________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harry didn't get the chance to talk to Sirius. Madam Pomfrey had swept into the ward, rubbing sleep from her eyes, seconds after Professor 'Harrison' had left. With his brain already reeling Harry decided to avoid taking further risks and sneak back to Gryffindor tower. Perhaps he could rise early and get to his godfather before he was whisked away.
Much to Harry's gratitude the Fat Lady was snoozing in her picture when he got back to the common room.
Unfortunately, he had forgotten about Peeves.
"STUDENT OUT OF BED!" The poltergeist had been waiting up by the ceiling and began screaming the moment he heard Harry trying to wake the Fat Lady up. "STUDENT OUT OF BED IN GRYFFINDOR TOWER!"
The Fat Lady snapped awake. "What on earth--"
"Leo, leo!" hissed Harry.
"Who's there?" The Fat Lady peered at Harry as she swung aside.
Peeves cackled, swooping around and around. "Gonna get in trouble now, naughty, naughty student. You're supposed to be good on Christmas Day..."
Harry dove through the hole in the wall but didn't bother to catch himself. His chin skidded painfully along the floor.
It was Christmas. Harry quickly picked himself up and ran over to the clock. Yes, five till ten. There were about two hours of it left.
"Oh, my God," whispered Harry, dumbstruck, letting the cloak slide off of him. He had completely forgotten.
Peeves was making more noise out in the hall. Harry bolted up into the boys' dormitory and threw himself onto his bed, drawing the curtains. He lay there for several minutes, sweaty and quivering, before he dared to move. Cautiously he slid through the hangings to the floor and went around to the foot of his four-poster. Yes, there they were, a nice-sized pile of presents. Harry let out a breath of disbelief, grabbed the lot of them, and retreated behind the hangings again.
"Lumos." He began quietly unwrapping his gifts. Hermione had sent him a box that depicted the Golden Snitch on its lid. Beneath it were the words:
The Practice Snitch: An exact replica of the real thing.
It zips, dives, and confuddles!
Used by professional Seekers the world over.
There was a card included with a picture of Hermione and her family. Harry smiled sheepishly when he caught himself wondering why the people didn't move before he read the card.
Dear Harry,
I hope you like the present. I know you have Quidditch practice anyway so the Snitch is already supplied, but maybe you could use it in your spare time or during vacation. Are you studying for your O.W.L.s?
Merry Christmas!
Hermione
P.S. If Sirius finally wrote back, tell him Merry Christmas for me.
Sirius. Harry let the card fall out of his hands before dropping back onto the bed. The initial shock of suddenly remembering the most anticipated holiday of the year had evaporated, and with it the desire to see the rest of his presents. They would still be there tomorrow, and the day after. Sirius might not be.
A thousand questions ran through Harry's mind as he slowly began to sink into sleep. His thoughts and dreams became blurred. The last thing he remembered before yielding to slumber was the image of Sirius crying, head buried in his arms. But then his godfather looked up and it wasn't Sirius, it was Snape.
****
Harry didn't go to breakfast that morning. He crept into the secret passageway behind the landscape and sat on the top of the spiral stairs, sustaining himself on some of Mrs. Weasley's fudge. It brought a sad smile to his face to think that despite troubles at home the kind woman found time to knit a sweater and make sweets for him.
Ron's letter made his smile vanish.
Harry,
Merry Christmas. I'm sorry I couldn't get you anything. I'm saving all the money I have in case Dad might need it. It's all I can give.
There's trouble in the Ministry. Percy is being worse than ever. He came home just to drop off a few gifts and say hello to Mum. He didn't even look at Dad. I almost wish I never came back. Percy's not measuring cauldrons anymore; he's made his way into Fudge's (that prat) inner circle. Fudge wants to persecute Dumbledore and put someone else in charge of Hogwarts. He still can't see that You-Know-Who is back. Neither can Percy. Dad's fighting for all he's worth at work.
Ron's handwriting got darker, messier, angrier. In several places the ink had been smudged by suspicious looking wet spots.
I thought I should warn you, Fudge is sending someone over from the Ministry sometime after Christmas to investigate Rysk. You should have seen his face when he heard about her. Never thought anyone could go that purple.
See you soon.
Ron
Harry slowly folded the letter back up, staring blankly ahead at nothing. "God, Ron," he whispered to the air. "I'm sorry."
Harry felt completely, utterly helpless. His friend's family was coming apart at the seams and there was nothing he could do. Lupin was in trouble and Sirius was in pain and Voldemort was risen and there was nothing he could do. What made it so damnably frustrating was that everyone acted as though Harry himself were at the center of it all somehow. And there was still nothing he could do.
He reached up and touched the scar in the middle of his forehead. That legendary, revered scar. And for what? What did it do?
"Nothing," hissed Harry viciously, throwing Ron's letter down on top of the box of fudge and stalking down the stairs. "Not one damn thing except hurt. Is it supposed to warn me?" He was shouting now. "Did it warn me about Cedric? Did it? Did it save his life? What's the bloody point? What's the bloody goddamn point?!" Harry slammed his fist into the railing and swore as pain lanced through his hand. "Damn it."
He felt as though he were sleepwalking as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, cradling his bruised hand. As he stepped onto the stone tiles a flurry of muffled voices came through the wall that separated him from the rest of the school. Harry's brow furrowed as he pressed his ear against the hidden door.
"What is the meaning of this?" came McGonagall's distant, annoyed voice.
"We're here on Ministry business, Professor. If you please, where's Albus Dumbledore? We'd like a word."
"We were aware of no such appointment."
"You may not be, but I'm sure the Headmaster is...please, Professor, there's nothing to be alarmed about."
Harry's eyes widened. He spun around and began sprinting up the staircase two steps at a time. Never before had the twisting banister seemed so long. It was fortunate that Quidditch practice had gotten him back into shape; still, he was nearly out of breath by the time he tumbled through the picture. Without pausing Harry dashed through the castle, heedless of the danger of running into Filch. He simply had to get to Sirius before the Ministry got too close.
"Madam Pomfrey!" He burst into the hospital ward, red in the face and out of breath.
"What?" came the nurse's bemused voice as she stepped out of her office. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"The Ministry." Harry pointed vaguely. "The Ministry's here."
Madam Pomfrey's eyes went wide. Before she could say a word a voice behind Harry snapped, "What's going on here? Potter, what are you doing out of your common room?"
Harry spun around to see Snape's black robes. "Professor--"
"Severus," said Pomfrey tersely, touching Snape's elbow. Harry saw the Potions master automatically flinch away. "The Ministry's here."
"Get him out," said Harry urgently, struggling not to yell at the two adults. He motioned frantically in the direction of Sirius's room. "We have to get him out of here."
"Potter--" Harry was pulled bodily to a stop by Snape, who had a death grip on his injured shoulder. He winced and pulled away.
"What?"
"It'll be safer to keep him here." Snape glanced back at Madam Pomfrey for confirmation before looking to Harry. "Did they say what they wanted?"
Harry shook his head. "I didn't hear much--they wanted to talk to Dumbledore." Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Harry thought he saw thinly veiled worry erase the sneer from Snape's face. For the first time he wondered exactly how much the rest of the staff knew of Fudge's intentions for Hogwarts. The Potions master looked around, at a loss. "The Headmaster sent me to bring Black to his office," he said, sounding almost uncertain. "He's contacted the rest of the Order and needs him present..."
"Well, marching him into Albus's office doesn't look like a good idea, does it?" snapped Pomfrey. She, too, looked more than uneasy, even a bit pale. "You go to him, Severus, I'll look after Sirius."
The nurse's words seemed to bring Snape back. "Yes, yes." He turned and began walking off without a word.
Harry watched Madam Pomfrey hurrying to Sirius's room, torn. He bit his lip, then wheeled about and ran after Snape, who had just disappeared through the door. "Wait!" Harry emerged into the corridor outside and caught up to Snape. "I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not, Potter; go back to your room," sneered Snape, lengthening his stride. Harry simply quickened his.
"Stop me," he said grimly.
"That's ten points from Gryffindor."
"Remind me to earn twenty next time."
They were turning a corner and walking down a staircase. Before Snape could retort or hex Harry into oblivion (and by the look on his face, he dearly wanted to do so), a wizard in official-looking robes almost bumped right into them.
"So sorry!" the Ministry wizard said, quickly stepping back to avoid becoming tangled. Snape's eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion as the wizard straightened his robes. The man started and peered when he got a second look at the Potions master. "Professor Snape?"
"I am," said Snape with his usual, unfriendly sneer.
"You probably don't remember me. I'm Paul Ranone. Ravenclaw. You were just starting to teach in my second year."
"Yes, of course...Mr. Ranone." Snape shook the man's offered hand slowly. "And what is a Ministry official doing here?"
"We're just here to see the Headmaster," said Ranone cheerfully, but there was something shifty beneath his voice. Snape seemed to have detected it.
"Ah," said the professor softly. "You realize that Albus Dumbledore's office is three floors down?"
Paul Ranone's smile became a bit fixed. "Ah, is it? It's been such a long time--must have forgotten my way." Harry watched them, feeling uneasy. There was something about Ranone's pale brown eyes that he didn't like. He quickly found out what when the the official glanced at him and smiled. The moment their gazes met a sharp pain sizzled through his scar. Harry's hands clenched into fists at his side as he struggled to control his expression. "Could you show me the way, Professor?" Ranone's easiness of speech had returned. Snape nodded, his eyes never leaving Ranone's face, and led the way.
Harry chose to follow behind Ranone. The wizard did not look altogether pleased with this arrangement, but did not display any strong objections at the same time. Harry watched Ranone's back like a hawk. It seemed obvious that this one was from Fudge's side of the Ministry; and it seemed even more obvious that he had by no means forgotten where Dumbledore's office was.
They were met in front of the stone gargoyle by Professor 'Harrison'. She was leading another wizard in Ministry robes by the elbow. By the vaguely angry and uncomfortable expression on his face, Harry was willing to guess that Rysk's grip wasn't as light as it looked. "Professor Snape," she said with a raise of her eyebrows. Her voice was surprisingly pleasant but a dangerous edge remained. "Was he looking for me, too?" She nodded to Ranone.
"No," said Snape, "he was looking for the Headmaster's office."
"I see." Rysk flashed a smile that was most decidedly unpleasant. "Mr. Henry here was looking for me in the dungeons." There was the faintest emphasis on the last three words. "Apparently Dumbledore wants a word." She looked down at Henry, who stood considerably shorter than her. "I hope it's not trouble."
"Nor do I, Ms. Harrison." Henry pulled away, a sneer tugging at his lips as he took in Rysk's overall appearance.
Not her day to impress the traditionals, thought Harry. 'Harrison' was wearing faded jeans and an open denim shirt over a white tee beneath her loosely fastened robes. And also, realized Harry with a prick of unease, the thin leather belt.
"Tetris," said Rysk to the gargoyle. A dry smile seemed to pull at her lips as the stone monster jumped aside.
Tetris? Harry stifled a laugh.
"I'm sorry," said Ranone, holding up a hand as Snape and Harry made to follow them in, "but this business is between us and these two strictly..." He gave an apologetic smile.
"Of course," said Snape, staring at Ranone. The smile faded a bit from Ranone's face and he turned a bit hastily to step through the wall. When the passageway sealed, blocking him from sight, Harry's scar finally stopped throbbing.
"God," muttered Harry, gingerly touching his forehead. He looked up to see Snape watching him. "That man...Ranone...he made my scar hurt."
"Oh? And what astonishing prophecy will you be gracing us with?" sneered Snape.
The anger and confusion in Harry's eyes must have been more intense than he thought. Snape took an involuntary step back. "It's not a fucking crystal ball!" he hissed.
"I would watch your tongue if I were you, Potter," said Snape in a deceptively soft voice. His black eyes flashed.
"You're not," said Harry. He dropped his hand. "I don't like him." He looked up when Snape didn't answer. "He didn't just forget his way."
"No," agreed Snape tightly, staring at the gargoyle. "He didn't."
