almost automatically went to the silver instruments, at the little noises coming out of them at odd intervals. He heard a soft trilling and noticed Fakes trilling at him from the window sill. He was relieved to see that the bird looked fit, if somewhat undersized. After what happened to the phoenix wand, he didn’t want his touch to kickstart a brand new burning day. His eyes turned to the other side where the dusty old Sorting Hat was lying on the cupboard next to the table, and finally met Dumbledore’s eyes.

“Please, take a seat.”

There were two more people sitting inside the room. As Harry stepped in with Fleur, the two people turned around to meet his eyes, and he felt Fleur freeze in her tracks.

“Weeliam!”

“Fleur,” came the cold response.

“Hey, Bill,” said Harry, trying to lighten the obviously tense moment. “And Hi, uh, Cathle—”

“Caroline,” said the woman sitting next to the eldest Weasley child. “Caroline Rakepick.”

“Lemon drop, Harry?”

He rolled his eyes, and on a whim, grabbed a single toffee from the Headmaster’s bowl and put it into his mouth. It was sickeningly sweet, and Harry wondered how on earth the man kept eating them all day.Despite the rumour, the sweets weren’t exactly laced with veritaserum and calming droughts. If they were, Albus Dumbledore would’ve been the most truthful man alive.

He nodded, and took a seat, with Fleur sitting right next to him. The Headmaster took in the entire thing with an air of amused interest.

“You must be wondering why I asked you to meet me in my office so suddenly,” began Dumbledore. “It’s been two weeks since Halloween now, and William and his team have been thoroughly investigating the castle, searching for the source behind the curse on the DADA position. They have finally accumulated all their findings in an official report,” he patted a folder lying on his table, “but before they leave, they wish to explain their findings to you directly.”

“What? Why me?”

The Headmaster regarded him with his intense, blue eyes. “You sponsored this, Harry. Is it not fitting that you should know what they ended up finding out?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Were they unable to get rid of it?”

“Alas,” said Dumbledore. “It would seem that this curse, if we might call it so, is far more diabolical than we anticipated. I’ll let William and Miss Rakepick take it from here.”

“And why am I here, ‘Eadmaster?” asked Fleur.

“You are here because of all the staff members present at Hogwarts, you are most equipped to understand the nature of wards, Miss Delacour. As I understand, spell deconstruction and forensic analysis is one of your specialties. If there is a chance that the Workshop could use these findings,” he patted the folder again, “and ameliorate it even slightly, then I believe it’s worth a try.”

“This curse has gotten all of us stumped,” said Caroline. “And believe me, we’ve tried everything we could think of. From Romanian weaving, to the Aztec deconstruction methods, to Egyptian scrying and goblin tools,  but this curse just befuddles us all. We feel like we’re missing something, a critical element that simply doesn’t show up in our tests. And we’ve heard of Mr. Potter’s unconventional magical discipline so…”

“You don’t exactly have to find the source, Harry,” said Bill with a chagrin. “All we want is a second opinion from a magical discipline that we aren’t familiar with. If you can make some headway, then that’s great. Otherwise, we’ll have to look into alternatives.”

“So, you failed to break it, Weeliam?”

Caroline flushed, while Bill went red in anger. “We did everything we could. This curse is just —”

“Too strong?” saidFleur with so much false sympathy that Harry almost mistook her for Umbridge. “Well you will definitely get zere. After all, you are ze best curse-breaker.”

“It’s a little harder than that” said Caroline quickly, noting the expression on Bill’s face. “But first, Mr. Potter —”

“Harry, please.”

The woman smiled. “Harry then. Tell me, are you familiar with causality manipulation?”

Surprisingly, he was. After Daphne had thrown that term around, he had been quick to get to the Lair, and read up on the subject. From what little he could understand, it fiddled with the relationship between causes and effects, allowing one to decide what happened, and what didn’t. The simplest of causality manipulation fell within the accepted boundaries of accidental magic, while more complex variations of it were the moving forces behind Prophecies, and systemic alterations, causing permanent changes to the structure of Reality itself.

Kind of like how Trelawney had predicted that Pettigrew would be free that night, join Voldemort and cause his resurrection.

And he did.

It was stuff like this that made him wonder if he could even blame Voldemort for playing the part he did. If everything was ultimately ordained beforehand, then one’s ability to choose were nothing but illusions at best. He, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Grindelwald— people who played significant roles in the working of the world, were nothing but pawns that moved on invisible strings like puppets in a grand and twisted tale called Destiny.

Yeah, it gave him a headache just by thinking about it.

“A little bit,” he said at last. “Isn’t that what causes things like prophecies to exist?”

“Well, yes and no,” said Caroline. “Prophecies are grand acts of magic caused by temporal confluences and conjunctions that operate on a scale beyond our perception, but what we’re talking about is something far more smaller, and systemic.”

“As in?”

“We studied the nature of this curse extensively, Harry,” said Bill, who had regained his composure.
“It’s exclusively focussed on the position of the instructor responsible for teaching the students how to defend Against The Dark Arts.”

“Then why not change ze name of ze subject?” asked Fleur.

“I have already attempted that, Miss Delacour,” said Dumbledore with a frown. “In 1970, we altered the name to Battle Magic, and again in 1972, we renamed it to Mystical Combat Arts, and again in 1983, we altered the name to War Magic. At the Ministry’s suggestion, we tried renaming it Hit-Wizardry Preparation Course and Auror Principles 101, and Applied Magical Course, over the rest of the decade, before settling back down to calling it Defence Against the Dark Arts in 1989. It seems that no matter what we call the subject, so long as it concerns learning how to defend against the Dark Arts, the curse holds true.”

“I don’t get it,” said Harry, frowning. “We use transfiguration in duels all the time. Half the spells we use in DADA are charms.”

“You are missing the point, Harry,” said Bill. “Notice the words — ‘Defence’, ‘Against’, and ‘the Dark Arts’. It does not matter what you’re learning — transfiguration, charms, potions, or even stuff you make up,  so long as they are not exclusively taught to defend against the Dark Arts, the curse ignores it.”

Harry sat there, stunned. “So you’re telling me that we can have a professor that can teach us all kinds of hexes, jinxes and curses, and they’ll be free of the curse, but the moment they teach us something that can be used against the Dark Arts…”

“They are affected, yes. Look at Remus Lupin. We’ve studied his course aims, and we found that we exclusively focussed on defending against dangerous and potentially dark creatures. From what we understand, he taught everyone the boggart-banishing spell, and taught you the Patronus charm.”

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine.

Bill exhaled. “Yes. Dementors are regarded as one of the nastiest creations of the Dark Arts. And a Patronus is widely accepted as the one of the most prominent pieces of Light Magic, exclusively focussed on combating the Dark and the profane. The Boggart-banishing spell also falls under the same category. The moment Professor Lupin succeeded in teaching even a single student, in this case, you — the Patronus Charm, he ticked on all conditions that invoked the curse.”

“Which are?”

“The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, teaching students how to defend against the Dark Arts,” said Caroline.

“Contrary to what is commonly believed, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “We have had professors before that have managed to hold on to the post for more than a year. There had been Professor Bletchley who held the post from 1985 to the middle of ‘88. Professor Patil who held it from 1980 to ‘82. In the same vein, there was this unfortunate period during 1977 to 1979, when we had five professors, with none of them managing to last more than half a term.” He paused. “Wager a guess at why that was the case?”

“Because the war was at its peak?”

“Exactly, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “The War was at its peak, and the Dark forces were at their greatest strength. Dementors had shifted allegiances to Lord Voldemort’s side. Werewolves, vampires, giants, dark wizards from the lowliest thug to accomplished maestros of the Dark Arts, everyone was on his side. It was quite natural that learning to defend against them took a central stage in the curriculum.”

“Zus, activating the curse,” murmured Fleur.

“Yes.”

“Our records show a similar situation from 1991 onwards, Harry,” said Bill, giving him an inscrutable stare. “Can you guess why that might be true?”

“Because Voldemort had returned?” He asked. After all, Bill was part of the Order. He’d be the last person he’d have to convince about the Dark Lord’s return.

The curse-breaker shook his head.

“Not quite.”

Harry frowned.

“Think, Harry,” said Bill, a small sly smile forming on his face. “What was the other significant happening that took place and is continuing to this date? Something that wasn’t there in the eighties?”

Harry furrowed his temples. The eighties were the period of peace after the end of the disastrous war. People were finally returning to a life of normalcy. That didn’t mean there weren’t bad guys out there, or that Aurors and Hit-wizards weren’t out there. So obviously it couldn’t be that. The only thing that happened in ‘91 was—

“The Boy-Who-Lived joined Hogwarts,” said Bill with a smile.

“Ze Boy-Who-Lived is just a stupid name,” said Fleur, before pausing to look at Harry. At his nod, she regarded Bill. “It means nozzing!”

“It definitely doesn’t mean nothing, Miss Delacour,” said Dumbledore softly. “The Boy-Who-Lived is a symbol of faith in the belief that Evil, no matter how great, shall eventually find its end at the hands of Good. Lord Voldemort, regarded as the one of the darkest wizards in recent history, found his end in the hands of a one-year-old child, whose parents had sacrificed their life to protect him. In fact, you’ll be pleased to know that the three holidays that the Azkaban Guard legally celebrate are Christmas, Halloween, and July 31st, the birthday of the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry sat there, stunned at Dumbledore’s words. “They— they celebrate my birthday?”

The old man smiled. “You do not understand your own value in our world, Harry. I admit that is partly my fault for giving you such an isolated upbringing, but if you were to actually meet them, you’d understand what you are to them, the unique position you hold in the hearts of those that fight the good fight. Perhaps you should ask Sirius to take you to Godric’s Hollow sometime this Christmas. It’s a beautiful place, and you’ll see for yourself how the locals have preserved the Potter cottage. Every Halloween, the entire place lights up, and they have eulogies about the Potters, and wish you good health.”

“I —”His throat felt parched.  “I’d like to visit that place sometime.”

“The point is, Harry,” said Bill again. “You are a symbol in the fight against the Dark. And helping that symbol learn how to defend against the Dark makes the curse react just that aggressively.”

“So if I were to leave Hogwarts —”

“The curse would probably lose its impact by a massive degree, yes,” Bill admitted. “But that’s not a solution.”

“No,” said Harry. “But it’s the truth.”

“... Yes.”

Harry met Bill’s eyes for over a minute, clearly a debate going on in his mind before he turned his head and looked at the window. Fawkes let out another trill and flew across the room to settle on his perch, before trilling again.

When Harry finally started to speak, his voice was very quiet and his cadence slow.

“What… What does this curse actually do?”

“Ah, now that is quite the interesting part,” said Caroline. Her cheerful attitude actually caught him by surprise, almost like a whiplash. “Are you familiar with the concept of probability?”

He nodded, slowly. Part of studying Arithmancy was recognizing the significance that probability played in spell creation.

“Good. That makes this easier. Basically, whenever someone ticks all three conditions, triggering the curse, it imposes a single outcome on the victim.”

“They cannot continue teaching at ‘Ogwarts?” asked Fleur.

“Exactly,” said Caroline with a smile.

“Wait,” said Harry. “But that’s a very vague thing to apply. I mean, there can be lots of reasons why someone cannot continue teaching…”

“You’re right, ‘Arry,” said Fleur. “But in zis case, it actually ‘elps.”

“I don’t understand.”

Bill chuckled. “Manipulating fate is tricky business, Harry. You are ensuring that no matter what happens, a particular outcome must come to pass. The more vague the outcome, the less resistance you’ll face from the Timestream. That’s why prophecies are so vague. It waits, patiently, until the conditions are ticked off, and then imposes the outcome it wants — forcing the instructor to leave Hogwarts. Doesn’t matter what the cause is —  death, immolation, obliviation, Imperius, resignation, health issues — use your imagination.”

Harry cocked his head. Something was tickling the back of his mind, something that just didn’t fit into the explanation that Bill and Caroline were giving him.

“What about Lockhart? And Quirrell? Quirrell was working for Voldemort. And he stuttered all day, and we couldn’t even understand half the things he said, much less learn from him. And I doubt Voldemort would’ve wanted him to teach how to defend against the Dark.”

Bill arched his eyebrow.

“And then there’s Lockhart. He was a fraud that didn’t even know anything other than to preach about his own greatness, and sign letters to his fans. All he could do was obliviate people. I don’t see how either of them could’ve been affected by the curse.”

“You’re right, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “They didn’t.”

“But then —”

“My boy,” said the Headmaster with a smile. “Hogwarts is a magical edifice that was constructed over a confluence of four major ley lines, and has been the ground for the education and training for thousands and thousands of witches and wizards for over a thousand years. It has more secrets than we can possibly imagine. Are you really that arrogant to believe that Hogwarts cannot possibly house more than one mystery at a time?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him.

“The Department of Mysteries has a vast chamber dedicated to storing prophecies. Unless I am wrong, the number of prophecies in it that are currently active is close to over sixteen thousand. Do you understand that, Harry? Sixteen thousand plus cases of Causality manipulation, directly or indirectly shaping millions of events so elegantly that we never see those strings in action. The trap with the Stone was what drew Tom Riddle into this school. Quirinus’s choosing to let Tom possess him. Your courage that led a child with barely a year of magical education to resist him. Your Peverell lineage that burned Quirinus upon contact. Your strong character that allowed you to resist the allure of the Stone. A combination of all of those effects led to Quirinus’s death at your hands, Harry. Trying to pin it all on the curse not only makes it look more diabolical than it actually is, but also does grave injustice to your own character and efforts to stop Voldemort.”

“And… Lockhart?” asked Fleur. Harry had told her stories about the man and how things ended up for him.

“Gilderoy Lockhart was actually hired by the Board of Governors, and his application was sponsored by Lucius Malfoy. You might not have known this, but the other professors submitted letters to the Board several times over, to oust Gilderoy from the job. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy thought differently. If not for his… unfortunate self-obliviation, I’m afraid he would have continued to hold the post.”

Harry stared at the man, baffled. “So you’re telling me that both of them getting fired has nothing to do with the curse?”

Dumbledore’s moustache quivered. “I believe so.”

Harry turned to the two curse-breakers. “What else did you find out?”

Bill frowned. “Not very much, to be honest. And whatever we did find out, wasn’t anything that Professor Dumbledore didn’t already know from the beginning. No curse, no matter how powerful, can linger around without an anchor to tie it down. And it would need a constant supply of magic to keep it empowered. Naturally, we believe that it is connected to the ley lines flowing underneath the castle, through a wardstone that is not under the direct control of the Headmaster.”

“Like the Chamber of Secrets?” Fleur asked.

“Yes,” said Bill, not even looking at her. “And as the professor keeps telling me, there are many hidden rooms inside the castle that not even the Headmaster knows about. Even worse is that unlike other curses, its target is intangible — the DADA position. We believe that the curse has entrenched itself so deeply over the decades, that the only option to get rid of it would be to dismantle the Hogwarts wards themselves, assuming we can even do that.”

Harry sighed. That meant they were down to square one. Sure, they now knew a lot about the curse, but unless they actually managed to find it, it would make no difference. And anyone that could teach them anything about actually defending against the Dark Arts would be affected by its malicious effects.

“Guess all of this was for nothing then…” he murmured. “Voldemort is back, and we cannot even learn how to fight him. And I doubt standard duelling spells will be enough to stand against the Death Eaters.”

“Absolutely correct, Harry,” said Dumbledore, giving him a strangely intense look. “Which is yet another reason why I summoned you here. After listening to William and Miss Rakepick and studying their findings in detail, I believe there is an alternative that they have not considered yet. An alternative that can help us get rid of the curse for good.”

Harry perked up at that.

Even Bill and Caroline looked at the man surprised.

“There’s a way?” asked Harry. “How?”

“You see, Harry, I’ve made it a habit to keep up with the latest developments of the Workshop. And unless I am wrong, you have proved it, several times since the summer, that the power of Death provides you with an immunity against spells of esoteric nature, or more specifically… curses. I was most traumatised to find out that you had been hit by the Transmogrifian torture curse in the summer, and utterly exhilarated to know that you still managed to heal within minutes of its exposure.”

Both Bill and Caroline went from gaping at the Headmaster to gaping at Harry. Not that Harry cared, he was too busy glaring at Fleur who had suddenly found the floor to be extremely interesting.

“Please do not be annoyed at Miss Delacour,” said Dumbledore. “She is supposed to document every single effect that your Death-powers have on magics, isn’t she? Come to think of it, isn’t that also the basis behind your attempts to cure Miss Greengrass’s blood curse?”

“What’s your point?” asked Harry, still annoyed, before he realised who he was talking to, and hastily added, “Sir?”

“My point, my boy,” said the smiling Headmaster, “is that given your recent public performance in Madam Umbridge’s class against Mr. Malfoy and his friends, as well as your private performance, as witnessed by several young ladies, you are quite the skilled combatant with a strong exposure and experience with fighting against the Dark Arts.”

Harry heard Fleur sharply inhale. Even Bill and Caroline were giving him strange looks.

Damn it. He hated it when he missed the subtext.

Staring at the Headmaster for several long moments, he asked in a particularly calm voice. “What are you really telling me, Professor?”

The old man looked inordinately pleased. “I’m pleased to offer you, Harry James Potter, the position of Interim Professor for the Defence Against the Dark Arts for the remainder of the term.”

“Ohm— wait what?”

“I am offering you the position of Interim Professor for the Defence Against the Dark Arts for the remainder of the term,” repeated Dumbledore blandly.

“You — have you gone crazy, Professor?”

“A long time ago, as some people tell me, but that is neither here nor there.”

Harry stood up, opening and closing his mouth over and over. “You — I — I mean, I can’t be a professor. I’ve not even passed my OWLs.”

“True, true,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head like an old elephant. “But that is where the discretionary powers of the Headmaster come into play. You will remember, not very long ago, representatives of all four Houses came to visit you, and request you to teach them Defence.”

“Only because Umbridge wasn’t teaching them!” He bellowed.

“And you are the Winner of the Triwizard Tournament, an adult in the eyes of Magic, a Lord at the Wizengamot, and a registered Warlock.”

“Which has got nothing to do with becoming a professor!”

“I’ll agree,” said the blasted old man. “But your unique magical condition, your Peverell family magic, and importantly, your ability to shrug off any curse that affects you, would be the perfect counter against this diabolical curse that has been crippling students for decades. If you choose to accept this position, you will be doing a great service to Hogwarts for a second time.”

Just moments ago, he had been blaming himself for the curse acting so strongly. The idea that he had been impairing the education for all the other students wasn’t something he wanted on his conscience. And the blasted old man knew what he was thinking. For Merlin’s sake, he had even vocalised his own worries about it out loud.

But if he became the — fucking hell! He couldn’t even think it without feeling incredulous — if he took the job of the Defence professor, at least in the interim, it would allow Bill and his team the chance to see the curse at play without anyone getting hurt, killed or otherwise. With his Death magic constantly neutralising the curse, no doubt it would put a serious strain on the source of this curse, and who knew, this might even end up damaging it, ending the curse for good.

“I think you should take this offer, ‘Arry,” Fleur murmured to him softly. “Even the others wanted you to teach them, didn’t they? And you know what she would say as well.”

“But Fleur. I can’t be — I mean, a professor? Me? Who’d take me seriously?”

“The entire fifth school, I believe,” said Fleur. “Or have you forgotten how you got them to mutiny against that woman?”

“I agree with her,” said Caroline. “I understand we’re asking a lot from you. But if you do this, there is a very real chance of getting rid of this curse and finding out whatever is causing it.”

“Take it, Harry,” said Bill, beaming at him. “Just imagine! A professor before you even sat in your OWLs. Gotta be a record!”

“The Minister is going to have a fit.”

“And when has the Minister’s beliefs ever stopped you from doing the right thing, Harry?”

“Professor!” said Harry stubbornly. “Umbridge is still the High Inquisitor. Fudge put her to start inspecting teachers. Are you seriously telling me that she’ll let this happen?”

“I believe she will not have a choice in this case,” said the Headmaster. “I will be submitting a copy of these findings to the Board of Governors, which is, as you know, being led by Joshua Greengrass. The way I see it, you who have already donated a hefty amount of gold, enough to have a fifth House declared after your own name, are doing yet another favour to Hogwarts. If the Minister and the High Inquisitor have a problem with that, let them deal with the Board of Governors first. And there is always the media after that.”

“But —”

“I am not trying to rush you, Harry,” he went on. “Take your time. Talk to Sirius. Think about it deeply, and once you have made your decision, let me know. I swear I will accept your decision without comment. My only request is that whatever you choose, you do so after going over everything we talked about, taking it to heart, and being sure without a doubt, whether or not your decision is worth the consequences they invoke. ”

Harry’s body slackened slightly, realising what he was getting at. Dumbledore had more or less claimed that his taking up the job would get rid of the curse, and free the school and its students from its foul effects. And if Harry ended up rejecting the offer knowing all that, it would mean that he was condoning the effects of the curse. The next time some innocent died at the hands of a dark wizard because of lack of proper defence training, it would be on his head.

What a hypocrite the man was. He was saying one thing, but he meant something else entirely.

It was funny because he had said the same thing not too long ago.

Hadn’t he admitted to Fleur that drastic measures were needed if they expected change to occur in Wizarding Britain? Seeing the students rise in mutiny against Umbridge was one sign that things could move ahead for the better, but the curse would ensure that generations of students would remain ill-trained against the forces of Darkness. And he, Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, but Harry Potter, Warlock and Peverell Vessel, had a chance to help them take the next step.

He wished them to solve their own problems, but in the process of not acting, he might as well be destroying their ability to do so in the same gesture.

Yet another crossroads he was finding himself in.

A small smile formed on his lips. “Forgive me for saying this, Professor Dumbledore, but you’re an absolute pain in the arse.”

That made the old man smile. “I’m delighted to know that, Harry. But does that mean you have agreed to my proposal?”

Technically, he should have consulted Sirius about it. But knowing him, there was no way his godfather would deny this. Especially because for once, he wasn’t truly in danger. They had seen enough evidence of that lately.

That didn’t mean Sirius wouldn’t be pissed though.

He sighed. “Very well, you’ve a Defense professor, you manipulative old man.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore clapped with a wide grin, not at all bothered by his accusation. “In that case, allow me to be the first to welcome you as a member of our staff, Professor Harry Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes.