Standard disclaimer: time is NOT
money. Otherwise the author would have a hell of a lot of it for all
the months he spent writing this.
Non-standard praises: to Black Angel, who plows through all my verbiage with dispatch.
With
the meeting finally over, Molly Weasley hugged him, fussed about how
those awful Muggles looked like they were starving him again, and
generally gave Harry a proper welcome back to 12 Grimmauld Place. In
years past her attentions had always temporarily filled the void left
by the absence of his real mother, but now he felt strangely
indifferent to them. It wasn't that he'd ceased to like and love Mrs.
Weasley. Far from it. It wasn't because she didn't want him to attend
The Order's meeting. He only minded that a little. The thing that
nagged him, quietly but persistantly, like a very small stone stuck in
his shoe, was that she hadn't thought Sirius fit to be his guardian.
She
did nothing to help her standing when Ron and Ginny came bursting into
the kitchen a moment later; Mrs. Weasley inevitably tried, over their
strenuous protests, to make Harry promise not to tell them anything
about what was said the previous two hours.
It was a battle she
was bound to lose however. So much of the meeting had revolved around
the content of Harry's dream, and she could hardly ask him not to tell
his own dreams to anyone, least of all Ron and Ginny. What with the
attack on their father before last Christmas and events that led them
into the Department of Mysteries, they were only too aware of his
connection to The Dark Lord through his scar. Eventually Mrs Weasley
did get her way in part; Harry agreed not to talk about anything in the
briefings unrelated to his dream, and Ron and Ginny quickly accepted
those terms.
By this time Harry was famished. He'd risen early,
endured more than a little excitement getting away from the Dursleys,
and attended a lengthy conference without having a single bite to eat
anywhere on the way. It was all around a bad combination for a growing
boy, so while he was sincerely wolfing down toast and eggs, Ginny
pretended to be interested in making small talk about the effort to
clean up the house, and Ron just a little too casually suggested they
make sandwiches they could take with them into the garden; both knew
there wasn't much point trying to talk to Harry about the meeting with
their mother present.
Mrs Weasley for her part amused herself
by trying to draw out the encounter. She didn't even reprimand Harry
for talking with food in his mouth a couple times. Everything was
winding along a little more slowly than the two Weasley children would
have liked, and then Kreacher did them a favor by emerging from his
cupboard in a typically resentful mood. Now that the house was cleaned
up and Voldemort's inner circle temporarily away from England he didn't
have much to do these days, and spent most of his time brooding.
"There are the blood traitors and that half-blood Kreacher deceived," he said aloud to himself.
Harry felt his muscles clench. His hand involuntarily slid towards his wand.
"There's
the littlest blood traitor who torments Kreacher's beloved master," the
disgruntled house elf continued, walking past Ginny. "Kreacher will
avenge my poor lady so that she will open her curtains again."
Blood
(or as some would have it, half-blood) was pounding in Harry's ears. He
jumped to his feet, shaking with barely contained rage. This little
monster had laughed, Laughed! about helping Voldemort play a trick that
ended up costing Sirius his life. The wand clutched in his right hand
began to shoot out irregular bursts of red sparks.
"The old, unworthy master is dead, but poor Kreacher still has to serve his unclean friends."
The
Noble and Most Ancient House of Black's one remaining house elf might
have been blasted to pieces at that point if all three Weasleys hadn't
jumped in front of Harry and tried to calm him down. Molly Weasley was
suddenly in agreement with her children that making sandwiches to take
to the garden was a good idea after all. She slapped them together in a
flash (literally; the latest issue of Witch Weekly had a lovely little sandwich spell), and soon Ron, Ginny, and Harry were on their way to the rear entrance.
Getting
the tree to open from the inside was a much simpler process than doing
it from the outside, although it took just as long. They merely had to
push one particular root and off it went.
"Stasis" Ron commanded the tree when they'd climbed up into the garden.
"That keeps it from folding back up while we're out here," he explained when Harry looked at him.
They found a relatively clear patch of grass and sat down.
"Well, what about the rest of that story you were telling us when you got in?" asked Ginny.
"You don't want me to tell you about The Order's meeting first?"
"Oh
definitely," put in Ron, "but there's no hurry. We were making all that
noise downstairs just for show. Fred and George always fill us in."
THAT was news.
"Didn't your mum make them promise not to tell you anything?"
"Of
course she did, but all a promise like that means to the twins is
'record everything on their wands with a Perscribus Charm and let them
play it back on their own'." said Ginny.
"Say speaking of the twins, this morning they mentioned something about everyone moving back to The Burrow," said Harry.
"We've talked about it, but I don't think it's going to happen," Ginny sighed.
"It's
still too dangerous," affirmed Ron. "There's no need to take the chance
when we've got this place. You can't even find it unless Dumbledore
tells you where it is."
"Remus probably doesn't want us to leave either," said Ginny.
At that point they were interrupted by a tawny owl carrying a letter for "The Weasleys," which Ron took and opened.
"It's from Hermione! She says she'll be here tomorrow or the next day!" Ron exulted before he carried on reading.
"Excellent!" Harry responded. "Why isn't she here already?" he asked Ginny.
"Because
of her parents, basically," Ginny replied. "After she spent so much
time here last summer, and skipped out on their Christmas skiing
holiday, and everything that happened to her at the Department of
Mysteries they wanted her to be with them for a little while I guess. I
hope she's been all right."
"Why wouldn't she be?"
"Do you really have to ask," said Ginny, "what with all the Death Eaters running around?"
"Hmmm,
I see your point...." Harry's voice trailed off. Hermione was
Muggle-born. Not only that, Voldemort must know by now she was one of
his closest friends. "I hope Dumbledore arranged to have wards put up
around their house or hide it with a Fidelius Charm."
"He arranged for both. I think their house must have as many wards around it as this one," said Ginny.
"Hey,
you won't believe this," broke in Ron. "She says it was a really good
thing you taught the Defense Association how to do the Patronus, Harry,
'cos she and her parents were attacked by a couple of dementors."
"What!?" Harry and Ginny exclaimed simultaneously, horror-struck. They lunged toward Ron to read the letter too.
"Yeah, I know! Everyone is OK though. She managed to drive them off."
"Gods,
what if Umbridge had had her way and we didn't learn anything except
Defense theory last year?" said Ginny with a shudder as she sat down
again.
They fell silent pondering the dreadful implications.
"Wonder
if the Ministry's going to haul her up before the full Wizengamot and
try to expel her," Harry muttered bitterly after awhile.
"They'd better not!" Ginny snarled.
"If
they do we should get together all the witnesses who heard Umbridge
admit she sent two of those things after you last year" said Ron.
"Maybe
we ought to do it anyway. Tell her if Fudge doesn't do exactly as
Dumbledore tells him we're going to the press with it," said Ginny.
"Oh,
so you want to blackmail him 'eh? And you call yourself a Prefect!" Ron
pretended to chide her. "Not that I don't agree completely mind you,"
he added quickly.
"Prefect!?" exclaimed a startled Harry, Hermione's ordeal momentarily driven from his mind.
Ginny became very interested in the tips of her shoes.
"You made Prefect, Ginny?" Harry asked.
"She's not too happy about it," confided Ron.
"I
don't know what I am about it!" she snapped. Then her expression
softened to wistfulness. "I know it's supposed to be an honor, but... I
kind of saw myself taking up where Fred and George left off."
"You did?" he knew the twins and their sister were close, but Harry had never imagined something like that from Ginny.
"So
there you were plotting to set off fireworks in the school and turn a
hallway or two into a swamp, and then that dreaded badge showed up,
right?" said Ron.
"Yeah, something like that," replied Ginny defiantly. "I'd like to have the option, anyway," she quietly added after awhile.
"Well, you could always look the other way when all of Fred and George's other successors get up to stuff," said Harry.
"Woo Hoo, that sounds like a lot of fuuun," she said sarcastically.
"Bet your mum was happy though," said Harry.
"Oh, over the moon!" said Ron.
Ginny
sighed. "I guess there's one consolation. Mum said all the other
Weasleys who made Prefect got something special, and I decided I want a
post owl. In a couple weeks we're going to go to Diagon Alley so I can
choose one."
"You should get a broom. You're going to need a better one if you play Chaser," said Ron.
"The broom I used last year will work fine," she replied. "I played Seeker with it and caught the snitch twice."
"Did
Hermione have anything else to say?" asked Harry, as much to head off
an argument as because he wanted to know. Normally he'd have been more
than happy to discuss Quidditch.
"Yeah. Except for the dementors she's had a good summer, and her parents were so pleased with her O.W.L.s they're getting her something special. Doesn't say what though."
"Say, now that you mention it, what did you get in History of Magic?" asked Harry.
Ron suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He mumbled something Harry couldn't hear.
"What was that?" asked Harry.
"I passed," Ron said in a voice barely above a whisper.
"You
passed!? How did you manage to get an O.W.L. in History of Magic?"
asked Harry. "You didn't pay any more attention to Binns than I did."
From
the evidence provided by all his stuttering and stammering Ron had
apparently forgotten how to speak English. How interesting. He'd really
earned nine O.W.L.s, and was trying to hide it.
Ginny rolled her eyes and smirked. "He 'persuaded' Hermione to let him read her notes."
"You
'persuaded' her to let you read her notes and didn't give me a chance
to read them too!?" Harry nearly shouted, sitting bolt upright.
"Look I'm sorry!" Ron nearly wailed. "I tried to get them away from her for you, but she wouldn't go that far."
"What did you do to 'persuade' her anyway?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Ginny
was nearly doubled over from giggling. Now it was Ron's turn to find
the tips of his shoes irresistibly interesting. His ears had turned a
unique shade of crimson.
"All right, never mind that," Harry
barked impatiently. "Just think about what the practical side of your
Defense O.W.L. might have been like if I hadn't shared what I knew."
Privately he wondered just when Ron and Hermione had gone the next step
beyond mere friendship, or why he hadn't noticed.
"I said I was sorry," Ron mumbled in a defeated tone.
Harry immediately regretted making such a fuss about a class that had never interested him in the first place.
"Aw,
forget it Ron. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have brought it up," Harry
said roughly. "I probably wouldn't even have remembered what was in
them anyway. Right in the middle of that O.W.L. I started getting that
false vision from Voldemort, the one where he was torturing Sirius. It
kind of messed up my concentration if you know what I mean."
Sirius.
He'd managed not to think about his Godfather since they'd come into
the garden. A cloud passed over his face, and the three of them became
very quiet again. Ron frowned pensively at the tree, perhaps
remembering the fantastic sequence of events that had followed after
the huge black dog dragged him into the Whomping Willow. Ginny looked
at her hands folded in her lap.
"Harry, are you going to lead Defense Association sessions again this year?" she asked to change the subject.
"Huh?" he said, rousted from the early stages of yet another descent into gloom.
"Are we going to keep on with the DA mate?" asked Ron, coming out of his own grim reverie.
That caught him by surprise. He'd never given it a moment's thought.
"I
don't know. I suppose it depends on whether or not we have a real
Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You know, someone who actually
wants us to learn something," Harry said thoughtfully.
"I think
you should Harry. Everyone got a lot done in the DA. You were way
better than most of the Defense teachers we've had," said Ginny
sincerely.
"And you never once deducted house points or gave detentions," joked Ron.
"Well,
let's see if anyone else is even interested when we get back to
Hogwarts. If they are I'll consider it," Harry finally conceded.
"I'll bet a lot of people are. I'll bet there are more even than we had last year," Ginny affirmed with confidence.
"Ugh. I sure hope it isn't more. Thirty was enough to handle at one time thank you," said Harry.
"You
could always delegate. We've all been in combat now. And now that we
know Hemione can do the Patronus well enough to fight off dementors you
could both demonstrate that one," said Ron with enthusiasm.
Harry
was warming to the idea. Everyone in that impromptu class really had
made a lot of progress. Still, Harry wasn't going to jump into it. No
telling what demands might be made on his time in the coming year.
"Like I said, only if people are interested."
"Right then. Tell us the rest of what happened at your relatives' this morning." said Ginny, changing the subject again.
Harry
got back into the tale more or less where he's left off before
Dumbledore took him to the meeting, and after a good laugh he moved on
to the two dreams he'd had a week earlier: the interview with Fortuna
and Fortescue about the Department of Mysteries incident (the
investigators had subsequently talked to Ron and Ginny, who were awake
at the time and much preferred it that way), and his dream about
Voldemort. That led them inevitably to what had been discussed at The
Order's meeting that morning, including the plan to follow the Dark
Lord to Central Asia.
"I don't know Harry. If You-Know-Who has something even Dumbledore doesn't know about that's got to be big trouble," said Ron.
"Well, maybe they'll find out something when they look through all that stuff the Ministry took from Malfoy Manor," said Harry.
"Can you imagine what Malfoy is going to be like when we go back to Hogwarts after The Prophet's
been ripping his father apart and Ministry Aurors have turned his house
upside down? Maybe he won't even show up." said Ron enthusiastically.
"We
can only dream, can't we?" agreed Harry. "I suppose you told your dad
what we overheard Malfoy say about the secret trapdoor in his house?"
Ron snickered. "Yes, isn't it funny how the Aurors knew where to look?"
"When did you overhear Malfoy say something about a secret trapdoor?" asked Ginny.
"Oh, during our second year," Ron said evasively.
"You mean when you brewed Polyjuice Potion and sneaked into the Slytherin common room?" she asked innocently.
Ron and Harry grimaced. "Hermione told you about that I suppose," said Ron.
"Of course. What I don't understand is why you never told me about it," said Ginny.
"Slipped my mind," said Ron.
"About
that raid," Harry interrupted quickly. "What's going on at the Ministry
anyway? I can't image Fudge doing anything that decisive." Unless it
involved covering his rear, scheming to hold onto power, or attacking
Harry.
"He didn't. Amelia Bones set that up. Good thing too. She
kept it a secret until the last minute, and made sure the Aurors
leading it were in The Order," said Ron.
Amelia Bones... he knew
that name from somewhere. Obviously a relative of Susan Bones, and
obviously in a position of some authority at the Ministry.
"What?" said Ron, noticing that Harry was staring off into space.
"I'm trying to remember who Amelia Bones is. I know I've heard the name before," said Harry.
"Head
of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," supplied Ginny, who
seemed to be mulling over something about the plan Harry had described
to chase Voldemort.
"Oh.... Oh yeah!" said Harry when
realization struck him. "Tough looking old lady with a monocle. She was
at my hearing last year."
"That's her," said Ron. "Unofficially she's a member of The Order. Sends her assistant Henrietta Fawcett to all the meetings."
"Which one is she?" asked Harry, forgetting Ron wasn't attending the meetings themselves.
"Don't know. We've never been introduced. Fred says she's a stocky woman with gray hair and eyes like a hawk," Ron replied.
"Fred says? I thought Fred promised your mum not to tell you what goes on at meetings," said Harry.
"Promises made on pain of a big scolding are meant to be bent a little I guess. He figures since we've already listened to the meeting there can't be any harm in telling us who was there." said Ron.
It
finally dawned on Harry that the heavyset gray-haired witch who kept
sizing him up must have been Ms Fawcett. Why was she doing that? Had
word gotten back to the Department that he was interested in becoming
an Auror?
"I'm worried about Bill," Ginny interrupted softly.
Harry and Ron looked at her, unsure what to say, which she mistook for implied criticism.
"Well I am! Kingsley is an Auror, and Tonks and Heinrich are Metamorphmagi and Aurors. They'll blend in easily. Bill's really going to stand out where they're going."
"Gin,
it's OK," Ron said calmly. "Bill can handle himself. I'll bet he could
have become an Auror if he didn't fancy Egypt so much."
"And
that was only the first phase of the plan. The Order is going to send
more wizards there when it's able to," finished Harry.
"I'm still worried," said Ginny.
There
didn't seem to be anything more he could add, so Harry reached for a
sandwich instead. It had been a very busy morning and he was starting
to feel drowsy.
"Heard from Percy, then?" he asked offhandedly.
Their tight-lipped expressions told him all he needed to know.
"He's still not talking to you!?" Harry asked incredulously.
"I don't know why that git is so loyal to Fudge," Ron fumed.
"Probably can't admit he was so dead wrong about something," Ginny mused.
"And he can't take any time off from sucking up to whoever is in charge," Ron added uncharitably.
Little as Harry cared for Percy these days, he wished he hadn't mentioned it.
"Hey, you said Heinrich is a Metamorphmagi. Who is he?" asked Harry, stifling a yawn.
"Don't really know," said Ron.
"Come
on Ron, don't you remember? He's an Auror from the German Ministry,"
said Ginny. "And the other night I heard Dad say he was a bit barmy,"
she added after awhile.
"Barmy? How so?" asked Harry.
"He'll start talking about something and then kind of trail off. Makes it hard to hold a conversation with him," said Ginny.
Ron looked at his sister suspiciously. "How come you remember all that?"
Ginny shrugged. "It's all in the recording you know. Almost all of it anyway."
"You've been hanging around with Hermione too long," said Ron.
"You've been hanging around with her even longer," countered Ginny.
Sensibly, Ron quit while he was ahead.
"Harry, are you going to pass out on us?" Ron asked, noticing his friend's eyelids were drooping shut.
"I
might. It's been a long morning. I was up really early and wasn't
expecting to talk to The Order when I got here." He tried and failed to
suppress another yawn.
"Why don't you go back in and take a nap then," suggested Ginny.
Even
though it was just past noon Harry agreed that sounded like a good
idea. He promised he'd find them again when he'd rested for a bit and
headed back into the tree.
*
When
he arrived outside the room he and Ron were sharing, Harry thought of
something else he wanted to do and continued climbing to the third
floor. As there weren't as many doors up there, it didn't take long to
find the right one.
On the polished floorboards of what must
have once been Sirius' mother's bedroom was an unmistakably despondent
hippogriff. The poor beast got to his feet and trotted forward a couple
of steps with a hopeful air until he realized the black haired human
coming into the room was not who he thought it was. Harry bowed, and
the hippogriff listlessly bowed back before slumping to the floor again
with a resounding thud.
Harry knelt down to pat him on the beak,
sighed, and in a low raspy whisper he barely kept from breaking said,
"I really miss him too Buckbeak... I wish he was here."
Although
Buckbeak might have wanted to, it wasn't really possible for a
hippogriff to cry. He made do with a kind of basso cooing and nuzzled
against Harry's chest, who for his own part forgot to be embarrassed
and hugged Buckbeak around the neck. They stayed that way for a while.
It
had never occurred to Harry until now to wonder whether hippogriffs had
good memories, or if this particular hippogriff understood what it had
done for Sirius, or what Harry had done for both of them. Maybe it
didn't matter. He knew he should be satisfied that at least one of the
two innocent fugitives he'd help escape was still here.
"You
saved his life you know." Harry said, backing away to look into
Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes. "He was going to be killed two years ago
when the two of you flew away from the big castle. At least he got to
live a little longer because of you." And died too soon because of me, Harry thought but didn't say.
Buckbeak let out a shrieking caw, and once more leaned into Harry.
That
was all either of them had energy for. Harry dozed off seated on a
shabby rug with his arm draped over the hippogriff's back, and remained
blessedly asleep for an hour and half before he was jostled awake by
Buckbeak standing up.
"Perhaps you would be more comfortable if
you were to lie down on the bed, Harry," said Remus with a slight
smile. He had just entered the room carrying a bucket of dead rats.
"Huh,"
said Harry. "whuzat?" he added. "urrrm oh!" he concluded. His arm
tingled from having been leaned on for so long, and his glasses had
fallen off into his lap.
While Remus was placing the bucket in
front of Buckbeak, Harry blinked his eyes a few times, levered himself
into a standing position, walked over to a chair against the wall, and
flopped into it.
"I just came up to see Sir-- Buckbeak," said Harry groggily. Remus settled into an adjacent chair.
"I
quite understand. Buckbeak likes having visitors. It keeps his mind off
worse things." Lupin cocked his eyebrows significantly.
They
silently watched the hippogriff pluck up rats and devour them. Lupin's
features were as gaunt and weary as ever, but now there was also a
stricken quality about them that hadn't been there before.
"What
do you suppose will become of him now that...." Harry didn't want to
say "now that Sirius is dead" and didn't really need to.
Lupin
gazed thoughtfully at the fragments of rat accumulating on the floor.
"He will have to stay here for the time being I think. As far as we
know the Ministry still considers him dangerous."
"If the
Ministry is so worried about dangerous beasts they can start by getting
rid of Fudge and Umbridge," Harry snorted. "Buckbeak would be happier
if he could live in the Forbidden Forest I'll bet. Then he could fly
around a bit, hunt, and see Hagrid every once in awhile."
At mention of the Forbidden Forest a wistful look momentarily came into Remus' eyes.
"I
suppose you're right Harry, but think of what might happen if he was
seen," said Lupin. "It would take only one student reporting him to the
Ministry and someone from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous
Creatures will be out there looking for him."
Harry nodded
reluctantly in agreement. It didn't take much imagination to think of
one student who would report Buckbeak. In fact, he could think of at
least four: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson.
"So if
Buckbeak is staying here, who is going to take care of him, and what
happens to this house?" Harry asked after awhile. Again he chose not to
say "now that Sirius is dead."
"Ah yes, this house." Remus
looked around him ruefully. "That's up to me now. I hardly expected it
would be, but it is.... Buckbeak will also be my responsibility."
"You're in charge of this house?"
"I
am. Sirius, you see, insisted that I have ownership of it if he died."
Lupin was composed as usual except for a slight hitch in his throat, as
though the act of acknowledging the loss of a friend so recently
regained was still an effort.
"He insisted?" In truth Harry
wasn't sure he wanted to be asking about this, yet at the same time he
couldn't help himself. Remus Lupin was the last link he had with his
parents and with Sirius.
"Yes. We had quite an argument about
that," said Lupin. "I told him he didn't need to give me his house. I
told him he should give it to you or Tonks, and I would manage as I
always have."
"So you didn't really want it." Inwardly, Harry
cringed at the tone of his statement, which he thought came out
sounding like an accusation.
Lupin drew in a breath and silently
collected his thoughts. "I wouldn't say it's a question of wanting or
not wanting Harry, I... well, as usual you've come right to the heart
of the matter. You've probably noticed I prefer to make do with
whatever resources I have, meager as they may be. Like I just said, I
manage. Sirius said he didn't want me to 'manage.' He wanted me to have
a home, or a place I could make into a home if I chose. He even said he
didn't care if I had it destroyed, just so long as I agreed to take
charge of it.... The way he put it was somewhat more emphatic though."
Harry waited for Lupin to reveal what exactly Sirius had said. When the words weren't forthcoming he prompted, "and that was?"
The
slight smile was back. "Will you get it through your stupid, thick
furry head that friends can GIVE each other stuff without it being
charity," said Remus, doing such a good vocal impression of their
departed friend that Harry laughed softly in spite himself.
"I'll
have to try that one on Ron sometime," Harry said weakly. "So what does
his mother's portrait think about you owning her house?" he continued
with more assurance.
"Oh, she expressed her opinion about that
in her usual manner, but she hasn't done as much shouting in the past
month. Seems she's afraid of one of the people living here," said a
still smiling Remus.
Strangely enough, until just then Harry
hadn't noticed the absence of Augusta Clementine Black. He'd been at 12
Grimmauld Place half a day and not heard her once, even though no one
was bothering to keep their voice down in the main hallway.
"Last
year she didn't hold back, and there were Ministry Aurors and Albus
Dumbledore trooping in an out every other day," said Harry. "Who here
could she be afraid of?"
"Ginny."
The look of perplexed disbelief on Harry's face was too much for Lupin, who laughed openly.
"The
portrait has been helping Ginny refine her Quidditch skills. I won't
say how. It's much better to see it than hear it," said Remus.
Harry shrugged but didn't press the matter. He could ask Ron or Ginny about it later.
"I just want to play again. It's been months since I've been able to fly," said Harry with slight apprehension.
That
too earned a mild laugh from Remus. "Harry, you must know by now you're
a natural flyer. Sirius always raved about that one match of yours he
watched as Padfoot. He said you were as good in your third year as
James was in his seventh. I think a couple practice catches with a live
snitch and it'll be as if you were never away."
"I hope so,"
Harry sighed. The casual way Remus mentioned Sirius had pulled him in
two directions again. He was delighted to have made such an impression
on his Godfather, and depressed that that was the one and only match
Sirius would ever see him play. There was nothing to do for it though.
He decided to discuss something more innocuous.
"Professor?"
Lupin gave an inaudible sigh of resignation at the persistence of a title he hadn't held for two years. "Yes Harry?"
"Remember last term when I contacted Sirius to ask about Snape's memory?"
"Of
course," Remus' voice was calm but his body had tensed slightly. No
telling what unpleasant corner of his family history Harry wanted to
poke into and tidy up.
"Well, all of you had just taken your
O.W.L.s. I was wondering what your results were. Did you know Hermione
got twelve, and ten of them were O's?"
Lupin relaxed. "I didn't
know Miss Granger's scores, but I'm not the least surprised she did so
well. Let's see, I think your father had eleven and Sirius had ten. But
if either of them had studied a little more they could have easily had
twelve as well. I had a dozen. Peter managed only five."
"I got
seven." Downcast, Harry drew a noisy breath thinking he should have
picked some other Innocuous Subject. Until that exact moment doing well
in school had never been a priority in an of itself. Now for the first
time he felt simultaneously impressed by the Marauders and ashamed of
himself.
"Those are very good results, nothing to be ashamed of
at all Harry!" said Remus with conviction. It was eerie how the mood in
the room had changed, as though they only now realized they'd both just
wandered amiably onto a sheet of thin ice. "You have to understand,
your father and Sirius were Hogwarts' most talented students back then.
There wasn't anything they couldn't do when they put their minds to it."
Harry's glum expression didn't change. If anything it deepened a little.
"Look,
Harry, there's something else you should consider. Your father, Sirius,
and I all had the benefit of growing up in magical households. You
absorb a lot of incidental knowledge that way. It gives you an
advantage when you finally get to Hogwarts," said Remus.
Harry
wasn't convinced. "Ron grew up in a magical family, and he isn't an
especially good student. Hermione grew up with Muggles the same as I
did, and she's the best student at school in who knows how long."
"Ron
hasn't found his own place yet," Lupin responded immediately. "All five
of his older brothers in their own ways have achieved impressive
things. That's what he has to measure himself against, and I imagine
even now he still doesn't know where to begin."
Four years ago The Mirror of Erised, Harry recalled, had been more than revealing on that score.
"I
would also suspect," Remus continued, "that he isn't under a lot of
pressure from Molly and Arthur to excel. I know they love him dearly,
but after all his brothers have accomplished maybe he isn't expected to
do more than hold his own, and consequently he doesn't expect much from
himself. As for Hermione, she's a rare case. Her academic performance
would have been outstanding no matter what school she attended. As for
you, you didn't grow up with Muggles 'the same as Hermione.' I've met
her parents, however briefly, and they give her a lot of support in
what she's doing even if they don't understand all of it. You grew up
with Muggles who intensely hate magic and hated you for being magic.
Hated it so much they tried to beat it out of you. Then when you
finally got to Hogwarts, I'm fairly confident Professor Snape couldn't
resist carrying on the feud he had with your father as if you weren't
your own person."
There wasn't anything Harry could say or
wanted to say to counter Lupin's arguments. Besides, his jaw had gone
numb. He inclined his head in a half nod and exhaled.
"On top of
that, Lord Voldemort has never stopped trying to kill you. I think if
you'd been able to grow up with James and Lily there for you, and
nothing more important to worry about than Quidditch and classes, you'd
have been just as good a student as they were. Which is to say
outstanding. As it is you've done exceptional work in spite of the
barriers in your way. Sirius was very proud of you. James would have
been proud of you."
Whatever Harry might have wanted to say in
response didn't get a chance to leave his mouth, because at that moment
Tonks flung open the door so forcefully it knocked him to the floor for
the second time that day.
"Remus, I've been looking all over
for... OH HARRY! I'm sorry!" she exclaimed rushing in to help him back
up. Somehow his feet and legs had gotten entangled with those of the
chair, which had fallen over with him, so that he ended up staggering
on his knees and doing a belly-flop before he was properly free of it
and able to stand. All the racket they were making awakened a napping
Buckbeak, who added a few raucous shrieks of irritation to the shouts
and clatter of wood.
They got themselves settled again on three
chairs, this time with Tonks and Remus seated side by side holding
hands facing Harry. He didn't know what to make of their intimacy. Were
they a couple now? Remus had to be at least fifteen years older than
Tonks, if not more. It wasn't the kind of thing he felt comfortable
asking.
Instead they talked a little about that morning's
meeting, which gave Harry a chance to ask what else The Order was up
to. Now that Voldemort's return was publicly known and acknowledged,
recruiting wasn't as difficult, and most of their energy could be
devoted to figuring out who the Dark Lord's supporters were or might
be. And that in itself was quite a big job. In spite of the solid
majority opposed to him, Harry found it disheartening all the same that
there could be as much sympathy for Voldemort as there was. Didn't
everyone remember the first war?
Out of the blue Tonks confirmed something he'd begun to suspect earlier during his conversation with Ron and Ginny.
"You
know Fawcett and Kingsley were really pleased you were at the meeting
this morning. They knew you were coming today, of course, but it was
sort of a bonus when you walked in with Albus Dumbledore. Minister
Bones has been very interested in you ever since she found you were
thinking about becoming an Auror."
Harry's eyes widened and he
bit his lip. All of a sudden he was flooded with doubts about his
ability to meet their expectations. It must have shown on his face.
"Now, now, lets have none of that," said Tonks cheekily.
Remus
patted him on the knee. "Harry, just keep working hard the way you have
and you'll be fine. You've already proved yourself in the face of
danger."
"Oh, before I forget Harry, Heinrich Umnebel wants to
talk to you," Tonks said with a look of amusement on her face. "Said
you'd know what it was about."
Umnebel. He immediately guessed
that must have been the tall wizard who offered to go to Central Asia.
But what did Umnebel want to talk to him for?
"Uh... I don't, I-I have no idea at all. Do you know?" said a very confused and somewhat annoyed Harry.
"No. But I'm sure he'll tell you. Eventually." said Tonks.
*
Even
with Tonks, Fleur Delacour, and Kingsley Shaklebolt at the table,
dinner was a typically Weasley affair: loud and messy. Ron shared
Hermione's news --everyone was suitably horrified about the dementors--
and gradually a number of smaller discussions got underway. Fleur and
Bill resumed an argument they'd been having since that morning. Harry
guessed it was probably about the mission to Central Asia; either she
didn't want him to go, or didn't want him to go without her. Fred,
George, and Remus talked shop; something about developing a Marauder's
line of products. Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley listened to Mr. Weasley,
Kingsley, and Tonks animatedly discuss the ebb and flow of developments
at the Ministry.
When talk briefly turned to what was recovered from Malfoy Manor, Harry had to break in.
"Didn't
Fudge blow his top when he found out about the raid? I mean, I'm
assuming he didn't know beforehand. It's not at all the kind of thing
he'd do is it? And Lucius Malfoy has given him a lot of money, right?"
Mr.
Weasley nodded. "Right you are Harry, Fudge didn't know until after the
raid was over and the artifacts brought back, and he was extremely
upset about it. But the thing is, his position as Minister isn't as
secure as it was two months ago. Seems like spending a year denying
You-Know-Who was back and trying to discredit Dumbledore is making
people question his competence. Bit overdue really, eh? So now he has
to work twice as hard making it look like he's on top of the situation.
If Amelia Bones thinks a massive raid on a Dark Wizard's home is
justified, all he can do is play to the press like it was his idea all
along."
Shacklebolt offered his own observations. "Even though
he knows Voldemort has returned, Fudge still believes Headmaster
Dumbledore is plotting against him. He devotes half his energy trying
to ingratiate himself, and half trying to discover where the coup is
coming from."
"He has informants in all the major departments," added Tonks.
"Not mine though," said Arthur chuckling.
Harry was so surprised to learn Fudge persisted in holding on to his delusion that the spying bit didn't sink in at first.
"But
that's ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed. "How could Fudge still think
Dumbledore is against him!? The Minister saw Voldemort with his own
eyes right in the Ministry!"
"It is ridiculous," agreed Shacklebolt. "The idea has taken on a life of its own, I suppose."
"He was probably starting to believe it even before Dumbledore warned of You-Know-Who's return," said Mr Weasly.
"Funny thing is, the Malfoy Manor raid was Dumbledore's idea, so Fudge was half right about that one," said Tonks.
"I've
never understood how Fudge can expect the department heads to be on his
side if they know he's spying on them." Mrs Weasley broke in.
"Well,
Cornelius Fudge does have one notable talent," said Kingsley. "He can
make the same people be his friends and his enemies at exactly the same
time. I don't know if he expects the department heads to support him so
much as not move against him,"
"Is anyone maneuvering to take his place?" asked Harry.
"Of course. Albus Dumbledore," said Ron. Everyone laughed.
"Seriously, there are. There always are. But none have gained the necessary allies," said Mr. Weasley.
"And to be honest, none are worthy of the office," said Kingsley.
Considering
how little they all thought of Fudge that certainly said a lot about
his potential successors. Harry wondered whether any of the
confederates Voldemort said he had at the Ministry were lining up to
make a run at the top job. On the other hand, maybe having an inept
Minister of Magic in office served his purposes, and therefore maybe
for the time being Voldemort's supporters were also going to be Fudge's
biggest supporters.
In a flash Harry recalled from his dream
that that was indeed Voldemort's plan. He interrupted the discussion
again so he could share his thoughts. When he finished there was a
pregnant silence around the table. Apparently everyone had been
listening.
Kingsley finally spoke up, his slow, deep voice
conveying more than its usual gravitas. "Arthur, maybe you should be
Minister of Magic."
"Me!?" exclaimed Mr. Weasley in a high,
strangled voice. "Kingsley, you must be joking! I appreciate your
consideration, but good grief, who would support that!?"
"I think I would," said Tonks.
There were murmurs of assent around the room.
"More people than you might think," said Molly. She gave Arthur an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Not
as much as I'd need either. But that's beside the point. I'm not at all
sure I want it," said Mr. Weasley in a way that conveyed not only was
he one hundred percent certain he didn't want it, the idea was
ridiculous on its face.
"I concede now may not be the best time to attempt it Arthur, but the time will surely come," said Kingsley.
Harry
looked back and forth between all the people encouraging Mr. Weasley, a
little flummoxed at having precipitated this argument. Ginny leaned
over and whispered in his ear, "Good going Harry. I expect they'll be
at it the rest of the night trying to convince him, but Dad will agree
to it in the end."
What had he started? Or was it Kingsley who
started it? With all that had happened today and all that had been said
he was beginning to feel the mental equivalent of indigestion and
decided he didn't want to think about anything complicated for the rest
of the evening, certainly not who should be the next Minister of Magic.
He finished eating, quietly excused himself from the table, and went up
to his bedroom to read The Dark Arts Outsmarted. Eventually, Ron and Ginny joined him there.
A/N:
Credit must be given where it is due. Parts of this chapter were
begged, borrowed, or stolen from other fanfic writers. My thanks to the
following giants for allowing me to stand on their shoulders:
The
line "Will you get it through your stupid, thick furry head that
friends can GIVE each other stuff without it being charity," is a
direct quote from Alkari's story "Toast," which you can read at http://www.sugarquill.net/read.php?storyid=1394&chapno=1
The
Perscribus charm is not something in canon. I saw it in Arabella &
Zsenya's massive and by all measures outstanding pre-OotP story "After
The End."
Although he disclaims responsibility for inventing it,
I got the idea for Minister Fudge having spies in all the Ministry
departments from reading Ashtur's story "Bones To Bones," which is on
Sugar Quill at http://www.sugarquill.net/read.php?storyid=1590&chapno=1