HP: A Magical Journey

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Quinn stood inside Flourish and Blotts’ inner corner, where all the ‘boring’ books sat away from the popular products that made the store money. But to Quinn, the newest batch of research journals was why he liked to visit bookstores regularly. As long as he could apparate to it, he wanted to go on his own— be it books or materials— where he couldn’t, he had people scouring for the latest.

It was a peaceful time as he slowly flipped through the research paper titles and abstracts. It was the middle of a Tuesday with everyone working their jobs in their place of work. There weren’t Hogwarts students plugging up the bookstore as they would before the start of the year. So Quinn could calmly browse the catalog without any unnecessary and unneeded disruption.

“Mr. West. . .”

The edge of the paper slipped from Quinn’s hand as he turned his head towards the person who had called his name. He turned back to his book and groaned as he slowly closed the journal and returned it to the shelf.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “It’s like every time I go out, one of you people comes finding me when I’m looking to relax.” He looked around, “Is there someone following me around? I’m not a media celebrity, you know— I’m not supposed to be recognized in public, neither am I supposed to be followed around. . .”

After he had graduated, he had run into Saul Croaker, Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, and Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of DMLE. He had even met with Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic, but that was because of his own actions. And now he was meeting Albus Dumbledore, the Head of the Order of Phoenix.

He turned to his ex-Headmaster to ask, “So, what gives, Professor? Should I travel in stealth now? If people want to meet me, they can always set up appointments with my secretary.”

“You have a secretary?”

“No, I do not.”

“Then. . .”

“Exactly. You get it,” Quinn said with a straight face before sighing. “What is it that I can do for you today, Professor.”

“It would be better if we talk in private.”

Quinn observed Dumbledore with a critical eye, blatantly not hiding his doubt regarding this private invitation. Dumbledore didn’t reveal his intention, silently insisting that it was a matter not to be discussed in public. After a few seconds of staredown, Quinn shrugged and decided to tag along with Dumbledore, who led him to a small tea shop on the secondary street of Vertic Alley.

When they entered, Dumbledore nodded to the man on the counter. Quinn stopped at the counter, shook the man’s hand and asked for his name, and created the man’s profile in his mind, adding the ‘possible Order of Phoenix’ tag to it.

They sat down on the innermost table in the corner of the petite shop. After receiving what they had ordered, the two men finally got to talking.

“Can we talk now, Professor?” asked Quinn, sipping on his lemonade.

Dumbledore raised his hand and slowly swiped it in the air for a cover of magic to envelop them. Quinn narrowed his eyes at the magic to find it to be a privacy ward, a strong one at that.

He looked back at Dumbledore with a quirked brow, “Alright, you have colored me curious. What warrants so much cloak-and-dagger?”

Dumbledore reached into his robes and placed a small vial that could be comfortably held between the index finger and thumb on the middle of the table.

“What is that?” asked Quinn, eyeing the reddish-pink substance inside. He was about to crack a joke when he noticed the serious look in Dumbledore’s usually smiling eyes. “What is it?”

“This is the composite used as the catalyst in the ward that surrounded the Goblet of Fire in the Great Hall,” the moment the words exited Dumbledore’s words, Quinn’s Occlumency kicked in as he manually controlled, but he kicked himself in the head as for a split second all emotion drained from his face. “You remember this, correct. We talked about it that year when I was trying to find the caster. . . . I wasn’t able to find them back then. . . but I finally found them now. . .”

Quinn silently stared at Dumbledore. He had become excessively cautious for a moment, but as he thought about it, he calmed down. The Tri-wizard tournament was a long time ago, and it wasn’t like he had done anything wrong— if protecting his friends was wrong, then he was fine paying for that violation.

“Oh? Who is it? Are they still in Hogwarts? That’d be mighty impressive if they are.”

Dumbledore stared deep into Quinn’s eyes as he continued, “I was in the meeting with the Minister of Magic; we were discussing the Invisible Vigilante’s latest. . .”

Quinn’s heart skipped a beat.

“. . . and he had sent the Ministry a message in the form of light and illusion magic spelled into a small black stout cylindrical object. . . and imagine my surprise that when I by chance tried to compare the magical signatures on that and this,” he pointed to the vial, “they were a near-perfect match. . . . Invisible Vigilante was the person I had been looking for all these years.”

“Oh?”

Dumbledore leaned forward, and the shop went eerily quiet; it was as if the ambient noise had been sucked up, leaving a sound vacuum. “Don’t pretend to be clueless. I had long confirmed that this chalk dust was yours; there was no reason for me to bring it up— but I tested the two things for some remote intuition that I wasn’t thinking would be true. . . and to my surprise, they matched.

I had found the Invisible Vigilante’s hidden identity. . . it was you all along. You, Quinn West, was. . . are the Invisible Vigilante.”

Quinn studied Dumbledore’s face for a moment before he straightened up, and all fabricated emotion drained from his face. The old Headmaster had made up his mind, and no matter what Quinn said wasn’t going to change his mind, so why bother pretending.

“Magical signatures can’t be used in the court of law because of the unreliability issues associated with the method,” said Quinn in a plain voice. Magical signatures were actively used by DMLE to narrow the list of suspects and focus their efforts in the right direction, but the findings couldn’t be used in front of a judge. . . and a Wizengamot jury.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Mr. West,” Dumbledore’s steady tone had gained a terse quality. “I do not make mistakes. Especially when it comes to this.”

“You can’t prove it was me, Professor. No one can.”

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, looking at Quinn with still unbelievable eyes. “How could I not see this before. There were a few signs here and there. The advanced water magic that year at the Great Lake and the Invisible Vigilante’s penchant to use Ice magic and the aggressive use of water magic in the Ministry against Voldemort. . . they could have been compared. . . and you displayed proficiency in water magic during the second task.”

Dumbledore’s words left a bitter taste in Quinn’s mouth. In the intense situation of facing Voldemort, he had unleashed his water magic capabilities in public under the guise of the Invisible Vigilante.

I knew that day at the Great Lake would come to bite me in the back, thought Quinn.

Dumbledore, oblivious to Quinn’s thoughts, pointed to his hands. “No one has ever seen the Invisible Vigilante use a wand. The DMLE and even I thought that he was using some other form of focus, but it turned out he was not using one at all— you showed flashes of wandless magic in Hogwarts, especially near the end. . . and after Hogwarts, I had heard you had rested your wand, I thought you were growing splendidly as you became older and gained more experience— never did I thought that you were holding back since who knows when.”

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, the one who had defeated one Dark Lord and had been a thorn in the second one’s, seemed tired as he stared at Quinn incredulously. “The Novellus Accionites’ attack at Hogsmeade in 1993, that’s where you made your public appearance. . . . you were fourteen years old that year. . . a fourteen year old who thrashed grown adults into walls and stabbed them with ice spikes. Was that your first endeavor, or did you start before that with some incident that the DMLE hasn’t credited to you?”

While Dumbledore tried to wrap his head around the fact that the Invisible Vigilante could have started as a fourteen-year-old kid behind a mask, Quinn was thinking with his mind running at hyper speeds; what was he going to do now— one of the most influential men in the country was convinced that he was the Invisible Vigilante.

“What is this, Professor?” Quinn shook his head. “Why are you trying to match to unrelated people? How could I be the Invisible Vigilante? I wasn’t even in the country during the Dark Lord’s attack on the Ministry. I was out in America when all of that happened. There is ample proof in government records, and there were people who saw me there in case you’re thinking of going to the DMLE with this ridiculous theory of yours.”

“You’re right, I’m not going to the Aurors with this,” Dumbledore shook his head. “You’re very fortunate to be born in the family you were born in, Mr. West. You have access to things people can only dream of. You are right; I don’t have any way to legally prove that you’re the Invisible Vigilante. Even if I could, your grandfather would prevent you from facing any charges. . .”

There was something Quinn could finally agree with. If push came to shove and his identity was finally revealed, his grandfather would ensure that he wasn’t put into Azkaban for his actions. The Ministry might actively pursue him for his crimes, but he would never be tried if George West had some say in it— and George West usually had a say in everything.

“. . . And because of that, I feel no guilt to use this information for my own purposes.”

“. . . What?”

“I’m going to go to your grandfather and tell him all about this. I will tell him my findings. . . my theory. . . and I’ll show him your reaction today to convince him that you’re the Invisible Vigilante. . .”

“Wait—”

“. . . I’m going to then put forward a proposition. He provides me all the support I need for the war against Voldemort in exchange for my keeping quiet about the truth.”

“Listen here—”

“George will understand the severity of the situation. He will know what this information can do coming from my mouth. He will, on his own, recall how the current leadership of DMLE feels about the Invisible Vigilante and the Ministry’s changed stance on the wanted criminal. And to make sure that his grandson’s life isn’t tainted by such a dark spot, he will cooperate with me and provide—”

“Dumbledore!” Quinn roared as he smashed the side of his fist on the petite table.

The small tea shop shook as if an earthquake was coursing the bricks of the building. The short shopkeeper on the counter stood up with his wand out, but Dumbledore waved him down to ensure everything was fine.

“Don’t push it, Dumbledore,” Quinn glowered. “If there’s one thing I don’t like, that’s someone trying to take advantage of those close to me.”

Dumbledore stood up calmly from his chair and looked down at Quinn, “You’ve been blessed with prosperity many couldn’t even dream to imagine, so I say it is time to pay up.” His face turned bitter as he continued, “You’re a killer, Mr. West. So young but with blood on your hands. You shouldn’t have gone through that— and for that, I profusely apologize. But I need your grandfather’s help to prevent that from ever happening, and this is the quickest way to accomplish that.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” scoffed Quinn. “You have blood plenty on your hands, Dumbledore. Don’t try to dress all of that in a pretty package and try to guilt-trip me along with all the emotional pointers you just threw.”

Dumbledore showed a bitter smile. He nodded deeply, “I know, Mr. West. I am well aware of that,” he looked down at his hands with a brief haunted look in his eyes.

He didn’t say a single more word and turned away to leave.

“What if I tell him myself?” said Quinn immediately.

Dumbledore stopped, turned his head, and shook his head, “It’s not going to make a difference. . . . I apologize for doing this. I would’ve never done this if it wasn’t for the current circumstance. . . . It is all for the Greater Good.”

Quinn wanted to say so much hearing that, but Dumbledore continued to walk away, and the words died in his mouth as other thoughts took more forceful priority.

He stared at where Dumbledore had placed the chalk vial that he had taken away.

He had to make plans.

And he had to make them quick.

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Quinn West – MC – Oh, shut up!

Albus Dumbledore – Defeator of Dark Lord – It is for the Greater Good.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – Again, a reminder. Read Chapter 155: “As I Thought” if you’re confused and need a short recall.

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