Fudge had spent a difficult day fighting off a swarm of memos from Scrimgeour. He had been at work since 8 o’clock, it was 4 in the afternoon now, and the Investigation Board was scheduled to meet in one hour. That meeting will run late into the evening. The frustration the entire board felt was weighing heavily on all the members, and there was a growing sentiment within the wizarding community, and especially from the former Werewolves, that nothing at all should be done. Few could blame them, given the shunned life they had led. Remus Lupin had written to the board, as had many other Werewolves, expressing their opinion that the phenomena was good and that the board was just “rocking the boat.” Or as another former Werewolf expressed: “It ain’t broken so don’t go trying to fix it.”
Taking a short break from work before the investigation board met, Fudge purchased a calorie-laden sweet and walked around the hallways for a few minutes. There were still many empty cubes, cubes that had been filled the year before. So many dead. How many did my actions cause? Arthur Weasley walked by him, on his way home, I’ll wager. The nod he gave Fudge was perfunctory, at best. Losing two sons in the war and a third from an inexperienced Auror’s tragic mistake had been tough on Arthur. Fudge suspected Arthur blamed his own initial lack of support of Dumbledore for Bill and Charlie’s deaths. And maybe he is right.
Entering the meeting room a short while later, Fudge saw the usual members standing and talking among themselves. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing at the far end of the room; noticing Fudge walk in he approached and handed him a letter-sized envelope telling Fudge to examine the contents before the meeting got underway. Then the tall, black Auror departed.
Fudge was immediately curious about what would cause Shacklebolt to be so mysterious and then leave with no explanation. After greeting a few of the members, Fudge sat, opened the envelope, and found a letter paper-clipped to a thin stack of plain white paper.
Mr. Shacklebolt & Mr. Fudge,
We thought you might like to see these photocopies. A few days ago, when we were cleaning out Peter’s room, we came across a journal he was keeping as part of a holiday assignment. Tom and I read the book together, but when we reached the last few entries we saw a familiar name, Percy Weasley.
Apparently Peter had been meeting Weasley in the woods and was being told a story about magicians and magic. You will see for yourself, Peter did not really understand what he was learning. A number of times he makes reference to a story in runes, whatever that means. He also mentions a few times about wands, silver threads, and memories about Merlin.
I don’t know if this will help you, but here it is.
Gerry and Tom Martin
Fudge took a few minutes, even as the meeting was starting, to glance through the copied pages of Peter’s journal. As the stenographer was reading back some notes from the prior meeting, Fudge interrupted and asked the Chairman’s permission to speak.
“Excuse me, Bob, but I have just been handed a note and pages from a young man’s journal that may help us.” Fudge motioned for the committee to wait a moment as he looked over to the box of records from St. Mungo’s. After a brief search, Fudge found what he was looking for.
“I want to show you three things that could be of significance. First is this letter from the parents of a Muggle lad who is at St. Mungo’s. The boy was critically injured the evening of September 19th when an Auror hit him with a disarming spell. The Auror had failed to recognize a memory transfer taking place between the boy and a former aid of mine, Percy Weasley.”
“That’s Arthur’s son, isn’t it Cornelius?” An elderly wizard asked.
“Yes, he is. He is also at St. Mungo’s, with this other lad.”
“In the hospital? They should both be dead!” This time it was a woman about Fudge’s age asking the question.
“Yes, precisely. There has never been a recorded case where a memory transfer was interrupted and the two wizards lived. Both boys are in extremely critical condition and require twenty-four hour care. But as I mentioned a moment ago, the boy is a Muggle, this may be part of the reason he...Peter...has survived.”
“When Peter’s parents went through his belongings a few days ago they found a journal Peter had kept; they copied a few pages and sent them to me. A few of the later pages mention Percy Weasley transfering to Peter memories about the story of Merlin, known to us as ‘The Story In The Runes.’”
“Good grief, Cornelius, That hasn’t happened in centuries, perhaps even since Merlin’s time.”
Fudge knew his face showed confusion, he had no knowledge of the history of memory transfers other than not to interrupt them. “I don’t follow you, Marvin.”
But instead of Marvin answering Fudge’s question, a short, plump witch with abnormally curly hair raised her hand to speak. “Madame Tumult?” The Chairman from Oxford, Robert Matthews, pointed his gavel at the witch. “Do you have something to add?”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman. First, I would like to ask Mr. Fudge if he has a record of when this accident occurred.”
Fudge looked at the notes from St. Mungo’s. “It appears that the accident was first recorded on the evening of September 19, at seven thirty-one. And here, the initial examination and interview with the Aurors involved says the incident occurred about three minutes before they arrived at the hospital, that would make it seven twenty-eight.” Fudge suddenly realized why the witch was so interested in the time records.
“Mr. Fudge, Mr. Chairperson, if I may.” The witch stood, walked to a blackboard, and waved her wand. A timeline appeared on the board; it ran from 300 to 500 A.D., with many small notes pointing to different years. “I hope my idea is correct, it has been many years since I had tried to prove this theory.”
“About seventy-five years ago, when I had just finished at Hogwarts, a small group of my classmates and I took part in an internship in the Ministry of Magic’s Historical Archives. A number of us had a desire to proceed with further education in Runes and Ancient Texts. You see, the History of Magic instructor at Hogwarts was a lively and energetic wizard who impressed upon us to “always look for the source of every legend, until you could prove it or disprove it.” So we wanted to be where the stories and legends began; with Merlin.”
Tapping the board with her wand, the first box of text expanded so that all could read it. “You see here? This is where our famous ‘Story In The Runes’ begins, about 305 A. D. The scraps of texts which remain identify Merlin as a young boy: ‘The Boy In The Woods.’ I’m sure you all remember this from your childhood bedtime stories.”
“The next three stories,” the witch again tapped the board and the next box expanded while the first shrank, “deal with Merlin becoming a man and starting the creation of the world of magic. Much of the forth story, if I remember correctly, dealt with Merlin trying to recruit people for his world, luring them into it with exotic animals and dragons, those such things.” Fudge saw a number of heads bobbing up and down. Taking his seat again, he also listened to more of Tumult’s story.
“Book five was the first to have any substantial primary sources to back up its claims, so the four of us decided to search for information regarding the fragments from the first four stories. At that time all the archived texts and runes were kept here, in the Ministry building, in that cold, damp room at the base of this building. The conditions for storing delicate parchment and papyrus were abysmal; many of the documents had rotted or become covered with molds. It was a disgrace.”
“Amalyn Tumult, my second cousin, came to the ministry at my request to try to fix the terrible conditions in our basement. Amalyn studied up in the work and performed a number of spells to close cracks in the walls and dry out the rooms. She even tried to clean some of the texts thought to be ruined with mildew. Her efforts met with little success, but she was given a parchment rune document and two Latin scrolls, believed to be of little historical consequence, so she could continue her restoration research.”
“A few years later, long after my friends and I had finished a fruitless search into Merlin’s past, my cousin contacted me by owl. She had been living in Egypt for three years and said she had never given up on her attempts to clean the ruined documents; in fact, she had been able to clean off one of the parchments using a temporal process she learned from an Egyptian wizard.”
“Plato Sumar?” The Chairperson had jumped up with an amazed look on his face. “She met Plato Sumar in Egypt?”
“Yes. She had met him while studying curses in the pyramids of Giza.”
Before Tumult could continue, the Chairman spoke up again. “You all must have heard about Plato Sumar, Tumult and I can’t be the only ones who know what he did!”
“No, Matthews, the story was not widespread and was actually suppressed in the 1920’s. In fact, how do you know about it?”
“I worked in the Department of Magical Mysteries until a few years ago.” Matthews answered, “I was even allowed to study one of the last remaining time turners. Remarkable devices they were, but I suppose it is better that they are now all gone.”
While Tumult and Matthews were talking, Fudge was wondering how this all fit into the letter from the Martin’s. “Excuse me, Madam Tumult, I don’t wish to be rude, but how does all this fit together?”
“Yes, I do apologize Cornelius. It has been a long time since I was excited about this subject. Let me go back to my story, it will help you, all of you, understand.”
“As I was saying, my cousin met Sumar and one of his friends in Giza. At the time Sumar was studying trace magic, the science of recognizing the presence of magic long after it had been used. Since most of you don’t know who Sumar was, you probably don’t know who was with him in Egypt.” The blank looks on all their faces, except Matthews’, told the witch she was correct. “Sumar’s friend was the late Albus Dumbledore. Albus, God rest his soul, had been doing parallel research into trace magic when he quite literally ran into Sumar in Cairo, around 1921, I believe it was. They had known each other by reputation so recognition was not a problem. After a few days together the two became fast friends and spent the next two years collaborating in their research.”
“The two men traveled around the Middle East before stumbling upon an ancient reference to a hermit who lived in a mountain on the Sinai Peninsula. Out of simple curiosity they traveled to the mountain and, following a lengthy search, came across a well hidden cave that had been lived in many thousands of years ago. While they had started on this trip as an adventure, they both immediately knew that they had stumbled upon what they had spent years looking for: an identifiable bit of trace magic.”
“The cave they discovered radiated magic. There were ancient curses that had almost faded, and it was a good thing, too. Many of them were terrible, terrible curses that would slowly eat your body and mind over years. Both men feared what they had found so much that they seriously discussed destroying the cave and any remaining curses it held. Albus almost left Sumar over Sumar’s insistence on keeping the cave and its wards intact. How else could they find another such site?”
“As the two of them became attuned to the remnants of the cave’s magic they came to realize that the being that had inhabited the cave must have had extraordinary powers, and lived for a very long time. Not hundreds of years, most likely thousands of years. Again Albus pleaded with Sumar to consider abandoning his search, and again Albus gave in to his friend. But he did extract a promise from Sumar to leave the mountain within a month.”
“By the time the two wizards had left the peninsula, Samar and Albus were both accomplished at sensing trace magic, or at least very powerful trace magic. They traveled back toward Cairo, following what appeared to be the path of the being from the cave. They followed it through Cairo, Alexandria, down to Luxor, Aswan, and finally to Abu Sunbul where the trail ended as if the being had fallen from the sky. The traces, however, did not show a single spot of origin but rather a large area of diffuse traces. And this is where their journey together ended. Albus was interested in returning to England and Sumar was going to remain in Abu Sunbul. The friends parted on good terms but never saw each other again. Sumar passed away in 1934, but not before he spent time with my cousin Amalyn.”
“Amalyn, like Albus Dumbledore, met Sumar by accident, but neither had heard of the other. While studying some ancient curses in the pyramids at Giza, Amalyn made an off-hand comment about how she wished she could see what the hieroglyphs looked like when first carved. Sumar was working nearby and when he heard the comment struck up a conversation with her. One thing led to another and they were soon sharing stories about their adventures. Sumar had immediately recognized Amalyn as a witch and she pestered Sumar to tell her how he knew, and he did, partially divulging his secrets of trace magic.”
“After a few months at the pyramids, Amalyn was planning to travel to Qum to do a comparative study on some ancient symbols that had recently been unearthed. At their parting dinner, Amalyn casually mentioned to Sumar her frustration with that same parchment I talked about a while ago.”
Tumult stopped here for a moment to see if she was putting anyone to sleep. She really had not intended the story to carry on like this but everyone’s eyes were clear and seemed to be eager to find out how the stories fit together.
“Well, Sumar asked to see a sample of the damaged documents so Amalyn pulled it out and showed it to the old wizard. Sumar handed it back and told my cousin that he could help her after dinner. When the meal ended they went back to Sumar’s office where he took the parchment and laid it on his desk. Amalyn told me this next part in great detail because she didn’t understand its significance at the time. She said Sumar went into a double locked cabinet and removed a bowl of sand about the size of a child’s toy pail. He then took a handful of the sand and sprinkled it over the parchment as evenly as he could. After this he took out his watch and waited for thirty seconds. When the time was up, he took the paper, partially folding it unto a ‘U’ shape, and poured the sand back into the bowl and returned it to the locked cabinet. Holding the parchment up to Amalyn she saw that whatever Sumar had done had completely restored the parchment.”
“Now Matthews, do you know what Sumar did?”
An expression of amazement was on the Chairman’s face; he looked like the answer he had been searching for had been revealed, for indeed it had. “Sumar discovered the secret of time. The sand must be the same sand that we had in our time turners. But do you know where he found it?” Matthews’ eager expression quickly faded when he saw Madam Tumult’s face.
“No, I’m afraid Sumar shared that little secret with no one. It was the last time my cousin saw Sumar even though they both spent the rest of their lives in the same area. Personally I do have a theory. I believe there is a link to that village in Egypt, Abu Sunbul, and the sand. It was the spot where the cave being originated thousands of years before. It seems logical to me, but I never had the desire to pursue that theory.”
“So, finally I have returned to that old moldy document and why I started this story. Amalyn owled me a copy of that parchment and I spent a good number of years trying to find what it meant. It was written in runes and I had long forgotten how to translate them. I searched through the Ministry, off and on, for a few months before running into a wonderful gentleman by the name of Keric Albemarle. Keric had studied runes for years and was able to show me why I could not decipher the bloody thing. The runes were arranged in a most unusual pattern and unless we could find the key, or the starting point in the document, we might look at it for years and see nothing but rubbish.”
“A few years later, having long given up on translating the parchment, I received an owl from Albemarle stating that he had found the key and would I be interested in seeing the translation. I must admit, after all these years I had again lost interest. But I also thought that if the translation contained something of importance Albemarle would have announced his findings. Still, I owed than pleasant old man the courtesy of hearing his story. I owled back and informed him that I would make myself available whenever he had time; a few days later I was again in his office looking over the translation.”
“The text carried no immediate indication that it was anything other than a rambling account of how oral tradition passed stories from one generation to the next. There were a few scattered references to magic, but it was all vanilla. The parchment itself had been dated at approximately fifteen hundred years old and the runes bore out this age. Please keep this in mind, it has an important link to a later part of this story. After thanking Keric for his persistence I kept a copy of the translation and placed it in a file, and that’s where it sits today.”
As she prepared to resume she noticed that Minister Scrimgeour enter and seat himself at the back of the room. Madam Tumult sat in her chair and looked around the room again; she knew the members were waiting for the reason she had shared the story. Wanting to make her thoughts clear, Tumult asked for their indulgence as she gathered her thoughts. After a brief pause, the witch excused herself and walked to the first secretary desk she saw and sent an owl to her husband with a request. Returning to the nearly silent room she added the last part of her story.
“Today, when Cornelius told me about Percy Weasley and the Muggle boy, I remembered a portion of that parchment. I’ve just owled my husband asking him to find the translation and send it here express. While I’m waiting for that, let me tell you what I can recall.”
“A small section of the story on the parchment dealt with a memory charm and what methods were used to help people memorize stories. The author also spoke of ‘transfering memories’ and conflicts of some sort.”
A ministry owl landed at the desk where Tumult had recently sent her husband the note. The secretary removed the note and took it to the room, handing it toTumult. “Ah! Here it is, thank heavens Homer was not asleep. Let me look at this for a momnet, please.” Scanning the translation, the witch was seen to nod her head a few times; then setting the translation down she continued.
“Please listen to these passages, I believe they might shed some light on our research.” Leaving the paper on the conference table, Tumult found the first passage she was looking for and began reading.
“...looking for the missing books, the elders approached the wizard to see if he knew anything. His refusal to speak was disturbing and the elders forbade the people from taking the charm.”
“Then, near the end of the page, I found what I was looking for.”
“The wizard again tried to force himself upon many villagers but this only turned more against him. He pleaded with them and offered great rewards, but the elders knew his promises were empty and again forbid the people from leaving. In his rage, the wizard sent out strings of gold, capturing many and forcing them to his will. The warrior, Galen, went to his father and threw him on the ground, breaking the bindings and killing the old wizard. Those who had been captured were thought to be dead, and many were. Others had fallen into a deep sleep and Galen was the only one who could bring them back.”
Tumult removed her half-glasses and set them on the table. “A few weeks after I found out about this translation I approached the Ministry and ask permission to begin a formal investigation of this document. I presented my theories and I believed I had given sufficient information to warrant a more professional and thorough look into its meaning. But my proposal was rejected, twice, actually.”
The Chairman again broke in, “Why is this the first we’ve heard of any of this, Tumult?”
“Because it was deemed to be sacrilegious.” Scrimgeour’s voice echoed from the back of the room. All eyes turned to the Minister, almost no one had heard or seen him enter. “Madam Tumult, you will bring that document and come to my office immediately. The committed is adjourned for the day and you are all cautioned to forget what you just heard.”
Fudge lingered in the conference room after all the other members had departed. He picked up the copied journal entries and finished reading the last two entries.
Thursday, 17 September 1998
Percy was upset today, he told me about why his brothers
died and how he was too scared to help them. I told him it
was ok but he said that he could not face his family and that
he was a coward. He listened to me when I talked about
Jack dying, it was hard to talk about that but I felt better
afterwards.
Friday, 18 September 1998
School stinks, I can’t wait to see Percy tomorrow, he
Promised to tell me more of the runes story.
The next day, Fudge recalled, was when the phenomena started, and Tumult had an idea that there was some sort of link between her translation and the events of 9/19. The timing was exact, though there were a few other records of magic occurring at 7:28. What was that last part about golden threads and a son killing his father?
Fudge remained seated, thinking, for another quarter-hour. There was one mystery solved by the journal that he believed he should convey. Returning to his office, Fudge wrote a brief note to Arthur Weasley asking for a few minutes to speak about some information he had come across concerning Percy. Not knowing if this was the sort of information he should deliver, Fudge considered the note for a few minute but ultimately decided that he was correct in sending it. Folding the memo he tapped it with his wand and sent it on its way with the address, “Arthur Weasley, office 291.” A minute later Fudge received an auto-reply stating: “I will be out of the office until 28 December. Please contact Jason Freely if you have an urgent issue.”