April 1994
At the teachers' table there were enough copies of the Daily Prophet to go around. But at the House tables papers were scarcer, and clusters of students gathered around those with a copy of the newspaper. Hermione read extracts out to the third year Gryffindors who crowded around her.
"An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."
"Does it say exactly who escaped?" Neville asked, looking worried.
"Yes, there's a list of eleven people from the high security ward, with pictures underneath," said Hermione. "Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Lyndon Travers, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Vulcan Mulciber, and…" she trailed off and looked up, as she noticed Neville push his chair back roughly. "Are you alright?"
"No, not really. I'll… be in the dorm."
"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.
"No, y-you… you find out what's going on. Stay here. Fill me in later on what I need to know. I just want to be on my own right now."
"What's wrong with Neville?" asked Ron. He wasn't the only one clustered around Hermione who looked puzzled.
Once Neville had moved away, Harry explained the situation very briefly to those looking curious and confused. "His parents' torturers just escaped from Azkaban. His parents were permanently incapacitated – they're in St. Mungo's."
Hermione gasped distractedly, eyes back on the paper's list of escapees. "Professor Lupin escaped too!"
There was a chorus of disbelieving murmurs.
"No!"
"Surely he wouldn't – his trial's not that far away!" objected Harry.
"Was our teacher a Death Eater as well as a werewolf?" asked Finnegan, aghast.
Ron read out the description of Lupin, reading over Hermione's shoulder.
"Remus Lupin: Known werewolf and long-time associate of ringleader Sirius Black, awaiting trial for serious violent crimes against children and public safety."
"They make it sound really bad!" Ron said, sounding aggrieved. "It wasn't that bad. He was definitely going to be found innocent of that. Or at least most of it."
"Looks like he's definitely not coming back to teach now," muttered Midgen.
"Oooo!" said Brown, her eyes widening in realisation. "Remember what day it is?"
"April Fools' Day," said Ron. "I think Fred and George put something in the porridge – no-one should touch it."
"No!" she said impatiently. "It's Good Friday! Parvati, do you remember what Professor Trelawney said at the start of the year? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever!' "
"Yes! Merlin's staff, she knew about this all along! She knew a teacher would leave for good at Easter!" exclaimed Patil. "See Hermione, she wasn't wrong just because you left early. It wasn't about you at all."
"She knew it was a good generic guess that would fit a lot of potential events occurring within around say, a fortnight's span of time," said Hermione disparagingly. "And when she said it the implication was clear that she was referring to a member of our class."
"It clearly didn't mean that at all. Just because you don't have the Sight is no reason to scoff at those who do," sniffed Brown.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed at that. "I'm not even convinced there's any such thing."
"Does it say why they think Black was behind it? Is there any actual evidence or is it just speculation?" Harry interrupted, trying to peek at the next page.
"Wild claims by Albus Dumbledore that the raid on Azkaban was not masterminded by Black, but instead was led by the long-dead martyr Peter Pettigrew, can be taken as conclusive evidence of this once-proud hero's sad decline into senility."
"Well, at least the Headmaster is sticking up for him," he said. "It doesn't sound like they're listening, though."
"Look! A picture of the Dark Mark floating above Azkaban!" gasped Patil. "I can hardly believe it. Well no wonder they think Sirius Black led the attack. Death Eaters had to be involved."
"It might be their sign, but it doesn't logically follow that the person who broke them out had to be a Death Eater, however. Any of the escapees could've done it," argued Hermione. "And I stand by the Headmaster's theory that it was Peter Pettigrew."
"And is there any evidence for that?" Patil asked snidely.
"Give me a chance to read!" Hermione snapped. "It is my paper, you know!"
"Sirius is innocent," insisted Harry stubbornly.
"No-one would want to live a decade as a rat," Patil insisted, with a mocking roll of her dark brown eyes. "It just doesn't make sense."
"They've cancelled Black's trial," said Hermione, reading ahead and ignoring Patil. "They say they're going to add extra charges, so they need time to gather evidence and witnesses. And there's a lot of accusations thrown around about how if he was innocent he would've turned himself in by now. Apparently one of the wizards who works as a guard at Azkaban survived the attack by playing dead – there were two others who died – he said there were three men all wearing black robes, and two of them had Death Eater masks on and the third had his face permanently shadowed by some kind of spell. They could be anyone!"
"Death Eaters," murmured Ron fearfully, not alone in his worry.
Harry leant back in his chair, shocked. He had a guess who two of the people might be. Pettigrew and Professor Quirrell. The third he didn't have any guesses for, but really doubted it was Black. But… was Pettigrew really acting so decisively after spending a decade living peacefully (if strangely) as a rat? Harry had a dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered how Scabbers had last been detected heading towards the Forbidden Forest. So, he had two top priorities. He had to save Black's life, and he had to check on that diary as soon as possible.
"What's happening with the Dementors? Did they fight the intruders at Azkaban? Are they removing them from Hogwarts?" Harry asked, interrupting Hermione's reading again. She quickly skimmed in search of an answer, making a couple of students who were slower readers moan with frustration as she flipped pages heedlessly.
"They don't say how, but apparently the Death Eaters got past the Dementors without any trouble. There weren't many there anyway – mostly they're here at the school after all. It's one of the few criticisms of the Ministry the paper is willing to venture."
"Fat lot of good they're doing here," muttered Thomas angrily. "Those things creep me out. Maybe not as much as they do Potter, but I still don't like them. Remember how they charged us at Quidditch? We'd be better off without them here at all. Black's gotten past them two or three times now at least! So what's the point?"
"Does it say anything about the Hogwarts' Dementors?" Harry asked persistently.
"Hold on, I'm checking," she said distractedly. "No… nothing. The teachers might know. Harry, it's not looking good for Sirius – the coverage is pretty solidly against him. There's renewed calls for his death and to bring back the 'Kiss on Sight' order, and Dumbledore is… well they're making fun of him a lot, Harry. This Rita Skeeter who's writing the lead article really has it in for him. It's not the first time I've seen her be nasty about him."
"I wonder if Malfoy's dad was dressed up with a mask on," Ron mused, staring across at the Slytherin table where there were similar (though smaller and quieter) clumps of students buzzing about the morning's news. Draco was one of the students with a copy of the Prophet, and a cluster of friends were leaning in to whisper with him in serious low voices.
"Do you have any evidence for that?" Harry asked in a carefully neutral voice.
"Here we go again," muttered Finnegan. "Bunch of 'Claws you all are today."
Ron bristled. "He was a Death Eater, you know. Just because you're friends with Malfoy-"
"-I just asked if you have any evidence," snapped Harry. "And since Mr. Malfoy isn't the only former Death Eater not in custody, previously Imperiused or otherwise, there might actually be a lot of suspects. No doubt the Aurors will be investigating."
"Whatever. Let's not fight about it, okay?"
"Sure," Harry agreed stiffly.
"And you shouldn't give Draco a hard time about it," piped up Hermione, causing Ron to gape at her in shock. She stiffened defensively at his stare. "Malfoy, that is. I'm just saying, even if his father is guilty, it's not like he personally could possibly have had anything to do with it. Children aren't responsible for their parents' crimes."
"I guess," Ron said grudgingly. "But if he starts crowing about how his poor innocent aunt is free now, I'll be waiting to say, 'I told you so!' "
"That's fair," conceded Hermione. "If he says anything along those lines I'd be inclined to punch him myself. Poor Neville." That made Ron look a bit happier.
Professor McGonagall gave a short speech to the students about the news, and reassured them that despite the fact that Dementors would be withdrawn from the school grounds shortly, there was nothing to fear. The more nervous students were comforted by her statement that she was negotiating for some Aurors to be permanently stationed at the school until such time as the escapees were apprehended, and that the Headmaster should be returning to the school soon.
Harry frowned as he read Hermione's passed-on newspaper in detail. They were insinuating that Lupin had deliberately helped set things up and manipulated events to let himself be arrested – that it was a sinister inside job arranged with Black to help the rest of the Death Eaters escape. After Harry had finished his breakfast and finished his thorough read through of the paper, he found when he rose that he had two new shadows. Percy Weasley and Angelina Johnson were hovering right by his chair.
"Where to, Harry?" asked Percy.
Harry sighed. "Potter Watch, huh? I guess I can say goodbye to my privacy again."
"You got it!" said Johnson with a grin. "Stalking is caring, Harry. But we'll do our best not to bug you."
Harry trooped up to the dorm with his escort, and was glad that they didn't insist on coming into the actual dorm (not after Percy had glanced inside, anyway). Thank goodness there were no classes since the Easter holidays had just started – he had a lot to do. He had plans to make, favours to call in, and letters to write. But Neville came first.
Bundled up in a sad huddle of scarlet blankets on his bed Neville said despondently, "You don't need to worry about me, Harry. I'm sure you've got other things to do."
"Nothing more important than talking to my best friend, Nev."
Neville might've cried a bit then, but neither he nor Harry would ever admit to it later. They talked for a couple of hours about the breakout and who might be involved, Neville's yearning for revenge and lack of confidence in his ability and courage to bring it about, and the unfairness of life that left them both without parents to care for them.
-000-
Talking discreetly to his Slytherin friends later that day with eavesdropping Gryffindor guards in tow was an exercise in frustration. It was all, "What do you think?" and "I really couldn't say." Crabbe and Greg wouldn't talk to him at all, and Draco seemed rather wary, but relaxed when no-one (self-appointed guards included) seemed inclined to rant at him.
"Obviously I don't believe father knows anything about what happened, but I will undertake to write to him and let you know what he says, Harry," Draco promised. "And I shall mention that you are still keen on getting Black a trial."
"Thanks, Draco. And uh, you might want to stay away from Ron at the moment."
"I always try to be as little associated with Weasley as possible," Draco said, then hesitated as he glanced at Harry's frowning red-haired guard, remembering that the Head Boy was Ron's older brother. "No offence meant to you, of course, Weasley."
"Of course," Percy said brusquely.
"For I'm sure you are not responsible for his ill-bred behaviour, after all. You're an exemplar of proper conduct," Draco said in what he obviously thought was a sycophantically diplomatic manner (though it made Harry wince). Thankfully Percy didn't seem to take offence at any of it.
"If I was responsible for all my siblings' behaviour, Fred and George would have me in weekly detentions," Percy said with a rueful sigh, making Johnson laugh.
"They're alright," she said with a smile. "They just like to have a bit of fun, that's all."
Percy huffed dismissively.
Pansy and Tracey didn't have much advice to offer, and only vaguely stated opinions and comforting words. Millicent's shy suggestion that he carry around Storm more often for protection seemed an interesting one that Pansy decidedly approved of.
"I'll ask him and see what he thinks," Harry said hesitantly. "He's mostly nocturnal, and usually likes to sleep the day away in his tank."
It was Daphne who offered the best suggestion, calling him away out of earshot of the guards (but still under their watchful eye, and those of their friends) for a quiet whisper.
"I know you are hoping Bumblebore will fix everything with Black, but you cannot rely on that. You need to work on your alliances, and use your connections to push your agenda if you want him freed."
He nodded. "Yes, that's what I thought too. I have a few ideas about what to do there."
"Have you thought of the Slug Club?" she suggested. "I haven't been sent an invitation to his Easter party, but I hear you have been. Draco's been invited too, you know."
"Oh! I hadn't thought of that - that's a good idea, and it's coming up soon. It should be a good opportunity to mingle."
"I've heard," she said confidingly, "that Professor Slughorn is very partial to crystallised pineapple, fine brandy and mead, and tickets to Quidditch matches. And he has built up a fine network of client families and alliances, including well-placed wizards and witches within the Ministry. And even though he knows we are still young, he is smart enough to realise we will be adults soon enough, and our favours owed and appreciation of his help all the more valuable. Also, he will invite adults to his soirees too sometimes – useful connections for his prize Slug Club students."
"Thanks Daphne," he said, with a polite nod of gratitude.
"Happy to help," she said, with a rather charming smile.
After checking in with all his close friends (with the exception of Anthony who had gone home to his family for Passover a week ago), he headed back to the dorm.
Harry had a dreadful idea about whom to contact for help on ensuring Sirius' freedom. It was so wrong. It went against everything he believed in, and how he preferred to live his life. But it just might work. He had a letter to write. A couple of letters, actually – for he also wanted to dash off a quick note to Sirius Black to prompt him to write and explain what was going on.
-000-
Harry had a large number of owls arrive for him that evening after sunset. When he went to the dorm after dinner he found them sitting on the stone windowsill of the dorm in a crowded jostling row, while others perched on the top rail of his four-poster bed. He noticed Ron glancing almost jealously at the line of waiting owls, but he didn't understand why. He'd be happy to swap places and spend his evening playing catch-the-string with a gangly but still cute kitten, rather than answering mail.
"Is one of you from Padfoot?" he asked optimistically, and one hooted and flapped over happily to perch on his arm (with its painfully sharp talons poking at his skin) to be divested of its missive. Harry unfolded it with eager nervousness. He was sure that Sirius wouldn't break into Azkaban. Well, almost completely sure. A little reassurance wouldn't go astray.
Dear Harry,
I'm sure you have heard the news by now about the Azkaban breakout. In case you are wondering, of course it wasn't me.
It sounded like Sirius hadn't gotten his letter yet (school owls weren't the fastest), but luckily was going to explain things for him anyway.
My plan was to have my day in court at last and be a free man – a plan that alas is ruined for now but hopefully not for good. Amelia Bones is proving a steadfast supporter (since she's one of the people who has seen my Pensieved memories), and is joining with Dumbledore in pushing for a new trial date to be set. I've been advised by a few people to sit tight and not hand myself in until this all settles down a bit, as there's more than one person pushing for a death sentence or the Kiss, or an "accidental" death as I "try to escape capture". The Minister has the brains of a troll, and wants me Kissed by Dementors as quickly as possible so he can show the public he's "doing something", and unfortunately he seems to have a fair number of supporters. For the love of Merlin, please do not tell him or anyone else anything about where I am, or that I'm writing to you. Anyone who needs to know and can be trusted already knows where I am.
I would venture you might be wondering about a certain escapee of my acquaintance, and wondering if that might have motivated me to rescue him. I must confess that the thought crossed my mind. However, I trusted that with his trial date so soon, it would be better to wait and see him free that way! He has asked me not to gossip, so I shan't say where he is, but shall merely assure you that he is alive and though not completely well, he should recover in due course.
Of course Pettigrew must have been involved in the breakout. Amelia is sure of it, from the witness' memories. One of the men in Death Eater masks was missing a finger, you see!
That sounded like pretty good evidence! Not perfect, but a good clue.
Dumbledore is muttering dire suspicions about You-Know-Who's involvement, but doesn't want to admit to why he thinks that given the man died years ago, which is driving Amelia to distraction. I think that Pettigrew surely must have gotten in contact with a couple of other Death Eaters who eluded arrest – he would never have the guts to come up with a plan like this on his own so someone must be telling him what to do. I know now you are friends with the Malfoys (though I simply cannot understand why) but please do be careful around them – don't go off alone with any of that family. The Imperius claim was a bald-faced lie that only worked because their family's vaults are deep.
Hmph.
You have my deepest gratitude for being so understanding and lending me the cloak a bit longer. I will take good care of it, I promise! Please tell Minnie – Professor McGonagall to you – that I wasn't at all involved in the breakout in any way whatsoever, and that I will send her necklace back as soon as it is safe. Let her know that I am actually not using it at all – I'm merely wearing it in case of emergencies. Actually no, never mind Harry, I shall write to her myself.
I'm glad to hear you are thinking about my offer of a home, even if it is just to visit for a little while over the holidays. Yes, I am doing much better now, and thank you for enquiring! As to your other question, no, I do not believe there is a pond for Storm where I am staying now. But to be honest with you, I am not completely sure, as the back door has been barricaded for years as the garden has gotten very out of control and aggressive, and no-one wants to deal with it. Well, I certainly do not at any rate, and the old house-elf here is neither sufficiently fit nor willing to set his hands to the task. But there is a cellar with lots of rats to catch! And some mysterious creatures infesting the curtains – he's welcome to hunt them too. So that might be an amusement for him? And he can have an old copper tub to swim in if he wants. I shall rely on seeing you in the summer! Thinking of which, I hope you liked the coat I got you for Christmas!
Huh. He'd have to ask about the boots, like Lucius recommended. It seemed plausible. But how could he access his vault while on the run?
The fit can be adjusted if it is not quite tailored right. I didn't want to sign a card for the gift in case you threw it away before you had the chance to get to know me. What would you like for your birthday? More clothes? A new broom? Something for your snake?
With best wishes from your godfather,
Sirius Black
(Padfoot)
Harry wrote a quick response, thanking him sincerely for his letter and all the information, and encouraging him to continue pushing for a trial, and promising that he'd help. He also threw in a testing remark about the non-existent boots he'd gotten with the coat, and ignored his remarks about the Malfoys.
"Which owls think they have a really urgent letter?" Harry asked tiredly, looking at the large group of letter-bearing owls awaiting attention. He didn't want to do any of this, really.
Most just sat there, but a couple hooted insistently, and one stubborn horned owl flew over to land on Harry's shoulder, and pecked at another owl with striped feathers to get it away from Harry, clacking its beak sharply and fanning its wings out threateningly like a halo of feathers around its head and body.
"Okay, okay! You can go first!" Harry said. Pushy thing.
To the Heir of Slytherin,
Oh great, thought Harry resignedly. Another Slytherin fan. I haven't had one of those in a while. It was even more awkward to correspond with such people now he knew it may give him away as actually being the Heir if he responded to them. Sometimes he just ignored them altogether now.
I hope you will pardon my impertinence in trying to contact you yet again, and I hope this latest letter reaches you. I have tried to send more than one letter that my owl refused to carry, not that any blame rests with yourself of course – I must somehow be at fault in my method of attempting to contact you. Yet now I have hope for a different response on this occasion as lately I have heard whispers that a lucky few have contacted you of late and been granted the privilege of hearing from you.
He'd have to explain about the owl wards again, if he wrote back. He was quite practiced at that now – a number of fans had a history of sending letters, or even presents, which never garnered a reply.
My reason for contacting you is first to tender my offer of support to you in your current endeavours. Our family has grown to be well positioned socially, despite the recent loss of my elder brother, and I hold the regency of our House in trust for him, as well as a position as a member of the Wizengamot. I am currently engaged at last to a fine young pure-blood wizard of good standing and moderate wealth, whom I am sure you would approve of.
Harry wasn't sure why she thought he'd care who she married – it was a bit confusing. Perhaps it was that whole "monster of Slytherin who kills the impure" thing. Some people unfortunately tended to assume he must be a blood purist.
My second reason is a more personal one – to beg you for information. My brother Decius was never a Death Eater (he was in fact still in Hogwarts during the last war). I regret to say he was imprisoned in Azkaban five years ago on charges of possession of 'Dark' artefacts and practising 'Dark' magic. For the sake of my family's reputation we have renounced him publicly, and contact him only by the most roundabout of means. Yet of course we in truth still love him dearly, and always will. We certainly do not feel he deserves eight years in Azkaban for his so-called crimes.
I have heard nothing in the newspaper or from contacts in the Ministry in regards to his escape, nor about his continued imprisonment. Some say, however, that more prisoners broke out than were reported. They say the Ministry is attempting to cover up their incompetence in sending away all their Dementor guards to Hogwarts by making the breakout seem less impressive than it truly was. Thus I have hope. Did Sirius Black liberate my brother Decius from Azkaban along with the Death Eaters? I beg of you most humbly, can you tell me where he is? Naturally I will understand if you cannot trust me with the details, but please I beg for some tiny scrap of information as to whether he is alive or dead, free or imprisoned. For the Ministry is being more close-mouthed and unhelpful than a goblin is to a pauper; they will tell me nothing at all and empty platitudes will not suffice to soothe my troubled mind. I cannot stop crying for thinking about my beloved brother. I simply need to know the truth.
It was a shame she thought Sirius was behind the breakout. It did explain why she was writing to him though – he'd been a staunch defender of Sirius, if not as publicly and actively as Dumbledore had been lately. Maybe she'd written to him too. He felt bad for her about her brother that she missed, and wondered what he'd done that merited an eight year sentence. It seemed like a long time – it was worrying.
Let me assure you once again that I and all my family have always been ardent supporters of you, and we stand ready to support you should you ever be in need of our assistance in any way. I would be honoured to have the opportunity to serve you.
Well that last part is nice, if oddly more sycophantic than usual, thought Harry. And it's potentially useful.
I remain, Sir, your faithful and obedient servant,
Apulia Blishwick
Regent of the House of Blishwick
Harry spent some time writing a polite response (since her level of distress warranted the courtesy), checking in with Neville once or twice to assure himself he had the right formal wording correct, and wasn't going to accidentally offend.
He thanked her for her letter, and advised her that the "Heir of Slytherin" title was more a "silly nickname that had stuck" than anything serious, and he would thus prefer not to have letters addressed as such in the future (that tack convinced some people he wasn't the Heir). He carefully expressed regret for her brother's situation, including his personal dislike for the harsh conditions imposed on prisoners at Azkaban and the severity of the sentence, and let her know that regrettably he had no special insight into the details of whether any additional prisoners had escaped in the recent breakout. However, if he did happen to hear anything he would let her know immediately. (And he made a mental note to discreetly ask Sirius if he knew.) He advised her to get in contact with Madam Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, whom he had been assured by others was a trustworthy and well-informed witch in regards to the details of the breakout – even those the paper was not reporting on. And last, but by no means least, he said he advocated for fair and just trials for everyone accused of crimes, including her brother, and others such as his cousin and House Regent, Sirius Black. He had enlisted Neville's help in trying to word that delicately, but worried that it hadn't come out quite as subtly as he wanted.
Well, he thought, it will have to do. I have many other letters to attend to. Not to mention I have homework and TMAs that I'd rather be busy worrying about. Getting all his tutor-marked assignments done was getting tougher with less time on his hands, but so far he was managing.
The exotic and rather beautiful striped owl with tawny and dark brown vertical stripes of feathers, and tufts of feathers standing up like pointed ears pushed its way to the front once Blishwick's letter had been dealt with and her owl sent off with Harry's response.
It turned out to be bearing the other response Harry had been especially awaiting… and dreading slightly even though it had been his own idea to write to the man. Lockhart had written back swiftly to Harry's letter in which he'd begged for help in dealing better with the media.
Dear Harry,
How simply delightful to hear from you again! I would simply love to resume my erstwhile role as your mentor, and be your patron to shepherd you through the wild, stormy oceans of talking with the media!
Harry sighed. He'd gotten the response he wanted. He just didn't like it very much.
It is a very wise choice to take up the mantle of your fame and make your first forays into actively cultivating connections with the Daily Prophet. May I say that from their permanent staff I believe Andy Smudgley would be most inclined to present you in the most favourable light, and a little donation in thanks for his efforts wouldn't go astray! About twenty Galleons should do the trick. Rita Skeeter is a most impressive writer, and quite the rising star at the Prophet at the moment. If you think you can get her on side flattery may be your best bet there, as well as a little thank you gift of some trinket appropriate to a lady. However, word has it that she bears you a grudge for "snubbing" her in the past. You can't snub reporters, Harry! They are the planks over the swamp of society that keep celebrities such as ourselves out of the common muck! Look at how Dumbledore is faring at the moment – you are quite right to be concerned about that. Word has it that his positions with the ICW and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot are in danger! All because of this mad quest to see Sirius Black freed.
Not that I'm saying you're mad, Harry!
It sure sounded like it.
But Harry, are you sure I can't talk you out of joining Dumbledore in his spiralling descent into unpopularity? I suspect the answer is no! Now, don't glare at the letter. That will give you wrinkles!
Harry scowled at the letter rebelliously. He could almost hear the man's annoying and carefully charming laugh.
Well, if it must be done, it must be done right. We can't have you tilting at a target and missing! But if you can pull it off you can emerge as a Champion of Justice.
You asked where your Headmaster was going wrong, and if I thought there was anything you could do to help further your godfather's cause. What an excellent question.
I would say that in the main he was doing quite well, until this dreadful business with a breakout at Azkaban! However, I would say that with my peerless and much broader experience in working with public opinion, that there is one thing he neglected to pay as much attention to as he should have. And that is the court of public opinion!
While it is all very well to secure a court date and convince a few people in the Ministry that a trial is well deserved and overdue, he failed to seize the hearts and minds of the general public on the matter – they still cower in fear of Black. And without the public on his side, he loses the ear of the Minister!
Harry thought about it. It sounded reasonable.
The public isn't won over with dry facts and appeals to justice, Harry. They crave drama and excitement! You must tug on the heartstrings of their souls, not reason with them. If you don't give a reporter some meaty story to write full of violet prose, they will find their own angle. Be sure to make their job easier for them by giving them the angle you want them to write!
Your few paltry statements so far have been a brief appeal to fairness and a desire for the truth – that you want to see Black stand trial. It's a good start, but rather dry.
Consider crying!
Oh no.
An appeal to evoke sympathy and pity could work well for you, given your age. Either that you want to see your poor innocent godfather freed, and that you weep at the tales of the tremendous deprivations suffered by an innocent man in prison, the beloved friend of your lost parents, framed by yet another they trusted! Or that you are but a poor confused lamb who doesn't know what's right, but know that your poor departed parents would want to see the truth come out. You need to stop being so shy and retiring and you should mention your parents more, Harry! The public should be reminded of the source of your fame, and your dear parents' sacrifice for you, and for the freedom of the wizarding world.
Harry thought he might be sick, and took a bit of a break halfway through the letter. He kept the striped owl waiting for a response, while dealing swiftly with a few other items of mail. Mostly they were people checking if he was alright, which were easy enquiries to answer. There was also a short note from Dumbledore telling him to sit tight and not give up hope as he was still pushing onwards to help Black. Well, he wouldn't give up hope, but he wanted to do more than passively sit back and expect the world to be a fair place where everything ended up fine in the end. Because in his experience it usually didn't. He wrote Dumbledore a polite letter of thanks and then with renewed determination he turned back to finish reading Lockhart's letter.
If not pity, then anger or fear would be the response to cultivate in your audience. But anger needs a direction! And making people afraid is not something you want to be associated with! Fear is best evoked only when you can assure your listeners that all ended well, or that you can protect them. And Pettigrew, presuming he is indeed the fiend behind this latest outrage, is nowhere to be found, nor are his companions. Such elusive targets cannot assist you as things to aim the public's anger or fears at, and the Aurors are not under your personal direction so unlike the Minister you cannot assure the public that you (and only you) are doing everything you can to protect the populace. Remember to never insult the Minister! You must always be delighted with whomever is in power.
Best to stick with an appeal to pity for this story, to keep your readers engaged in your plight. Let them doubt Black (I myself am not sure of the truth!) but be assured that you – and they – deserve to know the truth, for your poor parents' sake. The public and the Ministry can cast aspersions on an old wizard with a complicated story full of corruption and secrecy which he himself is mired in, but none would dare sneer at a young boy who just wants to honour his parents' memory and find the truth behind the betrayal. Keep it simple, Harry! Keep it dramatic! I might add in passing that I would not even bother talking about that business with the rat – that's a hard sell. Just stick to the bit about how Pettigrew's body was never found. Don't forget to speak in a dramatic whisper for that part. Similarly, don't get distracted speaking about Professor Lupin or trying to convince them about your crazy theory about You-Know-Who – you want the reporters to focus on your main story and you need to sound convincing and focused!
And what a good idea it is you had to think of featuring on the Wizarding Wireless as well! And might I add that all this sounds like an excellent opportunity to promote my – or dare I say our – upcoming book, Battles with the Basilisk? We're now looking at a summer release in late June for the glorious sales and promotional opportunities the season holds (don't forget you'll be helping with that!), but the copies are now stockpiled and waiting! Would you like an advance copy to read over?
Miss Tolipan and her mother sound like a most useful connection to cultivate! Miss Lovegood I am less sure of. Better to establish your reputation in the more reputable papers. But the Quibbler might be interested in the rat theory! That sounds like their kind of story. You could talk to them about it as an anonymous source – should you be proven right later you've built yourself up as a useful font of information (good for the future!), and should it be untrue then there's no harm done!
I am, with affection and esteem, your friend and patron,
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, O.M. (Third Class)
Harry sighed, and bowed to his wisdom. He'd play the poor tragic orphan for the press, if that's what it would take to get justice for his godfather. He'd played worse roles than that, in the hope of a better life. Sirius certainly deserved his best effort.
He wrote a polite reply back to Lockhart full of thanks, and wrapped up the last of his mail, including a letter to the Daily Prophet inviting them to meet him for an interview. He then cast a couple of necessary cleaning charms on the bedposts and windowsill where some impatiently waiting owls hadn't been polite enough to nip out the window to do their business. Yuck.
"I hope you're finished with those feathered pestss at last," hissed Storm with irritation from his tank. "I have been waiting patiently for attention for hourss and been ignored."
Why couldn't he be diurnal instead of nocturnal, Harry thought with a tired sigh.
-000-
Under the guise of taking Storm to visit friends at the Slytherin table on Saturday morning, Harry seized an opportunity for a couple of quick conversations with people. It wasn't that socialising with people from other Houses was exactly banned at meal times, it was just unusual, and Harry hated standing out. But needs must – he had a lot to organise and very little time to do it in.
First Storm got deposited with Millicent for some attention and bonding, and a couple of compliments on his fierceness and handsome scales were translated to his serpentine friend's open delight.
"Tell him that it's been too long since he visited me, and that I think he's very fierce, and growing so large and beautiful! Just look at his pretty scales," Millicent cooed, stroking his smooth scaly skin cautiously (and not too near his head). Harry translated her praise obediently.
"Tell her I am much bigger and fiercer than I was, and my lightning cloud that attacked the Dog-man was indeed magnificent though sssadly not fatal, and that I will shed my ssskin again sssoon," Storm said proudly.
Harry translated it almost accurately, leaving out the homicidal wish. (And reminding Storm that Dog-man was a friend now, which Storm grudgingly conceded was true… but it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he wished his lightning had been stronger. Harry worried about his attitude sometimes.)
"Pansy, are you going to Slughorn's Easter party tomorrow?" Harry asked.
"No, alas I am not invited. Did you hear? He is actually hosting two parties. One for the older NEWT students, and one for first to fifth years. Though I haven't heard the first and second years are getting many invitations at all."
"So you'd like to go if you could?"
"Oh yes! It sounds delightful. Daphne said you and Draco are invited? I heard Nott and Zabini are invited as well, from Slytherin. Too many boys, don't you think?"
Harry nodded thoughtfully, and muttered a distracted and hasty farewell as he collected Storm (earning an exasperated nasal snort from her that he didn't notice), then he wandered down the table to talk to the next person on his mental checklist.
"Derri… uh, Peregrine, I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?" he asked quietly, stumbling over the name as he remembered they were officially on a first name basis since Yule and that he shouldn't call him Derrick any longer.
"Certainly, Harry," he responded politely, with an interested look.
A friend at his side muttered disdainfully, "I really cannot understand why you bother; he may be a Parselmouth but he is still merely a third year, and a… Gryffindor." He looked down his nose at Harry and Storm, which earned him a glare from Peregrine.
"Pay no mind to him," he said apologetically. "What can I do for you?"
The other boy huffed in annoyance and returned his attention to his plate of eggs on toast.
"Uh, well I was wondering," Harry said nervously, "if you and perhaps you and another Slytherin could be my escorts around Hogsmeade on Sunday? I'd rather… well, a little more discretion than is usually afforded by people from Potter Watch following me everywhere." Harry tried to send a message by widening his eyes in a meaningful look, but he didn't think it really was working so well. "I can tell Percy myself of course – he's been organising things – but I don't want to do that if you won't agree to do it, obviously. That would just look silly, and be rather rude."
"Do you have a date?" Peregrine asked curiously, glancing down the table at Harry's third year Slytherin friends.
"No!" Harry said. "No, that's not it. Look, can we talk about the details later?" he asked with a note of pleading in his voice, and a jerk of his head at Peregrine's friend and some others at the table who were merely feigning disinterest in the conversation.
"Certainly. For the second person, would you prefer Flint, Farley, or Montague?"
Not Farley, he thought to himself. Montague I already owe a favour to and I'd rather not owe a second, but I'm all square with Flint. Mind you, at least I know Montague can keep a secret, or I would've heard rumours circulating about the Darker books I borrowed from the library, or how I sent a letter to Millicent.
"Montague, for first preference. Flint if he's not free."
"I'll see what I can do to fulfil this favour," hinted Peregrine.
"I won't forget your help in this matter." Harry bowed his head in thankful acknowledgement, and scurried off to the Gryffindor table for breakfast.
-000-
The rest of Saturday was a busy day for Harry. First he had a secretive conference in the dorm with Neville and Hermione about his plans for the next couple of days – both were interested in coming along to his meeting with a reporter from the Prophet, should they show up in Hogsmeade on Sunday as per Harry's written invitation, but only Neville was interested in sneaking off with him to Grantown-on-Spey on Saturday afternoon.
"You could be expelled," Hermione worried, "or get a detention."
"It's not technically against the rules," Harry weaselled. "It's just assumed you won't go elsewhere, given the ban on Flooing or Apparating to other locations whilst on a Hogsmeade weekend."
"That's a pretty flimsy technicality! And aren't you worried about the Death Eaters on the loose? Neville?"
"Not really," said Neville. "I think the last place they'd look for us, if they're even trying, is a Muggle town. Hogsmeade would be more dangerous."
"True," she conceded, chewing at her lip worriedly. "Well… be careful! Take your wands! And don't forget about Slug Club tomorrow evening! If you get caught and get a detention you'll miss out on that, and it would be a real shame."
"I certainly won't. I'm hoping Slughorn can help talk to people about Sirius," Harry said.
"Good idea!" Hermione said approvingly. "I'll help too."
"I'm not invited, but good luck," said Neville.
Harry peeled off on his morning networking missions, making plans to meet up at lunchtime with Neville and Hermione to head off to Hogsmeade. The other two made plans to spend the morning quietly working on their Easter homework and doing some spell practice, which made Harry sigh with envy. The Weasley twins pulled away from the Gryffindor table as he rose.
"You don't really need to follow me around, you know," he said optimistically.
"Could be fun though," one said jocularly.
"There might be trouble, and we're not missing out on that!" grinned the other.
After a brief chat with Percy about his preferred escorts for Sunday, Harry was off like a shot weaving through the crowd of students leaving the Great Hall, in hopes of catching a couple of Ravenclaws before they dispersed to their private studying nooks and other activities for the day.
"Make way firsties! Heir of Slytherin on a mission, coming through!" laughed one Weasley.
The startled sea of tiny Hufflepuffs parted before him, and Harry buried his face in his hands. "Do you really have to do that?" he whined.
"It's still funny, wouldn't you agree Fred?" said the twin who was thus presumably George.
"I'd say so. Look at them scurry!" laughed Fred. "You looked like you were in a hurry, Harry. We're just trying to help. It's life or death, right?"
Harry hesitated, and said, "Well, I'd still rather you didn't do that, but technically, yes. It's to help Sirius Black. Innocent you know. Today I'm going to try and enlist as much help for him as I can."
"Well there you go! Move aside, little gnomes!"
Harry moved swiftly through the crowd like a celebrity flanked by two red-headed grinning bouncers, and eventually managed to spot Luna Lovegood's pale blonde hair as she went around a corner.
"Lovegood! Wait up!" he panted, as he jogged up to her. He was pleased to notice she had her shoes on today.
She turned with a smile, "Oh, hello Harry! Or should it be 'Potter'? We're friends now, right? It was a lovely card you sent me a while ago. We don't talk much, but we can still be friends, can't we? I'm not really sure how these things work, to tell you the truth.
"Did you know the Weasley twins are following you? Be careful not to eat anything they give you," she finished with a whisper.
"Harry is fine. And I'm sorry we haven't talked much!" he said guiltily. "I don't see you that often, and Potter Watch is often pretty busy. But you're welcome to stop by my table in the library whenever I'm studying with other friends, if you want to join us for a quiet study session."
Her face lit up happily. "That sounds lovely, thank you."
"Hi Loony!" said one of the Weasleys cheerfully, and her gaze went unfocused and distant. Harry had lost track of which twin was which, again.
"Hello," she replied dreamily, with a smile at the empty air.
"Unless you're close friends, you should address her as Lovegood, or Miss Lovegood," Harry said frostily, turning on the two.
"Well pardon me, Mr. Pure-blood Etiquette!" said the culprit, while the other laughed.
"Look, can you move back a little, give us a chance to chat?" asked Harry.
"Alright. But no hanky-panky! George and I will be your designated chaperones today. It wouldn't be proper to leave even a gentleman such as yourself alone with a lady for too long," said Fred, still sounding kind of offended and making George laugh even more.
They gave the Harry and Luna a little space, but kept them in sight.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You're welcome."
Uncomfortable with dwelling on the topic of her teasing, Harry got straight down to business. "So Luna, I was wondering if your father might like to run an article about Sirius Black in his newspaper? I'd be interested in providing some anonymous information about what really happened, about how Peter Pettigrew framed him, and then turned into a rat to hide for years."
"It won't be very anonymous," she said gravely. "I know it's you."
"Uh, well yes," he said awkwardly. "But your father wouldn't have to say it's me in the paper."
"I suppose he could do that, if you wanted. It might be an interesting story. And of course Sirius Black is really Stubby Boardman, and was never in Azkaban at all! Do you have more information about how he managed that?"
Harry looked at her, bewildered. "He was definitely in Azkaban. Who is Mr. Boardman, exactly?"
"But how could he be in Azkaban, and at the same time be enjoying a quiet retirement from The Hobgoblins in Lancashire?"
Harry stared at her, and she looked more uncomfortable as time went on and he didn't say anything, before shifting her gaze to stare absentmindedly at a portrait a little way down the hallway – it was a witch stirring something noisome and slimy into a bubbling cauldron. The girl is definitely strange, Harry thought. But so what? I'm kind of strange, too. No-one here is normal. Some of us are just stranger than others, and I'm certainly in no position to throw stones.
"Perhaps someone misinformed your father," he said diplomatically, "as I heard direct from Sirius Black himself that he was definitely in Azkaban for a decade. I suppose it's not impossible that he pretended to be Stubby Boardman for a while after escaping."
Luna turned back to him with a shy smile, as her eyes lit up again with vibrancy and focus.
"I'm sure Daddy would love to write a new article, and I'll let him know you're interested. You should owl him your ideas – the address is in the back of The Quibbler."
"Thank you Luna, I'll do that."
He bowed briefly in thanks to her, and she curtseyed back (rather than the more usual bow). Then Harry was off again, in search of Alice Tolipan, but after resorting eventually to asking a young witch with a blue and bronze hair ribbon where she was, they said all the older students had already left for Hogsmeade.
Harry was off to the West Tower to visit the Owlery next. The circular room was crammed with owls, and the straw-covered floor was littered with white splatters of owl droppings with occasional spots of black and splotches of brown, and the regurgitated disgusting furry pellets of the remains of mice and voles.
"Must you write your letters here?" complained a twin as Harry pulled out parchment, a quill, and ink. "The smell is really not that appealing."
"I know, but I'll be quick," he promised. "One of the letters is already written." He scribbled out an extra note mentioning Luna on the end of his letter to Mr. Lovegood which already detailed the "sinister plot" to frame Sirius Black by his "traitorous conniving friend whose body was never found" and who "lived as a pet rat for mysterious reasons unknown". He also wrote a new letter to Mrs. Tolipan, asking her to advocate for a trial for Black. With Lockhart's advice in mind, he wrote about how it brought him to tears thinking about how his parents' real betrayer was running free, not even searched for! And that a true and loyal friend of the family had suffered such severe deprivations with a decade in Azkaban as an innocent man! He knew his parents would have wanted to see the matter all sorted out with a proper trial, where the truth could come out. He hoped she could mention the matter on the Wizarding Wireless if her boss agreed, and would be at her disposal for a written interview upon request, if they needed additional quotes.
"Finally," grumbled a twin, as the second school owl was dispatched. "Want to go play Quidditch now? We could guard you and have a bit of fun."
"No, it's off to Slughorn's office next," Harry said.
"Good old Sluggy! He invited us to the junior Slug Club party tomorrow, you know. Says we've got a real future as Potioneers," said a twin happily. "I hope he stays on as Potions Master next year too – he's much happier with us experimenting in class than Snape was."
"He copied your idea with Potter Watch, you know," said the other. "I heard he used to just keep Slug Club invitations for the Sixth and Seventh years, maybe with a few rare exceptions. But for this party at least, he's split it up into senior and junior groups. Tonight is for the older students, and tomorrow is for the fifth years and below."
Professor Slughorn was delighted to see Harry stop by his office for a little chat, and Fred and George stayed outside the office to play Exploding Snap while they waited for Harry to re-emerge.
"I was wondering, sir," said Harry after introductions were out of the way, "if you might be able to use a spare ticket I have to next month's Appleby Arrows match? I heard you were a bit of a fan of Quidditch, and of course as it's a weekend during term, and not even a Hogsmeade weekend, I won't be able to go."
"Oho! Well I would be happy to take it off your hands," said Slughorn jovially, reaching out to take the proffered ticket. "But I do wonder why you got a ticket when you wouldn't be able to attend?"
"Well the team's manager Jacob Williams sends me free tickets. He's a bit of a fan. You know… the war."
"Good work! I must say, I usually go to the Holyhead Harpies' matches. The captain - Gwenog Jones – was a former student of mine. Slug Club member, of course!"
"I've heard they're a very good team too. So I was wondering," said Harry with an air of casualness that didn't fool the keen ear of the deceptively relaxed-looking professor, "if my cousin Pansy Parkinson might be able to attend your Slug Club party tomorrow? She'd really love to be invited, and I hoped I might be able to bring her as a guest?"
"First cousin? I wasn't aware there was a link to the Potter family there? I was sure James was an only child."
"Second cousin on my mother's side through a… disowned Parkinson family member, and a third cousin on my father's side via the Blacks. 'Cousin' keeps things simple." Harry censored himself from saying "Squib" as he remembered Anthony's advice to avoid using blood purity terms. It was a bad habit of his, and he was trying to work on it.
Slughorn said he'd be delighted to invite Harry's cousin to his party. "Though I regret I cannot at this stage make any promises for my dinner parties! They are rather more exclusive than my larger soirées."
They chatted for a little while about the upcoming party, and past Slug Club members. Harry saw more photos on the wall than he was really interested in, but put on a façade of interest to cover his impatience to leave. He did love seeing another photo of his mother in one, however! Slughorn raved about how good she was at potions, which Harry was eager to hear all about.
Harry volunteered that Colin Creevey was a rather good photographer who'd taken photos that Witch Weekly had bought in the past. "I'm not saying you have to invite him, by any means! I just thought if you did want some photos, I'd be happy to speak to him and invite him to attend in a professional capacity?"
"Excellent thought Harry, capital idea," said Slughorn, with a curious look at Harry. "I must say that being raised amongst Muggles certainly hasn't done you any harm. You seem to have taken to wizarding society quite well. And dare I suggest that there's a social nous that I usually see more obviously in my Slytherin students?"
Harry looked embarrassed at that shrewd observation with its mix of flattery and its rather patronising attitude towards Muggles. "Well there's a dash of Slytherin in my nature, I suppose. And I have Pansy and a few Slytherin friends to give me tips now and then."
"Speaking of which, you're welcome to bring your pet snake along to the party tomorrow!"
"Thank you sir, that's very thoughtful of you and I know he'll appreciate that opportunity too. He likes to get out and about with me when he can, and he's nocturnal so evening outings are fun for him."
Eventually Harry managed to escape, glad that Slughorn didn't want to talk forever like Lockhart used to. As he and the twins wandered through the lower levels of Hogwarts, he ran across Draco.
"Harry, at last!" panted Draco. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Stay put, I've got to go fetch Flint – he wants to talk to you. Stay!" He dashed off again after that last command.
The twins chuckled quietly. "Good boy! Harry – stay!"
"Knock it off!" cried Harry, batting away their hands as they tried to pat his head and ruffle his hair.
Eventually Flint showed up led by Draco, grandly ignoring the twins' mutterings about Harry "consorting with the enemy", which Harry suspected – or hoped – was rooted in their Quidditch rivalry. Draco hovered and followed, curious and quiet, while Flint led Harry away down the corridor out of earshot of the Weasleys.
"So Derrick and I will be your escorts tomorrow, and I want to know what you expect us to do, exactly?"
"Just look the other way tomorrow at Hogsmeade while I sneak off on business of my own," said Harry. "Maybe keep a low profile while I'm gone."
"What are you up to, exactly?"
"Business of my own," said Harry warily.
"Fair enough," grunted Flint. "So I would like to call in my favour straight away, if that is acceptable to you."
"Depends on what it is, but sure."
"I'd like some help with my Care of Magical Creatures final project," he said.
"You do remember I'm only in third year, right?"
"Yes, but you are pretty smart – everyone says so. And I have been thinking I could study a snake – you could help with that by talking to it so it doesn't bite me. Maybe write up a few notes for me."
"Snakes are actually usually passive and disinclined to bite," said Harry. "I mean, I'm happy to help if it won't take too much time, but as a rule of thumb the best idea is probably to just drop the food near it and give it some space. They prefer live to dead food, by the way."
Flint shook his head. "Maybe ordinary snakes are harmless, but not the kind of creatures Professor Hagrid wants us to study. We have to choose a dangerous creature rated XXXX or above and help look after it for a month and give a talk about it, or write an essay. I thought I would do the talk."
"He brought Hippogriffs to our first class," Harry said sympathetically. "They're XXX creatures according to the Ministry. Draco getting hurt is what helped push through restrictions so he couldn't keep doing stuff like that."
Draco nodded silently.
Flint looked unhappy at Harry's statement, rather than pleased. "Well it may be all well and good for you young kids, but us NEWT students have to do the really dangerous animals," scowled Flint. "You know what the sixth and seventh year Slytherins call his class? 'Fear of Magical Creatures.' And it's a fair label. He had an Erkling at our first class. You know about them? Tiny evil little elf-gnome creatures that entrance and eat children. But he insisted there haven't been any deaths for decades, and they're very misunderstood. Rumour has it he wants to show off 'real friendly' Acromantulas and dragons at the end of the year if he can get permission. They're creatures with a five X rating! 'Known wizard killer – impossible to train or domesticate.' He's worse than Kettleburn."
"Fair enough. I see why you'd like a bit of help with a snake, then. Do you want to do your project on Wonambi? Storm and I would be happy to help you there."
"No, no, weren't you listening? It has to be something dangerous. At least rated with four Xs by the Ministry standard. He said we can do a five X creature if we can find one we 'take a likin' to.' But words cannot express how little I want to do that. I would rather keep all my limbs where they are thanks. I can't afford to lose so much as a finger if I want to get on a professional Quidditch team."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Oh, I guess they're not in a lot of the British textbooks. You don't have to study Wonambi. I'd be happy to help with another snake, too. It sounds like fun! But just so you know, Wonambi are a magical snake species with a four X rating."
"What?" interjected Draco suddenly, looking a little pale. "But I've held it! Mother had it in her lap like a pet cat, cooing over it! You never said it was so dangerous!"
"He's not! Mostly. He's a sweetheart, really. He won't hurt any of my friends. But I suppose he is a bit uh… aggressive in stuff he says sometimes, though. He does talk about attacking people sometimes," Harry admitted with embarrassment, "and he did attack Sirius with a lightning bolt. It's a good thing I can talk to him, I believe. I think a wild Wonambi would be a lot more trouble – a big one, not a baby snake like Storm. Especially around people they didn't like. Oh, and you really wouldn't want a big one around small children. That's in the booklet."
"Alright Hagrid Junior, you've talked me into it. A domesticated four X snake sounds perfect," said Flint. "And no-one can say I'm copying this time! But you can't let anyone else use Storm for their final assignment, right?"
"Sure," Harry promised lightly. "Not if I have anything to say about it, that is."
Flint nodded, and bid the boys farewell.
"He wouldn't attack me would he?" worried Draco.
"No! He likes you, and your mum."
"It's not like he could do much anyway," Draco muttered, mostly to himself. "He's small still. But what about the lightning?"
"When he's older he should be able to move large boulders around when he digs, too," Harry said with a sideways glance at Draco, trying to hide his smirk. "And squeeze people to death."
Draco shuddered. "I wish Pansy had gotten you something less lethal. He was so cute when you first got him. He's growing so fast."
"I like him."
"Well he obeys you, you overly smug foolhardy Gryffindor! You can talk to him! It's different!"
"True. I wouldn't be very keen on him if he didn't listen to what I said," Harry admitted. "He only attacked Sirius because I told him to. Oh, but he went after Ron on his own. Remember his personal raincloud?"
"Marvellous," sighed Draco worriedly with a shake of his head. "He'll attack on his own."
"I had been ranting a bit the night before about what a giant prat he was."
"You could set him on anyone," said Draco, with wide eyes.
Why was that his first thought? wondered Harry.
"But I wouldn't. I even called him off Ron when I realised what he was up to. And anyway, I could probably do something like that with any snake, I think. I haven't tested that, obviously. But what little literature there is says all snakes will obey a Parselmouth. Which reminds me, I'd appreciate it if you can tell me where to find a book with that snake-summoning spell you cast last year at Ron."
Draco sighed. "Sure, Harry. A million snake minions, coming up."
A/N: Sorry I'm a little late posting today! I was out watching "Guardians of the Galaxy 2".
Thanks to Riniko22 and my husband (let's call him Perseus) for inspiration for the terrifying CoMC class that NEWT students have to suffer through under Professor Hagrid.
Thanks as always to all my lovely reviewers! I think I'm caught up on responding to reviews now, except for a backlog of ones pointing out little typos to fix (thanks for alerting me to those, I will try and get to them soon).
Special thanks today to all my guest reviewers, whom I can't reply to except in an author's note. Particular thanks this week to Julie and Shannon! Julie, I'm glad you had a nice reading binge. Shannon, I'm pleased to hear you enjoy my author's notes. I put them at the end of a chapter rather than the start, so that it's easy for those who aren't interested in them to skip over them easily.
I've had a fair few reviews/comments the last couple of chapters encouraging me to update soon. Please note that this fic is updated weekly every Tuesday morning (Australian time) with a new chapter (may be Mon night in your time zone), and that pattern will continue unabated until all thirty-three chapters are up and this fic is complete. This gives me the freedom to work on other writing projects at my leisure, while still enjoying the fun of posting new things regularly.