Chapter 32 – Cornelius Fudge

Only a Slytherin could have taken the diary. The thief would have needed a password to access the common room and the dormitories beyond. Granger and Longbottom had successfully infiltrated the common room once before, but they weren't likely to make a second attempt. After all, they were Harry's friends now, and could have no reason to sneak back into the common room when they could simply ask Harry for information.

He briefly considered the possibility of another spy, but this too seemed unlikely. Snape had been changing the password with greater frequency as an extra precaution. And Granger was the only witch in school clever enough to concoct the polyjuice potion, so Harry was confident that no one had used this method of deception. The thief had to have come from within.

After ruling out outside interference, he had only to look at the usual suspects. There were only a handful of people who knew about the diary. Blaise had been pulled from school, Millie wanted nothing to do with the diary, and Granger and Longbottom were already out of the question. Unless of one them talked, and Harry sincerely doubted that they had, then the only remaining possibility was that someone else had observed Harry looking through the diary, and taken it.

The solution was obvious. It had to be Draco. He and Harry shared the same dorm, and he had every reason to want to spite Harry. Perhaps he thought it was Harry's own diary he stole, and was at that moment disappointed to see blank pages instead of Harry's most intimate secrets. How long would it before he tested the diary for himself, and discover the memories Tom Riddle had hidden within?

Harry did not want to think of the repercussions that would follow if Draco learned of Hagrid's past. The letters he received from Blaise informed him of Mrs. Zabini's wrath. She had sent several angry messages to Lucius Malfoy, demanding that he and the other school governors do something about the current state of Hogwarts. He was grateful that he never shared Hagrid's secret with Blaise, certain he would have said something to his mother. But with Mrs. Zabini already breathing down his neck, Mr. Malfoy would waste no time in having Hagrid arrested if his son told him the gamekeeper was the one responsible.

Harry didn't want to confront Draco directly. Instead, he kept a watchful eye on him, searching for any hint that Draco was hiding something.

With this thought in mind, he stalked Draco down to the Quidditch pitch on Saturday morning. It was far too late in the season for Gryffindor versus Slytherin rematch. As a result, the faculty decided to break with tradition and have the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams play., hoping to boost student morale. Harry was disappointed that Slytherin was not be in the match. If they were, then Draco, as Seeker, would be distracted, and Harry would be free to investigate the empty castle and search for Riddle's diary unmolested. Instead, he followed several paces behind Draco, hiding in plain sight within the flood of students trailing out of the castle.

Suddenly, just as they mounted the top of the dungeon staircase, Harry thought it heard it. The voice, momentarily forgotten except in his nightmares, seemed to be whispering directly into Harry's ear...

Rip... Tear...

Harry froze, causing a student behind him to collide with his shoulder. They cursed, saw who Harry was, and continued on quickly, but Harry took no notice of them. He was straining to hear the voice again, but he heard nothing. A shiver ran down his spine. The voice felt like a warning, a sign of an impending attack.

He considered turning back, ready to face this mysterious voice by himself if he had to. But he was torn between following it, and letting Draco out of his sight. He listened a moment longer, but it was impossible. He heard no other whispers, and as more students filled the hall with their laughter and conversation, he was convinced his nerves were just getting the better of him, and that he imagined hearing the voice.

Soon he had reached the Quidditch pitch, and was taking his place in the stands with the rest of the spectators. The two teams were already on the field. They mounted their brooms, ready to take flight, but Harry his eyes trained on Draco.

Madame Hooch placed her whistle to her lips, ready to signal the players for the start of the match. But the signal never came. Instead, the crowd fell silent as Professor McGonagall rushed onto the green pitch, making her way toward Madame Hooch and the gathered players. Harry felt the familiar knot of foreboding in his stomach, certain that the appearance of the deputy headmistress could only mean one thing.

"The match is canceled," Professor McGonagall announced, confirming Harry's fears as she raised her wand to her throat, amplifying her voice. "Students are to return to their common rooms immediately to await further announcements."

There were a few outbursts of anger, but far more whispers as students turned nervously to their neighbors. There were those who didn't speak at all. They all knew what this meant. Another student had been attacked.

Harry felt like he was going to be sick as he walked down toward the dungeons with the other Slytherins. He had heard the voice, but dismissed it. And now someone else had been the victim of Slytherin's beast. Harry prayed that it was merely another petrification, and that the monster hadn't managed to take another life, like it did to that poor girl fifty years ago.

The Slytherins clustered in the common room, all anxiously awaiting the news they had been promised. No one was talking. A few of the first years started to cry, and Harry couldn't blame them. This had to be a terrible way to spend your first year at school.

As if they had all been holding their breath, there was a collective gasp as the door to their common room swung open and Professor Snape entered. A visit from their Head of House was a rare occurrence. In fact, Harry could not remember it happening once since his time at Hogwarts began.

As the Potions Master stood in the doorway, gazing at the worried faces of his students, Harry had the impression that his dark, black robes were fitting for the somber news he was likely to share.

"Until further notice, students will be escorted to their classes by a teacher," Snape said without preamble, "All extracurricular activities are canceled, and a curfew is in place. Students are to be in their dormitories or common rooms after the evening feast each night. There will be no exceptions."

He made sure to direct his gaze directly at Harry as he said these last words, though he quickly looked away again as Gemma Farley asked in a tremulous voice, "So it's true then? Another student has been attacked?"

Snape allowed for the proper dramatic pause to announce, "Yes, another muggle-born was found petrified. She has been relocated to the hospital wing to await the mandrake potion, like the others."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that at least this student hadn't died. But this comfort was short-lived, as Snape had more to add.

"I would be remiss if I did not tell you all that Hogwarts will likely close if the culprit behind these attacks is not caught. If any of you have any information, it would be wise to come forward."

Once again, Snape's eyes were directed at Harry. And he was not alone, the rest of Slytherin House had all turned to look at him, the doubt and fear evident in their expressions. Even Draco watched Harry from a spot not too far distant, a small smirk on his pointed face.

No one attempted to denounce Harry on the spot, perhaps fearing he would retaliate. But it was evident that the entire school, including the members of his own house, were now convinced of Harry's guilt. Without Blaise to support him, and Millie acting distant, Harry was on his own. Keeping his head up was difficult. The treatment he was receiving at school reminded him of his time with the Dursleys. No one was openly cruel to him, but the silent treatment was worse. He was used to it from his relatives, but from a place he once considered home, the ostracism was brutal.

He found relief the following evening around supper, though it came from an odd source. Since they were being escorted to each class by a teacher, mealtimes were one of the few opportunities for students to mingle with those of other houses. As usual, the Slytherins kept aloof from the others, but as Harry made his way to his usual spot, he couldn't help but notice Neville Longbottom seated at the end of the Gryffindor table.

He had his face buried in his hands. Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas were seated at his sides, obviously trying to comfort him. Harry saw his grief and finally realized who the latest victim had been.

At that moment, Neville glanced up and spied Harry. He broke away from his Gryffindor companions, leaving them stunned as he ran across the hall toward Harry, not stopping until he had flung his arms around Harry's neck. Harry, embarrassed and over-aware of the stares the others were directing at them, could only pat Neville's back while he sobbed aloud.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry said, searching for the right words to say, "But Hermione will be alright, won't she? She'll be cured like the others."

Neville pulled away from Harry, sniffling. His nose was swollen and red from crying. Harry had the abrupt, uncomfortable feeling of kinship with him. They had both, in a way, been separated from their closest friend.

"What about the next student?" Neville asked, his voice thick, "What if they aren't so lucky?"

Harry didn't know what to say, but he knew they were attracting too much attention, standing in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry glanced toward the Gryffindor table, but Neville's friends were watching them closely, hostile expressions on their faces. The Slytherin table was equally out of the question, since Harry feared the possibility of Draco overhearing their conversation. He needed to talk to Neville, but there with the curfew and chaperone rules in place, there was no where they could safely go.

"You can sit here if you like," said a soft voice near Harry's elbow.

Harry turned to see a blonde girl seated at the end of the Ravenclaw table. She was sitting alone, and upon meeting Harry's eye, slid down a few feet to enable Harry and Neville to take the spot next to her.

"Er, thanks," Harry said, surprised at the sudden hospitality. The girl looked to be a first year, but she did not eye him with the same mixture of awe and fear as the other underclassmen. Harry concluded that she must be older than she appeared, and accepted a seat by her side, Neville sliding in next to him.

The girl merely gave him a nod, and reached into her bag to pull out a thin magazine. She immediately began to skim over the pages, stopping on an article. Harry had no idea if this was merely pretense, or if she meant to give them some privacy. He turned to Neville and lowered his voice, just to be sure she wouldn't hear.

"Listen, Neville. I want the attacks to stop as much as you do. They'll close the school if we can't get to the bottom of this."

"Hermione thought of something," Neville said quickly, "I mean, before she..."

Harry did not force him to finish the thought. Instead, he pressed Neville for more information.

"We were on our way to the Quidditch match," Neville explained, "We reached the first floor, when Hermione said she thought of something. She ran off to the library, and told me to go on without her."

"She went alone?" Harry asked, surprised that Hermione would be so reckless with the threat of the beast lurking in the school.

Neville shrugged. "That's what she's like. Hermione's always running off to the library for one reason or another. That's where they found her..."

Neville started to tear up again. Harry, fearing another emotional outburst and desperate for more information quickly asked, "Did she say anything to you? I mean, about what she was researching in the library?"
Neville shook his head sadly. "I know she was searching for the beast. She still thinks it's a snake, and that's why you can hear it talk. She had been talking about how it moves around the school unnoticed, and then she must have had an idea, because that's when she ran off. She had a small pocket mirror in her hand when they found her, but that's all I know."

"A mirror?" Harry asked. He realized he was leaning forward, engrossed in the information Neville had to share. Sitting back, he thought hard, but the pieces wouldn't fit together. Hermione had a mirror in her hand, but what did that signify? And how did Hagrid fit into all this? He'd certainly been keeping a monster in the school fifty years ago, but it had far too many legs to be a snake.

Harry removed his glasses, rubbing his palms over his burning eyes and feeling a headache coming on. When he looked up again, Neville was watching him intently.

"What do we do now, Harry?"

Harry glanced up at the faculty table and saw Lockhart chatting with an exasperated looking Professor Sprout. He had an idea.

"Fancy a trip to the loo, Neville?"

"What?" Neville asked, but Harry was already pulling him from his seat and dragging him toward the faculty table.

"Professor Lockhart!" Harry called as they approached the DADA professor.

Lockhart turned to Harry with one of his dazzling smiles. Professor Sprout looked relieved to have his attention pulled away, and offered Harry a warm smile of thanks.

"Harry! What can I do for you?"

"You can help me get to the lavatory, sir," said Harry.

Lockhart's smile faltered and he seemed at a loss for words, so Harry continued in an explanatory tone, "Students aren't allowed to move around the castle without a chaperone, but Neville and I have to go. Will you take us?"

"I'll take you boys," Professor Sprout said, getting to her feet.

"Sorry professor, but you're... y'know... a girl," Harry said, his face reddening even as he said it. The false modesty was embarrassing in itself, but for Harry's plan to work, they needed a teacher as gullible as Lockhart.

"But, Potter..." said Professor Sprout, casting a doubtful eye on Gilderoy.

"It's alright, ma'am," Harry said, giving her a confident smile, "Who better to protect us than the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Lockhart seemed to rally under this praise, and he quickly stepped in, insisting that he could protect the boys alone. He escorted them into the hall toward the nearest boys lavatory, and boldly declared that he would wait for them outside.

"Unless you think I'd better accompany you?" Lockhart asked.

"I don't think that's necessary professor," Harry said, "No one's ever been attacked in a bathroom."

Harry, still dragging Neville along, walked into the lavatory and let the door fall shut behind them. He then began rifling through his bookbag.

"Harry, do you mind telling me what's going on? I don't have to pee!" Neville protested.

Harry, finding the item he was looking for, tossed it into Neville's face. Neville pulled the object from his head and started at the glimmering mass in confusion.

"Harry, what...?"

"I think it's time we talked to Hagrid," said Harry.

"Hagrid? You mean the gamekeeper? But why...?"

"I'll explain on the way," Harry said, pulling the cloak from Neville's hands and throwing it over them both. "First we have to get rid of Lockhart."

Under cover of the invisibility cloak, their bodies completely concealed, Harry and Neville crept toward the lavatory door. Harry opened it only a crack, and could see Lockhart waiting in the wall, whistling a tune to himself.

Harry closed his eyes and pictured Noodle, Blaise's snake. He could see her small black eyes and her flickering forked tongue in his mind's eye. Focusing on the memory, Harry opened his mouth and hissed.

Lockhart jumped and looked around him, but Harry was effectively hidden by the cloak.

"What is that?" Lockhart said, drawing his wand with a shaking hand, "Is someone there?"

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy-Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please, Harry hissed. He knew that it didn't matter what he said. Lockhart would not be able to understand it.

Lockhart gave squeal of fright, glancing wildly up and down the hall.

"Um, Harry?" Lockhart called, "I think I'm needed in the Great Hall... So, just... You boys will be alright walking back down on your own, won't you?"

Harry gave another menacing hiss, and Lockhart, without wasting another minute, quickly bolted down the hall, screaming as he went, "Just be sure to head straight back when you're done!"

"Rotten coward," Harry said, this time in English so that Neville could understand him.

Lockhart wasn't the only one who felt nervous. Neville was practically shaking as he asked, "Harry, what have you done?"

"Now we can leave without being caught," Harry explained, and he began leading the way down to Hagrid's hut.

They waited until they were just outside Hagrid's before pulling off the cloak. Neville was clearly worried about all the rules they were breaking to be there, but he waited by Harry's side without complaint. However, he could not suppress a cry of alarm when Harry knocked on the door, and Hagrid swung it open an instant later, aiming a crossbow at his face.

"Oh, what're you doin' here, Harry?" Hagrid asked when he recognized him.

"Hello to you to, Hagrid!" Harry said, unable to keep his voice down due to his own shock.

Hagrid shushed him and looked about nervously, as if expecting someone to burst out of the bushes nearby. He quickly pulled them both into the cabin, barring the door shut behind him. Only then did he notice that Neville, and not Millie, had accompanied Harry to the cabin.

"Who's yer friend, Harry?"

"This is Neville, Hagrid. He's a friend of Hermione Granger, one of the students who was petrified."

Hagrid's gaze softened and he looked at Neville with genuine compassion.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, son," he said with feeling.

Seeing him look so pained by this news, Harry couldn't believe that Hagrid was really behind the attacks. He thought about what he was going to say as they took their places at the table. Hagrid poured them both mugs of hot water for tea, but he seemed distracted. He forgot to add tea leaves, and he kept looking toward the windows, though he had the shutters closed. Harry was about to begin his questioning, when there was a loud knock on the door.

Hagrid overturned his own tureen of water, sending the steaming contents all over the floor. Harry jumped up before the flood of liquid could burn his lap, and he quickly pulled Neville to his side. Panicked that their disappearance had been noticed so soon, Harry flung the cloak over them both. Hagrid made sure they were hidden before seizing his crossbow and flinging the door open once more.

After a pause, Harry heard someone speak in a calm, though very serious voice.

"Good evening, Hagrid."

It was Dumbledore. And he was not alone. An odd looking man followed him into Hagrid's cabin. He had grey, tousled hair and was dressed in a bizarre mixture of clothes: a pinstripe suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime green bowler.

Neville inhaled sharply and hissed a few words into Harry's ear.

"That's the Minister for Magic!"

Harry pressed his foot on top of Neville's toes to make him shut up, afraid the whisper would give away their position.

"Bad business, Hagrid," said the man Neville had correctly identified as Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, "Four students attacked? Things have gone far enough. The Ministry has to act."

"I never," said Hagrid, fixing his imploring gaze on Dumbledore rather than Fudge, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, you know that I never..."

He faltered, looking pale and tragic under his wild hair and beard. Dumbledore covered for his moment of weakness, stating to Fudge in certain tones, "I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence."

Fudge looked uncomfortable under Dumbledore's stern gaze, "Albus, his record is against him. We simply must do something. The school's governors have sent owl after owl..."

"I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," Dumbledore said. His voice was still very calm, but there was a fierceness in his eyes Harry had never seen from the headmaster before.

Fudge began twirling his bowler in his hands, staring that the green felt rather than into Dumbledore's icy blue eyes.

"I'm under a lot of pressure, Albus. Got to do something, you know. If you are right and Hagrid is not responsible, then he'll return no questions asked. But I've got to take him with me or I'll..."

"Take me?" Hagrid interrupted. His pale face flushed red. "Take me where?"

"Just for a short time," Fudge said apologetically, unable to meet Hagrid's eye, "It's not a punishment, Hagrid, I assure you. Just a precaution."

"Not..." said Hagrid, his voice choked with emotion, "Not Azkaban?"

Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap at the door. This time Neville had to cover Harry's mouth with his hands, because Harry nearly let out a loud gasp.

Lucius Malfoy stepped through the door. He was swathed in a black travelling cloak, and his long blond hair looked slightly windswept, as if he arrived in a hurry. However, you would never suspect he arrived in haste from the serene smile on his face.

"Already here, Fudge? Good, I was hoping I would not be late."

"What're you doin' here?" Hagrid said furiously while Fang began to growl at the intruder, "Get outta my house!"

"My dear man, I take no pleasure in being in your..." Mr. Malfoy paused, looking disdainfully at the rustic accouterments of Hagrid's home. "House..." He concluded, looking very much like he doubted Hagrid's hut deserved the term. He shrugged and continued, "I came calling for Dumbledore, and heard that he and the minister had come down here from the school."

"How can I help you, Lucius?" Dumbledore said pleasantly, though Harry feared for Mr. Malfoy's safety while the fire still raged in Dumbledore's eyes.

"A dreadful task, I'm afraid," Mr. Malfoy said, but the smile on his lips belied his words. He was immensely pleased with his appointment, Harry was sure. "The governors received a complaint, and after looking into the matter, we feel you are losing your touch. I have with me an order of suspension, and I think you'll find all twelve signatures accounted for."

He passed Dumbledore a roll of parchment, which Dumbledore took without glancing at it.

"Now see here, Lucius!" Fudge exclaimed, "Suspending Dumbledore! Don't you think that's a bit rash? I think that's the last thing we want right now..."

"Another muggle-born attacked only yesterday," Mr. Malfoy interrupted, "And two others before that. Not to mentioned a petrified ghost, I believe? And what has Dumbledore done to stop these catastrophes?"

He paused, as if giving Dumbledore a moment to defend himself. Harry waited, no less anxious to hear Dumbledore's explanation, and hoping he would put Mr. Malfoy in his place. But Dumbledore said nothing. He merely stood there, the letter for his resignation in hand, as if waiting for something more to occur.

Mr. Malfoy sneered at Dumbledore's silence, countering Fudge's renewed protests with a regal wave of his hand.

"As Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks, the governors feel that a new headmaster is in order. All twelve of us have voted..."

Hagrid straightened to his full height, his head grazing the low ceiling.

"An' how many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, eh Malfoy?"

Mr. Malfoy took a few steps backward, reasonably cowed by Hagrid's awesome size. Dumbledore could see Hagrid's temper starting to flare, and he ordered him to remain calm with a few words.

Mr. Malfoy adjusted his traveling cloak fastidiously, muttering something to Hagrid about learning to control his temper around the Azkaban guards. Neither Dumbledore nor Hagrid paid his threats any mind, and instead, Dumbledore fixed his attention back on Fudge, acting as if Mr. Malfoy were not even in the same room.

"I will go, Cornelius," he said simply, "Since the governors have asked for my removal, I will of course step aside."

Hagrid and Fudge both looked as if they would protest some more, but Dumbledore was able to silence then with a look. He continued, his voice so soft Harry practically had to hold his breath to hear.

"However, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

"A noble sentiment," Mr. Malfoy said with an ironic bow, "Let us hope your successor will act on more than sentiment alone, and prevent any further attacks."

He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out before him. Fudge, still fiddling nervously with his hat, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him.

But Hagrid stood his ground, took a steadying breath, and said after careful deliberation, "If anyone wanter ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right. That's all I'm sayin'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement, but Harry thought he understood Hagrid instantly. It was clearly, though not cleverly, meant as a message for him.

Hagrid grabbed his moleskin overcoat, patted a whining Fang on the head, and preceded Fudge out the door quickly, as if afraid he would lack the strength to leave of his own volition if he lingered any longer. Harry and Neville waited a full minute after the door banged shut to move or speak. Harry was the first to pull the cloak off, and he turned to stare at a frightened Neville.

"No Dumbledore..." he said, "Harry, what do we do now?"

Harry thought about his friend, at that moment being whisked away to the wizard prison known as Azkaban. Harry had no idea what horrors he would face there, but he knew from the Hagrid's reaction that it was a dreaful place. His mind was made up.

"We do what Hagrid said. We follow the spiders."