Chapter 37
Harry's little joke turned out to be all too accurate. Dobby the house elf, as energetically deprecating as ever, popped into Draco and Hermione's common room at precisely 5:30 a.m. to alert them to Dumbledore's summons.
Bleary eyed and yawning, Hermione opened the bedroom door to the funny little caricature of an elf, who, having knocked, was now frantically bouncing up and down with characteristic overexcitement.
"Dobby!" Hermione cried, squinting at him in response to the light hitting her sleep sensitive eyes.
"Yes, Miss!" Dobby squeaked, as he bowed low. "The Headmaster has sent me. He wishes to see you and Mr. Draco right away!"
Dobby's eyes were more protuberant than usual, so great was his agitation.
Hermione was wide awake now, her face resolutely determined.
"Right," she said. "Thank you, Dobby. Have you spoken to Harry yet?"
Dobby nodded emphatically.
"Oh, yes, Miss. Harry Potter has been informed." he said, a broad toothy smile spreading over his wrinkled face.
"Good," Hermione praised. "You may go and tell Dumbledore we're on our way."
Dobby bowed once more, snapped his fingers and disappeared.
Hermione did not have to wake Draco. He was all ready up and dressing hurriedly.
"It's time," he said, slipping on his robe in one smooth motion.
It was not a question.
"Yes," Hermione answered, grabbing her own clothes and throwing them on.
A quarter of an hour later, Draco and Hermione found themselves knocking at Dumbledore's great oak office door. Their Headmaster's customary response of 'come' was heard over several softly muttering voices. So, the two were not surprised to see the warm and cheerful room filled to capacity upon their entrance.
Sitting at his desk, as usual, was Dumbledore, wearing deep green robes, a large tea service and a plate of luscious looking rolls before him. Behind him, looking grave but purposeful stood the darkly clothed Professor Snape and the tartan clad Professor McGonagall. Seated beside the wise old wizard was the impressive figure of the Minister of Magic himself, Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, his tawny leonine mane of hair highlighted by the flickering of the firelight. His "official" appearance was furthered by his fashionably cut royal blue robes, but seemed incongruously separate from his craggy, battle scarred face, and quick, amber, cat like eyes.
As Hermione's and Draco's eyes took in the rest of the room's inhabitants, they noted that Harry and Ron had all ready arrived, along with Ginny. Arthur and Molly Weasley were also present, seated behind Harry, Ron, and Ginny, looking somewhat rumpled, as though they had come in a great hurry.
Silent greetings, in the form of nods and subdued waves, were exchanged between the newcomers and those who were all ready in place, and Draco and Hermione took two comfortable chairs reserved for them beside Harry, and just before Professor Dumbledore's laden desk.
Dumbledore stood up gracefully, straightening his robes as he did so, and smiling around the room cordially.
"Good morning," he began, his voice weary but strong. "I think we will begin our meeting now. Please feel free to avail yourselves of the tea and rolls at any time," he said indicating with his hands, the food and drink before him.
As no one moved to fill a plate, he continued, not missing a beat.
Turning slightly, he inclined his head respectfully toward Minister Scrimgeour.
"I am pleased to say that Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, the Honorable Minister of Magic, has consented to be with us this morning, and will be addressing us shortly."
Mr. Scrimgeour, obviously pleased by Dumbledore's flattering introduction, stood and bowed officiously to all in the room and with a flourish of his robes sat back down.
The niceties having been observed, Dumbledore assumed a businesslike demeanor, placing the tips of his long fingers on his desk top and leaning on them gently.
"As you all are aware, tomorrow morning Lord Voldemort is planning to send out his Death Eaters to attack at Kings Cross Station. We are gathered to finalize our own plans to counterattack."
Everyone nodded. Not one person in the audience was not giving Dumbledore his or her absolute attention.
"Last night, the Minister and I met along with Professors Snape and McGonagall, to discuss the influx of information each of us has been privy to, and to decide what to do in response."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, clearing his throat.
"Here is what we know or have surmised at this hour. The attack is to take place at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning…just the time of day when the station would likely be filled to capacity with commuters, and those taking long day trips, requiring an early start. We expect there to be thousands of unsuspecting muggles, as well as some wizards to be present. So, these Dark Wizards will have plenty of targets on which to focus. They have been exhorted by the Dark Lord to wreak as much havoc, and do as much damage as they possibly can. They are to show no mercy and to drive the death toll up as high as possible."
Hermione's eyes filled, as she thought of the many innocent children who might be there, as well. Mrs. Weasley gasped, her face blanching, as her husband shook his head gravely and mopped his face with a handkerchief. Harry and Ron only stared resolutely at the floor.
Dumbledore gave his audience a moment to reign in their reactions before pressing on.
"I can see that I needn't impress upon any of you the seriousness of this situation," he continued, eyeing them all pointedly. "It becomes even more serious when we take into account that our informants have estimated that their will be between 200 and 225 Death Eaters conducting this attack."
Again, the group reacted with shocked gasps and terrified faces.
"Good heavens!" Arthur Weasley piped up, standing up in his extreme agitation. "That many? Are you sure, Dumbledore? That implies that this will be a massive attack…an open show of power…unlike last year with the collapsing bridge and the hurricane!"
Dumbledore, seemingly unfazed by Mr. Weasley's outburst, turned his full attention on the distraught wizard.
"Those are the numbers we've been given, Arthur. And you are right, we are talking about a very open show of power," he countered quietly.
He turned back to the rest of the group to continue.
"Unfortunately, the Ministry cannot match those numbers at this time, without disrupting other important work. Many aurors are out on special assignment and cannot be pulled out to help without compromising some very key missions. And, even with the addition of available Order members, our side still comes up somewhat short of the requisite number. So…"
The Headmaster turned now to behold Harry, Ron, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny with serious eyes.
"…Minister Scrimgeour has agreed that we must ask the organization called Dumbledore's Army to join in the fray."
Harry did not even look at his comrades as he stood up, knowing that they had all purposed in their hearts to do all they could to stop Lord Voldemort in his wicked pursuits.
"We'll be happy to help," he said unflinchingly.
Dumbledore nodded and smiled gratefully.
"Good. And I thank you all on behalf of myself, the Order, and the Ministry," he said, beaming, as he looked to Minister Scrimgeour for his reaction.
Scrimgeour stood smilingly and shook Harry's hand zealously, after which they both sat down, giving Dumbledore the floor once more.
"Minister Scrimgeour and I have decided that only those members of the D.A. who are 16 years of age and older should join us. So, I would like the four of you to come up with a list of possible trustworthy and capable candidates you can approach with the offer of fighting with us."
Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione nodded agreeably.
"You will need to choose wisely and quickly, for time is obviously of the essence. All those agreeing to join us will be excused from classes today in order to prepare."
At this point, the Headmaster turned to Harry again.
"Harry," Dumbledore fixed his eyes on his protégé.
"Yes, Sir," Harry answered, jumping up again.
"I suggest you call a meeting in the Room of Requirement as soon as possible, and run the D.A. through all the spells and curses you know they've all ready mastered. Teach them very little that is new." he admonished. "We do not want people trying to perfect new spells on the battlefield. It's too dangerous."
"Yes, Sir," Harry agreed.
"And, speaking of spells and the use thereof," Dumbledore said, turning once more to the Minister. "Mr. Scrimgeour would like to go over the rules of engagement for tomorrow's battle…Minister?"
Dumbledore stepped aside, giving the Minister center stage.
Minister Scrimgeour stood up, and took his place before the desk, setting his face in very austere lines as he did so.
"Ladies in Gentlemen," he began in a deep, gravelly voice, and with an almost courtly bow. "I am most pleased that all of you have decided to come to the aid of the Ministry, and, indeed, of all the Wizarding community itself," he began, doing his best to catch the eye of everyone in the room. "I, too, wish to thank you ahead of time for your excellent service and assure you that the Ministry will forever be in your debt, no matter how everything turns out tomorrow."
The room was absolutely silent for a beat before the minister continued.
"I know you all understand that the Enemy will not spare any tactic to win this battle decisively. As you have heard, Voldemort has commanded his Death Eaters to show absolutely no mercy. He has trained them to be absolutely ruthless, and has instilled in them a fear of consequences should they not give him the results he expects of them."
Scrimgeour paused, nervously clearing his throat.
"In short, we are facing an Enemy that will not go down easily. There will be heinous acts committed at Kings Cross tomorrow…there can be no doubt. Therefore, it is my decision and my command that everyone who steps out onto the battlefield tomorrow morning be prepared to use whatever means necessary to protect themselves and those other innocents who are nearby at any given moment."
The Minister looked around the room, his countenance determined.
"I am authorizing all who participate in the routing of the Death Eaters at the Station to use any and all curses and spells that will aid in this venture, up to and including the Killing Curse." he said, his voice rising with passion.
The reaction around the room was one of incredulity. Everyone began talking at once in high, exited voices.
Scrimgeour raised his hands for quiet.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you please," he interrupted. "You cannot be surprised by this announcement, surely! You have all heard what we will face. I assure you there is no other way for us to level the playing field, if you'll excuse the expression."
Draco and Hermione looked at each other disbelievingly, and then caught the gaze of their Headmaster, who nodded at them solemnly, confirming his agreement with the Minister. Snape and McGonagall, too, were nodding their approval at this turn of events.
It was clear that the others in the room had seen Dumbledore's subtle concurring reaction, too, for everyone began to settle down again, as Scrimgeour waited patiently.
"Friends," the Minister began again in low tones, "we must remember this is war. Unfortunately, war means death and destruction to many, many innocent people. We must use every means given us to minimize that toll."
Harry was staring at Scrimgeour's shoes, jaw set, nodding his agreement.
Scrimgeour eyed the group for a moment, looking for all the world as though he might explode.
"You must settle it in your minds and hearts right now that you will kill if circumstances warrant it. For, the Killing Curse is only effective if the caster is fully persuaded about that."
At this, the Minister's visage became very earnest, indeed.
"Let yourselves be convinced that you are fighting for the best possible cause."
He pointed at the crowd impressively.
"Know this, and let righteous anger rise up in your very hearts!"
The Minister paused again, his face reddened, hands shaking slightly.
"You are fighting for no less than the rightful freedom of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Do not let that fact escape you for one moment! Today, as you prepare, think on what the world would be like were Voldemort able to crush his resistance and come to full power over all. For, mark my words, he will settle for nothing less!"
All eyes were glued to the intense face of the Minister. No one dared make a sound.
"Think on it," he said, lowering his voice to almost a tortured whisper. "and I know you will find that you no longer have any qualms about using the Killing Curse or any other spell necessary to keep that evil despot from achieving his ends."
The room was so quiet; it ran shivers down Hermione's spine. It was clear everyone was wholly engrossed in contemplating the Minister's provocative and fiery speech.
After a few minutes silence, Dumbledore stepped forward again, as Minister Scrimgeour retreated quietly back to his seat.
Without a word, the Professor, holding the book of maps containing the Kings Cross Stations lay out, before him, tapped the appropriate pages with his wand. Immediately, several copies materialized on top of the book.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, carefully lifting the maps off his book and handing them to him, "I wish for you and your friends to distribute these to those you choose to join us. You will find that I have marked the strategic hiding places that must be occupied by our people. You will note, further, that some of the spots all ready have names on them. You will decide which of the D.A. members will occupy the spots marked 'D.A.', and place the names appropriately. If you find you do not have enough members for all the spots, leave them blank. When you return a copy of the filled in map to me, I will peruse it and try to fill the rest of it in before tomorrow. All right?"
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, taking the maps and handing them over to Hermione.
Hermione quickly put on her reading glasses and began studying the parchments right away.
"Now," Dumbledore said, addressing all of his students, "I suggest you all begin recruiting members as soon as possible. You'll want as much practice time as you can get."
He strode, at this point, over to Arthur and Molly Weasley with his maps and handed them several.
"These will give you the Order members' positions, as well. I assume you can get them to the appropriate people?"
"We will start now," Mrs. Weasley said, putting the maps in her carry all, and straightening up to go.
Dumbledore left them with a smile of appreciation.
As Minister Scrimgeour and the Weasley's headed to the fire place to avail themselves of the canister of floo powder on the mantle, Professor Dumbledore headed over to Draco and Hermione purposefully.
"Can you wait for a moment after everyone has gone? I've something to discuss with you," he whispered.
"Of course," Draco said, wonder in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were heading to the door. Harry turned to Hermione and Draco with a questioning look.
"Are you coming?"
"Professor Dumbledore wants to speak to us," Hermione said lightly. "You go on ahead to the Great Hall and begin compiling a list of candidates. Draco and I will be there soon."
"All right," Harry acquiesced with a smile. "See you later, then."
Ginny waved, Ron scowled, and the three headed out the door.
Soon, there were only the three professors, Draco, and Hermione left in the room. Draco noted vaguely that the tea tray had not been touched, nor the buns either, as he retook his seat. Hermione sat down beside him, and both of them waited to hear what Professor Dumbledore had to say.
Dumbledore, having just seen off the Minister of Magic, lowered himself wearily into his large plush desk chair with a sigh. Professors Snape and McGonagall still stood behind him, as if they were playing Lieutenants to his General.
"I feel I am getting too old for all this hub bub," he joked, looking tired.
Then he turned an appraising gaze on his Head Boy and Girl.
"Draco…Hermione," he said, his face giving nothing away. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"Yes, Sir?" the two responded, their nervousness evident.
Then the professor turned his gaze on Draco, who immediately sensed he wasn't going to like what Dumbledore had to say.
"Draco, Minister Scrimgeour and I have been talking about how to maintain proper security at the Ministry while almost every Auror is at Kings Cross tomorrow…and we've made a decision, which concerns you."
Draco maintained a placid expression, but inside he was instantly fearful. Surely Dumbledore wasn't about to really ask him to…
Dumbledore read in Draco's eyes his consternation.
"Yes, we have decided that you, along with Professor Snape, will stand guard at the Ministry tomorrow."
Draco jumped out of his chair.
"But, Sir!" he began, in angry protest.
Dumbledore only raised his hand, apparently unperturbed.
"Believe me, Draco, it's best this way. Both you and Professor Snape are working for the Order as double agents. Any information you may be able to get while operating in that capacity could be invaluable to bringing the Dark Lord down. We do not wish to jeopardize that, do we?"
Dumbledore was regarding his Head Boy over the rims of his glasses now, a light, but no nonsense smile on his face.
"No, Sir," Draco answered miserably.
He chanced a look at Hermione, whose face was sympathetic but set.
Dumbledore who had seen the look that passed between them, looked sympathetic, too.
"Draco," he said softly," I know you would much rather go to battle along side Hermione…"
Draco gave the Headmaster a small melancholy nod and lowered his slightly rebellious gaze.
"That is completely understandable, but this type of thing is also a part of war."
Professor Dumbledore sought to lock his eyes with Draco's, and finally Draco could avoid his gaze no longer. He looked up.
"Sacrifices must be made," the professor said, emphasizing every word.
Draco fought not to look down.
"…for the good of all."
For a fraction of a moment, Professor Dumbledore and Draco stared at one another---Dumbledore's face, the picture of quiet resolve…and Draco's, full of internal struggle.
He knew Dumbledore was right, from a tactical sense. But, in his heart, he honestly didn't know how he was going to let Hermione go to Kings Cross without him.
Just then, Hermione reached across and took Draco's hand to squeeze it comfortingly. Slowly, he turned to her. He saw in her eyes a firm resolve. In that moment, he knew she agreed with Dumbledore.
"It's all right, Draco," she whispered, her voice gently convincing. "It's best. You know it is."
Draco felt a flash of anger at this inevitability. His eyes mirrored his emotions for a split second and then, fast on anger's heels, came quiet, peaceful resignation to duty.
He smiled a small smile at Hermione and returned her hand squeeze, before turning back to Dumbledore.
"Yes, Sir," he said, his voice strong. "I will be happy to go to the Ministry with Professor Snape, if you believe it the best plan."
Dumbledore's smile was almost beatific. He approached Draco and Hermione and laid a long, gentle hand on each of their shoulders firmly.
"That is good news," he said, relief in his voice, thanks in his eyes.
He turned to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, still smiling. McGonagall beamed happily. But, Snape looked disinterested, even bored, as he addressed Draco.
"I will come to your rooms at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow to collect you, Draco," he said smoothly. "Be ready."
Without waiting for Draco's assent, he turned once more to Professor Dumbledore.
"If there's nothing else, Professor…" he said coldly.
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore replied, ignoring Snape's less than friendly manner," I think we are finished here."
Snape inclined his head in an outward show of respect that did not reach his sour visage. Then, he quit the room at top speed, with his usual cloud of black robes streaking behind him.
Professor McGonagall could not completely suppress the urge to roll her eyes.
Dumbledore's smile never left his venerable old face. He seemed completely undisturbed by Snape's sudden exit. But, Draco and Hermione were left wondering if the potions master ever left a room in a less dramatic manner.
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling merrily, as if he had read their minds.
"I think Harry is waiting for you," he hinted broadly.
"Yes, Professor," the two said, as they bolted from their seats.
And with a nod to Professor McGonagall, which she returned curtly, they were out the door themselves.
The next moment, Draco and Hermione were headed down the cork screw stairwell. They moved as quickly as they could; taking the steps two at a time. There was a sense of urgency growing in each of them. They did not speak of what had just passed in Dumbledore's office. All their focus was upon preparation. Time was of the essence, and it was slipping away at a fast and furious pace.
Tomorrow morning was fraught with destiny, either for good or ill. And it would be here before they knew it.