Chapter Eleven Dumbledore's Rotten Holidays
AN: this was betead by Philosophize check his stories they are awesome.
I wasn't planning on releasing this chapter till I was at least halfway done with chapter 13, but since it is my birthday today I decided to give you all a little present. Cheers ND.
Anyhow kudos to those who will recognise the odd reference to one pretty famous english band.
Disclaimer: Not mine I am just playing in others people sandboxes.
Albus Dumbledore slowly sipped his evening nightcap as he reflected on the events of the last few weeks, events which made him feel all his years. He felt the pleasant burning of the alcohol down in his throat and a few seconds later he let out small belch of fire. After a brief moment of consideration, he poured himself another.
Sipping this second drink more slowly, his thoughts turned to reflect on the year as a whole. The tournament had become a small bureaucratic nightmare because minister shovelled nearly all responsibility for the tournament at the dynamic duo of Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, both of whom knew next to nothing about the job (mainly Bagman), had no desire to participate in organization of an event in which he had to work with foreigners (also Bagman, but mainly Couch), or were so surly that they annoyed those foreigners they did work with (Crouch).
This all lead inevitably to a rare moment of cooperation between the duo, when they transferred their responsibilities elsewhere - and it naturally ended up on Dumbledore's desk. So of course he had to do most of the work to manage a tournament he hadn't really wanted in the first place.
Then his thoughts inevitably turned to the youngest champion, or unwilling participant as she put it. It was infuriating how she refused to cooperate.
She kept insisting that she didn't enter, which he knew to be true, but in a grand scheme of things he needed to see how she fared under pressure and hate from most of her peers over the course the year. That had been put to an end when she unexpectedly swore a magical oath.
Certainly if this was the usual circumstances he could have suppressed it, but with all the foreign officials milling around it had proven too difficult to keep that development quiet. He did manage to keep it from the press, at least, and it would have long been forgotten by now if the girl hadn't somehow miraculously botched that patronus that was still running around, reminding everyone of it.
He still couldn't for life figure out how did she'd managed that or how on earth that blasted dog could turn corporeal and back to incorporeal whenever he wanted. And then she kills a dragon with what she claimed was a muggle rifle! After many tries he'd eventually managed to disassemble it, but didn't find any traces of magic or runes on it. It was maddening. And now she had to pull another stunt.
She had to ask a girl out to the ball!
A girl and of a foreign nationality to boot.
It was a disaster, and he was having a very hard time keeping the news from spilling out of Hogwarts. To make things worse, the girl she asked out was pureblood - if she were a muggleborn he could at least encouraged rumours that the muggleborn had used her lack of proper upbringing to ensnare young impressionable Potter heiress. So he was still doing damage control.
He lamented that he couldn't use his usual methods to fix these problems because there were too many people watching for any dramatic personality shifts to go unnoticed. Otherwise, Potter would be right now dosed up to her gills with love potions, just like Molly wanted. He sighed again, wondering how he would fulfil his need to affiliate Potter with a light pureblood family. The Weasleys were ideal, and his contract would help - despite the fact that Molly had dictated the terms, he had been careful enough to insert enough loopholes that he could change it to fit his purposes.
At least Christmas started in a week, and with a bit luck, the whole debacle with Potter and the French tart would soon blow over.
The phoenix in the room would have let mournful song about his bonded one's hypocrisy, but after so many years in Dumbledore's company he just couldn't muster energy to give a damn anymore.
Dumbledore finished his drink and poured a third, as it seemed he would have to rethink his plans for Potter. Probably completely change the summer plans and have her confined in Burrow until September, but that would destroy the blood wards!
After a few minutes of pondering he came to provisional solution: let Potter to go to Privet Drive, but after one day move her to the Burrow. The blood wards could be kept alive if he stopped in one night to perform a ritual using as much of her magical power as he could to power it. One added bonus was that it would leave her weak for a few weeks, which meant that she'd be more susceptible to mind magic and mind altering potions. With this settled he patted himself on his back for his brilliance and poured a fourth drink, gulping it down. He felt a little bad, taking over a child's life like this, but it was necessary for the good of many and of the world. Knowing that he served the greater good calmed his conscience and with that he went to bed.
He never noticed that the doodad he had connected with the blood wards, monitoring them for any problems, had collapsed nearly month ago and was lying motionless on his shelf.
Sam woke up in excited anticipation of what the day would bring. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Sam had lots of plans for the day. Lots of people were planning to go there to buy dresses for the Yule Ball, so she expected there to be a lot of commotion and overcrowding in the village that she could use as a distraction.
She had already informed Hermione and Luna that she needed to go discreetly to London and asked for their help. Essentially they would misdirect anybody who asked where she was, saying that she'd just left to the different shop and thereby sending them on wild goose chase. Hermione suggested enlisting aid from rest of their group of friends, but only telling them that she wished to have a little peace for her Christmas shopping, and they all readily agreed.
So once in the village, she quietly ducked out of her group of friends and donned her invisibility cloak as she snuck into the Three Broomsticks. Despite it being late morning, the place was bursting with customers. After one carefully aimed tripping jinx, followed by many cries in a spirit "my beer!" a bar brawl followed during which nobody noticed the floo being activated.
Tom the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron was having a slow morning and he was gently nodding off behind the bar when he was suddenly roused from his half asleep state. He looked around and couldn't see anything out of place, but he would swear that he heard the floo going off, followed by a soft thud and something that sounded like softly said "Kurva".
After a few seconds he heard the entrance to alley going off as he concluded that a customer just walked through the Leaky and didn't need anything, with that concluded he went back to his nodding.
Sam briskly walked through the alley before stopping at the unassuming house hosting a number of practises neatly listed on a large brass plate next to the door. Sam looked over the brass plates until she reached the last, which said:
"Theodore Tonks, Barrister & Solicitor, JuMDr. (Judicus Magicus Doctor) LL.M. (Legal Law Master)."
Sam shook her head - she would probably never completely understand the wizarding word as the plate spoke the text she was reading from it. With a last look at the plates she entered the building and shrugged off her cloak, stuffing it into her pocket, before knocking on the lawyer's door.
Theodore Tonks, often known as Ted, lifted his head from his paperwork to see a young witch entering his office. The day was slow, and he didn't have many clients lately despite his high education because his blood status was a severe impediment to his business. He didn't expect anybody today, but then she sauntered in like she owned the world. He thought that her face seemed familiar and was sure that he'd seen it somewhere, but where?
"Greetings. Doctor Tonks, I presume?" she asked.
He nodded warily. "Yes that's me, to whom I have the honour?" he asked.
She smiled before she asked, "May I sit?"
"Certainly." Ted agreed.
She sat and she folded her fingers into a pyramid peering at him calculatingly over them for a few seconds, before she spoke. "Doctor Tonks, before I divulge anything, I need to know what level of confidentiality you provide for any information I divulge here, including my name."
He looked at her with an intrigued expression, before he answered. "As per rules of this practice I am not of liberty to divulge any information about a client without direct permission from the client or a court order. If it is required I will take a vow of secrecy., he replied, and she again gave him another calculating look, before she nodded.
"That should be acceptable for the moment. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Miss Harriet Potter. I assume you've heard of me."
Ted had to call on his years of practice not to gape and he restrained the urge not to look on the young woman's forehead.
He focussed on her eyes and absentmindedly he noticed the small circles around her whites. "Contact lenses" he assumed as he composed himself.
"Miss Potter it is a surprise, but shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?"
She smirked at his question and instead of giving him an answer she reached into her robes she pulled out a book with few colourful sticky notes bookmarking certain pages.
"Mr. Tonks, could you tell me what you conclude from the bookmarked sections," she said. He reached into his table and pulled his reading glasses as he took the offered book. The cover said "Updated rules of the Triwizard Tournament." He flipped the book open to the marked pages and went through it. He looked at her, before he slowly spoke.
"If I am understating this correctly, the fact that you have been chosen and have completed the first task means that you are now legally considered adult in the wizarding world. And if I am not mistaken, since you are the last living member of your family, you have become the head of the house Potter."
She nodded as she pulled a seal ring signifying her headship. "Very well, Doctor Tonks that is indeed correct, I wish to hire you for your services, under the condition that you will keep any hint of my direct involvement in this quiet. From your titles I can guess you are more than adequately familiar with muggle law, correct?
"Yes, I do have a shoe firmly in both words, as the saying goes," Ted answered and the grin on the young woman's face on the other side of table gained shark like appearance.
"Then do tell me, what do you know about copyright laws in the wizarding world?"
Ted leaned back in his chair, "this should be interesting," he thought as he began speaking.
An hour later Sam walked out of the office under the cloak with a smile on her lips, and if people could see her they would know that it wasn't a nice smile.
Sam briskly walked through the Leaky into London, making stops in a few shops and by Boris for a little something for the upcoming second task as well as a visit to Paranoid Pete.
Paranoid Pete (Not a real name, after so many changes of identity, even he didn't knew his real name.), as his nickname suggested, was extremely paranoid and also best man to go to if you needed a new identity or passport. It was only thanks to Boris' word that he even agreed to meet her for the first time back in the summer. From him she obtained one passport sans photograph for Sirius, then she returned via Dobby to Hogsmeade in time to catch the last carriage to the castle. All in all it was a productive day.
It didn't take long for the week to fly by and then Christmas Eve was upon them.
Sam spent most of the day with her friends and in the late evening she spent it alone with Jerry's head in her lap, silently reminiscing about her childhood and her parents, both of whom had passed away over ten years before her car accident.
Sam was thankful for the mail ordering services of number of shops, without which her Christmas shopping would have been much harder. She had bought a very nice book on muggle painting methods for Luna with a quality painting set for these methods, for Hermione she had a luxury German inkwell pen, as well as one of the first editions of the Lord of the Rings.
As a little Christmas present she sent an envelope to the headmaster in which was a receipt - which she had needed a few hours to create with an R.o.R typing machine - for one slightly used M95 sniper rifle, ammunition, and accessories, totalling for $7,000 She include a handwritten note explaining that it equalled £3890, or 77 Galleons, 13 Sickles, 18 Knuts give or take a knut and, if he refused to return her rifle, she wanted him to pay for it.
She even went so far as to have the amount written into one of her bank statements which intercepted by Dumbledore so he would believe she had taken the money from her vault.
That Christmas morning Sam grinned because Luna's face was buried in the new encyclopaedia and Hermione's in The Fellowship, gently touching each page as if it was a newborn babe.
Sam received a leather Jacaru Swagman hat from Hermione, which was now sitting on her head, and a painting of herself with Hermione Luna, Jerry-Lee and Hedwig from Luna. In the morning Hedwig swept into the room giving Sam beautiful tail eagle owl quill, which explained why Malfoy's majestic eagle owl looked so ruffled lately.
And Jerry-Lee proudly presented her with a fifteen pairs of socks - it was odd as it was only one from the pair and all were garishly coloured. Sam had a sinking feeling to whom they all belonged, and she knew had to get herself rid of them or else it would be a mess of epic proportions, but still the thought behind it warmed her heart and she got out the largest tin of the best and most luxurious owl and dog treats for them. Triple bacon for Hedwig and Jalapenos treats for Jerry. It still baffled Sam that Jerry apparently still could eat in his state. And his tooth for hot and spicy things remained too.
She found out this, one november day when she asked Dobby to prepare pot of beef and Jalapenos Chili for lunch. Other elves were interested in the meal and ended preparing few pots of them. And when Sam just finished putting her serving of Chili into bowl, Jerry appeared out of nowhere and in front of everyone jumped on the table and ate everything from the pot next to Sam in a span of a few seconds, then he let out a horrendous belch, before slowly walking away. The rest of the day he spent just lying around, heaving and occasionally letting loud and smelly belches. He had one of the most ridiculously contented and blissful expression.
Meanwhile, in London.
An old Russian man woke up and padded to the kitchen to put the kettle for the tea, when he noticed a large Christmas stocking over his desk. He was sure he'd put the alarm on, and all entrances and windows were locked tight, but still the foreign object got in. On it was note which he carefully opened with a pair of tweezers - he had a lot of enemies from his long life Postoyannaya bditel'nost' was his life motto. Inside of it was simple:
"Merry Christmas, from Little Tasha." In a chicken-scrawled Cyrillic.
His eyebrow rose as he carefully pulled on his gloves and opened the stocking. Inside of it he found one large bottle of the best Russian Honey Vodka, one large tin of caviar, a jar of sour cream, a small paper box with still-warm bliny's inside, and a carefully wrapped package.
He carefully unwrapped it and inside was pair of gloves made from some kind of leather which he didn't recognize. They were some kind of cured scaled hide, he could tell that much, and very pleasant on the touch. He examined at the tin of caviar, "Beluga from Russia," he gave satisfied nod as he reached for plate, knife and shot glass. "Well this looks like this will be really nice little Christmas," Boris thought as he started to prepare bliny's with sour cream and caviar as an unexpected treat for Christmas breakfast.
Meanwhile, in a certain castle in certain headmasters bedchamber.
Albus Dumbledore was raging because somebody had broken into his private bedchamber and, despite of all his security measures, had stole one from each of his best garish socks. It was an outrage that he would now be forced to wear those dull white socks.
XxX
Soon it was lunch and time to change into presentable clothing. During her meal Sam kept avoiding looking at the head table where the headmaster was in foul mood. According to the rumor mill, somebody broke into his private chambers and stole something. Outside the gentle snow was covering the whole of Hogwarts with white blanket, and with a sigh she lifted herself to get changed. When she reached the Gryff common room she was again accosted by mo-Ron, who had seemed to have been waiting there for her.
"Come on," he whinged in a voice that he seemed to think sounded charming, but which in reality sounded like he had something up his nose. "Hars, come off it. Going ta the ball with a bird is so stupid, you still hafe tha chance ta make it right by going with a man! I can…hmpf" He didn't get to say more as Sam's wand was in her hand and fired three spells: one bound Ron with ropes, the second created rope gag and the third stuck him to the wall.
Sam tucked the wand into her sleeve and said, "No, I already have a date." Sam muttered a few insults as she walked away with her nose up in the air.
The dorm room was in a pure chaos as girls were preparing for each other respective dates, Hermione was, thanks to the Sleekeazy potion managing her hair, and after briefly after watching the chaos Sam joined in as she started to prepare.
When Sam emerged few hours later she was in black tux with long tails, a white shirt, a white vest, and a loose black bow tie. She had briefly considered including a top hat with the ensemble, but decided to forgo the headwear.
The ball went on as expected. She and her date endured a few disapproving glares, which she studiously ignored, the two danced, and Sam even let few others dance with her. On the whole, she was content with her evening. Weasley, who until the last second was pestering her and Hermione, was sorely disappointed that they went with their dates and not with him. Hermione looked radiant in her dress, Luna was obviously happy with her partner, and everything went well.
Michelle, as Sam found out loved dancing, even with an inept dance partner like Sam, and surprised Sam by continuing to talk her into more dances throughout the night
The Wyrd Sisters played several waltzes in addition to their own music, and Sam was content dancing to both types. When not dancing, they all sat together at the champions' table where Sam used the opportunity of having all champions present to bring up the second task and subtly asking if any of them had solved their eggs yet, but they looked askance at what they perceived as her trying to pump them for information.
Sam decided to play it differently, using brutal honesty for a change. "Look, I can speculate that you all did get the clue from the egg and my question is, have you considered what or rather who they might take?" She asked as she sipped her butterbeer, idly wishing that it was glass of Martini or real beer, nice cold Pilsner now that would be nice she wished internally. Her question was followed by sharp intakes of breaths and surprised expressions on the face of the other champions.
"Are you sure wiz zat?" asked Fleur, with Victor and Cedric seeming to agree.
"I don't know how about you, but I always value people more than things. Things can be replaced, but friends cannot. And face it, since when have the judges cared for the safety of the students?"
Sam decided to strike the iron while she had their attention and continued, "I mean, look at me, they could have let me out of the tournament in matter of hour after the choosing, but instead they are forcing me to face trials that are deadly to people three year older and way more experienced than me."
"I hate to break it to you, Ms Potter, but you had the fastest time in the first task and you did kill the Drakon." Victor pointed out.
"But I didn't do it with any magical means. In fact, all I used were strictly muggle items to achieve the goal. Though, I admit getting them here was slightly complicated, " Sam said with a shrug.
"So you are saying you killed the dragon with muggle rifle, that was it, just how it was possible?" Cedric asked to clarify.
Sam shrugged. "I used what muggle armies call a light fifty. That rifle was chambered for an fifty calibre round - the dimension of the ammunition is roughly half an inch thick. That's where they get the name fifty, and it's big enough to punch hole through nearly an inch of steel plate from 1000 yards away. No joke, this is written in the rifle's manual."
The champions looked stunned at her.
"And muggles 'ave zese zings commonly available?" Fleur asked.
"Not in corner stores where anyone can buy them, but every muggle army has not only weapons like them, but even more devastating weapons as well. Weapons that can devastate whole cities in a seconds," Hermione added her two cents.
Several heads at the table turned at her she blushed a bit and explained. "My father used to be in army special forces, back before he became dentist, and he's talked about such things." At the not completely comprehending looks she tried to clarify for the wizard-raised. "He was like muggle hit wizard before he became muggle teeth healer."
That brought few shudders, killer became torturer and that was Hermione's father. Most of the Champions were afraid to ask what Hermione's mother did. Soon the champions returned to the topic of the second task as they started to discuss what had Sam presented to them, not liking the implication, but not finding anything to disprove it.
xXx
Ron Weasley was sitting alone in the corner fuming because he was being ignored "Who do those the bitches think they are?" He muttered to himself as he picked at the ugliest dress robes imaginable, robes which he thought had once been ornamental orange curtains in its previous life, and started to eat his fifth helping of dinner.
"Potter thinks she can just ignore me and send that demonic dog on me, ME and nobody sees that... and she takes some French hussy to the ball instead of me... and the backup bookworm then has the gall... no what is the word she use deme…no, temerity! That's right, she has the temerity to betray Hogwarts with the Durmstrang Champion, then suddenly she looks like girl and Potter has new robes... that's not fair, what've I got? And that Veela chic throws fireballs at me, I bet it's Potter fault that she treats me like mud."
Ron's piggy eyes fogged as his few brains cells worked overtime to come up with an idea, completely oblivious to a stream of drool coming from the corner of his mouth.
After Michelle had finally traded her in for a more competent dancer Sam, found herself standing near the podium with the band. During the last dance she'd caught a glimpse of Ron in orange curtains, sitting at a table alone frozen like a Windows Vista, probably trying to eat and think at the same time before being overloaded. When she looked again, he was still sitting there frozen and Sam's mind quickly drew a picture of blue screen of death over his eyes, chuckling at the mental picture.
Her attention returned to the band because for a good while now she'd had the niggling feeling she'd seen them somewhere else but couldn't think of what the setting had been, though her money was on the music club in Soho
Soon it was clear that the ball was winding down, with most couples having already left to either go to bed or explore the gardens. Once the bad finished with what was obviously their last song, the lead vocalist stepped forward to address the remaining few dancers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you, you have been a lovely audience. It was awesome to be here again, and we hope you enjoyed this event as much as we did. Fear not, though, we're not leaving just yet, we're staying for a bit for an after-ball jam, and anyone who wants to join or get an autograph is welcome to come."
Sam was just about to go back to the champions' table, when a voice from behind her. "Ahh, miss Potter am I right?"
Sam looked and saw the lead vocalist Connor Crumble approaching her.
"Yes?"
"As Tommy said, we are going to jam here, I hear from my little cousin you play bit of guitar. Wanna join?"
Sam thought about the offer and decided that it would be a really nice ending for the evening.
"Sure why not," she answered with a smile as she hopped on the podium and Tommy handed an acoustic guitar. Sam sat and did two resolute strikes against the strings. Her mind whirled around what to play before her bluesy heart decided, and with that she started to play "Sweet home Chicago."
Halfway into the song the drummer and keys joined her. Once she finished the first words she heard were, "Girl, you can surely play." They laughed at that as they picked another song. A few minutes later Sam managed to get two whole two syllables from Dobby when he showed up and handed her guitar and hat.
At the questioning looks she shrugged. "That was Dobby, more or less my house elf, but I'm thinking of renaming him Radar, 'cause he knows what I want before I can say it." They all complimented her on the guitar, asking if it was from Stan's shop in Diagon Alley. It wasn't long before they delved into another bluesy jam session.
Three songs later, Jerry Lee joined them for what Tommy jokingly called Monsieur Nobs solo.
xXx
Ron glared at the podium where Sam and the others were playing. Not many people were paying attention to the music coming from it because the amplification charms had been cancelled , not that he knew this. Ron was glaring because he saw Potter sitting with the musicians, playing on that blasted piece of wood. "Showing off again, like true fame monger, showing off... Ohh, I Have an house elf, why can't that little twerp come to my calls, huh? I was the one who led her to the Chamber. I did more important stuff... he should come to my call not hers." He glared even more as he hear them laughing when they started to sing some song about bright side of life and more people from the crowd joined them. Ron finally decided that he'd had enough of this nonsense. He was The Man and he should act like that by putting his foot down. With that Ron resolutely marched over to the podium.
XxX
Sam was having her time of life. It had been far a too long since she'd had a good jam session with musicians that she just clicked with. They'd finished one of Sam's personal favourite songs and she'd just propped her guitar next to her before reaching for the open bottle of butterbeer on her side when she vaguely registered that someone was calling at her, but she was absorbed with the company of fellow musicians that she just ignored it. All of the sudden she was overcome with a feeling in her gut - a feeling that she knew very well and never dared to ignore because it had saved her ass in many situations. It was screaming at her to dodge, which was exactly what she did - and just in time, too, because less than a second later her guitar exploded.
Gasps from people around who joined them for a bit sing-along and then deafening silence followed. Sam was staring at the mangled remnants of her beautiful guitar.
Then an cruel laugh broke the spell and Sam's gaze slowly turned to the source of the laugh, only to see Ronald still with his hand raised his wand in his fingers.
In that moment her vision turned to a red-misted tunnel solely focused on Ronald. Her heartbeat became deafening thunder against her ears, and her magic was a tightly coiled spring just begging to be released.
People around could see as Harriet Potter turned slowly, almost mechanically, to face Ronald Weasley, her face turning into a stone mask with only her eyes betraying the inferno raging inside, so bright that they were almost glowing.
Her moved in an invisible wind, and some would swear they saw small wisp of energy started to form around her palms. Then she moved, pulled her wand faster than anyone could blink, and fired a spell.
To be honest Sam didn't know how she managed to keep the spell to Expelliarmus, probably because she wanted to kill him with her bare hands, not that anyone heard her to actually say the incarnation, but the big fast jet of red light was a solid hint what she cast.
It hit Ron square into his chest, sending him flying good ten feet before he slammed into a wall and slid down to the floor. His wand flew into Sam's hand and she casually snapped it.
Sam started to move almost mechanically while Luna and Hermione exchanged looks, quickly coming the conclusion that if they didn't do something their best friend/older sibling would probably go and beat Ron to death.
They both hastily ran to the marching Ri and simultaneously grabbed her by one hand each, murmuring calming words to their raging friend before managing to drag the fuming redhead out of the Great Hall.
As Hermione counted, only half of the things Ri was saying were coherent and only fraction of it was in English, but she could still tell they were all addressed to Ron, promising him a long and painful death as well as damning him to an nth degree. It took them a good hour and help from both Hedwig and Jerry to calm her down to be a rational being again rather than a homicidal ruffian.
Unfortunately, a certain bug witnessed the whole altercation
xXx
Albus Dumbledore massaged his head in frustration. The Yule ball just could have ended even worser than he could even hope. First Harriet Potter did indeed come to the ball with a girl. She was even dressed in a tux, reminding him of an muggle actress he'd seen on posters in 30's, then she and all champions ended in a hushed conversation, giving him and the other judges suspicious glares for most of the dinner. All of that was minor, though, compared to the incident that happened later.
Ronald went and fired a spell at Harriet, in public in front of everyone, when she joined the band for an after-ball jam. And the moron just had to hit the Potters instrument. To make the matters even worse, it had all been witnessed by none other than Rita Skeeter, who then had the whole last incident smeared across the first page of the morning edition. Calling it that the youngest lovelorn Weasley son had tried to kill the object of his unreciprocated affections. Curiously, the headmaster couldn't seem to remember seeing her there.
Now the DMLE was breathing down his neck as the instrument proved to be damaged beyond repair and its price was originally nearly 100 Galleons, but taking into consideration who owned it and the fact that all members of the Wyrd Sister stated that its owner played it quite skilfully, the price was estimated to be over 150 Galleons.
That was money, which Weasleys didn't have, and it would ruin them getting it. He'd just had a meeting with the young Potter and an Senior auror John Dawlish who had been sent to the castle by the Minister Fudge.
In the end, Miss Potter had proposed a compromise, disagreeing with the opinion of Dawlish that heavy fine that would destroy Weasleys. It wasn't completely Forgive and Forget like Albus had pushed for, but some would call it reasonable. Miss Potter demanded that Ron pay the whole value of the guitar within five years after finishing Hogwarts, and that he be forbidden from using any money he gained by any other means than his own work. What's more, he was to be put under a restraining order not to approach Harriet Potter until she said otherwise or in class, as Albus resolutely refused to resort him. If Ron breached any of those conditions, he could be sentenced to Azkaban for up to four months and have his wand snapped.
When this was finished and Albus tried to voice his disappointment to Harriet, saying that she should have forgiven Ronald, and also expressed his disappointment that she even didn't look Dumbledore in the eyes when she spoke with him, she just brusquely asked if he read the receipt and that she wanted her rifle back.
He refused to do so, claiming that it would not be returned because it is obviously artefact of dark nature which was within his rights to seize. He didn't miss her eye roll or huff as she left wordlessly his office. He might have won this small round around this "rifle," but on the whole he felt he'd been losing the ground under his feet regarding Harriet Potter. The summer couldn't come soon enough in his mind. He regretted letting her compete, but he needed to see what she was capable off.
And on top of that he had to listen to Molly's screeching about her boy being victimised.
Albus finished his nightcap and huffed "What a rotten holidays."
