Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, and are used without her permission.
Author's Notes: Chapter 13's up a lot quicker than chapter 12 was! Apologies in advance for anyone who doesn't like the end of this chapter, but trust me - you shouldn't have to wait too long to find out what happens…
Summary: Just when Harry thinks everything's going smoothly, Dumbledore gives him some bad news…oh yes, and Crabbe has a close encounter with a cocktail umbrella!
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Part Thirteen
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After the excitement of the Quidditch trials, and the satisfaction of chatting to Remus, Harry found the next few weeks very quiet. He knew, of course, that Dumbledore and many of the other Professors were involved in planning counter-attacks against Voldemort, just as Remus was, but there were few clues as to what exactly was happening in that direction. For all Harry knew, Mr. Weasley and others at the Ministry of Magic were still desperately trying to convince the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, that Voldemort had regained his powers. Teams of wizards working under Dumbledore's directions might be combing Britain searching for clues to Voldemort's whereabouts, Harry supposed, but at Hogwarts everyone seemed intent on carrying on as normal.
"Normal" meant long hours of doing homework, piled on them by teachers who seemed to be convinced that Voldemort's return would not stop the fifth-years sitting their O.W.L.s next summer. "Normal" meant lengthy sessions in the library with Neville, taking notes on the history of magical law-enforcement and watching Ron and Hermione bickering over their project on the next table. "Normal" meant sitting in the cosy common room, laughing at Fred and George's jokes and enjoying the fire's warmth as the evenings grew colder. And "normal" meant getting up early for twice-weekly Quidditch practices.
Harry was not sure he would ever be as obsessive a Quidditch Captain as Oliver Wood had been, driving his team out to practice in the pouring rain and in the pitch dark. Happily, his team all seemed keen enough so far to turn out for practices in the misty autumnal mornings, and there had been no need to resort to any of Wood's more manic exhortations yet. It was a pleasure, not a penance, to soar through the cool grey sky before breakfast, watching the orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees nearest the Quidditch pitch and inhaling a smell which was a mixture of damp tree bark, broom polish and bacon wafting from the Great Hall. It was even more of a pleasure for Harry that Ron could now join him in all these experiences. Ron was absolutely determined that Gryffindor should wipe out all their opposition on the Quidditch field this season, and he would bombard Harry with his ideas for tactics as they walked together to the pitch, leaving a trail of their footprints marked in the dewy grass.
Prashant Patil had joined the Gryffindor team for Quidditch practices, and listened to any words of advice Harry gave him with a spellbound attention which Harry found almost embarrassing. Parvati, not the keenest flier herself, but proud of her brother's talent, had lent Prashant her own broom, a very serviceable Nimbus 1500 she had been given by their parents in her second year. Harry found Prashant very quick to pick up the tactics the rest of the team suggested to him. They took to having Seeker contests, releasing the Snitch and competing to spot it first. Prashant had a good eye for the Snitch, although he could not yet catch it as nimbly as Harry could, nor pull out of a dive as quickly as Harry, on his Firebolt, could. Still, Harry thought Prashant would make an excellent Reserve Seeker, though he hoped he would not need to use him this season - Harry did not want to miss any matches if he could help it.
The Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin Quidditch teams had all begun practising too. Draco Malfoy was still the Slytherin Seeker, and was taking every opportunity to sneer at Gryffindor's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup with Harry as their Captain. Every time he met Malfoy, Harry thought about what Neville had told him - that Malfoy's aunt was imprisoned in Azkaban - and he wondered what Malfoy would say if he were to tell him that he knew about it. Knowing that Malfoy's father was a Death Eater, Harry wondered if Lucius Malfoy was proud of his sister-in-law for her crimes, or merely scornful that she had not managed to evade punishment, as he had.
Draco Malfoy often received packages of cakes and sweets from home, and he had been sneering for years at the fact that Harry never got any post of this sort. At least, Harry thought, Malfoy was not able to make those jibes any more, because this term Harry had been receiving post from home - for he almost thought of Gatehouse Cottage as that, after the summer he had spent there. Every week this term he had had letters and notes - from Sirius, from Remus, and even from Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg, in addition to asking after Blackie, had started sending him packages of her home-made cakes and biscuits, and, while these were not quite up to Mrs. Weasley's standards, Harry appreciated the thought behind the gifts. It felt good to have something to share with Ron and Hermione, who had been sharing their treats from home with him for years.
Whenever he received a note from Remus - usually a very short one, as Remus was always busy these days - Harry remembered how struck Remus had seemed by the sight of Professor Stoddard. She had reminded him of someone, he had said, and Harry wondered who that had been. Professor Stoddard worked the fifth-years hard during her Defence against the Dark Arts lessons, but they had grown to like her - as Harry had instinctively done when he had first met her in the apothecary's shop. She was strict, but fair, and underneath her businesslike exterior she had quite a strong sense of humour. Liking Professor Stoddard, however, did not stop the students from complaining about the amount of homework she set.
"How am I supposed to fill four rolls of parchment writing about ways of blocking Disfiguring Curses?" Ron asked, as he, Harry and Hermione made their way towards Hogsmeade on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term. Although the sun was shining, there was a bite in the cold wind, and they were all glad of their cloaks. "She only told us about two ways, and I've written them up, but it only ran to one and a bit rolls."
"If you'd read the whole chapter in the book, Ron, you'd have found there are seven ways of blocking them, altogether," Hermione said, a note of reproof in her voice.
"I did read it. Well, sort of. I looked at all the pictures - did you see them, Harry? Some of those victims of Disfiguring Curses looked unbelievably gross."
"I liked that story she told us last week about the Ministry wizard who fought off the Lethifold," Harry said, grinning at Hermione's pained expression. "I wouldn't fancy meeting one of them."
"Yeah, they're pretty scary - I hope Hagrid never tries to keep one as a pet," Ron said cheerfully. "At least we're not in much danger of being maimed while he's still teaching us about Glumbumbles."
"I suppose we can always hope one of them'll sting Malfoy and really depress him," Harry suggested.
They had reached the main street of Hogsmeade, where plenty of other Hogwarts students were moving from shop to shop. "I need a new quill from the stationers'," Hermione remembered. "And didn't you say you'd run out of red ink, Ron?"
"Yeah, might as well go there first."
Harry had paused to look in the window of Dervish and Banges' wizarding equipment shop, his eye caught by a display of magical gardening tools. "You go on, I'll catch you up," he said.
Ron and Hermione headed off to the stationers', two shops along, and Harry turned back to the window display. He was sure Neville or Professor Sprout would appreciate the tools, which were much more sophisticated than those they used in their Herbology lessons. Harry had never seen Magical Topiary Shears - Just say the word, and marvel as they cut your overgrown hedge into the shape of a handsome Hippogriff, or maybe a magical Manticore! - or Wizard Watering Cans - No more time-consuming daily Watering Charms! Keep your garden green with our self-filling cans, just one Resetting Charm per week needed! Christmas was still weeks ahead, but Harry wondered if a magical gardening tool might be a suitable present for Remus, whose garden at Gatehouse Cottage was certainly in need of some attention.
As he looked into the shop window, Harry noticed a familiar figure reflected in the glass, and he turned to look. Professor Stoddard had just come out of Gladrags' Wizardwear, across the street. She was wearing slightly shabby dark blue robes, not her usual black teaching robes. With one hand she carried shopping bags, and with the other she was holding the hand of a small boy. He looked about five years old, and was carrying a box in his other hand with great care. A girl, a few years older and with brown hair in two plaits, was walking beside them.
Harry hesitated, but Professor Stoddard had seen him. "Hullo, Harry."
Harry took a few steps towards her, and said politely, "Hullo, Professor."
"All by yourself today?" Professor Stoddard asked, quirking an enquiring eyebrow at him.
"Not really - Ron and Hermione have just gone to the stationers'," Harry explained.
The small girl and boy were regarding Harry with great interest. "These are my children," Professor Stoddard explained, although Harry had already guessed that. "This is Victoria, and that's Eric. This is Harry, one of my students."
"Hullo," Harry said gravely, as the small boy stared at him with wide eyes.
"I've got a rat!" Eric announced. "Just got him today! Would you like to see him?"
"I don't think you should open that box again until we get home," Professor Stoddard said firmly. "We don't want him escaping again - it took us long enough to catch him in Honeydukes'."
Eric's face fell. "What's your rat's name?" Harry asked quickly.
"He hasn't got one yet. Vicky wants to call him Brownie, but that's a silly name."
"My friend Ron had a rat once. It was called Scabbers," Harry told him, wondering what Professor Stoddard would say if she knew the true identity of Scabbers - Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater and betrayer of Harry's parents.
"That's a good name," Eric said. "I think I might call mine Claws - he's got really long ones."
Harry was just agreeing that this was an excellent name for a rat when Ron and Hermione joined them. They greeted Professor Stoddard politely, and were introduced to Victoria, Eric, and the rat who might be named Claws.
"Have you got a pet?" Hermione asked Victoria.
Victoria, who appeared to be rather shy, blushed deeply and said very quietly that she had a kitten.
"Hermione's got a cat called Crookshanks," Ron put in. "It's a man-eater - huge great ginger thing."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry interrupted quickly, "I've got a cat too - called Blackie."
"Oh yes, I've seen her with you," Professor Stoddard said. "Well, we'd better get on - nice to have met you - come on, Vicky - Eric, keep that lid on -" She moved away with her family, nodding pleasantly to Harry and his friends as she went.
"They seem nice," Hermione said.
"Vicky - does that remind you of anyone?" Ron murmured, with a bit of a grin on his face. Hermione refused to rise to the bait.
"Come on," she said, "let's go to Zonko's. I know you're both dying to go there, so let's get it over with!"
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Harry had the feeling that Hermione's Prefectly conscience was troubled by some of the items he and Ron had bought at Zonko's, the wizarding joke-shop. Harry could see her looking at some of the things their fellow-students were buying, too, and envisaging the havoc that could be caused with these tricks in the Gryffindor common room. She managed to turn a blind eye, however, probably thinking that some of Fred and George's latest inventions were worse than any of the things to be bought at Zonko's.
Their last port of call in Hogsmeade was The Three Broomsticks, where they stopped for a drink of Butterbeer, and were very amused to watch Madam Rosmerta stumble and drop an entire tray of drinks on the head of Vincent Crabbe, drenching him. Since Malfoy and Goyle were also well splattered with assorted drinks in the ensuing chaos, the three Gryffindors all enjoyed watching it immensely, and were still laughing over the incident as they walked back to Hogwarts.
"Aah - Malfoy - with that redcurrant rum dripping off his chin," Ron sighed ecstatically. "It was almost as good as seeing him being turned into a ferret."
"And Crabbe - with that cocktail umbrella stuck in his hair - " Harry started to laugh again. Hermione, forgetting her Prefectly dignity, kept breaking into giggles every few yards at the memory.
As they neared the front door of the castle, Harry saw Professor McGonagall hurry out on to the front steps, and gaze at the path, as though searching for someone. Seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione, she beckoned them energetically.
"Uh-oh, what's happened now?" Harry muttered to the others.
"As long as she's not going to tell us the first Quidditch match is cancelled," Ron hissed. The first game - Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw - was in a week's time.
"Potter - you're needed," Professor McGonagall called, as they came within earshot. "Professor Dumbledore wants to speak to you in his office."
"Professor Dumbledore - " Harry felt a lurch of trepidation in his stomach. "Has something happened?" he asked Professor McGonagall, as they reached her.
"Professor Dumbledore will explain everything," Professor McGonagall said tartly. "I'll take you to his office now. Weasley - Miss Granger - hurry along to Gryffindor Tower, if you please. It's not long until dinner time." She ushered them all into the Entrance Hall.
What does Dumbledore want? Ron mouthed at Harry, as he and Hermione turned to go up the front staircase.
Harry shrugged, and mouthed back, Don't know.
Harry followed Professor McGonagall along the corridors, although he had been to Professor Dumbledore's office several times before and knew the way to the ugly stone gargoyle which marked the entrance. Professor McGonagall gave the password, ("Mint Humbugs!") and stepped back as the wall opened to reveal the moving spiral staircase which led upwards to Dumbledore's office.
"I won't come up with you, Potter," she said. "Professor Dumbledore is expecting you." She watched Harry step on to the moving staircase, and then walked away rapidly, frowning as though she was worried about something.
Harry wondered, as he rose upwards, why he had been summoned. Did Dumbledore just want to update him on what was being done to protect the wizarding world from Voldemort? Somehow, Harry doubted it. He had a nasty feeling that something had gone wrong - and his first thoughts were of the people at Gatehouse Cottage. With all his heart, Harry hoped that Voldemort had not caught up with them. Please don't let anything have happened to Sirius or Remus, he thought. Or Mrs. Figg, or even Mundungus.
At the top of the moving staircase was the oak door with its griffin knocker. Harry knocked once, quite loudly, and the door swung open.
Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, stroking the golden head of Fawkes the phoenix, who was perched on the arm of his chair. "Ah, Harry," he said, as Harry stepped forward. "Do sit down."
Harry sat down, reluctantly. He was full of questions, but knew from experience that Dumbledore never told anyone anything until he was ready.
"I expect you're wondering why I asked you to come and see me," Professor Dumbledore said amiably, continuing to stroke Fawkes's feathers. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Harry leant forward anxiously, nearly falling off the edge of his seat. "Voldemort -?"
"No - that is, I hope not. To the best of my knowledge, Lord Voldemort is in hiding in Wales. I am taking all the steps I consider necessary to prepare for whatever he is planning, as you know, Harry."
"Then - what -?"
"Ah. Yes." Dumbledore's face became grave, and he regarded Harry with his hands clasped in front of his chin, his fingers steepled. "I had a message from Remus Lupin today. It seems that Mundungus Fletcher - you know him, don't you?"
"Yes - he was staying at Gatehouse Cottage in the summer when I was," Harry said.
"Indeed - well, it appears that Mundungus went out the day before yesterday to patrol the neighbourhood, and make sure that everything was as it should be." Dumbledore paused. "He did not return."
"You mean - he's gone?"
"Naturally Remus organised a search for him, but there appeared to be no clue as to what might have become of him. Remus decided to have another search - yesterday - before notifying me of Mundungus's disappearance. He and Sirius and Arabella Figg all went out to search different parts of the area - as did a few other friends of mine who live nearby." Dumbledore paused again. Harry waited. "I fear that the news I have had from Remus today is not good. He tells me that Sirius has not been seen since he went out to look for Mundungus yesterday, and that there is no trace of him either."
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To be continued…