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HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 459
🕑 Added 2025-12-10 13:29:06 +0000 UTCChapter 459: Initiative
“Yes, it was me, Professor.”
“So this is another Horcrux, is it not?”
“That is right, Professor. This one was kept in the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts. Hufflepuff’s cup.”
At the name of Hufflepuff’s cup, Dumbledore let out a slow breath.
“Slytherin’s locket, Ravenclaw’s diadem, Hufflepuff’s cup… Once, Voldemort asked to borrow Godric Gryffindor’s sword from me, but I refused. In hindsight, that was a wise decision.”
“Speaking of Gryffindor’s sword, I have a question,” Sean said. “Professor, would it be possible to lend it to me for a while? I do not have a weapon that truly suits me. Back in second year, when I killed the Basilisk, I used the sword for a short time and it felt perfect in my hand. I was hoping I might borrow it.”
Dumbledore’s expression turned faintly odd.
He had just finished saying he had refused Voldemort, and now Sean was asking to borrow Gryffindor’s sword.
“Sean, it is not that I am unwilling,” he said. “You must understand that the sword of Gryffindor chooses its own wielder. Only a Gryffindor of outstanding courage can take it by the hilt.”
“But I have already held it once,” Sean pointed out.
“A special circumstance,” Dumbledore replied. “As I said, the sword has a will of its own. Still, if you truly wish to try, then once this current business is concluded, and I return to Hogwarts, come and find me. I will let you attempt to draw it, and we shall see whether you can hold Gryffindor’s sword now.”
Since Dumbledore had put it that way, Sean did not press the matter.
“Very well,” he said. “We will speak again when you are back. Going by my estimate, that will be fairly soon.”
“Oh?” Dumbledore asked. “And why is that?”
“Harry and the others seem to have plans of their own,” Sean said. “It should not be long before they act.”
“That is earlier than I expected,” Dumbledore admitted.
“Children grow up,” Sean said quietly. “They form their own thoughts. And he tried more than once to discuss this with us. We are the ones who deliberately avoided him, indulged him, even nudged him into this position. We do not have the right to call him reckless now.”
“Sean, as far as the records show, you and Harry are the same age, are you not?” Dumbledore asked mildly.
“Sometimes age cannot be measured by the body alone,” Sean replied. “The only age that matters is the one in your mind.”
When the conversation ended, Sean put away the two‑way mirror and turned to Kurkan, who was still working on a strip of dried dragon meat.
“Kurkan,” he said, “from now on, you stay with me, all the time, everywhere. I am about to walk into one battle after another. I will need your help.”
Kurkan darted onto his shoulder in a blur, the last piece of dragon meat clamped in her jaws.
“No problem,” she mumbled around it. “I was bored anyway. If that Voldemort fellow bullies you, I will bite him for you.”
“Good,” Sean said. “I will count on your protection then.”
“Leave it to me,” she said proudly. “You can relax.”
…
“Ah…!”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath and jolted awake.
His face was ashen. For the first time in nearly a month, he had once again seen scenes of Voldemort and his Death Eaters in his dreams.
Voldemort’s patience had run out.
He was furious with Umbridge’s continued failure to gain entry to the Department of Mysteries and locate what he wanted.
At the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries was so secretive that not even the Minister could order them about directly. All commands had to go through the Wizengamot. Umbridge had already held meeting after meeting over the issue, but aside from those who served Voldemort unquestioningly, every other member, pure‑blood or otherwise, had voted against her proposal to open the Department up for “investigation”.
Her plan to obtain the prophecy orb about Voldemort from inside had collapsed completely.
In the end, Umbridge’s authority rested on her title as Acting Minister. Without real power behind that title, she had no way to move the Ministry at all.
Harry had not relied on the dreams alone.
He had quietly investigated what Voldemort wanted from the Department of Mysteries and Umbridge’s repeated attempts to pry into it, through his own channels. With the help of Bill and Charlie Weasley, he dug into the matter and confirmed that what he was seeing was absolutely real.
That made him all the more anxious.
But no matter how he tried, he could not get through to Sean. Dumbledore was just as unreachable.
In the end, Harry went to the fireplace.
He flicked his wand, lit the grate, then cast another spell to make the flames whirl into a spinning vortex.
Kneeling before the fire, he called Sirius’s name.
“Sirius…”
“Sirius…”
“Sirius…”
On his third call, the flames twisted into the rough shape of a human face, features picked out in fire.
It was Sirius.
“Harry, I am a bit busy at the moment,” Sirius said. “Can we make this quick?”
Hearing that, a flicker of anger stirred in Harry’s chest.
He had had enough lately of being brushed aside.
He forced it down.
He knew Sirius had made a terrible mistake bringing him to the Ministry last time. He also knew Sirius had been trying to make up for it ever since, working himself ragged.
“Sirius, I had a dream,” Harry began. “Voldemort was furious. He is desperate to get—”
“Harry, not now,” Sirius cut across him. “Something has come up. Dumbledore has found a lead on some Death Eaters and we are heading out after them.
“I know about your dream. Do not worry about it for the moment. Focus on your Occlumency. When things settle down, I will come straight to the Burrow to see you. Remember to listen to Molly.”
“Siri—”
Before Harry could finish, Sirius’s fiery face broke apart and vanished.
The words caught in Harry’s throat, choking him.
He stared at the empty fireplace for a long time, then slammed his fist into the stone.
He hit hard.
Skin split and blood welled, but he barely noticed.
“Voldemort cannot be allowed to just walk in and take that thing,” he whispered to the cold grate. “Can he?
“Sean told me before. With the link between me and Voldemort, I was always destined to shoulder the burden of fighting him and his Death Eaters sooner rather than later.
“Dumbledore and Sean are both busy. Sirius and the others are busy. I am the only one doing nothing.”
He drew a long breath.
“So I am the one who should move.”
With that, Harry turned his head to look at his Firebolt and his Invisibility Cloak, lying together in the sitting room.
Resolve hardened in his eyes as he stepped towards them.
