Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter Four -- What Comes, Will Come

We will see each uzzer again I 'ope

Fleur Delacour

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Nobody, absolutely nobody attending Hogwarts expected that year to be normal, not after last year's Triwizard Tournament results. Not after Dumbledore's disturbing (to say the least) announcement.

Harry tugged his robes tighter around his neck, trying to ignore the hush that fell over his classmates when he walked towards them and the stirring murmur that followed his departure. Ron walked by his sides, brief fight forgotten as the two friends silently supported each other. No words were spoken; none were needed. Hermione, in her haste, had left Crankshafts in her room and received permission to stay behind to pick up her beloved cat, as long as she stayed near Arthur Weasley.

Ron stirred as the Express let out a gush of black smoke before lurching forward, gaining speed, and starting its daylong trip. Exhausted from the night's tricks, Harry pressed his scarred forehead against the cool window, watching the scenery go by.

Their compartment door opened and the twins slid in, identical grins on their faces. "Don't tell us you're planning on sleeping the whole way to Hogwarts," Fred complained with a smile.

Ron sat up, looking a bit miffed. "It's not like we slept a great deal last night-" He promptly shut his mouth at the growing grins, not trusting the twins in the least.

Fred turned to George. "It looks like they need a good Pepper-Up potion," he declared in solid, professional tones despite the grin on his face.

George nodded with the same solemnity. "That… or a good practical joke. Say, we're planning a trip down to the stinky Slytherin part of the train."

"If you don't mind," Harry interrupted, "I agree with Ron." Yawn. "Too tired."

Fred scoffed. "You'd turn down the chance to introduce Malfoy to a whole new year at Hogwarts? Not to mention all the first year Slytherins?"

The door opened again to show in Neville, looking worse for wear. His face was red and burned the skin off his nose beginning to peel. He gave a start when he saw the four already in the room. "Oh. I thought this room was empty-"

"Blimey, Neville!" Ron shot to his feet. "What happened to you?"

Harry was sure Neville was blushing but couldn't tell for sure since the boy's face was already red. "I accidentally walked into a room with some Slytherins talking and…" He trailed off with a shrug. "I think it was Malfoy who threw the curse."

Ron was at the door. "That git Malfoy things he can get away with anything," he fumed, hurriedly shoving his wand down his pocket. He stopped to glare at everyone. "Well, are you coming?"

"Coming where?" Professor McGonagall opened the door just in time to hear Ron's last words. Her eyes traveled across the compartment. When she saw Neville, her hands flew to her mouth. "Good heavens, child! What on earth happened to you? No, no. Don't talk. Off to Pomfrey right this instance."

She turned on the twins. "I hope this isn't one of your 'practical' jokes, Weasley-"

"It was Malfoy!" Ron burst out. "We were on our way to…" Seeing McGonagall raise her eyebrows, Ron went red, realizing what he was about to confess to.

"Discuss," Harry volunteered.

"Yea, 'discuss' what he did to Neville."

"Hmph. I'm sure this discussion would likely involve cursing and flying fists." She sniffed. "I'd appreciate it if you three would refrain from taking this into your own hands. I'll deal with Mr. Malfoy later." She paused to let her words sink in. "Good, now Ronald, I trust your owl reached you this year, giving you a certain letter."

Ron blushed, surprising Harry. "Yes."

McGonagall reached into her pocket. "You agree?" Ron nodded. "Very well. Here's your badge." And she dropped a prefect's badge into Ron's hand.

Harry was thunderstruck. Fred and George stared a moment before laughing, slapping Ron on the back. "Prefect? Way to go, Ron! Soon, you'll be working down at the Ministry, alias 'Weatherby.'" Ron's blush deepened and he stuttered for words.

"And just what it the problem?" McGonagall's eyebrows crinkled. "There's nothing wrong with being a prefect. It is a great honor, in fact."

"Of course it is," Harry agreed smoothly, cutting her mini-speech off.

McGonagall "Hmph"ed again, glaring at the snickering twins. "Well, I'll be off to take care of Mr. Malfoy. Again, let me assure you that should I find out or hear of you, any of you, trying to attack Draco or get your revenge or something akin to that, not only will I take away points, but each of you will receive detention because I specifically told you not to. And Harry," she added, "the Headmaster would like to see you immediately, once you arrive at school."

"Wonder why," Harry remarked as McGonagall left, shortly followed by two twins muttering, "She said if she finds out. Left us a loophole to work with."

"Probably those dreams of yours," Ron replied listlessly. He was starring at the badge in his hands. "Prefect… what was I thinking?"

"Well, with both you and Hermione being prefects this year, we can get away with a lot more than we ever have." Harry tried to laugh but it went flat with a sigh. If anything, Ron looked worse. "I'm sorry, Ron—congratulations, anyhow."

At Hogwarts, Harry dutifully stepped off his carriage, leaving Ron alone with Dean Thomas, Seamus, and a healed but red Neville. Walking away from the four, Harry wandered through the castle-school until he reached the stone gargoyle, surprised to see it already swinging opened. Up the stairs, bits of conversation flew down to Harry, freezing him where he stood.

"-gone, so we can't-"

"-Dementor's Kiss-"

"-never had a trial-"

"-insane!"

Harry raced up the stairs to find Dumbledore sitting behind his deck with a serene look to his face despite the fierce argument going on before him. Remus was there, along with Arthur Weasley (which meant Hermione was at school already, Harry noted) and two others Harry didn't quite recognize. One was an old witch dressed in old robes Harry was sure he knew. The other was an equally old wizard, looking strong despite his age.

They were yelling back at Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, and two other Ministry workers. Harry noticed a pale, dark robed wizard behind the Minister, shocked to remember the wizard as being one of those 'unmentionables' Ron had pointed out back at the Quidditch World Cup. Bode or Croaker was his name.

As if he heard Harry's thoughts, the unmentionable turned to stare at the boy with deep, unreadable eyes. Harry gulped.

Dumbledore smiled as he saw Harry. "Hello, Harry. Glad to see you've made it to another year at Hogwarts without any mishaps."

Fudge noticed Harry at the same time, watching him with ill-disguised disgust. "Yes, hello Mr. Potter. What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

He could feel everyone's eyes on him now. "Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me, sir," Harry addressed Dumbledore, determined not to let anyone see how nervous he was. "The stone gargoyle was already opened, so I just came up."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I do need to speak with you. Would you mind taking a seat? I'm afraid you'll have to wait for this meeting to end."

Just as Harry nodded and sat down, Fudge stood and gathered his robes together. "We're all through here."

"No we're not!" the witch beside Remus shot back angrily. She motioned to Dumbledore. "Dumbledore tells us that You-Know-Who is back, and you don't believe him despite all the evidence that's clearly given to us." Her eyes flashed, making her spirit appear much younger than her body. "You-Know-Who was never one to be subtle. The signs are all there-"

"Sirius Black was the cause for those unfortunate attacks," Fudge denied coldly. "He is a murderer, just adding more souls to his lists. And since he's been put into custody, there have been no more of these so-called 'signs.'"

"What about the muggles?" Arthur pressed.

Lucius Malfoy sneered, reminding Harry violently of his son, Draco. The two were almost carbon copies of each other. "What do muggles and their society have to do with anything, Weasley?" The same taunt, the same drawls. Harry shook his head.

Arthur's ears went pink but he wasn't thrown off. "Ever since summer began, the muggle economy all over the world has been failing, going down. I think that You-Know-Who is the cause of this."

"Muggles are unstable savages," Lucius countered smoothly. "Their economy and nations have failed before, not because of some dark art but because the muggle world is, as a whole, stupid. Are you going to blame every mishap on some Dark Lord's return?"

He looked straight to Fudge. "If you announce that You-Know-Who has been revived and is returned, not only will you be supporting a lie, you'll also be responsible for the mass hysteria that will overtake our communities. Wizards and witches will panic and become like Alastor Moody, attacking everything that moves. Our economy will fail, just like the muggles, for no better reason than an untimely rumor. That's just where it'll start.

"If you then try to retract your statement that the Dark Lord has risen, you'll lose all control as Minister of the wizarding world because they'll be too frightened to listen to reason, preferring to believe that you're working with the Dark Lord and think you a traitor. Total chaos is the only thing that will come of you following that choice."

Lucius let out a small smirk of triumph appear on his face as Fudge considered his words.

"Voldemor' is returned," the wizard beside Arthur intoned in hie deep voice. "'nd if ya don't see it, if ya don't see 'im leavin' behind 'im a trail to laugh at us with, than ya be as blind as bats. Don'e ya remember back, when Gridelwald star'ed 'is trip ta power, an' nobody though' he cad do it? 'e was messin' wi' tha muggles 'nd caus'd tha Grea' Depressin of America."

"Not, that is an unfounded rumor," Fudge pointed out.

The wizard shook his head. "Grindlewald, 'e said so 'imself, so it be tha truth. Called it 'is 'obby."

"You-Know-Who hates muggles, he wouldn't bother with them," Lucius snarled.

"That be jus' another reason for 'im to toy wi' 'em."

"Why start now," an official beside Fudge asked. "In the last war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named kept strictly to the wizarding world, making sure not even his agents of death, the Death Eaters, made appearances to muggles. He only concerned himself with wizards."

The other unnamed official, a witch, cleared her throat loudly.

"And witches," the first added with a smile.

Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that the witch was none other than Rita Skeeter. Seeing his recognition, Rita winked brazenly before going back to taking notes on the meeting. It wasn't too small a relief to Harry when he saw her taking notes with her own hand instead of using that lying magical notebook to do it for her.

"We still haven't settled the issue of Sirius Black," Remus stated softly but firmly. "That is the main reason why I'm here, at least."

Fudge nodded with a little disgust, probably at having to deal with a werewolf. "Very well. As I said, the dementors are gone, and we still have no idea where they've went. The only other choice we have, aside from killing the villain ourselves—and that's too muggle—is to keep him locked up, though few believe that even Ministry wizards can keep Black from escaping. Goodness knows that if he can escape from Azkaban…"

Remus seemed to wilt. "So…there will be no trial?" Every word sounded painful.

Fudge drew himself up. "I should think not. There's not a single shred of evidence to support his innocence." Harry had to bit his lip to keep from screaming something rather vulgar at the Minister.

"You evaded my question," the Ministry wizard chided slyly, smiling at Remus. "Why would You-Know-Who start to concern himself with muggles when he never has before?"

"I think the answer to your question lies in the boy sitting before you," Dumbledore spoke, quieting the others. He had stayed silent through the argument before.

Again the eyes were back on him. Harry stuttered, "M-me?"

With that trademark smile of his, Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you Harry. Everyone knows that Harry's protection against the Death Eaters—and against Voldemort, himself—comes from those Voldemort considers worse than the dirt on our feet: his only living relatives, the Dursleys, and Lily herself.

"It is common knowledge that Lily was a muggle-born witch, one of those Voldemort specifically targeted through the war. When she died to save Harry, she planted a spell in his very skin that stopped Voldemort from even being able to touch him. This from one who Voldemort considered the very lowest being of life.

"Living with his blood relatives also gives Harry protection against Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters. His house is not only unplottable, it is unenterable without specific welcome into it. There are wards preventing wizards and witches from apparating or disapparating, as well as charms that measure the amount of magic being used in the vicinity. And Harry cannot be forced against his will to leave his house, magically or otherwise. Many Death Eaters that would have remained uncaptured through the years have been caught trying to attack or kidnap Harry before his years at Hogwarts."

During his whole speech, almost every witch or wizard winced with the word "Voldemort."

Dumbledore stared into everyone's faces, like he was trying to measure the amount of trust he saw in them. "That is one reason he is attacking the muggle world: he's venting his frustration at being defeated by a muggle.

"The other reason is because Voldemort enjoys nothing more than tormenting the weak. Who weaker than the magic-less?"

His speech over, Dumbledore fell quiet again. Fudge looked about to say something but the unmentionable strode to the middle of the room, cutting short all conversation as he tilted his head in respect to Dumbledore. "The Ministry has a press conference with several news companies, including the Daily Prophet." Rita gathered all her notes with a wicked smile. "You'll have to excuse us."

Dumbledore nodded, standing to shake everyone's hands. "Minister Fudge, Lucius, Marcus, it was been a pleasure. Miss Skeeter, I've heard that you've changed your ways." Rita smiled and shook his hand. Fudge, Lucius, and Skeeter all made their way to the door, walking down the stairs to leave.

When they left, Remus smiled tightly, walking over to Harry. "Hello, Harry. I haven't seen you since your third year. Snuffles—what a stupid name—tells me that you've had quite a year."

"Professor." Harry began but Remus stopped him.

"Please, just Remus. 'Professor Lupin' makes me feel like an old boggart."

"What happened?" Harry questioned anxiously. "You look like the walking dead."

"Remus, there's a man waiting for you down in Hogsmeade," Professor McGonagall interrupted as she walked into the room. "By the name of Romulus."

Remus paled and stood. "I sorry, Harry, I have to go," he apologized. "That's my brother. But, owl know how to reach me, it you need to talk." He stretched out a hand.

Harry stood as well, bypassing the hand to hug his former teacher. "It's not your fault, you know."

Remus stiffened, then slowly relaxed, returning the hug uncertainly. He stared at Harry a moment before shaking his head in amazement and following McGonagall out the door.

"What's not his fault?" Arthur asked gently.

"Sirius getting captured. I think he blamed himself for that."

Marcus was staring at Harry. "So, you're the famous Harry Potter? From all the stories, I expected some lanky teen looked like trouble unleashed, but you're…" he paused, "… James."

"Harry, this is Marcus Baker, chief head of the Ministry's Department of Mystery," Dumbledore introduced. The two shook hands. "And this is William Croaker, Investigative Wizard also known as an Unmentionable." Croaker nodded in acknowledgement but didn't look the type to shake hands. "The witch on your left is Arabella Figg, and the wizard beside her is Mundungus Fletcher." He stopped to look Harry in the eyes. "Everyone here knew your parents at one time or another, Harry."

All Harry could do was nod, feeling struck and confused.

Dumbledore brought his hands together. "Now Harry, Arthur tells me you've had trouble sleeping."

"Did you notice Snape's not here?" Ron commented as way of greeting when Harry finally got to the Great Hall. He gestured to the empty seat at the teachers' table. "Though maybe he was just walking around, but nobody's seen him. And bloody half of the Slytherins aren't here, either."

Harry pulled out a seat, letting himself fall into it. "Did all the first years get sorted, then?" Hermione's chair was still empty. The rest of the Gryffindor table, the rest of the school, actually, was actively engaged in conversation.

Ron shook his head. "No, there aren't any."

"What?"

"That's what I thought. But none came, like magic just skipped a generation." Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It can't all be a coincidence, now can it? Slytherins not showing up and no first years, not to mention Snape's disappearance-"

He stopped as Hermione raced to the Gryffindor table, hurriedly sliding into her chair. She looked tired, like she'd come off a marathon. Neither boys could say a word because Dumbledore appeared as suddenly as Hermione, choosing that moment to stand at his seat and call out for everyone's attention.

"As some of you may notice," he was saying, "there are two teachers we have missing this year, as well as the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position that has to be replaced. You Potions teacher—and head of the Slytherin House, Professor Snape, has informed me over the summer that he cannot teach this year."

The Slytherins looked confident, like they already knew or were expecting that bit of news.

"Hagrid, teacher of the Care of Magical Creatures, has also been unable to return this year." A ripple of noise went through the Great Hall. "Of course, we'll be sorry to see them go, especially Professor Snape-"

"Yea!" Fred and George cheered.

"But replacement have already been found," Dumbledore continued airily, like he hadn't heard the interruption. "Professor Croaker from the Ministry has agreed to teach Potions this year, becoming the head of the Slytherin House as well. And Charlie Weasley enthusiastically signed up to be our new teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures." He waited for the applause to die down as the two strolled to the staff table, taking their seats.

"You didn't tell us Charlie was teaching," Hermione whispered to Ron.

He shrugged with a grin on his face. "I didn't know either. But… an Unmentionable! Blimey! Never thought one of them would show their faces for more than a day. They're really secretive and all."

"And I'd like to welcome our next teacher to our school. Many of you will know Fleur Delacour from last year's Triwizard Tournament. She asked to teach here at Hogwarts and came highly recommended."

There was a silence as Fleur seemed to descend into the Great Hall, walking silently to the staff table. Suddenly, the room erupted in cheers and screams, boys standing to clap their hands while the girls tried to hide their jealous expressions. Fleur blushed and her conversation with the other teachers was lost to the noise but the nervous look to her face melted away with the students' welcome.

Dumbledore smiled and had to wait several minutes for the noise to die down. "Fleur Delacour has kindly accepted our invitation to teach as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she asks that our students forgive her poor English."

"I'll forgive anything!" some guys yelled from the Hufflepuff table. He was immediately tackled by a raging girlfriend.

"There is a bit of stirring news I must make," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Most of you are unaware as to how Head Boys and Girls are chosen each year. I will try to give you a simplified version of this process but it is basically the same as how the champions were chosen last year for the Tournament. Every six-year student's name is placed within the Sorting Hat, the Hat then being free to sort through the names and choose a single boy and girl who have excelled in their Hogwarts' schooling, in one way or another.

"The process usually takes less than an hour, so the future Heads are informed the end of their sixth year. However, there are some occasions where the Sorting Hat, for various reasons, does not make a selection among the sixth-years." His eyes were glancing around the anxious Great Hall, never staying in one place too long. "There are no logical explanations for these occurrences, as magic is a very shaky thing. Yet, in each of those previous occurrences, there were still only two students chosen and those students were chosen within a few hours.

"The Sorting Hat has been feed with the name of every Hogwarts student and has just an hour ago informed me of this years Head Boys and Head Girls. When I call your name, please rise and come to the staff table to accept your badge."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked down at the parchment slips before him. "Draco Malfoy." The hiss that came with that name was unmistakable. Several Gryffindors stood with loud protests but Malfoy calmly rose from his seat to receive the shiny badge from McGonagall. "Padma Patil." Padma looked like a deep caught in headlights but her table cheered her on, as well as some Gryffindors as her twin leaped to her feet and screamed congratulations.

Everyone started getting nervous when Dumbledore remained standing after the two Heads were chosen, more slips of parchment still in his hands. "Hannah Abbot."

"What?" Hannah blushed as her voice echoed through the Hall but made her shaky way up to the front. She seemed to be making a fuss with McGonagall and looked like she wasn't going to accept the badge until Professor Sprout leaned over and made a discreet comment.

"And Ronald Weasley."

"Ron, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Ron, that's you!" She tugged at his sleeve. "Well, go on." Ron shook his head than half-ran up to the headmaster, looking over dazed. Hermione smiled and whispered to Harry, "I bet he never thought he'd ever be in the spotlight."

"Seeing as I have no more announcements, I'll leave you to eat. Halen-An-Toe, Veri-dum!"

The food appeared and Ron slumped into his chair, staring at the glittering badge in his hands. "Head Boy? I'm a Head Boy?"

"Percy's gonna be berserk," Fred laughed, slapping Ron's back again. The younger brother didn't seem to notice.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I told the really nice folks that asked that I can only update on Thursdays and I was late this week! Sorry!