Chapter 35 – Those Problems Solved, But We Still Need Help

Continued Extension of Prosecutor Longbottom's Notes – 12 October 2013 (An author needs at least a little suspense from time to time)

Reginald! I'm certain he was the baddie in charge, who directed the students and facilitated their movements. I need to prove it. He almost certainly drank the Draught himself. That settles a major question: "How do you force an experienced auror to drink an unknown potion. He could have recognised it. Could have had a wand at his head, with a promised AK if he failed to swallow. Time to revive old Reg and learn the truth. From what Harry and Rose said, Auror Peters also bears talking to.

I must play this more conservatively. I gambled, and just barely won, with the two Dumbledore's. If they had dithered even another hour, it would have been too late to detect the Liar's Milk. The Milk plus their run through the rear door were enough strong evidence to get their confessions. I don't think just one would have gotten them.

I sent a Stone message to all to gently apprehend Peters, but with the warning that I think him to be the extremely dangerous ringleader of all of this.

And, noticing Mandrake on the list of potions ingredients that was stolen, I really stuck my neck out and messaged that I thought one objective of the theft and explosion was to eliminate the available supply of Mandrake. Perhaps some Ministry employees could try to buy up the Mandrake on sale in Diagon Alley, just so we were sure to have some. Was poor Neville about to be confronted by a Basilisk problem. I messaged that just to him. He messaged back "I'M GRIEVING, BOTH FOR MY SCHOOL AND FOR SOME VERY IMPORTANT RESEARCH THAT PROFESSOR SPROUT AND I HAVE SPEND MANY YEARS WORKING ON. WE'VE JOINTLY WORKED ON IMPROVING MANDRAKES AND THE POTIONS THAT CAN BE MADE FROM THEM FOR OVER TWELVE YEARS. THAT'S A LARGE PART OF OUR PRODUCTIVE LIVES. PROFESSOR SPROUT WAS EVEN WORKING ON A NEW POTION WHICH SHE BELIEVED SHOWED PROMISE AT EXTENDING LIFETIMES. WE HAD ALMOST THREE DOZEN OF THE SPECIAL MANDRAKES IN THAT GREENHOUSE, ALONG WITH THE NINETY SLIGHTLY SPECIAL ONES FOR THE STUDENT PROJECTS AND TEACHING. I THANK THE LIGHT GUARDIAN THAT WE HAD A DOZEN OF THE BEST MANDRAKES IN OUR PRIVATE LAB FOR A NEW TEST. ITS EVEN WORSE WITH THE ASPHODELS. WE'VE BEEN IMPROVING THEM FOR TEN YEARS. WE HAD FORTY OF OUR SECOND-BEST GENERATION AND TWENTY OF OUR BEST. ALL BUT SIX OF THE BEST WERE IN THAT GREENHOUSE. AFTER THE AURORS HAVE FINISHED THEIR INVESTIGATION, PROFESSOR SPROUT AND I ARE GOING TO SEARCH WHATS LEFT OF THE GREENHOUSE FOR ANY SURVIVING SPECIAL PLANTS. I'M ALSO HURT THAT TWO DUMBLEDORE STUDENTS, WHOM I LIKED A LOT AND WENT OUT OF MY WAY TO GIVE A GOOD START AT HOGWARTS, HAVE TURNED AGAINST THEIR SCHOOL. I CONFESS, MUM, I CRIED THIS AFTERNOON. I'M FEELING THAT BAD ABOUT ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED."

I'm sure the two students in question came to Hogwarts to lead the plot. One had a ring, which I think is a Keeper ring. Such a ring would be needed to open the back door from that common room. I'll ask Ginny about it. I tested it surreptitiously and it does work. Only Harry and I know for now.

Break

From the Journal of Rose Weasley - 12 October 2013

The morning papers took my mind away from yesterday's devastation, as well as my food. The opposition had accepted Mum's proposal that everyone in the government must stand for election in two weeks. The Wizengamot would vote this afternoon to make it official. The Prophet had a lot of quotes from Mrs. Parkinson trying to explain why Mum wasn't qualified to be Minister and why our very survival as a magical people depended upon chucking her out of office. "She's still just a filthy Mudblood. I can't be loyal to a Mudblood leader. The thought chills my blood... We had a great culture, the best in the history of Wizardom - so genteel, so rich with camaraderie among the Elf-owning Witches. Our children are being stripped away from the Church of England, our ultimate source of morality. My Pansy is lost to me. She's gone pagan. I've looked forward to spending eternity with my children and grandchildren in heaven. Pansy has left the faith. She's raising her young daughter as a heathen. I'll be in heaven; they'll be in Hell. What kind of future is that for a mother? Don't we deserve a Minister for whom acknowledging our superiority to Elves, Goblins, Centaurs, Unicorns, talking spiders, and nonmagical humans comes naturally? Mudblood Hermione can't bring herself to say the words, even though their absence dooms her to political defeat. She has no pride in the culture of the British Wizarding world. We have our pride. Where is her pride. She seems happier with the views of the Continental Wizards and Professor Firenze. I will not be considered the equal of a talking spider. I won't just lie back and mould away, while my whole culture is gutted. What was the purpose of my life if I just allow that to happen? What was the purpose of the lives of all the good, traditional Witches and Wizards? The new circles that our supposed new religious leader Ginny felt the need to turn on or strengthen are destroying us. The new circles must be destroyed. They have led to a flood of newly magicals who don't understand the beauty of our culture and refuse to adopt it. They vote for our Mudblood government. It isn't fair. I feel as though I am being replaced. I'm not alone in believing my child was stolen from me. I talk to many parents who can't understand why their sons won't work the farm their family has worked for generations; can't understand why their daughters take a Ministry or other job, instead of marrying the Wizard picked by their fathers. The old ways are dying. Please join me in saving them, before all is lost. My life hasn't been the same since our owned-Elf was stolen. Give Elf ownership a proper chance. If my party wins, hundreds of Witches will be able to enjoy the life which I once enjoyed. The old culture CAN return, stronger than ever. There are more Elves than ever. We need to go to war with them, once again, to re-establish our ownership. Many more mothers can have an Elf helper. Be brave! Our fight is worth it."

Wow! I now know exactly what I'm fighting for: the preservation of fifteen years of progress and my very independence. That was one whack Witch.

Headmaster Longbottom spoke to us, once again, at the end of breakfast. There would be no herbology instruction, as such, for the next two weeks, He encouraged students who wished to volunteer, to assist himself and Professor Sprout in scrounging any surviving plants from the wreckage of the greenhouse. For those interested, the hunt would begin right after breakfast. Morning classes were canceled. He'd let us know about afternoon classes at lunchtime.

Alexander Panshin and Marshall Smith had been caught. They didn't have the stolen potions or ingredients in their possession. They had become trapped in the inner Hogwarts, beyond the Dumbledore rear door. Yes, he supposed he really ought to explain about the inner Hogwarts. Students who had been to the art museum had seen a little bit of it. He promised us a fuller explanation and tour. Please give him a few days to make that happen.

Break

From the Journal of Freddie James Potter 12 October 2013

We all volunteered to help Uncle Neville. I had never seen him in such obvious need of support. Professor Sprout was consoling him. I also craved some action. I wasn't wound down from yesterday's excitement and terror. I told those at table that we just had to help Uncle Neville. I didn't know exactly why, but I knew that to be true.

As I was preparing to stand and lead our House out onto the grounds, Iona came up beside my chair and kissed me on the cheek. "You're a good person, Freddie." She was gone before I could react. In fact, she led the Gryffindors out onto the lawn and down to the edge of the area where the explosion had hurled parts of the greenhouse and its contents. There were a couple of aurors guarding the area, but the British and Ministry investigators had left. I had recognised Aunt Ellie as one of the Ministry experts, who were examining what was left of the greenhouse.

Dad walked up to us and advised: "Please wait here for your headmaster. We checked the area closely yesterday, but it is possible that we missed something. I did see some plants last night, so there is hope for your search. These two aurors and I will search with you. It's possible you will find something that we missed. If you see anything that looks significant or out of place, please don't touch it. Call me or one of these aurors and we'll bag it up for closer examination. I want to thank you all for volunteering to help Neville. It's important - he's been through a lot this term. The number of plants you rescue will determine what sort of herbology experience you have for the rest of the year. Ah here he comes, and he has a lot more helpers."

It looked like a third of the school had turned out to help Uncle Neville. I could see why they arrived after us. Some of the upper levels levitated barrels of water, other barrels of Uncle Neville's own planting compost. Two fourth years levitated several dozen stacked large re-potting pots each. "I'm being an optimist," the headmaster announced. "If we find living plants, I intend that we will save them. I'm told we can move forward in this lane between the aurors, up to the foundation of the greenhouse. This is the entry path the investigators used yesterday. Probably no clues, but they weren't looking for plants. We'll stop at the greenhouse wall. A few more worthies will be joining us. Sing out if you spot a plant that you think might survive."

One advantage of my early arrival was that I was in the front row and could see what was going on as we marched forward in two rows, almost shoulder to shoulder and spanning the whole length of the greenhouse. I would have first inspection and whomever was in the row behind me would check that I missed nothing. Mainly, they would see my back and robed tail-feathers. That wasn't true, the second row was mainly upper levels, who were at least a foot taller than me. We were to use our wands to move litter out of the way. Mum had taught me a spell to blow a stream of air out of the end of my wand. When we started out, Elvis was on my left and Iona on my right - I don't know quite how she managed that. She chattered about things that she might see ahead of us on the ground. One was a cigarette butt, a commercial one - not something a Wizard would smoke. I told her to bag it. Someone to my left called out "I've found a fairly healthy Devil's Snare plant!"

Uncle Neville grabbed a pot and he and his water and compost bearers trotted up to the Witch who spotted the plant. "We'll just quickly pot this up and place it in the deep shade of that cluster of conifers. As you know, the Snare hates direct sunlight. Good catch! This guy would have been dead by lunchtime. One of the upper levels was transporting the Snare into the shade, when I heard the improbable cry from my other side: "I've found a wounded Aubergine plant."

"I would have thought last night was cold enough to kill it, you know it sometimes takes a few hours in the sun until they actually look dead, for certain. I guess it's worth the effort to pot it up," Neville allowed.

"The British investigators brought a lot of very bright lights last night," Dad told Neville. "Perhaps that was enough to allow that plant to survive."

I realised that Dad had squeezed in between Iona and me.

"Ron and Director Shacklebolt are back," Dad told me. "We'll wait for them to cross the wall into the greenhouse. Mrs. Toms and one of her agents were with them and will also be joining us. I expected your Aunt Ellie by now."

The only other plant we found, before reaching the wall, was a small fern. Uncle Neville seemed thrilled to see it again. It joined the Snare under the conifers."

We couldn't do anything besides waiting. The remaining bit of greenhouse wall and an area almost four feet wide inside the wall had been stripped bare. "We expected the wall to collect some of the debris from the explosion," Dad explained. "We found some but are missing key bomb parts. The more parts we can find, the easier to prove who bombed the greenhouse and who supplied them with the bomb. We already have one huge clue: the British investigators have been able to determine that the explosive in the bomb was incredibly old plastic explosive. It matches the explosives that the former Lord Montaigne tried to use to blow up the Sacred Cavern."

That was significant.

Aunt Ellie arrived with her assistant and headed straight for Dad.

Uncle Ron, Director Shacklebolt, Mrs. Toms, and what I assumed to be two of her agents, arrived moments later. They also headed straight for Dad. Mrs. Toms was limping and steadying herself with a tall, carved wooden cane. It looked like something an ancient Witch priestess would choose to use. Noticing my stare, she commented "not old age, I merely twisted a knee. We visited some rough areas of the East. Even went to Giant country. The good news is that I'm very sure your opponents won't be recruiting any more fighters from the East. We told the Easterners that they were betrayed. We returned their dead to them. We all told them that signing up to kill our children for pay would not be tolerated. We were willing to help them. We knew they were close to starving. My government has stores of their local currency. We shared with them. They will try to capture the recruiters is they return.

By this point, I was standing next to Dad, along with the others. I heard Uncle Ron tell Dad '... of course, I'm sure. I know how serious this is. The recruiters were Barnabas Cuffe, Mr. Tsieh, and an auror named Reginald Whiting."

"I believe you, Ron. In fact, we've caught Reginald out here at Hogwarts. He's asleep, from what I'm certain is a self-administered Draught of the Living Death."

Break

From the Journal of Iona Sparks - 12 October 2013

I did it! I found the most important missing piece of the bomb that destroyed the Greenhouse. I think Freddie was impressed by my cleverness. I was a little more the center of attention than I like to be, but I'm getting more used to that.

Our job, once we could enter the greenhouse, was to examine any plants still in their pots and identify those that might be saved. Headmaster Longbottom told us, "Daylilies, the student Mandrakes, and and the asphodels are at this end of the greenhouse. Since Daylilies and Mandrakes grow from deep tubers, they may have survived if top foliage was destroyed by an intense, but very brief, explosion-driven surge of heat and fire. The asphodels grow from bulbs. If the bulbs have sufficient energy, they can also be saved, but they need cold before they will sprout. I know my classes watered these pots the day before the explosion, so that might give extra protection. If you see any green at all, just at the soil line, sing out and we'll check them out and re-pot."

After Mrs. Toms and the others arrived, aurors Apparated big metal bins just outside the greenhouse. Headmaster Longbottom had them labeled but told us anyway "everything you find must go. We're clearing down to the sand. Possibly still living plants to me, this bin for greenhouse glass, this one for wood, this one for clay pot fragments, this one for dead plants, soil, and compost. These third- and fourth levels will help you clear the debris. Keep moving along. We need to work fast. There are important missing bomb parts, and, from my personal desires, the most important plants are at the far end of the greenhouse. Thank you, everyone - to work!" He clapped his hands twice as he said that.

We found a lot of plants that might be save, perhaps almost half of what had been here. Our headmaster blessed three quarters of those we gave him as suitable for repotting. He had several dozen upper levels assisting him, so he moved extremely fast. The repotted plants were moved to the larger greenhouse, where food for the school is grown. Uncle Neville was grateful to find two healthy asphodel bulbs, which had enough green showing above the bulb to spring right back into growth. Professor Sprout explained in an aside to Uncle Harry "asphodel is a necessary ingredient to the counter potion to Draught of the Living Death. My supply was destroyed in the robbery. We could find asphodels in the nonmagical world, but they wouldn't be nearly as effective as the specially bred Hogwarts variety.

I worked for several hours. We were coming to the end of the student Mandrakes, when I picked up a shattered pot, which was bleeding red sap. I told Freddie "look, not only do the Mandrakes scream like infants, but they also bleed. Doesn't this look just like blood? Look at the hole, it looks like this one has been shot. It's dead. I think I see the metal that it was shot with... silvery."

I must have spoken loudly in my excitement because Harry Potter was standing beside me, asking if he could examine my Mandrake. Of course, he could. He took out his pocketknife and carefully enlarged the hole, finally vocalising "Accio metal!" Not a bullet, not a fragment of metal, but a tiny piece of organised equipment lay in his hand.

"I've got it!" Harry yelled. Before he turned to leave, he patted me on the back, saying loudly enough for anyone at all close to us to hear: "thank you, Iona, that was very well done. You have a good eye."