Pricking Achille's Heel

Minerva slowly guided her broomstick back to the Hogwarts grounds. In the hazy morning light, she could see two other figures returning.

            "Wales is secure," grinned Sirius, as Remus yawned a great yawn that nearly sent him toppling over. "We laced it with shields, at least twenty dozen. Impregnable. How about you?"

            "Exhausted. Mundungus Fletcher insisted on using some of the most obscure spells in the world."

            Remus rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to bed. I'll be down in time for supper."

            They entered the castle. As Remus and Sirius' yawns echoed through the corridor, Minerva sent a message to Albus Dumbledore before heading to the library.

            The Headmaster had not wasted any time. Already, he'd brought the padlocked trunk out of storage, which contained surveillance instruments that he had used sixteen years ago, during Voldemort's reign. When little Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, he had packed those tools away for good, hoping that he'd never have to use them again. That was so long ago. He shook his head. No, it wasn't.

            With Flitwick's help, he'd set up the charts and maps and radars. One of them looked sort of like a topography map, and it measured the levels of Dark activity. There was quite a peak at Malfoy Manor, and a faint blue tinge marked the smoldering traces left from the raid on Azkaban.

            Stifling a yawn, Albus Dumbledore wondered what Voldemort's next move would be. He'd already amassed an army; where will he strike? His mind flitted to the most logical answers. Diagon Alley. Hogwarts. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.

            "I don't know," he said aloud. And then, "Hullo, what are you doing here?"

            A speckled owl, Minerva's owl, was perching on his lampshade. Albus quickly untied the letter and read it. He was pleased. Everyone had finished and returned to Hogwarts but Severus and Moody, who were in London, but they'd be back soon, no doubt.

            In the library, Minerva's pile of books grew steadily higher. She was undaunted; in fact, she welcomed the information. If she wanted to put her idea into use, she would need to do that much research.

            This has never been done before, she told herself. It's never occurred to anyone to try it. That's why it will work.

            At least she hoped that was the case. She perused the chapter on Animagology, before moving on to the next book. She'd nearly finished the entire stack when Sirius popped his head into the library.

            "It's dinner time. Have you found out what you wanted to?"

            She nodded and told him.

            "I didn't know Animagii could transform into multiple animals."

            "It's just not done," she said, "but it's possible."

            Sirius flashed a happy smile, but his eyes glinted vengeance. "When do we start?"

            "Now."

            As they walked to the Great Hall, Sirius was already thinking up possibilities. A hawk? A bear? Or perhaps something with opposable thumbs…

            Halfway through dinner, Remus thought he heard a strange whirling sound. It grew louder and louder, and then with a whumph, a little old woman came into view. She was wearing Flitwick's Portkey.

            "Why, hello Arabella," said Professor Dumbledore mildly, as he shook a speck of pepper from his beard. "Care to join us?"

            "I've already eaten. I was at the Leaky Cauldron just a moment ago."

            Dumbledore waited patiently as Arabella reached for a drumstick. "Actually, I didn't get to finish my meal, I left in such a hurry."

            The whole table perked up, and looked at her eagerly. She carefully licked her fingers before clearing her throat.

            "Arthur's been fired from the Ministry, for being impertinent enough to want you to alarm the nation on public radio. Fudge personally sacked him."

            Dumbledore shook his head, slowly. "That's terrible. How are Arthur and Molly taking it?"

            She grinned a crooked toothed grin. "Molly's happy. She says the Ministry's full of fools, anyways. Arthur's a little down, but he jokes that he can teach 'Muggle Studies' at Hogwarts.

"But there's more. While I was at Tom's place, there were some drunken men—werewolves, actually. And they were causing trouble, with their mutterings. Tom was about to throw them out, but then we heard something about a raid and new wands, and something about Voldemort promising them what the Ministry couldn't. So we gave them more drinks—more potent ones—until they were sprawling on the floor drunk, but we didn't find anything more."

            "You-Know-Who's given wands out to his army?" Hagrid cried, turning pale.

            "But what could he offer them that the Ministry can't?"

            "Lots of things, like power, for instance. Self-worth. Dignity. We're not known for treating werewolves nicely," said Arabella grimly. "So they're be wanting to attack soon."

            "I think," said Remus, looking tired, "they'll choose Monday."

            "The full moon is on Monday."

            "But that's tomorrow."

*          *            *

            After Arabella left, nobody seemed to know what to do, and so they did everything but plan a counterattack. Late that night, Minerva sent encoded alert owls to every member of their group, as well as a plain note to the Ministry. The next morning, she got back an enlarged lump of earwax from the Minister.

            For the entire day, Sirius fiddled agitatedly with a Rubix cube, a Muggle toy meant to test one's logic and patience. Remus had enchanted it so that it would not be affected by magical proddings, and had given it to his friend for Christmas in their sixth year so that Sirius could wring something that wasn't Professor Snape's neck. He was surprised but glad that Sirius still had it.

            There was a knock on the door, Remus looked up, and Hagrid and Madame Maxime entered the staff room. He'd brought Fang with him, for in the summer, Hagrid was allowed to bring his dog into Hogwarts. 

            They sat in silence, to the cadence of Fang's dipping slobber. Olympe looked like she had a strong urge to wipe the dog's jaw with her bath towel-sized handkerchief, but she didn't move.

            "So, Sirius," said Remus awkwardly, feeling as if he'd shattered glassware in subzero weather, "Have you decide upon your next animal?"

             "No, not yet."

            "You've already made the potion for me?"

            Sirius nodded.

            There was another sound at the door, and Professor Flitwick entered the staff room and shook his fists. "I can't stand it," he said, and then sat down without a word. Everyone excused the normally jolly Professor's outburst; they felt exactly the same way he did.

            Not five minutes had passed when the door flung open again and Minerva McGonagall strode in, a large book tucked under her arm. She looked rather sheepish for causing such a noise, closed the door soundlessly, and sat down next to Professor Flitwick. However, she did not open the book.

            "I wonder who will pop in next," remarked Hagrid.

In answer, Professor Trelawney glided into the room, and sat down, her eyes keen behind misty glasses as she surveyed the tense crowd. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

            "You know," said Sybille in her most serene voice, for she recognized her opportunity, "I have been examining the slime traces of snails, and I have foreseen that something dark will happen soon."

            "That's nice," said Sirius coldly. He twisted his cube all the faster.

            "Something will happen very soon. He will strike hard and steal our greatest treasure from us. Then we shall crumble."

            "We're all going ter be mad if what you say turns out ta be true," Hagrid remarked. He thought about Hogwarts, his precious home, his only home.

            "Don't listen to her," said Sirius. "She likes the commotion."

            Trelawney shook her head in sorrow. "I am merely the messenger."

            Minerva could feel the anger directed at the Divination's professor; in fact, she felt rather riled herself. She knew Sybille was not a stupid woman. Surely she had the sense not to keep provoking the staff.

            Remus leapt out of his chair; calm, reasonable Remus Lupin. "Go away," he growled menacingly, his throat rumbling. "We don't need your silly forecasts or guesses."

             Professor Trelawney barely batted an eye.

            To Minerva's surprise, she found herself walking over to Sybille. She placed an arm around Sybille's shoulder and steered her out of the staff room.

            Summoning her friendliest voice, Minerva said, "Please excuse them, Sybille. They're feeling rather distraught today."

            Professor Trelawney was so flabbergasted herself that wordlessly, she let Minerva lead her to her tower.

            Back in the staff room, Remus shook his head. "I'm sorry. But I suppose I ought to tell Professor Trelawney that."

            "You don't have to apologize at all," Sirius interjected. "She brought it upon herself, and you were far more civil than I would have been."

            "I've been angry all day, and it's not because the full moon's tonight."

            Hagrid pat Remus on the shoulder hard, but kindly, "Don't worry, we're all that way today. You'd better get to your room before the moon rises."

            A look of panic flashed across Remus' face and he bolted out of the room.

            Seconds later, they heard a piercing scream, the sound of footsteps, and a man's voice.

            They rushed out the room, down the stairs, and to Great Hall, where the noise was coming from.

            Apparently, it was Sybille who had screamed, and Minerva was trying to calm her and conjure a stretcher all at once.

            "What's happened?" asked Sirius, "What's happened, Moody?"

            Moody did not answer, but rolled a bloodied figure robed in black onto the stretcher Minerva had conjured. "Bring him up to Madame Pomfrey, will ya?"

            The injured man was immediately carted off by Hagrid and Flitwick.

            "What's happened?" repeated Sirius, frowning. "Who was that man?"

            "Be happy it's not you. I've got to speak to Dumbledore." With that, he strode off.

*          *            *

            Sirius tapped Minerva's shoulder. "Hey, do you know what's going on?" He felt too old to actually eavesdrop by the Headmaster's door and find out.

            She shook her head. "I know only bits."

            "Well?"

            "From Moody, I know that Who-Know-Who's adherents have struck tonight in London."

            "Where?"

            "Diagon Alley."

            "Gringotts?"

            "No," said Minerva, as she thought for a moment. Sirius wondered if she had already pieced the bits of Moody's information together in her mind.

            "Well?"

            "He sent the werewolves out…just as Arabella had warned us. It was the full moon, so they were especially dangerous…I think they attacked Ollivander's. You-Know-Who's promised them wands, Sirius. It's the one thing they want that they're not allowed to have under wizarding law."

            "Except Remus," said Sirius proudly.

            "And once they've raided Ollivander's, they can distribute wands….to the vampires, the trolls, the banshees….and the Dementors."

            An involuntary shiver ran through Sirius' back. Minerva felt it, too.

            "And who was that man Moody carried in?"

            "I hope it's not…"

            There was the sound of footsteps and Professor Dumbledore rushed down the stairs, his purple cloak flying.

            "Where are you going?" cried Sirius.

            "To see the Minister."

            At the top of the stairs, Alastor Moody shouted, "Constant vigilance!"

            Dumbledore nodded and stepped into the fireplace. In a burst of green light, he was gone.

            "Good luck with Fudge," said Sirius, quietly.

            "Come on," said Minerva in a flat voice, as she head towards the Infirmary, "We ought to check on Professor Snape. See if he's alright."

            It was an understatement, and she knew it. No one was "alright" after Voldemort had dealt with him.