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Author: Author by Night Story: Spectators Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 1 Words: 21,201
Flight from Death Fleur felt hollow as the full impact of Dumbledore’s words hit her. Flight-From-Death. That was what his name meant in Aher language, and what they’d always called him. There was no “You-Know-Who.” But then again, Voldemort had never reached French shores. They were who had killed Cedric. And yet the Ministry dared deny it. How could they let someone as great as him die in vain? Fleur looked over at Viktor; he sat miserably as several Slytherins jeered right in front of him. The nerve of that lot. From what Fleur had heard about them, it wouldn’t have surprised her if at least some of them had kin who were involved in this… Death Eating, was it? Death Eaters? “Grindelwald killed most of my family in the war.” Viktor had told her that once. And there he was, forced to sit with people who were no better. Forced to listen to them gloat about the things they knew their mothers and fathers and siblings would do. The things they might do, if the war lasted long enough. Not that they were loud — but given what Dumbledore had just said, and their proceeding reputation, it was pretty obvious. Fleur quickly beckoned for Viktor to join her instead, but he either didn’t notice her or didn’t want to leave his Durmstrang friends. Fleur supposed the latter was fair. Fleur wondered whether she should really come back as she’d planned. She knew what Maman and Papa would say — no; absolutely not. Gabrielle would be terrified. It wouldn’t be a fun conversation, to say the least. But wouldn’t turning away from something she wanted be playing into their hands? They’d love knowing a “half-breed” like her was afraid of them. That they’d pressured the sort of person they wanted to do away into abandoning her dreams. Why give them such a victory? Besides, maybe almost losing Gabrielle to the Grindylows had been a test of her strength. Maybe all of this had. Perhaps she’d been meant to be a champion, meant to meet that handsome man with the earring, meant to be here now, and maybe she was meant to come back and do whatever it was she could do. Fleur would be back as soon as possible. Of that she had no doubt whatsoever. The Hufflepuffs had been communing in the common room ever since Cedric had died. But now, they were divided. “I just Floo’d my mum from Sprout’s office,” Zacharias announced. “She said he must be lying.” “Sprout let you in her office?” Megan asked. Zacharias laughed. “‘Course not, I sneaked in. But if she’s lying to us, too, and I think she might believe him—” “—then he’s right, because Sprout’s never lied to us,” Susan finished. Zacharias’s eyes narrowed. “So you believe him?” Bronson laughed wryly, and so much rage filled Megan, she turned quickly and said angrily, “What’s so funny?” “Don’t you just love that we’ve lost one of our best mates, and now Dumbledore’s come up with some contrived way to make it worse than it already is?” “It’s an insult to his memory,” Megan said firmly. “You never really cared about him,” Bronson retorted. There were dark lines under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well the last few nights. “You just fancied him like all the other girls.” A year ago, even six months ago, this would have silenced Megan straight away. But while tears weren’t far off, she managed to smile and look Bronson straight in the eye. “You’re wrong,” Megan told him. “I’ve learned who Cedric really is… was. He was everything Dumbledore said, and more. He danced with me the night of the Yule Ball — not to be disloyal to Cho, not because he returned my feelings, but because it was the right thing to do. He told us to be nice to the other champions. He never acted proud of himself, only confident and determined. That’s the kind of person he was. Cedric wasn’t just a silly crush. He was my friend. Your friend. Our friend. So no, I’m not going to settle with the idea that he just dropped dead, no matter what the Ministry of Magic says.” Megan ignored several voices calling her name, only paying attention to the running feet she knew belonged to Susan. She let her friend put her arm around her, and together they walked back to the dormitories.
It was supposed to have been over two years ago. This wasn’t the first Ginny had heard he was back, of course. Her parents had told her and the twins in McGonagall’s office. She’d discussed it with Bill and Ron — not a word from Percy. Her parents hadn’t said how he’d reacted; maybe he didn’t know yet. It was probably better to wait if the Ministry wasn’t telling people. Ginny thought Bill had mentioned telling Charlie, but she wasn’t sure. They were being tight-lipped, as though there were secrets now. Ginny didn’t like it. She’d kept a secret, and it almost killed three of her classmates and her brother’s best friend. Tom had made her do it. But he was supposed to have gone. Harry had destroyed the diary, hadn’t he? Wasn’t it You-Know-Who’s last try? That was all Ginny had thought about since that dreadful night. That was supposed to be the end, not the beginning. “Ginny? Are you okay?” Well, at least her brothers hadn’t noticed she was on the verge of tears. That was a plus. But Hermione had. She had a sympathetic look in her eyes, similar to the one she’d had when telling Ginny she thought Harry fancied Cho Chang. Ginny almost lied to Hermione, but she realized she couldn’t. “Tom’s back,” Ginny replied stiffly. When Hermione looked confused, she elaborated: “you know. Tom Riddle.” “Oh.” Hermione squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. “Of course. But it’s not really him, is it?” “Tom Riddle was You-Know-Who.” “No, I mean it’s not the same one in the diary. He can’t hurt you. He won’t remember you. You’re as safe as everyone else.” “I guess.” She didn’t get it, and Ginny wasn’t in any mood to explain. But as she absently dug into her food, Hermione kept trying to explain, apparently under the impression Ginny was the one who didn’t understand. Ginny knew Hermione meant well — her heart was always in the right place — but it was also not what she needed right now. “Ginny?” Neville had come up from behind them. “Can you help me find my Herbology book?” he asked. “I forgot where I put it.” Ginny jumped up, hoping Hermione wouldn’t notice how quickly. “Sure. Let’s go.” They walked past their classmates, many of whom had their heads together. Some looked scared; others looked sad. Most looked flabbergasted. “Where did you last have it?” Ginny asked Neville. To Ginny’s surprise, Neville cracked a grin. “I didn’t really lose it. I could see you were upset, and Hermione didn’t seem to be helping.” “Neville!” Ginny laughed. Who knew he had that in him? “Are you okay, though? Do you need to talk?” Ginny hesitated. “Ah.” The knowing look on Neville’s face was almost eerie, and Ginny realized there might be things she didn’t know about him. “You don’t need to say anything. At least until you’re ready to tell m— someone.” “You,” Ginny corrected him with a smile. “Thanks, Neville. Someday, when I’m ready, I will.” “Me too.” “For now, let's just go… anywhere but back in there.”
“Attention, Department of Magical Law Enforcement Employees: Please gather in the main wing within ten minutes.” Amelia Bones's voice was firm. Tonks and Kingsley exchanged a look. Here it was. Dumbledore had made his announcement; now, the Ministry had to react. Everyone gathered promptly. Tonks avoided meeting Arthur Weasley's eyes. They weren't meant to know one another, after all. At the front of the room were two people. The first was Amelia; she had a look on her face Tonks couldn't read. Next to her was Dolores Umbridge, coated in pink as always. Tonks always had the taste of stale candy-floss in her mouth when Umbridge was around. “Good afternoon,” Umbridge said, her voice syrupy and serene. “I am here because we've received word that there is fear mongering afoot. Several of you have told me of Floo calls and owls you've received from your children regarding the matter.” “Cut to the chase!” someone cried out. “Dumbledore's been telling them You-Know-Who is back!” Gasps and whispers and cries of outrage ran through the wing. It took several pleas of silence from Umbridge before they would stop. “I am telling you,” she began, “what I am telling all the other Departments: these are merely lies. You-Know-Who has not returned.” “But Dumbledore said—“ “Although this has not been publicly stated, we have been suspicions of him for a very long time. It is with much regret that our worst fears have been confirmed.” There was an uneasy quiet after that, and Umbridge pursed her lips in what Tonks knew was mock sympathy. “We could hardly believe it either,” she said. “But it has all been unravelling in front of us. The death of a student… a mad man breaking into the school and escaping on three occasions… hiring half-breeds…” Tonks almost let out an angry retort, but Kingsley stepped on her foot. “… not to mention,” Umbridge was saying, “the talk of attacks a few years ago. Was that ever resolved? No. It was not. He covered that up rather neatly.” Dumbledore covered that up? Oh, the nerve of them! Tonks thought. “So if Dumbledore's gone mad, what are you going to do about it?” a woman demanded angrily. “We're looking into it. For now… the Ministry promises you that there is no reason for alarm. Tell your children what I told you. If any of them have questions, they are invited to speak with me. I look forward to reassuring them.” Umbridge's grin widened. “She's got plans,” Tonks whispered to Kingsley. “For Hogwarts.” “How do you know?” “Weren't you listening?” Umbridge, meanwhile, had turned to Amelia. “Madame Bones? Do you have anything you would like to add?” Amelia cocked her head sideways, and after a fraction of a second, replied: “No. I think you have said everything.” Everything, and yet, nothing.
Hestia was home the night Megan came back from Hogwarts, of course. Normally, the Tonkses would’ve been too, but they’d claimed to have other plans. Really, they were helping Sirius settle into Grimmauld Place. That, and positively cross with Phyllis and Glynn for not believing Dumbledore — but Hestia’s parents didn’t know that. Hestia wasn’t sure where Megan stood; she couldn’t read her sister at all. She did notice that Megan was holding herself much differently — in September, Megan had been prone to giggling, and she’d hugged Hestia tightly. Now she walked with the gait of a young woman, did not giggle, and Hestia’s offering of a wide hug had been met with a surly half-hug in return. As they ate, Hestia tried to divert the conversation from the Ministry. But eventually, it came up. “So is it true,” Phyllis began, “that Dumbledore told you some… tall-tale?” Hestia tried to read the expression on Megan’s face, but it was impossible. Since when had it been impossible? They’d always been able to read each other. “He told us You-Know-Who is back, if that’s what you mean,” Megan said flatly. Glynn held her hand. “I hope you understand that Dumbledore… well, the Ministry’s had their eye on him for a while now, apparently. He’s not who he used to be. Fudge has promised us that You-Know-Who never returned.” Hestia bit her lip. Hard. “Of course,” Megan said. “I know a lie when I hear one.” Glynn and Phyllis both looked relieved. Hestia wasn’t sure whether they should feel relieved, or if she was the one who ought to feel relieved. “I forgot to tell you,” Megan continued, “that I’m going away with Susan next week. She’s visiting her Aunt Amelia for a while, see. You know Amelia Bones.” “I wish you’d asked your father and me first!” Phyllis said with a frown. “Oh. I hadn’t thought it might be a problem. I guess I can tell her no after all… I’d hate to turn down an invitation I already accepted, though.” “It’s not a problem,” Glynn said, but Hestia knew he’d probably had father-daughter time in mind. “Please ask us next time, okay?” “Okay,” Megan agreed. “Can I go unpack now?” Without waiting for them to respond, Megan hopped from her chair and trotted out of the kitchen. Hestia hurried after her sister, not sure what that would accomplish, exactly. “Meg,” Hestia said, shutting the door. Megan turned. “Yes, Hestia?” “I…” The sisters locked eyes, and Hestia wondered if she should say it. What if Megan was merely upset about Cedric, and none of this had anything to do with You-Know-Who? What if she said something to their parents? The Ministry was clearly going to great lengths to cover this up, and they would want their daughters to be completely loyal to Fudge. What if Megan was wondering the exact same thing about her? “If you need to talk,” Hestia began, “just… let me know. I’m still your big sister.” Megan cracked a smile. “I know you are. And… I’d be lying if I said I’m okay. I’m not. But I will be.” “I know. Me, too.” Hestia made to leave, but Megan shook her head. “I’d rather you stay. Just as long as we don’t have to talk about any of… that.” Someday soon, hopefully, they would be able to talk about things in earnest. For now, this would have to do.
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