Title: Harry Potter and the Staff of Merlin
Author: Legolas-gurl88
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the brains of the operation… I'm merely a huge fan.
Author Note (EVERYONE PLEASE READ!): For those who have found this story, I hope you enjoy it. Just as a note, as you'll find out, the first chapter is on Scrimgeour and the second chapter is on Draco Malfoy. The rest of the chapters, however, are ALL Harry. If you're too bored with Scrimgeour and Malfoy, you can skip the first two chapters, because you don't need to read them to understand the whole plot, but you might get confused at some small areas, so it's recommended that you do. But then again, things might come as more of a surprise if you don't read the first two chapters. It's totally up to you, I'm just giving a warning.
OoOoOoO
1. A Good Word
It was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening and Rufus Scrimgeour remained pacing in his office. Most of the Ministry employees had long since gone home for hot meals while very few others continued to work, munching on pumpkin pasties and other sweets to ease their growling stomachs. Scrimgeour's cold hands were clasped behind his back as he continued to stride nervously around the room, staring at the ugly lime-green carpet that had not been replaced since Fudge left office. His wire-rimmed glasses reflected the flames from the nearly-snuffed candles, whose light spread dully across the room. Upon the Minister's normally neat desk lay an assortment of papers-- mostly letters and memos, but also some newspaper clippings. The absence of the clicking sounds coming from his secretary's magical typewriter cast an eerie silence upon the vicinity.
Deciding it was no good to limp in circles anymore, Scrimgeour went to his desk and threw his bulk into the large wooden chair behind it. Picking up that day's newspaper, he shuffled impatiently through it to find a story he might have missed when skimming it earlier that day. Finally, he found a story about a witch in Derby named Padwala Mudsinger who claimed to have seen an image of the Dark Lord in her rabbit stew. Scrimgeour began to read the article.
'-- Mudsinger immediately contacted two Seers, Kady Uphorn and Wally Yotes to confirm the bad omen. The Seers told her that it was a figment of her imagination and that there was no way of reading the future in rabbit stew. Yotes recommended Mudsinger to speak with a therapist. Mudsinger's recent paranoia of Dark Magic caused her to go insane as she began seeing the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark in everyday objects, such as tables, bed sheets and a piece of toast. She has been confined to a room in St. Mungo's until the Healers believe her well enough to cope in the world alone once more. Objects in question have been thoroughly examined by the recently founded Department of Dark Magic and were found to be perfectly normal.'
Scrimgeour laughed shortly. What a story. Ever since the death of Dumbledore, the whole of the Wizarding Worlds seemed to feel as if every day would be it's last. He'd had such a hard time hushing up crazed stories about how certain wizarding families had been seen inviting the Dark Lord to tea.
"These stories should be saved for the Quibbler, not a decent newspaper like the Daily Prophet." said Scrimgeour one day to the head of the newspaper committee when they tried writing a story about a Common Welsh Green eating several five-year-old witches in a forest.
Scrimgeour began looking though pages and pages of other stories, stopping to read a small article on a recipe for Draught of Safety ('Guaranteed to block most jinxes, hexes and curses!'), as well as a small story on Harry Potter ('The Chosen One's story of what happened the night Albus Dumbledore died.). The Minister laughed deep in his throat. There had been so many stories about this matter on Harry Potter, all of which were extremely bogus. However, since these stories appeared, galleons began rolling in by the barrel from people who were desperate to know The story of Dumbledore's death.
Rubbing his wrists nervously, Scrimgeour's yellowish eyes glanced, in trepidation, at the clock hanging on his wall. Earlier that day, whilst reading a pile of letters from angry parents complaining about lack of security, a rather large owl landed on his desk with a letter clamped in it's beak. The letter had been rather short and now lay atop the pile of papers strewn upon his desk, announcing the time in which someone he'd asked to speak with would come. However, her arrival time had long since passed and Scrimgeour grew worried.
There was a small pop that jerked the Minister out of his harrowing thoughts. He swiveled his great head sharply to see what made the noise. In the middle of the room stood a tall witch. She was a very sharp woman, who, from her appearance, gave Scrimgeour the impression that she was very neat and orderly. Upon the bridge of her nose rested a pair of square glasses, magnifying her very stern eyes. Her lips were pursed to the point of disappearance and her brown hair was tied into a neat bun at the top of her head.
Scrimgeour rose from his chair and limped toward the witch dressed in emerald-green robes and kissed her hand politely.
"Professor Minerva McGonagall, how wonderful to finally meet you." he said, splitting a wide smile. McGonagall lifted her chin a little as if evaluating the man in front of her.
"Minister," she exchanged the greeting finally, then took a few steps forward.
"I thank you for coming on such short notice, Minerva--"
"That's 'Professor', Minister." said McGonagall stiffly. Scrimgeour chuckled slightly and pulled out his wand.
"My apologies, Professor. Now, why don't we sit down?" He flicked his wand a the empty floor in front of them and two chairs and a table appeared. McGonagall hesitated a moment, then moved to the closest chair and sat down.
"Tea?" Scrimgeour said, and a tray with a teapot and two teacups appeared.
"Water will do, Minister." said McGonagall.
"Of course, Minerva-- oh-- Professor." said Scrimgeour, pointing to one of the teacups. "Aguamenti." The teacup instantly filled with water and McGonagall pulled it close to her, but didn't drink.
"So, how've you been, Professor?" Scrimgeour said lightly, resting his chin on his hand. McGonagall, eyed him cagily.
"I am well, Minister," she said in cold tones, "but I am quite sure you didn't invite me to the Ministry this late at night to ask about my wellbeing?"
The smile that had been fixed on Scrimgeour's face fell at these words and he played with his short beard in thought, his bristly eyebrows knitting together.
"No… no, of course not-- I-- well--" he stammered, "I mean… I am glad I find you well, of course… but I wanted to--" he paused and pulled himself together, sitting a little straighter in his chair. He cleared his throat, "Professor, I wondered if I may speak with you about a few matters of importance?"
"Obviously," snapped McGonagall, "I am here, aren't I? I assure you, if I did not want to know what you wanted, I would most certainly not be here."
"Well, then," said Scrimgeour, "I wanted to talk to you about two things--"
"Then get on with it. I am rather tired." said McGonagall. Scrimgeour paused for a fraction of a second, then continued on with what he'd been rehearsing to ask all day.
"You must know, Minerva," he said mechanically, "that I, too, am grieved about what happened to Dumbledore last June."
"That is kind to say," said McGonagall in a voice slightly more benign than the one she had adopted earlier. Scrimgeour felt braver now that McGonagall had calmed down a bit. Once again, he cleared his throat.
"However, I have reason to believe that he passed important information to Harry Potter during little meetings they had during the last school year. Certain things that may explicitly explain this prophecy about Mr. Potter and You-Know-Who."
"And?" said McGonagall, eyeing Scrimgeour beadily once more and the Minister drew back slightly.
"I have already tried to get Mr. Potter to tell me what Dumbledore told him, but he refused me answers. I would find it most helpful if you could tell me anything you know… anything Dumbledore might have told you."
"That information was strictly between Dumbledore and Potter."
"My good woman!" said Scrimgeour exasperatedly. "This information might help us on the road to defeating You-Know-Who for good!"
"With respect, Minister," said McGonagall slowly as if she were trying to contain her anger, "I must say that Dumbledore told me nothing of what went on between him and Potter. And again… with--my--apologies… even if Dumbledore told me something-- anything-- I would not tell you."
"Why ever not?" asked Scrimgeour, outraged. McGonagall's glasses flashed angrily.
"I value Dumbledore's trust, even when he is no longer here to hold me to my word," she said quietly.
"So you do know something. You're hiding it from me!" said Scrimgeour almost childishly, briefly forgetting his firm position as Minister.
"I know nothing, as I told you, and I most certainly am not hiding so much as a word." said McGonagall.
"Then tell me what Dumbledore and Mr. Potter did the night Dumbledore died. Why was he not there to stop those Death Eaters?"
"I cannot say." said McGonagall. Then, she grabbed her teacup and began drinking the water as if to shake of any more questions the Minister had. Once she finished, she set the cup down, her face slightly red and said to Scrimgeour in a more calmed voice. "You wished to ask me one more question, Minister?"
"Yes-- er, yes." he answered, taking up his own teacup and drinking from it, small trickles of tea dripping down his face. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he continued to speak.
"How-- how's the rebuilding of Hogwarts coming?" he said suddenly.
"Rather well. It won't be finished in time to open in September, however."
"So, you're still planning to reopen?"
"Yes."
"Even after all that happened there? Do you really think it proper to send children back to Hogwarts? It's not safe there."
"Then name one place where the children will be safe, Minister, I beg you." said McGonagall. She smiled cheekily as Scrimgeour open and closed his mouth several times like a fish.
"Very well! So they might not be safe anywhere! But do you really think that parents would want their children to go to Hogwarts?"
"If the students are willing to come back and learn, Minister," said McGonagall, "I see no reason to stop them from learning."
"Yes… of course… well…" said Scrimgeour.
"And it would be Dumbledore's wishes to continue on at Hogwarts without him. He once told me; 'Do not hesitate to show courage by continuing with your life as normally as possible when facing danger. It will irritate your enemies easier than when you are trying to annoy them.'"
"How touching." said Scrimgeour as McGonagall wiped a sudden tear from her eye. "But we must finish our business, Minerva."
"Then get on with it."
"Obviously, Dumbledore appointed you to be Headmistress should he die."
"Obviously." sniffed McGonagall haughtily.
"Yes." said Scrimgeour hastily. "However, given the recent --er-- circumstances in the wizarding world, I thought-- and seeing as how you're going to be reopening Hogwarts-- that the school should be placed in the care of someone more… experienced in administrative matters, shall we say."
McGonagall's nostrils flared and her gray eyes grew so wide that they bulged in fury. Then, she bellowed, "I have never, in all my years, been so insulted! More experienced in administrative matters? Do you think me some useless Pygmy Puff, incapable of knowing what is good or bad for my students?"
"I-- no, no!" Scrimgeour tried to shout over McGonagall.
"Dumbledore appointed me his successor if should he die! Ministry rules and regulations allowed him to do so. Therefore, you do not have the authority to tell me what I cannot do! Good day to you, Minister!" When she stopped yelling, she turned and rushed to the door.
"Wait!" the Minister yelled commandingly as McGonagall grabbed the doorknob. The Headmistress paused, then twirled around, her emerald robes swishing about her. Scrimgeour swallowed loudly, then spoke in a voice of forced calm, "I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. Please-- sit down so we can finish our discussion."
"If the discussion is about me handing over the keys to Hogwarts, I will speak no further to you. Dumbledore trusted me to care for Hogwarts and it's students, not the Ministry of Magic. I may not be as experienced as you prefer Headmasters and Headmistresses to be, Minister, but I will care for Hogwarts in Dumbledore's stead."
"Minerva," said Scrimgeour, "I need Hogwarts. You hear me, I need it."
"I know your ways, Minister." said McGonagall coldly, unmoving from her place by the door. The air in the room became thick. "You'd do a few good deeds at Hogwarts and make sure everyone puts in a good word about you in return. Do not think me so dim as to not see through this plan of yours."
There was silence in the Minister's room as the two occupants glared at one another. The clock chimed at eleven-thirty, and still, both refused to speak. Neither of them knew really what to say.
"Very well." said Scrimgeour, limping to his desk chair and sitting in it wearily. "I can see you will not be swayed in your decision. Thank you for coming down to see me. I hope you enjoyed the-- er-- water. I also hope that this discussion will not put the Ministry and Hogwarts in bad terms with each other as they have been recently."
"Thank you for inviting me, Minister." said McGonagall, nodding curtly in the direction of Scrimgeour. Then, with a small pop, she Dissaparated.
Scrimgeour sighed, but still, the heaviness in his chest would not pass. He suddenly felt weak. Letting the Headmistress leave like that-- it was as if he, an ex-Auror, was afraid of the woman! Scrimgeour then felt disgusted at himself for taking 'no' for an answer so easily. He stared out the small window that showed the pale moon, glowing innocently. It cast a ghostlike glow around the room, illuminating what the dim candles did not. Suddenly, a shadow passed the window, causing Scrimgeour's heart to speed up. Odd-- he was underground. Why would Magical Maintenance have a strange shadow pass his window this late at night? Perhaps they had gone home and decided to show what was really outside for the night? But then who passed his window-- that area of the outdoors was always deserted. No one ever walked that way.
The Auror part of Scrimgeour's brain decided that he should go see what it was and he had half-risen from his chair when the other part of his brain told him to stay put.
You've already been weak once tonight, he told himself, Don't do it again!
Reaching his decision, Scrimgeour stood up to full height and Dissaparated from his office. He felt a fraction of a second's worth of pressure rush over his entire body, but then he found himself standing just outside the Ministry of Magic. Cars of Muggles honked on traffic-jammed roads several blocks away and the wind rustled the few trees that were planted along the sidewalk. Scrimgeour ran down the alleyway that he remembered showing through his window and looked around for any sign of movement. There was none.
Feeling a slight sense of foreboding, the Minister pulled his wand from his robe pocket.
"Lumos," he whispered and the tip of his wand lit up. The measly flame lit a short path in front of him and he continued to walk, goosebumps making their appearance upon his skin.
There was a sudden low voice from somewhere in front of him and he lost feeling in his entire body. He dropped his wand as his arms snapped at his sides and his legs pulled together of their own accord. For a moment, he stood, suspended, then toppled over onto his back. Unable to speak or scream, he waited in horror for something to happen.
"Minister," came the same low voice and a dark figure appeared from around a nearby building. Scrimgeour moved his eyes to try and see the shape moving closer. His blood ran cold as soon as he saw who it was. A Death Eater stood before him, wearing long black robes and a skull-like mask, hiding his face from view. The Death Eater took up Scrimgeour's wand and raised his own. The Minister could suddenly feel his body again and he struggled to sit up.
"What do you want?" he asked bravely. The Death Eater laughed softly.
"You know us too well, Minister," he said. "I do, of course, need something from you."
"Well, what is it? You can have all the money you want."
"I do not want money, and neither does the Dark Lord." said the Death Eater. "The Dark Lord requests that you release every Death Eater from Azkaban."
"And why would I do that?" Scrimgeour asked angrily. "I would never do that, not even if you offered me a thousand galleons!"
"How about two-thousand galleons?" the Death Eater offered. "The Dark Lord is willing to give something in return if you cooperate. Guaranteed safety for your family, perhaps?"
"I-- no." said Scrimgeour. He was beginning to worry about what would happen if he kept refusing this Death Eater. A nearby owl hooted.
"No?" said the Death Eater. His mouth curled into a smile from under the mask. "The Dark Lord says I am not to return until I have your word--"
"Well, then, you have it." said Scrimgeour, speaking over the Death Eater. "No."
"You realize that you risk your safety as well as your family's by saying this. Say yes and I can guarantee their safety."
"You cannot," said Scrimgeour, shifting his weight uncomfortably from his place on the ground. The Death Eater sighed, feigning disappointment, and hiding his glee with difficulty. He raised his wand, pointing it at the Minister.
"Incendio!" he shouted and orange flames shot from his wand and ignited Scrimgeour's robes. Scrimgeour yelled in pain as the flames crept over his body, burning his skin and scarring it terribly. Grabbing a fistful of unburned robes, he swatted at the flames, attempting to put them out. The Death Eater watched with enjoyment at the Minister's suffering yells of shock. After what seemed an hour, but was only about sixty seconds, he raised his wand again and said, "Aguamenti."
Water sprouted out of the tip of his wand and sprayed the Minister. The flames hissed and flickered. After a few seconds of this, the flames finally died out and Scrimgeour lay in a heap on the ground, breathing heavily. His entire lower body was burned and boiling and his hands were scarred. Finally, he looked up at the Death Eater with fierce, yellow eyes, looking much like a wounded lion, still ready for battle.
"You think you can break me so easily?" he taunted. "You'll have to do better than that!"
"So I see," said the Death Eater, looking as if this challenge would be fun to meet. "Yes, you are very difficult to sway. Nothing a few Unforgivable Curses can't change, however. Imperio!"
Scrimgeour forgot pain. He forgot the situation at hand. He forgot everything. Being in total bliss was wonderful. The Minister felt as if he were floating along on a light cloud. It became his greatest desire to curl up and fall asleep there-- the most comfortable place ever. Then, a voice in the back of his head, soothing and tuneful came ringing out.
Free the Death Eaters… let them go… free them from Azkaban… let them go…
I will not, said a voice that came from the back of Scrimgeour's head.
Just let them go… free the Death Eaters…
Leave me alone. I will not, said the voice again.
Free the Death Eaters… free them from Azkaban…
"NO!" shouted Scrimgeour. He threw the curse off and caused the Death Eater to stumble backwards a bit. Proudly, Scrimgeour smiled. "You can't command me with the Imperious Curse. I learned how to overpower it when I was an Auror."
"Tricky to get past you, eh?" said the Death Eater, but he didn't sound aggravated-- on the contrary, he sounded as if he were enjoying the task the harder it became. "Not to worry, Minister, you will tell me before the night is over. Now… let's try a stronger spell, shall we?"
He raised his wand and shouted "Crucio!"
Scrimgeour fell back down to the ground and curled himself into a small ball. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He jerked and twitched and screamed. Sweat poured down his face as the spell suddenly intensified two-fold and he began kicking his legs, hoping there were some way out of this agony… this pure torture…
As suddenly as the pain had started, it stopped. Scrimgeour lay on his side, curled into a small ball as if trying to protect himself.
"Will you tell me now? Let the Death Eaters out and this pain will become nothing but a foggy memory in your horrible past."
"N--" the Minister gulped. His entire body shook with the effort to speak. The moon was covered by clouds, making it extremely dark in the narrow alleyway. "Nev-- Never."
The Death Eater smiled.
"Crucio!"
Scrimgeour's own screams filled his ears, louder than the previous time. Pain bolted through his entire body. It felt as if the fire were back. Old wounds suddenly felt fresh and riddled with pain that would not stop. But it did.
"Surely you wish not to feel that again, Minister?" the Death Eater coaxed as he lifted the curse from the Minister. "All you have to do is free my fellow Death Eaters, and you will feel it no more. I'll even put a nice charm on you for a dreamless sleep. You can forget this all until morning."
"I-- I d-don't w-w-want…" said Scrimgeour feebly from his place on the ground. He didn't need to finish his sentence for the Death Eater to understand.
"Then feel pain. I'll be sure to make it worse than last time, just for you, Minister. Cruci--"
"Wait!" Scrimgeour shouted and his lungs felt ready to burst. "I-- I'll d-do it. I g-give you m-my word I-I w-will."
The Death Eater smiled and kneeled next to the weak Minister. Gently, he patted Scrimgeour's shoulder and the man jerked out from underneath him, too sensitive to feel anything but pain when in contact with anything. The moon shifted out from behind the clouds and it's rays hit the Minister. He opened his yellow eyes wearily and gazed into the silver eyes of the Death Eater, who seemed quite happy now that his master got what he wanted.
"You give me your word?" he said gently.
"Y-yes… p-please don't hurt m-me again."
"I will not as long as you do what you promised. And if you don't, I will personally make sure that your family does not survive another day. You swear? You swear under the name of Merlin's beard that you will free the Death Eaters from Azkaban?"
"Yes!" yelled Scrimgeour. "Please leave me!"
"I will," said the Death Eater. He stood up and dropped Scrimgeour's wand several feet away from it's owner, who lay, scarred and in pain on the ground. Just before the Death Eater Dissaparated, he pointed his wand at Scrimgeour once more, putting him in the deep, dreamless sleep he'd promised him. The Minister stopped shivering and his face relaxed.
"I will put in a good word to the Dark Lord about you, Rufus Scrimgeour." said the Death Eater and he turned. With a swish of his long, devilish cloak and a small pop, he disappeared from the alleyway, leaving the Minister to sleep outside until dawn.
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I know Harry's not in this chapter, but bear with me for a little bit. As a warning, the next
chapter is about Draco Malfoy but from then on, it's all about Harry. I just need to get a
few different points out first. Yeah, I'm doing a J.K. Just think of this as what J.K. did in
book six. But chapters three and on are definitely about Harry, I promise. How do I know
this? I've already written the first ten chapters! Just stick with me until then if you're waiting desperately for Harry.
I know there's a lot written down below, but this'll probably be the most you read at the
end of each chapter, so live with me for a little while longer. I'll always have a little
snippet, but I wanted to talk a bit since I haven't been able to since June.
First of all, as you noticed, this story is after the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling. This
is NOT a continuation of my last story 'Harry Potter and the Staff of Merlin'. These are
my thoughts on what happens in the final installment of Harry Potter… after Half-Blood Prince. That means that they probably won't happen in J.K.'s book, so please don't tell
me that so-and-so will never happen. I'll say it again: These are my thoughts.
I want to make this point very clear… people make mistakes. This means that this story
might have typos. You can review to me to point out something wrong, but unless it's a
major mistake, I will probably ignore it. I will nevertheless appreciate your willingness to
help.
Reviews are, of course, welcome here with open and eager arms. However, flames are
just about as welcome as Harry is to Snape. Yeah, Snape hates Harry. Due to the new rule
that review responses are banned, if you leave a signed review, I will take it as a sign that
you want a reply. If you don't want a reply, don't sign in. And if you have a problem with
my story, please, just leave… now. If you absolutely have to say something, leave a
message on my e-mail, not the review board.
Also, in my last story, I had problems with people stealing my ideas and using them as their own (a.k.a. plagiarism). There's no guarantee this problem will occur again, but if you do see something that looks oddly like what I wrote, please e-mail me with the pen-name, title and chapter number of the perpetrator and I will greatly appreciate it.
Also, if you like to keep up with me, keep an eye on my bio page. I update it every once in a while, especially if there's a particular reason I'm taking so long to post. And, if you
want, please visit my brand new C2 archives on I'm Just Wild About Harry. If you like
the stories and are interested in staffing, feel free to e-mail me and I will consider adding
you to my staff list!
That's all I can think of to say. Hopefully, you're not sleeping and drooling on your
keyboard by now. Like I said, this'll be the most you ever hear from me!
Please review.
May broomsticks be in your dreams!
Luv,
Legolas-gurl88
Next chapter: Draco suffers at the hands of Voldemort due to his mistakes. See you
then!