Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
I just about managed to get this in today. I had to read so many reviews, so thanks for all the wonderful feedback it makes my day. I do now know if I ever want to up the number of reviews this fic has I just need to brutally murder someone. Maybe I should make a poll ;) I'm just kidding, only I get to choose who gets brutally murdered, author's privilege.
I've also changed my interpretation of the Fidelius charm back, I've found a easier way to solve the problem without creating a succession of small (or not so small) plot holes to fix. Thanks for pointing out that it was only after Dumbledore died that everyone could become secret keepers, I missed that.
Here's the next chapter...
Chapter 54
The light crept up the side of the window, inching, as it had been since the sun first rose, over the stonework he sat opposite from. Harry had watched it since sitting here to see the sunlight slip down his body the previous evening.
Sleep simply wouldn't come. He knew the moment he lay down in the bed and stopped watching the light that his thoughts would start to swarm again. All the questions that hadn't occurred before rising to the surface.
He was sure that what he had done had been the best possible solution for him, for them, but that wouldn't help him explain things to Fleur. He wasn't sure that there even was a good way to say it. It would solve so many of their problems if things went anywhere close to how he expected them to and yet the act itself was unforgivable.
Surely she will understand.
The thought was filled with hope, brimming with it, but hope was not enough to quell his fear that this time she would finally say that it was too far. It was not enough to let him sleep. It was not enough for him to manage the two words that would let him speak to her and know for sure.
He was not being brave, his reluctance to face the consequences of his actions disgusted him, but the hope was better than risking knowing Fleur had changed her mind, and so the smooth, triangular mirror clenched in his palm remained clear.
Fleur would find out soon anyway. Their morning paper would come, she would see the result and then she would come to speak to him. Not contacting her was probably just making it worse.
The sunlight passed another line in the stonework of the window, and not for the first time he was glad that the dormitory was all but empty. Neville, the only other occupant now he had returned a day early, slept like the dead. Harry could only faintly make out his breathing when he strained his ears. His friend wouldn't wake up until the last moment he could before going to breakfast, which left him at least another hour or so here on his own to contemplate the repercussions of his actions.
Closing his eyes he focused on his magic, trying for the first time since he originally cast the Killing Curse to feel the soul he had once fractured.
The pieces were no longer screaming, their deafening silence had lulled to a whisper, a subtle susurration that surrounded him as his reflections stared back at him from within the fragments of himself.
There were fewer than before, but almost every pair of eyes he could feel gazing up at him were cold, hard and curious. To his relief there was no gleam of crimson among the emerald eyed crowd, no hint of the part of him that had once been part of Voldemort.
The cracked mirror of his soul had a over hundred faces, where there had once been a thousand, for every inky black fragment that murmured from within him there had once been ten. He was healing.
He opened his eyes.
Rita Skeeter's death had done little damage to his soul in comparison to what Peter Pettigrew's had done. That made him feel a bit better about it. The less mutilated his soul was then the less selfish the intent and motivation behind casting the Killing Curse had been, and that was reassuring like nothing else could be.
The mirror grew hot in his hand.
He took a deep breath before raising it to his face and replying.
'Fleur,' he smiled warmly. Her eyes remained cold, narrow and furious. The structure of her face had shifted ever so slightly, just as the veela he had first seen shift at the World Cup, hinting at the avian form she could take, and the depths of her anger.
'There is a long way from blackmail to murder,' she told him, her expression cool and distant. He felt like he was suddenly talking to the Beauxbatons witch who had dismissed and insulted him again.
'I had no choice,' he defended. 'She would never have written the article unless she thought she would not have to publish it.'
'She can't publish anything now she's dead,' Fleur responded icily, her chin sharpening slightly. 'Nor does that explain why the Dark Mark was cast over her house.'
'I didn't need her to print anything,' Harry explained, 'I just needed to create doubt about the story the Ministry is spreading. Rita's death under the Dark Mark, which I am capable of casting, can't be ignored.'
'You think just because someone has died under the Dark Mark that they will believe Voldemort has returned,' Fleur exclaimed in angry French. 'There is no motive, no reason for them to attack someone who was covering up their existence. They will simply blame your godfather again.'
'The article I made her write, the one she thought she would never have to print because I swore a vow that voided my influence over her before she handed it in, was all about Lucius Malfoy and his Death Eater connections. The aurors will have found it, and the cabinet of files she kept.'
'So they think she was about to start exposing them,' Fleur realised. 'She dies under a Dark Mark that most of London saw, and doubt begins to spread,' her features grew distinctly more avian, 'it sounds like a very well thought out plan.'
'Thank you?' Harry questioned very hesitantly.
'Thank you,' she hissed, shifting the rest of the way for an instant before regaining control and reverting, 'thank you. You had a well thought out, clever plan that achieves one of our aims, and you fed me that rubbish about blackmail, made me promise to apparate away to worry about you and didn't contact me when you returned to let me know you were safe. What happened to no more secrets?' She demanded furiously. 'Or was that as much of a lie as the plan you told me in your Chamber of Secrets.'
'I didn't lie,' he snapped, angry with her for the first time since the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. If she agreed with his actions he had done nothing wrong; there was no reason for her to be angry with him.
'You told me you were going to blackmail her, not kill her and conjure the Dark Mark over her house.' Fleur's wide, dark eyes bored into him, aflame with wrath.
'I was going to blackmail her until I realised I wouldn't have enough leverage to actually get her to do what I wanted, even if I bluffed successfully, and I only came to that conclusion once you'd left. The Ministry would ignore her offences as long as she keeps slandering Dumbledore and myself, so I had to offer her permanent protection against me knowing her secret, and a way to ensure she didn't risk herself.' He stared at her furiously, ignoring the cold spreading across his chest, she was supposed to know him better than this. Fleur should know that he wouldn't lie to her.
Fleur's face shifted, the bones rearranging themselves back into their usual structure, and the darkness drained from her eyes to leave them the summer sky blue that Harry loved.
'So you didn't lie to me,' she voiced slowly.
'Of course I didn't,' he told her coldly. 'You should have known that I wouldn't.' Part of him wanted to snap the locket shut, to let her believe he was angry with her for falsely accusing him and leave her to suffer, but he couldn't quite bring his fingers to do it.
'Where did you learn to conjure the Dark Mark?' Fleur asked quietly.
'What does it matter?' Harry retorted viciously, her accusation had hurt him more than he had expected. 'You'll just assume I'm lying again anyway.' Fleur flinched as if he had slapped her, and he immediately regretted his petty jab.
'I'm sorry,' Harry apologised, feeling awful. 'I shouldn't have said that, and I know I should have contacted you afterwards. I sat here all night trying to think of a way to tell you what I'd really done.' He shrugged helplessly. 'I haven't moved.'
Fleur breathed her amusement out through her nose. 'I did not sleep either, I was too concerned, and then I was watching the memories you gifted me when I wanted to stop worrying. Did you really just sit in an empty room surrounded by pictures of me?' He flushed and looked away from her eyes, but nodded. He'd rather be embarrassed than arguing with her.
'I know you like the idea of me missing you so badly,' Harry said, 'so I thought you might like to have it, it's not like you didn't already know about it.' He paused, considering the worst possible outcome of creating that memory. 'Just don't let Gabrielle see it,' he pleaded. He shuddered to think what Gabrielle would make of that.
'I won't,' something faintly possessive coloured her tone, 'I'm going to be the only one who watches these.'
'Trying to keep me all to yourself?' Harry teased.
'I'm not trying,' she answered archly.
'When can I next come to see you?' He asked, hoping very much that she said tomorrow, or, better yet, today.
'I have my exams over the next two weeks,' she informed him sadly. 'I will be too busy for long visits, but we can still speak like this from time to time.'
Harry nodded, more than a little disappointed. 'Good luck,' he forced himself to smile, 'I'm sure you will not need it.'
'I hope not,' Fleur admitted, a brief flutter of uncertainty passing though her eyes. 'I don't have a second chance if I fail.'
'Since when has Fleur Delacour failed,' Harry reminded her playfully.
'Fleur Delacour does not fail,' she agreed, gracing him with a warm smile and a throaty chuckle. She sounded so like Salazar Slytherin's portrait that Harry could not help but laugh. 'I have to leave, maman has finished breakfast and we must go to Carcassonne. I am still suspended,' she wrinkled her nose in dainty distaste.
'Have fun,' Harry grinned. 'Actually,' he added thoughtfully, 'would it be possible for me to order some Polyjuice Potion from you?'
'What are you going to do with it?' Fleur asked.
'I'm going to steal one of your sister's hairs and pretend to be her evil twin for as long as I can,' Harry replied, straight-faced.
'Gabby will be the more evil twin,' Fleur smiled, 'but seriously?'
'It might be useful,' Harry responded honestly. 'My plan is quite complex, so I'd like to be as prepared as possible for when things don't go quite as anticipated.'
'I'll order it for you,' Fleur promised, 'you can pay me next time you come to visit.' She gave him a wave, then blew him a kiss and the mirror went blank.
'Who were you talking to?' Neville asked sleepily from behind his hangings.
'We're the only two people in the dormitory, Nev,' Harry pointed out calmly.
'I didn't hear what you said,' he yawned.
'It doesn't matter,' Harry responded evenly, smoothing out his robes in an attempt to make it look like he hadn't spent all night in them.
'I suppose I should get up and go towards breakfast,' Neville grumbled to himself. The sound of rustling clothing was soon audible and in a few minutes he managed to extricate himself from his bedclothes and open the hangings.
'Morning, Neville,' Harry commented, as his friend stepped away from his bed, tangling one foot in the hangings and stumbling to the floor. 'Breakfast?'
'Yes,' Neville agreed from the floor. 'I've got loads of stuff to tell you that my Gran found out last night.'
'Oh?' Harry extended a hand to help Neville back to his feet and raised an eyebrow.
'Apparently Rita Skeeter was killed in her home yesterday and the Dark Mark was conjured over the top, but,' Neville continued missing Harry's lack of surprise, 'they found all sorts of interesting stuff in her house.'
'What did they find?' Harry asked evenly, already knowing the answer.
'Some article about Lucius Malfoy and Death Eaters that she was going to put in her column.'
'So Malfoy was the one who did it then?'
'His associates, Gran reckons,' Neville explained. 'Malfoy has alibis, but it's likely he just asked some of his friends to cloak up and do it for him.'
'So he escapes justice once again,' Harry concluded, as the crossed an empty common room towards the passageway out.
'Yeah,' Neville frowned. 'The interesting thing is that Gran said Amelia Bones, the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, has been working her office round the clock since aurors got through the wards on Skeeter's home, and almost a hundred Ministry officials resigned, or were fired this morning. There were a lot of former Death Eaters among them too.'
They found the filing cabinet, Harry realised.
He hadn't intended anything to come of it other than extra evidence that Death Eaters were likely responsible, and he would have preferred to take the other files himself, but his Unbreakable Vow bound him from breaking into anything she owned and she would still own her possessions until her will was read out.
It had worked out quite well if the employees forced to leave their jobs because were those in Rita's collection of subject material. The Ministry would be a lot better of without so many morally reprehensible individuals among them. If Voldemort attacked he would have far fewer allies inside the Ministry. Of course that did mean he now had more outside in his actual army, but Harry hoped they would do less damage in the open.
'What's the Prophet saying?' Harry asked curiously, stepping carefully over the trick step on the main staircase and catching Neville before he forgot and got trapped.
'They couldn't sweep this one under the rug,' Neville smiled a bit grimly, 'most of London saw it, there were a lot of Memory Charms performed on muggles. They tried to make it look it was Sirius Black and his rogue Death Eaters, but that excuse is wearing thin. Gran said their emergency Wizengamot session was largely an attempt by Fudge to convince everyone that Voldemort hadn't returned and that his days as Minister are numbered.'
'Does you Gran tell you everything that happens in these sessions?' Harry grinned. The Great Hall was practically empty. A scatter of students, mostly Ravenclaws, were eating alone along their tables, and the staff table was empty save for a rather cheerful looking Professor Vector.
'Yes,' Neville sighed. 'The Wizengamot seat is hereditary and she's just my proxy which means that once I'm seventeen I have to go myself. Gran wants to be sure I know what I'm doing so she spends an hour talking to me after every meeting.'
'That sounds wonderful,' Harry smirked, taking a seat on the completely empty Gryffindor table.
'I don't know why you're laughing,' Neville responded. 'I'm fairly sure you have at least one seat yourself.'
'At least one?' Harry had assumed there was something democratic about the way the Ministry was run.
I probably should have known better really, he thought wryly.
'You have an old family that absorbed a few other prominent names and accrued a lot of political weight,' Neville explained. 'Gran mentioned that once you're of age you'll one of the most politically powerful wizards or witches in Britain, especially with your fame.'
'That sounds fun,' Harry dryly. 'A lifetime of exchanging barbed compliments with the likes of Lucius Malfoy.'
'Hopefully he'll be in Azkaban by then,' Neville pointed out.
'Or I'll be dead,' Harry agreed. Neville laughed. 'Katie and Fleur got angry when I made that joke,' he mused.
'Why?' Neville asked bemusedly. 'It was funny.'
'Beats me,' Harry shrugged.
There was a short silence as Harry carefully constructed himself a bacon sandwich from the nearby platters of breakfast, liberally cramming bacon between his slices of toast.
'I'm not sure you'll be able to bite that,' Neville remarked, watching as he ate a less ambitious breakfast of sausage and poached eggs.
'I can certainly try,' Harry countered, stretching his jaw to encompass the sandwich. It was a bit far to be comfortable. 'Maybe I should cut it,' he sighed, reaching for his silverware.
'Probably for the best,' Neville agreed, 'you don't need to substitute for Ron's table manners when he's away.'
'My sincerest apologies,' Harry replied dryly. 'So what are you doing today? Nobody comes back until tomorrow.'
'Professor Sprout offered to let me help her in the greenhouses,' Neville smiled, 'I brought Hannah to show to her.'
'Hannah?' Harry blinked. 'That's not how you introduce your girlfriend to people Neville, but congratulations for finally asking her out, everyone knows you like Miss Abbott.'
Neville let out a very undignified squeak and turned the colour of a rather overripe pomegranate. 'I named my mimbulus mimbletonia Hannah,' he admitted in a small voice.
'Oh,' Harry realised. 'Well if you want my advice I'd make sure Hannah, the girl that is, knows how much you love your cactus, before she finds out you named a slimy, spiky, stinky sap shooting monster of a plant after her and takes it badly.'
'You think she won't like it,' Neville gulped.
'I think she'll like it once she knows how much you love the plant,' Harry mediated. 'If she doesn't know that, though, then you're going to be spending a whole lot more time with the less attractive, green version of Hannah than with the pretty, pig-tailed one.' Neville had continued to colour reaching a very splendid shade of Gryffindor crimson as Harry talked.
'When you said everyone knows,' he began tentatively.
'I meant that literally every person in the school knows that you like her,' Harry grinned. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Dumbledore's end of year speech mentions it.
If he's still here, Harry added silently.
'So Hannah knows?' Neville squeaked.
'I think she was one of the first to notice, Nev,' Harry told him. 'You spend a lot of time staring at her, and then you start getting really dreamy-eyed and go all red. What do you start thinking about?' He did his very best to copy Gabrielle's suggestive, mischievous glance.
'I think I need to go see Professor Sprout,' Neville decided, abandoning his breakfast.
'You could just ask Hannah to Hogsmeade,' Harry suggested. 'She might say yes, you know.'
Neville didn't look at all convinced, or any less flushed, as he hurried along between the tables.
I suppose I should check on Dobby and then go and speak to Sirius, Harry decided, finishing his sandwich in a series of messy forkfuls.
The elf hadn't seen him since acting as a witness for his vow with Rita, and while Dobby could never betray him, it would be best if the house elf believed there was a really good reason for what happened. His godfather, on the other, more important hand, might know a lot more about what was happening at the Ministry, and, of course, it was time to ask about the prophecy. Sirius had had long enough to stew pent up wherever he was in London over Christmas.
Harry swung himself off the bench and began to wonder in the direction of the Chamber of Secrets.
'Dobby,' he called quietly.
There was a loud crack, and the elf appeared directly in front of him, forcing Harry to halt in his path to avoid falling over him.
'How have you been, Dobby?' Harry asked, slowly walking up the stairs and along the corridor towards Myrtle's bathroom.
'Dobby is good, Master Harry Potter,' the elf looked around furtively, 'Dobby is happy that his master has managed to strike back against that family and their friends. Dobby knows the nasty green lady from before, she is a friend of Dobby's old master.'
'She wasn't a very nice person,' Harry agreed, 'but what happened was about making sure your former master's master doesn't win.'
'Dobby understands,' the elf nodded, bobbing alongside him. 'Master Harry Potter is very noble, he tries to protect everyone however he can.'
'Thank you, Dobby,' Harry smiled. The house elf was likely never going to think badly of him. 'Have you been watching Professor Umbridge for me?'
'Dobby has. The nasty pink lady has tried to harm students over and over again, so Dobby has been making sure she can't.' A vicious grin appeared on the elf's face. 'She is getting suspicious of Dobby now, there is much more magic around her office than there used to be.'
'Can you still get in?'
'Dobby won't fail Master Harry Potter,' the elf declared adoringly. 'Master Harry Potter risked his life to save all the students from the monster of the chamber when Dobby only tried to save one. Dobby knows better now. He will do what Master Harry Potter would have done and save them all.'
'Thank you, Dobby,' Harry knelt in front of the entrance to the bathroom to clasp the house elf's hand between his. 'You're assistance is invaluable in keeping everyone safe from Umbridge.'
'Dobby will not fail,' the elf repeated, ears flapping as he nodded, then vanished in another loud crack.
Harry shook his head at the elf once he'd gone. The utter adoration with which Dobby regarded him had been funny once, but now it was a little disturbing. He felt a little sorry for the house elf, having such blind loyalty for him when he'd changed so much.
I'll make sure Dobby's well looked after, Harry decided. Loyalty should be rewarded.
Stepping into Myrtle's haunt he gave the ordinary looking bathroom a quick check, but everything was in its normal place from the tiny snake engraved on one of the taps to the perpetual puddle on the floor.
'Open,' he commanded the chamber, hurrying down the dark stairs to speak to his godfather.
It was a little strange walking through the serpent effigies and knowing that someone else knew about this place now, even if it was Fleur whom he trusted implicitly.
'I'm back,' he called out to his ancestor.
'Alone? Or have you brought your French muse with you?'
'Alone,' Harry replied calmly, ignoring the slight twinge he felt at knowing he probably wouldn't really see her for a while now.
'Have you come to learn something?' Salazar asked. 'Or are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?'
'I came to speak to my godfather,' Harry answered, 'it's time to press him about the prophecy. Rita Skeeter, however, is dead, and the Dark Mark was seen by most of London.'
'Are they starting to believe?' Slytherin asked.
'I don't know,' Harry mused. 'I do know that a lot of wizards and witches who might have been Voldemort supporters, or become ones, no longer work for the Ministry after aurors discovered all the material Skeeter dug up.'
'That's good too,' the founder decided. 'An unexpected bonus.'
Harry picked up the mirror from the desk and breathed his godfather's name onto it, pressing a finger to his lips to warn Salazar that he had to be quiet.
The response was instant.
'Harry,' his godfather grinned delightedly. 'How are you? How was your Christmas? I have your present, but I can't seem to get Dumbledore to give it you.'
'It was good,' Harry didn't smile, 'except for what happened to Mr Weasley.'
'Yes,' the grin vanished. 'Arthur is already missed, things have been subdued here.'
'He shouldn't have had to die,' Harry said with genuine ire.
'He died on duty for the Order,' Sirius responded, 'which is better than what I'm doing, rotting in here, not helping anyone.'
'Nobody should be guarding the Department of Mysteries,' Harry declared, 'the prophecy should be heard and then broken.'
Sirius paled. 'How do you know about that?'
'Voldemort mentioned it,' Harry shrugged. 'I assumed there was a good reason for me not being told,' he lied, 'or I did until now. Mrs Weasley looked like she blamed me.'
Molly is upset after losing Arthur,' Sirius replied uncomfortably. 'She doesn't really blame you, none of the Weasley's do, but knowing he died protecting something for you makes it hard for them to be around you without being reminded of what they've lost.'
'I understand,' Harry said sadly. Truthfully he didn't particularly care. He had respected and liked Arthur Weasley, but he wasn't responsible for his death, and if the Weasley's couldn't face him because they blamed him in part then there was nothing he could do about it. Apathy was an effective armour sometimes.
'How much do you know about it?' Sirius asked curiously.
'I've gathered that it's about me, that it's in the Department of Mysteries, that you're secretly protecting it and Voldemort is after it.'
'That's pretty much all there is to it,' his godfather informed him.
'I want to know why you haven't just broken it, or if you can't the surely you could have moved or stolen it.'
'Only the person the prophecy is about can remove it,' Sirius explained, 'there are some very nasty protections on them.'
'So only Voldemort or I can take it?' Harry asked, glancing up at Salazar who was listening intently.
'Yes,' his godfather agreed.
'So unless he gets it, which is obviously bad, people are going to keep dying unless I come and take it.'
'You can't come and get it, Harry,' Sirius told him. 'This is why Dumbledore insisted we didn't tell you, he was afraid you'd insist on coming to get it.'
'Yeah, but it's fine for you to die guarding it when I could just come and see it and then break it,' Harry retorted sarcastically.
'Well if you come then you might get hurt,' Sirius explained half-heartedly, clearly not really convinced himself.
'You mean there's a chance someone might get bitten and killed by a snake?' Harry asked mockingly. 'If you can secretly guard it, then I can secretly sneak in, listen to it so we know what it says, then destroy it so Voldemort never knows and nobody else will get hurt.'
'I suppose,' Sirius sighed. 'I'll talk to the Order.' His face grew more determined as he thought about it. 'I think you're right, we just have to persuade everyone to listen.'
'No,' Harry shook his head. 'Dumbledore will never agree. We can sneak in together, under the invisibility cloak, nobody will ever notice, and tell him afterwards. He doesn't get to dictate what we do, he's just as prone to mistakes as the rest of us, Arthur Weasley died because he thought sneaking me in for an hour was more dangerous that leaving people permanently in harm's way!'
'It sounds like being back at Hogwarts and sneaking out after curfew,' Sirius grinned.
'I don't know how to get in,' Harry commented.
'I'll think of something,' Sirius assured him. 'We'll go when Mundungus is on watch, he can easily be bribed or threatened into letting us in the department, and once we're in after hours the place will be empty.'
'How do I get to the Ministry?' Harry asked.
'Once you're here I can apparate you,' Sirius decided. 'Everyone else already knows, the Weasley's and Hermione were here over Christmas and in the summer to help clear the place up. He looked down and there was a brief rustle as he searched his pockets. I kept this when Dumbledore gave it to me,' he grinned holding up the tattered piece of parchment.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at number twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry read in the smudged, but elegant, slanted script of the headmaster.
'You kept the note he gave you?' Harry raised an eyebrow. 'I doubt Dumbledore would approve.'
'I can't leave the house, if someone finds that note they're already inside and it doesn't matter,' Sirius explained. 'When are we going to go?'
Harry considered it for a moment. He still needed to make sure he had a way to oust Umbridge, even if he could probably improvise a little bit when he had to.
'I don't know,' he answered finally. 'I need to find a way to sneak out without Umbridge or Dumbledore realising.'
'I'll be waiting,' his godfather nodded, grinning maniacally. 'I feel younger just thinking about doing this. It will be good to have some excitement again.'
'And to destroy that prophecy,' Harry reminded him.
'That too,' Sirius conceded. 'Have you heard about what's happening at the Ministry today?' 'No,' Harry shook his head.
'Since you should really know this stuff, and you seem to have a habit of finding things out anyway I'll tell you what the Order knows. You'll be a member soon anyway. Lily and James both were.' Harry felt a slight flare of guilt at the mention of his parents. He doubted they'd be very proud of him if they knew everything he had done and was about to do.
'What's happened?'
'Tonks, a cousin of mine, and our eyes and ears amongst the aurors, said Amelia Bones found a whole cupboard of dirty secrets and that the office has been working non-stop investigating them since yesterday. A lot of the Death Eaters and their allies have been forced out of the Ministry, though we lost a couple of our own too. It's the best thing that's happened since the Order was reformed, without those officials Fudge's grip is weakening, he lost a lot of supporters, Malfoy's the only one left with any real power, and he's under suspicion for the death of Rita Skeeter.'
'That's good,' Harry agreed. That cabinet had done a great deal more than he'd ever anticipated. It was a welcome surprise, and a warning that his plans might have serious, unexpected consequences if he wasn't more careful.
'Good?' Sirius grinned again, the lines around his eyes deepening. 'It's better than good! It means the Ministry might be about to wake up and realise what's happening before it's too late and Voldemort razes the place to the ground.'
AN: Please read and keep on reviewing, thanks to everyone who does! A Cadmean Victory has just gone past a million views today, so champagne for me!
