Cast Aside

For the Greater Good

Chapter 37

The view from the headmaster's tower was usually quite inspiring. That evening, however, as the sun crested the low mountains, bathing the school below his window in golden light, Albus Dumbledore was unmoved.

Grumbling to himself as he leaned against the cool stone window casing, he rolled the tangy lemon drop from one cheek to the other. Hardly anyone took his offered candies, besides the odd mischievous first year that found themselves in his office. He had long since stopped bothering to mix them with watered-down veritaserum.

Still, they were his favorites and he was an old man. The tangy sweet flavor was one of the few remaining pleasures in his life. That and wielding his outsized and, by his estimation, deserved power over various parts of wizarding society.

Unfortunately, all of his considerable power and influence was of utterly no use to him in his current endeavor. Fabian Prewett was famous for his warding. That prodigious skill was keeping Albus from the information he so desperately wanted. The little hat business had garnered them favor and protection from the Ministry and the wards kept Albus's own men out.

Even worse, his best men, the ones that would be most suited to spy on the Prewetts, were completely unwilling. Oh, they hadn't abandoned him yet, but anything involving the once-devout twins was off the table.

It was his own fault, he could admit that now. His ploy to use the Weasleys had been a step too far. No matter that he told himself he'd only imagined a few low-level nobodies easily dispatched by Arthur, the reality of what had happened that day and its consequences would haunt him to his dying day.

Not that he would ever have the chance to apologize, even if the desire truly struck him. No. Albus was honest enough with himself to know his true regret lay not with what could have happened to a good family, but what did happen to his plans.

It was a wonder more of his close associates had never realized exactly what an unfeeling pragmatist he was. He'd never have such devoted followers if he weren't such a talented actor.

Heaving a final sigh, Albus turned from the window to slump into his desk chair. The familiar cushioned velvet was less comfortable that morning than usual. Everything and everyone seemed intent on further fouling his mood.

He tapped his wand on the top of his desk, thinking. It had been several days since any of his favorite Gryffindor quartet—now a trio since Remus's reassignment—had checked in with him. Sirius and James at least were training to be Aurors. It was part of why he had chosen them for this mission, since so few wizards knew the Auror tracking spells.

Unfortunately, their training also put them in close, daily proximity to Kingsley, Moody, and Longbottom. All three men knew what had happened to the Prewetts. Kingsley and Moody even knew about the prophecy.

This put his only remaining useful pawns under the direct influence of his greatest detractors. While Longbottom hadn't said anything and Moody had stopped openly challenging him, Kingsley had never liked how Albus used the barely out-of-school boys. He was irritatingly sentimental about protecting the next generation—not that he was many years their senior himself.

The lack of contact was vexing.

Making a decision, Albus summoned Potter. He'd considered Black, but out of all of them, Sirius was the most skilled with occlumency. While it was useful in case of capture, it seriously hindered his own need for information.

As the minutes ticked by, Albus grew more and more agitated. The brat was making him wait. The impudence. If he had been concerned about interference before, Albus was more certain with every passing minute.