Special edition

Return to the present

Dumbledore turned to face the assembly. After this pointless expedition to the Gaunt residence, he had to face the suspicious looks of the wizards gathered urgently by Severus. For the first time, he took the time to detail those present. There were, of course, the four heads of the Hogwarts houses: Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, joined by Rubeus Hagrid.

Dumbledore was not sure he approved of Severus's choice to involve Sprout and Flitwick. They were highly talented wizards, but they had no combat experience and Dumbledore doubted they would prove useful. Flitwick was indeed a former dueling champion, but Dumbledore had discovered bitterly that war had nothing to do with these competitions based on an extremely strict code of honor. Who could tell how the jovial wizard would react when his life was threatened? In previous wars, he had seen too many excellent wizards perish, paralyzed by fear or killed from behind after wanting to adhere to moral rules that only applied in peacetime, to look favorably on complete novices accompanying him on such a dangerous mission. But it was true that in such a short time, it was inevitable to call upon their help.

The other recruits of Severus satisfied Dumbledore more. There was his eternal companion in battles: Mad-Eye Moody, with his apprentice Nymphadora Tonks and a handful of other Aurors (like Kingsley Shacklebolt), who trusted his old friend enough to leave their posts on a simple request (at the risk of receiving a severe reprimand).

However, they all now looked accusingly at Mad-Eye for having made them move without any valid reason. It didn't take a Merlin to understand that they were wondering if the rumors about the legendary Auror's senility were true. Well, almost all of them. Nymphadora, for her part, was content to shoot dark looks at everyone, which for the moment dissuaded her colleagues from making any criticism against her mentor. As for Mad-Eye, he pretended to be indifferent to what was happening behind his back and fixed his two eyes on Dumbledore, clearly waiting for an explanation.

More than ever, Dumbledore was going to have to play the role of the all-knowing and all-powerful wise old man. He cursed the circumstances that had led him to take on this role that suited neither his character nor his abilities, eroded by age. Nevertheless, another lesson that previous wars had painfully taught him was that to overcome their fear of dying and throw themselves wholeheartedly into battle, most humans needed to believe that a superior being would watch over them. Or a leader more frightening than death itself. But Dumbledore had decided to leave the exclusivity of this second command technique to Voldemort.

In any case, he was going to have to be convincing if he didn't want to find himself alone against Voldemort. Especially since if he couldn't convince them, how could he hope to convince the rest of the wizarding world?

My friends, I realize how difficult it may be to believe, but Voldemort is back. Dumbledore suddenly declared.

He waited for the wizards present to stop grimacing before continuing:

After long research, I discovered that at the height of his glory, Voldemort had created several objects that would allow him to return among the living.alive by taking possession or stealing the life energy of the unfortunate victim who would fall upon it. This is what almost happened to the youngest of the Weasleys last year. At the time, it was only thanks to the intervention as heroic as it was lucky of Harry Potter that she was able to get out of it.

In front of the skeptical expressions of the aurors, he added:

I can state without too much error that Miss Weasley will be delighted to confirm my words and describe in detail the intervention of her savior. Of course, from the beginning of the first war, I suspected the existence of these objects. Nevertheless, the failure of my research to find them had convinced me that the magic required to create them was so dark that even Voldemort had not succeeded in implementing it. However, after the tragic events of that dark year, I was forced to revise my judgment. I have therefore devoted the past year to searching for these objects. Nevertheless, the renewed failure of my research, combined with the content of a prophecy concerning Potter and Voldemort...

Seeing that Nymphadora Tonks was about to ask a question, he added:

Yes, there is a prophecy about Harry and the Dark Lord, but even though Voldemort knows of its existence, he is unaware of its exact content. Well, I doubt that is still the case. But for your own safety, I will not reveal anything to you until I am reasonably sure. Anyway, let's continue. Reluctantly, I included young Potter in my research and prophetic magic did its work. We discovered his objects, one by one, and destroyed them in record time. All except one, which we suspected was in the ancestral home of Voldemort that you just visited.

This miserable hut cannot have sheltered the Dark Lord. Severus interrupted.

Unfortunately, he grew up in an even more miserable place. But I assure you that it was indeed his family home. So this morning, Potter and I went there in search of the object. Unfortunately, he found us. Before I could do anything, Voldemort came back to life and possessed young Potter. A duel ensued, but thanks to a surprise attack, he managed to take my wand, forcing me to flee to get reinforcements. The rest, you know.

And of course, we only have your word and this far-fetched story. The youngest of the Aurors named John Dawlish (if Dumbledore remembered correctly) replied violently.

There is also my mark. How do you explain that it is so clear? Severus replied, revealing his left arm that had been torturing him for hours now...

Keep that horror away from me, Death Eater! Since the death of the Dark Lord, it is just a tattoo. Who's to say he didn't revive his own mark to abuse Dumbledore's trust?

What interest would I have in doing that? Severus snapped, once again noting the unfathomable stupidity of human beings.

I don't know anything about it for the moment. Maybe to discredit Dumbledore and allow your old friend Lucius Malfoy to take his place as president of the Wizengamot. But don't worry: I will find out. And at that moment, I will make sure you rot in Azkaban with your colleagues for the rest of your days.

Without waiting for a response, he left the director's office, taking half of his colleagues with him. Dumbledore didn't know how, but he found the strength to hold them back by using all his rhetorical tricks and prestige. But it had exhausted him. He no longer had the strength to fight. He was so old and tired. Fortunately, the house heads had no difficulty accepting his account. Even though the looks Pomona gave him indicated that he would have to endure another complicated discussion before finally being able to go to bed. What a shame the child hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor as he had planned. It would have been much easier to get Minerva to accept the situation and his choices. She was no less attached to the safety of her students than Pomona, but she was more accustomed to her pupils stupidly risking their lives. Not to mention that during the first war, she had unfortunately learned to accept the unacceptable.

Dumbledore was tired of his thoughts when an owl flew into the room and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him. Dumbledore curiously reached out for the paper. It was a simple sheet with "Special Edition" written on it. With growing curiosity, Dumbledore unfolded the sheet. The newspaper hadn't made a special edition since the end of the war. Even Sirius Black's escape hadn't been considered important enough for that.

Dumbledore read the headline and choked. Reflexively, he set the newspaper on fire so that no one would see what it contained. Then he forced himself to calm down and think. He shouldn't have reacted that way. Sooner or later, the aurors would learn the vile news, and his reaction would only confirm their suspicions. Yet another proof that he was not infallibly wise. Voldemort had undeniably struck his first blow. He now had to think about his counterattack. Dumbledore was convinced that the key to Victory lay in the prophecy. Thus, he recited it mentally before deciding anything. But his thoughts were disturbed by the feeling of forgetting a detail. An important detail. To get rid of this impression, he forced himself to recall the horrible article. Then he jumped up, all fatigue forgotten, stood up, and ordered, projecting his power:

We must go immediately to King Cross.

The house directors were the first to regain their composure and follow him, concerned for the safety of their students even though the Hogwarts Express should have arrived safely several hours ago.

Dumbledore did not pay attention to whether he was being followed or not. He only thought of one thing: "I hope I don't arrive too late, or all hope is lost."

oOoOoOo

At the same time at King-Cross station, Petunia Dursley was worried sick. It had been a long time since the last child had gotten off that cursed train, but there was no sign of their son. She had been so happy that morning upon receiving that letter from Harry. The first since his escape last summer. Petunia had never read such a heartbreaking letter. Without revealing anything, Harry explained that he was sorry for what he had to do to them and begged them to forgive him. He told them he might be late, but that he would arrive today via the Hogwarts Express to return home for good.

After what she had learned about Harry's first year at Hogwarts, she dreaded finding out what horror had caused her son to turn his back on them like that last year. But this time Petunia vowed that the secrets were over. She would answer any questions he might ask about his parents.and in exchange, she would demand that he tell her in detail everything that had happened to him in the wizarding world. And above all, she would do everything in her power to make him understand that he was welcome in her home. She had even managed to convince Vernon to make an appointment with a therapist for family therapy (which was no small feat given his strong prejudices against psychologists). But all her good intentions would be in vain if her son was not returned to her.

True to himself, Vernon had waited with growing impatience. After all, his son's letter clearly stated that he might be a little late (even if he didn't understand how one could arrive after their train, but he attributed that to the absurdity of the wizarding world). However, after several hours, he was just furious and went to the nearest counter to vent his bad mood on the unfortunate clerk, who couldn't understand the cause of this Muggle's anger.

Vernon, not noticing that his interlocutor was unable to understand him, began to become violent towards the magically reinforced glass that separated him from the disgruntled customers. He also did not notice that owls were invading platform 9 3/4, nor that all the wizards waiting for their connection were frantically reading a newspaper sheet or spreading out a large photo of their entire family (it dated from when Dudley was still alive). He therefore continued his yelling:

I AM VERNON DURSLEY AND I DEMAND THAT YOU RETURN MY SON TO ME.

A witch then exclaimed:

It's them!

Without understanding what was happening, the Dursleys were quickly surrounded by a crowd of angry wizards, wands raised in their direction. But this barely calmed Vernon's anger, who positioned himself as best he could between the crowd and his terrified wife before shouting:

What do you want from me, you bunch of degenerates?

You are the degenerates!

CAEDIS !!

The spells rained down on the Dursleys and very quickly, they found themselves lying in blood on the station floor. Then, just as Vernon thought he was going to die, an explosion occurred and the spells ceased. Vernon looked up and swallowed. In front of him stood a small humanoid creature less than a meter tall, with bat-like ears, covered despite the early summer heat in a thick layer of shirt forming a kaleidoscope of colors that deeply repulsed Vernon.

Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Repeated the creature, apparently preventing itself from banging its head against the floor.

Vernon restrained himself with great difficulty from striking the horrible creature upon realizing that the respite he enjoyed was due to a golden barrier that now separated them from their attacker, which the elf maintained with great effort. Vernon got up and looked for an exit where he could drag Petunia. But wizards blocked access to the only path he knew to the normal world. Only one thing lifted Vernon's spirits. The creature had finally stopped its unbearable litany. Its shrill voice made him want to strangle it. But upon turning around, he realized it was only because it was exhausted.

Dobby had knelt on one knee and seemed to be struggling not to collapse completely, while the spells continued to crash against the barrier.This time, it's the end.Vernon thinks while holding his wife's hand. His life flashed before his eyes. He regretted never learning to better control his anger and abandoning Harry without being able to reassure him of his love, but he was glad to finally see his first son again.

The barrier broke and a wave of suffocating power flooded the area. Even Vernon fully felt the magic as it filled the place. The air seemed to crackle with intense heat, and his vision was distorted by its ripples. But he could still see his assailants vanish and an old wizard walking in their direction: Dumbledore had just arrived.

Vernon did not know whether he should scream in fear, rage, or relief. He opted for a cautious silence. And let the old wizard lead them docilely to the Hogwarts infirmary in a state close to catatonia.

Petunia cried bitterly throughout the journey. In her hands, she held one of the sheets she had managed to pick up before the crowd attacked them. It had been torn to pieces during the lynching they had suffered, but on it, you could still read:

From the Malfoy residence where he has taken refuge, Harry Potter files a complaint against his adoptive parents for severe abuse. On page 2, you will find the report of his early childhood memories that his lawyer allowed our reporters to view in a Pensieve (we remind you that even wizards expert in the mental arts cannot falsify memories in a Pensieve without it being visible).

His lawyer states that Dumbledore was aware of his mistreatment since Harry had confided in him during long meetings they had together last year, but the headmaster intended to force him to return to his horrible Muggles. A complaint has also been filed against him.

For the moment, our reporters have not been able to contact Mr. Dumbledore. However, we do not see what preposterous story he could still invent to get out of this predicament. Mr. Malfoy insisted before our departure that this matter should not be used as an excuse to rekindle hatred against Muggles, even though this matter clearly demonstrates that wizards must protect themselves from their obscurantism and their tendencies towards violence.