Whispers of a Raven by TheBlack'sResurgence

Chapter 8

Albus Dumbledore stroked the plumage of his companion as he sucked thoughtfully on a sherbet lemon, the bitter yet sugary treat doing little to assuage his concerns; Wizarding Britain was changing around him, and not for the best.

Alastor had been keeping him informed of what the group of what appeared to be pureblood supremacists were up to. What he learned left him feeling unsettled, especially since little was being done to combat the threat they posed. With each successful attack, they became bolder and more brazen. He had heard some rather unpleasant tales of the aftermath the aurors came upon.

He had hoped that Millicent would have taken these occurrences more seriously, but she had yet to. He would not pretend to know her thoughts on the matter, but evidently, they were not as urgent as his or the veteran auror who kept him posted.

It was becoming truly worrying, the movement gathering more followers with each passing day it would seem.

If the Ministry did not act soon, another avenue would have to be explored, one he was loath to take but would if necessary.

The attacks, however, were not all that had been occupying his thoughts. Ever since he had laid eyes on the Lord Peverell, he had been curious and had done all he could to sate such, but to no avail.

There was nothing to be found other than what Narcissa Black had explained; The man had been found floating in the River Thames and brought to St Mungo's.

There was no registration of his birth, no files accessible in the Ministry archives. It was as though the man had fallen from the sky for all that could be discovered about him.

It was an odd that Peverell's arrival coincided with these attacks. Was he somehow linked to them?

Albus knew not but he was determined to get to the bottom of it. A family line returning after almost a millennium was unheard of.

He turned his attention to the wand he had won some thirty-years prior and shook his head.

It was no longer his, no longer functioned as it had for him which led the headmaster to believe that Peverell was who he claimed to be. Why else would the wand stop working for him unless it had become aware of a new master?

Albus did not know. He did not understand the intricacies of wandlore and certainly not the type of magic that created this one. It was cold and unyielding, nothing like the magic he had felt around him his whole life.

With a sigh, he placed it on his desk.

It may no longer answer to him but that did not mean he would be handing it to Peverell. It could well be nothing but a coincidence that the man arrived during perhaps the tensest atmosphere he had known since Gellert was at the peak of his reign in Europe, but he would not take such a risk.

If Peverell was involved, Albus would only be handing him a weapon of great power and he would not do that.

Only time would tell what Peverell's intentions were, and if he was found to be in cahoots with this pureblood movement and had only saved Lady Bones to rid himself of suspicion, Albus would find out.

He would not sit idly by and watch Britain crumble until Millicent acknowledged that the country was under a severe threat.

(Break)