Measure for Measure

Chapter VIII: Sentinels

Where is the dark I came to find?

Locked away; these dividing walls

Silhouettes separating,

Blind eyes stark to the sky

Always, be the least connected

Stay true to the last rasping breath

Cut ties with useless company

The core of ignorance and fear

Layer reality

Where is the flicker of fire?

Something only you can see

What is the core of insanity?

Feste lay upon my pillow looking bleak, well more bleak than usual. It looks as if the poem depressed him as much as it did me. The little clown's painted face was pressed against the pillowcase as if stemming tears. I felt the same way. It wasn't that it was sad or even meaningful, I just didn't get it. Even a young Dumbledore somehow managed to baffle me. When I first realized that the manuscript I had held as if it were treasure had turned out to be the inane ramblings of a teenage boy I was livid. Orion had held the book in such high regard going so far as to display it, when in actuality it was just a journal. I had scoured the book seven times in the past two weeks, seven times! Still nothing stood out as much as this poem. It was repeated every time New Year's rolled around in the journal. A rough version of the same poem even started off the first section. And what's more I hadn't expected to Dumbledore's work to be so… blue. After reading up on the authors that a younger Dumbledore would have admired I still found no deeper meaning to anything he wrote. It was as if the Dumbledore I knew had even more guile as a child.

"Ariana today made waffles using the new iron, they were quite good. I have since realized that she added spices into the mix that Mother hadn't instructed her to," I read from one passage. There was nothing worthwhile I could glean from that. Ariana was his sister, younger. She was mentioned many times throughout the journal, although his opinion of her changed drastically as the years passed. He had been extremely kind and protective of her when the writing had begun, but as the book progressed he became less and less tolerant of her. When I reached the final pages of the journal she wasn't even mentioned by name. It seemed as though she was scorned because had little magical power, from what I could gather anyway. It was strange; she was the opposite of me. I had been forced to do the housework because I was a wizard, whereas she was held in contempt because she lacked magic ability. What a nasty business being different is, no matter where you are it's still the same.

I closed the book with a grunt of frustration; this line of thinking didn't help me understand Dumbledore any better. It just confirmed the nature of society. The journal abruptly ended three months after his fifteenth birthday. The following time must've been where he really started to grow and establish himself. It would be of no use to further ponder on this.

My hand reached out and propped Feste up. The little fellow had been the majority of my company during my stay here. I had talked with Orion also, he was rather insightful, but as I had thought, he was also dogmatic. He appreciated the works of the muggle authors but downplayed their significance and wit. He also extolled the works of Agrippa and Rellen, which I did see reason for, but it didn't excuse his close-mindedness. The man had introduced me to many new friends. Orion also lacked the humour that his son possessed in abundance. Although after days of Sirius' antics it begins to grate on your nerves. It was best in small quantities, but I didn't dare tell him that in fear of estranging him. In short life had been decent. I wasn't sifting through the rubble and recovering nostalgic photographs, but I was content to continue as I was.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling for a bit. My stomach rumbled. I continued to stare.

"Dance, minion!" I commanded after I got bored, um—bored-er, more bored, whatever. Feste stood shakily and leapt onto my chest and danced a jig. It was amusing; I applauded after he finished, much to his embarrassment. He ducked his head and scuffed his foot on my shirt. I grinned. My alarm buzzed, Feste's head snapped up and towards the clock. I counted to six mentally and watched as he jumped at it and beat it into submission. After his task was finished he leaned against the lamp and slumped down.

"Morning routine, commence!"


"Where is the damned cereal, woman!" My Cap'n Crunch was missing.

"You ate the rest for dinner last night, Harry," Tonks yawned. She was sipping some steaming liquid from a mug at the table, as the rest of the household sought to find victuals. It seems as though Mrs. Weasley was missing, so the kitchen was in disorder.

"I know what I did last night, Tonks," I grumbled, "But why isn't there more?"

"Because you ate it!"

"No need to snap," I said, "I only asked a simple question. By the way did you happen to notice that MY CEREAL IS GONE?" At my outburst Hestia jumped and dropped the kettle into the sink. She grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shoved my head over said sink.

"There goes all the tea, idiot!" She yelled, as if I didn't know where the tea had gone. Someone obviously wasn't too cheery in the morning. I allowed her shake me for a moment before demanding release, civilly of course. She let me go and calmed herself down, reaching into the sink for the emptied kettle. I backed away quickly and sat next to Tonks.

"I take it she still doesn't like me," I whispered.

"She's just stressed is all," Tonks whispered back, "There wasn't really a need for Healers in the Order until recently. I think she's just now realizing that this could get dangerous."

"Yeah it hits you after a bit, I remember it only took me about a month or two to realize someone was trying to kill me in that tournament," I replied quietly, "I started to take it seriously then. The thing is, they weren't trying to kill me, just scare me into thinking they were trying to kill me. If that makes any sense." I glanced up at her face, she looked genuinely curious.

"No, go on. I haven't heard the full story, only the part where You-Know-Who returned," Tonks said eagerly, "Well, I followed it in the Prophet and at work, but there was too much gossip in the story to get any of the action out of it."

"I take you would've like to be one of the Champions?" She nodded.

"I really would have, but I doubt Hogwarts would have supported a Slytherin Champion," she said wistfully. My eyebrows rose. She nodded again and answered the unasked question.

"Yeah, all of my family, except for Sirius, has been in Slytherin." I stared disbelievingly at her. That did not compute. Tonks was way too happy to have been in Slytherin. I would have expected Hufflepuff or maybe Gryffindor.

"I know, but what the hat says, goes. A good portion of your family have been in there also, so don't knock it," she defended.

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, "It's not a very nice or welcoming house, but it has a long history of producing excellent witches and wizards."

"Alright, alright," I muttered, "I believe you, but seriously, my family?"

"Yeah, most British pureblood families have some history with Slytherin house, some more than others."

"Sure and 'wizards' comes before 'witches', to let you know."

"Bastard," she said good-naturedly, "We're better."

"Well, since you're better and all, would you mind getting me some cereal. I'm feeling a bit hungry. I'll tell you about the tournament later." She pushed her plate in front of me; on it was a pastry with what looked to be a cherry filling.

"Eat."

"No thanks, I prefer Cap'n Crunch," I said, sliding the plate back.

"And where am I supposed to find Cap'n Crunch?"

"The supermarket," I said reflexively.

"So you want me to risk exposure by popping over to the local supermarket and then back here," she asked incredulously.

"Sounds about right," I said, "You could use that shape-shifty thing that Hermione and Ginny keep talking about, might help." She blushed.

"I'd rather not," she said.

"Why?"

"I don't want to," she said defensively.

"Well, your choice then," I grumbled, "Just gets me my cereal." I glanced about the room, surprisingly Hermione, Ginny and the twins were all missing. Ron sat at the other end of the table looking at me timidly. I suppose I was a bit hard on him, he hadn't even put up that much of a fight.

I sighed.

"Hey Ron, where is everyone else?" He blinked, started to say something, and then stopped. He looked conflicted, mouth half open.

"Sorry about the letters," he said finally.

"What?"

"I'm sorry about the letters, alright," he said again.

"No, I didn't ask you how sorry you were, idiot. I asked you where the rest of the idiots were." Tonks giggled nervously.

"You see, Harry," He began slowly, "I don't know where they are." He was lying; he knew full well where they were.

"Ok, if that's the way you want mend a broken friendship…"

"No, I mean, I ca—I don—I mean, I dunno."

"I've got it," Tonks announced. I swiveled around as she clapped her hands giddily.

"Got what?" I asked.

"It," she said proudly, "C'mon Harry, you too Ron, get some bowls and spoons from the cupboards, we're going on a trip!"

"Why would we need bowls to go on a trip?" Ron asked, "And I don't think we're supposed to leave, Tonks. Mum'll flip."

"What's the matter, Ron? I don't see your Mum anywhere," I told him, "Let's go." Tonks got up and pranced over to the door.

"You wanted cereal, right?"

"Correct," I answered, "So, how're we going to escape?" She shrugged and left. I stood and gathered the required utensils before making for the exit as well. It would take my mind off the Dumbledore case, at least. Ron followed us after a moment's hesitation.


(12 August 1995, 6:39 A.M.)

"It'll all be over soon, dear," Mrs. Weasley assured me, "In a few hours time you'll be cleared."

I said nothing.

"It will be quick if things go accordingly," Mr. Weasley said, playing with the collar of his bomber jacket, "It's taking place on my floor as well, so I won't be too far away. Ms. Bones is presiding I believe. Nice woman."

"Yeah, Harry," Tonks said patting my arm, "She's smart and fair, saved my job many a time." I bit back a witty remark and moved her arm off of my own. Wasn't feelin' it.

"Snape better be right about this," Sirius growled from across the table, "Otherwise, I'll kill him for real this time." He dug his fork into his omelet and continued to eat. Just looking at the food was making me nervous. This was either going to screw me over for the rest of my life or it was going to screw me for a short amount of time. I'm not sure which I feared more.

"Even if," Lupin began, "Even if Voldemort changed his mind, which I doubt, you have a strong chance of winning, Harry. It was self-defense. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Rita Skeeter did a good job reporting on the story. That should help."

"Finish up, Harry, we need to get going soon," Mr. Weasley announced, wiping the remnants of his breakfast off of his face, "I'm not too familiar with arriving through the visitor's entrance." I glanced down at my waffles. I thought of Ariana, Aberforth and of course Albus Dumbledore. I decided not to even attempt eating. The name Dumbledore didn't connote agreeable feelings any longer. I pushed my plate towards Tonks, who gazed at me concernedly.

"Not hungry," I muttered, standing. I lifted my blazer from the back of my seat and slipped it on. It's necessary to look smart for occasions such as these. It might make them a bit more sympathetic if I look presentable. Street-urchin chic was out of style this season. I smiled weakly.

At that moment a scuffle was heard from beyond the kitchen door. There came the 'mrowl' of a cat and a resounding thump. Mrs. Weasley hurried over to see what the issue was. As she opened the door she let out a yelp. Feste came marching through, towing a letter along behind him. He was puffed up proudly. Mrs. Weasley darted out into the hall and returned with a dirty, upset-looking Crookshanks. I stared at the clown, my brow wrinkled.

"You did that?" I said slowly gesturing at Hermione's cat. The little comic nodded and swung the letter over his head, offering it to me. I bent down and picked both of them up. Setting Feste on the table I looked at the letter, it had the Ministry's seal on it. Mr. Weasley appeared at my shoulder and read it along with me.

Dear Mr. Potter,

At the behest of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and his desire to be present during your hearing, the aforementioned hearing has been rescheduled to precisely 8 O'clock AM. Furthermore it will take place in Courtroom 10 of the Ministry of Magic. We thank you in advance for your cooperation.

Sincerely,

Dolores Jane Umbridge

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister

"What. The. Fuck," I whispered. What in Merlin's excessively famous name were they playing at?

"My thoughts exactly, Harry," Mr. Weasley said unenthusiastically, staring at his watch, "It's now six-fifty-one, let's get going, before they spring another one on us." He looked one more time at the letter and approached the fireplace, looking for floo powder. I set it down upon the table where Remus, Sirius, and Tonks jumped on it like a pack of wild dogs. I grabbed Feste up and set him in my breast pocket. Mrs. Weasley approached me under the pretense of combing my hair one last time, but I waved her off.

"The hearing or trial or whatever's been rescheduled. It starts in an hour or so," I told her in a detached way as the others passed around the letter, "I think we're going to leave now." I pushed past her and approached Mr. Weasley who had gotten the fire to a manageable level. He gave me a small smile and held out the floo powder.

"After you, Harry," he said quietly, "The address is Ministry of Magic, Atrium." I nodded and took the proffered powder. Tossing it into the fire I spoke the address clearly, shut my eyes and stepped forward into the flames.

I still hadn't quite grasped 'the art of the floo' properly, so upon my exit I fell forward and lay sprawled on the ground for a while. The clown squirmed in my pocket, his face pressed to the floor. After I had composed myself I stood up and was greeted by the unfriendly face of a scruffy looking man.

"State your name and business," He said bluntly.

"Oh—erm, Harry Potter, I'm here for a hearing," I replied. The man grumbled something under his breath and fiddled with something at his belt. I took the time to dust myself off and straighten up my attire. At last, he thrust a small shiny badge at me and jerked a thumb behind him. I pinned the badge on my jacket. Feste stuck an arm out and rubbed at the badge.

"Weigh your wand in at the desk," The man said giving my companion a funny look, "Then you may proceed to your destination. Have a nice day." I nodded at him but stood still. Mr. Weasley hadn't arrived. The man grunted and motioned for me to move as someone arrived behind me.

"Sorry, I'm just waiting for someone."

"They're probably at one of the other fires," he replied gesturing behind him. I finally looked at where he was pointing. My jaw dropped. It was remarkable. The atrium was a long beautiful hall. The floor was of a dark polished wood and the ceiling a deep calming blue, scrolling across it was a variety of golden symbols that looked like the runes Hermione gushed about for hours on end. Across the hall, the wall was lined with gilded fireplaces that matched the row that I was standing in. It was there that people departed judging from the groups that clustered around some. About midway through the hall was an awing fountain with statues made out of what looked to be solid gold. Standing in the middle was a statue of a tall proud looking wizard, wand pointed straight up. Around him stood a centaur, a witch, a goblin, and a house-elf. The house-elf looked up at the wizard and witch adoringly, while the centaur stared at the heavens and the goblin squinted at the house-elf peculiarly. Amid all of the grandeur was the hurly-burly of the early morning work shift. Masses of people moved almost as one towards the golden gates at the end of the hall.

"First time?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied still taking it in.

"It's nice isn't it; this is the heart of our society."

"It's amazing!"

"Yeah, yeah, now scram," he said shooing me off as another person arrived behind me. Shooting the man a displeased look, I left.

"Hey, Potter," the man called after me. I turned, puzzled.

"Good luck." I inclined my head at him and moved off towards the kiosk where my wand was to be weighed. As I got closer to the stand Mr. Weasley found me. He approached looking a bit shaken.

"Sorry, sorry, Molly held me up back at…well you know," he puffed, "I take it you need to check in at security?" I nodded and slowed my pace to match his as we neared the security desk. A roughly shaven man in dull brown robes was sitting behind the desk, I cleared my throat in order to get his attention. He looked up and put his paper down.

"Can I help you, son?"

"I take it you're security?" I asked him. The man nodded.

"Well then, get securing," I answered removing my wand from within by blazer. He held up a hand.

"Gotta check you with this first," He muttered ruffling about behind the desk. He produced a long thin gold antennae-thing. He passed it both in front and back of me, before grunting, "All right, wand." I handed it to him and watched as he dropped it on a apparatus that looked like a scale.

"Ah, I get it, weighed," I mumbled trying to ease the anxiety of not having my wand on my person. That was what caused this entire mess in the first place, my damned paranoia. A slip of paper, almost like a receipt, was expelled from a slit near the base of the device. The man read this as he plucked my wand off of the scale.

"Phoenix-feather core, Eleven Inches, been in use for four years, correct?"

"Correct," I answered. He gave me back my wand and stared at my badge.

"Have a nice day, Mr.—" His eyes darted up to my forehead. I gave him a winning smile. Mr. Weasley grasped my shoulders and steered me toward the gates.

"Thank you, Eric."

"My name's Jim," the man replied. Mr. Weasley shrugged and hurried me on.

"Its quarter after, Harry," He said quickly as we passed through the gates and moved towards the numerous lifts, "It's better to be early than to be late. I'll get you down there now, but my department isn't permitted into any of the old courtrooms, so we'll have to hope Albus got the memo as well."

I grunted in response. I was feeling a bit Anti-Dumbledore at the moment. Mr. Weasley led me to the end of the hall where a lone lift was waiting with no queue. Marked above it were three words.

Department of Mysteries

Suddenly, I felt a pain in my scar. I stumbled in after Mr. Weasley and leant against the wall. He looked at me, concerned.

"Harry, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling myself together. It wouldn't do to go all mental during the hearing. That would only prove the world right. I blinked away the discomfort and stood up straight.

Hell, maybe I was bonkers, but dealing with that'd have to wait until I proved to Bones that I wasn't. The previous statement was completely sane, I swear it.