Chapter 333. And, As Early As Next Year
The way things unfolded was a bit beyond expectation—Ron actually set up another duel with Malfoy, and the date was two months from now.
Watching Malfoy strut off with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels, Ron finally sat down beside Harry, his face tight.
"Too rash," Harry murmured. "That was clearly Malfoy goading you—he just wants you to make a fool of yourself in front of the whole school."
"There are still a full two months," Ron said earnestly. "I won't necessarily lose. And… he just called Hermione a Mudblood…"
"Oh, I didn't take it to heart at all," Hermione said without looking up, though a hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. "But he does deserve a lesson, Ron."
Ron nodded, turned to Harry, and for once wore a serious expression. "Harry, will you help me practise duelling?"
Harry blinked, then smiled. "Of course. Two months is enough to change a great deal."
At the same time, Adrian Wesson had only just stepped through the castle doors when Professor McGonagall stopped him in his tracks.
"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you," she said, grave. "It seems important."
Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the Headmaster's office, Wesson saw Dumbledore hunched over a huge sheet of parchment on the desk.
"Oh, there you are, Wesson," he looked up and adjusted his glasses. "I've been waiting for you for quite some time."
"Professor McGonagall took a bit to find me," Wesson stepped forward and glanced at the parchment. "Is that…?"
"A map," Dumbledore explained. "I'm searching for something… important."
Wesson skimmed it briefly.
It seemed to be a map of the Midlands—or perhaps the south of England.
"Let me guess," he said after a moment's thought. "Is it something to do with Voldemort? A Horcrux?"
Dumbledore's fingers paused, ever so slightly.
"You're always so perceptive, Wesson," he said.
In truth, Wesson felt only matters concerning Voldemort could make Dumbledore this intent.
"So," he nodded a little, "you called me here for that? I'm afraid I won't be of much help."
"In fact, no."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Do you remember the Dark wizard you caught ten days ago?"
"There's news?"
"Yes," Dumbledore came out from behind the desk. "Do you know Theodore Nott?"
"Theodore Nott?"
Wesson thought for a moment, and a tall, skinny silhouette surfaced in his mind.
If he remembered correctly, that was a Slytherin student in the same year as Harry.
He didn't have much impression of him and knew little about him—only that he wasn't very sociable.
As an aside, the Nott family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
"He's connected to that Dark wizard?"
"In fact, that Dark wizard was Theodore Nott's father," Dumbledore said evenly. "Mr Nott was among the first Death Eaters to follow Voldemort. Like some of them, after Voldemort's downfall he avoided Azkaban by certain means."
Wesson nodded.
That's the fate of following Voldemort, he thought with a touch of rue.
Voldemort never regarded Death Eaters as subordinates; he saw them as expendable, to be cast aside at any time.
Like Mr Nott.
An early, senior member of the Death Eaters, and in the end he fell under the Imperius Curse—and lost his life.
"How did you handle it, Professor?" Wesson asked, curious. "And Theodore Nott? How is he?"
Dumbledore shook his head, and a shadow of solemnity crossed his face.
"Theodore Nott likely doesn't know yet," he sighed. "I will tell him that his father was controlled by Voldemort's Imperius Curse, and then killed. Sadly, there wasn't even a body left."
"No body left?"
Wesson was puzzled. The body had only been missing a hand—so why…
Dumbledore quickly answered his doubt. "After I confirmed his identity, it caught fire of its own accord—likely a form of self-destructive Dark magic. Quite ingenious."
"I didn't detect that magic."
"Released through the Dark Mark—no one would have expected it," Dumbledore went on. "In fact, I've told no one about this yet. At present only you and I know the truth. Oh, and that reporter."
"The Ministry of Magic?"
Wesson was a little surprised.
Ordinarily, handing this over to the Ministry would be the correct and most convenient thing to do.
Yet Dumbledore had chosen to conceal it; that was odd.
"The Ministry isn't to be trusted right now," Dumbledore shook his head. "We both know Voldemort and the Death Eaters have begun to stir again, but there is never any shortage of muddle-headed people in this world—and worse, there are rather a lot of them."
Wesson knew he meant Cornelius Fudge.
Indeed, if Fudge heard of this, he would likely treat it as a simple case of a Dark wizard intrusion.
And refuse to connect it to Voldemort in the slightest.
"So how did Rita Skeeter find Theodore Nott?" Wesson asked.
"Oh, that may be a bit complicated," Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "I questioned Ms Skeeter again two days ago. The process was rather unpleasant, but I did learn a few things—Skeeter posted a job at a hidden underground market and brought in Mr Nott."
"What a fool."
Wesson sighed.
He couldn't fathom where the man found such nerve.
Now everything had been sorted out—because he had learned Rita Skeeter's Animagus form, Rita Skeeter posted a job in the underworld seeking a Dark wizard to deal with him,
Voldemort's men took the contract, and then the rest followed.
It had to be said—a casual remark from him had set off this many chain reactions.
Best to be cautious with one's words.
The affair of the Dark wizard had come to an end.
But this wasn't the only reason Dumbledore had invited him over.
After a cup of tea, Dumbledore suddenly said, "I've been considering inviting you to join the Order of the Phoenix."
"?"
Wesson looked baffled. "The Order of the Phoenix… wasn't it disbanded?"
Though it was called a secret organisation, most who had lived through that era had heard of it.
Wesson was no exception.
"Oh, I never said that," Dumbledore smiled faintly. "It has merely been inactive. I intend to rebuild it,
to prepare for the days ahead."
The Order of the Phoenix, hm…
Wesson thought it over.
Joining Dumbledore's organisation wasn't a bad thing—after all, making Voldemort disappear from this world was one of his aims as well.
However, there was a more pressing question.
"Professor Dumbledore," Wesson asked gravely, "are you certain Voldemort will return?"
At this, Dumbledore fell silent for a while.
Then—
"I am," he said calmly. "And as early as next year."
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