CHAPTER 11: A THOUGHTFUL HERO
The legend of the Hufflepuff thoughtfulness of the sweetest hero of Wizarding England had taken firm hold.
Their beloved Boy-Who-Lived was unfailingly kind, an exceedingly bright student, very thoughtful and concerned for the well being of everyone around him and eager to experiment and come up with innovative solutions that saved everyone including himself time, effort and resources. That he was so good, having lived ten horrid years as a slave for horrid muggles, only made everyone love him all the more.
The saccharine sweetness of the whole situation was more irksome to Harry than anything else, and a right riot, that tickled Neville, Susan and Daphne absolutely pink. The Harry they knew was kind and nice but he always couched his niceness in irascible teasing, cruddy jokes, and weird oddities of habits. If he did a good deed, it was always silently, unassumingly done and he would have been the last to acknowledge any assistance he would have rendered.
However this Harry advertised his goods liberally. Harry disliked this saccharine act but he knew the stakes and the fickle nature of public's affections. If he had been an eleven year old lost child, he wouldn't have courted the public so actively. But an adult perspective is drastically different from that of a child. This Harry, who hid behind a de-aging Glamour, understood the pros and cons of his situation far more clearly. It was a necessary evil, his unwanted celebrity status.
The grey foursome would often brainstorm for ideas to build upon his emerging star image, and ways to use it for wrangling more positive changes into these hallowed halls. The students mostly adored him. The teachers loved him. Only Snape and Quirrel had taken to observe him thoughtfully. Dumbledore had quit any attempt at subtlety and had taken to glaring in his direction every chance. The higher and stronger Harry Potter's legend rose in the public eye, the better it was for them, and more dreadful it was for the likes of Dumbledore.
On the flip side, unfortunately, Dumbledore's star had begun to wane. These days he struggled to hold on to his genial grandfatherliness. Nothing had been going right for more than a month now. Hagrid and Harry's first visit to his vaults at Gringotts had gotten the most unfortunate side effect of having all the Potter assets being recalled and locked up tighter than McGonagall's hair bun.
At least the boy still appeared to have his mail wards intact, which was a small mercy, from Dumbledore's point of view. So far, his free-handed handling of the boy's assets had yet to come to light. He instinctively knew that people wouldn't understand that the war wasn't over and it wasn't a cheap venture either.
The boy was fated to die and wouldn't need any of it. So what did it matter if it helped them all? If it all went to plan, the poor dear would die by the end of this year, leaving him the sole beneficiary in a fabricated will, with no one the wiser. But it was still months away. A more pressing problem were the Flamels.
They were unhappy with his one wee little fabrication. Since they wouldn't really give up their marvelous stone of elixirs, he had been forced to make up a wild tale to lure Voldemort and his henchman in. It was vital to his plan to make the two confront each other again. At the rate things were going so fast and so far downhill, he had better orchestrate a confrontation real soon.
Maybe he could do a test run on the coming Halloween? What began ten years ago could very well end soon on that very same date and he could call it a neatly wrapped case of poetic justice. He had to lay it a bit extra thick with Perenelle, blast that woman, since she kept harping about the vault keys until he confessed a wee part of his plan. He wasn't sure they had backed off entirely, but the blasted witch had agreed to hold off on going to the DMLE for now, small mercies.
And then the woman had to go pour water over his parade, tartly informing him that she had instructed the goblins to make a fresh set of keys and to destroy the old and lost ones. That had effectively killed any plans he had begun to form to finance his schemes.
Why was it that the ones who wanted to save the world ended up born poor and those who had more money than they could possibly need in ten lifetimes were always such skinflints, unwilling to share their good fortunes? The days like these were when he felt truly bamboozled by life. It rarely made any sense on such days.
He silently added both the Flamels to the swiftly growing kill list he kept secure inside his head. Something had to give. There was a bloody war brewing on the horizon and as the leader of the Light, he would need any and every weapon in any and every arsenal he could summon.
The Stone of Elixirs, Harry Potter's fortune, The Flamel Vaults, any and all of those books, enchanted artifacts, that marvelous cloak, the wand he had stolen from Charlus Potter, the pensieve which still had some of his more dubious memories floating within. All of it had been snatched out of his reach in the very night he had allowed the boy to visit his vault.
If he hadn't wanted to draw attention to the pensieve and those memories he'd left in there, he'd gladly raise a right proper stink and get his things back. Right now it was much safer not to court any attention in that area. And when the school had finally started, neither that Weasley kid nor that Granger chit had managed to get any closer than ten feet of the Potter brat. Even Hagrid had failed to woo the brat over to his side, entirely.
And look how messed up his plans were getting because those snot faced brats couldn't do their one single job properly?
Potter had discovered Longbottom heir and was getting way too chummy there for his comfort. It was the very last thing Albus had wanted. Where he had planned to plant the Weasley girl as the redhead for this generation of Potters, that Bones girl had taken over. Come to think of it, there were far too many girls and even some lovely boys sniffing around his weapon.. er ward.
It would be hard to maneuver around Sprout. For all her pretence at cheers and warm sunshine personality, she could be more stubborn than most folks he knew. She had always been far too cautious of him, far too critical and ever so excessively protective of her badgers, to top it off.
Any attempt to pry the boy out of her hands would only result in a high probability of severe hair loss in his beard, and an unnecessary and unhealthy amount of blood and gore, most probably his, lost to whatever masqueraded as plants in those blasted greenhouses of hers. It was always the quiet ones.
As if these woes were not quite enough, the stupid rat had jumped ship, from the look of things. So many of his plans were beginning to fail around him. He just couldn't take a risk and assign someone to trace and bring back the runaway rat. His carefully constructed castle of cards would unravel right bore his eyes.
At least he had continuous control over Minerva and Severus. That would have to do for now.
More than a month had passed, and rather delightfully too. Not much opportunity as Harry wished, to yank the old man's gonads about but enough to keep the school populace from assuming that Harry Potter was anything even remotely like a Dumbledore lackey.
Not that he actively sought to antagonize the old man, though; not yet anyway. But the Grey foursome engineered conversations as often as possible; conversation and activities so shamelessly spied upon by the rest of the prime gossipers at campus, in such a way that everyone no longer revered the old man especially for his role in Harry's miserable childhood.
Slowly and by, beginning with their children, the wizarding folk of England were beginning to question the decisions and roles and even words of their leaders and representatives. It warmed Harry to the curliest of his little toes to see them thinking.
It was now time to pull out their next ace. And it came with the morning Owl post deliveries. Which, thanks to the Badgers Grey putting forward the proposal before the Sett Parliament, was now being delivered to their Breakfast table by the elves. The concept of a student parliament was being set up, school wide.
There were rumors among the students from old families as well as some of the portraits, that there had once been a similar arrangement for a functioning student administrative body to supplement the teachers. It had been modified into the Prefect system but instead of being elected, the staff and the headmaster selected them exclusively based on academic merits.
On the fine, sunny morning of the October 21st, it wasn't just the slight nip in the air that ushered in Susan's very first birthday at Hogwarts. Each and every student and staff received an additional reading resource along with their Daily Prophet.
It had taken Harry and Luna more than three weeks to put it together and although no names were taken, they had anticipated the public opinion on this with equal parts dread and excitement. This fortnightly wasn't designed to imitate the Daily Prophet.
Instead it was a Student newspaper that claimed to be run by the students, and carried news designed for the students, with all contributor names withheld for privacy and security reasons, the editorial had boldly claimed.
The headlines of the very first edition were an editorial that simply highlighted the need for a student daily. The Front page also carried Wizengamot activities for the month, highlights of the latest bills waiting to be presented or being argued as well as a section dedicated to newest highlights in innovations in various fields, magical and muggle.
Inner pages were rather cleverly couched to detail on the topics highlighted in the front pages. Page two was all about school wide schedules. Page three was all about student parties and news.
Susan had wishes from all her friends posted there. Harry's message for her birthday, to his very first and dearest friend, seemed to be the highlighted were a lot of widespread giggles and blushes and speculative whispers when the students read Harry's funny little birthday Ditty. Susan hadn't reached that section yet, and remained oblivious to the whispers.
Page four was full of advertisements from various shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and two as far away as London and Gainsborough promoting their OWL service and their wares. That section came with cut out sections for mail order forms.
A central focus piece was the new store and upcoming designs by Ava Mikastori, and her new store.
On the surface the student paper seemed both educational and entertaining gossip on campus. But subtly inserted were warnings on how far the muggle world had progressed while magicals stagnated.
Also flagged were what their world's leaders were up to, which was most certainly not truly discussed in the mainstream media. The Student's gossip section cut past false information and rumors just as neatly as it undermined the administration-promoted division of student unity between houses.
A small feature article of less than 400 words highlighted the success of Maurice Ventrosi, the Ravenclaw seventh year in his lucky break; he had won an internship with 's, breaking record of no hire from last 8 years.
There was also a mention of a Canadian Quidditch Club announcing its plans to host summer camp for quidditch player wannabes still in school. Their OWL address had been included for enquiries.
Another small announcement included their upcoming articles lined up for the next edition to be released next weekend.
Susan reached as far as page three, saw her messages, squealed and turned to Harry and Neville, and proceeded to hug the stuffing out of them both while Daphne hid her face behind the napkins and tittered in amused silence. Both the boys then produced their messily wrapped gifts and pecked her cheeks and promptly passed her off to other friends and classmates waiting to wish them.
Around other house tables, Maurice was being heartily congratulated, and quidditch team members of all houses were gravitating towards the Gryfindor table, discussing a possibility of a school wide trip to Canada and quidditch training.
A little more than a month, and already the House divisions had begun to blur at the breakfast tables in the great hall, although the Gryfindor-Slytherin rivalry remained as active as ever. McGonagall happily noted that even the classes and corridors had begun to be less fraught and bound for fights.
She wondered who had organized the newspaper; none of the students had come seeking permission.
Flitwick archly replied to that somewhat sharply; quoting the Hogwarts charter that Student Entertainment activities, so long as no curfew was broken and no school resources were abused, was entirely up to the students and did not really demand permission per say.
Sprout was quick to point out that especially in her house, muggle born students often organized and played muggle sports on campus and had never really required permission. Student Newspaper was just another muggle practice. They just got a wee bit ahead of the norm and involved the entire student body.
She personally applauded their spirit and camaraderie in including everyone, house rivalries bedammed. Her badgers had always had an in-house weekly magazine of sorts, put up in the notice board, and organized and produced by the students. This just went beyond the limited stage of Common rooms and dorms to include the whole school.
Even Snape was reading the articles with avid attention, and seemed to have nothing caustic to add.
Dumbledore mentally shredded the parchment, struggling to maintain his genial smile. Others may not have seen the dangers of this small student entertainment, as Flitwick so eloquently and glibly summed it. But it was clear as veritaserum to him.
The students in Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables were still at the international news sections. He'd bet his best ermine cape and socks that it was the muggle news which was holding their attentions and engaging their discussions.
Albus Dumbledore had gone to great lengths for more than half a century, to downplay the state of affairs that side of the Leaky Cauldron with good cause. Most muggle news he read about only promised violence and viciousness; if the wizards continued to fear the muggles then his ages old dream to merge the two worlds and rule over them all would be washed away with the first snow.
It had taken him decades to get to the point where muggles were cute at best and unwashed bodies at worst. This was beyond the scope of the likes of Charity Burbage; that witch had her head in the clouds and actually believed his propaganda and actively advocated exploring the muggle world and learning about them like they were a different culture or country.
And damage control at this scale would be near impossible; there were far too many muggle born students to clarify the realities to ignorant pure-bloods and they were now being championed by the Boy Who Lived. It would be impossible to keep this from the parents and the Prophet.
The Gargoyle read his mood aptly and swiftly leapt out of his way as he stormed up to his tower, scanning about for possible ways to right this mess and twist it all to his advantage.