Chapter 4

Snape sat behind his desk and stared into a half-empty glass of brandy. It was his third. He knew what he had to do, but Merlin, he hated it. Still, there were some things you didn't wish even on your greatest enemies. Flat out murder would have had more honor. Snape sighed and picked up a quill. At least on the positive side, this would solve many more problems than it would cause…Snape hoped.

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Morning at the Ministry of Magic

Cornelius Fudge was a man of habit. He rose promptly at seven, was showered and dressed by eight, and was always seated at the breakfast table five minutes later. For breakfast he always had two rashers of bacon, three triangles of toast, one slice of tomato, and two fried eggs. Although, for Sundays and Holidays, he always added in kippers.

He was half way through his second triangle of toast when a jet-black owl flew in through the window and landed in front of him. The owl lifted its right leg to offer the letter there and somehow at the same time treated Fudge with a look of utter contempt. Cornelius blinked. What a strange owl.

He took the letter and not two seconds later the owl launched off. "No need for a reply, hmm?" Cornelius opened the letter.

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Dear Minister Fudge,

Certain facts have come to my attention that need to be urgently addressed if disaster is to be avoided. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, has begun his first year of Hogwarts. Before now, Mr. Potter was raised in the muggle world with his non-magical relatives and he has not had much interaction with the wizarding world. Soon, however, this will change, and how he sees this world will have a great impact on his decisions regarding it.

It is easy to see that one day he will have great political influence, and it is important to have his high regard right from the start. One day he will ask more about what happened to his parents, and more about what happened to their betrayer, Sirius Black. It may come to his attention that this man was his godfather and that he never had a trial.

Children can have a very black and white sense of justice. Mr. Potter could even be led to believe in his godfather's innocence without ever meeting the man simply because he was never given his day in court. Also, to a child, that kind of injustice can make the kind of 'very bad impression' that will last into adulthood. A Harry Potter who is against the ministry could have the kind of influence that would be needed turn others away from the ministry as well, and we all know how that turns out…

There is also the fact that the boy was raised by muggles, and there is no idea how he was treated with them. Knowing that there was a pureblooded godfather who could have raised him here, in the world where he belongs, could eat at him and cause severe resentment.

Has anyone ever gone to check on the conditions in which he lives? Many muggles would not be happy to have a magical person thrust upon them. Consider if it were reversed; if a noble pureblood family were to find a muggle baby on their doorstep, would they be happy about it? How do you think they would treat that child? I shudder when I think of what that poor child's life might have been like. Why was he sent there to begin with? I can't even begin to think that his parents wanted him to go there. Has anyone even read the will?

Minister, dire urgent actions need to be taken to prevent disaster and scandal. Give Black a trial with all the frills, leave nothing out—use veritaserum, make sure he has a defender and a jury. You will need honest incorruptible people in that courtroom with you. There needs be no doubt in anyone's mind when this is over, that this was the fairest trial ever given.

Keep it quiet, though, until his guilt or innocence is proven without a doubt. Avoid bias from either side—be it light or dark. I will bet my cane you know who it is who is writing you this letter, but you must never speak of this to me in public or private. I cannot be involved in this trial, just as Dumbledore must not. Don't tell him about it at all, and never let me know when or where. Pretend I know nothing.

Next, you must find out what was said in the Potter's will. Was he really meant to live with muggles, of all creatures? Make sure you investigate how he was treated by those muggles as well. Young Mr. Potter must have no doubts that his welfare is being looked out for by this government. Heed these words, Minister, and take action.

Yours sincerely,

A Concerned Pureblood

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Cornelius sat back in his chair. This was urgent, critical even. Lord Ma…this concerned pureblood was right. Winning the boy's high regard was worth its weight in gold from a political standpoint. He got up from the table without finishing his breakfast. He had work to do.

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Meanwhile…

Severus Snape was cutting into his own breakfast. He might have felt guilty of the events he just set in motion, but was not an emotion he was easily inclined to feel. He watched as Harry ate happily with his friends. Yes, he had done the right thing…but, damn if he didn't hate Sirius Black.

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Harry was oblivious. Classes were going…well, as good as they could be, he supposed. In Herbology the plants were still growing, charming wasn't taught in Charms, and Snape was still a bastard to him in class. Although, Harry was starting to enjoy their verbal battles. Why, just today he had earned a triple detention for asking Snape about his heritage, but Snape hadn't wanted to comment on if it was vampires or bats…or both.

His classmates had already given him their condolences for having detention all day Saturday. Harry wondered if they were taking bets on the likelihood of his survival.

Now it was Wednesday and they were lining up for flying. Harry was thrilled until he saw the brooms laying the ground…they were kidding, right? Those couldn't be comfortable. Madam Hooch saw his wary look. "Don't worry, they have cushioning charms." she said with a wink.

She turned to face the class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. "All right all of you, stand next to your brooms, hold your hands over them and say 'up'."

Harry shrugged, here went nothing. "Up." The broom shot up into his hand. "Cool."

"Now," continued Madam Hooch once everyone had their broom, "Straddle your broom and kick softly off the ground. Don't go higher than a couple of feet up into the air, then point your brooms towards the ground in order to come down."

It was not long before the class of studiers and hard workers got the hang of it. "Ok, class, now we are going to have a relay race. Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw." She lined up the students up in random order, Harry getting the last spot. There were eight students in each group. Hooch blew her whistle and they were off.

Hannah went first, the object was to go about a hundred yards and fly around one of the Quiddich goal posts before returning. Hannah made it back in respectable time and she tagged off to Susan. Then it went to Justin, Wayne Hopkins, Megan Jones, and Zacharias Smith. They were neck and neck with Ravenclaw when Ernie Macmillan was tagged in. It was then that things fell apart; he was fine when it came to rising into the air a few feet then coming down, but his deep dark secret was that he was paralyzed by heights. He took to the field and could barely go faster than a crawl, and he could only do it two feet off the ground.

His classmates were screaming at him, but it was no use, he was only half way back when the last Ravenclaw mounted their broom. Harry cupped his hands around his mouth, "If you do not get back here, I will personally see that you get no pudding until Christmas!"

Ernie tightened his grip, closed his eyes, and pushed the broom forward. Seconds later he was grabbed by Harry. "You can stop now, your pudding is safe." Harry jumped on his broom and shot off. The Ravenclaw was almost to the goal post, but Harry wanted to win, he wanted it more than anything. He flew until the wind pressed against his face and air stung his eyes. He passed the other student at the goal post and spun around to return. The speed made him feel truly alive for the first time in his life. He felt as if there wasn't anything he couldn't do.

He crossed the finish line in a blur and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Mr. Potter. I haven't seen anything like that in years. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn that that ragged old broom was a Nimbus 2000. Incredible, totally incredible. Just wait until I tell Professor Sprout, she will be so proud. You might just make a fine Quidditch player someday with skills like that. Twenty points to Hufflepuff.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief—he had finally made up those points lost to McGonagall. He didn't realize that the story of his racing skills would make it around the school by morning.

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TBC..

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