"Malfoy says they're going to sack Dumbledore," Jack announced to the group gathered in the seventh year dormitory, dumping his bag on the floor and sinking into his bed.
"People have been saying that since start of term," Adrian pointed out.
"Since before start of term," Miles put in. "I heard my mum and dad talking about it over the holidays."
"It's been two weeks without any word about it from Umbridge or the Ministry, though," Zoe noted. "You'd think they'd want to rub it in, if they'd actually found out how to get rid of him."
"Or they'd wait until they're ready to actually do it—try to give themselves the benefit of surprise." At Rissa's comment, they exchanged uncomfortable glances. It was one thing to talk about rumors, another entirely to believe the Ministry actually had the power to remove Dumbledore.
The moment was broken by Andrew walking in, his usually cheerful face twisted into a scowl and a bruise blooming on his cheek.
"Salazar—again?" Adrian asked, Jack levitating the bruise cream they'd gotten from the Weasley twins to Andrew's hand.
"Thanks—and yes, again—every day. It's like they don't know I can hear them talking about me."
"What have they heard, anyway?" Adrian asked the others. "The story about me was that I had anger issues and snapped when my friend died. Wild accusations and all that."
"My Mum and Dad said he'd stolen a bunch of money and things from his parents and was hiding here to avoid a lawsuit," Rissa said, and most of the others nodded.
"My parents aren't really a part of the pureblood rumor mill," Jack said, shrugging.
"My mum said he'd not shown up for a meeting with the Death Eaters and was in hiding from them," Blaise said, his eyes locked on Andrew, who looked deeply uncomfortable.
"That's—why would I have stolen from them? It's my inheritance! I'd be stealing from myself!"
"Fawley." Blaise hadn't lowered his gaze. "Did you or did you not get invited to join the Death Eaters and skip the meeting?"
Andrew didn't respond, which was enough of an answer for them.
"Well shit—no wonder they've been going for your throat." Miles shook his head in disbelief.
"Not to treat you like a child, Andrew, but you've got to start telling us where you'll be when you leave," Rissa told him. He began to protest, but she cut him off—"No—I mean it. I'm not saying you have to take, like, a bodyguard or something. Just that if you don't show up and we have to start looking for you, we'll need a place to start."
"That's cheerful," Zoe said, but didn't argue the point. Andrew looked at the group, seeing faces set in determination.
"Fine—I'll tell you where I'm going. But I'm certainly not taking a bodyguard, so you better not try that."
"You should tell the others, if you feel up to it," Jack said, finally getting words out. "The Slytherin DA members, I mean—Amy, Scarlett, Jake, Daphne…they should know too. Kevin and Astoria…" Jack looked at Miles and shrugged. "That's up to you and Daphne, Miles."
"They deserve to know what they're getting into, being friends with me, you mean," Andrew said, his smile twisting bitterly.
"I don't think you could stop them from that—even Daphne and Jake, and they've only been spending time around here since holidays."
"He means they'll want to look after you, just like we do. That's the whole point of friends, idiot" Adrian said, and for a moment it felt like old times: Andrew in some sort of trouble, Adrian getting him out of it with an eye roll and sarcastic comment. Part of Andrew screamed that Adrian was being hypocritical, but he pushed the thought down—it wasn't the time for that, and he knew it.
"I'll tell them," he promised. "Just…not now. I can't yet."
"Whenever you're ready," Jack said reassuringly. "And whenever that is, we'll be there."
/
DEATH EATERS MOVE IN ENGLAND AND EASTERN EUROPE
Though most papers have failed to mention any reports of Death Eater movement, our sources have informed us that such reports are popping up in increasing number. Though many are false alarms, reliable reports have noted cases of Muggle baiting and destruction in the country's Northeast region, near the coast across from Azkaban prison. With the Ministry ignoring such reports, a potential breakout seems dangerously likely.
Also concerning are the reports of Death Eater activity popping up in Eastern Europe, a region still under the shadow of its history with dark magic. Included in these claims are stories of the Dark Mark popping up over a house in Bulgaria last week. No one had been harmed when authorities investigated, leading some to believe that the mark was meant as a sign of unification, perhaps marking the location of a meeting. At this point, however, we can only speculate the exact meaning of such happenings, the most founded of these speculations being the belief that Lord Voldemort is seeking to raise new followers not only from England, but from all of Wizarding Europe.
We will continue to report on these situations as they unfold.
/
Andrew was sitting in Professor McGonagall's office once again, slumped into the chair opposite her desk, on which was resting a copy of the Daily Prophet bearing the title MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN in bold letters.
"If I was an animagus, I'd be able to hide from them. It would be an extra layer of protection."
"As I've told you, Mr. Fawley, I believe you are capable of completing the process. But given that your father and his…friends could look you up in the public record, that benefit would quickly be lost."
Andrew hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "I wouldn't ask you to help me become an animagus. Only to teach me the theory." McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her eyes boring into him.
"So you are not planning to become an animagus, only to learn what it would take to do so."
"Yeah—that's…yeah, just that." Andrew had no illusions that he was pulling one over on the Professor. He only hoped she'd be willing to help him regardless.
"I see. Luckily, I know exactly what is necessary to become an animagus. We'll plan for tutoring in the subject, then. Advanced theory will help you on your NEWTs, after all." Andrew broke into a grin, realizing that she'd not only agreed, but given him exactly what to say: tutoring in NEWT level theory to prepare for testing. Even Umbridge couldn't complain about it.
"To begin," McGonagall said, bringing three books from her shelf with a flick of her wand. Their covers gave no hint as to what they were about. "I believe some reading is in order. Chapters 1-5 of each before we next meet. Come see me when you're done."
Andrew stood to leave, opening the door to see Filch about to knock.
"It's two of yours again, Professor. Fourth years. Put some Slytherins in the hospital wing unprovoked." Andrew doubted it had actually been unprovoked, but he kept his mouth shut.
"And where, may I ask, are they?"
"Madam Pomfrey wanted to check 'em to see if they'd got any bruises. They'll still be there."
"Very well," McGonagall sighed, looking resigned. Andrew wondered how many times she'd had to meet with her students in the past month alone—as he knew from personal experience, fighting in the halls seemed to have reached an all time high. "When you have finished that reading, Mr. Fawley," she reminded him. Nodding, he left the room, squeezing past Filch to exit and leaving behind a Minerva McGonagall who looked more tired than he'd ever seen her.
/
"Pepper Imp," Cedric said to the gargoyle, stepping on the staircase it revealed and letting it carry him up to the Headmaster's office. He'd received Dumbledore's note Wednesday, delivered to him by morning owl, unusually. The note had few details, only a request for a meeting with Cedric that Friday after his rounds. This was also unusual: Corrie and Cedric had the latest founds on Fridays, so it was well into the night by the time Cedric reached the Headmaster's office.
"Come in," Dumbledore called, just before Cedric's fist hit the door to knock. Lowering his hand to the handle, he pushed the door open.
"Please, have a seat Mr. Diggory." Cedric sat. Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully over his spectacles for a moment before beginning. "Thank you for joining me at such a late hour—When I set the appointment, I wished for it to be at a time you would have no conflicts, something which, on such short notice, is not easily done when one has a schedule as busy as you or I. And it was important that we have this appointment now." Cedric paused, waiting for further explanation as to why they had to meet just then, but Dumbledore offered nothing.
"What do you need from me, sir?"
"Need? I dare say all you have done this year has far exceeded anything I could claim to need from you. I need you only to fulfill the basic duties Head Boy; what I ask of you is, alas, far more. You and Miss Gifford have performed admirably in a time of unrest."
"There's been fighting in the halls ever since holidays," Cedric protested. "It's—chaotic. We haven't been able to do anything about it."
"There is a point," Dumbledore responded, "to which we are able to influence the actions of others. Ultimately, however, their choices are their own. There is much conflict at Hogwarts, it is true; there is also, however, an unusual amount of unity in the face of that conflict—and for that, the credit goes in part to the students of Hogwarts themselves, and in the other part to you and Miss Gifford. I myself, I'm afraid, have been less than effective at enacting changes this year, so focused have I been on ensuring other policies remain the same."
"You mean what the ministry wants to change." It was more of a statement than a question, and Dumbledore inclined his head slightly rather than directly answering.
"Even I may only extend my hand so far, and in times such as these, I must consider where I am able to help the most. You have heard, perhaps, rumblings concerning a group known as the Order of the Phoenix?"
"The twins have mentioned it, but never details," Cedric responded, his interest piqued.
"My involvement with the group is one of the more public of the secrets surrounding it, and a time is fast approaching when that involvement will, by choice or force, take more of my time. That, however, is not why I've asked you here." Dumbledore paused, letting what he had said sink in, then resumed: "A fight is coming, Mr. Diggory, whether we will it or no, and the Order is preparing to face it. When it comes, we wish to have as many people we trust with us as are willing to join us. This is an invitation for you to accept or deny, as you feel is the correct choice for you." Dumbledore sat back, his long fingers folded in his lap: a picture of serenity. Cedric, on the other hand, felt off-balance, his brain swirling with the information.
Dumbledore had invited him to join the fight against Voldemort—Dumbledore trusted him—he could be a hero…and then, with these, bits of reality. Dumbledore thought he would have to spend more time with the Order soon—leaving Hogwarts to do so. He had a clear view of the bigger picture that Cedric couldn't claim, lacking the experiences and time it took to gain such a perspective. But, Cedric thought, he had a unique perspective too. He was one of the students, had seen the lives of his friends be affected by the Ministry's inaction, little pieces in a larger game too inconsequential for the notice of organizations like the Order, who saw only the enemy they had to fight. Dumbledore, inarguably brilliant and firmly committed to working for the good of the Wizarding world, had lost sight of the individuals who made it up. Cedric, young and unimpressive as he might be, still had that, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice it.
"Thank you for asking me," he said, and could tell the Headmaster already knew what was coming next. "I will never bow to Voldemort or submit to a world ruled by him. But I also have to decline your offer. This fight…I have to find my own place in it."
"Of course, Mr. Diggory. I wish you the best—and should you ever change your mind—"
"I'll know who to talk to," Cedric responded, attempting a smile. "If that's all—good night, sir."
"Sleep well, Mr. Diggory."
Cedric lay in bed staring unblinkingly at the canopy overhead for hours that night, replaying the conversation over and over and trying to ignore the mounting sense of dread filling his stomach.
/
"Johnston—Steele—he shoots and…an incredible block from Slytherin Keeper Bletchley! Bletchley passes to Fawley, who sends the Quaffle to Montague—he catches it this time, looks like they've gotten over their spat from earlier—oh! a bludger from Carusco knocks the Quaffle from Montague's hands—Urquhart beats Johnston, Slytherin keeps possession—a pass to Fawley—it's good! Fawley scores, Davies looking—" How Roger Davies was looking, no one knew, because at that moment, Carl Hopkins broke into the commentator's box, urgently whispering something to Lee Jordan, who looked shocked.
"The Minister has come to sack Dumbledore…" Carl continued talking, gesticulating wildly, Lee announcing the message as he heard it. "They're citing mismanagement and failure to maintain order—well we all know that's a load of shit—they've actually attempted to take him away for an investigation an—Merlin, really? He's just disappeared, no one knows where to." The stadium was in chaos. Both teams had stopped playing, listening to the news instead, the Quaffle hovering a few inches above the ground by the Ravenclaw goals, forgotten. Only the Ravenclaw beaters were still active, making sure the bludgers stayed away from the other players. The stands were filled with students shouting over one another and pushing their ways down the stairs, running to the castle to see if it was true. The teachers had finally sprung to action, Professor Vector snatching the microphone from Lee Jordan and attempting to calm everyone down.
If the Ministry had hoped to keep Dumbledore's removal quiet by doing it when half of the school was at a Quidditch match, they'd failed. The message—brought from Fred Weasley to the Gryffindor common room, from which point Carl Hopkins had grabbed his broom and flown to the stadium and Lee Jordan while George Weasley ran off to tell the Hufflepuffs—spread like wildfire. Regardless, by the end of the night, one thing was certain: begun in chaos or not, Dolores Umbridge's reign as Headmaster had begun.
Albus Dumbledore was gone.