The Masks that Words Make
A/N: Thanks to all the readers, followers, favourite-markers, and reviewers: Gime'SS, WhiteEagle1985, daithi4377, Hamm on Wry, mwinter1, flame55, bet7368, sassy (Guest), Q (Guest who hates Hermione), Cool Fanfiction Lover, sunsethill, Dark Lord Tater Tot, Dr. Stranger, Harriverse, Tork01, and Calmzone1.
I am done with the exams (we have them during the first three weeks of March under the aegis of the State Board), and do hope that I have done well enough for my purposes. I have fully planned itinerary for my holidays, and writing remains a part of it.
Warning: there are two Wizengamot speeches in here which are long.
Do also read our other stories.
Lucius Malfoy was one irritated man. Well not irritated, exactly, because it did not describe the complete range of his frustration. Nonetheless, as with everything else, he would have to compromise with that thoroughly underwhelming description of his state.
Indeed, given how he felt cooped up, fighting a visibly invisible enemy, he almost felt...cuckolded...as far as his ambitions went. He knew that Black was nobody fit to be the Head of that prized House, and irrespective of the fact that he might have taken Dumbledore's advice, it didn't actually seem like that. After all, he couldn't see Dumbledore truly extending a hand of friendship towards the old Black allies, and in ways that seemed to make people think that they had misjudged the man after all. He had thought the same for a moment, one terrible, shameful, shameful moment.
And he still held the proof of that thought in his hands, a proof wherein Black had reiterated the small fact that he stood above the House of Malfoy, which was precisely why Lucius' father wanted him to marry into that family, and the reason why he had showered Narcissa with so much attention that even he had believed that he loved her for a while.
Head of House Malfoy,
(And there was the distinct lack of written respect, though nobody could actually complain with the strictly formal opening; his own obsequious patronisation – a rarely achieved combination – was always meant to befuddle Black.)
Your letter was with warmest regards received. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude for your good wishes on my recently regained freedom. Justice was indeed delayed and therefore denied, as it was in the turbulent times since the fall of the monster that many of us fell prey to – either as victims, or as gullible slaves to the honeyed words of a despicable murderer who has no doubt influenced his followers for eternity, for twelve long years.
(In simpler words, he was calling Malfoy a Death Eater and a despicable murderous monster. Lucius was both.)
The House of Malfoy has safeguarded what it believed the values of the House of Black to be, well during the same time, preserving the status quo. These past weeks have been fruitfully dedicated to reviewing all decisions so taken, all representations thereof made, and gathering a deeper understanding of the changing landscape of our society's policies. The House of Malfoy has ensured that the House of Black has not languished in obscurity. For that the House of Malfoy has the gratitude of House Black, no matter which way your esteemed self interprets the immediate reversion of the Wizengamot Seat to the Head of House in place of the regency till then honourably assumed.
(Initially, it made Lucius wonder. Was Black not what they thought him to be, after all? That brought another set of problems with it – Black now had public sympathy, Potter's ears, Dumbledore's trust and if he resumed leadership of the faction Lucius thought he now lead, he still could never be considered a usurper.
The second reading though, brought realisation. Translation: I am the Head of House Black, Lucy. It wasn't you – it isn't you. You have damaged our reputation, you pillock! You used and abused a position that was never yours. And I bloody well will hold you responsible for all the laws you voted in, you wanker. Of course, Lucius wouldn't even imagine himself being addressed thus.)
In view of the same, a gathering of all allies old and new, and of all living family, is arranged on the fifteenth of March at the Obsidian Gardens, which shall reflect the honour of the guests, and the host as well. The formal invitation, and the address and floo details, have been attached herewith, considering the fact that it was forgotten as the home of the Head of House Black, and in my absence, had fallen into considerable disrepair. My cousin, your esteemed Lady-Wife, will be glad to know that her childhood home and memories have been restored to their former intact and pristine state.
(She is provisionally welcome, because she still is family. You are an unwelcome add-on, a viper I must cling to because you need to be watched. And it bloody effing will be on my territory, not yours.)
The House of Black, herewith, humbly also apologises for not only declining your invitation but also for the disruption of the planned event that the House of Malfoy intended to host. It must be insisted though, that such a gathering – not a celebration, for this is no happy occasion but merely one that gives relief – be hosted by the House of Black, and not even Houses connected by alliance or relation.
Thank you for your forbearance, Head of House Malfoy. I look forward to meeting your esteemed self and your lady-wife on the aforementioned date.
In good faith and kinship,
Sirius Orion Black
Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black
This was...this was...Lucius had no real words to express his anger, his fury. There, pre-emptively, his plans of drawing attention to the idea that Sirius was irresponsible by pointing out that he had not called for a meeting himself was demolished. He had no doubt that the letters to the other Heads of House would follow a similar pattern, especially the line about the venue. Lucius did not want that place to be the Seat of the House of Black, as it were. His neglect of the place was intentional, for he wanted that seat to shift to the Malfoy Villa. Taking that place up and restoring it to its former glory – one that both Lucius and his father had envied – was a message sent in words as clear as they could politically be.
Sirius Black was the Head of House Black.
Any other claimants were...dubious.
And if that didn't make at least a few of the 'allies' dither, he didn't know what would. Oh, none of them would say it openly, for they all distrusted each other enough to know that this was a minor thing. No, it was Black making a statement that could potentially isolate him that was the problem.
He would have to take up Selwyn on his offer, it seemed.
And then an idea struck him. Yes. That would bring Black down a few pegs.
Over the coming days, the Daily Prophet decided to make Sirius the cynosure of its entirely unwanted and unwarranted attention, behaving quite like tabloids do with celebrities. First there were the two page spreads about the House of Black, its past members and so on and so forth, as well as a list of its descendants. While Ron (through Cederella Weasley nee Black) and Neville (through Callidora Longbottom nee Black) attracted curious stares from other students, and especially those like several of the 'former' Death Eater names, the relation of the Potters to the House of Black was assiduously ignored – both that of Dorea Potter, James' mother, as well as Sirius being Harry's godfather.
It wasn't at all surprising that there were so many people related to the Blacks, given that at one point, they were what the Weasleys became by the 1980s – the largest magical family around. But to completely ignore (in content and proportion) the very fact that Dementors had been stationed around Hogwarts to protect Harry from Sirius, as Dumbledore had in confidence revealed, it meant that the boy who had done enough sleuthing to recognise that his godfather hadn't had a trial had to sit up and take notice.
He wasn't the only one. Remus was becoming increasingly vigilant himself.
"Did you...?"
"See how the entire Potter-Black angle which basically makes Sirius famous at the moment is brushed over?" Remus completed. "Yes. There's no mention of your grandmother."
Underlining a few more phrases that had been twisted into questions such as, "where does the man accused of betraying family stand?" which were about the only blink-and-you-miss references that could point to Sirius' status as a "blood-traitor", Harry replied with an absent shrug, "It's not surprising."
"The Daily Prophet has always been known for its rather spirited attempts at convenient interpretations of the state of matters," Dumbledore agreed. He had taken on board the complaint that he only ever bothered to teach when Sirius came around. Right now, he was observing as Harry had gathered the week's papers to trawl through for words with more meaning than there seemed to be.
"Who is this Skeeter woman anyway?" Harry asked with a hint of frustration. When Remus and Dumbledore looked at him oddly, he added, "I have observed her articles. Sensationalism, twisted implications and accusations posed as questions is her modus operandi. Yet nobody ever calls her out on anything. Why? Surely she must have trodden on many toes by now?"
"That's a good but incomplete summary of her most intriguing means of investigative reportage," Dumbledore stated. "She has trodden on toes, and I doubt there isn't at least one person in every magical household who doesn't hold a grudge against her. You asked and answered it yourself, Harry; just look at what you are doing, and why you are doing it. Journalism is, for many, just a cover. Rita is the crown jewel of an additional profession."
"She is targeting Sirius at someone's behest."
"The editors' obviously," Harry concluded. "They must have control for articles of this expanse, right?"
Dumbledore frowned. "No, Harry. I must say you are fairly off the mark here. Rita's brand of journalism has her focussing exclusively upon a particular subject at any time. She is focussed on Sirius, and he is old news, even for a slow news period."
"So someone is persuading the editors to look the other way and has Rita targeting Sirius?" Harry guessed. "She is a mercenary!"
"I did say that the Daily Prophet has a sparkling history of creative interpretations of situations. Yes. Rita is being deployed by her masters, and it is not Barnabas Cuffe."
"But what's the purpose?" wondered Remus.
"It could be a challenge. Or it could be a build-up," Dumbledore theorised. He then remained silent as he watched Harry puzzle over the matter and try and catch up with that train of thought.
"They have some nasty surprise waiting for Sirius in the Wizengamot on the tenth, don't they?"
And sometimes, even without his head in the game, Harry could be a quick student. But there wasn't time for commendations.
"You seem to be distracted today, my boy," Dumbledore prodded as he peered over his half-moon spectacles.
"It's nothing sir," Harry replied, a bit too quickly, as he peered at the paper again and frowned deeply.
"I hope that competing with Miss Granger for Madam Pince's admonishment for working overtime in the library when your Quidditch engagements don't tie you down is not tiring you?"
"One can never know enough, sir. I have learnt that from you. You seem to know everything."
"But can you use what you know?"
"A lot of it seems dangerous sometimes," Harry admitted still frowning distractedly at the paper as he flipped back a few pages. "I do not believe myself capable of applying all that I try to learn."
"So long as you are not learning Dark Magic, self-study is encouraged within these walls," Dumbledore went on serenely, practically handing Harry an open-approach offer on the behalf of the professors. "Demands on our time aside, we are all entirely willing to reward and encourage initiative," he went on.
This random change of topics was deliberate. He had himself encountered several people who often chose to disturb him during something important. And one can hardly brush people off – it is not only the height of rudeness, but one risks antagonising people in the long-term. He intended for Harry to develop the skill to hold an end of at least one conversation even when his mind was devoted to some other matter. It had helped him immensely in the ICW.
At the same time, he was encouraging Harry to approach the professors. There were already several times that the weekly meetings had someone mentioning the boy among the better performing students, particularly with his continued attempts to look at every spell or theory in a different manner, geared towards applying it differently than expected. With academia and his extracurricular interests, Harry seemed to be as good as an heir of his own to Dumbledore.
His musings were broken when Harry grimly announced, "They are going to do something related to the prisoners of Azkaban, past or present. She has increased the frequency with which she mentions Sirius as a prisoner in passing. It's never in direct context, but it's almost as if they are trying to reinforce the idea that Sirius was a prisoner. Even to describe the same person, there are only so many times you can point to his imprisonment without actually talking about it."
"Really?" demanded Remus, standing at the Headmaster's shoulder, as the latter drew the papers towards him. Marked on every one of the issues with a story on Sirius was a tally of such mentions. They really were incremental. "What could they target Sirius with now?"
"You are assuming it is Sirius they are targeting, Remus," the Headmaster corrected, pondering over the matter himself. It was difficult to theorise without any data, except for this sudden interest in Sirius. Somehow, Remus' worries about a custodial battle seemed prescient. Dumbledore hoped he was wrong; he had been wrong before. It just didn't feel like one of those instances. Age and experience had helped him develop that sense.
After the first week, the Prophet toned down on its narrative gradually. Indeed, even its tone varied.
Some of the earlier articles made him out to be a monster about whom the jury was still out and who had become free only on some technicality. Some made him out to be a lost man, unsure of where he stood as the world changed. Still others harped upon his attacking Voldemort (though again, his association with the Potters, something that at first glance seemed to define him and by which most people knew him, was barely touched upon) and listed the notorious Death Eaters he had put down in self-defence.
It never actually touched upon his work with the emergency response teams that volunteered during the war, his management and leadership when carrying out rescue operations, or the time when he had helped unearth the plan to lay an indirect siege to St. Mungo's by the Death Eaters as they bottlenecked the supply chains. He had even been heavily injured in a retaliatory attack.
Yet crucially, the articles started reading like a publicity gimmick by Sirius; as if they had been paid for by him.
And they weren't. Remus had sent his friend, disgruntled by the sudden attention when he just wanted to be left alone, a missive to keep his eyes peeled and his ears sharp. He had reported a request for a "comprehensive interview" and a tell-all book about his time in Azkaban. It was the furthest thing that Sirius would ever care to talk about. They had been summarily refused.
"That's going to smart," Harry had observed when Remus had told him about it on Wednesday, when the DADA class was the last of the day and he could hold Harry back to talk.
"And they are going to converge on him like flies on a rotting carcass."
Pulling a face, Harry protested, "I don't care much for that description."
"No. But it is apt, I assure you."
And so they had. The tone again changed, making it now seem like Sirius was behaving like a diva. The articles became more and more ludicrous, meaningless and so very obviously attention-grabbing that it was a groan and a "Not again!" that greeted each one now.
"What is Sirius Black doing with his free days as rich single man?"
"What is more important now that being the Head of one of our oldest Houses?"
"Sirius Black: The Man-Who-Won't-Talk."
"What is Black hiding?"
It seemed as if it was a media campaign to see how much they could needle Sirius before he reacted. And the expected reaction was supposed to be fiery, explosively so, and foolish. It was becoming increasingly obvious to those that had a side that this was targeting one individual, a soft target who could not exactly react in any manner without either gaining more unwanted attention or coming off as stupid.
Others though, were already muttering, no doubt through vicarious experiences collected through the friend of a friend of a friend's grandmother's aunt's great-granddaughter that Sirius was an attention-seeker and an incorrigible, good-for-nothing person. It marred a sizeable bit of the sympathy he had gained, turning him into a figure of scorn for some.
Worse still, they ended up turning him into the type of brainless bimbos who tried for fifteen seconds of fame by exposing themselves. Evidence of that was when a couple of Gryffindor girls were spied upon with their counterparts drooling over and giggling at Sirius' photographs.
About the only good thing to transpire in the matter, if it could be called that, was that Remus was not dragged into anything. For someone who had made it a personal mission to know everything about Sirius, if Skeeter found out that the animagus form was for Remus' benefit and so was the rat, and the stag, and then realised why Remus needed that, it would all go down the hill.
Sirius perused through the letters sent by his guests confirming their attendance at the get-together. All were standard replies, the sort of which are made decades in advance and people just copy the format, write, reply, and forget about. He was unsure whether he was supposed to read something into the fact that the letters from the "old allies", a term that was only true since the alliances weren't broken, were not accompanied by personal ones as those from Longbottom, Fawley, Shacklebolt, Wolfe and Bones were.
He chose not to. They knew that he knew that they would rather see him fall and fail.
Then there was Andromeda. She had responded to the letter with a visit.
There were many things that could have been said, and Sirius could have acted cold and high and mighty. But she wasn't the only one to fear that he had toed the family line after all, and having been part of said family, she had more reason to fear it. So instead, he just met her as he would have year before, all things forgiven. He had worse things to worry about. He was being surprisingly prescient.
"Rise," the bailiff bellowed, "for the Right Honourable Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore!"
There was a shifting of benches as the attendees to the Wizengamot session complied. As Dumbledore took his seat and surveyed everyone before bidding them all to sit down, Sirius unconsciously copied his actions. There were no fixed seats for the members; people could sit where they wished to or where they could find space if they arrived particularly late. Nott was sitting in first row. The others were arranged around him.
Sirius was trying to do better, and if nothing else he remembered that it wasn't only the words but also the actions or lack thereof, that mattered. That the group had come early – nearly thirty minutes early, and had arranged themselves thus, meant that they intended to be heard. This bore close observation.
Nott, Selwyn and Jugson were seated together, taut and ready to spring into action.
There was a quick review of the minutes of the previous meeting, followed by a few sundry reports by the Minister, touching upon the various departments, before Dumbledore ordered a one hour recess around twelve, like the lunchtime after a drab morning session in a Test Match with no wickets, several maiden overs and about twenty runs scored.
But the hour passed, and the wickets started to tumble.
First there was a proposal for constructing a small clinic near Azkaban on a small connected island owned by the Ministry. It was summarily opposed by many, not least by Sirius himself, though he stressed that he opposed it in the present form. His was one of the highlights of what turned out to be a three-and-a-half hour debate
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure you must be surprised that I stand here to oppose this move to build a clinic on Little Azkaban. There are several reasons to it, that I as a former hostage am uniquely positioned to recognise. In fact, my own dire healthcare needs were taken care of by the DMLE, and even though I remain embittered by my wrongful incarceration, my gratitude and commendation to the people doing the job currently does not seem enough."
One of the great things about open sessions – sessions not including criminal trials, or censure or anything of any sort that would contravene the several secrecy laws that were embedded into the body's code of operation – was that these sessions were broadcast live by the Wizarding Wireless Network (WWN). So after weeks of being called a former prisoner, this particular bit showcased enough of Sirius' ire, and gave a completely legal definition to his situation as well. Of course, he ran the risk of alienating the Ministry, but it was a risk to be taken.
"For the prisoners of Azkaban, and bear in mind that many of those that are guilty – I again am ill-equipped to generalise – are still criminals guilty of a very low order of crime. They do deserve basic human amenities and decency which is what the proposal undoubtedly aims for. Even those that are worse, we are required to ensure that we do not stoop to that level, at least in theory. Moreover, some criminals, even as their crimes disgust us, should not be brought into contact with other people. They are simply too dangerous.
"But the proposal as it stands does not suffice in providing the basic security from these people, still criminals, to the rest of the world at large. The clinic will be and can be manned by humans; Dementors, from my experience are unable to provide healthcare or facilitate the same, and can hardly be placed around the clinic. I also doubt that the proximity with the creatures would be conducive to a healing atmosphere.
"But that is the least of the problems. Indeed, I place myself again at your judgement. Yes, my motivations were different, but I did manage to escape. That was in the presence of Dementors. The clinic, as the proposal portrays it, shall become a massive hole in the defences currently being patched up.
"Imagine, if you could without shuddering in fear, a conspiracy just as gruesome as the one Peter Pettigrew unveiled before this very hall. Imagine the likes of Augustus Rookwood, with his vast knowledge, murderous intents and as much I wish to prevaricate, astounding brains," he painted, his voice dropping to a low timbre as he painted a scene of horror, deliberately leaving out any mention of a far worse evil – Bellatrix. It was bad form to call her names while still having an appeal for her vault. "Imagine another Peter Pettigrew, intent upon carrying out his heinous conspiracy. The clinic would be easily compromised. Do we want that?"
Sirius may not have been back to his best if he even knew what it was anymore, but he was still good at creating scenes and holding the attention of people.
"Imagine," he went on, "a group of compromised healers, able to attack at will. Healers, in whose skilled hands life-saving potions could become poisons. Humans – as has been rather forcibly brought to our attention by now – can be controlled by various means. Imagine people misusing the institution, subverting and circumventing the course of law by submitting to spurious health troubles, lasting for nearly as long as their period of punishment. No. We do not want that." He ended it with a fist pounding on the railing in front of him, with a low growl. "And that is perfectly possible. Do not forget what happened to the Crouches. Do not forget what they did."
There were contemplative looks on many faces.
"And I shall go forth to provide the other side. Imagine a hostage like me, quietly disposed of by medical means. I am innocent, as was proved to this august body. If there languishes another person who shares my fate, do we run the risk of having his blood on our hands? No, I say!"
Some polite applause punctuated that.
"But," and this time, he used a tone not to generate fear to supplement his words, but to show his humanity and the brighter side of the proposal, "again, we must remember the noble intent. Do we want the blood of any man or woman on our hands, if indeed our capital punishment takes away his or her soul and wipes out the very existence of the person?
"This proposal, my respected colleagues has both its merits and flaws. There exist very obvious solutions to combat the situations I have spoken of, namely Unbreakable Vows and the like. But we can hardly demand such a Vow which may even compete with the Healer's Vows, can we?
"I say we revisit this proposal, but only after we have a clear solution that is both legally, morally and ethically sound, and logistically feasible. The intent has the support of House Black, but, till a satisfying set of binding rules, laws and protections for any healers that may be required to work there exists, there is no justification for taking the responsibility away from the DMLE.
"Thank you."
A round of loud but polite applause filled the Chamber at that.
After three more speakers, one of whom gave an impassioned speech in opposition in much the same way the more stubborn ones spoke of werewolf rights, while the other two practically parroted Sirius' stance, the matter was voted upon. The proposal was recommended for amendments, particularly the ones endorsed by Sirius.
It left Sirius with a feeling of accomplishment. He had not made a complete fool of himself.
Unwittingly though, he had set himself up nicely for the proposal Nott had readied –at least a part of it. For Selwyn, the one qualified as a lawyer, had framed the proposal nested so deep within that at first glance nothing would seem out of place.
"Is there any new business for the House to consider?" Dumbledore asked.
Very politely, Nott raised his lit wand.
"Mr. Nott," the Chief Warlock acknowledged. "The Chamber would be pleased to hear your plea."
"Respected colleagues of the Wizengamot," the man started in a smooth cultured drawl, "the matter I bring forth today is one that should not be even required. However, times are changing, and with it, we must too, if we wish to protect something very important to us all."
He waited with a dramatic pause and a small grim smile as people looked at him with questions, suspicion and pure perplexity written on their faces.
"We, as a society, have always been a very small, demographically speaking. Magic, for all her inscrutable ways, does not choose to bless everyone, and occasionally, even those born to those already blessed. As such every child, every single child my friends, is to be treasured. Every child," his voice dropped to a passionate growl, "is to be protected."
There were calls of "Hear, hear!" from the audience and the Chief Warlock had to appeal for silence for Nott to continue speaking. Only those well-versed with Dumbledore's expression could see that he had already pretty much decided that the man was up to no good.
"In the past, there have been attempts of course, to have individual strictures put into place to ensure safety."
He nodded to Jugson who passed a sealed large packet to the court scribe. It contained a list of the minor laws and such that were in effect or had been in the past. It was flimsy.
"As you can see," he spoke after five minutes, when most people were done perusing the document, "these attempts were wholly unstructured, hardly encompassed even a fraction of the range of problems that they were meant to address and were, simply put, futile, never mind how noble the intentions were."
He received subdued murmurs of agreement.
"It is with the intent, therefore, to combine as many of those regulations as were deemed sensible," and here Sirius knew he had to be very attentive, for what could be deemed sensible by Nott would not really be so on the whole scale, "with some new ways which we believe shall be useful in protecting our children, no matter their situation, to the fullest of our capabilities.
"One salient point that I believe I must draw attention to, is that of children placed in situations that intersect with the muggle world. The unfortunate circumstances that led to the separation of our societies are not yet eradicated. The worst brunt of this is borne by children. The," he paused here to take a deep gulp of water, and the next word told Sirius that it was a calculated move to ensure that it was Nott's way to prevent himself from using the wrong word, "muggleborn children still are considered those of "the Devil". There were no previous attempts to monitor their home lives. This has been considered now."
And Sirius did not like it one bit. They might get Harry away from the Dursleys, but what about the other children, like his friend Hermione (the only one among the children that Sirius knew of), or someone else? This move, if anyone else had suggested it would probably be taken at face value, but here, it was a Death Eater who was proposing the monitoring of muggle houses.
"Another important consideration is that of the mental wellbeing of both the children and their guardians. Neglectful or abusive upbringings do affect children, but even the hampered mental health of a well-meaning guardian can affect how they interact with children. So guardians and those awarded custody of displaced or orphaned children need to be vetted as well.
"These I believe are the more important points that the proposal I wish to bring forward coalesces. I can hardly claim perfection, but I beg this chamber to give it due consideration. All suggestions, criticisms and methods to improve this so as to enable us to protect children, and enforce a wholesome Child Protection Act will be welcomed with immense gratitude. Thank you."
At this juncture, both Selwyn and Jugson raised their lit wands. Alphabetically, the latter spoke first. "I beg the Chamber to note that the House of Jugson supports this proposal in its entirety."
Selwyn then followed suit, employing similar words.
A round of applause, considerably louder and longer than that reserved for the other speakers of the day, followed, before Dumbledore added his remarks.
"Indeed, while the unfortunate circumstances alluded to by Mr. Nott do exist in the muggle world, they have taken several steps to better themselves on that aspect. That this has been proposed for our world is both worrying and gratifying in equal measure. I thank Mr. Nott for the same, and commend his initiative."
The gong went off five times, signalling the end of the day's session.
"Unfortunately, we cannot conduct further business today, but I would strongly insist that this matter is brought up for discussion in our next meeting. In my capacity as the Chief Warlock, I shall of course be studying this extremely important issue carefully, and if M/s Nott, Jugson and Selwyn could find some time in their busy schedules for consultation, and so also the rest of the members of this congregation, I believe our time shall be fruitfully devoted if, instead of adjourning the matter for the next monthly meeting, it can be brought up with more regularity. I request you all to reach through to the Office of the Chief Warlock for the same. This is deserves thorough consideration."
"We thank you, Chief Warlock," Nott solemnly replied. "We shall be available at your disposal."
"He accepted it," Selwyn stated simply, as the allies sat to discuss the day's session. "It went off just as I predicted."
"Has anyone made the connection, though?" Malfoy asked.
"I have no reason to believe so," Jugson assured. "They were, I am sure, stunned by Nott's words, particularly when he spoke of protecting the mudblood brats."
"Don't underestimate Dumbledore," Mulciber cautioned. "That man has the ability to see through this."
"Indeed," agreed the rest.
"Black?" asked Lucius again.
"He made a great show of being attentive, suspicious and tenacious, especially where the Clinic proposal was concerned. The pretender that he is..." Gibbon trailed off with a self-satisfied smirk. "Go on Lucius. Blindside him."
About the Prophet's treatment of Sirius – the Beckhams, Kardashians, every scandal that tabloids come up with, any click-bait in all newspapers that write only bad things about your favourite Sports team...the list is endless.
I have a planned ending for this story, and the outline and everything are pretty much complete in substance, though they mutate every now and then. Once I am done with this or 'Leader', I am going to go after a very heavily abused trope (bashing and all that): Harry is Slytherin reincarnated. I have read three of those in the past three days, hoping for some inspiration in terms of situations, and they all involved bashing and proving Salazar-Harry's superiority over Dumble-dick/Dumble-bum/Fumble-dick (and other...delightful variations of Dumbledore's names). Maybe I am looking at the wrong stories.