Here's what I would say if my dog asked who owned Harry Potter: "Who owns Harry Potter? Who does? Does Misty own Harry Potter? Does her? No, her does not. But her is a good doggie."
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Chapter 10. The Singing Sorceress' Swan Song
With Albus back Abe was anxious to return to his bar, although to Harry is seemed more like he was throwing a tantrum over losing the slipper war. He'd agreed to stay through supper, but as soon as the dishes were cleared, he grabbed his goat and disappeared. Literally.
And for once Harry was glad to see him go. It had been awful sitting through the meal, pretending not to know that the man that just 'accidentally' dropped mashed potatoes in Albus' drink was dying. But he wasn't supposed to know, and he couldn't allow himself to give the brothers another thing to fight over, so he had laughed and smiled until his face hurt.
He'd spent the rest of the week trying to avoid thinking about Uncle Abe's illness, and so in no time his homework was completed (although he might rework the Transfiguration paper after Minerva arrived – she did love to share her knowledge). He also had a few more passages translated from Slytherin's book, most of them dealing with his thoughts about and interactions with the other founders. So far, the most surprising thing revealed was Slytherin's opinion of Rowena Ravenclaw – brilliant but frigid; not exactly the opinion held by modern times.
He did manage to accomplish something else that week. He fulfilled his promise to Minerva; not that she'd given him any choice. She had shown up during breakfast one morning with a box full of mailing supplies, and Harry had been put to work before the dishes had even been cleared. He was given four letters that had been written by Minerva and a stack of blank parchment, and she taught him a spell that would duplicate the letter onto the parchment, which he then stuffed into an envelope. A second spell would transfer names and addresses from a master list onto the letters and envelopes. He just had to be careful he didn't confuse the Years.
Harry was only handling the letters for First through Fourth Years. Minerva handled the other years, as their supply lists needed to be personalized, and there might be 'extras' to be added later. "I can't thank you enough for volunteering, Harry," she said at one point, which he found odd as he most certainly had not volunteered.
Laughing at the look on his face she continued, "And I'm certain my sister Helena would thank you, too. I usually trick her into handling the early Years' envelopes. It's been a good many years since I've had to do much with those letters."
They talked in relaxed fellowship as they worked, with Minerva sharing stories about letters gone awry. Like the time one of the deliver owls was sick, and it had flown all the way to Milton Fuller of Brighton Beach in New York instead of Milton Fillmor of Brighton in East Sussex. That had taken some serious magical cooperation to straighten out, seeing how Fuller was an American, and a Muggle to boot. Then there was the time one particular student refused to send a reply, eventually requiring over 200 letters to be sent.
"Hey, not my fault," he protested. "Vernon refused to use a ruddy bird to send a letter." Harry grinned as he remembered the letters forcing their way into the house. "But I got it in the end, and Dudley got a pig's tail out of it, so all in all it worked out. I've always wondered, though … about the address on my letter."
Minerva reached over and patted his hand. "Let me tell you a story, Harry, of a young witch receiving her first letter in a most unusual place." Eleven year-old Minerva had been a rather headstrong girl, and on more than one occasion she'd run away from home. She always went to the same place – a sort of cubbyhole underneath the bridge over the gully. She refused to tell Harry how often she did this, but it was often enough that she'd started keeping a blanket and some food in a basket in her little hiding place. Well, she had gone there one evening and fallen asleep, only to wake early the next morning to find a rather annoyed owl shoving its foot – letter attached – into her face.
"The envelope had read 'Miss Minerva McGonagall, In the Cubbyhole, The Bridge Over the Gully'. I used to wonder how the Headmaster of Hogwarts could possibly know that I was sleeping under that bridge," she laughed. "But now I understand. There's no real rhyme or reason to it. For some, the address used is the place they think of as home – one boy's letter was sent to his grandmother's house – but for others, those who don't feel like they truly belong I would guess, the address is for wherever they feel the safest or perhaps wherever they currently are."
They finished the letters before lunch, and Harry was forced to admit – really, she made him say it – that it hadn't been that bad an experience.
The next morning he found himself sitting at the desk in his room, where he had just finished an entry his dream journal. Without his sleeping pills, all his worries were manifesting themselves in his dreams. In some dreams bad things – like Death Eater ambushes and vicious snake attacks – would happen, and he and his friends would be caught in the middle; other times, his dream self would have to watch helplessly as those around him fell to green curses. The dreams weren't very pleasant, but at least they were his own, and he understood them.
He closed the journal with a sigh. Something was going to happen, he could feel it. Hell, he'd seen it; or at least, he'd seen Voldemort and his Death Eaters planning something. As much as he hated those visions, especially when Voldemort was enjoying himself, he almost wished that he could have one now to gain some clue as to what was coming. Maybe he was getting paranoid – 'wouldn't Mad Eye be proud' – but he had spent ten minutes just last night lecturing Ginny on the importance of keeping her wand handy at all times, even in bed. As he put it, "damn the bloody restriction" if there was trouble.
She had politely listened to everything he'd said, and dutifully promised to do as he'd asked. He had the feeling she was just placating him, but hoped that she nonetheless took the warnings to heart. After getting the Abe-bomb dropped on him, he really didn't want to even think about losing her.
Not that he was ignoring his other friends. He'd written to Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even Luna, warning them to be prepared for trouble. The nearly identical letters had mirrored his sentiments to Ginny regarding keeping their wands in hand and the Statute Against Underage Magic, including what the Ministry could do with it. Though, perhaps he should have put more thought into them. Ron had let it slide, just thanking him for the warning before shifting into Quidditch news. But Hermione had fired back to let him know she was offended that he thought she needed to be reminded to be on alert, and that he'd obviously forgotten she was already seventeen.
He'd felt better knowing his friends were on alert; he just couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was on the horizon. And then, on Friday morning, he woke up to the sickening feeling of pure, bubbling-over-the-cauldron joy that wasn't his own. He slunk down to breakfast to find a note from Albus. He'd been called to the Ministry for an emergency. It was a short, hastily written message; the man must have been quite frazzled when he'd written it. In fact, it reminded him strongly of the howler Albus had sent to Petunia in how he'd written 'remember my instructions!' Those of course being their standard rule that when Harry was alone he was to stay inside the cottage, and have Dobby take him to the castle at the first sign of trouble.
There was little room for doubt now. Whatever it was, it had happened.
Harry was sitting at the dining table picking his sausage apart when the paper arrived, and with sinking dread he took a deep breath and opened it. The first thing to catch his eye was a picture of a stately brownstone, quite ordinary and unremarkable in every way except one – the Dark Mark was floating overhead. Beneath the picture the headline screamed:
MINISTER KILLED!
Robards, Warbeck among the victims
The bodies of Minister Rufus Scrimgeour and Head of the Auror Office Gawain Robards were discovered early this morning by Ministry Aurors when the Minister's Personal Security Auror failed to check in. Aurors immediately went to investigate the home of Robards, where the Minister and his mistress were attending a dinner party, and made the grizzly discovery.
The Dark Mark was found floating over the house and the front door was wide open. Eight bodies were discovered inside, including the Minister's and Robards. Also dead at the scene were AnnLouise Raleigh, the Minister's longtime companion; Boneva Robards, Gawain's wife; famed songstress Celestina Warbeck, two unnamed Aurors, and an unidentified wizard. There were no known survivors of the attack, although a complete guest list was not immediately available.
Preliminary investigations reveal that Minister Scrimgeour was tortured before he was killed. Cause of death was not speculated, but it was not believed to have been the Killing Curse. The most gruesome, however, was Gawain Robards, who was beheaded. The others are believed to have been victims of the Killing Curse. According to an anonymous source at St. Mungo's, where the bodies were taken, several showed signs of recent duels, indicating that they tried to fight the attack. Damage to the walls and furniture at the house appear to confirm this theory.
Scrimgeour and Robards have been aggressive in their stance against HWMNBN and his followers, so their deaths are perhaps not that surprising. Scrimgeour has recently been working directly with Chosen One Harry Potter, an outspoken opponent of You-Know-Who. Unbelievable to this reporter is the killing of singing sensation Celestina Warbeck. A known pacifist who would often end her interviews with the phrase 'make love, not war', Warbeck's death is beyond senseless.
The Wizengamot convened early this morning and appointed Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as temporary acting Minister. They have announced that they will accept formal petitions for Appointment to Minister on Monday, July 14, from 10am until 2pm. Closed-door arguments will begin at Noon that Wednesday, and the doors will not open until the new Minister has been appointed. All Petitioners are required to be present for the arguments.
In a startling move, the Wizengamot then went back into session to debate several new security measures, including Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore's motion that all Ministry Employees be checked immediately for the Dark Mark. This is not the first time Dumbledore has made such a motion, but previously it has always been denied. Ex-minister Fudge and one-time Hogwart's Governor and exposed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy were often his most vocal opponents. (story continues on page 2)
The Loss of an Enchantress, page 2
Is it time for martial law?, page 3
List of assassinations since You-Know-Who's return, page 3
Reaction by the Widow Scrimgeour, page 4
Harry crunched the paper in his fists, not wanting to believe what he had read. Voldemort had killed the Minister! That could only mean one thing – he was trying to seize control of the Ministry. And if he succeeded, bad things would happen. His young mind was hard pressed to come up with details, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that getting rid of Muggleborns would be high on his to-do list. It was, Harry supposed, a good thing Voldemort had already eliminated Dolores Umbridge. The thought of the two of them working together sent chills up his spine.
Harry was still sitting at the table, his uneaten breakfast long forgotten, when he heard the front door open. Diving under the table, he pulled his wand and crouched low, ready to fight. Through a gap in the table cloth he was able to see the vibrant green robes that could only belong to his guardian enter the room, and he sheepishly left his hiding place.
Albus chuckled as he watched; and when the boy was standing straight he applauded. "Constant Vigilance ... Alastor would have been so proud."
With a cheeky response muttered under his breath, Harry put his wand away and retook his seat. Within minutes, his embarrassment was forgotten as he pumped Albus for additional information, which was unfortunately in short supply. For once, the Daily Prophet seemed to have covered all the relevant facts with little embellishment.
Not wanting his boy to spend the afternoon worrying, Albus distracted him with an offer he couldn't refuse – another training session. The two made their way to Albus' favorite cavern, and once inside, they went through the exercises they had practiced the last time, with one noticeable addition. Albus began sending Stunning Spells at Harry, who was expected to avoid being hit by any means available except a Shield Charm. They again ended their day with Harry using objects to block Killing Curses being sent at a statue, which this time bore an uncanny resemblance to Professor McGonagall. In the end, Harry was proud to say that Statue Minerva survived mostly unblemished.
They arrived back at the cottage dirty and sweaty, and in Harry's case, feeling energized. Where these exercises had left him in a bit of a mental funk the last time, this time they uplifted him. He was consistently recognizing the incantation before Albus had time to complete it, and he was able to fully block the curse more often than not. With a bit more practice, he felt confident that he could protect his loved ones should the need arise.
Harry stayed reasonable upbeat the rest of the weekend. But on Monday his nerves started to frazzle as he waiting for the evening's Order meeting. Well before he needed to, Harry had changed into plain blue robes and was seated in their family room, doing nothing in particular. Albus eventually joined him in the room and the two waited for the appointed time to leave for Headquarters – Harry by watching the clock and Albus by reading a novel. Finally Albus couldn't ignore Harry's nervous fidgeting any longer, and with a sigh he closed his book and suggested they head out early. Harry was at the door before Albus was even out of his chair, but at least he had the grace to apologize for his restlessness.
They entered the front door of the gloomy old house to silence, but their noses picked up the evidence that others were already in attendance. Following the delicious smells, Harry found Molly Weasley heating up a pot of beef stew on the oven. Fresh bread, pitchers of cold cider, and home-made pumpkin pies and tarts were already on the table. Molly looked up from her task to welcome the newcomers, and Harry stepped over and gave her a quick hug before moving to his usual seat at the table, which placed him directly across from Remus and Tonks. The latter, not wanting to be outdone, leaned across the table to give Harry a bone-crushing hug, knocking over the pitcher of juice as she retreated back to her side.
While she gushed her apologies, Remus pulled his wand and restored order to the table. A few minutes later the three were joined by Bill and Fred – 'er, George … no, definitely Fred' – and Molly started serving the food as she explained that Ron and Ginny were staying at the Burrow with Fred – 'blast it!' – and Fleur. By this time, Albus had taken a seat as well, and he congratulated Molly on another excellent meal, earning similar comments from the others.
By the time the pies were being served the meeting was due to start, as evidenced by the growing number of bodies in the room. Arthur Weasley had arrived, and he was leaning against the counter next to his wife, both talking with Minerva. Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived with Edgar Lacer, the Unspeakable Harry had met at the beginning of the summer. He also recognized Dedalus Diggle, the odd little man he'd seen once as a child, and Hestia Jones, who he remembered from his Advance Guard. Dung was lurking near the fireplace, trying his best to look nonchalant as he inspected the tarnished old trophy on the mantle. Snape was practically hidden in the shadows near the door, no doubt purposely so.
Rounding out the group were two people Harry didn't know, although one of them was definitely familiar. Uncle Abe hadn't made it, but Harry tried not to read to much into this since the old fart rarely came to these meetings, preferring to send any information he had directly to his brother. Other than Diggle, who he was sure had just bowed to him, and Snape, who he was convinced missed nothing, he didn't think he'd been noticed yet. But then, he didn't think most even knew of his membership.
Taking a quick head count, Harry was surprised that the room would hold this many people, but he supposed that the room could expand when needed. The old pureblood families considered their house to be a physical representation of their House, after all, and it would have been in extremely poor taste if they didn't have room for all their guests.
Without any noticeable call to order, the group quieted so Albus could begin. Thankfully, he jumped right into business, and so those that had not already known of Harry's inclusion were not given the chance to voice any objections on the matter. He had asked the group to find out what they could about the four individuals that the Wizengamot were considering for Minister, and he was not disappointed. Arthur, Edgar (or Eddie, as he asked to be called) and Kingsley gave detailed information about their careers, and as each person was discussed other Order members volunteered their information.
The first person discussed was the acting Minister himself, Pius Thicknesse. Harry remembered him all to well from his 'interrogation' at the Ministry just two weeks ago. In Harry's opinion, the man's arrogance battled with his stupidity for top billing. He quietly listened as first Eddie and then Kingsley both pointed out that as recent as a few months ago Thicknesse might have been labeled overconfident, but he wasn't what one would call a 'climber'. His appointment as Head of his department had been a shock to most, as he had normally tended to fade into the background, content to do his job and go home.
Something had caused that to change, and Snape snorted at the obvious. "Do you all have pudding for brains? The man's new best friend is Hades Yaxley. Surely even Potter can draw the proper conclusion." His eyes swept the room, giving those present the opportunity to speak. Harry rather thought he knew what came next, but he'd had six years' experience telling him to keep his mouth shut.
Having intimidated the entire room (Albus of course excluded) Snape continued, "Thicknesse is in the Dark Lord's control, either as a direct supporter or more likely under the Imperius Curse. Appointing him Minster is equivalent to handing control to the Dark Lord himself."
Although many around the room nodded their agreement, a few felt that was too big of an accusation to make unfounded. Only, in Harry's opinion, it wasn't unfounded, and he said as much. "I agree with the Professor," he began, catching the ears of all in the room. "When I met with the man, he tried awfully hard to get rid of Tonks and Mister-Arthur. He definitely wanted me alone and outnumbered. He was particularly upset when Albus joined us. And did any of you notice the time or two he seemed to look to that Auror – not Dawlish, the other one – for guidance." He paused as Arthur and Tonks agreed. "Yeah, every time something didn't go according to his plan, it was like he wasn't sure what to do next."
Albus allowed a few more minutes of 'healthy debate' before he cast his vote, so to speak, by agreeing that one way or another, Thicknesse was Voldemort's man. What needed to be determined now was if any of the others were under Voldemort's thumb.
Arthur Weasley spoke up next, telling what he knew about Dirk Cresswell, the second candidate. Cresswell was a Muggle-born who, like Hermione, had stood out among his fellow classmates. He'd been particularly good at Charms, Arthur had heard, but his best subject had been History of Magic. In fact, he'd been the only person in his year to continue on for the History N.E.W.T. Perhaps it hadn't been a surprise when he'd gone on to work in the Goblin Liaison Office. In only six short years, he'd been named Head of the department, no doubt due to his unusually good (good being a relative term) relations with the goblins.
However, it was agreed by all that knew him that he lacked the visibility to be a real contender for the post. In other words, he would be acceptable if he was chosen, but he was a long shot.
Next to be discussed was Wenlow Wentlock, who Harry discovered was the dumpy wizard that had vocally sided with Fudge at his hearing for underage magic. Obviously, Harry was immediately against the man. In truth, not much good was being said by anyone. Kingsley in particular was concerned with the man's voting record – a thorough researching had revealed that he voted with former Minister Fudge every time. While no connection to Voldemort or his key Death Eaters could be found, he was definitely lacking in the 'fair judgment' category. No one felt comfortable with the idea of him being appointed.
More damning than that, at least in Harry's opinion, was the office gossip that he and a certain pink-infested Under Secretary had had a torrid love affair during her tenure in Fudge's office.
The last person to be discussed was Gemini Bluestreak, the current head of Department of International Magical Cooperation. Harry noticed that where Albus seemed only mildly curious about the other two, he was definitely paying attention now. Oh, the casual observer would never notice the difference, but Harry saw how he was sitting just a bit straighter in his chair and how he had adjusted his glasses.
Gemini Bluestreak, it turned out, was a very boring and very proper man. He was faithfully married to his Hogwart's sweetheart, a devoted father to his three grown children (one of whom was an Auror), and a beloved grandfather to no less than eight munchkins, two of which currently attended Hogwarts. He was a member in good standing of the Gobstones Association of Scotland (or GAS, as it was called). He'd even spent six months as a substitute professor at Hogwarts while the Astrology professor took a personal leave.
At the Ministry, he was as well respected as he was well-known. He treated his subordinates fairly and his equals respectfully; and was a soft-spoken but stubborn adversary to most of Dolores Umbridge's proposed laws. Most telling, he was himself a pure-blood who abhorred the so-called pure-blood rhetoric. Married to a Muggle-born himself, he was ideologically opposed to Voldemort.
In fact, the only blemish on the man's record was that fact that one granddaughter had chosen to attend Beauxbatons. Laughing at that conclusion, Albus thanked those assembled for both their time and their knowledge before politely dismissing them. Most left quickly – it was a work night after all – until only what Harry would call the inner circle were remaining. At least, he would if that particular phrase didn't instantly make him think of Voldemort.
Those who stayed were Arthur Weasley, Remus (and by extension Tonks), Kingsley and Snape; Minerva would have stayed but for a prior commitment. To this much smaller group, Albus made his intentions clear. He wanted Bluestreak as the new Minister. The fact that he was personally known to Albus made him easy to accept as the right choice. But for Harry, it was the little-known fact that, like himself, Bluestreak was quite proficient in throwing off the Imperius Curse that had tipped the scale.
Now that the debate was over, Albus outlined his plan. Harry's surprise at finding out he was at the center of the plan was only rivaled by Snape's, but Albus reminded everyone that Harry had acted spectacularly in first discovering and then thwarting Draco Malfoy's plan at school – not to mention his other assignment. That caught Snape's attention, but apparently no one else questioned the comment, and Snape certainly wouldn't. With a smile Albus announced their business finished.
As the others made their way to the front door, Albus motioned for two wizards – Harry and Snape – to follow him to the parlor because, as he put it, "the chairs are softer on the bum". Albus chose the stately wingback chair, which Harry didn't think looked soft at all, but which directly faced the sofa. Without thought, Harry took a seat at the near end of the sofa so he would be in front of Albus for the conversation. Snape, however, was clearly torn. He obviously didn't want to sit next to Harry, but it was also obvious that that was Albus' intention. With a grumpy sigh, he moved to the far end and perched regally on the cushion – showing the other two his disdain for sitting on anything that had once been used by Sirius Black. 'Just think how he'd react if he knew what Ginny and I have done on this couch!'
With a smile and a nod of understanding – which Harry hoped was directed at Snape and not himself – Albus asked Snape what he'd discovered about Nagini's fate. Not acknowledging Harry in any way, Snape looked directly at Albus and said, "It is as you suspected, Albus. Nagini was harmed in some manner, and although she lingered for a few months, the wounds proved to be fatal."
Harry of course already knew this part, but didn't want to start any arguments and so he merely nodded in agreement. For his part, Severus noticed the nod, and chalked it up as another sign that Potter spent much more time with the Headmaster than was normal (even for the Golden Boy) if the old man's mannerisms were rubbing off on the boy. Albus had also nodded his head, and Severus continued. "Luckily Wormtail is as weak minded as he is spineless. It was absurdly easy to enter his mind," and his eyes shifted briefly to Harry and back again, "and find the correct memory. In early June, shortly after the failed invasion of Hogwarts, Wormtail was once again asked to help the Dark Lord perform a ritual. You would think the pathetic little rat would have learned his lesson; but then, one can't exactly say no to such a request. Unfortunately, his memories of the ritual itself are sketchy at best. If I had to guess I would say he was under the influence of a mood-altering potion. Most likely to make him a willing participant, but it also blurred the memory to the point where much is indistinguishable."
Harry wasn't surprised that Voldemort had resorted to drugging Wormtail. After having to cut off his own hand, the little rodent wouldn't have been jumping for joy at the prospect of helping again. 'At least that bastard had a choice!' Beside him, he could hear Albus and Snape discussing the hazy memory, or rather, how unlikely it would be to clear the image. Harry felt they were missing the point. "But what happened to the snake," he blurted out, earning himself a harsh glare from Severus.
"As I was about to explain, Potter, the snake was used in the ritual. The Dark Lord had prepared a potion which Wormtail fed to Nagini. It appeared to put her to sleep; if it had any other affect, I cannot say. Wormtail then cast a spell on the snake, which caused her to glow in a sickly green light, similar to the flash of the Killing Curse. With his wand still pointed at the snake, he said what sounded like 'Deglow Nagini Sool, Deglow Sool Relic'. A dark mist seemed to follow the flick of the wand, moving from the snake to the object, which was completely surrounded by the mist for a second or two, before it seemed to absorb it. When the ritual was complete, the Dark Lord pulled his own wand and incinerated the snake."
Snape described the object involved as best he could. It very much sounded like a plaque or crest, and Albus wondered aloud that if he went to Hogwarts and looked, would he find Tom Riddle's award for services to the school missing. He asked about the fate of the object, but Wormtail's memory had ended at Nagini's cremation – he'd most likely fallen asleep (another side effect of the mood altering potion) – and so he hadn't seen what Voldemort had done with the new Horcrux.
Severus of course didn't understand the significance of the ritual or the object, but the experienced spy could tell that Potter did. Oh yes, Potter was definitely knee deep in this. Remembering his personal revelation from last spring, Severus sat quietly as he listened to Potter and Albus discuss where the assumed award might now be, and how 'it changed things' – although what those things were, he hadn't a clue. When had Potter become Dumbledore's confidant? Oh right … when it had become obvious that the little runt was going to be the one to defeat Riddle.
Before taking his leave, Severus filled Albus in on a few minor details he'd managed to pick up. The most interesting by far was the growing rift between Bellatrix Lestrange and her brother-in-law Rabastan. To Snape's annoyance, Harry kept interrupting with questions. "Are the rest of the Death Eaters taking sides," he'd asked, to which Severus replied "most definitely." Another time he questioned Rabastan's sanity – "is he as crazy as his sister-in-law?" The answer to that was, "nobody is as insane as Bellatrix Lestrange."
To Snape's astonishment, which he hid well from his audience, the questions were actually reasonable, and the boy had even concluded that Bella was rapidly becoming a liability to the Voldemort all by himself. Apparently, he could do the work for himself if Granger wasn't sitting beside him. Standing to leave, Snape bid goodnight to Albus, before turning to Harry and commenting, "I find myself surprised, Potter. Apparently you are not a complete waste of oxygen."
Harry looked confused for a moment, but before he could say anything, Severus added, "but then, the same could be said for most members of Hufflepuff."
Over his shock, Harry grinned as he asked, "Just most of them, Professor? What about Ernie Macmillian?"
With a smirk, Snape replied, "Now he is a complete waste of oxygen."
Pressing his luck, Harry continued, "What about Zacharias Smith?"
"Complete and utter waste."
Oddly enjoying the banter, Harry asked, "hmm, what about past Hufflepuffs … say, Cornelius Fudge?"
Snape's smirk turned into an actual grin, "A waste of the time it takes to even think about him."
Harry had to laugh at that response. "Alright, now that I understand your standards, I accept the compliment."
Snape opened his mouth to retort, but catching sight of Albus (whose shoulders were shaking with concealed laughter) he thought better of it and he settled for scowling. Without another word he turned sharply on his heal and stormed from the room in what would have been a dramatic exit, had his billowing robes not caught in the closing door.
Harry nearly fell from his seat, he was laughing so hard.
-0-0-0-
At promptly 9:00 AM the next morning, a nervous Harry Potter stumbled from the floo into the Leaky Cauldron. Albus had worked with him for hours to prepare him for his task, but he wasn't certain he could pull it off.
Waiting for him near the fireplace was Arthur Weasley, who reflexively reached out to catch the tumbling boy. Harry thanked him and grinned, "I only have trouble with that when I'm around Weasleys."
"Probably has more to do with that untied shoelace than present company, I should think," pointed out Mister Weasley, who chuckled as the embarrassed young man bent down to tie his shoe. Behind his dad, Ron was openly laughing.
Shoelaces firmly tied, the trio left the pub though its front door to walk to the Ministry's Visitor's Entrance. They passed the time talking about the family, particularly about how Molly was keeping Ginny busy this morning so she wouldn't try to come along. Harry assured the other two that he would make it up to her – and Ron immediately made Harry swear he wouldn't share any details.
When they reached the broken-down phone booth, they entered and Arthur swiftly announced their cover story, not giving Harry a chance to say anything. Ron was taking his Apparition test today (that part was real, even if it had been pushed forward to accommodate today's trip); Harry was coming along to get information on lessons he secretly had no need for.
At the security stand next to the golden gates, Arthur loudly told the guard checking wands that they wouldn't be long; he expected them to be back through in about an hour.
Ron easily passed the test this time, and left the office a proud licensee. Walking beside him, an Approved Apparition Lessons pamphlet in hand, Harry was offering his congratulations as they re-entered the Atrium Level. All three tried to appear nonchalant as they went back through the gates, but Harry knew what was coming. After all, the Daily Prophet had run articles about the four candidates (of course giving glowing recommendations to Thicknesse). If anyone had taken the bait this morning, there would be a reporter waiting in the lobby to get The Chosen One's opinion on the Ministerial Candidates.
Glancing around, Harry spotted Rita Skeeter in the distance, her photographer nearby. With a grimace, he turned his head – appearing to be speaking to Ron – when he spotted a second reporter. He didn't recognize the man, but he was easily identified given the parchment and quill in his hands, not to mention the photographer following him. He was a tall, thin man, perhaps Arthur's age. His thick brown hair was cut just long enough to look wavy, without the curly look Lockhart had favored, and was sprinkled with grey. He was wearing traditional robes, much like Albus always worn, though in a tasteful shade of burgundy with nothing twinkling or wiggling in sight. Making his choice, Harry stopped walking and angled his body toward the man, leaving the approaching Rita with nothing but a view of his backside.
But it wasn't the reporter that reached the group first. Arthur had been momentarily distracted by a co-worker's question when it happened. A man in plain black robes, the hood pulled over to hide his face, rushed from a spot near the wall. Ron was unfortunate enough to be standing between the man and his destination – Harry – and he was ruthlessly knocked to the side. Not expecting the shove, he tumbled over, a distinct crack sounding as his head hit the ground. Harry could only look down at his fallen friend, for the stranger was already between them, frantic to get his attention.
The man was barely an arm's length away now. "Here Harry, you need to take this," he urged as he thrust a book toward the boy.
Harry began to reflexively reach for the book – his hand was only inches away from it – when someone grabbed his wrist and yanked it up before using it to push him further away from the stranger.
"No Harry … it could be a Portkey."
**end chapter**
Notes: The Wizengamot is a bit of a mystery to me. Surely it's more than just a glorified jury. So I've made up my own thing – making the Wizengamot a sort of legislative/judicial combination.
Bonus Points to anyone that knew the origin of the name Gemini Bluestreak. (It's an American reference, and not important to the story, but if you didn't get it and now you're curious, google 'gemini and bluestreak'.)
About the ritual: Snape didn't accurately hear the incantation, so it's not worth explaining here. Suffice to say, the actual wording was very similar to the spell Harry used when he attempted to create a Horcrux.
Slytherin's opinion of Ravenclaw as frigid – careful reading of his journal would reveal that she turned him down. Repeatedly. What can I say ... I see him as a man with issues.