Barry Potter - Chapter 6
Draco was following a girl. He wanted to tell her something, so he hastened to catch up with her. But the more he hurried, the farther ahead she drew. He dodged past other students, trying in vain to catch up with her. He lost sight of her as she turned a corner. With a burst of speed he rounded it as well. This hallway was empty, and the girl was close. Draco started to sprint toward her, but suddenly he froze. He lunged frantically in every direction, trying to break free of whatever held him, but he couldn't. A dark figure was massing before him, hiding the girl's retreating back. Draco snarled as the blackness took a shape: his father's. His father laughed mirthlessly, and stretched out a long, white hand toward Draco's golden hair. Suddenly, Draco couldn't take it any more.
"NO!!" he screamed, breaking the spell. His father paused, startled by the outbreak. Filled again with power and hatred, Draco whipped out his wand, shouting out words he didn't know or understand. His father shrieked, then fell to the floor, stone dead. Triumphantly, Draco rushed toward the girl, crying out her name. She turned and, seeing him, smiled broadly. He threw himself into her arms, sobbing. She gently kissed his hair as they clung to each other.
"I did it... I'm free..." Draco choked between sobs.
"I know," she said softly, "And now, I am too..."
Draco raised his head and looked into her eyes. It was her, it was really her, the girl of his dreams. He remembered the first time he saw her. Naturally, his first instinct had been to throw himself into her open arms, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Not until now. But it didn't matter... they were together now, and nothing would ever, could ever tear them apart again. He drew her in closer, planting a kiss on her quivering lips.
"Draco, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
Draco Malfoy sat straight up in bed. He blinked. Goyle was staring at him from across the dormitory in what appeared to be disgust. He glanced down, then quickly released the blanket he had been clutching lovingly to his chest. His eyes flashed dangerously across the room.
"Well? Why did you wake me up?"
Goyle cowered a bit under his glare. "Well, um... you see, you were talking in your sleep, and it woke me up. So I sat up in bed and saw you, er, having at your blanket."
"You must have dreamed it."
"Oh. Okay."
"Go to sleep."
"Right. G'night, Dra-"
"Now."
"Right."
Draco lay back down as well. 'Stupid idiot,' he thought to himself, angrily rolling over. He thought about his dream. 'Oh shit, wonder what I was saying.... Damn that girl! Why'd she have to go and be the One?' Muttering to himself, he slowly fell back asleep.
Harry sat down with a thud at the Gryffindor table. There were two more thuds as Ron and Dean sat down beside him. Hermione looked up at them over her porridge. Dean looked a little happier than he had the night before. He seemed to be settling into his new life without Seamus at Hogwarts quite well. Ron looked sleepy, his red hair tousled and falling over his forehead and ears. Hermione wasn't sure that he had ever been visibly affected by the Massacre, not even the day it had happened. Harry, however, looked dark and stormy. His gaunt face and the dark circles under his eyes made him appear haggard and agitated. Indeed, he hadn't slept that night. Hermione searched his face for a sign, eyes full of concern. Just then Alden sat down quietly beside her. The flash from Harry's eyes was all Hermione needed: he had been thinking about the new girl.
For just a moment, Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. She had been thinking about Harry all night, dreaming about him. It was so odd; ever since she had last left Krum, she had not stopped thinking about Harry. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Hermione felt guilty. She remembered their fourth year, when they had held the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. She shuddered, remembering Cedric's pale face with it's fixed look of terror and surprise. But that wasn't why she had remembered it the night before. What had struck her had been an article Rita Skeeter had written. It had portrayed her as a 'scarlet woman', she remembered Ron coining it. The article had talked about her toying with Krum and Harry's affections, and now it seemed that she was. Hermione reflected on the jealousy she had just felt. It didn't matter, she decided, if Harry spent the night thinking about Alden and not her. What was more important was that she didn't find herself drifting into the love triangle Skeeter had so innocently hit upon three years ago.
The others had just started eating when they heard the rustle of hundreds of wings. Owls came whooshing in, circling around before gliding down to the students. Harry scanned the air for Hedwig, but there were no white owls to be seen. There was another bird, however, that caught everyone's eyes. A small brown hawk was zooming in and among the owls, apparently having the time of its life. The owls seemed to find the little bird annoying, nipping at it as it swooped by them like a bullet. Harry heard a tinkling laugh and a sharp whistle. He turned his head as he watched the hawk dive toward its master, surprised that it was heading toward Gryffindor. It stopped abruptly about a foot over their heads, gently circling before settling on Alden's outstretched arm. She gently stroked the bird's feathery head as the rest of the room stared at her blankly. She didn't seem to notice, gently pulling a letter off its leg and shifting it softly onto her shoulder. Unfolding the letter, she sat silently pouring over it while the falcon gnawed on her hair and took a sip from her goblet.
The room soon slipped back into its usual buzz. A large barn owl landed before Hermione, presenting her with a copy of The Daily Prophet. She took it, thanking the owl with a crust of the toast she had just started. Unfurling the paper, she spat out the water she had just sipped.
"What is it now?" Harry asked sullenly. He was sure it had something to do with him. Or maybe Hogwarts.
"Listen to this." Hermione cleared her throat and read:
"This year, despite protests from wizards nation wide, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has once again opened its doors. The notorious Headmaster Dumbledore informed the press last week that he believes that the students are just as safe at school as they would be at home. In fact, studies have repeatedly shown that one of the safest places in the world is within the school's enchanted boundaries. But this has not helped to strengthen the confidence of many parents who refuse to send their children back to school.
Most parents blame this mistrust of the school's security on the unfortunate incident last year now referred to as the 'Hogwarts Massacre'. One parent explains this fear, saying, 'I don't feel any safer sending my children their now then I did the year after You-Know-Who arouse again. I don't care if they say they've put the person suspected of the killings into Azkaban. For all I know, the real culprit is still abroad. My son has friends who were murdered. As a parent, I don't see how I can let him go back.'
As readers may remember, the convicted student Miss Parkinson was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for the murder of nearly half of the first and second year students, in addition to some upper classmen, visiting alumni, and two faculty members. Though she pleaded guilty, many parents say they still believe that her conviction was a cover-up for another student at the school who would no doubt return to finish the job they started last year. When asked who they thought the guilty party was, the answers were everywhere from no idea to Harry Potter himself."
Hermione put down the paper, catching Harry's eyes. Harry was sitting in a shocked silence, hardly able to breathe or move. After all he had been through, all he had suffered after the attacks, it was impossible to conceive that anyone could accuse him of being connected with it. Ron gently patted him on the back while Dean mumbled something. Hermione simply gazed into his eyes sympathetically. Harry remembered crying for weeks, moving from Hermione's shoulder to Ron's every other day. He had often thought about it, and realized how lucky he and Dean were to have such good friends. He could still feel Hermione's soft tears trickling down onto his hair as she sat on the couch with him, letting him bawl, never saying a word. He could still see Ron sitting on the other couch, arm protectively around Dean. During the whole year and summer, Harry had never seen Ron cry. He had often wondered about it, but now he had come to accept it as Ron's natural tendency not to show emotion.
There was a rustle of cloak, and the silence was interrupted as Kayla and Silvia Moone slid noisily into seats. Alden looked up from her letter, wiping a tear from her eye. Kayla opened her own copy of the Prophet, folding it and throwing it gently across the table at her. Alden put down her letter, gave a small scrap of bacon to the hawk, and picked up the paper. The little bird snatched up the meat, hopping off of her shoulder and tearing it into bite-sized shreds. Silvia took tossed another piece of bacon to the bird, who bristled its feathers happily and began to gobble it up as well. Alden finished reading the story and looked up at the sisters. "So?"
"We just wanted to point out that they misspelled the name." Kayla said quietly, sitting quite still. Alden's eyes flickered back to the paper, and she glanced over the article again. She paused over a sentence, rereading it. She suddenly sucked in her breath sharply. Her eyes flashed as she tightened her grip on the paper. Instantly, Silvia's thin hand had shot out and curled around Alden's shaking one. Alden took a deep breath, calming herself. She looked up at her American friends, asking quietly,
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Oh, that would've been a lovely way of going about it!" Kayla snapped, as angry about the article as Alden was.
"You should have told me something!"
"Why? Would you have helped?"
"Of course! What the bloody hell are friends for?"
"Alden," Silvia replied softly, "You couldn't have done anything. Let it go. You know now."
"I could have done something if you hadn't hidden this from me." Alden countered coolly, tossing the paper onto the table. Harry turned his head, trying to read the headline. With a sigh, Silvia let her friend's hand go and stood. Kayla rose as well, trying to keep her composure. All three of the girls were obviously having trouble containing their emotions. Kayla looked like she wanted to scream, Silvia looked like she wanted to cry, and Alden, alarmingly, looked like she wanted to kill someone. Harry gulped as he saw Alden's hand go to the pocket her wand was protruding from. The look in her eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Beside him, he felt Dean shudder. The four friends silently breathed a sigh of relief when Alden drew out a piece of paper, leaving her wand untouched. She folded it, then threw it to Kayla. Kayla caught it, looking curiously at her. Alden closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she was much calmer.
"Send that back to America for me. Pharaon is tired."
Kayla examined the paper. "Who should I send it to?"
"The Minister."
Kayla and Silvia gasped. "You had it?" Silvia asked.
"Yes, now send it off." Alden put her head heavily in her hands. The sisters muttered thanks and slipped off to the Ravenclaw table. Dean alone watched them go. Harry and Ron were looking at Alden, whose eyes were closed again. Hermione was looking at the paper.
The hawk, having finished its bacon, fluttered back over to Alden, settling once again on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at the bird. "Now what, Pharaon?" she asked softly. Pharaon blinked, gazing intently back into Alden's sad eyes. Alden looked back around at the others. "Has anyone got some parchment or a quill?"
"I've got one." Ron rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a quill. He handed it to Alden, who tore a corner off Kayla's newspaper, scribbling a note on it. She rolled it up, tied it to Pharaon's leg, and shifted the little bird to her arm. With a whisper from Alden and a rustle of wings, the hawk leapt gracefully into the air, soaring out of the room with the last of the owls, who hooted indignantly at the stranger in their midst.
"I thought the hawk was tired." Harry said, eyes locked on Alden's. She gazed evenly back.
"She's too tired to make it back to America again."
"Then where's she going?"
"None of your bloody business."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah really."
Harry turned away, sullen again. Hermione had finished the article, and turned now to look up at Alden. "I don't get it."
"Don't get what?" Alden averted her eyes as well, now looking toward Hermione.
"What's this story got to do with you?"
"Me personally? Nothing."
"Then why's it important?"
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."
"Oh, come off it..." Harry muttered angrily. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't ask any more questions. Harry picked up the paper. He glanced over the brief article, Ron and Dean reading over his shoulder.
"In international news, yet another crime spree has broken lose in America. The highlights so far include the raiding of the American Ministry's Department of International Affairs and the murder of the Department's head, Terrace Doogle. In a riot led by Death Eaters, a young woman allegedly slipped in disguised as a Ministry security agent and murdered Doogle in the chaos. The suspected woman, Miss Mon, has reportedly fled the country with her sister. Sources say that she was heading for England. There has been a heightened level of security in patrolling Britain's borders, but Ministry officials in both countries are worried that the young women will be able to slip through Muggle security. The American Ministry also reports regret that Miss Mon's sister has fled with her. The elder of the Mon sisters was a loyal and dedicated Ministry official. The Minister has announced that he will fully pardon her if she returns to the country. If any information is found about either of the Mons, please contact the nearest Ministry office. The suspect and her sister of average height, with black hair and pale blue eyes. Please be on the look out."
"Creepy..." Dean breathed, shuddering. Harry and Ron nodded. Something about it was creepy, though they weren't sure why. Perhaps it was just the idea that things like that were happening worldwide. Perhaps it was because at that moment, they were in the same room as three Americans, and the most dangerous one was sitting across from them.
As they slowly filed to class, Harry looked around for Alden. She was, as Dumbledore had promised, in and among the students. Harry had trouble keeping an eye on her. Every time he saw her she vanished, reappearing a few students away. Harry shook his head, giving up. Then a soft voice said in his ear, "All's fine, then?"
Harry jumped, looking over his shoulder. Alden had appeared between him and Ron, smiling at them. They both nodded, and with a smile she was gone. Ron tried to follow her away with his eyes, but was forced to turn around again as they trudged down into the basement for Potions. Harry studied his friend's freckled face. A smile was playing over Ron's lips and sparkling in his eyes. Harry felt a tiny smile spread on his own face at his friend's happiness. For a moment, he felt as safe and happy as he had his first year. Silently, he thanked Dumbledore for bringing his niece to Hogwarts for the year. He strode into the dungeon classroom, giddy with simple joy, ready for anything. Well, anything but a welcome back to school quiz. Which they got.
Draco was following a girl. He wanted to tell her something, so he hastened to catch up with her. But the more he hurried, the farther ahead she drew. He dodged past other students, trying in vain to catch up with her. He lost sight of her as she turned a corner. With a burst of speed he rounded it as well. This hallway was empty, and the girl was close. Draco started to sprint toward her, but suddenly he froze. He lunged frantically in every direction, trying to break free of whatever held him, but he couldn't. A dark figure was massing before him, hiding the girl's retreating back. Draco snarled as the blackness took a shape: his father's. His father laughed mirthlessly, and stretched out a long, white hand toward Draco's golden hair. Suddenly, Draco couldn't take it any more.
"NO!!" he screamed, breaking the spell. His father paused, startled by the outbreak. Filled again with power and hatred, Draco whipped out his wand, shouting out words he didn't know or understand. His father shrieked, then fell to the floor, stone dead. Triumphantly, Draco rushed toward the girl, crying out her name. She turned and, seeing him, smiled broadly. He threw himself into her arms, sobbing. She gently kissed his hair as they clung to each other.
"I did it... I'm free..." Draco choked between sobs.
"I know," she said softly, "And now, I am too..."
Draco raised his head and looked into her eyes. It was her, it was really her, the girl of his dreams. He remembered the first time he saw her. Naturally, his first instinct had been to throw himself into her open arms, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Not until now. But it didn't matter... they were together now, and nothing would ever, could ever tear them apart again. He drew her in closer, planting a kiss on her quivering lips.
"Draco, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
Draco Malfoy sat straight up in bed. He blinked. Goyle was staring at him from across the dormitory in what appeared to be disgust. He glanced down, then quickly released the blanket he had been clutching lovingly to his chest. His eyes flashed dangerously across the room.
"Well? Why did you wake me up?"
Goyle cowered a bit under his glare. "Well, um... you see, you were talking in your sleep, and it woke me up. So I sat up in bed and saw you, er, having at your blanket."
"You must have dreamed it."
"Oh. Okay."
"Go to sleep."
"Right. G'night, Dra-"
"Now."
"Right."
Draco lay back down as well. 'Stupid idiot,' he thought to himself, angrily rolling over. He thought about his dream. 'Oh shit, wonder what I was saying.... Damn that girl! Why'd she have to go and be the One?' Muttering to himself, he slowly fell back asleep.
Harry sat down with a thud at the Gryffindor table. There were two more thuds as Ron and Dean sat down beside him. Hermione looked up at them over her porridge. Dean looked a little happier than he had the night before. He seemed to be settling into his new life without Seamus at Hogwarts quite well. Ron looked sleepy, his red hair tousled and falling over his forehead and ears. Hermione wasn't sure that he had ever been visibly affected by the Massacre, not even the day it had happened. Harry, however, looked dark and stormy. His gaunt face and the dark circles under his eyes made him appear haggard and agitated. Indeed, he hadn't slept that night. Hermione searched his face for a sign, eyes full of concern. Just then Alden sat down quietly beside her. The flash from Harry's eyes was all Hermione needed: he had been thinking about the new girl.
For just a moment, Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. She had been thinking about Harry all night, dreaming about him. It was so odd; ever since she had last left Krum, she had not stopped thinking about Harry. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Hermione felt guilty. She remembered their fourth year, when they had held the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. She shuddered, remembering Cedric's pale face with it's fixed look of terror and surprise. But that wasn't why she had remembered it the night before. What had struck her had been an article Rita Skeeter had written. It had portrayed her as a 'scarlet woman', she remembered Ron coining it. The article had talked about her toying with Krum and Harry's affections, and now it seemed that she was. Hermione reflected on the jealousy she had just felt. It didn't matter, she decided, if Harry spent the night thinking about Alden and not her. What was more important was that she didn't find herself drifting into the love triangle Skeeter had so innocently hit upon three years ago.
The others had just started eating when they heard the rustle of hundreds of wings. Owls came whooshing in, circling around before gliding down to the students. Harry scanned the air for Hedwig, but there were no white owls to be seen. There was another bird, however, that caught everyone's eyes. A small brown hawk was zooming in and among the owls, apparently having the time of its life. The owls seemed to find the little bird annoying, nipping at it as it swooped by them like a bullet. Harry heard a tinkling laugh and a sharp whistle. He turned his head as he watched the hawk dive toward its master, surprised that it was heading toward Gryffindor. It stopped abruptly about a foot over their heads, gently circling before settling on Alden's outstretched arm. She gently stroked the bird's feathery head as the rest of the room stared at her blankly. She didn't seem to notice, gently pulling a letter off its leg and shifting it softly onto her shoulder. Unfolding the letter, she sat silently pouring over it while the falcon gnawed on her hair and took a sip from her goblet.
The room soon slipped back into its usual buzz. A large barn owl landed before Hermione, presenting her with a copy of The Daily Prophet. She took it, thanking the owl with a crust of the toast she had just started. Unfurling the paper, she spat out the water she had just sipped.
"What is it now?" Harry asked sullenly. He was sure it had something to do with him. Or maybe Hogwarts.
"Listen to this." Hermione cleared her throat and read:
"This year, despite protests from wizards nation wide, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has once again opened its doors. The notorious Headmaster Dumbledore informed the press last week that he believes that the students are just as safe at school as they would be at home. In fact, studies have repeatedly shown that one of the safest places in the world is within the school's enchanted boundaries. But this has not helped to strengthen the confidence of many parents who refuse to send their children back to school.
Most parents blame this mistrust of the school's security on the unfortunate incident last year now referred to as the 'Hogwarts Massacre'. One parent explains this fear, saying, 'I don't feel any safer sending my children their now then I did the year after You-Know-Who arouse again. I don't care if they say they've put the person suspected of the killings into Azkaban. For all I know, the real culprit is still abroad. My son has friends who were murdered. As a parent, I don't see how I can let him go back.'
As readers may remember, the convicted student Miss Parkinson was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for the murder of nearly half of the first and second year students, in addition to some upper classmen, visiting alumni, and two faculty members. Though she pleaded guilty, many parents say they still believe that her conviction was a cover-up for another student at the school who would no doubt return to finish the job they started last year. When asked who they thought the guilty party was, the answers were everywhere from no idea to Harry Potter himself."
Hermione put down the paper, catching Harry's eyes. Harry was sitting in a shocked silence, hardly able to breathe or move. After all he had been through, all he had suffered after the attacks, it was impossible to conceive that anyone could accuse him of being connected with it. Ron gently patted him on the back while Dean mumbled something. Hermione simply gazed into his eyes sympathetically. Harry remembered crying for weeks, moving from Hermione's shoulder to Ron's every other day. He had often thought about it, and realized how lucky he and Dean were to have such good friends. He could still feel Hermione's soft tears trickling down onto his hair as she sat on the couch with him, letting him bawl, never saying a word. He could still see Ron sitting on the other couch, arm protectively around Dean. During the whole year and summer, Harry had never seen Ron cry. He had often wondered about it, but now he had come to accept it as Ron's natural tendency not to show emotion.
There was a rustle of cloak, and the silence was interrupted as Kayla and Silvia Moone slid noisily into seats. Alden looked up from her letter, wiping a tear from her eye. Kayla opened her own copy of the Prophet, folding it and throwing it gently across the table at her. Alden put down her letter, gave a small scrap of bacon to the hawk, and picked up the paper. The little bird snatched up the meat, hopping off of her shoulder and tearing it into bite-sized shreds. Silvia took tossed another piece of bacon to the bird, who bristled its feathers happily and began to gobble it up as well. Alden finished reading the story and looked up at the sisters. "So?"
"We just wanted to point out that they misspelled the name." Kayla said quietly, sitting quite still. Alden's eyes flickered back to the paper, and she glanced over the article again. She paused over a sentence, rereading it. She suddenly sucked in her breath sharply. Her eyes flashed as she tightened her grip on the paper. Instantly, Silvia's thin hand had shot out and curled around Alden's shaking one. Alden took a deep breath, calming herself. She looked up at her American friends, asking quietly,
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Oh, that would've been a lovely way of going about it!" Kayla snapped, as angry about the article as Alden was.
"You should have told me something!"
"Why? Would you have helped?"
"Of course! What the bloody hell are friends for?"
"Alden," Silvia replied softly, "You couldn't have done anything. Let it go. You know now."
"I could have done something if you hadn't hidden this from me." Alden countered coolly, tossing the paper onto the table. Harry turned his head, trying to read the headline. With a sigh, Silvia let her friend's hand go and stood. Kayla rose as well, trying to keep her composure. All three of the girls were obviously having trouble containing their emotions. Kayla looked like she wanted to scream, Silvia looked like she wanted to cry, and Alden, alarmingly, looked like she wanted to kill someone. Harry gulped as he saw Alden's hand go to the pocket her wand was protruding from. The look in her eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Beside him, he felt Dean shudder. The four friends silently breathed a sigh of relief when Alden drew out a piece of paper, leaving her wand untouched. She folded it, then threw it to Kayla. Kayla caught it, looking curiously at her. Alden closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she was much calmer.
"Send that back to America for me. Pharaon is tired."
Kayla examined the paper. "Who should I send it to?"
"The Minister."
Kayla and Silvia gasped. "You had it?" Silvia asked.
"Yes, now send it off." Alden put her head heavily in her hands. The sisters muttered thanks and slipped off to the Ravenclaw table. Dean alone watched them go. Harry and Ron were looking at Alden, whose eyes were closed again. Hermione was looking at the paper.
The hawk, having finished its bacon, fluttered back over to Alden, settling once again on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at the bird. "Now what, Pharaon?" she asked softly. Pharaon blinked, gazing intently back into Alden's sad eyes. Alden looked back around at the others. "Has anyone got some parchment or a quill?"
"I've got one." Ron rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a quill. He handed it to Alden, who tore a corner off Kayla's newspaper, scribbling a note on it. She rolled it up, tied it to Pharaon's leg, and shifted the little bird to her arm. With a whisper from Alden and a rustle of wings, the hawk leapt gracefully into the air, soaring out of the room with the last of the owls, who hooted indignantly at the stranger in their midst.
"I thought the hawk was tired." Harry said, eyes locked on Alden's. She gazed evenly back.
"She's too tired to make it back to America again."
"Then where's she going?"
"None of your bloody business."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah really."
Harry turned away, sullen again. Hermione had finished the article, and turned now to look up at Alden. "I don't get it."
"Don't get what?" Alden averted her eyes as well, now looking toward Hermione.
"What's this story got to do with you?"
"Me personally? Nothing."
"Then why's it important?"
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."
"Oh, come off it..." Harry muttered angrily. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't ask any more questions. Harry picked up the paper. He glanced over the brief article, Ron and Dean reading over his shoulder.
"In international news, yet another crime spree has broken lose in America. The highlights so far include the raiding of the American Ministry's Department of International Affairs and the murder of the Department's head, Terrace Doogle. In a riot led by Death Eaters, a young woman allegedly slipped in disguised as a Ministry security agent and murdered Doogle in the chaos. The suspected woman, Miss Mon, has reportedly fled the country with her sister. Sources say that she was heading for England. There has been a heightened level of security in patrolling Britain's borders, but Ministry officials in both countries are worried that the young women will be able to slip through Muggle security. The American Ministry also reports regret that Miss Mon's sister has fled with her. The elder of the Mon sisters was a loyal and dedicated Ministry official. The Minister has announced that he will fully pardon her if she returns to the country. If any information is found about either of the Mons, please contact the nearest Ministry office. The suspect and her sister of average height, with black hair and pale blue eyes. Please be on the look out."
"Creepy..." Dean breathed, shuddering. Harry and Ron nodded. Something about it was creepy, though they weren't sure why. Perhaps it was just the idea that things like that were happening worldwide. Perhaps it was because at that moment, they were in the same room as three Americans, and the most dangerous one was sitting across from them.
As they slowly filed to class, Harry looked around for Alden. She was, as Dumbledore had promised, in and among the students. Harry had trouble keeping an eye on her. Every time he saw her she vanished, reappearing a few students away. Harry shook his head, giving up. Then a soft voice said in his ear, "All's fine, then?"
Harry jumped, looking over his shoulder. Alden had appeared between him and Ron, smiling at them. They both nodded, and with a smile she was gone. Ron tried to follow her away with his eyes, but was forced to turn around again as they trudged down into the basement for Potions. Harry studied his friend's freckled face. A smile was playing over Ron's lips and sparkling in his eyes. Harry felt a tiny smile spread on his own face at his friend's happiness. For a moment, he felt as safe and happy as he had his first year. Silently, he thanked Dumbledore for bringing his niece to Hogwarts for the year. He strode into the dungeon classroom, giddy with simple joy, ready for anything. Well, anything but a welcome back to school quiz. Which they got.
