Chapter 4 – Witches Weekly

Harry noticed several people gathered around the House announcement board when he came down in the morning. He wandered over to see what notice had been posted.

Ginny Weasley smiled at him. "Hi Harry! Quidditch try-outs are scheduled. I'm sure you're ready to pick up being the Seeker again."

Harry was surprised that he hadn't thought about Quidditch at all this term. Umbridge banned him from flying last year and he hadn't received notice that it had been rescinded. "I'll have to check with Professor McGonagall first to see whether the ban has been reversed. I love flying, but with so much happening, you might be our best hope for the House Cup, Ginny." He grinned at the pleased blush that flooded her cheeks.

Ginny tried to shift the focus from herself. "We better hurry to breakfast before Ron eats it all. He left before you came downstairs."

On the way to the Great Hall, Harry noticed more of the other students acting oddly. He was used to being stared at as either The-Boy-Who-Lived or as the unstable attention seeker, but many of the looks he was getting were either speculative or downright predatory. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, he hurried Ginny along.

Ron glanced up from shoveling food on his plate as Harry sat down opposite him. "Morning Harry. Did you see the Quidditch announcement? "

Harry snatched a couple of sausages from the platter before they were gone and reached for the toast. "I'll have to speak with Professor McGonagall about Quidditch this year. But if I don't play, Ginny makes a great Seeker."

Ron stopped chewing and looked at Harry with shock. "Not play? But…you have to play, mate! I mean, Ginny's good, but you're our best hope for beating the Slytherins. As much as I dislike Malfoy, he's a bloody good Seeker."

"Language, Ron" Hermione muttered without looking up from her text book.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You have to play though, Harry. You would probably make Captain this year."

"Let's see what happens when I speak with Professor McGonagall. No promises. I don't even know what they did with my Firebolt after Umbridge confiscated it. Knowing her, she probably burned it." He didn't bother to hide his disgust of the toad-faced woman.

Ron's stopped midway to his mouth with a forkful of sausage. "Oh blimey, Harry. She wouldn't have…would she? Not a Firebolt!"

"No idea, Ron. I'll speak with Professor McGonagall and let you know." He paused feeling as if someone was looking at him. He casually glanced around the table and then around the room. He met Malfoy's intense stare before the blonde-haired young man turned away and began speaking to Blaise Zanbini beside him. "What is with Malfoy staring at us?" he muttered.

To his surprise, Hermione heard him and responded. "He does seem to be making a habit of it, doesn't he?"

"It's just getting on my nerves and makes me think he's planning something" Harry groused.

"Probably is, that bloody Ferret!" mumbled Ron around his toast. "You can never trust him."

"Language, Ron." Hermione looked at Malfoy as if evaluating him. "He still isn't wearing his usual pompous sneer. If I had to put a description on him, I would say he is either worried or…"

When Hermione paused and blushed, Harry prompted "Or what?"

The young woman shook her head. "Never mind, it's silly." No amount of teasing from either Ron or Harry could persuade her to continue her thought out loud; that he looked ravenous.


One of the first years gave Harry a folded parchment when he returned to the Common room following his afternoon classes. Opening it, he found his note to Professor McGonagall with "Approved for this afternoon upon completion of classes. M. McGonagall" written at the bottom of his request.

He returned to the Gryffindor dorm and changed into black trousers and a green silk shirt. Ron and Neville came in as he finished dressing.

"Profession McGonagall gave me permission to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon to get my new scales. Can I get either of you anything while I'm there?" Neither of his friends needed anything, so he said goodbye and let them know he would be back later.

At Dervish & Banges on High Street, Harry found several brass scales. The set he bought in his first year was inexpensive and appropriate for a first year potion student, measuring up to 50 mg. Now he perused scales capable of measuring as little as 20 mg and as much as 500 mg.

He finally settled on a 500 mg set that came with a hardwood carrying case. The scale's components and weight set all fit neatly inside the box's velvet-line drawer. A divider in the drawer separated the weight set from the scale mechanism.

The portly shop keeper smiled at Harry and nodded approvingly. "A fine set, that one is young sir. It can be assembled in less than a minute. That is a scale a Potions Master would appreciate. You're welcome to try it on the counter."

Harry opened the hardwood box and began assembling the scale, pleased with the quality of the pieces. He tested the measurements by weighing some coins as well as a quill resting on the counter. Happy with the ease of assembly and the accuracy of the scales, Harry purchased the set, then cast a spell to shrink the box and stored it in his pocket.

"I should go back to school for dinner" he thought even as his feet turned towards the Three Broomsticks. He stepped inside and sniffed cautiously to see what Madame Rosmerta was serving today.

The attractive thirty-something witch looked up from the counter where she was reading the Daily Prophet and greeted him with a smile. "Come in, dear. What can I get for you this fine evening?"

Harry looked around and noticed only two tables had occupants; a couple with two young children was just finishing their meal while a dark-haired woman half in the shadows sat alone and sipped from a teacup. Harry smiled at Madame Rosmerta and moved to the counter, sitting down on one of the wooden stools.

"A butterbeer please. What is your special tonight? I'm not sure whether I want to wait until I get back to Hogwarts to eat dinner."

"We've got a nice pork loin in a sweet apple sauce tonight. Our vegetables are roast potatoes and glazed carrots." When Harry hesitated, she smiled and said "I'll get your drink while you think about it."

After she brought him the butterbeer, she turned back to the newspaper. "Oh, here's a picture of the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scourgeour. Isn't he a formidable looking gent? And look at that…he's keeping Cornelius Fudge as an advisor."

Harry snorted and then looked embarrassed at Madame Rosmerta's arched eyebrow. When he didn't comment she continued "Well, as a former Auror, I hope he'll round up those Death Eaters better than Fudge did."

Harry smiled at the friendly woman. "One can only hope. However, I've learned not to get my hopes up too high too soon where some members of the Ministry are involved."

"Do you have reason not to trust Minister Scourgeour?"

Harry mentally cursed himself for even opening his mouth. "I've never met the gentleman, which is why I am at least cautiously optimistic."

Over his shoulder, Harry heard "Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

He turned to find a dark-haired matronly woman dressed in stylish navy robes looking at him curiously. "I'm sorry to intrude, but you are Harry Potter, are you not?"

Harry avoided voicing the sigh he gave mentally. He wondered whether she wanted to shake his head, ask for his autograph, or chastise him for some inaccurate portrayal that appeared in the Daily Prophet. However, he replied courteously "Yes ma'am, I'm Harry Potter."

The woman gave him a friendly smile. "I do beg your pardon for intruding, Mr. Potter. My name is Amelia Reinholdt. I should say up front that I'm a reporter for Witches Weekly magazine. While I wasn't attempting to eavesdrop on your conversation, I couldn't help but overhear your comment and I admit to being curious about why The-Boy-Who-Lived holds such a skeptical view of the Minister."

Harry looked at her warily, but noticed her appraisal was mainly curious rather than the predatory expression Rita Skeeter always wore.

"Miss or Mrs. Reinholdt" he began.

"Missus" the older woman smiled. "My youngest son is a few years older than you, Mr. Potter."

He returned the easy smile she gave him. "Mrs. Reinholdt, I am not a political figure and have no interest in holding any type of public office. I have another year at Hogwarts before I'll even be a legal adult. However, while I'm too young to vote in political elections, I still can evaluate public officials based on my experience with them." His voice became firm. "But my opinions are personal; I had no intention of expressing them in a public forum."

"I can understand that, Mr. Potter. I only wish my youngest son paid attention to what happens in the world at large rather than his small circle of friends and co-workers." She looked at him with a motherly gaze. "May I ask off the record what reason Harry Potter has to be wary of the Minister of Magic?"

Harry considered her carefully. He was well aware that Rita Skeeter wouldn't honor an "off the record" comment, but didn't know about Amelia Reinholdt. He nearly declined to comment, until Ortinoth brass voice rang in his mind.

"Autgabin, for years you thought yourself weak if you exposed the evil done to you. Has the Clan taught you nothing? Will you permit others to harm those in their care with impunity in violation of the First Law?"

"Ortinoth..I…" Harry stopped and gave the question serious consideration and felt the approval from his lowaar for putting aside his instinctive reactions to evaluate the question logically. After several long moments he responded "You are correct, isohon'naflosola. Fudge and Umbridge did act with malicious intent towards being weaker than themselves. If I speak up, I may prevent harm them from harming others as they harmed me."

The lowaar's interwoven harmonies echoed in his mind. "You bring pride to the Clan, ghergo'ir."

"Only through the strength the Clan provides, isohon'iri".

Harry returned his attention to the woman before him. "Mrs. Reinholdt, you said you have a son only a few years older than I am now?" At her nod, he continued "How would you have felt if he was tried for simply protecting himself from Dementors while away from school? How would you have felt if at fifteen years old, he was publicly portrayed as mentally unstable and a liar because he described events that occurred? What if those events could have been validated through Pensieve memories, but no one bothered to do so, but instead encouraged publications to report what an attention-seeking liar your son was?"

He saw a shift in her attitude from reporter to mother and pressed his advantage. "Look at my hand, Mrs. Reinholdt. Do you see these scars? A Ministry official forced me to use a Blood Quill that sliced my skin open for "telling lies" about Voldemort's return. That same Ministry employee threatened me with the Cruciatus Curse."

At her shocked gasp, he nodded. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? But that Ministry official is still employed by the Ministry and has had no charges pressed against her."

The obvious sincerity in his eyes would have convinced a much less compassionate person. "Tell me Mrs. Reinholdt, would you be likely to automatically trust the officials that consistently behaved in such a manner if you were me?"

Her warm brown eyes searched his face with a quiet intensity. "These are serious allegations, Mr. Potter. Would you sit with me and tell me more? It will be off the record unless you tell me otherwise."

Did he want his opinions published? Was he willing to face the aftermath of dong so? Was he willing to risk speaking with another reporter? "Do you use a Quick-Quote quill, ma'am? Or do you write down what I've actually said? I've seen too many stories use quotes I've never said. I hope you understand my hesitation after so many inaccurate and deliberately misleading stories about me."

The dark-haired woman gave an inelegant snort. "You must be talking about Rita Skeeter. How she can have a by-line on anything but a gossip column is beyond me. No Mr. Potter, if you give me permission to tell your story, then it would be in your own words."

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "If you would give me the same consideration you would give your own son, then I would be willing ma'am." He slid off his stool and faced her, holding out his arm politely to one of the empty tables. "Why don't we have a seat at one of the tables?"

It was several hours before he returned to Hogwarts and by then he had given his permission to Mrs. Reinholdt.


Two days later, the morning mail delivered the latest edition of Witches Weekly along with the Daily Prophet. Mrs. Reinholdt had mailed him a copy of the article the previous day, which he shared with Hermione, Ron and Neville.

He met their eyes and quickly hid his nervous expression behind his glass of pumpkin juice as he watched Lavender Brown eagerly peruse the publication from across the table and two seats down.

As she turned the page, she stopped at a picture of Harry. The attractive dark-haired young man's emerald green eyes sparkled up from the page as he stood by a table and chair wearing an obviously silk shirt that matched his eyes. A dragon belt buckle was just visible as he leaned forward in the picture to shake hands with a middle-aged woman and then sat down and offered a pleasant smile.

"Harry! There's an article about you!"

He smiled innocently at the excited young woman and turned back to his breakfast, while Lavender shared the magazine article with an equally interested Parvati Partil.

Boy-Who-Lived Repeatedly Wronged by Ministry of Magic

By Amelia Reinholdt

The public has frequently vacillated between adoration of Harry Potter and suspicion based on the wildly disparate stories that have been published since the he reappeared in the public eye at the age of eleven when he began to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is no surprise that Mr. Potter hesitates to speak with any journalist after his experiences over the years. It took some persuasion to convince the handsome teenager to speak to this reporter. What follows is the interview verbatim.

WW: Thank you for speaking with me, Mr. Potter.

HP: Thank you for agreeing not to use a Quick Quill and for understanding my hesitation to speak to journalists these days, ma'am.

WW: Last year, you were brought before the Wizengamot for underage use of magic. Would you mind describing what happened?

HP: It was during the summer before my fifth year at Hogwarts and I was in a Muggle park with my cousin. Two Dementors attacked us. My cousin is a Muggle with no defense against them. The only way I could drive them off was with a Patronus. I was prosecuted for casting the spell that saved the life of my cousin and my own life.

WW: Firstly, congratulations on casting a Patronus at such a young age. Secondly, what happened after you drove away the Dementors?

HP: Thank you, ma'am. I owe the credit to Professor Remus Lupin who taught DADA in my third year. Regarding what happened next, I received a letter stating that I was expelled from Hogwarts and that someone would be arriving shortly to destroy my wand. Interestingly, the Ministry doesn't have the power to expel students nor to confiscate wands without benefit of a hearing. I was summoned to the Ministry of Magic and charged before the entire Wizengamot.

WW: When my son accidentally used magic outside of school, he was investigated by a single member of DMLE.

HP: (with a warm chuckle) Fortunately for him, his name wasn't Harry Potter.

WW: Surely Dementors would be considered extenuating circumstances and the underage spell permitted?

HP: The prosecutor, an Undersecretary at the Ministry and Minister Fudge both denied that there were any Dementors and insisted that I was lying. Only after eye-witness evidence by a neighbor corroborated my testimony was I cleared of the charges.

WW: Did anyone discover how and why the Dementors were in the area?

HP: Not immediately. However, last year, the same Undersecretary came to Hogwarts, theoretically as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Multiple people heard her admit that she deliberately sent the Dementors in the hopes that they would give me "The Kiss" for insisting that Voldemort had returned. She perceived me as a threat for undermining the Ministry's official position that he had not returned.

WW: Why do you say she was "theoretically" the DADA instructor? Which Undersecretary was it?

HP: Delores Umbridge by name. She refused to allow anyone to cast any spells in the DADA class. We were only allowed to read the textbook. Considering it was an O.W.L. year, we could all have failed. And considering that Voldemort is indeed alive and active, the consequences are even more alarming for not knowing how to defend ourselves.

WW: I noticed that you started to rub your hand as you spoke. Why is that?

HP: (looking uncomfortable) The Undersecretary liked to use a Blood Quill on students in her detentions. She was trying to force me to recant my statement that Voldemort was alive. My hand is permanently scarred with "I must not tell lies".

WW: For our readers, would you describe what a Blood Quill is?

HP: I'm sorry to say that I can describe it. It is an extremely sharp Dark Arts writing instrument enchanted to use the writer's blood in place of ink. It gouges the words written with it on the hand of the writer. She had me write that sentence hundreds of times.

WW: And you were forced to use this quill because you refused to withdraw your statement about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being alive and gathering his forces again?

HP: A name becomes feared when it is avoided, ma'am. I refuse to give Tom that satisfaction. I will say Voldemort or Tom Riddle plainly. But yes, I was required to use it day after day until I was permanently scarred.

WW: What charges have been brought against this Ministry official?

HP: None that I know of. (In a much quieter voice) The Ministry doesn't like to acknowledge its mistakes.

WW: Why do you say that?

HP: Sirius Black comes to mind.

WW: Sirius Black, the mass murderer who escaped from Azkaban?

HP: No, Sirius Black, the innocent man that was sentenced to Azkaban without a trial. He was accused of betraying my parent's location to Voldemort. My parents and a dozen other people perished in the attack, allegedly including my parent's friend, Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black, the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black was not even tried. If there had been a thorough investigation, Veritaserum could have shown he wasn't my parent's Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper and he betrayed my parents to Voldemort, then cut off his own finger as supposed evidence of his demise. Pensieve memories could also have proven that Sirius didn't participate in the attack and how he confronted Pettigrew. But there was no trial, no investigation, and no opportunity to prove his innocence. He was unjustly imprisoned for a decade, left to rot with the Dementors. Last year, several people saw Peter Pettigrew, but the case wasn't reopened… (his voice breaks).

WW: Are you all right Mr. Potter?

HP: (drinks water). Yes, thank you for your concern. Last year, Sirius Black - my godfather - died fighting Death Eaters, so it's too late for him now. He should never have been imprisoned without a trial. He should never have spent one-third of his life punished and vilified for crimes he didn't commit. He…he loved my parents and he loved me. And now he's gone.

WW: Much of this was done under Cornelius Fudge. You realize that Rufus Scrimgeour replaced him as the Minister of Magic?

HP: Yes, I've heard that. Although I also heard that Cornelius Fudge was kept on in an "advisory" capacity. (The young man sighed deeply). Ma'am, I've learned over the years that words mean little without the actions to support them. Members of the Ministry imprisoned an innocent wizard and Head of an ancient House without a trial and did nothing to rectify the situation. Members of the Ministry tried to prosecute me for saving my life and that of my cousin when it was a Ministry official who sent the Dementors to attack me, and they made no effort to investigate how it happened. Members of the Ministry went out of their way to depict me as an unstable liar for relating nothing more than the truth, which was later proven. Their lack of action permitted Voldemort to grow in strength, power and followers. The Ministry sent Umbridge to Hogwarts, who repeatedly persecuted and even tortured the students with no repercussions. Did you know she threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on students in front of witnesses? Will Minister Scrimgeour turn the Ministry around? I can only say that I sincerely hope that we will see consistently honorable actions from the new administration.

WW: Have you had good experiences with any officials at the Ministry, Mr. Potter?

HP: I have the greatest respect and admiration for Arthur Weasley and Amelia Bones as well as the most of the Aurors I've had the pleasure to meet.

WW: What advice would you offer our readers if you could suggest one thing?

HP: I would suggest that your readers be proactive in protecting their families, friends and neighbors from Death Eater attacks. Brush up on how to defend against curses and hexes and practice as a family. Strengthen the wards around your home. Be aware of your environment. Live safely, but don't permit fear to rule your lives.

WW: Thank you for speaking with me, Mr. Potter.

HP: Thank you ma'am. I appreciate your time and courtesy.

Editor's Note: When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was seen by many witnesses in the Ministry several months ago, it became evident that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been telling the truth about his return for a year. It raised many questions about why former Minister Fudge had been attempting to discredit both public figures. Less than two weeks after You-Know-Who's public appearance, Fudge was replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour, former Head of the Auror's office.


Harry expected an official response the following day, so was mildly surprised to be summoned to the Headmaster's office during the mid-day meal. He schooled his face to the impassive mask he had learned to wear as he climbed the stairs, surprised to find the door open. He paused on the landing and heard "…a hundred Howlers so far this morning. It is a distraction when our energy should go elsewhere."

Harry smirked and then hid his expression as he entered the room. The Headmaster sat behind his desk and an older man stood nearby, evaluating the Gryffindor with shrewd eyes as Harry came into the room.

"Minister, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Minister Rufus Scrimgeour. He wanted to ask for a few minutes of your time." The Headmaster gave nothing away with his mild tone of voice.

The former Head of the Auror Office and new Minister of Magic looked a great deal like a dangerous albeit aged lion. He had a mane of yellowish brown hair that was streaked with gray. Bushy eyebrows topped the tawny eyes clearly visible behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He took several steps towards Harry and offered his hand in a handshake, showing that although he walked with a slight limp, he still had the grace of a predator.

"Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to meet such a well-known celebrity."

Harry grimaced slightly at the description, but shook hands firmly, noting that although the other man smiled, it did not reach his eyes. "Minister Scrimgeour."

"Please, let's all sit down" the Headmaster said with a genial smile and gestured towards the chairs. Harry motioned for the Minister to precede him and then sat down himself.

"Mr. Potter, it pains me to admit that you have had a difficult time with the former administration. I wanted to acknowledge that and let you know that I am now leading the Ministry." He paused to watch Harry expectantly, so the younger man nodded to indicate that he was listening. "It is important for the well-being of the country and the wizarding community that the Ministry and prominent figures come together in a spirit of cooperation. The country needs to see harmony among those they look up to." He smiled genially at the Gryffindor. "You are in a unique position to boost the morale of a fearful public, young man."

Harry kept his face impassive and his tone civil. "What are you asking of me, Minister?"

Scrimgeour smiled at how effortlessly the conversation seemed to be going. "I think it would be in the public's best interests if you published another interview offering a measure of hope and confidence to the general populace, rather than spreading fear and dissension. Public finger-pointing and discord serves no one's best interest except Voldemort's."

Harry tipped his head at the older man. "Will the Ministry publish a formal apology to the Black family for imprisoning an innocent man without a trial, Minister?"

Scrimgeour frowned at the question. "What is past is past, Mr. Potter. The past cannot be changed."

"No sir, but acknowledgement of past errors and a promise not to repeat them would go a long way towards healing a breech, Minister."

"Are you saying a second interview is contingent upon a formal apology? I will need to ask the Minstry's attorneys before authorizing it."

Harry fought to keep the contempt from his voice. Right and wrong weren't always black and white, but they were in this situation. "Of course, Minister. I can understand wanting to protect the Ministry's reputation and employees. It is a shame the same consideration was not given to my godfather."

The Minister narrowed his eyes and his face hardened. Harry could see that this man had been an Auror by his commanding no-nonsense attitude. Before he could respond, Harry asked another question. "Minister, is there an investigation underway into Delores Umbridge's actions? Sending a Dementor to a Muggle neighborhood to attack a juvenile; for using a Dark Arts torture instrument on students or for the threat to use Unforgivables on students?"

"Mr. Potter, what the public needs is to see healing, not opposition. It could be argued that you have a duty to help your fellow witches and wizards by being willing to work together to defeat Voldemort. He is the enemy here, Mr. Potter, not the Ministry."

Harry looked at the grim-faced man with a cool expression. "My duty, as I see it, has to do with honor, with justice and with defeating Voldemort in such a manner that he never returns. I do not find it honorable to pretend appearances are more important than truth. I do not find justice is served when Ministry officials use instruments of torture such as blood quills on students and retain their positions rather than being tried for their crimes. I will defeat Voldemort or die trying, Minister. That is my duty."

Scrimgeour looked at Dumbledore with disapproval. "Perhaps it's time this school attempted to instill a measure of respect in its students, Headmaster."

Harry spoke quietly. "Respect is earned, Minister. When the Ministry's actions consistently demonstrate rational responses without jeopardizing the rights of innocents and individuals, I will be pleased to take your request to publicly acknowledge those efforts into consideration."

The Minister rose and looked balefully at Harry before looking back at the Headmaster. "I apologize for disturbing your day, Albus. Good day."

Harry stood and placed a clenched fist on his chest and bowed to the Minister. "Good day, Minister." The other man stalked from the room as the other others watched, one expression tinged with regret while the other was coldly aloof.

"Harry, I understand your bitterness with the Ministry, but Rufus Scrimgeour is not your enemy. Would it be so difficult to find some middle ground with him?" The elderly wizard looked at the Gryffindor with faint disappointment. The boy had to learn how to be more tactful and political.

"I ask for very little, Headmaster. I ask for acknowledgement of past wrongs and a promise not to repeat them. If the Minister is unable or unwilling to do that, then we have very little to discuss. Now if you will excuse me sir, I barely have time to eat before my afternoon classes."

Harry bowed and left the office, leaving a troubled Headmaster behind him.


In order of appearance:

autgabin = grandson

lowaar = indwellers

isohon'naflosola = honored grandfather

ghergo'ir = young one

isohon'iri = honored ones