[Discontinued] When Shadows Collide, The Game Begins

Chapter Twenty Four

Harry had all but gone into shock after discovering the missing wand and—the slightly more pressing issue of—the missing headmaster. It took mere minutes before Sherlock, John, and Harry were piling into a police car. Lestrade turned on the sirens and sped through London, not taking his foot off the accelerator until he screeched to a stop outside of 221b. Everyone sprinted out and up into the flat, Harry summoning his trunk and all his potions things before making a tracking potion faster than he ever had before.

While it simmered, Sherlock and John grabbed all the maps they could find, laying them out all over the living room floor. Lestrade, after everything was explained to him very quickly, grabbed a ball of string and secured it to the light, allowing enough length for it to reach the floor of all four corners of the room. Then he threaded a needle and waited with everyone else until the potion was finished.

Even though he'd never attended a full lesson, Harry's potion skills were incredible. He credited the immense amount of chemistry he'd done as a child and the hours spent reading potion books. Harry had made a few adjustments to the tracking potion, not only making it faster to brew, but also to make the pin adjust every single time the headmaster moved, allowing a sort of GPS to be on him at all times. Harry also filled it with spells to override any anti-tracking spells that the headmaster might have thought of.

It took no more than half an hour before Harry was dipping the needle in the potion and casting a spell he'd made up to begin the tracking process. The needle swung around for a few moments before jerking violently to one corner of the room and firmly embedding itself in the paper of a map. Harry ran over to the map. Upon seeing where it was, he grabbed a more detailed map of the same area. The pin once again pierced the paper and Harry was able to see the exact address; Shieldhill Castle Hotel.

"Can you get us there?" he asked Professor McGonagall, wand clenched tightly in his hand. She came over and inspected the map before nodding and holding out her arm. "Lestrade and Sherlock," said Harry before grabbing his teacher's arm. Sherlock and Lestrade were quick to catch on and both grabbed McGonagall's other arm. The second they were secure, McGonagall turned on her heel and the four of them began squeezing through space before arriving at the gravel driveway of Shieldhill Castle.

"I don't have a warrant," said Lestrade before they entered the old castle.

"Yes you do," said McGonagall, flicking her wand. A piece of paper appeared in her hand and she gave it to a stunned looking Lestrade.

"Right then," he said, strolling towards the building, one hand on his badge, the other hovering over his gun. Harry raced after him, wand hidden in his pocket, but dozens of spells racing through his mind. Lestrade burst through the door into the lobby, startling the elderly receptionist. He brandished his badge and warrant before demanding to know who had entered in the past day.

The receptionist hurriedly gave Lestrade a key and the room number before everyone sprinted up the stairs. As they neared the hallway of Dumbledore's room, Harry cast a spell to detect wards and disabled every one he came across.

Once he was sure it was safe, Harry led the others silently across the hall, unlocking Dumbledore's door and opening it silently.

The headmaster was sitting in an armchair right in front of the door, a devilish smile on his face. With a flick of his wand, he disarmed Harry and laughed slightly when Harry's wand landed in his outstretched hand.

His laughter was cut short when Lestrade whipped out his taser and shot it at the headmaster. Dumbledore began shaking violently and slid off the chair onto the floor. Lestrade ran over, disarming the wizard and handcuffing him with the cuffs that both McGonagall and Harry had enchanted. Then McGonagall cast several more binding charms and stunned the professor.

"I feel like this isn't legal," said John from the back of the room.

"Special circumstances," replied Sherlock, helping Lestrade lift the limp headmaster. They turned to take him out of the room, but McGonagall stopped them, insisting that they dissaperate. No one looked too keen, but there were no verbal complaints as they linked hands and began twisting and squeezing through space once more.

This time, when Dumbledore was locked up in a cell, McGonagall and Harry were there with him, their wands trained on him, waiting for the arrangements to be made that would hopefully put him in court. Others came to keep an eye on him, trusted teachers and government officials taking shifts, Harry having to be practically dragged away when his dads told him he had to go home.

It took three days of paperwork and watching the headmaster to secure a court date. It was two weeks away.

Every day of that fortnight was spent in almost panic-inducing anxiety. Harry was terrified that Dumbledore would escape, or wouldn't be charged, or cast another spell and get Harry sent back to the Dursleys. He'd started having nightmares, what little he could remember of his aunt and uncle haunting his every resting moment. All thoughts of the Philosopher's Stone were pushed from his mind, replaced with him waking up in the middle of the night, terrified that he was back in the cupboard.

John and Sherlock would basically sit outside of his door, waiting for the inevitable screams before running in to comfort their son. It only got worse when Dumbledore reminded Harry of Fawn and Voldemort. His dreams soon became warped nightmares of a red-eyed Vernon Dudley standing over him while Fawn stood laughing in the corner, though they somehow appeared concerned at the same time.

On the fifth night of his nightmares, Harry finally gave up. Sleep left him exhausted and often terrified. When he was sure his dads had gone to bed, he slipped down to the kitchen and made himself a strong cup of coffee, slowly walking back to his room, sipping the steaming cup.

As he sat in his dark room, nothing but caffeine to keep him company, Harry began reading up on old wizard cases. Draco was able to post him dozens of files, all of them seemingly incomplete or missing important evidence that the suspect was even guilty. The more Harry read, the more doubt he had in the wizarding court system. Several people had gotten out of their sentences entirely by ratting out other people. Others hadn't even had trials, even though the evidence against them was minimal, lessened even more when you thought about magic.

Days passed with Harry barely leaving his room, in a caffeine-induced craze, trying to find a way to prove that without even a shadow of doubt, that Sirius Black was innocent, and that Dumbledore was completely guilty. It was proving quite a challenge, but on the morning of Dumbledore's trial, Harry sprinted from his room, a binder filled with hundreds of scribbled notes under his arm and proudly dropped it in front of Sherlock.

"I did it! Dumbledore's gonna be in prison for the rest of his life!" he exclaimed, before passing out on the carpet.

He woke up an hour or so later, John sitting beside him worriedly while Sherlock read the case against Dumbledore.

"The trial's in half an hour, so you better get changed," said John once he saw his son was awake. Harry nodded and stood up, slowly regaining balance and consciousness as he walked up to his room.

His suit was already out, hanging on the door of his wardrobe, his freshly shined shoes beside them. The thought of putting them on, going into court, and risking Dumbledore being freed made him sick to his stomach, but he forced the feeling down, deciding to deal with it later, and got changed, anxiously adjusting his tie before heading back downstairs.

John and Sherlock were waiting for him, and together the family walked together down onto the street and into a waiting taxi, all of them hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.