Aurors Part V
"…Thus, the public must surely be concerned about the advisability of leaving known Death Eaters in the hands of creatures that might easily join You-Know-Who. We can only hope that Minister Fudge will listen to the brave Ministry officials who have challenged him again to remove the Dementors from Azkaban and replace them with completely loyal Hit Wizards." Jenny put down her quill and surveyed her work. She gave a sigh of satisfaction. She had always thought she could write, and this latest article only proved it.
Professor McGonagall had asked her, when she had been at Hogwarts for Dumbledore's meeting, to write a series of articles for the Daily Prophet supporting Dumbledore's position on issues. Jenny had agreed, not sure how McGonagall was going to get the Prophet to publish such things, but they had been appearing on schedule as she'd written them and seemed to be causing quite a stir. There had been several negative comments, but on the whole there was an air of 'finally, someone other than Rita Skeeter talking about things that matter!'. Of course, she was using a pen name; too many people would see 'Black' and think of Sirius and never read another word.
Jenny picked up the parchment, fanned it dry, folded it, and gave it to her owl, Sparks. He flew off out the open window and off toward London. Jenny sighed and watched him go.
It had been a week and a half since Sirius and Remus had left on whatever crazy mission they were on this time, and she hadn't heard from them at all since then. Had she been too hard on Sirius? Perhaps it was cruel of her to have said what she had so soon after their reunion. But the truth was, he'd always been rather thoughtless, and she hadn't seen any difference in him since he'd come back.
So why do I love him, then? She couldn't answer herself; all that she knew was that she did love him, no matter how angry he made her. She knew how lonely and lost she had felt without him… but still, it had needed saying, and she was glad she'd said it. She just hoped he would have thought things over properly and understand what she meant when he came back. When he did, she had a few more words for him… but they were mostly, "I love you, Sirius." She hoped he knew that.
Flying northward over mountains and lakes, Sirius' mind was frequently on Jenny, but his thoughts were far more confused than hers were. She had been rather upset, to say the least, and he was not sure whether she really wanted him to come back or not. Remus knew something was bothering him but Sirius had refused to discuss it at all. It was rather hard to concentrate on the job Dumbledore had given him when he really wanted to be thinking about Jenny. Which reminded him of something else; why on earth had Dumbledore given them this task? Surely anyone could have done this; it didn't take the two of them. They could have been working on tracking down Voldemort or his Death Eaters; instead they were doing owls' work! What could Dumbledore have to say to Acimovic or whatever his name was? What could be that important?
Thinking of that letter brought back memories of another letter, one that had caused him plenty of trouble, years and years ago….
(past)
Jenny had only managed to get one day off from her job. "It's that Fudge," she'd explained, pushing her hair from her eyes exasperatedly. "He likes people to think he controls something. He doesn't, really, but it's his power to make me work normal hours. I managed to get today off by promising to work Saturday and Sunday, but he said he can't possibly get anyone to cover for me tomorrow or Wednesday."
"That's all right," Sirius assured her. "We can go flying like I promised you. It's supposed to be overcast, so we needn't worry about being spotted."
"I can pack us a picnic," she enthused. "We'll make a day of it."
"Sounds fun. I've got to get my bike, of course, and I'd better check the spells on it, but we can start this afternoon, one-ish?"
"I'll be ready," she promised.
Sirius almost always wore Muggle clothes while flying the motorbike; robes were a bit unhandy to ride in. He had a black leather outfit that the storeowner had promised him was quite the style to wear while biking. He never wore a helmet or indeed any type of protection at all, though he was careful to check the spells that made it fly before taking it up, and he tinkered with it constantly to keep it running smoothly.
At precisely five past one, he landed the bike in front of Jenny with practiced precision. She grinned and climbed on the back, giving him a small opaque bag to take care of.
"This is it?" he said doubtfully, looking at it. Jenny laughed.
"Don't be stupid, there's a lot more in there than you think. Come on, are we going?"
"Of course," he said, and kicked the bike to life. It leapt into the air with a roar, as if it were alive and eager to reach the sky. Jenny's hands on his shoulders tightened, then relaxed as the bike leveled out, hundreds of feet above the ground.
They flew forward and the bike began to climb again, but more slowly. Soon they were above the clouds and in bright sunlight. The wheels skimmed the clouds as they turned, rather uselessly, and the roar of the engine was the only sound that could be heard. Even it was rather muffled in the stillness they flew in. They were the only things moving, and it felt as if they were standing still. Only the air whipping their faces and hair told them otherwise.
Jenny had let go of him a few minutes back; now she leaned forward and shouted something.
"What's that?" Sirius yelled back.
"I said, it's very nice up here," she repeated.
"Ah. Yes, it is." He caught a glimpse of her reflection in the instrument display and was pleased to see her widely grinning.
"Remember not to let your leg touch the exhaust pipe," he yelled back. "It'll be burning by now."
"Why'd you bother to keep the Muggle systems, anyway?" she shouted, in an interested sort of voice.
"Works better that way," he answered. "And it runs the Muggle way too, on the ground, you know. Could come in handy sometime."
"I suppose," she yelled doubtfully. "But the levitation charm works like a dream."
"Yes, I fixed that up today. Last time it was rather bumpy getting off the ground." That was the end of the conversation; both of them simply relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
Sirius really did enjoy taking Jenny for flights, and it wasn't just because he loved flying the motorcycle. It was also a very, very good excuse to spend several hours very close to her, alone. She was also one of the few people he knew who liked the motorcycle. James did, of course; he'd helped Sirius rebuild it and make it fly, and liked flying it across the sky at night, making Muggles below scratch their heads and wonder. Remus had come up only twice and hadn't said much about it either way. Peter had flat out refused to get on it, and Lily, though she had gamely agreed to try, hadn't really liked it. "I just don't feel as secure as I do on a broom," she'd explained.
"That's the point," Sirius had tried to tell her, but she'd just looked at him as if he were crazy.
Jenny loved flying. She'd told him so several times. He offered once to teach her how to fly the bike herself, but she'd turned him down.
"I'd rather just be a passenger," she'd told him. "And you take me up quite a lot, so I think I'll just let you fly that." She looked at it askance. "Besides, somehow I feel like it's alive… and I don't know how it would react to anyone else flying it." They'd both laughed at that, but she was right, the motorbike did seem alive, sometimes.
They picnicked in a little grove of trees surrounded by wide fields and meadows. No one else was anywhere near. After eating they waded in a little stream at the foot of the hill where the grove stood.
"If it were a little deeper we could swim," Sirius suggested, but Jenny laughed.
"It's far too cold, Sirius. We'd freeze in this water."
Finally it was too dark to see much beyond their feet, so reluctantly they headed back. Sirius jumped off and helped Jenny dismount.
"Thank you, Sirius," she said. "That was a lovely ride."
"I enjoyed it," he said. "Maybe next time we can fly up to Scotland or somewhere."
"That would be nice," she agreed. They stood there for a minute. Then she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but it's rather late and I have to get up early tomorrow, so I'm just going to say goodnight."
"All right," he said. "Maybe next time I can get time off over a weekend, or Fudge will be more cooperative with you."
"Yes," she said, sighing. "That would be nice." Sirius kissed her and she went in, turning at the door to smile at him. "I hope your next assignment goes well." Then she went inside and shut the door.
Sometime that night Sirius had a revelation. He thought he knew who had changed the letter. He'd do something about it tomorrow.
"James, you fooled with that letter I wrote Jenny, didn't you?" Sirius asked the next day when he met James for lunch, as they'd arranged.
"What on earth are you talking about?" James looked puzzled. "What letter?"
"The one I wrote while we were in Romania," he pressed. "When Jenny got it it was full of this horrible sickly stuff like you write, and she thinks I really wrote it. So now she expects me to write like that – what are you laughing about?"
"I told you so, Padfoot," James gasped out, slapping his hand on the table. "Girls like that stuff."
"Why did you do that to me?" Sirius demanded.
"I didn't." James held up a hand. "I swear I never did a thing to that letter."
"But then who did?" Sirius frowned in concentration. "Let's see. The post office? No, that was a Muggle thing, they couldn't do that…"
"What about Remus? He posted the letters," James reminded him,
"Remus?" Sirius looked skeptical. "Why would he – but – where is he?"
"I don't know." Now it was James' turn to frown. "I saw him once yesterday, but he didn't even notice me. He was talking to some girl."
"Same thing the other night," Sirius remembered. "That Reesa Darrel he was dancing with at the Starfire Room."
"That's who she was," James agreed. "He seemed rather fascinated by her."
"I'll say." Sirius grinned wickedly. "Moony in love, at last. What should we do to make him miserable?"
"Sirius, when we were at school you gave me nothing but grief about Lily,"
"You've got to admit you were pretty sappy over her – you still are – "
"You teased Peter to death the one time he tried to ask a girl out. And now you want to torment Remus… but none of us give you a hard time about Jenny, and we could, you know."
"So you're all decent human beings." Sirius shrugged his shoulder. "I've never pretended that I was."
"Look, I'll make you a deal. You leave Remus alone about this Reesa, and I'll find out who changed your letter and why."
Sirius thought for a minute. "And you'll help me figure out a way out of this mess?" he added.
"All right – I'll try."
"Fine. It's a deal."
Remus woke to the knocking on his door. He looked at the book he'd been reading before he fell asleep on the sofa. It had fallen to the floor. He picked it up before straightening, yawning, and walking to the door.
James was standing on the steps. He had been leaning an elbow on the door and trying to look in the window; when Remus pulled the door open he almost lost his balance.
"Oh, hello, Remus," he said after catching himself. "I was getting worried. It took forever for you to answer."
"I was asleep," Remus said shortly. He opened the door wider and James came in. "Er – is there something the matter?"
"Sirius thinks there is." James grinned at him. Remus' heart lurched; they've found out about Reesa and are worried about me. Don't they think I can look after myself?
They both sat down; Remus back on the couch he'd just risen from, James in an armchair across from him. "It seems that someone, ah, improved the letter Sirius wrote to Jenny while we were in Romania." James snickered. "I wish I'd seen it; he seemed fairly horrified. Anyway, I thought you might know something about it."
Remus smiled, partly from thinking about the letter and partly because it seemed James didn't know about Reesa yet. "What makes you think that?" he asked.
"Because I wasn't the one who changed the letter, Moony." James was trying very hard not to laugh, but finally failed. "Oh, you should have seen him! This gets him back for every 'lovesick deer' comment he ever made!" He slapped the arm of his chair to emphasize his words.
"Sure, you didn't change the letter," Remus agreed, laughing himself. "But it was your idea!"
"Oh, that's right, so it was." James wore an air of mock puzzlement, rubbing his chin with his hand. "I can't imagine how that slipped my mind when I was talking to Sirius."
"So tell me what he said," Remus leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Did it go as well as we'd hoped?"
"I'm not sure – but from what he says, Jenny hasn't got a clue and is expecting similar letters next time. He's properly panicked over that one."
"What is he going to do to us when he finds out?" Remus asked, still smiling. He didn't seem too worried about it.
"Oh, I let him think you did it all by yourself." James grinned.
"It was completely your idea! You get at least half the blame. I'd never have thought of anything so – mean."
"Sure, sure. What did you do to it, anyway? You never bothered to tell me."
"Just a Cyrano Charm. Had our friend ever paid attention in class, he might have realised what it was, but there was no danger there." Remus was still grinning, but it faded as James' expression turned graver.
"Ah, Remus, when Lily and I were out on Diagon Alley yesterday afternoon, I thought I saw you there."
"Really? I never saw you," Remus said, rather inanely.
"Not surprising. I think you had more interesting company." James was smiling now. "Tell me about her, Remus." When Remus didn't say anything, he urged, "Come on, you can tell me, after all."
"Her name is Reesa Darrel," Remus said slowly. "You saw her with me at the Starfire Room that night."
"Yes, so I know she's a wonderful dancer and quite pretty. What else?"
"Her parents were killed by Voldemort. All she has left is an older brother. He works for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. She went to Beauxbatons, and she's very kind and considerate." Remus was glowing as red as sunset.
"You've spent a lot of time with her over the last few days, then?" James asked slowly.
"Some," Remus admitted. "She's wonderful, James. Yesterday we spent the whole day together, just talking. I promised to meet her tonight for dinner, too."
"What else? What is she like, what does she do?" James looked at Remus. "Remus, I'm not being nosy, really I'm not. It's just, you're my friend, and if she matters this much to you I want to know her too."
"I want you to meet her, James, you and Lily especially. And Sirius, of course, but I don't know if they'll get along at first. She's rather gentle and – well, you know how Sirius is." Remus shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair.
"I'll talk to Sirius," James promised grimly. "He'll behave himself when he meets this Reesa of yours."
"She's not my Reesa," Remus protested, glowing still brighter.
"Don't worry, Remus," James said, standing up. "We don't have to meet her until you're ready for us to. Now, I'd stick around longer but Lily says she found a house she thinks would be perfect for us and I promised to go with her tonight."
"It's about time for me to get ready anyway," Remus said, standing as well. "Ah, thanks, James."
"For what?" James looked genuinely puzzled.
"Just thanks. Oh, and don't tell Sirius the truth about the letter unless I'm there – I want to see."
"Right. See you tomorrow, anyway."
"Yes."
As Remus prepared to go meet Reesa, he found himself wondering about her. Might he be in love? He knew he felt a way about her he'd never felt about any woman. He just liked being with her, liked talking to her. She seemed to like spending time with him, too.
But he knew that if he really did love her he'd have to tell her the truth about himself, soon. After all, he couldn't very well ask her to marry him if she didn't know what he truly was.
Hold on there, Remus, he told himself. You've had a few dates with her and all of a sudden are thinking about marriage? Not so fast there. Give it some time.
But when he saw her face light up with a smile as he met her and as the evening flew by with her at his side, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd ever want to marry.
It was late that night when he left her on her doorstep.
"I'm getting another assignment tomorrow," he said.
"I know," Reesa replied. "Do you know when you'll get back?"
"I'm afraid not," he said. "I'd like to see you when I do, though."
"I'd like that too," she said, but a shadow had crossed behind her eyes. "I have a few things now and then that I have to do, though, but if I'm able, yes, I'd love that."
"Good," he said. "I'll be looking forward to it."
"Well, goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight."
The next assignment was not as hard as their first, but neither was it as interesting. The Ministry had some brilliant master plan, no doubt, which required the three of them to do a lot of traveling around delivering sealed packages. When Sirius asked an official what exactly they were doing he was brushed off with a noncommittal answer. But it did result in them seeing a lot of different parts of England, including probably every pub patronized by wizards in the country. About half the contacts seemed to spend their entire life in bars.
The first night out, James and Remus confessed to Sirius what had happened to his letter. Sirius was furious.
"How could you?" he asked. "Do you know what Jenny is going to do to me when she finds out that I didn't write that letter? Stop laughing!" For the other two were by now howling with mirth.
"Sorry, Sirius," James said, wiping his eyes at last, "but you've got to remember how badly you've gotten us in some of your pranks. Time for a taste of your own potion, I think."
"Look, Sirius, we told you that you really had to improve your letters," Remus said, reasonably. "From what you've said, Jenny really liked that letter."
Sirius grinned, remembering something. "Yeah, you could say that," he admitted. "But how am I supposed to write that sort of stuff?"
"Take a correspondence course," James suggested. "How To Write Love Letters In Six Easy Lessons."
"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea," Sirius growled. "No, I've got it. Since Remus messed me up in the first place, he can just put that spell on every letter."
"I'm afraid that won't work," Remus laughed. "She'd see through it fast enough – that kind of charm never works right for long. No, you'll just have to do it yourself."
From the horrified look on Sirius' face, Remus might have just said that he'd just have to cut off both legs with a dull knife and feed them to the giant squid.
"It's not that bad," James said, trying to cheer Sirius up. "I manage, after all." Here Sirius muttered something about 'lovesick' 'brainless' and 'impossible'. "Or we could just tell Jenny that Remus really wrote that letter."
"Uh, no." Sirius vetoed this flatly. "I'll figure out something." And he stalked out of the bar. James and Remus saw no more of him that night.
When they came down to breakfast, Sirius was sitting at a table, reading a book and occasionally scribbling something.
"What on earth is that?" James asked, sliding into a chair next to him.
"I'm writing a letter," Sirius said, closing the book and trying to hide it. Remus grabbed it.
" 'Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow: Love Letters Throughout the Ages'. Sirius, what is this?"
"Ah, well, I figured that if they were in a book they were probably pretty sappy," Sirius said, snatching the book back. "I'm just taking a few lines from each one in case she's read any of the letters before."
"Okay," James said, rolling his eyes. "That's cheating, you know."
"Not if I don't get caught." Sirius finished the line he was on and signed it with his typical sloppy scrawl. "There. I'll post it before we leave this morning."
James and Remus caught each other's eyes and sighed silently. They had a feeling that Sirius was getting in over his head. But what were they supposed to do?
(present)
Night was the time Voldemort liked best. Darkness hid his deeds and the comings and going of his Death Eaters. At night the Dark Mark could flare across the sky with greatest impact. And darkness was a friend to him, for it made his enemies feel small and afraid. That was how he liked them best.
Wormtail had remained at his side constantly since his rebirth. He wasn't really sure why he kept the little man scurrying around; it might be best just to have him killed on some task. Certainly he was very little use.
Yet his Animagus form could be very useful, very useful indeed. And Voldemort knew that Wormtail, unlike certain other of his servants, would never dare to try to disobey him. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, bore watching. Malfoy was strong and cunning, and prideful enough to possibly be thinking that he would make a better Lord. Yet he was still perhaps the most capable of the servants…
But there would be more soon, Voldemort knew. He'd sent emissaries out to many potential allies, human and not. Someday very soon he would rule… someday soon Harry Potter would kneel before him for the last time.
Dumbledore strode through the office of the Minister of Magic and people shrank back. Gone was the sparkle from his eyes, gone was the half-smile from his lips, the air of vague amusement from his demeanor. Now his eyes blazed with fire and anyone who met his gaze felt either afraid or strangely reassured.
"A terrible sight," one person said later.
"Yes, terrible, but wonderful at the same time," someone else said. "Like – I don't know. Like nothing I've ever seen before – and I don't reckon I ever want to see it again, even if it was wonderful."
But Cornelius Fudge didn't seem to see anything wonderful in the expression that greeted him. His secretary tried to tell Dumbledore that the Minister was very busy, was not to be disturbed, but he paid her no mind and strode right in.
"Dumbledore," Fudge said miserably from behind his desk. He was rather greenish looking and looked absolutely terrified. "I suppose you've heard the news. It's not as bad as it sounds, really, Albus, it's not-"
"You refused to listen to me," Dumbledore said slowly. His words were like stones, dropping slowly and heavily. "You did not remove the Dementors from Azkaban when I asked, nor when Ministry officials asked. Now they have done as I told you they would. They have joined Voldemort and taken his supporters with them."
"I – I know Albus, and I'll admit that you were right there. But they haven't taken all the prisoners by any means – and we don't know yet that they've joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Fudge had fallen back on his primary line of defense, blustering. He knew that the Dementors must have joined Voldemort. He just couldn't admit it.
"Where else would they have gone?" Dumbledore's words were like ice now, cold and solid and frightening. Fudge turned an even paler shade of green, gulped, and said,
"We don't really know yet… I suppose you're probably right… but they've left a good deal of the prisoners!" The way he spoke made it sound as if the fact that they had not taken all the prisoners proved he was right to have left them at Azkaban, but his face revealed his true feelings.
"Prisoners who are too far gone to be of use even to Voldemort," Dumbledore stated. "They've taken his most dedicated supporters, Fudge. The Lestranges, Dolohov, Travers, Mulciber, Rookwood…all the ones who went to Azkaban rather than renounce him. The ones who specialized in the Unforgivable Curses, who tortured Muggles for pleasure. You've given him back his most loyal servants. Now watch how fast he will rise."
"Dumbledore – please – you've got to help me!" Fudge's face had gone white. "When the public gets word of this I'll lose my office for certain!"
"Is that all you can think of?" Dumbledore's eyes had been blazing before; now they seemed to light his whole face with righteous wrath. "Is that all? We are facing the worst crisis in years and all you are concerned with is your position? It's not yet too late, I hope, to save our world - but it's too late for you, Cornelius. I warned you before what choices faced you, and you chose not to listen. Now you pay the price." He turned and strode from the room.
"Albus – please – wait!" Fudge called after him, but he did not turn. Fudge sank down into his chair, staring at a stack of papers. "What am I going to do?" he muttered to himself. "Oh, what can I do?"
Hundreds of miles away in England, it was already past dawn. Sunlight shone down on Number Four Privet Drive, shone right in the window of Harry's room and into his eyes. He yawned, blinked, and stretched, hopping out of bed as soon as he was awake enough. Harry pulled up the loose floorboard and looked at his supply of food; he wanted to have a good breakfast here so that when he went downstairs he could leave half the meager amount of food Aunt Petunia offered him on his plate. This always angered Dudley greatly.
Munching on the last of his chocolate frogs, he got dressed. It was nearly his birthday, his fifteenth birthday. He hadn't heard from any of his friends in ages, it seemed, although Hermione had sent him a letter full of newspaper clippings a week before. Someone was certainly writing about events and issues in a way that seemed reasonable to Harry. He wondered if Dumbledore might not be behind it. Some of the articles called for the removal of Dementors, others asked the Ministry to step up its training program for Aurors and increase the number of Hit Wizards currently employed. From what he had heard, Fudge was ignoring most of those suggestions, just as he had ignored Dumbledore's advice.
As if Harry's thoughts had been a Summoning Charm, Hedwig flew in the window, accompanied by another owl. They held a large box between them which Harry tore open immediately. It was sweets from the Weasleys; mostly Mrs. Weasley's homemade food, but also a few boxes of Harry's favorite wizarding sweets, and a letter from Ron.
Dear Harry,
Hope the Muggles aren't feeding you too little. Here's some more stuff- the sweets are from Fred and George. They're celebrating because they sold the idea for a few of their minor inventions to Gambol and Japes. Say they're working on more top-secret stuff for their own shop, but the figured they'd see how things sell on the general market.
Dad's having very little luck at the Ministry. He went to some top secret meeting ten days ago and won't tell me anything. But Fudge won't listen at all. Dad got about a hundred Ministry officials on that petition of his to get rid of the Dementors, and it had great press coverage – did you see that article?- but Fudge just won't listen.
Mum says to cheer up, and that if you've got any problems with the Dursleys she and Dad will come and turn them into bats. Rather a reverse in positions for her, but I told her about how they treat you… I think she'd adopt you if she could! And hopefully you can come and stay with us soon.
Let me know how you are,
Ron.
He'd also included some news clippings. The first one Harry read was a rather interesting piece which simply asked if the Ministry had really found all the real Death Eaters fourteen years ago. Another was talking about the rights of werewolves and giants. Harry rather hoped Hagrid had seen this one, as it contained lines about 'anyone who has attended Hogwarts in the past few decades will remember Hagrid, the kind, thoughtful, animal-loving gamekeeper who happens to have giant blood in him' and other such phrases. The last article demanded a look at the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, saying it sent people to Azkaban far too easily. 'Several people have been sent without a trial' one line read, and 'Perhaps it is time our entire judicial system is reexamined. It is outmoded, outdated, and archaic.'. Harry wondered about the writer – the author was the same on all three pieces, and on most of those Hermione had sent him as well, a woman named 'Silence Dogood'. It was obviously a pseudonym, and Harry wondered who was really writing the articles, and why.
He heard noises from downstairs and reluctantly laid the letter aside. He'd best be going downstairs if he wanted to be in time to annoy Dudley over breakfast.
Minerva McGonagall was not having a good day. First Dumbledore had left to speak to the Minister of Magic about the Dementors. Then about a hundred owls had arrived for him, all of which were now flitting around his study and occasionally getting into fights with Fawkes. Then Snape had come in to tell her to tell Dumbledore that he was 'off as they had discussed', whatever that meant. Hagrid should have been back days ago and wasn't. Madam Pomfrey kept asking questions about whether she should buy an extra-large supply of healing potions, seeing as it looked as if they might come in handy. And now Trelawney was sitting in her office, maundering on about how someone had been playing with her equipment. McGonagall had very little patience for the other woman at the best of times, and now she was simply not in a good mood.
"Who would have broken into your tower?" she asked reasonably. "There are no students here, and you surely don't think a teacher?"
"No," Trelawney allowed in her stupid, ethereal voice, passing a hand across her face. "No doubt it was an astral spirit come to warn me… I simply wished to know whether you had encountered anything similar recently."
"I don't need astral spirits to warn me of anything," McGonagall said sharply. "And if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."
But Trelawney had gone white and her eyes stared unseeing across the room.
"Are you all right?" McGonagall asked, getting up and walking over. "What's happening?"
Trelawney's mouth opened.
"Greater than before, he has risen. His enemies are divided still, and he works to sow discord among them. Yet the seeds of his defeat are also sown, but whether they shall grow is not yet revealed. The past holds the key to the present, and the present shall shape the future. Beware, for time runs short."
McGonagall stared at Trelawney. She couldn't think of anything to do or say. Suddenly Trelawney sat upright.
"What was that?" she asked. "I don't think I heard your last comment…"
"Ah," McGonagall began. "Ah, I have some work to do here, so if you'll just allow me to attend to it…" Trelawney was miffed but left. As soon as she had, McGonagall sat down and wrote out the words she had just heard. She knew Trelawney couldn't see the future – but she also rather thought she knew a genuine prophecy when she heard one. Dumbledore would want to hear about this.
The plot is thickening, and I almost know where it's going! Yippee!
Let's have proper credit where it's due. J.K. Rowling, as everyone on this planet and maybe a few others knows, thought up Harry Potter on a train, and so whatever's in the books is hers. The other stuff is mostly mine. Thanks to everyone who gave me input on this.
I managed to spell 'Durmstrang' wrong last time – thanks for pointing that out, Dr. Cornelius! I blame the sister who had hidden GoF. At least it's right this time.
More coming soon, I promise!