Once Upon a Wish

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The cloak came the next day, and it was sent via Special Delivery by a private delivery service that operated seven days a week. Vic had to sign for it. They had been surprised to see them there on a Sunday.

“That was weird,” Harry said as the delivery man left. “I mean that Dumbledore sent it this way,” he stated, looking at the package with almost greedy eyes. It was the only thing he had of his dad, and he really wanted it. He was bouncing on his toes waiting for Vic to make sure it was spell-free.

“Yes, it was,” Vic agreed, putting the package on the entryway’s table. He then cut the rope using a charm and opened it. He took out the cloak and examined it with his wand. There was a Tracking Spell and a small Compulsion Charm on it. Why the old man would have left those on when he knew Vic was going to check was anyone’s guess.

He took them off and handed the cloak to Harry. “There you go, Harry. Use it well,” he said, grinning at his nephew. He was just so happy to see it back in a Potter’s hands. He still had no idea how it came into Dumbledore’s possession. James had to have loaned it to him at some point, but for what purpose? He didn’t know.

“Thanks, Uncle Pads,” Harry said, grabbing it and putting it on. He swirled it around his body and then ran to look at the nearest mirror, which was in the loo near the study. “This is great. When they find out I’ve got this in spy class, they’re going to flip,” he stated. He could just imagine it now, sneaking around with no one able to find him. He’d be at the top of his class. He’d have to find a way to make himself quiet, but he could do that. Magic was great.

“You’re not going to tell them,” Vic and Arcturus stated at the same time. They were both united on this.

“What? Why?” Harry asked, coming out of the loo with the cloak still on all but his head. He looked very bizarre with only his head floating around.

“Take that off and let’s talk about this,” his uncle said, waving for him to join him by the portrait. He didn’t want to talk to just a head. It was disconcerting.

“Fine,” the preteen stated, whipping it off and folding it over his arm. He joined his uncles and pouted. He really wanted to use this in his spy classes. It would make things so much easier.

“Look, Harry, this is a Deathly Hallow. It is not a toy, or a tool. It is something Death, himself, created. There are consequences for using it,” Vic tried to explain, though he really didn’t know the ones for the cloak. Just the ones for the ring and the wand.  

“I know, I read the story, but Uncle Pads, it’s only a story,” Harry whinged, really wanting that to be true. However, he didn’t believe it himself. He was having dreams that Death was chasing him, and these things were real, and one was in his hands at that very moment.

“You know better than that,” Vic stated, giving him a stern look. He knew Harry was just being a kid, but…

“I know,” the boy said, pouting harder. “It’s just…” he trailed off. He couldn’t argue the point any further.

“I, for one, am surprised Dumbledore gave it up so willingly. I thought he would fight harder,” Arcturus stated, pacing his picture frame. He wondered what the old man was up to. He was sure there had to be something dubious about this.

“I did too, but Amelia told him to hand it over and he just conceded,” Vic said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Perhaps he doesn’t think you’ll find out the Deathly Hallows are real,” said John, coming in from his daily run. He was sweaty, but barely out of breath. He looked fit and muscled and was drinking from a sports bottle.

Marcus was by his side, having recently joined him. He was panting though, being more out of shape than his friend. He too was sweaty, not quite as muscled. His sports bottle was already empty. He had drunk it on the road.

“Could be,” Marcus agreed, sitting down and putting his head between his knees to breathe.

“Come on, you two, it’s time for you to spar,” John said to Vic and Harry. It was Sunday, and they had some time before Harry had to get to class.

“Yay,” said Harry. He was more than happy to spar with his Uncle Pads, he was getting quite good at it and almost beat him a time or two. They were training him up in spy class in hand-to-hand combat, and it helped him dodge quite well in these mock fights.

“Go put your cloak away,” Vic said, motioning to Harry to put it somewhere safe.

“I’ve got just the place for it,” the kid said, going to his room and putting it in his secret hiding space in the back of his closet, which was in the wall, behind the boxes, under a few spells. Sure, a consummate thief might find it, but he’d work on it. He was only eleven.

Then, the two of them went to the rec room and squared off. Harry smiled and winked at him and drew his wand. Vic did the same. Then the two of them were off, throwing spells at one another like no one’s business. They kept it to third years stuff, to keep it fair to Harry.  Not that Harry was in third year, but he was advanced enough to know those spells. He didn’t let Hermione know that. She’d have kittens.

Vic won, of course, but Harry came closer than last time.

“I’ve got to get to class,” he said, getting up and dusting off his trousers. He ran from the room and went to his bedroom to dress in his suit that he always wore to spy school. He was still put-out that he couldn’t take his cloak to school, but he kinda understood. He would still use it if necessary. He wasn’t going to keep such a valuable tool hidden in the closet.

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Vic decided to talk to Goldfinger about the vaults. He didn’t know if it would come to anything, but he had to start somewhere. He went to the bank, which was open 24/7, and asked to be seen by his account manager. He was told to wait, and he did. After about fifteen minutes, he was shown back.

“Thank you for seeing me, Goldfinger,” he stated, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs. “I have something I’d like to ask you about,” he said, adjusting his trouser leg as he crossed his legs.

“Well, hurry up, time is money,” the surly goblin stated, shuffling some parchmentwork around his desk. He had no idea what the man could want. For one, he came in on a weekend. And another, everything was going fine with his and Harry’s accounts. The Dursleys were long in prison, and all that money had been refunded. Their investments were doing well and both he and the boy were very rich.

“You know how we took the horcrux out of Harry’s head?” Vic asked, tilting his head, leading into the topic instead of coming right out and asking, like he probably should have.

“Yes, what of it?” Goldfinger inquired, looking at him in a grumpy manner. He was an account manager, not a healer.

“We found three more and we were wondering if there might be more here in the vaults of Gringotts,” the Minister said, looking around the room like one might pop up any moment. “I know there are treaties that are supposed to prevent that from happening, but we’re talking about Death Eaters here,” he stated, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘what can you do’ manner.

“I had not thought about that,” the goblin stated, rubbing his chin. His long spindly fingers made scratchy noises as he rubbed his beard. “I will have to take it up with the King. I cannot issue an audit on the vaults. However, he can.” He liked the idea of going to Ragnuk. He might get a reward. If something is found.  

“That’s all that I ask,” Vic stated, relief in his voice. His shoulders slumped as if a weight had been taken off them. He hadn’t even known he was that tense.

“Was there anything else?” Goldfinger asked, going back to his paperwork. He didn’t want to show he was anxious to do this to the human. He’d do it as soon as the man left.

“No, I just have to go to my vault,” Vic said, getting up and leaving the office. He went to the lobby and to the carts. There he ventured down to the vault and gathered the Resurrection Ring. He didn’t really want to give it to Harry, but who was he to argue with Death?

First, he had to go to the office for a while. Harry was in class, so he might as well get some paperwork done. The price of being Minister, there was a never-ending list of work to do.

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Moody was wandering the halls of Hogwarts; he was looking for the horcrux. He had simply walked in and started walking around. He started on the ground floor and searched the entire area. Nothing there.

The kids were looking at him with fear and awe. He was quite creepy looking to them. There was a large gaggle of them following him around, but he didn’t care. As long as they didn’t get in his way.

McGonagall had seen him, huffed, and went to get the headmaster. She wasn’t going to argue with the man, he was too surly and pigheaded for her to butt heads with. Besides, Albus was his friend.

“Ah, Alastor, whatever are you doing here?” the old man asked as he fell into step with the one-legged man. He was shocked when Minerva told him the man was wandering around the school. He looked at the group of students and shooed them away.

They all took off giggling and talking.

“I’m looking for the ‘you-know-what’,” Moody stated, shifting his good eye to all the kids in the hall. His magical eye looking in the walls for secret rooms and passageways. He’d found four so far, but they didn’t hold what he was looking for. He was now on the second floor.

“You cannot just come into the school and disrupt it like this,” Albus said, trying to steer the man out of the way of the students. He didn’t want to anger the man, they were friends, however, he didn’t want him here either. He wanted to keep the horcruxes a secret and only to him and those he selected to know.

“We need to find it,” Alastor stated, pulling his arm from his friend’s grasp, almost losing his balance. “It’s important,” he said, and moved to the staircase, lamenting the thought of going up more of those stairs. “If there is one here, it’s dangerous,” he tacked on, giving his friend a warning look.

“Why do you think one is here?” Dumbledore tried a different tactic, following the man so he didn’t create trouble. He had an inkling as to why Voldemort would hide one on the grounds of Hogwarts, but didn’t think the man was foolish enough to do so while he was headmaster. That was just unfathomable.

“This is one of the most secure places in Britain,” Alastor said as he started his climb. He was still looking through the walls as he went and seeing nothing. Not that his magical eye saw all, but it could see evil like he saw the other day.

“How, pray tell, do you plan on searching the whole castle?” tried the headmaster, trying to make the man see reason.

“I’m retired, I have plenty of time,” the one-legged man said, waving him off. Then he tapped his magical eye and said, “And I have this.”

“Alastor, you cannot disrupt the school like this,” Albus said again. He shooed more children off as they started gathering again.

“It’s Sunday, I’m not disrupting anything,” Moody disagreed, and continued his search. He was on the third floor now and still not finding anything. There were two more secret rooms, but they were empty, and dust covered. There was one hidden tunnel, but it led to the first floor, and he was just there.

“I must insist that I join you on your search,” Albus compromised, putting his hands behind his back and following along. He wasn’t going to search for anything, but he couldn’t let the man wander the castle unattended.

“Whatever, Albus, do what you will. Just don’t get in my way,” Moody stated, moving to the stairs again going to the fourth floor. They fell silent as Alastor searched high and low for the horcrux until he came to a room he couldn’t open. It was on the seventh floor near a tapestry of a man trying to teach trolls to dance. “What’s behind this wall? There are evil artifacts back there,” he stated, seeing something, not quite in focus. Like they were in a different dimension.

“It is just a wall, Alastor,” Albus said, shaking his head at the paranoid man. He vaguely remembered a loo here once, but that could not be correct. There was not one here now.

“Call me a house elf,” Moody said, getting an idea. “Or one of the ghosts,” he added, thinking they would know if the elves didn’t.

“Stroppy,” Dumbledore called, wrinkling his brow as he did so.

“Headmaster Dumblydore is calling Stroppy?” the elf said when he popped in. He was dressed in a Hogwarts tea towel, with the emblem of the school emblazoned on the front of it.

“Is there anything behind this wall?” the old man asked, expecting to be told no. He thought he knew this castle better than anyone, after all.

“Yes, sir, Headmaster, sir. There is being the Come and Go Room,” Stroppy stated, nodding his head vigorously.

“How do I get in it?” Moody asked, a bit gruffly, winching when he realized he was snapping at an elf. He usually tried to treat them with more care.

“Yous is being walking back and forth three times and asking for some place to hide things,” the elf said, nodding his head in a knowing way. He was wringing his hands in a worried fashion, like he was about to be punished.

“Right,” Alastor said, and started stomping back and forth until a door appeared. It was a plain wooden door, with a brass handle. Everyone, besides Stroppy, were amazed when this happened. Moody grabbed the door, palmed his wand, and opened it.

Inside there were mountains of junk. Everything a magical could imagine was in there. Broken, whole and in-between, it was there. Piled as high as the eye could see and as far as they could look. The room was more massive than the castle. It had to be dimensional.

“Shite,” Moody said, his magical eye roaming the room. “This is going to take a moment.” He started walking forward. He was homed in on what he wanted, he could see it and feel it, he just had to navigate the mounds of junk to get there. He held his wand high and walked on.

“Wait, Alastor, you do not know what is in there,” Albus said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“It is being the room of lost things,” Stroppy said, helpfully.

“Yes, thank you, Stroppy. That is not what I meant,” the headmaster said with a sigh. “Alastor, who knows what the house elves consider lost,” he added, looking at some volatile looking potions vials, and some broken mirrors that glowed different colors. There were cracked wands that looked like they could explode at any moment as well. Trunks that teetered on top of other trunks, it looked like a landslide could happen at any time.

“I’ll take my chances,” Alastor said, creeping his way through the maze of stuff. He had a shield charm already in front of him and was ready to duck as well as he could if anything went wrong.

“Fine, I am coming with you,” Albus stated, starting to follow, and banishing things as he went. He wasn’t going to let his friend die for this foolishness.

They made their way to where Moody felt the evil, and Alastor picked up a broken lead box along the way. He repaired it with a spell and carried it in front of him. They came to an area where there were some shelves and on one of them was a bust that had a diadem.

“That’s it,” Moody said, pointing his wand at the crown.

“That is the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw,” Dumbledore said, moving to grab the headpiece. He just had to put it on. It was said that if you wore it you would know all there was to know about magic.

“Dammit, Albus, don’t touch that,” Moody said, grabbing the old man’s robes, pulling him back. He almost knocked them both over. “It could be cursed, you old fool,” he snapped, waving his wand at the diadem. It wasn’t cursed, surprisingly. It was, however, a horcrux.

“I cannot let you have this,” Dumbledore stated, standing to his full height. He didn’t try to go forward again, but he wasn’t going to give up a school treasure. “This is a lost treasure of Hogwarts.” He was standing like he wasn’t going to budge.

“Dammit, Albus, it’s a horcrux,” Moody stated, getting ready for a fight. “It’ll get cleansed by the goblins and they’ll give it back to you,” he said, like it was obvious. “We’re not going to keep it.” He hadn’t known that going in, but what did he care what happened to it. He just cared that the Dark Lord didn’t come back.

“I will take it to them myself,” the headmaster said, like it was his mission in life.

“I’ll be joining you,” Alastor stated, like he didn’t trust the old man. Well, he didn’t trust anyone. “Here,” he said, handing him the box. “We’ll go now,” he said, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Yes, I feel that would be best,” the headmaster agreed, levitating the diadem into the box and closing it. He felt much better. He looked around the room and wondered what he was going to do with it now that he knew about it. There must be a thousand year’s worth of junk here that needed to be sorted through. Detention? He’d think about it later.

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An hour later, Moody stomped into the Minister’s office and threw himself into a chair. Vic just looked at him and continued his paperwork. Alastor would talk whether he worked or not.

“I just got back from Hogwarts and Gringotts. We found another one,” the one-legged man stated, rubbing his magical eye area. It was itchy from too much use. He’d need to soak it.

“Oh, really? That’s great. I talked to the goblins this afternoon, and Goldfinger said he’d talk to the King,” Vic stated, putting his paperwork away. He was only here for an hour or so. It was still Sunday. Moody was lucky to have caught him here.

“Yeah, I know, they told me to tell you they found one in the Lestrange vault,” Moody said with a snort. “That makes five. Not including Harry. If I know my Arithmancy he’ll do six,” he said, tapping his fingers on his wooden leg.

“Well, we’ve run out of places to look,” the Minister stated, blowing out a breath of air and running a hand through his hair.

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open,” the other man stated.

“I guess so,” Vic said, sighing a frustrated sigh.

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Deep in the woods of Albania, the Dark Lord Voldemort’s wraith was drifting near a snake he was going to possess, when he felt his last horcrux die. When it did, he felt his last anchor on this earth snap, and he faded away. His last thoughts were, “Damn you, Dumbledore.”