Chapter 7: Late Letters
Everywhere in the halls it was being whispered and murmured. Fears of a man they dare not name, words of a boy who spoke of him, and ponderings of a man who supported the boy. The whole thing made Umbridge sick.
How, with the Minister of Magic himself saying it was false, was the Ministry over run by people who still believed Dumbledore? She was sure this was proof that the true loyalty of the people was not for her Ministry, but for the old fool instead. It had to be that he had his claws in the Ministry. Her Ministry.
And that was simply unacceptable.
Putting on her sweetest, most endearing smile, Dolores Umbridge strutted in to the Minister's office and gave a quiet cough to gain his attention.
"Oh, Dolores," the Minister greeted, looking up at her from his desk. His green bowler hat sat on his desk, as did his elbows. His hands were gripping his head as if in pain. "What am I to do with all these strange things going on? These attacks on Daigon Alley...? Perhaps Dumbledore was right all along..." he acknowledged with a sigh.
Umbridge's blood ran cold. How could it be that even her Minister was falling prey to that man's deceptions? The Dark Lord was dead, everything belonged to the Ministry. That fact should be undisputed.
"NO!" she insisted, as though she were a child throwing a temper tantrum. Her outburst caught the Minister's attention and caused the man to stall. Flushing at her momentary loss of control, Umbridge stuttered and stammered her explanation out. "Really, Minister. That even you would believe those slanderous lies... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, revealing the Leaky Cauldron to muggles? Letting muggles come in and intermingle with us magic folk? No, no, Minister. That's not the goals of You-Know-Who at all. Everything we know of him proves that, after all.
"And besides, you and me both know that he's already dead. Will you really listen to a lying, attention seeking little traumatized boy over the logic and reason you already know? I mean really, raising from the dead? There is no such thing, magic has already proven it to be impossible. Even if there was such a way to go about it, why would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wait nearly fourteen years to do so? No, no, Minister. Those lies reek with obvious cohersion. Dumbledore must have done something, to convince the boy to say those things..."
"Dumbledore?" the Minister echoed.
"But of course! Who else do we know who is powerful enough to do all those things, yet is the champion of muggles? A friendly and peaceful co-existence between muggles and magic users has been what he's been preaching all along, isn't it? And he's willing to even use the name of You-Know-Who to scare people into listening to him! But when you revealed his lies, told the people the truth, he went and did all those things in Daigon Alley to try and fool people into believing him! He's nothing but a fear-mongering old wretch, determined to make all the world sit in the palm of his hand! You can't let him do that, Minister! You can't let him turn your country into his own personal stage!
"We have to show the people—we have to show him—that Dumbledore's lies are not going to affect us! The Ministry must be seen as being strong. We must face this threat as a united front, unwavering in our conviction! If we do not, then the whole of the Wizarding World will fall to the deceptions of that power-hungry old fool. We can not let Dumbledore undermine us like this, cutting our network and breaking our support from underneath of us. Why, he's even in the school, brainwashing those impressionable children with his lies before they have the chance to understand reality for themselves!
"The Ministry mustn't allow him to get away with that though. We must be the supreme authority figure. You are the Minister, your word is law, not his. And the people must see that we have everything under control or else the panic will spread! We must prove that it is us in charge, not Dumbledore, and definitely not some falsified rumour of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising from the dead and ruling everything. We have to be the ones calling the shots. The people have to see that we're the ones in charge. That we have control over everything. Even Dumbledore. Especially Dumbledore.
"He is our biggest threat, spreading those lies and gaining favour under any means necessary. Even sabotaging the safety and secrecy of our great nation by destroying our wards and letting muggles wander freely through our most esteemed establishments, like the Leaky Cauldron and Daigon Alley. The people are scared right now, Minister, talking about attacks on the education system. We must show them that the children are safely under Ministry protection.
"All these rumours about cursed teaching positions and questionable staff placement—really, exposing the children to a werewolf! The people have to know that their children are learning the right things, in a safe environment! We have to stop the fears at the source by proving there's nothing wrong with the education system. By putting limiters on the amount of action Dumbledore can take. We must stop him from warping the minds of the people—of the children—to be his support rather than our Ministry's.
"If we do not, then obviously he'll corrupt them beyond repair, until they listen to none save him. Not even their Minister's words of truth will be able to stand against him if we do not sway this momentum before it gains anymore strength. We need someone we can trust to not be swayed by his lies to be there and make sure he doesn't have the ability to take any more power away from our Ministry. Dumbledore must be stopped before his goals to make his army of followers is complete and he overthrows our good democratic government with his tyranny! It's obvious that's what he's after, anyone with eyes could see it's so, after all..."
"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Touya pressed his boyfriend as they stood in the airport once more.
It was the night of August 30th, and Sakura, Kero, and Yukito were returning to London on the evening flight because it was cheaper. Sakura was over being smothered in affection by their mother's cousin and Tomoyo as Fujitaka watched on with that serene loving look that just made their dad look so omniscient and cool.
"I'll be fine, Clow-er, that is Eriol, did not indicate the possibility of any problems arising during this trip. I don't believe there is anything to worry about. Our trial run didn't cause any problems that anyone could detect and it's not like Yue was without Clow's magic for only a few months before he started disappearing. That happened after nearly thirty years of not seeing him," Yukito argued. "Everything will be fine, To-ya. The months will pass faster than you know, and in the blink of an eye it will be December again, and we'll be back to see you."
"I don't believe you," Touya stubbornly insisted. "Not having my most important person for almost three whole months wont ever pass that quickly."
"It will for me," Yukito countered, "because you'll be in my thoughts always, so it'll be like you never left my side. I want it to go quickly, make every day like a second so I'll be back in your arms in mere minutes. Don't say it will take an eternity, my heart would break if it took so long!"
It took a lot, but Touya resisted looking around for prying eyes before he pulled the love of his life into a tight embrace. "If anything goes wrong... should you need me for anything at all..."
"I'll call," Yukito promised.
"And I'll be there as fast as I can," Touya assured.
It was early in the morning when the residents of the Reed Mansion filed into the airport. The sort of early that ought to be late still by most people's reading. However, contrary to what most would expect, it was not the child who yawned tiredly and tried to rub the sleep out of their eyes. Eriol smiled kindly at his Moon Guardian, still very much a child in her own right despite her teenaged appearance. He slipped off his jacket and folded it up in a neat square, laying it down on the bench.
"Here," he told the auburn haired girl. "Go ahead and rest up, we have another twenty minutes before they get here."
"Wai! Wai!" Nakuru cheered, waving her hands in the air. "Eriol is so wonderful!" She flopped over on the bench and rubbed her cheek against her Master's jacket affectionately. "But why do we have to be here so early? Why is the plane arriving at such an hour? I bet stupid Yue slept in and made it so they couldn't catch one at a more decent time!"
"It is at this time because the plans were made so late, and the only affordable way for Fujitaka to manage all of this was for the incoming and outgoing flights to be at unfavourable hours. Remember, he is on a fixed income, after all, unlike us who are living off of the interest on Clow Reed's investments," Eriol pointed out.
"But I'm tired. It's too early," she whined lethargicly.
"Well, I did suggest that you stay home and sleep until they wake up in the morning..." the sorcerer pointed out.
Suddenly Nakuru bounced up, all signs of sleep deprivation gone. "No way! I gotta see Sakura-chan and Kero the moment they get here and greet them properly! I need to tell Kero about beating his record on the racing game!"
Eriol gave a sigh at his Moon Guardian's ploys for attention, and subtly changed the topic. "Just remember, Nakuru, that Sakura-san and her company will be requiring their rest, they are going to be leaving for Hogwarts in just over 24 hours and will need time to make sure everything is in order before they leave."
"Yes, I know," Nakuru relented.
"Speaking of Hogwarts, you haven't told her yet about Li-kun going as well?" Kaho interjected.
"No, I'll save that little surprise for later. It will make things more entertaining this way!"
Kaho looked at the ancient sorcerer for a moment. "You're being cruel, again."
"Am I? I don't mean to be," Eriol confessed.
"I know," Kaho nodded to herself. "You've spent so long knowing everything that to you there is no present more cherished than a surprise. However, for Sakura-chan there is only the fact that her beloved person is beyond her reach and she does not know when their paths will cross again, if ever. For a woman, there is little sorrow greater than being unable to see the one you love each day."
Eriol reached over and interlinked his fingers with Kaho's, understanding the message of her words in all the layers it entailed. "Not only for a woman, Kaho. A man, too, feels the loneliness and longing as each day passes. It is hard, no matter who you are, to not be with the one you love. And possibly harder still to see them every day and know you can not love them how you wish you could."
"Though... my question is: at what point did Li-kun's jealousy over Sakura-chan and Yukito-san's interactions change from it being Sakura-chan's time with Yukito-san to it being Yukito-san's time with Sakura-chan?"
"I'm sure it happened so slowly, that not even I could give you an accurate reading on that."
It was mid-morning of the 31st and Xiao Lang was just finishing up his sword training when a tap on his window caught his attention. Still unaccustomed to letters being delivered by owls, it took Xiao Lang a minute to register what was going on and why this bird was sitting at his window tapping angrily at it. By the time he had finally broken out of his daze and gone to let the bird in, he would have sworn the thing rolled its eyes at him if it were physically capable of such an act.
The bird didn't bother entering, merely extended one taloned foot and deposited a rolled up letter into his palm before flying off once more. Xiao Lang spared the bird only a momentary observation as it flew away before turning his attention to the paper in his hand. Correction, it was not paper, but parchment, a simple note scrawled in the same green ink and handwriting that the school letters came in.
Attention to all first year students,
Due to a last minute change of staff, all students attending their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are required a copy of Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard. We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused for the students and their families.
Yours,
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
Nodding to himself, Xiao Lang pulled on his shoes and headed for the door. At the door he found Yelan also preparing to go out. "Ah, Mu qin, you're leaving?"
The woman paused and looked at her son, "Yes, it would be prudent for me to go and greet the prominent Clans and announce to them our plans and length of stay in their territory."
"I see," Xiao Lang acknowledged, "are you going to take the Guardians?"
"That will not be necessary this time. You are on your way back to that wizard shopping street, are you not?"
"Yes, Mu qin. There's apparently been an emergency change of staff that requires a new book to be bought, so I'll be picking that up while I'm out as well," he informed the Clan head as he handed over the short note.
Yelan took a glance at the writing scrawled across the parchment and hummed to her self. "Sloppy of them. Very well, but do not forget to come back in plenty of time for a rest before the train ride tomorrow. It will be your last one before the winter holidays roll around in December."
With a nod of his head, Xiao Lang excused himself from the room and exited the hotel at a brisk walk. While the Leaky Cauldron was more than a half hour's walk away, Xiao Lang's independence and active lifestyle made him loathed to take a vehicle somewhere that he could get by his own two feet. So instead, as part of his training, he would run to the wizard's pub every day, getting there in just under 20 minutes if the traffic was cooperating.
When he entered the door, hair a little more tussled than when he left and only slightly out of breath, the barkeep Tom smiled at him. "Back again, eh? Shouldn't you be starting your classes soon?" he asked in a friendly manner.
"Train leaves tomorrow," Xiao Lang acknowledged as he strode pass the people milling about and out to the brick wall that opened to Daigon Alley.
The hustle and bustle in the street was much more congested this day than it had been previously in the month, and Xiao Lang noticed for the first time a vast number of teenagers swarming about amongst the crowds. The concentration of magical energies hit him once more, nearly as hard as it had on that first day, and he was thankful for all the extreme conditioning he'd been putting himself through these last few weeks to withstand it.
The magic of these children were far more chaotic, having not been trained and honed like that of the adults, and so they flared and fizzled with the wandering emotions of their hosts. To Xiao Lang, who had been taught the art of sorcery since the time he could comprehend basic speech, the way of these wizards seemed completely nonsensical. If you knew your child bore magic, why wait until they were nearly grown to begin teaching them to control it?
Sadly he knew of no one who would have the answers to such a question, and so had little more that he could do besides push his way onwards towards the bookstore. With the alleyway being far busier that normal—and Xiao Lang suspected far busier than it was originally built to be—he had to squeeze between people a few times to get by. Being only eleven, and somewhat smaller than a European eleven year old on average, without a guardian to help clear his path proved that his progress was slow and difficult.
He kept getting jostled as people would step back or turn without paying attention to were they were going and end up running into him. It was quite annoying to say the least, and he was rather thankful when he reached the bookstore. It wasn't hard to find the place where the shop's workers had put the missing book. There was a huge crowd around the table that the books were piled on, and Xiao Lang could make out many older students passing copies to their friends and relatives further back.
However, Xiao Lang was patient enough and before too terribly long he had managed to make his way through the throng of students and parents and over to one side of the table where there was still a good number of books stacked up. However, just as his hand reached to take the top copy of Defensive Magical Theory, something blindsided him from the right and sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Mummy! Mummy!" Ginny's voice called as she bounded into the room. "Mummy, the book lists are here!"
Molly Weasley looked up at her daughter's outstretched hand showing the aforementioned list. "Oh, good. It's about time, too."
"There's only two new books I need this year: this defence one here and Standard Book of Spells Grade 4. But I can just borrow that from George, so you don't need to buy me one! But what I could really use instead is a new diary. Please, Mummy? My old one is almost all used up and I just have to have a new one," the teenaged girl insisted.
"Well, I suppose, if you're alright using George's old school book..." Molly connected.
"It's fine, he'll give it to me no problem. You shouldn't waste money on something like that," the girl continued to press.
"Hmm, you and Ron will need some new robes as well. Children grow like weeds, I swear," she muttered as she placed the last of the folded clothes in the laundry basket and hoisted it up on her hip.
She bustled up the stairs with it in her head that she would have to collect the lists from the other children as well before she left. As she approached the hall that had all the children's rooms down it, she could hear the five of them talking in Harry and Ron's room, though she didn't know about what. Deciding this was a fortunate coincidence, she chose to make that her first stop.
"Ginny said the book lists finally arrived," Molly prompted from the boys and Hermione. "If you give them here, I'll head into Diagon Alley and get your things while you're packing." Two neat piles of laundry were beginning to form as Molly dug through the basket to pull out all of the things that belonged to the residents of the room. One by one the piles grew until one of Ron's night shirts got caught and was partially unfolded as she pulled it out. Lifting it up to look at it as she refolded the shirt she spoke absentmindedly. "Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short. What colour would you like?"
"Get him red and gold to match his badge," one of the twins piped up.
The words only half registered in her mind, so busy she was in making a list of everything she'd need to buy once in town. "Match his what?"
"His badge. His lovely, shiny new Prefect's badge," a twin reiterated.
Still, it took a moment for the words to penetrate Molly's preoccupied mind. "His... but... Ron, you're not...?"
The red haired matriarch turned slowly, and a little disbelievingly to stare at her bashful youngest son who was presenting her a polished new yet very familiar badge. Excitement surged and Molly let out a cry of jubilation. "I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around her boy.
"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie!" the woman gushed as she peppered her son with all the affection and congratulations she could muster.
The embarrassed boy squirmed under the attention. "Mum... don't... Mum, get a grip..."
Finally getting ahold of herself, Molly shifted to hold him at arms length and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."
For a moment, Ron just blinked at his mom. "What do you mean?"
"You've got to have a reward for this! How about a nice new set of dress robes?" Molly suggested.
"We've already bought him some," Fred interjected.
"Then a new cauldron, Charlie's old one is rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers-"
"Mum," Ron began, uncertainty radiating through his whole person, "can I have a new broom...?"
Mrs. Weasley faltered slightly for a moment. Broomsticks were expensive, and while they did have a little extra money with all the extra raids Arthur was doing and with three of her seven children out of the house, money was still somewhat tight.
Sensing his mother's unease, Ron hastened to explain himself better. "Not a really good one! Just-just a new one for a change..." he pleaded with such hopeful resignation that Molly couldn't help but smile.
"Of course you can..." Molly turned to gather up the letters from the other teenagers as she blinked the tears from her eyes. When she came to Hermione, however, she noticed the girl also held a matching red and gold badge in her own hand. "Why, Hermione... isn't that...?"
Hermione looked down as if only just remembering that she, too, was chosen for the role of Gryffindor Prefect. "Um, oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm the other new Prefect for our house this year," she announced with a somewhat forced grin as she held up the badge in presentation.
"Oh, dear, congratulations! I'm so happy for you, your parents will be so proud of you when you write and tell them!" the motherly woman hugged the girl, to a much warmer reception than her son had given.
"Thank you, I'm sure they will be," Hermione confirmed.
"And you dear? What would you like as a present?" Molly pressed.
It was now Hermione's turn to blink. "Eh? Oh, no, no! That won't be necessary at all!" the genius tried to reassure.
"Nonsense! You and Ron worked hard to earn those badges, that hard work deserves to be rewarded!"
"No, really. You don't have to worry about it at all. Getting the badge is all the reward that I need," Hermione attempted to continue insisting, backing away and shaking her head and waving Mrs. Weasley off all at the same time until she had backed herself up against the wall. Molly gave the girl one of her patented motherly stares that seemed to work at guilt tripping even the most stubborn of children into submission. After all, she didn't raise seven of her kids without learning how to stare down a dragon. As predicted, sweet, well mannered Hermione didn't last even a fraction of the time any of her own children did before the girl began to blush and fidget. "R-really... I just... I don't... want to be a burden..." she finally confessed.
Molly flushed slightly in response, realizing where the girl's true concern lay. "W-well, I'd better get going so I'll have time to get everything. I'll see you all later... Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks... A prefect... Oh, I'm all of a dither!" Giving her youngest son one last kiss on the cheek, and a loud sniff as her pride brought tears to her eyes once more, the Weasley matriarch bustled out of the room.
On the stairs, Molly's path crossed with Sirius, the only other adult in Grimmauld Place at the moment. When she shared the good news with him, the dog-man forced a smile for her sake. "That's wonderful, Molly. Good for them." But she could tell his heart wasn't in it and she felt a little put out at his inability to be happy for the children's sake.
Going to her and Arthur's room, Molly grabbed the coin purse from off the table. With her mind full of everything she needed to buy she apparated to the entrance of Diagon Alley with a loud crack. As she walked, Molly sorted through the letters in her hand and read the booklist for new volumes. There were a lot of books between the six children, so she supposed that she ought to go and buy those books first, as they were mandatory items and then she wouldn't accidentally overspend on any of the other things she had to pick up. However, she had promised Ron a new broom...
After fretting about it a moment more, Molly made up her mind and headed for the bookstore first. Buying the books was more important than getting the reward. If nothing else, she could always send him a broom or new clothes at school after Arthur got his next paycheck, sending him his school books would not be such an easy task. She found Flourish and Blott's to be predictably overcrowded by parents and students hurrying to get their copies of the books before the school year began. At the table with the flashing sign above it announcing Defensive Magical Theory there was such a congestion that people at the front of the crowd had began passing books back over their heads because they could not wade their way out through the mob of people pressing in.
However, Molly was not the wife and mother of the Weasley family for nothing and so she squared her shoulders, braced herself, and joined the fray. She had just reached the heart of the mess in time to see two older boys around Ron's age shove a small first year out of the way and sent the brunet boy sprawling across the ground. Molly's protective motherly instincts were just about to take a piece out of the two bullying boys who were laughing when the child they had knocked over pounced back up to his feet.
The next few moments happened too fast for Molly to really follow, but somehow the little oriental boy had used muggle martial arts to knock both the larger boys off their feet and was now sitting on the one who had hit him and punching the boy in the face. It took Mrs. Weasley a moment, but she soon hurried forward and pulled the brown haired first year from the two older boys, much to the younger boy's offence.
"What is this? Acting like a pack of wild animals, you should be ashamed of yourselves! You two especially, is that any way to represent your House and families to a new student? I want a word with your mothers!" Molly scolded, one hand on her hip and the other still holding the younger boy's elbow.
The pair of teens looked acceptably reprimanded and after a time of arguing with their mothers on whether or not they had done the accused actions, were taken away to be fussed over. It was only then that Mrs. Weasley turned her attention onto the child who had been trying to dislodge her for the last ten minutes. "And you...?"
"Me, what?" the boy glared defiantly up at her with a prominent pout in place.
"Where is your mother?"
"Not here. She had more important things to do today than accompany me to a store," Xiao Lang insisted with yet another yank.
"Then your father," Molly pressed on, not about to be deterred by such things.
The honey eyed boy gave a snort. "Good luck talking to him, he's been dead for years."
"Then whoever it is that you're here with," even her patience was beginning to run dry as this boy continued to make things as difficult as possible. She supposed it was just too much stress, what with all the danger being in the Order lead to and putting up with a werewolf being so close to her children all the time and those attacks on Harry lately... She just didn't have the patience to put up with other people's rebellious children. That is, until the next phrase left his mouth.
"There is no one! I'm big enough, I can take care of myself!"
Those words stated by such a small child... they were at the onset of such dangerous times, not even the Ministry could hush up the truth about the recent events happening around the alley, and yet this boy was cared for so little that his own mother just left him to wander around regardless. It wasn't any wonder that he tried to act big and strong, he had to compensate for the neglect and obtain a sense of normality somehow. She couldn't help it as her heart went out to this boy and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. "Oh you poor dear," Molly expressed.
The boy froze, his whole body taking on a sort of still-life quality with his face locked in something between exasperation, disbelief, annoyance, and dread. Slowly he turned his eyes to the plump red-haired woman and asked in a complete monotone, "...What?"
"You're all alone, let me help you," Molly insisted.
"Screw off, you old busy-body!" the boy yelled at her, finally yanking his arm from her grasp. "I've already lived for over a year by myself, it's not like a little trip to the bookstore is anything to fuss about!"
"By yourself? As in alone?! At your age?!" Mrs. Weasley gaped. The boy's only response was a casual nod. "Oh, of all the irresponsible... And such dangerous times, too, with You-Know-Who running about..."
The red-haired matriarch of the Burrow swooped to pull this poor neglected child into her arms and show him everything that a loving family life could afford, but the brunet in question ducked and sidestepped her in one smooth motion. "Crazy old coot. Quit being a public nuisance already and get a grip! You're annoying, leave me alone, you old hag." With that said, the boy pushed himself between some of the people pressing in to get their books and disappeared from Mrs. Weasley's sight. She spent a few minutes more scanning the crowd and worrying about the boy, but his stature was too small to make out above the many heads of the taller customers. Finally even Molly Weasley had to admit that he was a lost cause and return to her own shopping.
Piling up six copies of the dwindling books, Molly made her way back through the crowd, noticing the refill box was being raided as well before the poor employee could even make it to the table to try and add to the display. However, rather than make her way towards the checkout like most the people carrying copies of Defensive Magical Theory, Mrs. Weasley went over to where the magazines and such were kept. In one of those spinning racks were the notebooks, day planners, and diaries that were less commonly used in the Wizarding World where rolls of parchment were preferred.
However, Ginny had since a young age enjoyed keeping a diary to record her thoughts and feelings, saying that doing so helped her sort out her thoughts on things that troubled her. Despite the family's monetary issues, Molly had always striven to give her children everything she could, because she felt that it was the least she could do to be a good mother to them. Unlike the mother of that poor Asian boy who was abandoned for over a year and was neglected so much that his mother wouldn't even make time to take him out school shopping.
It wasn't like Hermione's parents, who didn't have the option of being there for their daughter. She sometimes felt sorry for those poor muggles who had to give their daughter up to a world they would never be a part of or understand. They weren't even able to be there to congratulate her on becoming a prefect, if they even would know what one was. Molly wanted to get something for Hermione, despite the girl's silly insistence that she didn't need anything, to prove that someone still loved and cared for the girl, even if her own parents couldn't be there to express how very proud they were.
Molly knew Hermione loved books, she was always reading and had her nose in them as often as she could manage, but she didn't know which books Hermione already had. She really didn't want to get her anything useless, and while she thought about getting her a new release, she didn't know which would be to the girl's tastes. However, Hermione was a girl, and girls like keeping diaries to store their thought in, and especially with Hermione's friends being a pair of guys she needed somewhere to express her feelings in...
With her mind made up, Mrs. Weasley picked out another diary from the stand. This one was an elegant little book with a faux leather cover in a pale, cherry blossom pink, with gold highlights and a star burst on the cover with the same. Mrs. Weasley thought it suited someone of Hermione's intellect and manors while still being distinctly feminine. Congratulating herself on a choice well made, Molly flipped the book over to look for the price tag. Finding none, she put the book atop her stack and headed to the teller, figuring if it cost too much she could just exchange it for a different one.
With a brief explanation to the young witch manning the till, the employee started flipping through the pages. Finding them all blank, even after a few swishes of her wand, the witch—who had the name Johnson on her tag—eventually shrugged. "I guess the sticker must have fallen off. It happens some times. No worries, Mrs. Weasley, I'll just ring it up for the same price as the other one. Your price comes to 7 galleons, 15 sickles, and 5 knuts, please!"
Mrs. Weasley handed over the money and left with a promise to give the teller's regards to the twins—though she wasn't really sure who exactly the teller was—and headed out of the bookstore to go look for the next thing on her list.
Hermione sat on Ron's bed, wiggling her foot to the tune of A Whiter Shade of Pale stuck in her head as she watched her boys hurry around the room to pack their things. Unlike them, Hermione was smart and organized and realized that they would have to be going back to Hogwarts soon and so had been packing slowly over the last week. As it was, she only had a few more things to put away, one of which being the book Mrs Weasley was picking up for her in Daigon Alley at this very minute, and so could afford to lounge around and watch the other two.
"It is strange, though," Ron suddenly spoke up as he took his new prefect badge off his bedside table and shoved it into his pocket with one hand and grabbed the small stack of chocolate frog cards he had been flipping through a few nights back with the other. "I mean, usually the letters don't come the day before the new term starts, you know?"
"Oh, that's likely that just no one wanted the job," Hermione theorized. "I mean, it's not exactly had the best track record these last few years, you know?"
"That's for sure," Harry agreed, thinking back over the list of faces that had come and gone from the staff table.
"They say the position is cursed, and from the point of view of anyone who believes Dumbledore about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it's the most dangerous place you could be standing," Hermione pointed out.
While Harry grumbled something about believability and trust, Ron latched on to the end of Hermione's statement. "I know the rumour has been around for years, but why is it so much more dangerous now than before?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Think about it, Ron. The DADA teacher, responsible for training the next generation of witches and wizards to have what it takes to take down the likes of the Death Eaters, will be practically Dumbledore's sword and shield in the upcoming war. They'll be the prime target for attack, and do you really think they won't be?"
Ron turned a sort of green colour and pulled a face, but Harry's recent uncharacteristic temper reared it's head once more. "It wasn't Dumbledore who said it, it was me! And it's not like anyone believes what I say or thinks I have the right to know anything, anyway!"
Hermione, growing tired of being snapped at and having her head chewed off for completely uncalled for reasons, argued back. "Now that's hardly accurate! What with all the weird things that have been going on in Daigon Alley recently, more and more people have been loosing faith in the Ministry, they've been looking to Dumbledore instead."
"Things happening in Daigon Alley? Like what?" Ron asked, Harry's brows also contorting in a similarly confused expression.
"What do you mean 'like what'? The stories have been all over the Daily Prophet these last few weeks!" Hermione stated incredulously.
"Daily Prophet?! You're still reading those lying, sleazy, conspiring-" Harry would have gone on into a new rant about her supporting brainwashers and so forth, but Ron stepped in between them with his hands held aloft towards each of them.
"Just tell us, Hermione," Ron prompted, levelling her with a warning look where Harry couldn't see. He knew from experience after growing up with so many hot-headed brothers that no good would come from continuing to argue in this state.
With an exasperated huff, Hermione began to recap the events. "It started back around the same time as Harry's trial, spells and wards that have been on shops for decades, or even centuries, are inexplicably vanishing, leaving disastrous results. Because the place that's been hit the most is the bookstore, people think You-Know-Who might be targeting the education system to try and stop himself from having any trained opposition. But apparently even the Leaky Cauldron was hit, causing a huge stir when a bunch of muggles started coming in."
"Spells breaking around the time of Harry's trial? You don't think that could have anything to do with that Mizuki lady bringing letters for Dumbledore to the house, do you? The first time it happened was the day of Harry's trial, remember?" Ron hypothesized.
Hermione frowned at this, "No, I don't think so. Remember, Dumbledore said that the person who wrote the letters was a friend of his. Maybe Dumbledore just let her know how to find the house?"
"With the way Moody was acting? I doubt it. Something seriously weird is going on, I'm telling you,"
"Is it really such a big deal? I mean, I know this house is under protective spells and all, but..."
"Look, I know you two may not understand being raised by muggles and all, but this house is protected under a Fid_ charm. That's practically the strongest magic protection you can get, outside of the really ancient stuff that's been around forever. It's not the sort of spell that someone can just waltz around all hunky-dory like," Ron argued back.
"...I wonder if that's why Sirius has been acting all grumpy and aloof lately," Harry pondered.
"I really don't think that's it," Hermione insisted. "He didn't seem too worried about the second letter, after all. Personally, I think his mood has more to do with you, Harry."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron questioned.
"Well, I think he likely just got his hopes up about the idea of Harry coming to live with him. It was rather selfish of him, in my opinion. He knows Harry belongs at Hogwarts," she explained.
"I don't think that's right," Harry insisted, "he wouldn't give me a strait answer when I asked him if I could."
"Oh, he just didn't want to get his hopes up even more," said Hermione wisely. "And he probably felt a bit guilty about it all, I think part of him was probably hoping that you'd be expelled so that the two of you could be together."
"That's a bit harsh, Hermione," said Ron, his prefect badge making its way out of his pocket and atop his folded robes. "You wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company, either."
"He'll have company! It's the headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it?" challenged the bushy haired girl.
"Oh, come off it, already!" Harry complained while Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione merely shrugged.
"Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."
"So you think he's touched in the head?" accused Harry heatedly.
"No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time," she defended her point.
Ron, seeing things were about to boil over again, attempted to change the topic by reverting to a previous subject. "Hey, wouldn't it be awesome if Professor Lupin came back to be the DADA teacher again? I mean think about it, a member of the Order, and the best teacher we ever had..."
However, his plan backfired as all he got out of Harry was a moody, noncommittal grunt, and from Hermione an almost scalding glare. "Ronald Weasley, you know perfectly well why he can do no such thing!"
The room went quiet for a bit, but it wasn't the comfortable sort of quiet they had earlier. Tempers were hot and anger and tension seemed to be rolling and coiling like some withering mass of serpents just under the silent atmosphere. The red-head was acutely aware of how it seemed that one wrong move or miss-chosen word would release a monster who's venomous bite would destroy them all. The seething was all too obvious, really, what with Hermione's too-stiff posture and Harry's overly forceful packing. It made part of Ron just want to run away from the room and hide, pretending the problem never happened, but he also felt obliged to try and rectify the situation as these were his two best friends.
Casting his eyes about, his gaze landed once again on his shiny new badge. "Still... who would have thought that I would be the new prefect of the year? I mean, Hermione was obvious, but out of all the guys in our year, I didn't think McGonagall would nominate me!"
"That's for bloody sure," Harry muttered out with a roll of his eyes, resentment thick in his voice.
Ron froze, stung by what his best friend had just said, before levelling him with a look. "What did you just say?"
"Oh, forget it," the Boy Who Lived grumbled.
"No. You obviously have something you'd like to say, and I think I ought to hear it!" Ron insisted stubbornly.
With a sudden surge of vindictive pleasure, Harry finally snapped. "Oh, you want to hear it? Fine! That badge should have been mine! I'm the one who saved Sirius from all those dementors! I'm the one who beat the bloody basilisk! I'm the one who went through all those Tasks last year and became the Hogwarts Champion! I'm the one who saved the world over and over from Voldemort! I deserve the recognition! The Ministry having their heads up their asses is no excuse for that old coot to ignore me like this! You support me, don't you? I'm the one all of this pertains to! The Order should be begging me to join and help them, not trying to lock me up in the dark like some criminal and not tell me anything!"
As Harry paused to take a few heaving breaths after his enraged rant, Hermione took the opportunity to stand and speak. "You're right, we do support you. But support is not the same as servitude. You're sounding like Malfoy, Harry, and if you think you can get away with treating us like Malfoy treats Crabbe and Goyle, you have another thing coming." With that, the bookworm turned sharply on her heal and marched out of the room.
Harry's jaw hung open for a moment at the accusation, part in shock that she would put him on the same level as Malfoy, and part in shock that she would dare turn her back on him like that. Ron, meanwhile, refused to make eye contact with him as he shuffled around the room, almost redder than his hair, and shoved the last of his things in his trunk. "I'm going to go check that I didn't leave anything elsewhere in the house," he muttered out stiffly, before stalking out of the room and away down the hall, leaving the shorter boy alone in the room with his thoughts.
It was around 4:30 at the Reed Mansion, and Sakura was already hard at work in the kitchen helping Eriol to prepare the food for that night's dinner. He had her chopping up vegetables for a salad while he mixed up the ingredients to make the dressing and ensured the turkey had all the trimmings before putting it in the oven.
Though she adored the fact that she was being allowed to help, and loved spending time with her friend/father's other half, her hands still came to a slow stall and her brow furrowed. She didn't know how to explain it, but she had this overwhelming sensation that something was going to be coming soon. Something that would effect her in the future. To make things more perplexing, Eriol stepped away from his preparations and wordlessly opened the kitchen window, which struck Sakura as somehow being the proper action to take.
Her confusion became sated a minute later when an owl swooped through the open window, causing the Card Mistress to give a little jump and exclaim "Hoe!" The brown bird landed on the counter next to the small Japanese girl and held its foot aloft to show off the letter which it deposited in her hand when she reached for it. Then, with one mighty flap of its wings, the bird lifted off and flew away.
Sakura opened the envelope and took out the single sheet of parchment it contained, looking at it carefully and trying her best to decipher the meaning. "Is everything alright, Sakura-san?" Eriol asked, voice pitched in polite curiosity though largely without any immediate concern.
"I don't know," the girl admitted. "I'm having troubles reading this... Can you help me, Eriol-kun?"
The ancient reincarnation turned to her with a smile, "Of course. Here, let me see..." Taking the letter from her, Eriol played the part of scanning over the document quickly before he began to explain. "It says here that one of the teachers has changed, and that the new teacher will be requiring the students to buy a new book for her class."
"Hoeee... A new book? But there's no time to go all the way to Daigon Alley to buy it before the store closes! What am I going to do?" Sakura began to panic.
Drawn by the Mistress's distress, the door was soon pushed open and a head of silver hair poked through. "Sakura, is everything alright?"
"Oh, Yuki," Sakura acknowledged before going on to answer his question. "The letter says I have to have a new book, but there's no time to get it tonight, and I have to leave on the train in the morning!"
"The letter was likely sent out late last night or early this morning to inform the students, but with the fact that Sakura-san was coming from outside of Great Britain must have caused a mix-up in the mail," Eriol provided the explanation sagely.
There was a moment of silence following this statement as he let the other two have their pensive moment. Finally, Yukito spoke up a suggestion. "I could conceivably go and buy the book in the morning while you catch the train, Sakura. You would have to ride alone, but as Yue I would have no problem catching up to you and following the train from the air."
Sakura's face lit up at the suggestion, "Oh, would you Yuki? That wouldn't make Yue too tired, would it? I wouldn't be completely alone, I'd have Kero-chan with me, but if it's too much trouble..."
"Not at all," Yukito insisted, while Yue felt the need to speak up through him to add, "I live to serve."
Mrs Weasley got home around five that evening, and handed out everything she had purchased. It was obvious to Harry that Hermione had been less than thrilled with her present, but had done her best to smile politely as she took her new things to pack away and get a head start on her new book. Ron had wandered back up the stairs with his new broom, holding it aloft as if it would break with the lightest of jostles.
Still upset and uncomfortable about the argument he had gotten into with Ron and Hermione earlier, Harry opted to give his friend some space before he returned upstairs. Instead, he tried to endear himself to Ron's mother in hopes of being cheered up. "What's for dinner, Mrs. Weasley?"
"Oh, that won't be for a while yet, dear," Mrs. Weasley informed. "It's been decided that there's going to be a party tonight, to celebrate Ron and Hermione's becoming Prefects! Oh, I'm still all a titter! It's just so heartening!"
Harry forced a smile, "Ah, I see..." he responded, before turning and hurrying off. He just didn't know how to quell this storm of jealous indignation. A party, huh? his mind lingered on that fact. Part of him, the part that was able to be happy for his friends, was excited at the prospect of a big, fun, happy party to put the water back under the bridge and get back to his usual self. But on the other hand, the much larger part of him that was angry for being ignored and underestimated and slandered and a million other horrible things could only focus on one fact: They didn't throw a party for me, when I got cleared after my court case!
And indeed, they hadn't. He had gotten the same treatment then that he had upon his first entering Grimmauld Place. He got shunted up the stairs and ignored while all the grownups gathered around in the basement and talked about a war that practically revolved around his existence. He was the important one, why couldn't they see that? No one else was nearly as special and important as he was, and he deserved to have it recognized, not be called some lying, deranged, psycho!
But then, that's what grownups did, wasn't it? They shut you away and ignored you, only taking you out when it benefited them. He knew that, he had learned it long ago, so why had he ever began to think these ones would be different? They had seemed so nice... but he couldn't rely on them, and apparently he couldn't rely on his friends, either. They had kept things from him as well, hadn't they? And now they were Prefects and adored and loved by everyone when he should have been the one getting all the praise. He had fought Voldemort, he had won the Tournament, he had beaten the dementors, all of it, all him!
The image of Cedric's dead body floated to the forefront of Harry's mind.
He had a headache. A low, deep throb that left him feeling tired and drained. He was discontent, dissatisfied with his life and unable to change it all because of a little scar. He felt a little like he was being unfair, taking things out on others, but he also felt like he deserved leniency on the matter, what with everything life had thrown at him these last... last what? Months? The Triwizard Tournament and its ending had hardly been the first time that his life had been on the line since entering the Wizarding World... So then years? But even before he entered Hogwarts, his life with the Dursleys had been no walk in the park...
With a sort of disturbing clarity, he realized just how screwed up his life had been and wondered if he had ever had a happy, peaceful childhood. After all, his parents had been forced into hiding when he was only a baby. Who's to say that back then hadn't been filled with just as much danger and fear as all the rest of his stay in the Wizarding World? Why did he have to be the one to deal with all this?
Maybe he really was going crazy? How did one tell without seeming crazy for checking? But then, how could he be normal with all that he had lived through? Was that why he had been so testy lately? That all this stress and trauma had just come to a head and finally made him crack under the pressure of it all? He felt kind of broken, with his head hurting and him having troubles acting like he normally did. Or perhaps that was just what everyone felt like when they were practically a murderer...
He was dead before he hit the ground, his blank eyes staring out into the cool night air...
Stop it! Harry screamed into his own mind. Don't think about it, just block it out and it will go away like all the other bad things do...
But the bad things didn't seem to be going away anymore. They just seemed to keep coming, and piling on bigger. But what should he do when he had no one he could turn to? The adults wouldn't tell him anything if he tried going to them, because he was "too young" to be a part of everything, "just a kid" even though it all revolved around him and it was his back that had the giant bullseye painted on it with the flashing neon sign over his head saying "Priority One Target" in multi-coloured flashing lights. And how could he go to his friends when they were part of the problem...?
"Harry...?" Ginny's voice, tilted with confusion, reached the black haired boy.
"Oh, Ginny," Harry acknowledged as he turned to look at the red haired girl, though he really wasn't sure where to go with it after that.
"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be packing?" she asked, indicating the landing of the eastern stairwell he had planted himself on when he had left Mrs. Weasley. He had thought it would be private, as the bedrooms were all down on the west wing and most the rest of the traffic used the main stairwell in the middle. He would have asked Ginny the question right back, but she was coming from the floor that had the study on it with an armload of obvious summer homework and reference books that she had probably left the last time she was in there getting her school work done.
When Harry hesitated to reply, Ginny huffed out in irritation. "This has to do with the fight you three got into, doesn't it?"
Harry felt his cheeks grow red, "You heard that, huh?"
"No," she acknowledged, putting down her books and sitting on the steps as well, "but Hermione came in and ranted at me and Tonks for a while afterwords. So I more or less know what happened. Wanna talk about it?"
"No," Harry huffed out stubbornly. "It's just that I don't really get it. What makes Ron so much more trustworthy than me? I'm the one who fought Voldemort, and the Basilisk, and saved the Stone! I've fought dementors, and dragons, and mermaids, and a sphinx... I'm the bloody Triwizard Champion, for Merlin's sake! So why won't Dumbledore trust me?!"
Ginny held a hand up and clamped it over Harry's ranting mouth. "Okay, whoa. Slow down there, Seeker. You aren't in a race for the Snitch, so just cool your jets for a bit. Firstly, what does any of that stuff have to do with being a Prefect? I mean, yeah, you did a lot of cool stuff and saved all our butts a couple times over, and I'm probably more grateful to you than most because you saved me personally.
"But, just because you're able to take on a dragon doesn't mean you're fit to lead the masses. Not everybody is meant to be a leader, and that's okay. It doesn't mean that those who aren't are worse people, or are liked or trusted any less, it just means that their role is something different. Besides, Hermione was a shoe-in for the job but Dumbledore and McGonagall made Ron the other Prefect for you..."
Harry yanked his head back from Ginny's fingers and looked at her accusingly. "What do you mean, 'for me'?!"
"Well, they're your support... they back you up and help you out with everything, no matter how dangerous things get. And everyone knows how hard the end of last year must have been for you... so they wanted to give you the freedom and resources that being a Prefect affords without the added responsibility being piled on to your plate. Because everyone knows that anything you'd need Prefect-level access for, Ron and Hermione will get for you, no questions asked..."
Harry blinked at the red haired girl in astonishment. "Why do you say all that?"
"Well, common, they're always helping you out with all the crazy things you get up to every year," Ginny pointed out.
"No, no," Harry waved her off, "I don't mean that. I meant why do you think that's what Dumbledore's up to with the decision?"
Ginny just shrugged. "Because, it just sort of makes sense. It's what I would do, at least, if I was in his place." Then the younger girl got a sort of distant smile on her face. "Still, I'm glad that it was Ron who was chosen. He's dreamed of this for so long..."
"He has?" Harry questioned, confused.
"Yeah," Ginny said a little wistfully and a little like she thought he ought to know this by now himself. "Don't tell Ron I let you know, but he's always really idolized Bill. Wanted to grow up to be just like him when we were little. I guess it would be probably because of mom and dad, now that I think about it.
"Bill is the oldest, and was the first to go to Hogwarts. I was only a year old when he started his first year. Me and Ron, all we ever really knew of him were the stories mom and dad would tell us of him, they were always talking about him and the others, later when they started Hogwarts, too. I guess they were trying to keep them fresh in our minds, but their names were said so often that I think Ron got it in his head that Bill was special somehow. He started trying to emulate Bill's actions and such...
"Of course as soon as Fred and George realized this they began teasing Ron mercilessly about it, so he stopped whenever they were around. But still... I don't think he ever stopped idolizing them. Bill, being popular and stylish, with being a Prefect and later Head Boy. Of course, Charlie became Quidditch Captain instead of Head Boy, but him too, in a way. I think what Ron was looking for was to be someone mom would be as proud of and talk as much about as Bill and Charlie. He doesn't really get how much she praises him when he's not around, the sorts of things she says to strangers... but still, I'm happy for him that his dreams are starting to come true."
"Yeah..." Harry found himself agreeing. And this time agreeing for real, not just because he felt he was supposed to be polite and congratulate his friend. He remembered now, the Mirror of Erised and what Ron had seen in it. Acceptance, acknowledgement, attention... Harry's own reflection would never be realized, and though not all of Ron's were likely to ever take place, it felt nice to know that his friend was on the first step to realizing at least some of his dreams.
"Well, I need to get back to packing," Ginny suddenly announced, standing up and gathering her things once more. "You should, too. We're leaving in the morning, remember, and it's getting late."
"Ah, yeah... thanks," Harry said as Ginny went up the stairs ahead of him. He waited until she was out of sight before pulling himself to his feet as well. He meandered more slowly back to his and Ron's room, where he found the redhead sitting on his bed. A look of apprehension clouded Ron's blue eyes for a moment when he caught sight of Harry in the doorway, "hey."
"Hey," Ron replied, obviously not sure where things were going.
"So..." Harry began, feeling like he was testing the waters. "I guess I've been kinda acting like a bit of a jerk lately, huh?"
"Yeah, well..." Ron gave a shrug, "you've been through a lot this last little bit. Anyone would be testy in your situation."
"All the same, I'm not looking forward to the earful Hermione's going to give me over it later," Harry acknowledged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just hope she doesn't make a scene in the middle of the party your mom's throwing for you guys."
Ron gave a groan, "Seriously? God, mom can be so embarrassing some times... Really, she's making way too big a fuss over this. Fred and George'll give me hell for sure, now!"
Harry just laughed at his friend's expense, knowing whatever the twins chose to do to stop Ron's head from swelling thanks to the promotion would be more than enough to make the job not worth having. "Hey, at least you got a new broom out of it! Lemme see it?"
"Sure!" Ron agreed, and dove for his prize once more.
Well, I was originally going to drag this out through the party and make a big deal over the bogart scene, but then Ginny came along and decided to hijack everything and change the ending of the chapter. So now it ends with the boys bonding over Quidditch. The whole thing with the party and the bogart still happens, but it's not really altered enough to make it so very different from the book as to be mandatory to rewrite. Just be aware that it happens, and recall that Mrs. Weasley went up near the end of the party to deal with the bogart which kept transforming into dead loved ones. Harry's face is among the many shown killed, which spooks the shit out of Sirius and Remus.
Other than that, writing semi-possessed, angry teenagers is very difficult for a happy-go-lucky person like myself. Therefore, Harry's fits of jealous rage will likely be few and far between. I know it's a side effect of the horcrux, bla blabla bla bla, but just to make sure that the story will actually progress and I won't keep getting stuck on his characterization, I'll probably tone it down (and may even end up accidentally forgetting it from time to time) to just general annoyed and snippy rather than full out hissyfits from now on. But yeah, if he seems OOC or any of the dialogue he had appears forced, its because a lot of it was.
Other things of note, I see Hermione being the sort of kid who grew up listening to the older sort of music on records and cassettes because that's what her parents listened to. I don't see her as the sort to have been into teenybopper type stuff, so recent music (as in 1995 recent) wouldn't really be her style. I chose Whiter Shade of Pale because it's from her parents generation and I didn't want to do anything like Beatles, and I can't really see her as the sort to chill to the likes of Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd. Nor is she really the sort to do disco or motown type music.
Also, in case you didn't catch it, Angelina Johnson had a summer job this year working for the bookstore. She's the one at the till when Mrs. Weasley buys her books and she's also the one that helped Yukito and Sakura a few chapters back to get the book off the top shelf. That fact isn't too very important, but if it comes up in passing anywhere, I just want to make note of it so no one can say "that came out of nowhere!"
And that's really all I can think of to say, the rest seems somewhat self-explanatory to me. There may be some notes and referencing to things that happened over the course of this evening that weren't touched on in future chapters, but none of it really seems relevant to the plot in a way that needs to be written out as full-blown chapters. Look forward to the next chapter when everyone finally gets on the train.