History of the World Volume XIX Chapter 1 The Rule of Turpin – Absolute Truth
Muggles are bound by laws of nature, absolute truths. Gravity pulls them down. Their short lives flicker in a biological trudge toward inevitable death. The ability to defy absolute truth sets a wizard above nature, defining their role in life. When a wizard is faced with an absolute truth, he has only to think on whether it suits him. If he tires of gravity, he mounts a broom. If the blue sky wears on his nerves he can paint it red. Magical power defines truth.
Hundreds of ships clustered together in Poole Harbour. They rocked gently with the waves, creaking and sighing. Some rode high in the water, empty of cargo. Others rode low, already heavy with goods and men, ready to sail with the next tide. None of the trappings of wizards could be found on the docks. There weren't broom stations or potion stands. Muggle hawkers were about with their wares, but that wasn't so surprising. Harbours had long reigned as havens of iniquity, ruled by Muggle criminals. Wizards had never had much use for ships. Sailing was a Muggle occupation, capricious, dangerous, and completely unnecessary for a wizard who need only Apparate himself or conjure his goods across a distance.
Magic found its role on the docks. Though the ships were captained and crewed by Muggles, there wasn't a single vessel without magic carvings and charms worked into its hull. Even the poorest captain could find a Squib to work a bit of luck into his ship.
One vessel stood out among the roughly-charmed ships. Its hull was stained a dark mahogany, and precise pictograms highlighted every inch of wood, from the keel to the tip of the tallest mast. The night was starless, clouds obscuring all light, and in the pitch blackness those pictograms almost seemed to glow.
"Are you sure about this," Nyt hissed at her companion. Her grey hair was trapped in an untidy braid and she was peering over a neatly stacked row of barrels at the ship they had come to raid.
"We just have to get on it," Remus said. "The rest will be fairly easy."
Nyt spun and glared menacingly. "You keep saying that if we get on the ship, the rest will be easy. How do you figure that getting the two of us on that ship will be easier than getting my crew off?"
"You're just going to have to trust me," Remus said. But Nyt had drawn her wand and it was pointed at his navel.
"No, I really don't. Tell me the plan, you mangy mercenary, or I'll go forward and handle this myself."
Remus shook his head and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, I'll tell you the quick version as we have little time before that ship sails. If it sails without us, there is no way to save your crew or anyone else on board."
"I'm listening," Nyt said, but her wand never wavered.
"That ship is a prison. I know you were surprised when I told you we would find your people at the harbour. Since when has Turpin needed ships? Funny thing about immortals, they get bored. This ship was designed by one of Turpin's jaded third tier governors. There have been hundreds of them constructed, designed to prevent prison overcrowding."
Remus frowned darkly. "Only prisoners who have been given a life sentence are placed aboard. There is no crew, no cargo except for men. The ship is launched, and the charms etched into its hull compel it to find open water."
"And," Nyt coaxed.
"The end," Remus said. "The ship goes out to sea and does not come back."
"So we stow away until the launch, and then stage our prison break after they've abandoned the people aboard to dehydration and death." Nyt put away her wand. "I like the plan."
Remus hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. She had the gist of the plan anyway. And there was very little time. "The gangway is down. The tide will be going out with the dawn. That ship will be going with it. Are you ready, Captain?"
"Don't dawdle." Nyt sprang around the dock's barrels and was half-way up the gangway before Remus had taken off. She moved rather fast for an elderly captain.
Her bottom lip sticking out, Isobel Green watched her brother pack away his belongings again. It wasn't even time to go back to school, but he was leaving. Since coming back he hadn't managed to spend more than three days straight in the group home. He had friends to visit, parties to go to, camps to attend. "I hate you," she said, proud of herself because her voice didn't tremble.
"No you don't," Harry said. He stuffed another robe into his trunk. "If I could take you to Quidditch camp with me, I would, okay? But I can't skip it, and you can't come."
Isobel slid off her brother's bed and scuffed her feet around to look into his jumbled packing job. "You're a slob," she said.
"And you're a spoiled brat," Harry replied. "Don't antagonize Hermione and she'll look out for you while I'm gone, got it?"
Isobel curled her lip disgustedly. "I don't want her to look after me. It's not her job."
Harry refused to respond that it was his job, though he knew it was true. Isobel would just have to grow up a little. He couldn't be there with her every second of every day. Harry pulled his trunk closed and sighed. "Well, are you going to see me off then?"
"Yeah," Isobel said. She followed him and his trunk downstairs to the transportation circle, where the other kids who played Quidditch were being sent to camp. "Bye, Harry," Isobel said when it was his turn to leave. She'd learned her lesson about shouting things you didn't mean to people in transportation circles when Harry left for school. She'd been kicking herself for months over that explosion.
Harry smiled at her, and waved. "Be good, Izzy!"
The transportation circle swallowed her brother in a wave of mist and light. With a dignified snort, Isobel spun on her heel and trudged back upstairs. The girls' dorm was always full so she kept going up until she was at the roof access. It was supposed to be locked, but too many older kids liked to go out there to snog, and it was constantly being Alohamorahed. She tried the knob, and it turned easily.
There weren't any couples out there that she could see, so Isobel made her way around the roof's flat balcony portion to a corner out of the wind. She slipped a hand down into her grey robes and pulled out a bit of parchment that had been folded and refolded.
It was the only card she had received on her ninth birthday. They started with the divination stones when you turned nine, so that they could pick the powerful wizards out and really prepare them for school. The group homes didn't have the funds to waste their time and money on a wizard that had no chance to make Class I or II. Harry had always gotten a blue card, a ticket to study. But Isobel's parchment was pink. In a pretty slanted scrawl, her pink letter told her she was less than those children with blue slips.
Not that Harry knew. She wanted to tell him. But it took time for her to build up the courage, and he was always leaving. She didn't want to be his cry-baby sister anymore. Not since what he'd said to her about Christmas and her tantrum. She had never seen her brother so fierce, so livid with her.
Would he be angry over the pink slip of paper? Isobel didn't really think he would be cross at her, but he might be angry for her. She envisioned her brother going to the toad they had teaching the less promising children, Professor Umbridge, and hexing her pink-cardigan into choking her unless she moved his sister back to the real classes.
Isobel jumped when the slip of parchment was pulled from her loose grip. Hermione had followed her, snuck up behind her, and was now reading her private letter. Colour was rising in her cheeks, and Isobel snatched the letter back. "I don't need a keeper while Harry is gone. I can take care of myself."
Rather than answer, Hermione took a seat a few feet away, out where the wind could blow her wild hair. "You should tell Harry about that letter. He'd want to know."
"I plan to tell him." Isobel glared toward the rising sun. "When I'm ready, I'll tell him."
Sunlight shone through the window, torturing Sirius through his eyelids. His head felt swollen, as if his brain was too large for his skull and was clamouring to escape. "Could someone close the bloody curtains?" The lights almost immediately dimmed. Suddenly anxious to see who had obliged his muttered request, Sirius hazarded opening his eyes. With the lights dimmed, he could just manage to keep his eyes open against the pain in his skull. He stared up at the creamy-white ceiling trying to remember what happened. To wake up with the sort of headache he was sporting, it must have been one hell of a party. But he couldn't remember.
"It's good to see you awake. Very well timed, I might add. Another ten minutes and I would have been gone."
Sirius turned to the man at his bedside. Dumbledore was staring down at him with a kind, fatherly expression that just made Sirius' head hurt worse. He needed to remember what happened. "Tell me someone murdered the Hippogriff that ran me over."
"Ah, but it wasn't a Hippogriff. You took three rather well cast stunning spells that knocked you out thoroughly." Albus rose and paced back toward the sealed window. "Do you remember what you were doing when you were stunned?"
"No, I..." Sirius closed his eyes and Pettigrew's snivelling face bubbled to the surface. "Peter..." Throwing himself forward, Sirius sat up gritting his teeth against the pain. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Peter didn't get away. Did they let Peter get away?"
Albus shook his head and frowned compassionately at Sirius. "You can understand their mistake. When they discovered you torturing a practically defenceless scheduler, they subdued the person who seemed to be the criminal of the moment. Fortunately, you hadn't left Peter in any condition to make his escape. Both of you were brought to the infirmary where we have managed to sort through the facts."
"Then you know." Sirius let himself fall back onto the bed. "Peter stole children, sold children. He sold James and Lily's children." He breathed slowly for a few seconds allowing the pain in his head to stop resonating so painfully. "James knows? You've told James."
"Of course, Sirius. James knows," Albus said. "Rest now."
Sirius looked at Albus thankfully before he succumbed to the unconsciousness that had begun to claw darkly at his perception.
Heading out into the corridor, Albus paused to speak to a Healer who was watching through the doorway. "He is mending well?"
"Yes, very well. The Captain is lucky. Those three stunners hit him at once, and one hit him rather squarely in the head." The Healer smiled. "Whatever you said to him, he seems to be sleeping more soundly."
Albus returned her smile and nodded. A small lie could often set the mind at ease.
The transportation circle that serviced the western Quidditch camp facilities sat part way up a ridge, below which, six full-sized Quidditch pitches stood. Harry lingered in the transportation circle a moment longer than he should have while gaping at the camp, and another arrival appeared, nearly on top of him. It was an older student. He shoved Harry roughly out of his way and out of the circle.
"Sorry," Harry tossed after the broad-shouldered youth. With that build he was probably a Beater or maybe a Keeper. While he knew he should probably head down the trail himself, Harry waited for another moment, allowing his anticipation to build - three weeks of flying and playing. Freedom.
"I can tell you love it."
Spinning, Harry spotted a young man standing at the other side of the transportation circle. He smiled kindly, and Harry returned the expression. "I guess I do."
The young man came around and offered Harry his hand. "I'm Oliver Wood, a Keeper."
"Harry Green, Seeker." They shook hands and Oliver handed Harry a scroll of parchment. "A little reading for when you're not flying."
Was Oliver a teacher then? Harry pocketed the parchment, but before he could ask, a girl came flying out of the transportation circle and set to pummelling the nice young man. "What do you think you're doing here? Are you barmy? Leave the baby first-years alone you brainwashed, nutter."
"You still care," Oliver managed to choke out.
"Care? I care enough to warn you that Ethan is right behind me. Hopefully those insane bastards taught you to Apparate 'cause Ethan has been dying to beat some sense into you, and he's not above using a Beater bat." The girl had stopped pummelling Oliver but she was staring at him like he was diseased or crazed. "Get out of here," she commanded. "Go!"
Oliver stepped back and smiled sadly. "It's okay, Katherine. I'll go."
After the pop of Oliver's Apparition, Harry found himself gazing apprehensively at the tall girl who had chased him away. She flung her thick, brown braid over her shoulder and stared down at him appraisingly. "Did Oliver do anything to you? Say anything?"
"We just said hello and shook hands. He said he was a Keeper." Harry stepped away from the girl, Katherine. Who knew what might set her off pummelling him?
"He is a Keeper, a brilliant one. Come on to camp and I'll tell you a couple of things to be careful of, so you don't end up like my friend, Oliver."
She gripped her trunk and began dragging it down the path to camp. Harry scrambled to follow. "So what happened to him? If he's a brilliant Keeper, why isn't he in camp?"
"He isn't in camp because he defected. Those loonies in Antarctica got to him. He joined the Quidditch Fundamentalist Movement, quit school, walked away from his friends and family, and flew a few thousand miles south to play Keeper on an ice cube." Katherine shook her head but never broke stride. "You have to watch out for them. They send recruiters everywhere, and Oliver was normal, a good friend. But they got him."
"I can't imagine anything he could have said to make me abandon my sister and go to Antarctica." Harry frowned resolutely. "It's crazy."
"Yet very sane people are upping sticks and doing it. Farewell family, farewell girlfriend, I want to entertain penguins!" Katherine stopped abruptly at a fork in the trail and pointed to the right. "New guys go that way. Fiona will want to see you fly."
"Thanks." Harry wasn't sure how to properly respond to the situation. He squirmed for a couple of seconds before adding, "It was nice to meet you, Katherine."
"Be careful." She didn't ask for Harry's name. Katherine just nodded once and rolled her trunk onwards down the path.
Ahead, Harry spotted his age group and relief washed through him. It was easier to handle something new when surrounded by a crowd of familiar faces. Draco greeted him with a dignified wave. "I see you finally made it, Green."
"Yeah, I was busy being recruited by the Antarctica nutters," Harry whispered, casting a quick glance around to make sure the instructor wouldn't be able to see him talking.
"You're kidding," Draco said. "Are they here?" He looked back up the path Harry had come down. "Did they try to Imperius you?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied. "A girl stopped the guy before he could even really say anything. So, who's Fiona and why are we flying for her?"
"I'm Fiona, you little chatterbox." Harry looked up into the face of a middle-aged black woman. She had circled around to the back of the crowd as quietly as a cat. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and she was wearing grey and white Keeper's robes. "Name and position, Chatterbox?"
"Harry Green, Seeker." He could practically feel the crowd receding from him under Fiona's gaze. This was not the kind of attention he wanted to garner off the bat.
"Well, take a broom, Green. You can start." She turned toward the crowd. "As I was saying, most of you will be working within your age group. And some of you we may need to move, out of necessity." Fiona mounted a broom and streaked into the air. "Come on, Green. I haven't got all day."
Determined to make up for his less than stellar introduction, Harry selected one of the brooms and followed Fiona into the air, with a steep, professional ascent that brought him to a standstill precisely two feet from her hovering position. She didn't crack a smile.
"You wear glasses, Green. I hope they're the proper prescription. Seekers need to see." She flourished one of her hands revealing four golden Gobstone-sized spheres. "I want you to catch all four without letting one hit the ground. On my mark, you can fetch." With a smirk she launched a ball every five seconds, each on a different trajectory. "Fetch," she said.
For his part, Harry didn't have time to think about catching the spheres. He watched them fly, and he had to let his instincts guide him on a path to catching them all. Harry was honestly shocked at how easily he managed to catch the first three. If he had stopped to let his brain catch up with his gut, he never would have dived for the fourth, but Harry went for it, racing toward the ground in a suicidal spiral that had his fellow Quidditch players gasping in fear. Harry managed to catch the sphere, not crash into the Earth, and he even avoided running any of his team mates over as they drove away from his recovery-ascent.
"Good enough," Fiona said. She took the spheres back from Harry. "Your instincts will improve as you get more experience. The desperate dive wasn't necessary if you'd been a bit more efficient on your start. Head down and send me two Chasers."
Harry joined his team mates to a smattering of applause. Many of them were still beating the dirt off their robes from having to dive out of his way. He nodded to a couple of the Chasers and delivered Fiona's message. Draco was still toward the back of the group, and he had located Lisa. A satisfied smile plastered to his face, Harry joined them.
"Not bad," Draco said, returning Harry smile with a smirk. "If I'd ended up in the ditch with half the team, I'd be less impressed."
"Were you impressed, Lisa?" Harry couldn't help asking.
She shrugged. "It's just Quidditch, another hoop to jump through." After a beat she admitted, "But you're good at that hoop."
"Wonder what she'll make the Beaters do?" Harry asked. The two Chasers seemed to be attempting some form of two-person, flying juggling.
"That juggling bit with bats?" Lisa speculated. Draco laughed, and they started critiquing the fliers as they took their turns. Occasionally Harry added a something, but he let Lisa and Draco lead the running commentary, happy to watch the flying and try to figure what Fiona was looking for in it all. When Draco and Lisa finally took their turn in the air, Harry was impressed. They had been working together, drilling, and their ability to communicate was light-years beyond any of the other pairs.
When Fiona finally returned to land, she took up a parchment and started scribbling on it. After a moment she held up an arm for silence. "Follow me to camp."
Feeling terribly excited yet content and at home, Harry strolled along between Draco and Lisa. Fiona stopped at camp, a simple strip of brightly-coloured tents. Above their heads, kids of all ages zoomed about on brooms, laughing and screaming so that Fiona had to shout to be heard. "Listen to your team captains! They'll make sure you know what to do when. They will show you where you need to be. Now when I call your name, head into the yellow tent!"
They moved along the tents, dropping kids off at every stop. When Draco and Lisa were dropped at a pale-blue tent, Harry took a moment to say farewell. "That was some nice flying, both of you."
"Naturally," Draco said. Lisa just nodded.
Before long, Harry found himself alone with Fiona. She stopped outside a bright crimson tent and frowned at her parchment. "Katherine! Get out here and look what I brought you."
The girl Harry had met upon arrival emerged from the tent, an anticipatory grin on her face. "You've picked a Seeker? Is it Eddie? I can work with Eddie. He isn't brilliant, but beggars can't be choosers." She finally seemed to notice Harry and her face fell. All the animation went out of her. "If this is about Oliver, I was going to tell you about his little recruiting effort as soon as you finished with the new kids. He was chatting this one up when I arrived."
Fiona had seemed serious in a jovial way, but at the mention of Oliver her entire face changed. Her grey eyes narrowed and the muscles of her jaw visibly tensed. She spun and dropped to Harry's eye level. "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing," Harry answered. "She tackled him before he got past hello."
It didn't come right away, but a half-smile eventually curled Fiona's lips. "Kathy has excellent instincts. She's going to be your team captain." Standing, Fiona nodded to the two of them. "If you want to be competitive, you'll make more of this one than Eddie, believe me. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to pull him out of school when it starts back. Quidditch can't pull Class I fulltime before fifth year. Three days a week is all you'll get." She cuffed Katherine companionably on the shoulder, nodded to Harry, and left them.
Katherine frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Got a name?"
"Harry Green." Was she disappointed at not getting Eddie, whoever that was? She didn't look very happy so see a first-year on her team.
"Well, Green, welcome to the Fireballs, number-four amateur squad in the European Training League. We just lost our Keeper to Antarctica, and our Seeker to the Westies. So you, pipsqueak, have some big shoes to fill." Katherine finally smiled and held the tent flap back for him. "Come in, and I'll introduce you to the team."
The tent was spacious with a large open common area with seven chairs, just enough comfortable furniture for a Quidditch team. There were semi-private bunk spaces spaced all around the tent. Katherine took his trunk from him and set it next to one of the bunks.
"I'm a Chaser. My two fellow Chasers are outside making trouble for themselves. Bobby and Emily are our Beaters." Katherine pointed to a blonde girl with a pert nose, and a stocky black-haired boy sitting in the common area. "Guys, this is our new Seeker, Harry. I expect you to protect him, as he'll have a lot of learning to do, and the other teams will know it."
"What about Eddie?" Emily asked. She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and frowned at Harry. "It's his turn."
"Eddie is still captaining a pre-team training squad as far as I know," Katherine said with a shrug. "Fiona wouldn't have sent us the pipsqueak if he wasn't good."
Emily did not seem satisfied with that answer. She crossed the central area of the tent and led Katherine to one of the enclosures to have a word.
Harry didn't like the queasy feeling that being discussed brought to life in his gut. Then Bobby waved him over. "It isn't you," he said. "Em is dating Eddie. And she was counting on his promotion to get him fulltime out here. She'll live. So, you know how the training system works? They're explaining it to your age group down in the pre-team training. But as you're skipping pre-team training..."
"Not really. I know Coach Boris was teaching us fundamentals during the spring practices. But now we're going to fly on real Quidditch teams and practice the game, for real. Right?" Harry waited to see if his assumptions were correct.
"Sort of," Bobby said. "We've always got an odd number of people, too many Beaters, never enough Seekers. They set this place up so that the surplus keeps practicing basics with occasional scrimmages, and the best are pulled out to make four teams that really play as teams. The teachers try to make the top four pretty equal. We dropped to the bottom after our roster got pillaged of course. The Westies we were expecting, but losing our Keeper was a bit of a blow." With a rueful smile, Bobby handed Harry a large hunk of bread and a Butterbeer. "Eat, drink, and get some sleep," he commanded. "We have a scrimmage tomorrow."
That night as Harry was getting dressed for bed, he pulled a small scroll of parchment out of his pocket. Oliver had given it to him, and Harry had all but forgotten it in the excitement that had followed. For a moment he considered not opening it. Maybe it was enchanted? No one would want him to read it if they knew he had it, but Harry couldn't resist his curiosity. He unrolled the parchment.
On a broom in the air is the only place I'm truly free. It is a truth that I have known for most of my life.
Don't let people tell you that it's wrong to be free.
You can be free too.
Harry stared at the simple phrases, surprised at its message. He had expected an advertisement. Come down south! Our Quidditch program can't be beat! And the Weather isn't really that bad either! But it was just an odd testimony, one that resonated with Harry. Folding the parchment into a small square, he took a seat on his bunk. It wasn't like he would abandon his life and sister to go play Quidditch in Antarctica.
But he didn't throw the parchment away.
The only illumination entering Albus's office came through the window, a sluggish red twilight. But Dumbledore made no attempt to light the candles. His mind was pregnant with potent truth. Oscasia had stolen children. Snape's vague clue, which had barely warranted an investigation, had borne fruit, terrible, hopeful fruit.
Children thought dead and gone were alive. Albus had dispatched a complete task force to complete the interrogation of Lily's list, and then locate every possible stolen child. So far their results had been illuminating. Lily and Remus made a list of possible traitors. Now Albus had built a list of possible survivors. Some were already definite survivors.
But he couldn't tell the parents -- not yet. How could he expect a parent to hear the news that their child was alive and well, and expect them to wait to reclaim them? Reclaiming the rebellion's stolen children had to be handled carefully. The empire should never know that their clever scheme was discovered and subverted.
Albus already had a plan.
A knock at his door heralded the arrival of Melinda Potter in a swirl of skirts and flutter of parchments. A pair of eyeglasses perched at the tip of her nose caught a bit of the fading light before she lit Albus's candles with a couple of pointed wand swishes. "Are you napping in the dark?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "Have you brought your new article, then? You're early."
"It's all finished, Raq Flying for the new spectator." She smiled and set the papers on Albus's desk, but he made no move to look at them. "Is it a bad time?"
"Did you know that I was acquainted with your son and daughter in law?" Albus asked.
Melinda frowned. "They both attended school..."
"No," Albus interrupted her. "I spoke to your son just a few days ago. He is one of my most trusted Admirals. Did he tell you about his promotion?"
"Admiral?" Melinda felt her eyes go wide, and she groped her way into a nearby chair as her knees seemed to have gone weak. Was Albus insinuating what it sounded like he was insinuating? How could a school governor be involved in the rebellion? It had to be some form of trap. "I don't know what you mean. My son is in South America. He's been there for years, campaigning against human sacrifice. He's a chip off the old block really."
Albus ignored her reiteration of the old lies. It would take her a moment to accept his new role, to accept that he wasn't trying to trap her. "I helped come up with the lies you're telling. The original plan was to say they were living in Africa, working against organized dragon fighting." Albus paused for a moment and watched the realization hitting her. "You've always struck me as a steady woman, a woman who understands patience and calculated action. I need your help, Melinda. Are you ready to return the favour you owe me?"
"I do not associate myself with the rebellion," Melinda said stiffly. "In my life I've never struck out against the government in a non-peaceable manner. What messes my daughter-in-law has involved my son it, don't involve me."
"Of course." Albus nodded. "I thought you might make an exception for your grandchildren."
Her expression darkened and Melinda was on her feet in a flash. "How dare you even mention them? How dare you try to use them? My grandchildren died because of your rebellion, and you don't get to use them."
"I don't want to use your grandchildren. I would like to give them back to you and your family." Albus rose and met Melinda's angry stare with his own sad determined gaze. "But it must be handled with the utmost care, the utmost secrecy."
"You can't give back the dead," Melinda hissed. But her mind was already churning with possibilities. Was Albus insinuating that her grandchildren were alive? There was just no way. Was there?
"Nearly fifty children have been taken, from what we've uncovered so far. Fortunately, they seem to be unharmed and quite accessible for recovery, but we have to be cautious. The empire faked their deaths and took them for a reason, even if it isn't clear to us why." Albus strode around the desk until he was close by Melinda. "We have to take back what was stolen, but in a way that empire will not suspect anything. I need help that you can give, to get these children safely home."
"Are you mad?" Melinda stepped away from Albus, her face contorted in a horrified disbelieving frown. "There was a fire..."
Albus extended his wand at the wall, where the composites of the current Class I students hung. "Engorgio!" The first-year's canvas stretched so that it filled the entire wall. The now large grinning rows of students stared back at them but Albus strode to the one picture he needed Melinda to see. "This boy's name is Harry Green. He's is eleven years old, and he lives in a group home in London with his little sister Isobel. He looks quite a bit like his father, I think."
Melinda didn't realize that her mouth had dropped open for several seconds. It was the most strangely pleasant shock, to see Harry staring at her. Not a five-year-old anymore, but a young man. He had made Class I like his father. She walked up to the painting and touched it. Harry flinched back a bit and squirmed under her gaze. "Why haven't they been taken back? If we know it's them, what are we waiting for? What do you want from me Albus?"
"If we do this right, no children will be left behind. If we do this right, the empire will not be able to steal children this way again. I have a plan," Albus said. "Will you help me?"
"How long is it going to take? We have wasted a lot of time." Melinda wanted to go straight to her grandchildren, but Albus was right about her appreciation of thoughtful deliberate action. She had worked inside the law trying to reform the empire, a lifetime's deliberate action. "What do you need from me?"
"If all goes well, everyone should be home in a few months. As for what I need from you, I would like you to write some fiction." Albus crossed back to his desk and produced a carefully rolled parchment. "All the details are inside."
The prison ship cut through the waves, heading for the open ocean. Remus silently cast a spell at the ship, the words of the incantation running in his head, "Chronos Destino, Chronos Destino." Nyt was going through the hold releasing her crew. After some time, the prisoners began to emerge onto deck. Remus kept his seat, still casting his spell, again and again. A woman cut through the growing crowd. She was young and petite with a partially braided head of pink hair. "Well, mate, I'm assuming we won't be able to commandeer this ship, so I move we abandon her and Apparate home. The barmy idiots left everyone's wand aboard, so we shouldn't have any trouble."
Remus smiled thinly and nodded. "Please feel free to try." He could see the group converge on the railing out of the corner of his eye. But there wasn't a splash. Gradually grumbling began to fill the air. "You shouldn't panic," Remus said. "We'll be out of here soon. We just have to give the spell time to work."
The pink-haired woman re-emerged from the crowd and stopped in front of Remus. "What spell? Why can't we abandon ship?"
"This is a prison. It's designed for life sentences, not death sentences. You have your wands and supplies, and a ship you can't leave. As a group you -- we've -- been removed from the general population," Remus said. A chill raced up his arms at the thought of other such ships bobbing about on the ocean, people trapped forever. With their wands to keep them in oranges and fresh water, such a colony could survive indefinitely. If they knew the backdoor, they could escape, but no one would ever teach it to them.
"But you're going to get us out of this?" the pink-haired girl demanded.
"Yes, Captain Nyt, I am going to fix this, as promised." Remus couldn't quite contain a smile. "I like the new look by the way. Was it hard to maintain the old wizened face?" Nyt blushed, but Remus shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a little concealment, it was a smart move. You didn't know me, and wolves do have reputations."
"What spell are you working? You should let us help," Nyt said, ignoring his comment on her changed appearance. "You might have noticed that you're outnumbered."
"Outnumbered? I'm not the enemy, captain." Remus noticed a definite fading to the deck of the ship. "Make sure everyone is above deck. This will happen fast. We need to make sure we abandon ship the moment the charms break down. The ship will sink soon after."
Nyt nodded to the men and women behind her. "Make sure everyone is up here, even the ones you don't know. Be quick about it." She approached Remus, but he held a hand up in warning.
"I'm using the back door off this ship, a secret I learned from a wolf. The spell is dangerous enough with me casting it. Best to stay back, lest you get caught in it."
"Fine," Nyt muttered. The ship gave a strange shudder and the dark wood continued to fade. It was a dull grey now. The main mast was groaning. "What is happening to it?"
"The ship is getting very old, very fast." Remus stared at the boards that were now buckling in places. "Everyone! Try to abandon ship, and Disapparate out! Go now!" This time, when the men and women hurried to the railing, they were able to hoist themselves over. The glorious splashing of men and women escaping reached Remus's ears. Now was the most dangerous moment, the part that would likely cause the ship to sink rather quickly. Remus could feel his wand humming with the life he had siphoned out of the ship. When he broke the connection and ended the spell, likely as not, there would be an explosive release of energy. "Nyt, you need to go. I'll be following shortly."
"Why do I doubt you, wolf?" Nyt said. "A captain is never the second to last person off a ship."
He couldn't wait any longer. Drawing more energy would only make matters worse. Closing his eyes, Remus severed the connection. Light flashed, and it felt like a hand shoved him hard in the chest, knocking him off his feet.
Remus thought he heard Nyt and felt her tugging at his arm. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but the blackness claimed him.
"Heavy bloody wolf..."
Author's Note:
Sheepish grin. It's been too long. I know. Many many many thanks are owed Magical Maeve for the kind comma mallet work.