Posted 3/29/2014
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After a dear reviewer asked me quite nicely and for a second time to reconsider the tags, I changed the Romance tag for the time being until romance gains in importance. It doesn't change what I've written or posted, it just means some time later I'll return to the previous setting.
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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.
Chapter Twenty-Nine – In Hiding
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With a quiet Pop! Harry appeared on the steps of Sirius' house that had become Harry's just a year before. Like always, it still had its dark looming presence, but it would serve its purpose well enough. Only a handful of people could enter it as far as he knew, and almost all of them were on his side.
He ducked in with little trouble. Nothing was out of order as far as Harry could tell, yet he still listened intently into the silence for any sign of other people - or bodies. Nothing happened. Wand in hand he advanced down the dark corridor. Close to the kitchen, he sat on the floor and waited for whatever would happen. What was going on? How long would it take for Moody to inform everyone? And then, what could they do? Once they would have a sufficiently big force to return to Harry's holiday home, the Death Eaters would have long since left. And Harry knew they wouldn't wait around.
No, Voldemort wouldn't want to wait around after a botched attempt. So what would he do? Revenge, surely, but against whom? It hadn't been the Order that had caused the newest failure, but the incompetence of the Death Eaters. How would Voldemort see it? Well, from his point of view, he had been tricked by two young adults, had been ridiculed even. Perhaps he would go after Greengrass? It sounded reasonable. Harry knew he should have kept her around. But then, where should he have taken her? To Grimmauld Place? To Greengrass Manor? The Burrow? And there was an inkling of doubt. Could he trust her? Perhaps she had tried to sell him out.
No, Voldemort wouldn't see her as the mastermind behind their escape, Harry decided. He would see it as a personal offence by Harry, by his one enemy who had repeatedly slipped through the net. So, Voldemort would try whatever he could to get to Harry. That only left the doubts about Greengrass' trustworthiness.
But this attack... Harry wondered about it. All in all, Voldemort had had a lot of his people with him, but surely not all. So where had the rest been? On some other mission, of course, which meant an attack on numerous targets all over the country. Had the Death Eaters succeeded elsewhere? And why couldn't they have waited one day? Harry felt far too tired to think too much about it, but forced himself to keep his eyes open. A lost day for his war preparations, a personal attack on himself.
Who had handed him over? He doubted anyone of his friends and allies would have betrayed him, at least not willingly. Harry went over everyone he could remember seeing at the party and tried to match them to the figure he had seen. Harry chose to ignore his allies for the time being. For example, Neville would rather die than join forces with Bellatrix Lestrange who had taken his parents from him, but he couldn't be so sure about the Greengrass' side, and that was where he suspected a traitor. He felt better knowing there had been one. It felt better to assume a betrayal rather than an oversight on their part.
He had been an idiot, Harry realized with a jolt. He suddenly knew who had been under that mask, who had had a mission for years that would have been completed at last. Why hadn't he seen it before? So Pettigrew had been allowed out of hiding then? It was worrying in itself. If Pettigrew was allowed outside again, then Voldemort didn't need secrecy any longer. Worse, if Pettigrew was up to his old tricks, running around like a rat, then it would be laughably easy for him to sneak into rooms - houses, even, on tailcoats and in bags - and listen in on talks. Very worrying.
Something needed to be done about the traitor, and soon, Harry judged. He needed to be caught, needed to be handed over to the Ministry to be dealt with.
At least Harry had escaped with Moody's help. And he had even managed to take Greengrass as well. That had to count for something. He'd done relatively well, all things considered, and used the only possible escape route. What else could he have done? Breaking the anti-Apparition wards? Even mediocre wizards thought to take counter-measures to protect their work, Voldemort would have done as well. He had with the cave, after all.
The cave. Ah, Harry realized, he should have just used Kreacher to fetch them. Oh well, maybe the next time he was caught in a trap.
But the day wasn't lost yet, Harry judged, and the attack had its advantages. He wasn't stuck playing nice and normal with Greengrass, he could use his time productively. He still had a lot of memories to sort through if he wanted to be a challenge for Voldemort himself.
He closed his eyes and focused on the last threads he had worked on. Ah, yes, work at Borgin and Burke's. There had been that book on the deadly poisons of South Africa. But poisons had neither been his strongest suit nor his preferred strategy. They fulfilled their purpose, yes, and covertly killing people had its advantages, but poisons also meant the reliance on a substance. They meant keeping them in order, they meant slipping them the victim; they meant the victim not knowing they had fallen in a trap until it was far too late to enjoy the victory. But that book had been useful, hadn't it been? The old Smith, yes, which led back to the Horcruxes. Borgin had also bought that very useful knife – cursed, naturally, and old. It had been excellent to get rid of that pesky Ministry official. 'Mad wife stabs husband,' heh. It had been amusing to hear about her claiming innocence, and even more to see her carted off to Azkaban. Then there had been that tottering old fool, who...
The front door of Grimmauld Place burst open. With a jolt, Harry woke up. Through the door he could see it was still night outside. How long had he slept? An hour maybe? Why had he not paid better attention? Falling asleep on the job, Moody would have given him quite a tongue lashing for that one as well.
And worse, someone had found him. Nothing seemed to be there, but the door closed again, and through the dark corridor, Harry could hear footsteps and panting. So they were invisible, just like he was, but in worse condition.
"Quiet!" someone whispered, barely audible and unrecognisable through the rustling of robes of the painting over Harry. He readied himself for an attack.
Then another voice sounded. "Come on." They came closer, and Harry tensed, ready to jump.
"Homenum revelio," he heard the first voice – a familiar one – whisper and felt a wave of magic hit him. He jumped from his hiding place into the corridor.
"What did I plan to develop a week ago?" he asked into the silent and empty hallway.
"Harry!" the second voice replied, full of relief. Ron, possibly. Or an impostor.
"You wanted to add another enchantment to the mirrors so they would only work for specific people," came the reply in Hermione's voice. "It wouldn't work properly, though, as the mirrors would be too magical not to draw suspicion. Instead, you tinkered around with the spells to create a beacon. I have the receiver with me, incidentally. Why did you leave it lying around, anyway? It could have saved us a lot of trouble if you had carried it with you."
Harry was fairly certain it was Hermione. They had talked about that problem, had discussed about possibilities to hide the nature of the mirrors from unwanted people. She had been delighted to have a friend who could actually understand part of what she said when she rambled.
"The other one, now. What did I do when you found me this morning?" Harry demanded of the other visitor who was possibly Ron.
"You mean yesterday. Er, cut your toenails," the other voice answered.
Hermione spoke up once more. "Your turn. What did I give you before we left for the... before we left your room at the Burrow?"
"Trick question. You didn't come into my room, I was in the main bedroom looking at myself because it has a full-length mirror. You gave me a four-leafed clover, to be worn under my robes." Harry quickly cast a Homenum Revelio of his own and found only two responses - the new arrivals. He relaxed his stance and cancelled the disillusionment charm. "Hello, Hermione. Hello, Ron."
Suddenly he felt himself hugged by both of his friends. Ron had stepped out from under the cloak, but Hermione was still partially under it.
"We were so afraid when we heard!" Hermione told him, her face burrowed in his chest. "Lupin warned us, told us to start packing and leave immediately. He must have known, must have suspected something. Harry, they came to the Burrow!" She felt him tense, but clung on. "Ministry people, Harry. They came to search for you! He must have taken the Ministry! If Lupin hadn't warned us, hadn't sent us upstairs to pack we wouldn't have escaped. They didn't know about the cloak, I think, that is how we managed to slip out. We don't know what happened afterwards, but they were tearing the house apart!"
The muscles in Harry's jaw tensed. "He's taken the Ministry? What do you mean, he's taken the Ministry?"
"Just that, Harry," Ron replied with an ugly scowl. "It's the only explanation. There were no Aurors, but I recognized one of the others. He's wanted for suspicion of Death Eater activity, a nasty fellow. We would have helped fight them off, but..."
"We had to get out," Hermione added. "They were looking for you. They were looking for us! If we had shown our faces..."
"So the Ministry has fallen," Harry spoke up. He suddenly felt very stupid for not having realized it sooner. So that was why there had been only about twenty Death Eaters. So that was why Pettigrew was allowed outside again. It hadn't been an attack on the Order as he had thought, it had been a take-over. "Figures. Well, that's... any idea when he... No, probably not. But he must've done it during the wedding, I guess. That makes sense. With lots of the Order there and me beginning a new part of life, of course he'd time his take-over to happen at the same time. He's big on symbolism," Harry spat.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. "Mrs. Weasley was out of her mind when she learned about the attack. She didn't want us to leave her house, but luckily, Lupin convinced her."
"Moody's making the rounds, from what we've heard," Ron put in.
"Yeah, he said so when we split up. Let's hope our luck holds up," Harry told them. Don't think about the mistakes of the past, he told himself.
Ron's "Our luck?" was drowned out by Hermione's "You met Moody?"
Harry chose to answer them both. "You didn't know that, Hermione? Yes. He was my security detail for the night. I should probably count myself lucky I even had one, it's not like the Order has an army of members to do those jobs; they're kind of stretched thin as it is. And yes, Ron, our luck. By mere luck did we learn about the likely take-over of the Ministry. If the attack on me hadn't failed, then they would have visited the houses of each member of the Order they could find, one after the other, gotten to them while they were asleep. By morning, they'd have stomped out the whole resistance. Yes, Ron, luck," Harry told them, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.
"But they sent Ministry people," Ron yelled. "Not his men."
Mrs. Black woke up and started screaming insults, but with a flick of Harry's wand, the curtains flew shut.
"If we're right, then they are his men now for all intents and purposes. Well, if I had to guess, they chose to send Ministry people to your family for a simple reason. Take-over or not, resisting them is still resisting the Ministry, something they could easily get your family for. Furthermore, he had a lot of his people with him, so he might have decided to prioritise and send his most trusted followers to take out the real risks and have the Ministry mind the rest."
"So my family is the rest?" Ron shouted, red in the face.
"You act as if that's a bad thing, Ron," Hermione replied, facing him. "Your father is a nice man. He's not an Auror. Your mother is a nice woman, but she is not an experienced fighter. Voldemort would have sent his best fighters after Tonks and Kingsley. And Moody, but he wouldn't be home, right? They are a danger because they know how to fight even when at a disadvantage."
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Because they aren't the biggest threat, they were reaonably safe. Be glad about that, if nothing else."
"So what do we do now?" Ron asked after a moment of silence. "Any plan, Harry?" They both looked at him.
"Well, yes. I intend to follow Moody's orders. He told me to keep my head down, and he's right. Until we know what is going on, we have to stay out of sight."
"Nothing? You want to do nothing?" Ron gaped at his friend.
"Lupin told us to leave, to hide, Ron." Hermione sighed. "The Order is under attack. But we cannot really help them. We have no troops to rally, and keep in mind we don't know for sure the Ministry has fallen. All we know is that Ministry personnel showed up and started tearing the Burrow apart. They might have simply switched sides or... or maybe they weren't Ministry people but merely saying they were." She looked at Harry. "I think you are right. We cannot do anything until we know what is happening. We... we have to wait."
Harry glanced at the wall. "This sucks."
"But you still want to stay here," Ron grumbled.
"Yes. Moody is right. Voldemort wants me? Well, I shouldn't make it easier for him by actively trying to find his friends, especially since I don't know whom I can trust."
They stood in the dark hallway and listened to the silence around them. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat.
"So you've been here this whole time? I didn't hear a door, so..."
"I waited for someone to show up. I sat over there in the corner. How did you know where to find me, anyway?"
"We didn't," Ron admitted. "Lupin told us to hide. Well, we don't really know that many hiding places, do we? I guess we could have gone to Neville or Luna, but neither of them would be prepared to provide a hiding place. Well, this here they cannot enter. This is the safest we could think of."
"Ah. Well, that explains it, I guess."
Hermione shifted her weight. "Er, Harry? Where's... where's Greengrass?"
Harry smiled at her. "Well, shortly after Moody left, she wanted to go to her parents' place. I saw no reason to stop her."
"No... Harry, she is your... I mean..."
"She is a pureblood who has little to fear from the Death Eaters. As long as she doesn't do something stupid like blab about Voldemort's monologue..."
"He talked to you?" Hermione shrieked, stumbling backwards.
"Er, no. He tried to." And he told them about their escape. At the end of it, Ron leaned against the wall, laughing raucously. Hermione however fought down her smile.
"She might still get in trouble. She helped you trick Voldemort. They won't like that much."
"She was just along for the ride. I was the instigator, I planned it; I'm his nemesis and the bane of his existence, which is pretty pathetic once you think about it. But Hermione, what should I have done? Join her? Yeah, brilliant idea, I'm sure her parents would have loved having me around. Drag her here against her will? Okay, I might have done that, but now I'm glad I didn't. She'd have known about Grimmauld Place, and that's a risk both to us and her."
Once more they fell silent before Hermione waved them towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's see whether we cannot make us something to eat. Or maybe a bit of tea? I could use one, and then I can finally drop that blasted bag." She jerked her shoulder and moved the small bag she was carrying. "Undetectable Extension Charm," Hermione explained, "but I had no time to weave a Featherweight Charm in there. Those two don't mix that easily. Say, could you... ? I threw everything I could find in there. I'm tired of lugging it around, and we don't need to keep quiet anymore."
Nodding shortly, Harry took the bag from her. She hadn't exaggerated; it felt as if she had at least two school trunks in it. Just how big had she made the bag on the inside?
"Daphne, your friends are here," Mrs. Greengrass announced. She looked about ten years older, mostly because of the bags under her eyes. Then again, from what Daphne could tell, neither of her parents had gotten any sleep the previous night and instead spent their time nervously watching the ground for signs of an attack or unannounced visit. In fact, Mrs. Greengrass had been too shocked to insult the good-for-nothing Potter too much who had scared his wife away after getting her in danger in the first place. On the other hand, she had also refused to acknowledge his part in the safe return of her daughter.
The door flew open and one after the other, Pansy and Tracey came in. Both looked bad, worse than Daphne herself, she thought, as if they had had to run for their lives, but their faces lit up when they saw her.
"Daphne, we were so worried about you!" Tracey yelled. "You can't imagine our shock when we wanted to surprise you this morning only to find the burned remains of the house!"
"So it's indeed destroyed?" Daphne asked with a pensive nod. She had guessed so but hadn't dared to check herself.
"It's not a surprise something like that happened," Pansy threw in. "You're just lucky to have escaped, not many can say that of themselves, even if they aren't the target."
"Maybe I just can't cook? Maybe I forgot to turn off the stove?" Daphne said.
"Don't make me laugh," Pansy replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The house Potter just so happens to stay in burns down and you hide in your room afterwards? It's obvious the Dark Lord attempted to kill Potter. As much as I hate to say it, but the boy has a talent for escaping."
Tracey nodded. "Well, when you put it like that, yes. Where is he, anyway? You... you didn't bring him here, did you?"
"Do you think I'm stupid? For one, he has a powerful Dark Lord after him, now more than ever. But other than that, I very much doubt my parents would have welcomed him into the house. No, we split up somewhere on some forest road. I came here, he... I don't know, actually. He planned to lie low. No idea where, and frankly, after the last night, I couldn't care less about his safety."
After a blink, Tracey began grinning. "Oh, something you want to tell us? Did he," she snorted, "did he try something?"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "First of all, no, it was more the powerful Dark Lord that made an impression. Potter was quite adamant about staying as far away from me as he could."
"As he should," Pansy said with a satisfied nod.
"Second of all, we had barely enough time to tour the house before we had to leave already."
Tracey gasped. "They came so soon after you turned up there?"
"Well, I managed to get a shower in – alone, before you get any thoughts – but other than that, yes. Back to topic, third of all, if he had tried something, the Dark Lord would have found his work already half done. Do you think I would have let Potter closer to me than necessary? The contract activated. Did I have a hand in that? I would have been perfectly happy if someone had bought out." It wasn't a lie, Daphne told herself. She hadn't denied having a hand in it. "Nobody did, and that's why I'm stuck with Potter."
"You didn't look so unhappy at the ceremony," Tracey replied, smirking at her friend.
"I was a bride. It's difficult looking unhappy when everyone is staring at you and expecting to see joy. And I cannot remember ever really communicating with him during the celebrations." Seeing the retort already coming, Daphne raised a hand. "Apart from the necessary dance, but again, that is kind of in the job description of bride."
"You're also kind of boring this way, you know that? It's boring if you don't have any juicy stories for us. Nothing happened?"
"If you call escaping an attack nothing..."
"You know what I mean! Nothing? That is seriously a let-down."
Pansy rolled with her eyes. "I'd call it a relief. I really don't want to hear about whatever he might have come up with to spend the evening with you, Daphne."
"Well," she replied, glaring playfully, "then maybe you can understand how I felt every time you told us about your... adventures. Though, since you asked, Tracey, Potter did approve of my sleepwear. He called it 'nice'," she tried to emulate his tone. Pointing to the door, she added, "It's over there."
Tracey turned around and whistled. "Any hot-blooded boy would think so. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had ravaged you after seeing that. Hell, I would have, if I'd been there. Where did you get that?"
Daphne shrugged. "I don't know, actually. It was laid out for me. Or at least I think it was for me, it could have been meant for Potter."
"Well, I didn't see it when I helped set up the house earlier," Pansy spoke up. "Now I regret helping at all. Just think about all the work we did, and all for nothing. An oath to keep us from blabbing, even. And now it's burned to the ground."
"True, that's bad luck," Tracey laughed. "Well, at least you are still alive. Were you hurt?"
"I fell during the getaway. Potter might have bruised some of my bones in my hand when he pulled me to my feet. He doesn't look it, but he does have surprising strength."
They had spent most of the day keeping watch. Ron had suggested checking the wider world, maybe getting a Daily Prophet, but the arrival of people in cloaks in the courtyard of Grimmauld Place had laid those plans to rest. Death Eaters had arrived. The mood had taken a downturn around three in the afternoon. Harry had called Kreacher and had sent him to get some food since he doubted they would leave anytime soon. Ron meanwhile had become bad-tempered, lashing out at everyone. Hermione on the other hand had grabbed a book from the bag she had packed at the Burrow and had done some theoretical research whenever she didn't wasn't the look-out.
Dinner was a quiet affair. For maybe the first time since Harry had met Ron did the other boy not have an appetite. Hermione for her part had only reluctantly eaten the meal Kreacher had prepared, in part because she still disliked elf work which she considered slavery, but a small part of her lack of enthusiasm Harry guessed had to do with the glares the elf sent her direction. Kreacher had changed his behaviour towards Harry ever since the locket's destruction to something like reluctant acceptance, but he still had little love for what he considered Mudbloods and blood traitors.
"Perhaps if I were to take the cloak," Ron began.
"It's not infallible," Hermione interrupted him. "And just how do you think it would help your family if you were to sneak around their house?"
"If we haven't heard anything until noon tomorrow," Harry offered, "we can plan excursions into the wider world. But Ron," he added with a stern look, "the Burrow is not at the top of that list. Hermione is right, that is one place that is bound to be watched by Death Eaters."
"Those were Ministry people who showed up at our house," he told them stubbornly.
"And at least one man who you yourself admitted has been suspected of Death Eater activity," Hermione pointed out. "How would you know about that in any case?"
"I'm not stupid, you know? And I have ears, I can hear. Dad said something about that bloke. Said they'd had an eye on him during the first war."
"Wasn't he given a trial then?" Harry asked surprised. "If they thought he was one..."
"You know how they worked after that war." Ron scowled. "A lot bribed their way out of trouble, but some simply managed to get away with claiming to be imperiused."
They fell silent, each thinking about the troubles and the war.
"Tomorrow, Ron, if we haven't heard anything, we will venture out, perhaps to try to get a newspaper," Hermione told him, placing a hand on his arm. "We're worrying about them too, but we cannot risk being captured just because we were careless."
"I know. I know, it's just..." He gestured helplessly. "They're my parents. They're my family. You cannot understand it, your parents aren't..."
"Aren't what, Ron? Alive?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Or able to look after themselves when faced with wizards?" Hermione added, retracting her hand. In fact, her tone had become downright hostile.
"Aren't part of the ongoing war. Sorry, you two, it came out wrong, but... Harry, your parents are dead, you know they cannot... cannot be harmed, I guess."
"And I also never really got to know them," Harry replied, wondering just how deeper Ron would manage to dig the hole he was in already.
"Well, yes. I didn't say it was nice, but you do have certainty. And Hermione, your parents are, well, Muggles. If it weren't for you, they wouldn't be in any more danger than any other non-magical."
"So I'm a danger to them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I... no. Yes. I don't know. I just meant my parents are targets of their own. They're close to Harry; they are close to me, and even the Death Eaters know where I'm standing. My family, they're blood traitors. And I doubt they will just sit back and smile. They will continue the fight. But at least they are together, or I hope they are. And here I am, with you two and a foul house-elf, locked away to be kept safe."
Harry could see Hermione swallowing her retort and sent her a thankful nod. They really didn't need arguing, not with the uncertainty about the current situation. Just then, the front door could be heard.
"Kreacher, I think we are done," Harry said, rising from his place, wand already in hand. The elf came over and took the plates. Hermione scowled, but kept quiet. She too rose and readied herself for the upcoming confrontation.
Harry quickly cast disillusionment charms on all of them. Then they sneaked up into the hallway, ready to battle the visitor. Instead of an army of Death Eaters, they found only one lonely figure standing in the hallway, easily recognizable by the red hair and form.
"Bill!" Ron yelled. Harry rammed his elbow into his friend's side, but Hermione had already clapped a hand over his mouth before Ron could say any more.
"There you are, then," the newcomer said. "I don't have much time. And invisible, good thinking."
"What did you realize about me on Christmas?" Harry asked. "What did you tell me in that hallway?"
Bill's sigh echoed through the hallway. "That you aren't the archetypical Gryffindor that I believed you to be, and I still stand by what I said back then. That you also have Slytherin's traits, and not the nicer ones."
"Good to have you here," Harry greeted.
"Yes, well, I don't have much time, so I'll make it quick. The family's being watched. They roughed up Dad when he couldn't say where you were. Tortured him a bit. Mum's rattled, of course. Ginny's fine, all things considered. She got a bit shirty with one of the intruders and got hurt, but nothing a bit of Skele-Gro couldn't fix. We were lucky, mostly because we're not that important." He ran a hand through his hair. "Tonks and Kingsley are fine as well. Funny story there, Tonks was away with some boy-toy of hers, apparently, and Kingsley was covering for a friend of his. Neither was at home. The Death Eaters were displeased, but no one was hurt. The Ministry's fallen, though, and they're making a move on all they deem a threat. This morning, Hestia Jones was found dead. Well, most of her was found dead, we don't know where the rest ended up. Someone set fire to Diggle's house, investigation's still going on. Not much damage there, and he survived. He's got a safe room under his house. He may be an idiot some of the time, but he does have his moments."
"Was Voldemort sighted?" Harry asked.
"Other than by you, no, but that is not really surprising. He has his people in place, they're doing his work. He just has to lean back and enjoy the fruits of his labour. He's won the upper hand," Bill snarled. "Someone showed up at work today. They spoke with the goblins. I think they are trying to gain influence at Gringotts as well. We've switched places with them, you see? The Death Eaters, I mean. We're at a disadvantage now and hunted."
"We already guessed a take-over. Did it work, then?" Hermione said.
"More than that. Hardly anyone has noticed anything. The Ministry people go to work; they follow the orders from their superiors. The stores are open, the Daily Prophet is churning out lies. Business as usual. People like Jones don't really matter, they'll probably make up some cock-and-bull story about her. No, the biggest headline today was the sudden resignation of Scrimgeour. He didn't feel up to the job anymore, or that's what they're claiming."
"Killed off, then?" Harry asked scoffing.
"Very likely," Bill agreed with a grim face. "They would have claimed a sudden death, I'm sure, but something else came up in that respect. Dumbledore's dead."
Hermione gasped, invisible. Ron groaned, "They got Dumbledore?"
Bill shook his head. "No, not from what I can tell. It's what everyone's talking about, though. He died about two weeks ago, but McGonagall kept quiet about it. Well, she was arrested." Hermione stumbled into Harry's shoulder, but Bill continued, not having seen anything. "The Ministry says she wanted to use his death to secretly gain control at Hogwarts, kind of like a puppet master. The irony of one puppet accusing someone else of being a puppet master is not lost on us, of course. Yes, Dumbledore died, and McGonagall has taken the fall for it. I doubt they will keep her for long, too many people know her, but... it put her on their list."
"And Hogwarts? What about that?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know everything. It all depends on what happens in the next few days. My guess is they will keep it relatively unchanged. Most of the time, the students learn the basics anyway. With Dumbledore dead, Snape will most likely return to his post as Potions master."
"He always wanted the Defence against the Dark Arts, though," Ron pointed out. "He wouldn't give that up."
"I've thought about that, actually," Harry said. "Voldemort would want someone else keeping an eye on the school. So why not send another Death Eater as the teacher for Defence? It's actually quite easy to find someone for that field if you have an army of morally ambiguous killers at your beck and call. Snape can continue Potions, that's two subjects for them. Slughorn might be allowed to leave. And Snape can escape the curse on the post."
"You don't actually believe the post is cursed, do you?" Hermione questioned.
"I do," Bill spoke up. "Curses are my business, Hermione. I wouldn't put it past Voldemort to curse the job to hinder education on proper protection against his followers. One year of losing the teacher one way or another is curious, two is odd, three is a pattern." He glanced at his watch. "I should probably go or it'd look suspicious if all I have to show for myself are some flowers for the wife. Which reminds me – congratulations, Harry. Sorry we couldn't be there, but..."
"It's fine. Go."
"Yes. Stay hidden, don't do anything stupid. Wait for new instructions." He left.
Harry cancelled the disillusionment charms. They looked at each other. Finally, Ron voiced his thoughts. "This really sucks."
"Take-over of the Ministry. Great," Harry agreed. "And that means no Hogwarts either." Hermione whirled around, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, you can't honestly plan to walk to the Hogwarts Express? One, they will be waiting for us. Two, even if we somehow manage to get on the train, there is still the ride north. A ride where people will know we're on the train. Three, if we manage to stay out of sight until then and slip into Hogwarts, then it will be a Hogwarts under Death Eater control. We can't go."
"But we've already done the homework!" Ron yelled. "We've... hours, Harry, hours of our summer! You mean I could have...?"
Harry rubbed his chin. "Well, we could send them to Hogwarts, I guess. They might like that, don't you think so? Bill is right, though. It's best if we stay low for the moment. Whatever we do from now on has to be carefully planned. Hermione, do you have the coins with you? The fake Galleons? I left mine at the Burrow."
"I think so, yes. I packed everything I could find before they turned up and we had to leave." She looked pale, but recovered from the shock of having to drop out of school.
"Good. We'll put up a message for the DA," Harry told them.
"Only Luna and Neville still check them," Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"I still want them to know we're not risking it, but alright and reasonably healthy. They are our friends, they deserve to know that much." Harry explained, glancing towards the painting of Mrs. Black. "And then we should try to make ourselves at home here. If this is to be our base for the foreseeable future, then we should fit it to our needs. And that means she has to go." He pointed towards the paintings behind the curtains. "I refuse to walk past her each morning."
On September First, just like every year, students stumbled onto the platform. Just like every year teary good-byes were heard, stern reminders to the unruly as well as encouragements to the younger years. To the unobservant and intentionally blind, nothing seemed out of order. But the others did see the deviations. Never before in living memory had there been so many officials from the Ministry present, and also never before had there been more hidden as well. They were lurking in the shadows or standing in the crowd as if they were there to show someone off.
But it wasn't only the presence of these minders that was unusual. Even the people who did have business mirrored the change of political climate. Some adults avoided the gazes of everyone around them, ducked behind taller people, their heads bowed, hiding their fearful expressions or the occasional bruise from the crowd. They accompanied children who looked frightened, dragging their feet. Others in the crowd stood proud, smiling at their fellows. One such was Narcissa Malfoy who looked far younger and happier than she had in years. But then, a lot of people merely dropped their children off and waited for the train to depart. To them, little had changed, and they would soon return to their work, deal with their lives as if nothing had happened around them, ignoring the signs or simply staying indifferent.
At eleven, the train left just as it had in the years past, while the families were ushered away. Mrs. Malfoy did not need an invitation. She knew her son would be fine, and in her mind, that was all that mattered. Instead, she returned to her important business. If her son helped restore the family's name, then she would try as well. And with the Ministry's new guidelines, it wouldn't take too long to set everything right, and then, they could finally take revenge on those who had dared lay hands on her husband. The Malfoys would once again be one of the most respected families, just like they were supposed to be. The Dark Lord rewarded loyalty, after all. She only wished the late Amelia Bones would have still been alive to witness it, but she had already been dealt with.
On the train, Daphne quickly found her friends and joined them in their compartment.
"We thought you wouldn't come anymore," Zabini greeted, getting to his feet to help her with her luggage. One could say a lot about his mother, and most of it wouldn't be all that flattering, but she had taught her son manners. And his reluctance to enter any real relationships suggested he had learned about those from watching his mother and her streak of mysteriously dying husbands.
"My father hadn't wanted me to come, originally," she said, frowning. "He would have preferred keeping me close, especially after the... incendiary incident, but in the end, he gave in and let me come. Not that he had much of a choice, what with the new stance the Ministry's taken. So since I had to come, how else would I travel to Hogwarts, if not with the train with my friends?" Daphne replied with a nod to Tracey who returned to staring out of the window and Millicent who smiled slightly.
"Well, rumour has it you were planning to drop out and move to a distant land with your husband," Zabini told her with a roll of his eyes. "Personally, I don't put much stock in these wild ideas some of the more immature people have –you aren't suicidal. But then, a lot can happen over the holidays."
"My husband." Daphne rubbed her eyes in an overly dramatic fashion. "And nobody found it in themselves to remind people of the simple facts of this... situation? Don't they remember the article in the newspaper? Don't they remember all that talk about that contract business from last year?"
"And waste a perfectly good opportunity for baseless gossip? And here I thought you knew how the school worked behind the scenes." Zabini sat down in the seat opposite Tracey. "I was asked to tell you, by the way, that my mother is very sorry to not have made an appearance at the wedding. She was quite... busy, from what I know. If you ever wish for her advice on married life, you are free to ask her, though."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "I don't intend to kill Potter. That's what the Dark Lord is there for, right?"
"Ah, yes. That. You are right, of course, but then, the offer is still open." The dark-skinned boy nodded pensively. "How is married life treating you, then?"
"It's no different than before. I don't care whether he's in the same room or on the other side of the country. Father wasn't too bad in the last weeks, but that might be because it's finally all done with and the world is still turning. Mother was a bit shorter than normal. She is still upset about the whole business. And, well, Astoria's been her usual self. I'm looking forward to being rid of her."
"Well, did you like the gift in your house?" Zabini asked with a devious smile.
Millicent cleared her throat. "He means the nightclothes. Somehow he thought it would be funny."
"But you are mistaken, Bulstrode! It wasn't my joke. When I did a last sweep of the room, it was there, laid out for you. I guess someone found it funny. Astoria perhaps? I know she was around some of the time, and she'd have known what to get."
"She wouldn't have left it," Daphne replied dismissively, thinking privately about the note. No, Astoria wouldn't have left the note that had accompanied the nightclothes.
"Well," Blaise said with a shrug, "I merely left it - I thought it might make the evening more... comfortable? Besides, why spoil someone's fun, even if it's the groom's?"
Daphne pursed her lips. "I might have liked it better had I been prepared for it. Also, different company might have helped. But I have to say, I did like it, Potter looked surprisingly good in that negligee."
Millicent snorted, but Zabini actually coughed, shocked. "Not funny, and not an image I needed."
"Then next time, keep that in mind when you prepare surprises."
"I told you it wasn't me," Blaise complained. "Wish it had been my idea, though. Well, the next time, then."
"She liked it and still has it," Tracey told him with a wave.
The next hours were spent trying to catch up and finishing their homework. It became apparent just how much the difficulty had risen in the last year as each of them had had something they had been unable to do properly beforehand. About an hour to Hogwarts, though, they were interrupted by the arrival of Draco Malfoy, Pansy shadowing him.
"Greengrass," he greeted unsmilingly. "Where is Potter?"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "What, do you miss him? I did wonder about the two of you for some time, actually, and this would make sense. Well, you can have him if you want," she added with a shrug.
"Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed and ignored Zabini's smirk. "Where is he, Greengrass?"
She sighed. "You caught me," she told him, raising her hands in defeat. "He's hiding in my trunk, between the socks and ties. You'll have to look very carefully, though, he is quite small and easy to overlook."
"Do you think it is funny, Greengrass? They made me Head Boy, you know?" Draco pointed to the pin on his robes. "Things will be different this year. So answer me, where is Potter?"
"All right then." Daphne locked eyes with him. "I don't know. Haven't seen him for over two weeks. Haven't heard from him either. No owls, no Fire-calls, no visits. I don't know where he is. Since Gringotts has sent a letter, he's still alive. I kind of hope he wasn't, would save me a lot of trouble looking for him. I can only guess that he is hiding somewhere, but I don't know for sure."
Malfoy peered at her as if judging her word.
"If you want something from him..." Tracey put in, recoiling slightly when he glared at her. "No, no, I didn't mean that. If you want something from him, why not ask his friends? They might know."
"And you think I didn't do that already? But neither the Mudblood nor the Weasley is on the train, and the others don't know where they are, either. That's three students missing already and the school year hasn't started yet."
"Well," Zabini replied with a shrug, "then I guess we can't help you. If their friends don't know, how should we?"
Millicent looked up from her book. "Wait, were Weasley and Granger not Prefects?"
"The key word is 'were'," Malfoy told her with a smirk. "Do you honestly think they would be allowed to keep their badge under any circumstances? After how they acted up over the last years, it should not be a surprise. No, it's Finnigan and Brown now. Wrote them up for improper attire already – they wear red and gold. I can't wait to get Longbottom, Lovegood and the last Weasley once we are at school."
Pansy giggled and Zabini nodded slowly. "You are starting early this year."
"Well, of course. If you ask me, neither of them should be allowed to have a wand, they just get stupid ideas." He glared at them, daring to disagree. When nobody did, he added, "If you see either of Potter's group, tell me." Turning to Pansy, he waved at her. "Come." With a small smile to her friends, she followed Draco.
Once they had left, Zabini shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about him. Did he honestly think we'd give up Potter?" All other occupants in the compartment whirled around to stare at him. He shrugged. "Let him have the glory of catching the boy? No, I don't think so, that's a reward I wouldn't simply hand over like that."
Millicent nodded slowly. "You are probably right. Then again, I doubt we could catch him in the first place. He is good at escaping, isn't he?"
They looked at Daphne, and she scoffed. "What, just because I am married to him – reluctantly, I have to remind you – I am suddenly an authority on him?"
Tracey looked uncomfortable, but spoke up. "Well, you are the only one who has seen him in action so far, so..."
"Well, I guess so; he is rather good, yes, but you'll never know." Daphne thought about it. "He might slip up sometime; all it takes is one bad day for him."
They fell silent and turned back to their homework. Daphne was turning a page in her book, reading up about complex spell theories, when Millicent shifted in her seat. More out of reflex than anything, Daphne looked up and saw the other girl staring at a spot on the wall, eyes slightly narrowed. Their eyes met, and Millicent blushed slightly.
"Sorry, it's just..." she shrugged helplessly. "I was wondering about the coming school year. Has anyone of you heard anything about who the new Headmaster will be?"
Zabini placed his quill down and frowned. "Well, no. Normally, I would say McGonagall. Whether you like her or not, she does have experience to back her up and would be the obvious choice. But last I heard they were still investigating her involvement in Dumbledore's death."
"Where'd you hear that?" Tracey asked, blinking at the boy.
"Well, they wouldn't publish it in the Daily Prophet, of course. I only know because of Mother. She got herself involved. She and McGonagall are... I wouldn't call them friends, far from it. I think they loathe each other. But Mother still spoke in favour of her at the Ministry, and that's why I know she was still being investigated a week ago."
"They loathe each other?"
Zabini nodded. "I have seen them come face to face once. They didn't shout, but even from the distance you could see them sniping at each other. Maybe it's something like loving to hate the other. Then again, I had half expected them to jump each other's bones, so..."
"All right," Tracey told him, "first of all: Ew! Didn't need that mental image. McGonagall is like... old. But back to topic: A week ago? So she could be cleared of all charges already?"
"Could be, yes. But the Ministry is keeping things under cover these days, and with Dumbledore's death becoming known only recently, they were scrambling to get everything for the next school year in order in the first place. I don't think anyone was really prepared for him dying, and now they have to fill his numerous roles as soon as possible. Back to topic, McGonagall would be a good choice. Relatively safe, competent, already familiar with the tasks at hand, she would be the prime candidate if it weren't for her leanings. And I guess she did know about Dumbledore's death before the rest of Wizarding Britain, so she might have already begun her work behind the scenes."
Daphne scratched her cheek and thought back to the last school year. "The old man did keep back most of last year, didn't he? He didn't look that well, and there was his hand. I can't remember seeing him much either, he missed a lot of the meals."
"You think they prepared for it?" Zabini asked pursing his lips in thought. "Sounds reasonable. Granted, I don't think he really had much contact with anyone in school apart from the teachers."
"And Potter," Daphne added. Seeing their stares, she shrugged. "Well, when I was... in the hospital wing – you know, after Valentine's Day? – Potter went and fetched Dumbledore. It didn't take him all that long, really, and they returned together."
"Well, fine then. He really didn't have that much contact with anyone in school apart from the teachers and Potter," Zabini said with a roll of his eyes. "In any case, Dumbledore might have prepared for his death in which case McGonagall might have already begun arranging matters behind the scene. So, McGonagall would be a good choice as she has been about equally harsh to everyone." He frowned, thinking for a moment. "Flitwick might be acceptable as well."
"Are you serious?" Tracey laughed.
"He has been at school for a while," Zabini told them. "But I don't think it'll be him. Ignoring for a moment that he simply doesn't exude authority, there is also his ancestry to consider. A part-goblin as Headmaster?"
"Not with the relations to Gringotts as they are now," Millicent agreed. "I heard Mother mention it. They are strongly opposing any change the Ministry is proposing."
"Right, so Flitwick is out." Zabini bit his lip. "Let's see. Well, the Ministry might simply send someone. The Headmaster doesn't need to be an educator, only an administrator, and they did voice their concerns over the management of the school both two years ago..."
"When they were at odds with Dumbledore at the helm, yes," Daphne reminded him. "Once the Dark Lord's return could no longer be denied, they quickly changed their mind."
He snorted. "It was still a fun year for the most part. But they also weren't really all that happy in the last few weeks. The Headmaster dies and no one at school bothers to tell the Ministry? No, I think they will assign someone from their ranks who knows how to run an organisation. Maybe a Department Head?"
Millicent coughed. "Well, why not Professor Snape?" All looked at her, and she elaborated, "He has been with the school for a while as well and has proven himself as Head of House Slytherin."
Laughing, Tracey shook her head. "Professor Snape? Come on, he is... what, forty? Don't you think they might want someone with a little more... experience?"
Just then the train started slowing down. "Time to get ready, girls," Zabini told them. They repacked their belongings and finished just as the train came to a stop at the station.
Entering the Great Hall half an hour later, Daphne looked up at the head table, but found the Headmaster's chair to be empty. She did see Professor McGonagall though, who looked very put out. Next to her sat Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms master. There was a new face, though, a scowling man.
Daphne quickly found a seat for herself. From there, she watched as the doors opened once more after everyone had sat down. Professor Snape strode in, his face an unreadable mask like always. He made his way to the head table, but didn't sit down. Instead, he walked to the side and stood, staring straight ahead.
Then the doors opened once more, and the throng of first-years entered. It was odd, Daphne found, how similar they looked to the past years, fearfully glancing around, but there seemed to be less than in the other years. A stocky woman led them in, but Daphne couldn't put a name to her.
"I will read your names," the woman announced, and Daphne found herself reminded of a bulldog's bark. "You will put on the hat. Once sorted you will go to the table of your house. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin." She indicated each table, a nice touch, Daphne thought. The Sorting was duller than usual in her opinion. The Hat had sung something short about the virtues of each house without any political meaning to it before the students were called upon one after the other.
Finally, the last of the children –Wolaszek, Mikhail, or something –had been sent his way to Slytherin. The stocky woman grabbed both the Hat and the chair and brought them off-stage. Professor Snape stepped to the front and looked through the hall.
"Welcome," he spoke, looking as if he disagreed with the statement, but his voice rang out clearly. "You may have heard that this school has been forced to undergo staffing changes as of late." His lips curled. "As a result, I have been appointed Headmaster." A groan rang out through the hall, coming from about half of the students. Professor Snape raised a challenging eyebrow. "Furthermore, Professor Burbage has chosen to follow her dream to write a book about the eccentricities of Muggles. Lending her expertise for the subject of Muggle Studies will therefore be Alecto Carrow." He pointed to the stocky woman, who bowed jerkily and took her seat at the table. "She will also serve as the Deputy Headmistress."
Daphne could see every teacher at the head table glaring at Professor Snape's back, but he continued already.
"To avoid missteps when dealing with Muggles, it was also deemed a necessary step to make the subject mandatory for all students." A murmur rose in the hall, and Professor Snape waited for a moment before he carried on. "The subject of Defence against the Dark Arts will be taught by Amycus Carrow." The scowling man rose from his seat and leered at the students. "Lastly," Professor Snape announced, "following an initiative from the Ministry of Magic, ghosts are now deemed unsuited to teach." This one caused applause from all tables, but Professor Snape glared at the students, and they fell silent. "Therefore, History of Magic will be taught by Narcissa Malfoy."
Daphne's eyes snapped to the head table, and sure enough, the woman rose to her feet and bowed gracefully. From her place, Daphne could see Draco failing to contain a smile.
Professor Snape spoke once more. "Students are still forbidden to enter the forest on the grounds unless ordered to otherwise. The list of banned items can be found outside Mr. Filch's office. That is all." He turned on the spot and walked to the Headmaster's chair.
"Didn't see that last one coming," Zabini said from across Daphne, bowing to get himself some chicken. "Then again, Draco did say things would be different around here."
"I don't like this," Tracey mumbled. "Why did they replace Binns? Not that I'd miss him, but he has been here for a while, why now?"
Zabini glanced around them and lowered his voice. "Students have to take it for five years. Switch all those hours hearing about goblin wars for lessons on the depravity of Muggles and you'd have a nice re-education. Or replace it with Wizarding Politics and talk for hours about the supremacy of magicals. It'll become a lot harder around here for those who aren't purebloods, that is for sure."
Daphne silently agreed with that logic. It did fit and meant at least three mandatory subjects firmly under the control of the Dark Lord. She looked over to Tracey, who looked understandably pale. While half-blood, she was still known for her pro-Muggle leanings which in the past had already marked her as one of the few Slytherins to take Muggle Studies of their own volition and an oddity. It also reminded Daphne that not everyone of her friends was better off after the Dark Lord's take-over. And whatever the Daily Prophet would claim to the contrary, she was smart enough to read the signs. For one, Rufus Scrimgeour had rather suddenly chosen to step down. Following his change of heart, he had dropped out of sight completely, and curious new regulations had been put in place.
The Dark Lord had won.
Getting rid of Binns is well worth having yet another supporter of the Dark Lord at Hogwarts. Voldemort definitely knows how to get people on his side.
