Harry Potter and the Dementor's Kiss
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Notes: Great darkness awaits the Order of the Phoenix this year. Darkness unpredictable and so cruel one shudders to think about it...
Ah yes, thanks, I knew I was getting something wrong!
Chapter Two
Percy Weasley Returns
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Dinner was uneventful, as was the following evening. The next day, Harry woke up an hour before everyone else so that he could take a stroll outside.
The Burrow felt like his second home. He was safe here, and surrounded by... well, they felt like family. They felt like a family he had never known. As he walked about the garden, observing Mrs. Weasley's flowers, he found himself unconsciously wandering to something he kept locked far back in his mind... Sirius Black.
His death had not been like Cedric Diggory's death. Diggory's death had been cruel and malicious; Sirius's death had been swift and painless. However, Harry felt worse about Sirius's death than Cedric Diggory's. In fact, it seemed like he felt worse about Sirius's death than the death of his parents...
It was like Harry was lost, or at least the adventurous part of him was. Harry hated to admit it, but Hermione had been right: Sirius had been trying to live through Harry. Harry didn't feel bad about this, instead, he felt a surge of pity. If only Sirius had been allowed to step outside the house, just one more time before he had died...
"You okay, Harry?" said a voice from behind him. Harry looked, and saw that Ginny Weasley had come out to meet him, still in her pajamas and rubbing her eyes.
"Oh, yeah. I'm–I'm fine. Just needed some air," Harry mumbled.
Ginny looked at him thoughtfully, then said, "You know, he wouldn't have wanted you to go around moping and feeling sorry."
This comment startled Harry; she had seen right through him. But at the same time Harry's mood lightened. "Yeah," said Harry, "I suppose you're right..."
A fluttering in the air caused Harry to look upward—there were five owls heading for the Burrow's kitchen. Normally Harry wouldn't have been able to hear the owls, but Errol's wild flapping made the owls quite obvious.
They walked back into the house together, and as they entered the kitchen they saw Mrs. Weasley preparing breakfast. Harry decided to tread cautiously in this room, not wanting to collide with any of the floating plates making their way from the drying rack back onto the table.
"Mail's on the table, dears," Mrs. Weasley said absently, levitating some spices into her omelet.
There were two letters addressed to Harry. He realized that one had to be his test results. He opened them eagerly.
He had done pretty well. The scores read out like this:
Divination: P (Harry had seen this coming, but didn't care. Divination wasn't required for becoming an Auror.)
Charms: E
Transfiguration: E
Potions: E (Harry looked at this grade with a sinking feeling. Hadn't McGonagall said that Snape didn't allow anything lower than Outstanding into his classes?)
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O (Harry cheered.)
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Herbology: E
Overall: E
Comments from head-of-house: Potter has done well in all of his work (excluding Divination). His wide range of skills enables him to apply for several well-paying jobs. If he tried harder at potions, I'm sure he'd be an excellent Auror. I am especially pleased at his DADA score. (Harry imagined McGonagall giving a wink.) However, it should be stated that Potter has a certain disregard for some school rules.
He turned to look as Ron came down the steps and spotted his mail in Mrs. Weasley's hands. Ron scowled; he had not wanted to have his grades read by Mrs. Weasley (for more or less obvious reasons), but Mrs. Weasley was doing exactly that. She did not seem to approve very much, but Harry supposed that she had some tolerance after seeing Fred and George OWL grades...
"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said critically, "you could definitely do with some improvement." She handed the papers to Ron, then looked at Harry. "May I see? I mean, I respect your decision if you don't want me to look..."
Ron flushed, his ears becoming scarlet.
"Oh, no, you can look if you like," said Harry politely, giving an apologetic shrug in Ron's direction.
As Mrs. Weasley examined his scores a very pleased looking Mr. Weasley entered the room. Upon seeing Mrs. Weasley the grin disappeared from his face; he was trying to hide his glee. Harry figured it had something to do with the computer in the basement.
"Good morning, everyone," he said, seating himself at the table and eyeing the flying dishes warily. "I see that you've all got your supply lists... honestly, it seems as though they come later and later every year..."
"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, who had put down Harry's OWL sheet and had gone back to cooking her omelet. She continued seriously, "Arthur, dear, may we discuss your, er, experiments that have been going on in the basement lately?"
Out of the corner of his eye Harry distinctly saw Arthur pale. The three teenagers quickly excused themselves and dashed out to the side garden before Mrs. Weasley got any more dangerous.
"But I'm concerned about the safety of our children, Arthur," Harry heard Mrs. Weasley say.
"What could possibly go wrong?"
"I recall a certain bewitched car..." Mrs. Weasley said irritably. By now Ginny, Ron, and Harry were all listening intently at the side door, while Ron and Ginny threw pebbles at the lawn gnomes.
"That was different, Molly... this isn't the same thing..."
"Well, what about that self-run lawnmower?"
"I didn't expect it to..."
"Of course you didn't expect it to explode, but you can't control this sort of thing!"
Harry blinked at this bit of information, and Ron gestured toward a large patch of dead, black grass under a window to the side of them. Harry suddenly understood, playing out a fairly accurate mental picture in his mind.
Soon the three of them became bored of listening to Mrs. Weasley chew her husband out, and they started playing with lawn gnomes, throwing them at each other. Ron convinced Harry that this was okay, in fact, the gnomes even seemed to enjoy this rough treatment.
Three gnomes had latched their little razor-sharp teeth into Harry's leg, while two had gotten Ron's leg and another two had stuck onto his arm.
Finally breakfast was ready. Nothing fascinating happened during breakfast, except that Fred and George apparated into their chairs, startling Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley screeched and several of the plates which had been washing themselves faltered; one or two of the plates crashed to the floor. Mrs. Weasley gave them a good mouthing off.
Also during breakfast Harry discovered that they would all be going to Diagon Alley the next day, since tomorrow was a special discount day at the bookstore, and for their sixth year they had to order a heavy amount of books. Among there were: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6; The Advanced Book of Spells, Grade 1; Class B Magical Creatures; and How to React toward Hidden/Surprise Attackers: A Defense Against the Dark Arts Book for Celebrities and Important Wizards/Witches. The last book had a really hefty title; Harry wondered how it would ever fit on the book cover.
After breakfast Hermione arrived, and as they went upstairs she began a long-winded explanation of how not many people were selfless enough to admit that house-elves deserved respect from their master wizards, and she criticized each and every one of the people who she saw scoff at her large SPEW poster.
Finally Harry had to give in to his conscience. "Listen, Hermione," he started. "Remember last year, when you made all those hats and socks for the house-elves, and you hid them?"
"Yes," she said cheerfully, despite the fact that her SPEW campaign at Diagon Alley had been a complete failure.
"Well, it turns out that Dobby was..." but Harry couldn't finish his sentence, as there was a loud knock at the front door and Harry heard a voice, which Harry had once remembered as snotty and indignant, now humbled and sorry.
"Mum? Mum, you home? Dad?"
Harry couldn't quite put a finger on whom it was, but Ron and Ginny could immediately. "Percy!" whispered Ron. He narrowed his eyes. "What could he possibly want?" Harry remembered the letter that Percy had sent to Ron about Dumbledore and himself, and guessed that Ron remembered it as well. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ran back downstairs.
Slowly the door crept open, revealing Percy. Despite being in a family not well off, Percy usually could keep himself well groomed and clean. But now he looked dirty and unkempt. He looked as if he had been attacked by something.
Upon hearing Percy's voice Mrs. Weasley rushed into the room. She gave a disapproving glance at his attire, but this look quickly vanished and she ran over to hug him. "Oh Percy, I knew you'd come around!"
Percy accepted this affection from Mrs. Weasley, and gave her a light peck on the cheek. He really did look grateful that he was back, but he looked like he wanted to go to sleep more than anything.
Suddenly Mr. Weasley appeared in the doorway of the stairs which led to the basement. He looked at Percy, who in turn looked at his feet (one could only guess what Percy's feet were looking at). "Glad you're back," Mr. Weasley said after a moment of silence. Harry knew what Mr. Weasley was really thinking—Percy's information regarding Fudge will be great for the Order of the Phoenix...
Harry studied Percy more closely. Percy was wearing a cloak on which the bottom foot of it had been ripped off. His tie hung to the side and his hair was disheveled. His face was covered with residue, as if he had stuck his face in a fireplace. His lower lip was bleeding in two different places, and one of his eyes were black. But it wasn't Percy's appearance that made Harry uneasy... It was more like his—well, Harry couldn't tell. But there was something drained about Percy...
"I'll put on the tea," said Mrs. Weasley. "You should go get yourself cleaned up, Percy." Percy nodded, obeying without argument.
Quietly, Hermione spoke exactly what Harry was thinking. "Don't you think there's something... strange... about him?"
"Of course!" snapped Ron quickly, "I mean, the nerve of him to just come barging in here looking like that, I'm surprised mum didn't send him back where he came with a nice kick in the—"
"No, Ron. I'm talking about... well, he just seemed different, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah," said Harry softly. "I know exactly what you mean."
Ron shrugged, evidently clueless. "Who's up for a game of wizard's chess?"
Harry, Hermione, and Ginny then proceeded to lose in six consecutive games of wizard's chess, before it was time for tea. They found Percy already downstairs and sipping his tea. He gave not one look in Harry's direction, nor his father's direction.
"So..." started Mrs. Weasley politely...
"I was fired," confessed Percy, in a flat tone. "Fudge fired me, that good for nothing son-of-a—"
"Fired!?" exclaimed Ron. "I thought you were Fudge's favorite... er... thing!" he ended lamely, as Percy gave him a mournful look.
"Fudge's mind works in... unique ways," he said simply.
"Yes, we are quite aware of that," Mr. Weasley spoke up, but still Percy avoided his glance. "Even though we already knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, we're," (and by "we're" Arthur obviously was referring to the Order of the Phoenix) "quite baffled that Fudge has actually confessed his return."
"Well," said Percy darkly, "there are many reasons Fudge has been fearing his return, the most of which would be Fudge's demotion."
Harry wondered what Fudge's demotion had to do with anything.
Mr. Weasley was intrigued by this new fact. "You don't say..."
Hermione sipped her tea rather quickly, and then pulled Harry, Ron, and Ginny (which was amazing since she only had two arms) away from the table, not caring that their tea had been forgotten.
"Hey!" hissed Ron. "What's this about?"
"Shh!" said Hermione. "Did you hear to what Percy said?"
"Yeah," said Ron, "he got fired..."
"No, not that!" Hermione had an exasperated tone. "I mean about Fudge..."
"His mind works in mysterious ways?" Harry guessed. She turned on him.
"Honestly, Harry, I'd at least think you'd have listened."
"I know!" said Ginny. "It was about Fudge being demoted... right? But, why would Fudge be demoted if You-Know-Who returned? It doesn't seem related at all."
Hermione looked impressed. "Exactly! And here's why I think he would: Because the Ministry of Magic has to tell lies, or whatever they have to in order to keep the people happy. So if they announced something like Voldemort's return, that would be exactly not what the Ministry wants. See, listen—the Ministry want people to hear what they want to hear. That's where they get help from The Daily Prophet."
"Well, that's obvious, I knew that already," said Ron truthfully.
"There's more," said Hermione. "Other ministers have already been fired after revealing the truth." She seemed to pull a book out of nowhere. "See, look," she muttered, skimming the pages. "Reagan Love III... fired after confessing that the Ministry had hired dementors to work the prisons. Richard Merron, fired after admitting that the Ministry had a werewolf hired in the Control of Magical Creatures department."
"But Fudge hasn't been fired because...?" Ron inquired.
"Because he has certain tie-ins keeping him in office, maybe even bribing other people to encourage them that he should stay Minister," Hermione exclaimed, excitedly.
"Lucius Malfoy!" said Harry of-a-sudden.
"Exactly!"
Even a look of understanding dawned on Ron's face. "Oohhh...."
"Because Lucius is a Death Eater, and he wants Fudge to keep telling people lies about Voldemort!" Hermione finished. She seemed bursting with glee at this sudden realization.
"But... but, Lucius is in prison, isn't he?" Ron wondered.
"Yes, but there could be other Death Eaters..." said Hermione.
"Working for the Ministry? Hmm..." said Ginny thoughtfully.
"Or," Harry realized, remembering what his "dreams" had told him the previous year, "There are people under the Imperius curse..."
"But who?" wondered Ron.
"Percy Weasley!" finished Hermione triumphantly.
The three of them stared at her, unable to tell whether she was fool or genius. One thing was sure—they would be keeping a close watch on Percy for the time being. Hermione had described the symptoms of Imperius in great detail. "He's perfect for the spell," said Ron, shaking his head. "He never had any will of his own."