Chapter 7 – Stiff Upper Lip
Harry was acting very strangely when he met his friends at the main door of Hogwarts. For someone who was happiest when in the quiet company of his most intimate friends, he seemed to be going out of his way to draw attention to himself. Waving wildly to his fellow Gryffindors, he had charged down the stairs from the main door and barrelled straight towards them.
"Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean – I'm over here!" he bellowed.
"Um, hello Harry, are you alright?" asked Hermione with a puzzled expression on her face.
"Yes, of course! How are you all?" he almost shouted.
"Er, we're fine Harry. What about you; how was your journey here?" asked Ginny.
"Couldn't be better, I mustn't complain," he replied nervously, rubbing his hands together and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Listen," he continued, "Filch has been hot on my heels all day. Do youse lot mind if we nip in the side entrance by the Herbology greenhouses?"
"Not at all mate," said Ron, shocking his friends. Since his strange behaviour on the Hogwarts Express, he had been civil enough. He hadn't struck up any conversations, but he'd nevertheless answered any questions politely and had seemed to be making an effort to interact with his friends, especially with Hermione. It had been a Red Letter Day, Dean joked, to see Hermione playing Exploding Snap with Ron.
Now here he was, laughing with Harry and acting as if none of the events of the past few days had actually happened. Putting his arm around Harry's shoulders, another first, Ron led his friend away at a brisk pace. Since when did Harry and Ron go around touching each other? Their friends traded incredulous expressions, shrugged and then trotted after them.
Just a couple of minutes later, events took a turn for the worse as they rounded the corner of the main quadrangle. The instant they were out of the sight of the main door and the horde of people milling around there, Ron exploded into action. Shoving with all his might, he managed to get Harry on his hands and knees. Ripping his wand out of his back pocket, he yelled "Imobilarius!"
"Ron," squealed Ginny, "what do you think you're doing?"
"Wait!" he said in an emotionless voice that brooked no argument. "This isn't Harry - are you all blind?" Leaning down towards the impostor, Ron levelled his wand just one centimetre away from his rapidly flicking eyes. "If you're a Death Eater," he said in a cold whisper, "I'm going to kill you and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't stop me, your Death Eater friends won't be able to get here in time to do anything about it and my friends sure as Hell won't try to stop me. WHO ARE YOU, YOU BASTARD?" he screamed suddenly.
"Aparencia Corporus Restorum!" rasped a voice.
With these words, the impostor's appearance rapidly changed. On the exposed skin of his face and hands, it seemed as if he were boiling. What appeared to be bubbles erupted all over his flesh and he seemed to be trying to grit his teeth against considerable pain. Within a few seconds, Seamus Finnigan's face and body had replaced Harry's. Still frozen in place by Ron's spell, a muffled whimper escaped his mouth.
Hermione. "Look, it's the real Harry!" With this, everyone stared in the direction she was pointing and found a shocked-looking Harry flanked by Mad-Eye Moody and three younger wizards. In contrast to the old Auror and their friend, the other wizards were looking highly amused.
"Ron, relax mate," said the new Harry. "We were just testing out Seamus as my double. We were following you under our invisibility cloaks to see how it went. He's still got a bit to learn apparently," he said with raised eyebrows.
"How do I know you're the real Harry?" demanded Ron.
"You kiss your Chudley Cannons poster last thing at night before getting into bed, you arse, now put your wand away!" This joke seemed to break the tension as Ron let out a deep breath and lowered his wand. As Moody rushed over to see to Seamus, the eldest of the three wizards approached Ron.
"Hi Ron, I'm Jerry Puddicombe. I'll be working with Moody for the time being."
"I know who you are," exclaimed Ron. For just a moment, with an enthusiastic light in his eyes, he looked like the Ron of old. "You were on the Hufflepuff Dream Team – you invented the Double Punch manoeuvre!"
"Well, er, not really. I just adapted another tactic I'd learned about in Muggle Studies. It's quite interesting really. You see, what I did was..."
"Boring!" cried Ginny from behind her hand as she pretended to cough. Harry noted that despite a few wan smiles, nobody really laughed: it was obviously too soon to be cracking jokes.
Looking chastised, Jerry cleared his throat and continued. "Er, Ron, how did you know it wasn't Harry?"
"Apart from the fact that he had ants in his pants, you mean? Well, he said '...youse lot...' which I've only ever heard Irish people say," he explained.
"Okay, thanks," said Jerry, looking impressed.
"Harry, please tell us what's going on!" squeaked Hermione, who never liked to be in the position of not understanding a situation.
"Well, Seamus is going to be imitating me, obviously, and Luna's going to be standing in for Hermione."
"What? Why?"
Harry sighed, shrugged his shoulders and smiled sadly. "That's a long story."
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For the first time since the darkest days of Voldemort's last reign of terror, there was little appetite amongst the pupils of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the renowned start-of-term banquet. For the vast majority of the students who had already completed the first year, this was ordinarily a welcome opportunity to witness the legendary Sorting Hat in action without being the focus of its disquieting attentions.
For the few students of the legendary school who were starting as first-years, this time would be even more nerve-wracking than was usually the case. Gone was the festive atmosphere of the welcome ceremony and in its place was a more sombre air. With half of the students now withdrawn, the remainder were all seated at the ends of their respective house tables that were closest to the professors' High Table. The result was that the Great Hall appeared to be almost empty.
The one bright point was that there seemed to be almost as many teaching staff as there were students this year. Everybody had noticed that the place was awash with quite elderly people, the vast majority of whom seemed to laughing and joking. This helped to lighten the load on the younger witches and wizards.
In fact, as Professor McGonagall rose from her chair to call order, the level of noise in the Great Hall had reached almost normal levels. As she looked out over the much diminished student body, she allowed herself a small smile, despite her knowledge of just how dire the situation really was.
"Might have your attention for a few moments please? The sooner we finish, the sooner you can all eat. Anymore noise from the Gryffindor table and they'll start the term with negative points," she added with a very pointed expression. "Now, first of all I would like us all to extend a hearty welcome to our new students and professors!"
Such was the nervous energy in the Great Hall that there was actually a chorus of whistling and cat-calling at this point. Well aware of just how on edge everyone was feeling, the new Headmistress decided not to say anything...this time.
"Yes, yes - calm down please. Now, tomorrow morning when you all receive your timetables, you will notice that all students will have one less class this year." This news was met with near-universal delight. A few people on the Ravenclaw table, as well as Hermione Granger, seemed to be devastated, however.
"This free slot will not be squandered on indolence, though. With the reduced number of students in attendance this year, it is more important than ever that we focus our attentions on the extra-curricular activities of the school. To that end, all students are required to register with their house prefects for a minimum of one club. Furthermore," she stressed over the chorus of groans, "these clubs will all be inter-house with the exception of the Quidditch and wizard chess teams." There were a few dark looks cast at the Slytherin table, but the majority of people seemed to think that it was worth associating with Slytherins if it meant less classes.
"Now, there are a number of new members of the faculty this year, as I am sure you have already noticed. I ask you to join with me in welcoming them. First of all, it is my very great honour to welcome back to Hogwarts as its new Deputy Headmaster and Master of Potions, Professor Hieronymus Massingbird!"
Ron actually smiled when the Hufflepuff table burst into raucous applause. Hero was a Hufflepuff, not a Ravenclaw as he'd thought! Somehow, remembering the stories Hero had told him of his father's only-slightly wayward youth made it easier to think of his death. His eyes filled with tears when he realised that he'd never be able to tease his Dad about these stories.
"If only we'd had just a little more time," he whispered, the tears spilling down his cheeks once again.
Hermione put her arm around his waist and kissed his cheek while Harry slung his arms around Ron's shoulders and Ginny's waist. Their fellow Gryffindors, though thoroughly magical, were also for the most part British. Although they were sitting in plain view of these four, they gave them their privacy by suddenly becoming very interested in the contents of their plates.
As the Headmistress introduced the other new professors, a small kernel of grief nestled in the otherwise hopeful atmosphere.
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At the same time as the start-of-year feast, Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody were hard at work in the 'Fifth Common Room'. Nobody was quite sure who had first jokingly referred to the squat tower by this name. Nevertheless, it had soon been adopted by the steady stream of people who were constantly apparating into and disapparating out of the tower.
The new nerve centre of the Order - one of the many unused towers in Hogwarts - had been chosen by its new leader. Alastor Moody had been all but forced to accept the role by the remaining principal members of Albus Dumbledore's organisation. In theory, he was merely the temporary Chief Counsellor – one of three that formed the Triumvirate that governed the Order. However, both Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin had made it clear that this arrangement met with their approval and was to be considered permanent. They had recognised Moody's suitability for this role just as many others had.
In fact, it had been the grizzled old Auror who had managed to persuade so many other retired Aurors to come back to the fold. Apparently, there was a large body of people who were more than a little unhappy with the lack of action on the part of the Ministry of Magic with regards to Voldemort. Not everybody was prepared to accept the empty blandishments of a bunch of overfed bureaucrats. Professor McGonagall had arched an eyebrow at the number of retired Aurors that Moody and Lupin had managed to shoehorn into non-essential posts both in and around Hogwarts. However, proving that she was willing to accept Moody's lead in this matter, she had signed off against the expense.
"Moody," said Remus, "I don't know your mind on this matter, but all those old Aurors stick out like a sore thumb. It will be nigh on impossible to prevent word of their presence here leaking out."
"Good," grunted his companion.
"Moody," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "do you remember what we talked about? I seem to recall that it was about the need to explain your choices more fully in order that we might make our own suggestions?"
"Humph! Voldemort's not stupid, laddie," snapped Moody. "When he and his scum hear that Hogwarts has been filled to the gunwales with trained and experienced Aurors, they're going to throw a collective fit."
Remus seemed to be waiting for Mad-Eye to go on, but the older man gave no sign that he was minded to continue his explanation and continued to pore over fresh intelligence reports. Trying to rein in his growing irritation, he continued to press Moody for more details.
"Yes, I managed to work that one out for myself, Alastor. How is that a good thing for us?"
"Merlin's beard, man! Do I have to spell out everything for you?" Throwing down his quill, he stumped over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. "The cold seeps into an old man's bones," he complained in a tired voice. Taking out a small hip-flask from his breast pocket, he tipped a generous amount of what smelled like fire whisky into his mug.
"Potter is the key to all of this. We need to destroy the Horcruxes, of course, but what we need most of all is for him to kill Voldemort. If we don't manage to get all the remaining Horcruxes it won't be a complete loss. As long as our Harry does for the Dark Lord, we'll have another few years to prepare for his return." He stopped, sniffed at his drink and then guzzled it down in one go.
"I see what you're saying, Moody," said Remus in his cultured voice, "but how does making Hogwarts into an armed camp help us to achieve this goal?"
"By keeping Voldemort and his Death Eaters fixated on this place, we keep them from seeing other things," he said.
"Such as Harry and Hermione..."
"And the Weasleys, Lupin, don't forget their little part in all of this!" he cautioned.
"...and the Weasleys," Remus acknowledged, "when they are out and about making mischief," he finished. "There's more to it than that, though, surely?" he asked, looking straight into the old man's eyes.
"Yes there is – there is always more. Learn to think like an Auror and you'll realise that. Never accept the most obvious explanation; there are always layers upon layers. Always! Look here Lupin, what is the fundamental difference between a Death Eater and the retired Aurors?"
"There are so many that I couldn't possibly start to list them."
"No? Well, let me help you a little, shall I? We'll start off with our side - Aurors with proven track records who are old, bored and basically decent. First of all, the fact that they are old means that they don't fear death as much as you youngsters. Now, I'm not saying that they're looking for martyrdom," he added hastily, to forestall Lupin's growing expression of incredulity, "I'm just saying that they are aware of the fact that they have relatively few years left to them. They have had their time in the sun, their careers and their families - at least those who wanted families have. There is little left to hold them back, whereas any reasonable youngster fears losing his or her opportunity to have such things.
"Secondly, the boredom of being a retired and un-regarded old buffoon also works in our favour. Where else would they be able to find work at their age - in the Ministry? No, we offer the chance for a bit of excitement and the feeling that they might just be doing a bit of good.
"And finally, add to this the fact that they are all veterans of battle - all but the oldest of them have experience of the Dark Lord's last little tantrum, remember - and we have ourselves a nice little force that should prove to be more reliable than any other we could reasonably expect to lay our hands on."
"And what of the Death Eaters, Moody; they are hardly weak-willed little school children, are they?" asked Remus, arching his eyebrow. "They are capable adults, trained in the use of the Dark Arts, who have absolutely no compunctions about using any type of magic against whichever target takes their master's fancy. They form a dangerous force which is not to be trifled with," he finished emphatically.
"True enough, Remus, that's a fair point. Tell me," he said, pausing to add more fire whisky to his mug, "exactly how wieldy do you think the Death Eaters are as a force? No, no, don't answer that, it was a rhetorical question. When it comes to guerrilla tactics, the Dark Lord's troops are an excellent force, I admit. However, when it comes to a set confrontation between two armies - open conflict, Remus - then we have a clear advantage.
"Which Death Eater will accept the order to be the first to attack Hogwarts when the likes of Malfoy, McNair or Lestrange are sitting behind them, safe as houses, and waiting to gobble up all of the wealth and property belonging to the dead? They're not stupid; they know that the first into contact with our forces will die for sure. The Muggles discovered in the wars of the past hundred years that if you have an unwilling army, it is almost impossible to control it. In fact, you spend more time disciplining your own army than you do attacking the enemy.
"Remus, we want to be attacked! We have to force them to do so. This will gain us some more time to prepare ourselves and to let our forces damage Voldemort and foment discord amongst his troops!"
"Cue the Weasleys," said Remus with a tired smile.
"Aye, cue the bloody Weasleys. Let's see if they can set the cat amongst the pigeons," he growled.
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