Chapter 290: The Serpent's Script
"Uncle, first we need to clarify something fundamental," Aiden began, his projection flickering slightly as the magical connection stabilised. "How do you think the Ministry of Magic gained ruling power over scattered individual wizards in the first place?"
Rather than rushing to answer Arthur's confusion, Aiden posed this question with the patience of a seasoned teacher.
"Uh, through Aurors, perhaps? Or maybe the united army of the old Wizarding Council?" Arthur replied uncertainly, scratching his head in that familiar gesture that reminded Aiden so much of Ron.
"You actually know about the Wizarding Council. The Weasleys really are an old family," the Director muttered beside them, impressed despite himself.
"Wrong on both counts," Aiden said, shaking his head. "If a wizard is truly determined to live in complete seclusion, even someone as powerful as Dumbledore couldn't locate them. The magical world is vast, and there are countless hidden places where one could disappear entirely."
Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by this unexpected history lesson.
"So the problem becomes obvious when you think about it," Aiden continued. "In that turbulent era, faced with invasions from other magical races and threats that could destroy our entire civilisation, wizards voluntarily banded together to form the Wizarding Council. The Council's authority over individual wizards came from willing surrender and mutual agreement, not from violent conquest or subjugation."
The dream's ethereal doors suddenly swung open with a soft whoosh of displaced air, and Aiden stepped through in his physical form, the magical projection dissolving like morning mist.
"This creates a very specific result," he said, settling into a conjured chair that materialised with a subtle shimmer. "Wizards' collective will protects and empowers the Wizarding Council, or what we now call the Ministry of Magic. The relationship between the two is symbiotic, like water and fish – completely inseparable and interdependent."
"But what does any of this political theory have to do with me personally?" Arthur asked, bringing the discussion back to its starting point with characteristic directness.
"Currently within the Ministry, the conservative faction led by Fudge and the reform faction led by Bones are locked in a fierce, escalating struggle," Aiden explained, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "As purebloods... or rather, as those whose family names have been inscribed in the Ethereal Realm for centuries, we're naturally drawn into such political storms whether we want to be or not. Don't think you can stay neutral by simply keeping your head down and doing your job. Besides, Percy has already placed a very public bet for the Weasley family."
At the mention of Percy's name, Arthur's expression darkened like a storm cloud passing over the sun, then quickly cleared with visible effort.
"So in the Ministry's view, the Weasley family has become duplicitous hypocrites, betting on both sides to ensure we come out ahead regardless of who wins?" Arthur asked, finally grasping the political implications.
"Exactly," Aiden nodded grimly. "Which is why I plan to use Sister Tom's hand to temporarily extract you from the Ministry's immediate reach. Think of it as a strategic retreat before the real battle begins."
"How does that sound? Are you willing to go along with this plan?" the Director asked, studying Arthur's face carefully for any signs of hesitation.
Arthur was quiet for a long moment, the weight of the decision settling over him like a heavy cloak. Then he straightened his shoulders with characteristic Weasley determination. "Fine, let's do it!"
In the Department of Mysteries, after thoroughly discussing their elaborate strategy, the Director cooperatively withdrew all defensive forces from the Hall of Prophecy, leaving it seemingly vulnerable to infiltration.
Under the concealing cover of midnight darkness, a massive serpent slithered through the Ministry's corridors with deadly grace. Her scales caught what little light filtered through the windows, creating an almost hypnotic pattern of shadow and gleam.
The snake wandered purposefully through the Hall of Prophecy, her forked tongue tasting the air as she searched for one specific crystal orb among the thousands that lined the shelves.
When she passed by Arthur's supposedly sleeping form, she deliberately disturbed his rest, causing him to wake with a convincing start of surprise and alarm.
Arthur raised his wand with theatrical panic and launched several spells at the serpent, but they bounced harmlessly off her magical protection like raindrops off glass.
Finally, following their carefully rehearsed script, the snake suddenly coiled around Arthur with bone-crushing force and bit him multiple times, her fangs leaving him bloody and appearing thoroughly mangled.
This vivid, terrifying scene was transmitted to three distinct locations through some mysterious magical connection that defied normal understanding.
The first to receive the haunting memory was Harry, sleeping peacefully in his dormitory bed at Hogwarts.
The second recipient was Sister Tom, currently hiding somewhere in the mountains of Europe, who seemed to be... otherwise occupied at the moment.
The third and final recipient was naturally the glass vial secured in Aiden's pocket, though he had cast such intricate mystical concealment techniques upon it that its distance from other soul fragments appeared both infinitely close and infinitely far simultaneously.
At Hogwarts, Harry jerked awake from his nightmare with a strangled gasp, immediately shaking Ron's shoulder with desperate urgency.
"Ron, wake up! Quick, we need to get to the Department of Mysteries! Your father's been attacked by something terrible," Harry clutched his scar, which was burning with white-hot pain.
Neville, roused by the commotion, quickly padded barefoot across the cold stone floor to fetch Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall arrived with her tartan dressing gown billowing behind her, bringing several confused students to the headmaster's office through corridors that seemed unusually dark and foreboding.
Meanwhile, in the Department of Mysteries, Arthur picked up a conveniently placed stone from the floor and lobbed it at Aiden with surprising accuracy.
"This really does hurt quite a bit," Arthur said with remarkable composure, even managing a weak smile. "Got any of those excellent painkillers you're always carrying around?"
"You're absolutely amazing at this acting business," Aiden replied with genuine admiration. After administering some pain-relieving potions, he pressed the crucial vial into Arthur's palm. "Tell everyone you've been carrying this protective charm with you. It's essential to the story."
Aiden then departed in a spatial flicker that left only the faintest disturbance in the air, returning to Hogwarts with supernatural speed.
Just as he materialised in his dormitory, a magnificent silver phoenix soared through his window, its ethereal voice instructing him to hurry immediately to the headmaster's office.
Aiden quickly changed into appropriately rumpled pyjamas and rushed through the castle's sleeping corridors, his bare feet silent on the ancient stones.
Inside the headmaster's office, all the Weasley children had somehow already arrived, with Harry standing at the centre of the gathered group, describing his terrifying vision in vivid, disturbing detail.
"Everard," Dumbledore addressed one of the portraits with crisp authority, "Arthur is on guard duty tonight at the Ministry. Send our people to rescue him immediately."
"Fawkes," he continued, turning to his magnificent phoenix companion, "notify Molly at once, then keep careful watch on Umbridge's movements throughout the night." The phoenix disappeared in a burst of flame and golden feathers.
Finally, Dumbledore selected a delicate silver instrument from his desk and tapped it gently with one finger. The device immediately sprang to life, producing rhythmic chiming sounds like tiny bells, while small silver tubes at its apex began emitting wisps of pale green smoke that gathered and swirled hypnotically in the air.
After several tense seconds, the ethereal wisps transformed into a steady stream of smoke, growing thicker and more substantial as it coiled upward through the air. The smoky tendrils eventually formed into the unmistakable shape of a serpent's head with its mouth gaping wide in silent menace.
"They remain separate in essence, don't they?" Dumbledore asked the mystical instrument with barely concealed anxiety.
The silver device provided him with what appeared to be an affirmative response, its chimes taking on a more harmonious tone.
Dumbledore released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly with relief.
Soon the portrait returned with welcome news that Arthur had been successfully rescued and that the Dark Lord's primary objective had not been achieved.
"Phineas," Dumbledore commanded another portrait, "return immediately to Grimmauld Place and notify Sirius. We need to transport the children there for their safety."
Harry, who had been repeatedly ignored throughout these rapid-fire orders, felt anger rising from somewhere deep in his chest like molten lava. He found himself unconsciously beginning to move forward, an inexplicable urge to bite Dumbledore overwhelming his rational thoughts.
But Aiden's steady hand came to rest on his shoulder, and with a single clear, bell-like chime that seemed to resonate through Harry's entire being, the violent impulse vanished completely.
"Professor, what's happening to me?" Harry asked, his voice trembling with confusion and fear.
"Your connection with her runs far deeper than we initially realised," Aiden said with a concerned frown. "You need to calm yourself immediately and employ your Occlumency training."
Harry nodded and tried his absolute best to control his chaotic thoughts as Aiden had suggested, focusing on the mental exercises Sirius had attempted to teach him.
But his immature, underdeveloped skills proved utterly insufficient to resist this powerful, invasive connection.
"Good grief, did Sirius actually slack off during those lessons?" Aiden muttered, rubbing his temples as he prepared to render Harry unconscious for everyone's safety.
But Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him. "Leave Harry to me and Professor McGonagall. Take your family members back to Grimmauld Place immediately."
Dumbledore raised his wand, preparing to transfigure something into a Portkey, but the office filled with precious, irreplaceable silver instruments made him visibly reluctant to sacrifice any of them.
"Allow me," Aiden said with a casual snap of his fingers.
A magnificent dragon-shaped Patronus rose up with ethereal grace, its silver form swallowing Ron, Ginny, and the twins in gentle, protective light. Aiden himself dissolved into shimmering mist that merged with his Patronus.
The Patronus carried its precious cargo through the collective unconscious sea, travelling at impossible speeds through dimensions that defied normal physics, and soon they materialised safely at Grimmauld Place.
Sirius came rushing to meet them, his appearance dishevelled and travel-worn, while simultaneously shouting at the perpetually cursing Kreacher to make himself scarce.
George and Fred immediately demanded to go to St. Mungo's to see their father, but Sirius firmly prevented them from leaving the house's protective wards.
Fred launched into a heated argument with Sirius, his voice rising with each exchange, but eventually their host managed to calm the agitated twins with generous servings of warm butterbeer and gentle but firm reassurance.
Everyone remained at Grimmauld Place until nearly three in the morning, anxiety filling the air like a suffocating fog, until Mrs Weasley finally arrived with the blessed news that Arthur was completely out of danger and would make a full recovery.