JK Rowling wrote and owns the magic
They are not mine, Harry & CO
I have no rights, I make no money
This verse is just, so you know
Andolyn
The Daily Prophet
This Headmaster Dumbledore had the most amazing eyes, well, apart from Snape's that was. Ari felt somehow comforted by them, glittering with humour behind those old-fashioned half moon spectacles, light blue and sparkling like a boy's on Christmas morning. At the school were she worked, or -had- been working, meetings were serious business and discussed silly things. What kind of coffee should be served. Was there money for a paint job on the hall, yes there was if one of the teachers were let go off. Things that had very little to do with teaching what to whom and everything with prestige, who was in who's corner or could climb to be top dog.
The meeting conducted by Headmaster Dumbledore seemed a silly affair about serious business. How could one remain grave with snoring paintings hanging from the walls, an elf at one's feet, a ghost almost at ones elbow, and a respected member of the meeting with a valid opinion, standing on the coffee table in front of you. Snape made a marvellous effort to keep a straight face, perhaps his attitude was even real, used as the man had to be to a thing like this. But Ari felt very girlish giggles somewhere stuck behind her breastbone and she hid behind her tea not to show it.
There was however a lot more than a mere paintjob being discussed here, and a lot Ari had to make mental notes to ask about. She hoped Harry could give some answers.
The somewhat nervous, balding redheaded man spoke up. Ari felt herself nudged by Harry once again, but this time intentionally. In a stage whisper he told her the man's name was Arthur Weasly, that he was the father of his best friend and held a somewhat modest position at the Ministry of Magic. The 'old fool Fudge' Mr Weasly was ranting about, was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Some kind of ostrich, apparently, and the aversion for the man united every one in the room.
"We've had unbelievable trouble to convince the Muggles of Little Whining that the occurrences at Privet Dive had to do with an exploding gas tank rather than with a battlefield! And you want to know the rumours at the ministry? Harry's gone berserk! It is utterly insulting and insane! Fudge will rather blame this boy for the fire, not exactly unaided by the Daily Prophet, than open his eyes."
"What!" said Harry in total disbelief.
"Damn." said Snape darkly.
"It is worse than that." The man with the scimitar said while rising. From behind his band he somehow conjured a paper, and unfolded it. His seat was immediately taken by Mrs Norris. Before speaking, the man made a small bow to Ari.
"To those new within this circle, my name is Rajiv Ananta Sorpa. I live in Woolwich, London, where I own a small Muggle restaurant. It's a nice place and a good cover. And as disconnected from the floo-network as we all are. Forgive me for straying, but doesn't have Fudge anything to say about that 'tiny' inconvenience?"
Weasly harrumphed. "They're working on it! Besides, the few people who have disappeared, were, forgive me for quoting, 'Mudbloods who probably did not knew better and most likely have made some stupid mistake and are themselves to blame'. Can you believe it!"
"From Fudge?" another witch spoke up. She was tall, had a hart shaped face, and an intricate hairdo of long locks set in small curls. She wore no hat but a kind of silver tiara, an off white robe more reminiscent of a roman toga and sandals on her feet. Her face showed the lines of her advanced age, easily a contemporary of Dumbledore's, but there was not a hint of grey in the chestnut curls. Her stance was straight, fierce almost, and her brown eyes were deep and penetrating. In her youth, she had to have been strikingly beautiful. She also had to be an expert in hiding in plain sight, for it amazed Ari she had not noticed this woman before.
The voice was clear, sharp, and cold.
"From that -fool- I can believe any blunder!"
Slightly intimidated Rajiv held up a hand. "Oh, hi Liv, had not noticed you before."
The woman gave a chuckle and a smirk. "Do not sweet talk me, young man. Say what you have to say or sit down and shut up!"
"Always a pleasure," Rajiv muttered.
"I bet," said Harry, still whispering, "that she's another Slytherin!"
'Yeah right,' Ari thought, nodding, not having the foggiest what the boy was going on about.
"Anyway-," Rajiv unfolded his paper and started to read out loud.
Potter Pyromaniac?
Tragic Family Blow-out
Fourteen years ago, a naïve Muggle family of three was entrusted with the tender care of the wizarding worlds most famous and celebrated infant. Yet had the pitiful people fully understood the burden so callously placed up them, they might have thought twice, or once for that matter.
Dealing with a child suffering from heartbreaking tragic trauma, disturbed and resentful, is hard on any kind of family. But if the child is one of magic, and the family is Muggle, the handling is near to impossible.
Towards his relatives Harry Potter, the Slayer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, -forth- enterer and doubtful winner of the first Triwizard Tournament, (emphasise tri!) held in decades, has had a history of neglect and violence.
Never one to adapt true to Muggle form, he has been witnessed only to appear in very unfitting clothing in protest to his surroundings, combined with an extremely anti social attitude towards his Muggle peers. It has become known to this reporter that the boy has set various dangerous animals loose on his poor now deceased cousin, an angel of a boy who would never hurt a fly, according to his surviving aunt on his fathers side.
She has been victimised by young Mister Potter too, even though by merciful interventions of the ever efficient Ministry of Magic, she does not remember the ordeal of a swelling spell placed upon her, when trying, and failing, to persuade Harry not to run away from the only home he had ever known.
The boy's youth and history have always persuaded the most forgiving among us to turn a blind eye to Harry Potter's shortcomings and obviously cruel nature, but now the young so called hero has turned murderous and his adoptive family has not survived. In an extreme inferno, three Muggle homesteads were ruined and the ill-fated adoptive parents perished, together with a totally innocent neighbour, from whom no trace has been found. But it is safe to say that her broken body-'
"Quite enough, thank you!" ended Dumbledore' the report. Harry had turned very pale- but had the amazing strength to break the tension.
"Well, that will teach Hermione to ever trust a buzzing reporter like Skeeter!"
It was not a good joke, perhaps not a joke at all, but in spite of that some people laughed.
"They think I am dead?" stated Ari in utter amazement.
"Do you not think it for the best?" Dumbledore asked her softly. "Your relatives will have no defence at all against what we are facing."
"Are they in danger?" Ari's hands went to her face. "Please don't tell me they are!"
"As you can see, my dear, knowingly or not, nobody is quite as safe as we were. But if you remain 'deceased'…"
Dumledore's voice trailed off. Ari nodded, speechless. This time it was Snape's turn to draw -her- attention.
"I am sorry for this, truly I am."
Ari shook her head. "You had no choice, neither of you had. If I had known what I was getting myself into, I might have acted differently- Then again-" Ari sighed, gathering herself, : "if I understand correctly, you people, Harry and you," she nodded at Snape, "are in a fight with a bastard that will, if not is already, threaten my people as much as he does yours. If so, no-one can stand aside."
Black nodded grimly. "They like to kill Muggles, for sport."
Ari stared at him. "Gods, I hope you -are- kidding me!"
McGonagall's brow rose almost into her hat. "You are a Muggle?"
"Er- yes." Ari confirmed.
The only ones who did not seem surprised at that, were Dumbledore, the witch Rajiv had called 'Liv', the ones that already knew Ari and the ghost. Smiley and Mrs Norris were the only others who gave no reaction. Mr Weasly seemed happily surprised and very much interested, Rajiv scratched his beard, saying he'd never would have guessed, eying Snape rather amused but for the rest acting rather uninterested. The witch in the yellow robes put her nose in the air, lifted her brow and shrugged, the Peg legged man asked Dumbledore, ignoring Ari, what his plans were with 'this woman', security wise, and another unknown voice finally grasped why Ari had been such a good driver.
All and all, Ari got the feeling she had been confusing the hell out of these people. Some of them resented and others were amused by their own mistake in thinking she was one of -them- instead one of -those-. Some eyes and minds became shuttered, not unfriendly, merely indifferent. Others positively withdraw. And a kindly smiling McGonagall chuckled at her.
"Well, my dear, that -does- explain the perfect 'costume'."
Ari smiled back tiredly and allowed herself to flop back in the couch. Dumbledore nodded encouragingly and Harry had taken her hand. Well what the hell- it had never bothered Ari much how people regarded her- why start now? She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. It was the cranky man in breeches, whose nose was still black and blue but obviously no longer broken. He offered her his hand and smiled a somewhat unnatural smile, as if he had not used his face for a kind expression in a long while.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, missy. I'm Filch, Argus Filch."
Ari took the hand and shook it warmly. "Hello Argus."
"Welcome indeed," Dumbledore said, "For your stay might be a rather prolonged one, I fear."
Ari turned and answered dryly: "So I gather."
Rajiv waved with the paper he still held, drawing the attention back to himself.
"This article bares no name, but I must agree with Harry here, it bares the mark of Miss Skeeter. On a more serious note, if at all possible, it advises those who shelter Harry, our young friend would be best off if handed over to the experts at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. And if not, if he were perhaps to stay at let's say the home of some friends," Rajiv gave a nod in the direction of Arthur Weasly, : "those people had to be very aware of the danger he represents. Anyone still thinking this last bit is a warning against an ill-tempered boy?"
"Severus?" asked Dumbledore. Snape shrugged. "I have never seen her in the circle of Death Eaters. And I doubt if any of them is a journalist. But -if- Voldemort (a shudder went through the assemble with the mentioning of the name) is getting a grip on our 'free' and 'unbiased' press and at the same time is isolating us from each other with those attacks on the floo-network and other means of travel-"
"Then," Ari broke in straight faced, "you people will have to learn to trust on more conventional means of communication and transport. I am more than willing to help you with that."
Her remark earned her some chuckles of people who could see and appreciate the irony of the statement. Arthur Weasly beamed at her, both seriously and eagerly.
The small and excitable Flitwick broke in.
"Don't forget the consequences! How will we reach our people, if they reach them first. Start our-own- newspaper?"
"Prove the article is wrong." said Lupin calmly. Black shook his head at that.
"I hate to disagree with you, but it won't be that easy. Most people only believe what they -want- to believe."
"Hear, hear." Intoned Snape softly.
"That article states I am dead." said Ari. "The writer also seems convinced Harry somehow escaped. Can we not make up some story that is -almost- the truth and have that published? I take it -nobody- wants to make Seveverus's role in our escape explicit. If we edit his part out, can Harry and I not give some kind of interview? Is there not some journalist who is in heavy competition with this Sceeter person whom we can use?"
Black laughed out loud. "Now I'm beginning to understand why Snape picked you!"
Snape again looked the other way, Rajiv gave a -very- tiny smile and there were a lot of chuckles behind Ari. She wished she was -not- sitting on that couch, but somewhere were she could see their faces.
"Well, there is still another problem with that little piece of literature." Another witch came forward. She was dressed in elegant electric blue robes with gold trimming an wore a heavy Celtic looking hanger from a long necklace, had wild looking dark brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes.
"Yes, Ceridwen?" Dumbledore asked.
She pointed. "I've red that paper too. It also states that if Harry is allowed to return to Hogwarts next term, parents should think long and hard of the wisdom to return theirs to the school! How can we protect the children from You-Know-Who's ideas if they get shipped off to Durmstrang?"
"Quite easily." answered 'Liv' coldly. "The Claudii, Grimm and Sorpa families, all former Slytherin, I might add, are old and well respected. I am in a position to -tell- my family to send their children here. And so are you! We stand here with a number from each and every House of Hogwarts. In any respect we are the best that this place has -ever- produced! -We- should go and tell those around us what is truth and what is not! Those who will not listen or be persuaded might fall to Voldemort (again the shudder), but I assure you, they are to weak to be a problem to us or an asset to him! Let them fall and be a hindrance!"
In the silence following the statement, Flitwick accidentally pulled the elastic of the bow-tie he still held too hard, and thing shot from his fingers with a snap like a stone from a toy catapult. It hit one of the paintings at the other side of the room and the rudely awakened wizard in it said some very vulgar words that made McGonagall go 'tut!', put his tasselled nightcap straight and disappeared from view, walking out of the frame.
Ceridwen turned. "The weak are perhaps even more deserving of protection than the strong, Livia Germannicus Claudius. And do not forget that there is strength in numbers. An army of fools is still an army for us to withstand. And we cannot allow ourselves to dupe the children!"
"Ceridwen is right." Spoke Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, you both are. You, my friends, are the ones burdened with the plight to keep the children safe, to have them sent here! Especially the Slytherins! They might become either our future allies or problems, but right now they are merely children. We need to give them a good childhood, so they remember what goodness means. We need to be ethical, so they can learn form following our example. We need to give them our warmth and love so they are aware of the difference!"
During Dumbledore's speech, Ari saw Black and Snape throwing glances. When the men noticed they were staring at each other, they quickly turned away. Ari sought out Lupin, who knew what was going on between those two. The werewolf merely grinned, apparently quite happy with the exchange.
Another voice yet again, from a sturdy blond man next to Hagrid. "But it is hard to keep the reputation of the school up while a werewolf will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, a Half-Giant teaches Care of Magical Creatures, a person 'suspected' of being a Death-Eater is yet another professor and pieces like -that- are all over the papers about the students! Not to mention a convicted murderer as the school mascot 'Snuffles', hidden Basilisks and whatever else has been going on here for the past four years or so."
Good humoured Hagrid gave the man a gentle pat on the shoulder that made him nearly keel over. Snape coughed at the 'mascot' bit to hide a grin, but others were less subtle and an embarrassed Black held his hands up to ward off further comment.
"Nostie, ye've got a foul way wit' words, ye know tha'?"
'Nostie' pulled himself together and his robes back in place and shrugged.
"You all -know- what I mean! I would give my life for you and I know -all- of you would do the same for me! The point is, the parents don't!"
"Then invite them!" said Ari hotly and turned to the room filled with strange strangers. "Look, I am a teacher in my own right. I understand very little of the things being said here, but I do know what to do with people who do not trust you with the education of their loved ones. You show them who you are! Don't count on word of mouth. And certainly not on that so called paper! I've got a feeling this place is filled with traditions. Am I right in believing generation upon generation is sent here? If so, make those people remember. If they tell you they are scared, ask them why. Because if they are, they must know there is something wrong."
"Little one," Livia said as if talking to a small child, "you indeed know very little of what is going on here. Don't excite yourself and just -listen-!"
Crossing her arms before her chest and looking the formidable witch straight in the eye, Ari deliberately refused to understand the true meaning of her words.
"And does my height make my ideas less -valid-? My words less true? Can you afford to ignore me, because I am small?"
Flitwick, jumping the bandwagon, chirped "Indeed, she cannot!"
The witch looked down her nose at Ari, shrugged, but gave no further comment.
Something kicked Ari's shin. She looked back and down at Snape with a frown, who stone faced threw a glance at her seat to indicate she should sit down again. And he did something totally unexpected. While his face remained set, his black eyes twinkled like Dumbledore's . And a split-second, he winked at her.
*************************************************************************************************
Lataradk, hi and thanks for telling me you re-read! Most people whom I mention during this gathering at Dumbledore's, dead, allive, or of other species, will have a larger role. So count on your favs returning!
Leila C. Snape, no -way- I believe you are that young, you're writing is too good! I love the Snape Bloopers, btw.
Magical Me, no, this it not over, not for a very long time. Sorry, sparks will fly once every while, but nobody is in a hurry. Yet.
tailchaser, I love Witch in Exile, a truely wonderfull story. Te way you write them, my minds eye sees them. Exellent work! And thanks for the compliment on the spell. I'm not quite done with this theme yet.
Blackthorne, thanks for waiting. And just you wait, Snape is not such a remote person, when you find the right buttons to push.... Thanks for the comment on my English!
Strega Brava, I agree with you, absolutely, and always remembered the difficulty the Sorting Hat had while sorting Harry. And I really love Hagrid. I only wish I knew what house he belonged to, I can't remember reading about that.
Sophie W. Would you believe it, chocolate frogs really -do- exist! I've been eating them since I was about four years old. You see, we have a Saint in the Netherlands who is the protector of children, travellers and fishermen. He has a thing for helping poor girls to a dowry too. His name is Sinterklaas and he's something of a distant uncle of Santa Claus. The day -before- his birthday, on December the fifth, he rides the Dutch rooftops on his white stallion, while his servant Black Piet throes candy and presents through the chimneys. One kind of candy is chocolate frogs or mice, filled with marzipan. Don't ask me why. Regrettably, they won't jump around when you unwrap them, but still...
Ozma, Thanks. I love weaving stories through my story- and this one will be playing in the background for a while. Besides, Hooch does strike me as one of the more noble characters- I don't quite know why. Say hello to your boy's from me.
Miracle, evil?? You wanna talk about evil?? that show story of yours is evil! I laughed, fell of my chair and now I have a bump on my bum! (sulk)
Thanks for your kind comments, Anna, asprosdracos (thanks for the Twig tip!), The Slayer (AAAGG- NOOOO, gimme the comfy chair but NOT the wrath of the RUBBER-DUCKS!!! Please?), Ryven, caytebelle (thanks for the invite), Arya thanks!, I do my best (read tailchaser's story for a marvellously snappish Snape), Ice Queen, Irene, Starbite, Piri Malfoy (Ha! Another Rickmaniac!), iejasu, slytherin girl (hickup- beg your pardon, have had too much, m'fraid), JJ!
They are not mine, Harry & CO
I have no rights, I make no money
This verse is just, so you know
Andolyn
The Daily Prophet
This Headmaster Dumbledore had the most amazing eyes, well, apart from Snape's that was. Ari felt somehow comforted by them, glittering with humour behind those old-fashioned half moon spectacles, light blue and sparkling like a boy's on Christmas morning. At the school were she worked, or -had- been working, meetings were serious business and discussed silly things. What kind of coffee should be served. Was there money for a paint job on the hall, yes there was if one of the teachers were let go off. Things that had very little to do with teaching what to whom and everything with prestige, who was in who's corner or could climb to be top dog.
The meeting conducted by Headmaster Dumbledore seemed a silly affair about serious business. How could one remain grave with snoring paintings hanging from the walls, an elf at one's feet, a ghost almost at ones elbow, and a respected member of the meeting with a valid opinion, standing on the coffee table in front of you. Snape made a marvellous effort to keep a straight face, perhaps his attitude was even real, used as the man had to be to a thing like this. But Ari felt very girlish giggles somewhere stuck behind her breastbone and she hid behind her tea not to show it.
There was however a lot more than a mere paintjob being discussed here, and a lot Ari had to make mental notes to ask about. She hoped Harry could give some answers.
The somewhat nervous, balding redheaded man spoke up. Ari felt herself nudged by Harry once again, but this time intentionally. In a stage whisper he told her the man's name was Arthur Weasly, that he was the father of his best friend and held a somewhat modest position at the Ministry of Magic. The 'old fool Fudge' Mr Weasly was ranting about, was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Some kind of ostrich, apparently, and the aversion for the man united every one in the room.
"We've had unbelievable trouble to convince the Muggles of Little Whining that the occurrences at Privet Dive had to do with an exploding gas tank rather than with a battlefield! And you want to know the rumours at the ministry? Harry's gone berserk! It is utterly insulting and insane! Fudge will rather blame this boy for the fire, not exactly unaided by the Daily Prophet, than open his eyes."
"What!" said Harry in total disbelief.
"Damn." said Snape darkly.
"It is worse than that." The man with the scimitar said while rising. From behind his band he somehow conjured a paper, and unfolded it. His seat was immediately taken by Mrs Norris. Before speaking, the man made a small bow to Ari.
"To those new within this circle, my name is Rajiv Ananta Sorpa. I live in Woolwich, London, where I own a small Muggle restaurant. It's a nice place and a good cover. And as disconnected from the floo-network as we all are. Forgive me for straying, but doesn't have Fudge anything to say about that 'tiny' inconvenience?"
Weasly harrumphed. "They're working on it! Besides, the few people who have disappeared, were, forgive me for quoting, 'Mudbloods who probably did not knew better and most likely have made some stupid mistake and are themselves to blame'. Can you believe it!"
"From Fudge?" another witch spoke up. She was tall, had a hart shaped face, and an intricate hairdo of long locks set in small curls. She wore no hat but a kind of silver tiara, an off white robe more reminiscent of a roman toga and sandals on her feet. Her face showed the lines of her advanced age, easily a contemporary of Dumbledore's, but there was not a hint of grey in the chestnut curls. Her stance was straight, fierce almost, and her brown eyes were deep and penetrating. In her youth, she had to have been strikingly beautiful. She also had to be an expert in hiding in plain sight, for it amazed Ari she had not noticed this woman before.
The voice was clear, sharp, and cold.
"From that -fool- I can believe any blunder!"
Slightly intimidated Rajiv held up a hand. "Oh, hi Liv, had not noticed you before."
The woman gave a chuckle and a smirk. "Do not sweet talk me, young man. Say what you have to say or sit down and shut up!"
"Always a pleasure," Rajiv muttered.
"I bet," said Harry, still whispering, "that she's another Slytherin!"
'Yeah right,' Ari thought, nodding, not having the foggiest what the boy was going on about.
"Anyway-," Rajiv unfolded his paper and started to read out loud.
Potter Pyromaniac?
Tragic Family Blow-out
Fourteen years ago, a naïve Muggle family of three was entrusted with the tender care of the wizarding worlds most famous and celebrated infant. Yet had the pitiful people fully understood the burden so callously placed up them, they might have thought twice, or once for that matter.
Dealing with a child suffering from heartbreaking tragic trauma, disturbed and resentful, is hard on any kind of family. But if the child is one of magic, and the family is Muggle, the handling is near to impossible.
Towards his relatives Harry Potter, the Slayer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, -forth- enterer and doubtful winner of the first Triwizard Tournament, (emphasise tri!) held in decades, has had a history of neglect and violence.
Never one to adapt true to Muggle form, he has been witnessed only to appear in very unfitting clothing in protest to his surroundings, combined with an extremely anti social attitude towards his Muggle peers. It has become known to this reporter that the boy has set various dangerous animals loose on his poor now deceased cousin, an angel of a boy who would never hurt a fly, according to his surviving aunt on his fathers side.
She has been victimised by young Mister Potter too, even though by merciful interventions of the ever efficient Ministry of Magic, she does not remember the ordeal of a swelling spell placed upon her, when trying, and failing, to persuade Harry not to run away from the only home he had ever known.
The boy's youth and history have always persuaded the most forgiving among us to turn a blind eye to Harry Potter's shortcomings and obviously cruel nature, but now the young so called hero has turned murderous and his adoptive family has not survived. In an extreme inferno, three Muggle homesteads were ruined and the ill-fated adoptive parents perished, together with a totally innocent neighbour, from whom no trace has been found. But it is safe to say that her broken body-'
"Quite enough, thank you!" ended Dumbledore' the report. Harry had turned very pale- but had the amazing strength to break the tension.
"Well, that will teach Hermione to ever trust a buzzing reporter like Skeeter!"
It was not a good joke, perhaps not a joke at all, but in spite of that some people laughed.
"They think I am dead?" stated Ari in utter amazement.
"Do you not think it for the best?" Dumbledore asked her softly. "Your relatives will have no defence at all against what we are facing."
"Are they in danger?" Ari's hands went to her face. "Please don't tell me they are!"
"As you can see, my dear, knowingly or not, nobody is quite as safe as we were. But if you remain 'deceased'…"
Dumledore's voice trailed off. Ari nodded, speechless. This time it was Snape's turn to draw -her- attention.
"I am sorry for this, truly I am."
Ari shook her head. "You had no choice, neither of you had. If I had known what I was getting myself into, I might have acted differently- Then again-" Ari sighed, gathering herself, : "if I understand correctly, you people, Harry and you," she nodded at Snape, "are in a fight with a bastard that will, if not is already, threaten my people as much as he does yours. If so, no-one can stand aside."
Black nodded grimly. "They like to kill Muggles, for sport."
Ari stared at him. "Gods, I hope you -are- kidding me!"
McGonagall's brow rose almost into her hat. "You are a Muggle?"
"Er- yes." Ari confirmed.
The only ones who did not seem surprised at that, were Dumbledore, the witch Rajiv had called 'Liv', the ones that already knew Ari and the ghost. Smiley and Mrs Norris were the only others who gave no reaction. Mr Weasly seemed happily surprised and very much interested, Rajiv scratched his beard, saying he'd never would have guessed, eying Snape rather amused but for the rest acting rather uninterested. The witch in the yellow robes put her nose in the air, lifted her brow and shrugged, the Peg legged man asked Dumbledore, ignoring Ari, what his plans were with 'this woman', security wise, and another unknown voice finally grasped why Ari had been such a good driver.
All and all, Ari got the feeling she had been confusing the hell out of these people. Some of them resented and others were amused by their own mistake in thinking she was one of -them- instead one of -those-. Some eyes and minds became shuttered, not unfriendly, merely indifferent. Others positively withdraw. And a kindly smiling McGonagall chuckled at her.
"Well, my dear, that -does- explain the perfect 'costume'."
Ari smiled back tiredly and allowed herself to flop back in the couch. Dumbledore nodded encouragingly and Harry had taken her hand. Well what the hell- it had never bothered Ari much how people regarded her- why start now? She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. It was the cranky man in breeches, whose nose was still black and blue but obviously no longer broken. He offered her his hand and smiled a somewhat unnatural smile, as if he had not used his face for a kind expression in a long while.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, missy. I'm Filch, Argus Filch."
Ari took the hand and shook it warmly. "Hello Argus."
"Welcome indeed," Dumbledore said, "For your stay might be a rather prolonged one, I fear."
Ari turned and answered dryly: "So I gather."
Rajiv waved with the paper he still held, drawing the attention back to himself.
"This article bares no name, but I must agree with Harry here, it bares the mark of Miss Skeeter. On a more serious note, if at all possible, it advises those who shelter Harry, our young friend would be best off if handed over to the experts at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. And if not, if he were perhaps to stay at let's say the home of some friends," Rajiv gave a nod in the direction of Arthur Weasly, : "those people had to be very aware of the danger he represents. Anyone still thinking this last bit is a warning against an ill-tempered boy?"
"Severus?" asked Dumbledore. Snape shrugged. "I have never seen her in the circle of Death Eaters. And I doubt if any of them is a journalist. But -if- Voldemort (a shudder went through the assemble with the mentioning of the name) is getting a grip on our 'free' and 'unbiased' press and at the same time is isolating us from each other with those attacks on the floo-network and other means of travel-"
"Then," Ari broke in straight faced, "you people will have to learn to trust on more conventional means of communication and transport. I am more than willing to help you with that."
Her remark earned her some chuckles of people who could see and appreciate the irony of the statement. Arthur Weasly beamed at her, both seriously and eagerly.
The small and excitable Flitwick broke in.
"Don't forget the consequences! How will we reach our people, if they reach them first. Start our-own- newspaper?"
"Prove the article is wrong." said Lupin calmly. Black shook his head at that.
"I hate to disagree with you, but it won't be that easy. Most people only believe what they -want- to believe."
"Hear, hear." Intoned Snape softly.
"That article states I am dead." said Ari. "The writer also seems convinced Harry somehow escaped. Can we not make up some story that is -almost- the truth and have that published? I take it -nobody- wants to make Seveverus's role in our escape explicit. If we edit his part out, can Harry and I not give some kind of interview? Is there not some journalist who is in heavy competition with this Sceeter person whom we can use?"
Black laughed out loud. "Now I'm beginning to understand why Snape picked you!"
Snape again looked the other way, Rajiv gave a -very- tiny smile and there were a lot of chuckles behind Ari. She wished she was -not- sitting on that couch, but somewhere were she could see their faces.
"Well, there is still another problem with that little piece of literature." Another witch came forward. She was dressed in elegant electric blue robes with gold trimming an wore a heavy Celtic looking hanger from a long necklace, had wild looking dark brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes.
"Yes, Ceridwen?" Dumbledore asked.
She pointed. "I've red that paper too. It also states that if Harry is allowed to return to Hogwarts next term, parents should think long and hard of the wisdom to return theirs to the school! How can we protect the children from You-Know-Who's ideas if they get shipped off to Durmstrang?"
"Quite easily." answered 'Liv' coldly. "The Claudii, Grimm and Sorpa families, all former Slytherin, I might add, are old and well respected. I am in a position to -tell- my family to send their children here. And so are you! We stand here with a number from each and every House of Hogwarts. In any respect we are the best that this place has -ever- produced! -We- should go and tell those around us what is truth and what is not! Those who will not listen or be persuaded might fall to Voldemort (again the shudder), but I assure you, they are to weak to be a problem to us or an asset to him! Let them fall and be a hindrance!"
In the silence following the statement, Flitwick accidentally pulled the elastic of the bow-tie he still held too hard, and thing shot from his fingers with a snap like a stone from a toy catapult. It hit one of the paintings at the other side of the room and the rudely awakened wizard in it said some very vulgar words that made McGonagall go 'tut!', put his tasselled nightcap straight and disappeared from view, walking out of the frame.
Ceridwen turned. "The weak are perhaps even more deserving of protection than the strong, Livia Germannicus Claudius. And do not forget that there is strength in numbers. An army of fools is still an army for us to withstand. And we cannot allow ourselves to dupe the children!"
"Ceridwen is right." Spoke Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, you both are. You, my friends, are the ones burdened with the plight to keep the children safe, to have them sent here! Especially the Slytherins! They might become either our future allies or problems, but right now they are merely children. We need to give them a good childhood, so they remember what goodness means. We need to be ethical, so they can learn form following our example. We need to give them our warmth and love so they are aware of the difference!"
During Dumbledore's speech, Ari saw Black and Snape throwing glances. When the men noticed they were staring at each other, they quickly turned away. Ari sought out Lupin, who knew what was going on between those two. The werewolf merely grinned, apparently quite happy with the exchange.
Another voice yet again, from a sturdy blond man next to Hagrid. "But it is hard to keep the reputation of the school up while a werewolf will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, a Half-Giant teaches Care of Magical Creatures, a person 'suspected' of being a Death-Eater is yet another professor and pieces like -that- are all over the papers about the students! Not to mention a convicted murderer as the school mascot 'Snuffles', hidden Basilisks and whatever else has been going on here for the past four years or so."
Good humoured Hagrid gave the man a gentle pat on the shoulder that made him nearly keel over. Snape coughed at the 'mascot' bit to hide a grin, but others were less subtle and an embarrassed Black held his hands up to ward off further comment.
"Nostie, ye've got a foul way wit' words, ye know tha'?"
'Nostie' pulled himself together and his robes back in place and shrugged.
"You all -know- what I mean! I would give my life for you and I know -all- of you would do the same for me! The point is, the parents don't!"
"Then invite them!" said Ari hotly and turned to the room filled with strange strangers. "Look, I am a teacher in my own right. I understand very little of the things being said here, but I do know what to do with people who do not trust you with the education of their loved ones. You show them who you are! Don't count on word of mouth. And certainly not on that so called paper! I've got a feeling this place is filled with traditions. Am I right in believing generation upon generation is sent here? If so, make those people remember. If they tell you they are scared, ask them why. Because if they are, they must know there is something wrong."
"Little one," Livia said as if talking to a small child, "you indeed know very little of what is going on here. Don't excite yourself and just -listen-!"
Crossing her arms before her chest and looking the formidable witch straight in the eye, Ari deliberately refused to understand the true meaning of her words.
"And does my height make my ideas less -valid-? My words less true? Can you afford to ignore me, because I am small?"
Flitwick, jumping the bandwagon, chirped "Indeed, she cannot!"
The witch looked down her nose at Ari, shrugged, but gave no further comment.
Something kicked Ari's shin. She looked back and down at Snape with a frown, who stone faced threw a glance at her seat to indicate she should sit down again. And he did something totally unexpected. While his face remained set, his black eyes twinkled like Dumbledore's . And a split-second, he winked at her.
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Lataradk, hi and thanks for telling me you re-read! Most people whom I mention during this gathering at Dumbledore's, dead, allive, or of other species, will have a larger role. So count on your favs returning!
Leila C. Snape, no -way- I believe you are that young, you're writing is too good! I love the Snape Bloopers, btw.
Magical Me, no, this it not over, not for a very long time. Sorry, sparks will fly once every while, but nobody is in a hurry. Yet.
tailchaser, I love Witch in Exile, a truely wonderfull story. Te way you write them, my minds eye sees them. Exellent work! And thanks for the compliment on the spell. I'm not quite done with this theme yet.
Blackthorne, thanks for waiting. And just you wait, Snape is not such a remote person, when you find the right buttons to push.... Thanks for the comment on my English!
Strega Brava, I agree with you, absolutely, and always remembered the difficulty the Sorting Hat had while sorting Harry. And I really love Hagrid. I only wish I knew what house he belonged to, I can't remember reading about that.
Sophie W. Would you believe it, chocolate frogs really -do- exist! I've been eating them since I was about four years old. You see, we have a Saint in the Netherlands who is the protector of children, travellers and fishermen. He has a thing for helping poor girls to a dowry too. His name is Sinterklaas and he's something of a distant uncle of Santa Claus. The day -before- his birthday, on December the fifth, he rides the Dutch rooftops on his white stallion, while his servant Black Piet throes candy and presents through the chimneys. One kind of candy is chocolate frogs or mice, filled with marzipan. Don't ask me why. Regrettably, they won't jump around when you unwrap them, but still...
Ozma, Thanks. I love weaving stories through my story- and this one will be playing in the background for a while. Besides, Hooch does strike me as one of the more noble characters- I don't quite know why. Say hello to your boy's from me.
Miracle, evil?? You wanna talk about evil?? that show story of yours is evil! I laughed, fell of my chair and now I have a bump on my bum! (sulk)
Thanks for your kind comments, Anna, asprosdracos (thanks for the Twig tip!), The Slayer (AAAGG- NOOOO, gimme the comfy chair but NOT the wrath of the RUBBER-DUCKS!!! Please?), Ryven, caytebelle (thanks for the invite), Arya thanks!, I do my best (read tailchaser's story for a marvellously snappish Snape), Ice Queen, Irene, Starbite, Piri Malfoy (Ha! Another Rickmaniac!), iejasu, slytherin girl (hickup- beg your pardon, have had too much, m'fraid), JJ!