Chapter Title: Powerful News

Author: Sam

Story: Harry Potter and Dumbledore's Army: 03 / ?

Chapter Setting: Sunday, August 8, 1995: 12 Grimmuld Place, London

Chapter Summary: Lunch at Grimmuld Place proves enlightening.

Feedback: Please? I love comments.

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Harry thought Stephen would've been moved on the next day, but there he was at luncheon sitting and studying The Daily Prophet while nibbling a fresh roll. Immediately Harry's animosity towards the man returned and he sank onto a chair three down, grabbing a roll and methodically shredding it.

"You don't like me," Stephen commented, his manner calm but those electric blue eyes haunted.

Tossing the desecrated roll to his plate, Harry glared at the too-thin Dursely-ish look a-like. "Yeah." He said. "You could say that." He clenched his fists, waiting for the questions, the indignation, the defense. What he got was:

"I'm sorry." Stephen's voice softened, his Scots burr deepening, and he looked down at his plate. "I heard about James and Lily last night."

"Last night?" Harry felt confusion push away his anger. "What do you mean last night? It's only been news for fourteen years now." Harry wondered just what this man was trying to pull.

Stephen looked up and nodded, golden curls bouncing. "Yes, I heard that, too, but I've been out of the wizarding community for going on twenty years now. Albus never once mentioned the killings," bitterness infused the man's voice.

Shock coursed through Harry and he shook his head, unable to believe that someone could have been ignorant of the rise and supposed fall of Voldemort. Before he could challenge Stephen's claims, or the idea that Dumbledore had deliberately kept him in the dark, Molly Weasley led the rest of the house's inhabitants into the vast kitchen, effectively shutting down the conversation: the Order was an off limits topic in front of Ginny.

When Ron saw what lay before Stephen he gave an exasperated glare at the man. Everyone there knew the Prophet had printed lies about Harry and Albus all summer. "Do you enjoy that paper then?"

Harry felt vindicated once more in his animosity, mentally thanking Ron for the reminder that Stephen wasn't one of them.

Looking up from his plate, Stephen glanced noncommittally at the paper then shrugged. "The paper's been printing garbage for years if I can judge by back issues Remus let me have."

With a loud 'humph,' Molly expressed her opinion of the paper's worth, but Stephen merely offered her a cherubic smile. "Look . . . Molly, right?"

Surprised, Molly straightened. "Oh dear, we never introduced you round did we, dear? Oh, well, better late than never." And as she passed out plates and soup bowls, Molly named off each teen. "These are my boys: Fred and George and . . ."

"George and Fred . . ." the twins corrected in unison.

Molly slapped lightly at the closest, Fred by Harry's estimation, and continued. "And Ron is mine . . . and Ginny. All Weasleys."

"Yeah," added George, "notice a theme?"

Stephen offered a smile once more. "Not afraid to speak your minds?"

That earned a laugh from the group and Molly slid a plate across the table. "Hermione Granger and this'll be Harry Potter." A bowl appeared on Harry's plate while he watched Stephen for his reaction.

Again Stephen did something Harry didn't expect. He grinned. "Well, that's a relief then."

"Excuse me?" asked Harry as even Molly looked surprised.

"Well," grinned Stephen, electric eyes seeming to light in unholy glee. "I'd have expected the Potters to produce a fighter and not the die-away milksop this lot want me to believe." He tapped the newssheet. "You've been fighting since I met you, probably a lot longer than that. Now you channel that spirit and you'll be unstoppable."

Molly slammed the soup ladle against the huge pot and cleared her throat, reminding them that certain conversation was inappropriate. Stephen went on anyway as Sirius walked into the room accompanied by Remus.

"Look, these papers say Harry is a diva with a 'poor little me' complex and possibly even Munchausen's Syndrome."

"What's that then?" Molly snatched the hated paper from Stephen and started desperately searching it.

"Munchausen's Syndrome is a muggle-diagnosed mental illness in which the patient hurts himself for attention." Stephen turned to Harry as protests of 'disgusting' and 'ludicrous' circulated around the table. "And they say Albus is little better than a dotty old grandfather type who needs diapers and spoon-feeding." The image that Stephen's words conjured had even Molly's lips twitching as she tossed the offensive paper back to the table.

"What they don't say," Stephen added, "is just how anti-muggle sentiment had risen about thirty-eight percent since June." Nodding at the surprised and worried expressions, he continued "or how there have been infusions of money in some pockets while others are bleeding out."

"Huh?" Ron reached for the paper but Molly headed him off, grabbing it and folding it under her arm. "No Order business outside of Order meetings, Stephen." Her tone was icy.

With a shake of his curly head, Stephen continued in his patient tone. "It's not Order business, Molly. It's Harry's business."

Harry felt an unexpected surge of gratitude towards the man for his defense.

"It's everyone's business. What gets written in the paper?" he questioned.

"The news," spat Molly in disgust. She sloshed soup over the edge of George's bowl and nearly burned his hand but was so agitated she hadn't noticed.

Stephen stood and leaned over to slide the paper from the crook of Molly's elbow. "The paper doesn't print news or it would have printed just how Harry knew Voldemort is back." A gasp sounded from Molly. "The paper really prints what it's paid to print. Subscriptions don't count for half what a paper makes in costs. It's advertisements, investors, and backers that really write the stories. The reporters give the articles catchy words to draw interest and cloud reality, selling more papers."

Molly shook her head, ladle sloshing into the pot and sending Ginny ducking a wave of broth and cubed chicken. "Then why read it, Stephen?" the woman asked.

Stephen surprised them with a laugh which caused Sirius to screw his face painfully while Remus visibly paled. "Because we find out just what the backers want the people to believe. We can tell just who is controlling the press by what's printed." He tossed the current issue on the table and reached for an older one on a pile Harry hadn't noticed before. "For instance," Stephen gestured to the article Rita Skeeter had written about Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. "After knowing Hermione and Harry for half a day, I can tell immediately that this entire sob story about fainting continually and being over-turned for another boy is complete rot."

Molly flushed; she had fallen for that particular rot last term.

Grabbing another paper, Stephen checked the exposed article quickly then rolled his eyes in his round face. "And this even older one about how Sirius killed muggles and a wizard . . . Seriously?"

The twins snickered but Sirius lifted his dark head, studying the blond man through narrowed eyes.

"How could anyone who knows Sirius believe he'd kill a load of defenseless muggles?"

Leaning forward, testing Stephen's reactions, Harry asked "have you gotten to the one that tells you how he betrayed my parents and gave them up to Voldemort?"

"What!" Stephen jumped to his feet, rage and horror suddenly twisting his features. For an instant . . . just an instant . . . the man looked more like James Potter than Vernon Dursley. But the image was lost as Stephen shook his head violently, fingers toying rapidly with the woven wristband. "Sirius Black join Voldemort? Kill . . . James . . . Pot . . . "

Stephen began to laugh, an hysterical edge to the sound. He slipped into his seat and buried his face in his hands. Soon he was laughing so hard he was sobbing, his entire body shaking.

Everyone looked at one another, unsure how to react to this strange behavior. Sirius looked at Harry then instantly looked anywhere else, a flush creeping up his weathered face.

"Absolutely nutters," breathed Fred, a look of fascination on his pointed face.

"Yeah, positively," added George, equally enthralled.

Remus stepped over to the distraught man, as it had become apparent that Stephen's laughter had turned to grief. The werewolf helped the younger man to rise, slipping an arm around his shoulders, and guided him from the room.

After a long uncomfortable moment, Hermione cleared her throat. "This looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley. I love chicken and broccoli soup."

Everyone murmured overly hearty agreement and began to eat, but Harry had lost his appetite. Stephen reacted to the Potter deaths like he'd only just learned of them. With a guilty start, Harry recalled Stephen saying just such a thing before the others showed up. Had Dumbledore really been keeping news of Voldemort and the mass murders secret from Stephen while visiting on holidays? Harry felt sick to his stomach and pushed away his untouched soup. Just who were these people Dumbledore was calling out of hiding? Would they really be any help to the Order? Could they really bring about the downfall of the most evil wizard of the modern age?

Reviewing Stephen's emotional display, Harry had his doubts.

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To be continued in Chapter Four: Dream Keeper