# When Magic Remembers
## Chapter 6: The Weight of Crowns
Harry knew something was wrong the moment they crested the hill overlooking Hogwarts. The valley below was dotted with dozens of makeshift camps—rough shelters of canvas and branches clustered around smoking cook fires. The orderly construction site they'd left behind had been transformed into something resembling a refugee settlement, with people and animals scattered across what had once been carefully planned work areas.
"Sweet Merlin," Rowena breathed beside him. "There must be hundreds of them."
As they descended toward the castle, the scope of the crisis became clear. These weren't just travelers seeking temporary shelter—these were families carrying everything they owned, elderly people who looked like they'd walked for days, children with the hollow eyes of those who'd seen too much. The northern exodus had begun in earnest.
"Harry! Rowena!" Helga's voice carried across the courtyard as they approached the gates. She hurried toward them, her usually immaculate robes stained with mud and what looked like blood. "Thank the gods you're back. We need every able wizard we can get."
"What's happened?" Harry asked, dismounting quickly.
"The northern defenses collapsed faster than anyone expected," Helga replied, leading them toward the castle at a brisk pace. "Three major settlements fell in the past week—Bamburgh, Hexham, and Carlisle. The survivors are fleeing south, and many of them are magical folk with nowhere else to go."
They passed through the gates and into chaos. The courtyard was packed with people and their possessions—rolled blankets, cooking pots, children clutching worn dolls. A group of older wizards huddled around a magical fire, their faces grim as they discussed what they'd seen. Near the castle entrance, Godric was organizing younger men into what appeared to be patrol groups.
"Where's Salazar?" Rowena asked.
Helga's expression darkened slightly. "In the dungeons, working on what he calls 'enhanced interrogation methods' for the refugees. He's convinced some of them might be spies or thralls in disguise."
Harry felt a chill that had nothing to do with the October air. "Interrogation methods?"
"Nothing harmful," Helga said quickly, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. "Just… thorough. He's using some form of mind magic to verify their identities and scan for magical corruption. But the process is… intense."
They found Salazar in a chamber deep beneath the castle, one that Harry hadn't seen during his previous explorations. The walls were carved with symbols that seemed to writhe in the flickering torchlight, and the air thrummed with a low-level magical resonance that made Harry's teeth ache. In the center of the room, a middle-aged man sat in a chair surrounded by floating silver threads that connected to similar threads wrapped around Salazar's fingers.
"Fascinating," Salazar murmured, his pale eyes fixed on something only he could see. "Your memories of Hexham's fall are quite vivid. The thralls moved in perfect coordination, you say? And their eyes… yes, I can see them clearly. No intelligence behind them, just hunger and malevolent purpose."
The man in the chair whimpered softly, his face pale with sweat. The silver threads pulsed with each beat of his heart, and Harry could see tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Salazar," Rowena said sharply. "What exactly are you doing to this man?"
"Learning," Salazar replied without looking up. "This refugee witnessed the fall of one of the northern strongholds. His memories contain valuable intelligence about Herpo's methods and capabilities. I'm simply… extracting that information for analysis."
"You're torturing him," Harry said flatly.
Now Salazar did look up, his expression genuinely puzzled. "Torture? Hardly. I'm reading his memories with perfect precision and minimal physical discomfort. The emotional distress is simply an inevitable side effect of reliving traumatic experiences."
"The emotional distress is what makes it torture," Rowena snapped. "Release him. Now."
For a moment, Harry thought Salazar might refuse. The pale wizard's eyes flashed with something that might have been anger or frustration. But then he gestured, and the silver threads dissolved like smoke.
The refugee collapsed forward, sobbing with relief. Harry moved quickly to help him stand, noting the way the man flinched away from Salazar as if from a striking snake.
"I learned what we needed to know," Salazar said defensively. "Herpo's forces are moving faster than we anticipated, and they're using tactics we haven't seen before. Surely that information is worth some temporary discomfort."
"Not like this," Helga said firmly, appearing in the doorway with several other wizards behind her. "We don't treat people—any people—as objects to be used for our convenience."
"Even when those people's knowledge could save hundreds of lives?"
"Especially then," Godric said, pushing past the others into the chamber. His hand rested on his sword hilt, and his usual jovial demeanor was nowhere in evidence. "When we start sacrificing our principles for expedience, we've already lost what we're fighting to protect."
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Harry found himself looking at each of the founders in turn, seeing the philosophical divisions that would eventually tear them apart playing out in real time. Salazar genuinely believed his methods were justified by their necessity. The others were equally convinced that some lines should never be crossed, regardless of the consequences.
"Perhaps," Harry said carefully, "we could continue this discussion upstairs? This man needs medical attention and rest, not an audience for our debates."
It took several more minutes to sort out the immediate situation. The refugee was taken to Helga's makeshift infirmary, where she began treating him for exhaustion and the aftereffects of Salazar's memory extraction. The other refugees were reassured that they wouldn't be subjected to similar procedures. And the founders gathered in what would eventually become the headmaster's office to discuss what Salazar had learned.
"The thralls are just the beginning," Salazar reported, consulting notes he'd taken during his interrogation. "Herpo has been building something in the far north—some kind of massive ritual site. The refugees speak of a tower that seems to exist partially outside normal space, where screams can be heard from miles away."
"What kind of ritual requires a tower like that?" Rowena asked.
"Nothing good," Harry said grimly, thinking of the dark magic he'd encountered in his own time. "Anything that requires screams usually involves soul magic or blood sacrifice on a massive scale."
"My thoughts exactly," Salazar agreed. "But whatever he's building, it's not complete yet. The refugee's memories suggest Herpo is gathering specific magical artifacts—items of power that have been scattered across Britain since the Roman withdrawal."
Godric frowned. "What kind of artifacts?"
"Unclear. But the pattern suggests he's collecting components for something that will require enormous amounts of power to activate. A weapon, perhaps, or a mass enchantment of some kind."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. In his own time, he'd seen what happened when dark wizards tried to gather objects of power for massive rituals. The results were never good for anyone except the dark wizard in question.
"How long do we have?" Helga asked.
"Based on the rate at which his influence is spreading, I'd estimate perhaps two months before his forces reach this region directly. But his magical influence is already closer than that—some of the refugees report nightmares that feel too real, animals behaving strangely, plants withering without cause."
"Then we need to accelerate our own preparations," Rowena said. "The network project becomes even more critical. If we can connect the remaining safe havens before Herpo completes whatever he's building…"
Harry thought of his conversation with Morgana, of the price that would be required to make the network function. Two weeks until the new moon, until the ritual that would bind him to every connected site. Would it be enough time to establish even the basic framework they'd need?
"There's something else," Salazar said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "The refugees spoke of others who fled south before them—magical folk who seemed… changed. Corrupted. They appeared normal at first glance, but their magic felt wrong, tainted. Some of them have been asking pointed questions about southern defenses, about places where magical communities might be gathering."
"Spies," Godric said grimly.
"Or worse. Sleeper agents, perhaps, carrying Herpo's influence without even realizing it. The corruption could be spreading through seemingly innocent contact."
The implications of that were staggering. If Herpo had found a way to corrupt people without their knowledge, to turn them into unwitting agents of his will, then nowhere was truly safe. Anyone could be compromised. Trust became not just difficult but potentially fatal.
"We need better screening methods," Rowena said. "Some way to detect magical corruption that doesn't involve…" She glanced meaningfully at Salazar. "Invasive procedures."
"I could develop something," Harry offered, thinking of the detection spells he'd learned during the war against Voldemort. "It would take time, but there are techniques for identifying dark magic corruption that don't require direct mental contact."
"How much time?" Helga asked.
"A few days, if I can adapt existing methods to detect this specific type of corruption." Harry paused, considering. "But I'd need to examine someone who's definitely been affected, to understand what we're looking for."
"That can be arranged," Salazar said. "I've been keeping several of the more suspicious refugees under discrete observation. If your detection methods prove more… palatable… than mine, I'd be happy to assist."
It was a olive branch of sorts, an acknowledgment that his methods had been too harsh while offering to help find better alternatives. Harry nodded acceptance, even as he wondered what other compromises they'd all be making before this was over.
The meeting broke up with assignments for everyone. Godric would organize the refugees into defensive units and train them in basic combat magic. Helga would continue managing the medical and logistical challenges of housing hundreds of displaced people. Rowena would work on magical defenses for the castle itself. Salazar would research counter-measures for the types of corruption they were seeing.
And Harry would develop detection methods while secretly preparing for a ritual that would fundamentally alter his existence.
No pressure at all.
Over the following days, Harry threw himself into the work with an intensity that surprised even him. Part of it was genuine necessity—the detection spells were crucial for protecting everyone at Hogwarts. But part of it was also avoidance. Every conversation with the founders reminded him of what he was planning to do, and what he wasn't telling them about it.
The detection spells came together faster than he'd expected. By combining techniques he'd learned from both his Auror training and his time at Grimmauld Place, he was able to create a method for identifying magical corruption that required only brief contact and left the subject completely unharmed. When he demonstrated it for the others, using one of Salazar's suspected infiltrators as a test case, the results were immediate and disturbing.
The refugee in question appeared completely normal to visual inspection, but Harry's spell revealed threads of dark magic woven through his magical signature like black veins through marble. The corruption wasn't controlling him—yet—but it was definitely there, growing stronger with each passing day.
"Remarkable work," Salazar said, studying the magical display with professional interest. "This corruption is far subtler than anything I detected with my methods. It's designed to remain dormant until activated by some external trigger."
"Which means Herpo could potentially activate every corrupted refugee simultaneously," Rowena realized. "Turn them all into weapons at once."
"Or worse," Harry said grimly. "Use them as conduits for his power, spreading his influence instantaneously across every settlement where they've found shelter."
The implications were terrifying. Hundreds of refugees had fled south over the past week, scattering to magical communities across Scotland and northern England. If even a fraction of them carried this dormant corruption, Herpo could potentially bypass every defense they'd built and strike directly at the heart of the southern kingdoms.
"We need to warn people," Helga said. "Send messages to every magical settlement, tell them what to look for."
"And cause a panic that turns refugee against refugee?" Godric asked. "These people have already lost everything. If we tell them that some of their number might be unknowingly corrupted, it could tear apart the very communities we're trying to protect."
It was the same kind of impossible choice that had defined Harry's entire life—between competing goods, between necessary evils, between saving people who could be saved and sacrificing those who might already be lost.
"There might be another way," he said slowly. "If the network project succeeds, if we can connect the major safe havens, we could use the connections to monitor for corruption. Detect it before it becomes active and deal with it quietly."
"That assumes the network will work as intended," Rowena pointed out. "And that we can establish it before Herpo activates whatever trigger mechanism he's built into the corruption."
"How long until the new moon?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Ten days," Salazar replied. "Barely enough time to prepare a ritual of that complexity, even with Morgana's guidance."
Ten days to finish preparing the most dangerous magical working any of them had ever attempted. Ten days to establish detection protocols for hundreds of potentially corrupted refugees. Ten days to build defenses that might have to hold against an enemy who could strike from within as well as without.
And through it all, Harry carried the weight of knowing that the success of everything they were building would ultimately depend on his willingness to sacrifice his individual existence for the greater good.
Some things, he reflected, never changed.
That evening, as he sat in his chamber reviewing notes on the network ritual, Harry was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He opened it to find Helga standing in the corridor, her face etched with concern.
"May I come in?" she asked. "There's something I need to discuss with you."
Harry stepped aside to let her enter, noting the way her eyes immediately went to the papers scattered across his desk. Most of them were written in parseltongue script—something he'd started doing automatically to keep his notes private.
"Interesting writing system," Helga observed. "I don't recognize the symbols."
"It's… a very old form of notation," Harry said carefully. "Useful for recording certain types of magical theory."
Helga nodded, but he could see she wasn't entirely convinced. "Harry, I'm going to ask you a direct question, and I hope you'll give me an honest answer. What exactly did you learn at Morgana's grove? What aren't you telling us about this network ritual?"
Harry felt his stomach clench. Of all the founders, Helga was the most perceptive when it came to reading people. Her combination of emotional intelligence and genuine concern made her nearly impossible to lie to effectively.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you've been acting like a man preparing for his own funeral ever since you returned. You throw yourself into work with desperate intensity, you avoid eye contact during discussions of the ritual, and you've started writing your notes in a script that conveniently prevents the rest of us from understanding them." Her brown eyes fixed on his with gentle but implacable determination. "What price did Morgana say the network would require?"
For a moment, Harry considered maintaining the deception. But looking at Helga's concerned face, thinking of her genuine kindness and unwavering loyalty, he found he couldn't do it.
"The ritual requires a living conduit," he said quietly. "Someone to serve as the central anchor point for all the connections. That person's life force becomes bound to every connected site, sustaining the network but also making them vulnerable to corruption or destruction if any site falls to darkness."
Helga's face went pale. "And you volunteered for this role."
"I'm the only one who can do it safely. The… experiences I've had, the ways my magic has been shaped by contact with dark forces, they make me uniquely suited to survive the binding process."
"Or they make you uniquely vulnerable to corruption if something goes wrong," Helga countered. "Harry, you can't seriously be considering this."
"I've already decided. The ritual happens in ten days, whether the others know the full cost or not."
Helga was quiet for a long moment, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but filled with steel.
"Then you're not doing it alone. If you insist on this course of action, the rest of us deserve to know what we're asking of you. We deserve the chance to find another way, or to share the burden if no other way exists."
"Helga—"
"No." She stood, her maternal warmth replaced by the kind of quiet authority that would one day make her house famous for loyalty and determination. "I won't be party to a plan that requires deceiving my friends and sacrificing one of our own. Either we face this challenge together, honestly, or we don't face it at all."
She moved toward the door, then paused. "I'm calling a full meeting for tomorrow morning. You can tell them yourself, or I will. But either way, they're going to know the truth."
After she left, Harry sat staring at his notes for a long time. He'd known the deception couldn't last forever, but he'd hoped to have the ritual completed before the others learned what it would cost. Now he'd have to face their objections, their attempts to find alternatives, their insistence on sharing risks that were his alone to bear.
But as he thought about it, Harry realized that Helga was right. These people had become his friends, his partners in building something extraordinary. They deserved honesty, even if that honesty complicated everything.
And perhaps, just perhaps, four of the most brilliant magical minds in history might be able to find a solution that hadn't occurred to him.
It was worth hoping for, anyway.
Outside his window, the refugee camps glowed with the light of hundreds of cook fires, a constellation of human resilience in the face of unimaginable loss. In ten days, the new moon would rise, and Harry would either bind himself to an ancient network of power or watch everything they'd built crumble before Herpo's advancing darkness.
But tonight, for the first time since returning from Morgana's grove, he didn't feel like he was facing that choice alone.
Sometimes, Harry reflected, the hardest part of leadership wasn't making difficult decisions—it was trusting other people to help you make them.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new arguments, and probably new complications he hadn't anticipated. But it would also bring the combined wisdom and determination of four extraordinary people who had already proven they could accomplish the impossible when they worked together.
That had to be enough.
It had to be.
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*Author's Note: Chapter 6 escalates the external pressure while deepening the internal conflicts among the founders. The refugee crisis forces them to confront immediate moral dilemmas—Salazar's harsh interrogation methods versus the others' ethical concerns—while Harry's deception about the network ritual creates personal tension with Helga.*
*The discovery of dormant corruption in the refugees adds another layer of threat, showing how Herpo's influence is already infiltrating their defenses. Harry's detection spells provide a solution while demonstrating his unique value to the group.*
*Helga's confrontation with Harry about his planned sacrifice sets up the dramatic revelation that will drive the next chapter, while showing her characteristic combination of emotional intelligence and moral steel.*
*The chapter balances action and character development, advancing multiple plot threads while deepening our understanding of each founder's personality and principles.*
*Next chapter: "Truth and Consequences" - Harry reveals the true cost of the network ritual to the founders, leading to intense debate about alternatives and what they're willing to sacrifice for victory.*