Harry Potter and the Servants of Soileh


"Are you absolutely certain that this is a wise course of action?"

"It's never possible to be absolutely certain in times such as these. But I am as certain as is possible."

"Putting Aurors up around the perimeter of the school... won't it interfere with teaching?"

"I have spoken to their Lunarn, Io. She assures me that they will only enter the school under emergency situations."

"Dumbledore wasn't pleased."

"Really, Sajani! What do you expect? For him to be thrilled? Don't you remember our dear little Potter's encounter with the Dementors?"

"As clearly as yesterday, Ma'am."

"And father didn't give him much choice, did he. But nonetheless, I think that dear old Cornelius is quite right to put up a guard. You-know-who tricked the faculty before. What's to stop him from doing it again?"

"The old bat's increasing suspicion."

"I admit, old Albus isn't in his youth anymore, but he's no bat. He's sharper than you and I put together. If the Dark Lord can fool a man like him, what hope is there for me? What hope is there for anyone?"

"Don't bother yourself with such things, Ma'am. It'll give you wrinkles."

"Wrinkles! Is that all you think of? But you're right, I shouldn't worry. We've fifty of the most able witches and wizards in the world headed to the school right now. If he-who-must-not-be-named can get in know, then we deserve to be beaten by him."

"One last question, Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"What is it in that school we need to protect so, ma'am."

"Apart from five hundred children, nothing."

"But why these children? There are other, larger schools. For instance, the one in Toronto. The Canadian School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I think it's called."

"That, Sajani, is not your business. But I'll suffice to say this: even that meddlesome fool of a father of mine isn't too stupid to see that the danger is very, very real. Even if he doesn't think it takes the form of the Dark Lord."

"What do you mean by-"

"Enough! Now prepare my things. Tonight we dine with the Headmaster of Hogwarts."



The tour guide smiled down at Harry, looking a little bit sorry for the boy. Not that anyone would have blamed her, as Harry was weighted down with every single peice of the Dursley's luggage. It wouldn't have been particularly bad under normal circumstances; bony Aunt Petunia was a light packer, and Uncle Vernon had managed to compress his clothing so they took up less space. But Dudley, that fat, pig of a boy, had piled everything, including his boombox and protable television into a total of four oversized bags, and then dumped them on Harry's shoulders. The rest of the family had eagerly followed suit, and before long, Harry had been so off-balance that he could hardly walk.

But he wasn't one to complain. It was enough that the Dursleys had taken Harry on vacation for the very first time in his life. Granted, they had only done it because because no one else had been able to look after him, and they weren't about to leave him home alone. ("Blow up the entire house, he will" Aunt Petunia had shrieked, though she knew as well as Harry that he couldn't use magic.)

So now he was in Austria, touring the countryside with the rest of the family in celebration of the bloated wonder's birthday (the bloated wonder, of course, being Dudley.) It was a luxury Harry had never expected to have. Though, looking back, he hadn't quite expected to be working as the luggage-boy either.

As soon as the girl showed them to their room, a beautiful suite overlooking an exquisite chain of mountains, Harry threw the luggage in a corner and flopped onto the bed, ignoring the grunts of rage Dudley gave. But his peace was interupted when Uncle Vernon pushed his unpleasant face into Harry's, and said, "Get up off our bed, boy. You can sleep on the couch."

Harry took his time getting to his feet, before going and sitting on a large, decorative, uncomforatable chesterfeild pushed up against a wall. But, once again, Uncle Vernon interrupted.

"Boy!" he bellowed, going purple and red at the same time. "What kind of state is our luggage in! Why is it in the corner like that?!"

Harry was sorely tempted to tell him that that was what happened when you were too cheap to get a proper busboy, but he only stalked off to put them away properly.

When he finished, the two took Dudley downstairs ro get him some food. He had begun to wail rather loudly about being hungry.

The minute they were gone, Harry heard a tapping at the window. When he glanced at the balcony doors, he saw a large, black owl with strange yellow-green eyes, which he had never seen before. For a minute he was worried. After all, strange and terrifying things had been happening that year, due to Voldemorts return to power. He had been trying to distract himself from it, but with the sight of that strange bird, it all came flooding back.

Harry interupted his thoughts by walking towards the door and throwing it open. The olw flew in, looking self-important.

"Better tell me quickly," Harry said to it. "My Uncle will be back soon. If he sees you, I'm in trouble."

The owl seemed to understand. It stuck out its left leg, and Harry saw that a peice of smoky-blue parchment was attached to it. He quickly pulled it off, and made a gesture for the black owl to leave. It wasn't pleased to be forced away without payment, but it was clearly from a wealthy owner who would feed it well when it returned.

Harry opened the note. It was written in swirly, over-curled writing that was extremely hard to read.

Dear Harry Potter, Mr. Potter, Esteemed Student, etcetera, etcetera,
You do not know me, but I have been watching you very closely these past few years. Greetings! I am Annette Fudge, daughter of our good-natured, though sadly bunglesome, Minister for Magic. Before I continue, I feel compelled to add that while I understand that your relationship with my father has deteriorated over these past months, I do not share his opinions on your... sanity, for lack of a better word.
As you may have heard, strange things have been happening these past months. I am aware that you do not receive our newspaper, due to misunderstandings amongst your guardians. I will tell you all I know, though there is much that is a mystery, even to high ranking executives such as myself.
Now, the things I am about to tell you will frighten you, Harry. I expect this. But, from associations with my contacts, I know that you are strong enough to handle it. You see, Harry, every Death Eater in Europe is looking for you. How do I know? My dear boy; my 'eyes', if you will, informed me. You know most of them, but of course, I cannot divulge their identities. All I will tell you is that you are in very grave danger. I cannot say why, and I cannot say where I am writing you from; it would be far to dangerous, and I fear that as of late, certain ministry members have been growing increasingly suspicious of my actions, though I assure you, I intend you no harm.
Harry, the situation has become increasingly hazardous. There is only one solution; you
must return to England, and stay with me, where you will be safe. There is no other way. I cannot allow you to simply stay with your family; every one of you-know-who's servants is on the march.
In the lobby of your hotel, you will find a portkey. Tonight, when you are sure that no-one is on duty, you must go down stairs and touch it. It is a small, artificial rose in the large bowl in the center. You will be transported instantly to my apartment. Which, you should know, is quite separate from my father's, so he will not find you. Tell no one you are leaving, not even your Aunt and Uncle. Leave them a note, though, so they won't be forced to call muggle security. But be sure not to tell them where you are going.
Harry, I'm sorry that our meeting must take place under such unpleasant circumstances. I regret that I could not contact you during happier times. But for now, you must trust me, however blindly, and meet me tonight. I remain sincerly yours,
Annette Fudge
Minister of Foreign Wizardy and International Dealings

Harry placed the note on the ground, breathing heavily. His life was in danger. And as a result, so was everyone's in the hotel.

And yet...

What was to say that this woman, this so-called Annette Fudge really was Annette Fudge? For all he knew, she could be a Death Eater, trying to trick him into heading into her, or his, lair.

But if he stayed, then he would never know the truth. And if it was the truth, then he would have no choice but to pin his hopes on this woman, Annette.

So either way, he would have to guess, and if he guessed wrong, many people would die.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. Why was this great burden being placed on his shoulders? He was still a boy. Yes, he had survived four showdowns with Voldemort, yes, he had completed the Tri-wizard tournament. But underneath all of the honor and pride, he was still a child. Just a normal boy...

Even as he thought it, though, he knew that he had never been, wasn't, and would never be normal. He was a wizard, a great survivor, and warrior. He'd been through battles with unspeakable evil and lived to tell of them. He was prodigiously talented Quidditch player, the best seen in hundreds of years. What was normal about that?

Nothing, that was what. And for the first time in th years since Harry had learned he wasn't a plain human, and had stepped out of his cupboard into light, he sorely wished he could go back to being the scrawny little boy with the taped glasses. The boy with the strange scar, who, despite the hatred of his guardians, had a bright future before him, one with no fear or pain, or these insufferable, terrifying, damned choices.

But the moment was fleeting, that moment of weakness. And when it passed, Harry had renewed strength, and he had made his decision.

If Annette was not Annette, and her letter was a lie, then he would die if he went to see her. But if she was telling the truth, and he stayed her in Austria, then eventually the Death Eaters would track him down and kill him and everyone else in this resort. So in the end, it was a question of his life or others. And Harry knew what his decision would have to be.

He picked the sheet off of the floor, and, placing it in his pocket, rose and headed towards the couch. He had a long night before him. Might as well get a little sleep.