Waylaid Wands
The next few days were filled with helping the Winchesters and Bobby try and find the Devil’s Gate that Azazel was planning to use, and also trying to find information about dealing with an all-powerful God. Suffice it to say, Harry was having a hell of a time trying to find anything.
“Meraviglia?”
“Yeah darl’?” Harry asked, rubbing the heel of his palm against his developing eyebags as he pored over a thick tome he had found in a tomb he had investigated the other day.
“It’s the day we scheduled our meeting with Albus.”
“Damnit.” Harry muttered. “Okay, let me get presentable.”
It took a few moments, but Harry eventually blitzed through a shower, an entire carafe of coffee, and pulling an outfit together.
“Mind a change to the plan darl’?”
“What would the change be?”
“Bobby’s pretty close to cracking where the Gate is, so I disarm Albus, pop to the Scrapyard and you do the explaining?”
“I’d be amenable.”
At noon on the dot, Harry grabbed ahold of Blaise’s hand and popped both of them in front of the Shrieking Shack, immediately shooting a Disarming Charm at Dumbledore, catching the wand that flew his way and popping his way out of the area.
“… Mr. Zabini, might you explain what Mr. Potter just did?”
“Simply put, he acquired the last of the Hallows.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He simply acquired the Elder Wand, thus completing the trio of the Wand, Cloak and Stone.”
“Does he not understand the gravity of these items?” Dumbledore asked, voice filled with despair. “The damage that might be wrought by their existence? What might happen if he loses mastery of the Wand to another?”
Blaise simply gave his former Headmaster a bemused look.
“I fear you’re rather behind when it comes to the information Albus. Harry can’t lose mastery of the Wand.”
“Such confidence will lead him to losing it!”
“No, he quite literally can’t. Becoming the Master of Death is his predestined future. And I do mean true destiny, nothing along the lines of that torrid false prophecy that Voldemort so easily believed.”
“False?”
“…You truly didn’t know?” Blaise asked, genuinely confused. “And to think, this nation believes you infallible. Well, believed, though that’s beside the point. The prophecy you informed my dear boyfriend of is fraudulent.”
“My boy, I do believe it is real, such matters-“
“You believe incorrectly. You are also on record as believing that the field of divination is ‘rather wooly’ and a field ‘prone to charlatans’. The structure is Greek in nature, did you know?”
“I… did not, and be that as it may-“
“Greek prophecies are only true prophecies when given by a priestess of an oracular order, or a true Sybil and, well… all of those are rather lost.”
“Pardon?” Dumbledore asked, paling ever so slightly.
“It was mere artifice, crafted by a charlatan to ensure employment. Did you not think it oddly fortunate to have had the deliverance occur when interviewing her?”
“I… confess I had not.”
“Yes well, now that that has been cleared up, do ask your questions.”
“Yes, yes, questions.” Dumbledore muttered, smoothing his hands down his robes. “Are you and Mr. Potter truly guilty of what has been levied against you?”
“But of course. Dolores was using a blood quill. Well, had used. She only had a single chance to host a detention. Of course, there were other conspirators, though I won’t be naming them.”
“Why take such drastic measures? Why not attempt to bring it to our attention?”
“What would that have achieved? You are beholden to the Board of Governors, who are beholden to the Ministry, which is taking quite the fascistic turn, given Dolores’ presence in the school. She would have remained either way.”
“But what of the sanctity of his soul?”
“Oh Albus.” Blaise drawled. “That would hardly be the first time he’s killed a human. That would be age twelve.”
“Would you at the very least assent to informing me of your location?”
“And risk being taken back to Wizarding Britain by force? I think not, and it’s not as though it’s ever a fixed location. We’re Hunters.”
“Are you at the very least safe?”
“Well, about as safe as being a Hunter can be, but yes. Are we quite done?”
“I suppose if there is no other method to convince you to return, then yes, we are.”
“Well then, I have places to be then.” Blaise said as he pulled his necklace over his head. “Loki?”
“What’s up Loverboy?” Gabriel asked as he popped next to him.
“Would you be a dear and take me to the rest of the Club? Given the acquisition?”
“Oh, Sabrina netted it?” Gabriel asked, getting a nod in response. “Then sure!”
Blaise’s last glimpse of Dumbledore’s face was a delightful mix of confusion and indignation, which was quickly replaced by the tower that Harry had commandeered. And a concerned-looking Hermione.
“Oh, Blaise! Thank Go-“
“Ah!” Blaise interrupted. “Perhaps we avoid invoking that specific deity? And we also verify my identity?”
“Gabriel is next to you.” Hermione responded, an unimpressed look on her face. “And why should we avoid one of the most common expletives?”
“Because its subject is very real, and rather antagonistic.” Blaise responded. “Gabriel and my darling are working on it.”
“Okay, I’m ignoring that for now.” Hermione replied. “Because I don’t fancy a breakdown, but we have a problem.”
“Which would be?”
“The aurors are poking around again.”
“The issue?”
“They brought hit wizards with them.”
“Ah.”