Scrimgeour shouldn't have been nervous.
But he had just learned that Dumbledore and Harry had visited Grindelwald yesterday—and stayed the night in Nurmengard.
The three most powerful figures in the magical world, meeting in one place.
No magical government in the world could sleep easy after that.
Especially since, just before Dumbledore summoned him, Scrimgeour had received word that Grindelwald was furious.
So…
What exactly happened last night?
"Mr. Dumbledore, and Mr. Potter?" Scrimgeour asked cautiously, rehearsing his words mentally.
"Why are you suddenly calling me 'Mr. Potter'?" Harry looked at him.
Scrimgeour shrank back slightly.
The two men across from him raised their wands simultaneously and cast detection spells.
"Oh, it's Rufus," Dumbledore nodded.
"No suspicious aura," Harry added, lowering his wand.
Scrimgeour jumped. He lowered his head and stammered, "You visited Grindelwald yesterday and even stayed the night—scared the life out of a lot of people."
He took a deep breath and cautiously asked, "May I ask… what did you discuss?"
Harry tapped the table. "Catching up, mostly."
"We talked about how Voldemort, for all his Dark wizard status, is pitifully petty. At least Grindelwald knew how to charm powerful people. Tom? All he managed was an elderly woman."
Dumbledore coughed twice.
Scrimgeour's face twisted oddly. He didn't connect the comment to Dumbledore, just that Harry's words were… information-heavy.
So Grindelwald was that kind of man too?
"We also borrowed his Seer's Eye," Harry continued, "to ask about Voldemort-related matters. Relax—Grindelwald isn't going anywhere."
Scrimgeour opened his mouth and sighed.
Even though Grindelwald had already gone out yesterday and roughed up some of his people.
Because Scrimgeour had defied Thicknesse's orders, the Auror Office's funding had been severely cut, and he'd had to pay compensation out of his own pocket.
"How's the Ministry lately?" Harry asked.
Scrimgeour brightened up. "Better than before. Thicknesse barely has any support now. His brain and vision just can't handle the Ministry."
"We're just waiting for the right opportunity—a single event to bring him down."
He looked at Harry, hopeful.
"I want to visit the Department of Mysteries with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said plainly, ignoring the hopeful glance.
Scrimgeour froze, brows furrowing. "You want to visit too?"
"'Too'?" Harry caught the word immediately.
Scrimgeour nodded. "Thicknesse has been trying to bring the Department of Mysteries under his control. It's caused major unrest."
The Department of Mysteries, though part of the Ministry, had always stood apart from political power. It was run independently, and aside from requesting large budgets each month and year, barely interacted with the rest of the Ministry.
Even within the Ministry, few had ever visited. Its purpose, and what was researched there, remained mostly unknown.
But one thing was clear—it was important.
"In fact, many Ministers have been curious about it," Scrimgeour added, shaking his leg nervously. "But none ever stirred up as much trouble as Thicknesse."
"Shockingly, there are even people inside the Department who support him. That's never happened before."
"I investigated."
"And I'm sure you can guess what I found."
"Some of the Unspeakables were Death Eaters. They've been fanning the flames."
Harry frowned. "So what you're really saying is—the Department of Mysteries isn't open to visitors right now."
Scrimgeour nodded. "They've suspended all visits. Internal conflict is tearing them apart. If you want to visit, you'll have to wait at least two weeks—or until I get Thicknesse removed."
"Why not just arrest the Death Eaters?" Harry asked. "They must have the Dark Mark."
"The Department is autonomous," Scrimgeour emphasized.
Harry nodded. "At least they know not to hand the truly important things over to the Ministry."
Scrimgeour tilted his head, unable to refute it.
Harry flicked his wand. A letter floated out of the Sorting Hat and landed in Scrimgeour's hand.
"This is my formal request. Pass it along to the Department. I'll visit tomorrow."
"I'll deliver it," Scrimgeour said, pocketing the letter. "But they may not accept, and they might not—"
Harry cut him off calmly. "I'm giving them face."
"Courtesy should be returned—you know that."
Scrimgeour stiffened, glancing at him with silent resentment.
Right—how could he forget what kind of person Mr. Potter was?
Scrimgeour didn't stay for dinner. He rushed back—the Auror Office was busy, and Thicknesse assigned new tasks every day, some unavoidable. They'd already inspected Downing Street five times this week. At this rate, they might as well set up an office there.
"Harry, Grindelwald suggested we wait until the end of July to visit the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said, standing by the window and watching Scrimgeour hurry off.
"He can suggest," Harry nodded. "I'll listen—but it won't stop me from going tomorrow."
—
That night, at Malfoy Manor—
Thicknesse was reporting to Voldemort.
"Dumbledore and Potter stayed the night with Grindelwald?" Voldemort, seated on a sofa flipping through a book, asked. "And Potter intends to force a visit to the Department of Mysteries tomorrow?"
Thicknesse nodded. "Scrimgeour delivered the letter for Potter. He even had a shouting match with the Unspeakables—it didn't end well."
"It's possible the Department won't—"
Voldemort waved a hand. "No. It doesn't matter what the Department thinks."
"In this regard, Potter, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and I are alike. When we want something, no one can stop us."
"If Potter says he'll go tomorrow, then he will."
Thicknesse asked carefully, "Have I stirred up too much attention? Could Potter have guessed what you're after?"
Voldemort hadn't told him what exactly he wanted from the Department, but every Death Eater knew he sought something there—just not what.
"Is that so?" Voldemort shut the book, tossing it into the air where it floated to a shelf. "Let me think."
After a moment—
"My dear child."
In the corner, Barty Crouch Jr. stepped forward. "Father, I'm here."
"Tell me again what happened the night my main soul died."
Crouch began recounting the tale quietly.
Though he hadn't been there himself, he had seen through another's eyes. This precaution had now proven useful.
When he mentioned "Avalon," Voldemort beckoned him over. "Potter values Avalon that much?"
Crouch nodded. "Yes, Father. Potter cares deeply. That little girlfriend of his spent over half a year gathering materials on it for him."
"Dumbledore and Grindelwald once sought Avalon too," Voldemort mused. "And I did find it—and enter."
"Let me find it again."
He waved his hand.
A Pensieve and several vials of silvery memory strands floated over.
Horcruxes didn't share memories. Voldemort, anticipating the death of his main soul, had prepared—preserving memories he deemed important for his resurrection.
He selected one, poured it into the Pensieve, and dipped his head in.
"…Same eyes." He lifted his head, astonished. "The same as Harry Potter's."
"A young man—not black-haired, but white. Like Harry, he carried two swords."
"But he was accompanied by a black-haired woman."
"Who do you think was the Potter ancestor?"
Crouch said nothing. He knew Voldemort wasn't really asking him.
Voldemort put away the memories and Pensieve. "Do you know the way into Avalon?"
"Even Dumbledore and Grindelwald never made it."
"They're not as great as I am. Only by surpassing death can you enter Avalon."
Crouch raised his head, eyes burning with admiration.
"Potter probably doesn't care what I want from the Department," Voldemort mused, tapping his cheek.
"Maybe he thinks I hid a Horcrux in Avalon?"
"A naive idea. Unless he's as great as I am, he can't get in. If I put a Horcrux there, I'd be burying myself."
"Maybe it's those eyes…"
"No legend ever described those eyes. Did Potter uncover something in his family's history?"
He grew more certain as he spoke.
"Perhaps he wants to use the power of the Death Chamber—to briefly gain power over death and enter Avalon?" Voldemort's eyes gleamed. "Then we must act first—beat him there."
"This is a rare chance."
He stood and clapped. "Let's get ready."
"This may be your only chance in this lifetime to approach the promised land."
"Thicknesse, keep a close eye on Potter. If he enters the Death Chamber—report back immediately. Immediately."
Thicknesse shuddered and nodded furiously.
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Powerstones?
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