The Fickle Finger of Felix by Al Clark
Summary: A great wizard develops a dependency on a "curious little potion" that might have dangerous side effects.

I'm not saying that this is how it happened, but we wouldn't know that it didn't happen this way, would we?

(The latest update, on the afternoon of 25 September 2014, fixed a few small errors and addressed one or two other issues. The overall story line remains the same as the original version.)

Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death, Substance Abuse, Violence
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 4950 Read: 882 Published: 09/21/14 Updated: 09/24/14

1. The Fickle Finger of Felix by Al Clark

The Fickle Finger of Felix by Al Clark
"I know he is."

"You just want to believe that he's telling the truth!"

"No, Severus. Now you are projecting your own motive onto me. You want to go on carrying your grudge. But I have seen the truth in Sirius Black's eyes. He was not the Secret Keeper."

"Might he not have studied Occlu--"

"From the Dementors?" For a moment Dumbledore met Snape's icy glare with a disarming twinkle in his eye, and Snape knew he would not win this round. "If he had had the right tutor he would still lack the patience and discipline for it. You know him that well. No, it was not Sirius who betrayed us. It was--"

"Peter," said Snape, grudgingly.

"Felix."

"What!?" Snape's glare broke into an expression of surprise.

"I took a small dose of Felix Felicis when I went to cast the Fidelius Charm. I could not tell whether, or how, it might have made any difference. And yet I had the feeling, for the first time, that some momentous change of fortune had brought victory within our grasp." Snape was now watching Dumbledore with a thoroughly nonplussed expression. Dumbeldore looked rather sheepish. "You may well imagine my surprise when I found that their secret had been betrayed. My first thought was that it must have been a bad batch. But then I realized what this meant for the Chosen One. He had been chosen by Lord Voldemort himself--and now Voldemort could not touch him."

"And so I am to imagine that her--their sacrifice is justified by this 'Chosen One'?" Snape's upper lip curled.

"We would do well to consider that possibility. Regardless of what you may think of him, Harry Potter is uniquely qualified to avenge all of Lord Voldemort's victims."

"If the Dark Lord returns."

"He will. The die is now cast. All the signs have been that we would have to defeat him yet again. And I fear that there will be more deaths, and more sacrifices, before the end.

"But there was one thing that always puzzled me about our surprising turn of luck with the Fidelius Charm. It seemed all along like it must have been the work of Felix, but I could not see how. Until now. I have now witnessed that scene as Sirius saw it, and it was literally at the last minute that Sirius persuaded James to switch to Peter. All of this took place after I had swallowed the potion."

"Do you still think it wise to go on using it? It is notoriously treacherous even when correctly made."

"In this case I feel that we may as well do so. After all, it was Felix that set the stage for this year's events."

"How so?" At last Snape was beginning to look more curious than furious.

"Last July I took a dose, just enough for a couple of hours, before making some plans for this year. It was during those two hours that Arthur Weasley won the Daily Prophet's Grand Prize Galleon Draw."

"How fortunate for him."

"It ought to prove fortunate for us all. Because of that prize, the Weasleys were seen in a photograph with Peter Pettigrew, which is why Sirius escaped from Azkaban and flushed him out of hiding. So if the luckiest thing that could have happened then was something that would get that picture taken, then the luckiest thing that could happen now is for Pettigrew to be on his way to Albania." Dumbledore omitted to mention that he had also felt lucky when Pettigrew escaped and fled from Hogwarts. He thought that he would be pushing his luck if he mentioned that.

* * *

Negotiations over the Triwizard Tournament were going well, though Dumbledore had had to Confund Ludo Bagman in order to get him to imagine that it was a good idea to have two tasks that the audience would not get to watch. Dumbledore himself was having second thoughts about this plan, but Felix seemed to know.

Now, during a short break for tea, a Magical Sports and Games staffer named Bertha Jorkins was in full flow about the vacation she was about to take in Albania. ". . . And then I'll be going to visit my cousin, what was her name--oh well, I'l remember in a moment, anyway she lives in Puka. Or is it Rubik? No, I think that's my aunt. It's Puka."

"Puka? I know a charming little inn near there. You should stop in for some of their tarator and fried squid. . . ." Though it was Felix's idea, Dumbledore did indeed know of the inn that he was speaking of. A correspondent of his sometimes visited it while keeping an eye on Lord Voldemort's movements. Felix warned him not to say anything that might alarm her. He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Dumbledore did not find any cause for alarm in Harry's haggard and wild-eyed state when he appeared on the lawn outside the maze, holding the Triwizard Cup. He had expected that this would be a difficult ordeal for Harry, and accepted the necessity of it. But what caused him to start from his seat in alarm was the limp and lifeless body of Cedric Diggory.

He had not expected this. He had been tolerating the impostor's occasional bad behavior, and overlooking the gaffes that could have blown his cover, for most of a year, telling himself that with luck this would end without serious harm to anyone. But he had made sure that luck would be with him at this crucial moment, and yet luck was not with Cedric Diggory any longer.

There had to be a reason why.

He ran over to Harry's side, and received the expected warning about Lord Voldemort. Then, once he had gotten Harry to let go of Cedric, Felix suggested to him that Harry would be safe enough to be left for a moment, so he told Harry to stay, and then rose and went to speak to Cedric's father Amos Diggory. But even as he did this, he was trying to figure out the reason why. Presumably the alternative to Cedric's bad luck was some worse disaster.

Someone in the crowd was saying, "What did he bring Cedric for? I thought there were teachers who were going to rescue anyone . . ."

That stopped Dumbledore in his tracks. Of course it would seem very strange for Cedric to have been brought back dead from the maze like this. The more credible story was the true one, that he had been brought from a Dark wizard attack. Cedric had been practically made into Lord Voldemort's calling card. Only a Dark Mark was lacking. Dumbledore had been worrying about whether people would accept the truth that Voldemort was back, and here was the answer ready-made. This ought to convince most people.

Unless . . .

Unless this was a sign that he was going to have a greater need for evidence than he had anticipated. But he could worry about that later. For now he had a crisis to manage.

* * *

A little before eight o'clock on a beautiful August morning, Dumbledore took a little experimental sip of Felix Felicis. The thought occurred to him that one good sip deserved another. Tippling before breakfast, he thought. I must really be getting addicted to the stuff. Ah well, I could have worse problems. Down the hatch.

On a sudden (yet not entirely unexpected) inspiration, he drew out his wand and sent his Patronus down to Hagrid's cabin, to say, "It seems that I will be needed at the hearing after all. I am going at once." Fawkes was already hovering in front of him, holding out a tail feather for him to take hold of, the fastest mode of transportation to get him first to Little Whinging, and then to the Ministry.

Later, as he was on his way back up from Courtroom Ten to the Atrium, he caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy hanging around, probably waiting to meet the Minister for Magic. This seemed a bit indiscreet of him. With luck Harry might see those two together, an encounter which Harry just might find enlightening.

Felix was in fine form today.

* * *

The glimpse into Harry's eyes just before the Portkey left had confirmed his suspicions. A piece of Lord Voldemort was in there, and the connection was not well controlled. And meanwhile Arthur's life still hung in the balance. Now that he had a moment alone, he turned once again to the only kind of drink that always steadied his nerves. His supply was running low, so he took just one small sip. Seconds later, Sirius Black was ordering Kreacher--in the vaguest of terms--to get out.

A few minutes later, following another tiresome encounter with Umbridge, he was talking things over with Professor Snape, when it suddenly occurred to him to say something that made no sense: "I would like for you to teach Harry Occlumency."

"What? We see quite enough of each other in Potions."

"But it is time that he began to learn, and you are--to the best of my knowledge--the foremost authority on the subject, and you are also a Legilimens, which is necessary for proper pedagogy."

"I have never found Potter to be an apt pupil."

"Be that as it may, he needs to be taught, and I think that you are just the man for the job." Dumbledore thought nothing of the kind, but Felix seemed to have a mind of its own. Presumably a reason would eventually become evident.

* * *

"Another batch? Are you quite sure?"

"Yes. We shall need every advantage that we can get."

"But--"

"Our supply is already running rather low." Dumbledore omitted to mention that his supply, by now, already came from another batch that he had made for his own use.

"Is it? How much have you had? And how can you be sure that it hasn't clouded your judgement?"

"My mood may be slightly altered by it, but my judgement is as sound as ever. I am guided not by subjective impressions, but by what I know about our results. And already Felix has given us opportunities that we could hardly have imagined otherwise. Now, as the danger grows ever greater, we must make every effort to save such lives as we can, before it is too late."

"And to sacrifice lives at the whim of a potion."

"If Felix marks some for death, that is only because some are to die in any case. But the danger that we now face is that all will either die or be enslaved forever. If ever there was a time to do whatever must be done for the greater good, this is it."

"Well then, on your head be it."

Now Felix prompted Dumbledore to add a warning. "And we shall both have to be very diligent in attending to this batch, and make sure that were are not interrupted. One of us must always be here if the other finds it necessary to leave. We should start soon, so that it will be finished by September.

"Now I'm afraid that you must excuse me. I have to discuss our staffing problem with Firenze." Dumbledore did not yet really know that he had a current staffing problem, but he suspected that he was about to find out that his Divination Professor was getting the sack.

* * *

"Harry Potter is leading a group of students to the Department of Mysteries on Thestral-back," said the silver lynx. "He believes that Sirius Black is being held there."

Dumbledore sent his Phoenix Patronus back to say, "Very good. It is time to spring a trap on them. With luck we might catch more than a few Death Eaters."

Then he got out his little bottle. There was not much left, so he took a little sip, and then waited for a couple of seconds. With some trepidation, he went ahead and drank almost half the remainder. Felix said when.

Later, as he saw Sirius Black fall into the arch, he had a feeling of déja vu. He had been in a bad mood, haunted by grim forebodings, already suspecting what was about to happen. Voldemort had to be lured out of hiding, and little else but a confrontation between his Nemesis and his most volatile lieutenant could bring this about. Now Harry was certain to pursue and attack Bellatrix. Dumbledore rounded up the rest of the Death Eaters, then pretended to try to jinx Bellatrix before she escaped, but deliberately allowed her to block it.

Bellatrix was fleeing on foot, probably aware that Dumbledore would have cast an Anti-Disapparation Jinx. Once she left the restricted areas of the Department she would be subject to the Ministry's Anti-Disapparation Jinx until she got to the Atrium. Since the entire Ministry had an Anti-Apparation Jinx, the confrontation was bound to take place in the Atrium, where Voldemort could get in.

Dumbledore put the finishing touches on the spells restraining his captives, made sure that the rest of the Order members would survive, and then set out for the Atrium, confident that he would get there in time.

* * *

He recognized the ring at once from having studied it closely in Bob Ogden's memory. He had already suspected that this would be the one, the Horcrux that he would find in the long-abandoned House of Gaunt. And knowing how it would tempt him, he had come prepared. His mind was made up. He would not try to use it. Not now, not until he had made sure that it was safe for him to handle.

Was that the Horcrux, telling him to put it on? He had never handled a real almost-live Horcrux before, but even despite his inexperience he was certain that a Horcrux should not be able to speak with the voice of Felix Felicis. And he had used Felix many times. He ought to know if its effects were being faked by any Dark object. Felix itself would warn him--if it was still working.

Dumbledore hesitated, yet he feared to hesitate. The potion would soon wear off, if it had not yet done so, and if he waited too long then whatever he did next could only be done without the benefit of Felix. So now it had all come down to one decision, with all his life and plans hanging in the balance, and he had no time to think. He did what he had done so often before, and followed where Felix led. Saying "Jacta alea est," he put on the ring.

The pain hit him so abruptly that it made him drop his wand. Burning, freezing, tearing, crushing pain. He had reflexively jerked his hand back, but there was no escaping the pain that was even now spreading towards his wrist. He must have made the wrong choice! His trust in Felix Felicis had finally betrayed him.

Somehow an idea penetrated through his pain, an idea that he should bend over. Reaching down with his left hand, he found his wand, and it seemed to slip between two fingers and get lodged there without any effort. Then he looked up and found Fawkes hovering there. He seized a tail feather, somehow knowing that he would not drop his wand when he did so, and was whisked back to his office.

He could hardly stand when he landed, and at once he fell against the wall. The case holding Gryffindor's sword popped open, and as he tried to catch his balance with his left hand the grip of the sword slipped into his hand, dislodging his wand. Then he collapsed to the floor, weak almost to the point of fainting.

His right hand was resting on the floor in front of his eyes, still shriveling and darkening as he watched. And lying across his hand was the sword. Its deadly envenomed blade had not even scratched his fingers. But it had fallen on the ring and cracked the stone!

Finding that his hand had now accidentally regained possession of his fallen wand, he sent his Patronus to bring Snape to him. Then he curled up around the pain that still consumed his right hand, and his world turned dark. He didn't know when Snape arrived. He could not even have told whether he was conscious at the time.

Afterwards, when Snape had finished doing what he could to counteract the curse, and Dumbledore had told Snape as much as he thought needed to be said and no more, he tried to remember how he had made his escape. It all seemed like a blur, a single confused, jumbled instant. He resorted to putting the memory in the Pensieve.

As he watched the events unfold, it seemed utterly preposterous that he had done so much so quickly, and all of it by accident. Only the most incredible run of good luck could explain how this had happened. Only the luck of Felix Felicis.

His days were numbered. He would die within a year. And that was just his luck.

* * *

Wormtail suspected that there had to be something special about that bottle of "elf-made wine". He had wanted to ask Snape what he was up to, but he might not have had the nerve for that even if it had not been so obvious that this was not the time. Better to obey now, and try to find something out later. He brought the wine, and then--as usual--beat a timid retreat.

When Snape poured out the first glass of wine the bottle dispensed the special blend. Afterwards it would only pour out ordinary wine. Nobody would know that his glass of wine was laced with Felix Felicis.

As luck would have it, the discussion soon turned to the subject of secrets that the Dark Lord had divulged to his various servants. And Bellatrix was still barely better at Occlumency than she was at Legilimency. Snape saw clearly that the cup that the Dark Lord had given into her protection was in her vault in Gringotts.

He had no leisure now to consider how they would ever get into Gringotts. The Black sisters were keeping him busy, and so was Felix. Before they were through with him he had sworn an oath on his life, literally, and was not so sure that he could keep all of it. If nothing else he would die lucky.

* * *

As he Disapparated from the Burrow, Dumbledore wondered what he was going to cover in those lessons that he had just now decided, on the spur of the moment (and of Felix), to tell Harry about. Certainly he had already been considering the possibilities, and he thought that the main topic ought to be the background of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, but God and the Devil were in the details. He would not be there to supervise the carrying out of his plans for much longer--only the remnant of his thoughts in his portrait would be there for Snape, and even less for Harry. He would have to choose with care how much to tell Harry, and what secrets to keep.

Or he could just let Felix decide. That would probably be safer. After what had recently happened, he would trust Felix with his life.

As long as they successfully finished making the new batch. In the meantime he would have to get through the next month and a half without his favorite drink. But it could be worse. Horace had been doing without more luxuries than that for a whole year, and since he had been moving to a new house every week his opportunities to practice his potioneering must have been seriously limited.

* * *

"But you think you're right?" said Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man." (1) Dumbledore thought that that was quite blandly put, as if he made ordinary mistakes. But now that the thought occurred to him that he ought to warn Harry that he might make quite extraordinary mistakes, he was sure that this was more than a mere whim, more even than the urging of his conscience. He recognized the motivation, the sense of opportunity at hand, the warning against letting it pass him by.

The sentiment was his, the words were his, but it was Felix that told him to say, "In fact, being--forgive me--rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger." (2)

Harry's attention was divided, distracted by his concerns about whether Dumbledore's lessons would help him to meet his destiny. But the words had found their mark. He would not forget that he had heard this.

Later, Dumbledore wondered what it was that Harry needed to know about Dumbledore's fallibility. Had Dumbledore made a mistake that Harry would need to correct? Or was he about to make that mistake? Or was there a mistake that he would have to make, so that Harry could correct it later, when the time was ripe? Surely Felix knew some good reason.

Or did it? Was this perhaps Felix's way of warning him not to put too much trust in Felix? Was that the big mistake that he was referring to?

* * *

Dumbledore was thinking over the facts of Tom Riddle's career at Hogwarts, and found only one way that they added up. He had turned seventeen on New Year's Eve in his sixth year, and had murdered his father and grandparents during the Summer Holidays before his seventh year. He had come of age by then, and could not have had the Trace on him.

So what had possessed Dumbledore to say that stuff about the Trace? It didn't even make sense--if the Trace had been there, the Ministry would have known that Tom Riddle had been in a Muggle house when those three Unforgivable Curses were performed, and they would have known that before they found out about Morfin Gaunt's involvement.

Had Felix told him to say that? Or had he just been confused? The Pensieve would hardly help him to answer this one, because it only showed what was done, and not what the motives were.

Perhaps it was simply because nobody had yet explained to Harry about the unreasonable disparity in the enforcement of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. That had not been Dumbledore's purpose in bringing up that subject, yet it had been the result. Or maybe Felix found it lucky for Harry to be reminded, once again, that even Dumbledore could make mistakes. There was probably some reason. Not that Dumbledore ever expected to find out what it was.

Anyway, it was such a small unanswered question that there would be no need to take it into account when deciding whether to let Felix in on subsequent appointments with Harry.

* * *

Most of Dumbledore's thoughts were close enough to what Snape had expected. The curse (which Snape still thought that Dumbledore should never have exposed himself to) was spreading across Dumbledore's shoulder and moving steadily towards his heart. Their mission had been a success, though there was some confusing stray thought about having retrieved only a small clue, and not a more valuable thing that was already at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry was in a Full-Body Bind (which Snape heartily approved of), and was concealed near the door. Draco had been unwilling to kill Dumbledore, and Harry had seen all of this. And Dumbledore had been drinking again.

And Dumbledore had been Disarmed by Draco. His wand had fallen to the ground below. Whether or how this would serve any of their plans Snape couldn't even begin to guess, but it certainly wasn't the plan that they had made. Now they would just have to trust in luck, and "wing it". Snape didn't like the sound of that phrase. Just now any thought of flying was distasteful to him.

But he had to do it. There was no other time for it. Snape raised his wand, said the words, and silently used a real spell to fling Dumbledore over the parapet.

In the few seconds that it took for Dumbledore to fall, Snape was lucky enough to be able to herd the Death Eaters to the door. Then Dumbledore crashed to earth, and the last of his luck ran out.

* * *

Snape was trying to consider what his true motives really were. This was not easy. By his frequent practice of Occlumency he had falsified his thoughts so many times that he was not at all sure that he knew his own true mind. But he would have to be sure before he decided whether to take Felix Felicis again. And if he was going to take it, now was the time. He had been warned that Potter would be coming to Hogwarts, and that he might try to get into the Ravenclaw Common Room.

The last time he had seen Potter, the boy had almost killed himself with stupid recklessness. Typical Gryffindor, and a Potter through and through. Yet he could not help but admire (however grudgingly) such determined heroism in such a good cause. And since he had heard of the Gringotts break-in, he felt confident that Potter had been after the cup that the Dark Lord had entrusted to Bellatrix, and that he would not have left without it.

It was mainly for Lily's sake that he objected to the plan for the boy's death, yet he felt sure that he did not otherwise wish for Harry's death. Perhaps the boy was actually beginning to grow on him. He could carry out his part of the plan, and leave it to Harry to choose to sacrifice himself for the cause. After all, the sacrifice was the same that he would accept for himself.

He had little time left to decide--how little he could not guess. He calmed himself and cleared his thoughts as best he could under the circumstances, then took his wand, thought of the first time that he had had a really friendly conversation with Lily, and said, "Expecto Patronum!"

As always, the silver doe felt almost like having Lily back for a moment. This time it felt almost like actually having her friendship back again. They stood side by side for a little while, and then he reached out to stroke her shoulder, and she vanished. Of course he knew that she was really still there, she just wasn't manifesting at that moment.

He was ready. He would take Felix Felicis.

Later, as he was preparing the Shrieking Shack before leading the Dark Lord to it, he suddenly thought that the tunnel really ought to be hidden. But at the same time it should not be effectively blocked at all. This must mean that someone would be coming from there, and he only knew three people who would be likely to make such a sortie at this time, and who knew the way.

But even if they were all Gryffindors, he doubted that they would make a direct attack on the Dark Lord. He tried to guess at why they would need to be let in if they were not going to make an attack. Most likely this would be the occasion for him to share the memories that he had prepared for Harry. But when he speculated about the ways that this could be made to happen, he didn't like any scenario. If nothing else, the lightness of the barrier suggested that it would all have to be carried out in haste.

He would have to be ready for anything, and trust in luck. He remembered vividly the last time that Dumbledore had trusted in luck. But if it came to that, he was about as ready to die for the cause as he could be. At least then he might see Lily again.

As he suffered through his last conversation with the Dark Lord, it looked increasingly likely that the Dark Lord meant to kill him, thinking that he would thus gain mastery of the Elder Wand. He tried to talk his way out of it, but his heart wasn't in it. Clearly it would serve the cause for him to die, because he knew full well that that was the one way to deceive the Dark Lord into believing that he was the wand's master. Against that incentive he could not wish for life without mixed motives. It was hard to know just what he really wanted, especially as he was busy hiding his true thoughts at that moment, but the first thing he wanted now was probably for Harry to be on the other side of that concealing crate, just as Snape was guessing that he might be.

And with luck, thought Snape, the Dark Lord will walk out that door while I'm still alive. Just like they left the top of the tower while Dumbledore was still alive. Luckily, Lord Voldemort did not catch Snape thinking this.

Minutes later, his last task completed, Snape tried to get one last look into Harry's eyes. Would Harry have finally learned how to block him with Occlumency? Or would he, Snape, finally get to learn what mission Harry had been on, and how he had fared? Would he see some sign that Harry really was worthy to be the hero who was to avenge Lily and save Wizarding Britain?

He never got to see anything there. It was too late for him. But at least he finally died lucky. And at the last he told himself that after all Harry was the Chosen One.

Chosen by Felix.
End Notes:

(1) Dialogue quoted from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince chapter 10, "The House of Gaunt".

(2) Ibid.

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