Title: Wisdom From The Dark 12
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling. Well except the part about Sirius, for that you can ...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 12: A Fine Day For Ruin
Tallard Boot was on a raid. He had volunteered for this one like he had for every other one that had came up since Potter's exile. That was three raids in as many days. Most thought he was bucking for promotion. Bright red curses lanced through the dim morning light of this Dover slum. A cartel of Dark relic smugglers had gathered to trade and sell. So far six squads had shown up as back-up and a dozen more were on route. Boot and his comrades had been the ones to lay down the temporary anti-apparition wards; the most dangerous work because they couldn't move after there charms were laid. Each member of the six man squad had to act as nodes for the wards to remain intact. Boot had opted for exposed position in the north quadrant, he had opted to be the bait node.
Now bearing down upon a faceless army of criminal wizards, Tallard met every curse hurled at him with either a shield charm or a deflection charm. Explosions of spell energy erupted in mid air as attacker met defender, auror met smuggler. The cacophony was music to ears of the repentant auror. *Maybe I'm going to turnout like Moody.* Boot ponder idly as he fired of a quick "Stupify." In the midst of a war zone in the false dawn Tallard Boot knew it was going to be a wonderful day. Well for some anyway.
***
Rita Skeeter keep her silence charm firmly around here as she crept out of the layout room. It was exactly 7:03 am ministry time. At 7:05am the front page was magically whisked away to the presses. The delivery owls were dispatched with their bundles and 7:30am. Just in time for breakfast. With any luck no one would notice her switch and she would be at home taking a long soak with a bottle wine. The only thing better than a job well done was a plot covertly achieved. With some creative knife-work she had cut out the article bordering that foolish picture of Fudge. *Imagine being photographed with that silly bowler! How obtuse.* The article itself was of no consequence, merely some sycophantic claptrap churned out by one of the drones on the third floor. *Full confidence of the public indeed. Well we'll see how the polls handle Mr. Fudge after Tallard Boot's, under an assumed name of course, tells his story, with contributions by herself of course.* It was evident that probation did not agree with Rita.
Looking both ways as she gently closed the door behind her, Rita began to whistle a jaunty tune. She even smiled at the front clerk as she flounced out of the Daily Prophet after depositing her mediwizard's note on her editors desk. A sick day was what Rita Skeeter needed. A day to relax, to longue, and most importantly to dodge the imminent explosion. Yes for Rita Skeeter nothing was better than a good article except for one written with her patented brand of malice. Looking up at the overcast sky melting in the path of the rising sun Rita could only think of how wonderful it was to be a reporter.
***
Lucius Malfoy bore a smug look. Of course for a noble son of the Malfoy line smug was the default setting. It was he who brought Falstaff into the fold. All those dinners with Fudge and late night consultations proved fruitful after all. The constant exposure to the Office of The Minister had earned him a place as a confidante. Lucius knew the inner workings and relationships of Fudge's government better than he did his own son. Of course for a noble son of the Malfoy line knowing one's offspring came second to commanding them.
Falstaff's story was a familiar one. A prominently placed pureblood wizard jilted by his fiance for a muggle born. His grief and betrayal were suitable grounds for the twisting of him into a tool of the Deatheaters. Grief could easily be channeled into hate; hate towards the impure. For Lucius, a veteran of the first war, such machinations proved too easy. Falstaff had become a believer in the inherent divinity of wizardkind and none was more devout than a convert. Having a wizard close to the Minister was crucial but even the Dark Lord himself could not predict the full effect of the initiate's action. Fudge had played so effectively into their hands that it was as if Lucius was whispering directlyinto his ear. Potter had been removed irrevocably. The Dark Lord would win the war long before Potter could return or Dumbledore could unravel Fudge's incompetence.
With a particularly malicious grin Lucius remembered the glee that his and Falstaff's report had brought to the master. It was a quite a coup and was the first step to phasing that fool Wormtail out of the inner circle. Now he was at the master's right hand with, to a lesser extent, his convert Gavin Falstaff. Yes with Harry Potter cast to the wolves on the continent and Fudge turned on "dissenters" it was a wonderful time to be a Deatheater.
***
The scuttle-but was that Fudge was going to take the brunt of that Potter business. No if, ands, or buts about it, Fudge had stuck his neck out with that Falstaff affair. A pity that when he pulled it back he'd lost that stupid bowler. Malcolm Dawkins supposed that was the price of being a public figure. All that influence, all that power, but not a leg to stand on when the times got tough. Yes it was moments like these that Dawkins repeated the mantra of every minor official and dignitary in the world: Plausible deniably. With that came the equally soothing term of: Negligible accountability. *Why Dawkins had just been doing his job, done only what his superiors wanted. He had felt sorry for Potter, no no, he had felt sorry for Harry. Poor lad, a bit of bad luck was all.* Malcolm Dawkins had not survived seventeen years in the Ministry to fall with the likes of Cornelius Fudge.
Dawkins quickly eased on his outer robe and punched out for a coffee break. Looking up at the sun a few hours short of it's full zenith, all the grey clouds being scorched by its cleansing rays, Dawkins could not help but wonder about the poor souls that were less fortunate than he.
***
Percy Weasley was still in charge of the office. McTavish's was still on vacation but Langley was due back from running the seminar circuit on the continent some time today. After his little outburst during the Ministry Assembly, Percy had been given his notice: he was to resign when the office could be manned by a "loyal" Ministry Official. This didn't bother Percy in the slightest. The work had proved beyond him, 130 hour week was no longer Percy's idea of his civic duty. Of course McTavish had a tendency to "lose track of time" during his fishing trips. In all likelihood he was halfway to Ireland on his skiff Ahab trawling for the one that got away. The fishing enthusiast was more than a little obsessive about his recreation.
So Percy was forced to work and wait until Miss Langley deigned to make an appearance. She was late but she usually was. It would be with great relish that Percy would drop the mounting caseload onto her lap. Yes, fingers worked to the bone with baggy eyes and unkempt hair Percy Weasley waited to vacate his post. He was looking out over the mountain of paperwork towards the one window in the office when the door swung open.
"I'm BAAACK!" declared Langley in her high nasal voice that made Percy winch. Suddenly a bird chirped and Percy noticed how fine a day it was. Quickly grabbing his coat he motioned toward the mounds of document pileds on every available inch of desk space. On top of his desk however was a neatly written letter of resignation attached to the Minister's notice.
"It's all your yours." He quickly said as slide past her and out of the office all the time humming merrily. Yup, it was a fine day to be unemployed. He wondered what the twins were up to. Well he had time to find out now.
***
It was nine o'clock and Cornelius Fudge was just settling in for a days work. He had cold cloth that he used to wipe his brow every few minutes and occasionally he would take a deep gulp from the large cup of Irish coffee on his desk. He loved times like these, times before his work found him. After that ordeal with Potter, Fudge had given Gavin the week off. *The poor man had suffered two much stress recently to be productive to the Office. First his fiancé and that nonsense with the Deatheater robe. A ghastly business that was, but where did Potter find a robe like that in the muggle world.* His voice of reason quickly commanded him against further speculation.
*No matter, the boys is gone now anyway.* With a sigh he learned back in his high back chair and patted the damp cloth upon his neck. Reaching for his coffee he was startled when both of the massive doors to his office exploded open. The intrusion caused him to spill the hot beverage on himself. Hissing in pain Fudge watched as his Press Analyst and Foreign Liaison dashed toward him with desperate expressions upon their faces. When they reached his desk, panting, the both began speaking in a rush.
'Minister, the Dutch have Black but won't extradite him!" exclaimed the one on the left.
"Sir, you need to see the Prophet, " urged the frazzled man on the right.
His Liaison started speaking quickly about Due Process and some such thing as Fudge opened the newspaper that was dumped into his coffee stained lap. Time seemed to screech to a halt for Fudge. He no longer heard the prattle that the two men were spouting, only the pulse of his own blood in his ears. Before him was a picture of himself smiling blissful on the front page. The headline screamed "CORRUPT CORNELIUS BLAMES BOY-WHO-LIVED." Underneath was a full account of the events that Fudge had been assured was privileged. Looking out the window, searching for a way to deny this horrible happening, Fudge noticed that it was actually pretty nice out. A fine day indeed, a terrible week: most definitely.
End 12
Author's Notes
Well now we know what the rest of England has been up too the past few days. Next chapter I promise you will revolve completely around Harry and the Living, yes Living not dead and never dead, Sirius Black.
Oh and ten points to oceanic, Kota Dawn and ZeonReborn for getting my intentions from the last chapter's title.
To any of you who have added me or my story to you favs list and to each and everyone who has read this fic, I thank you.
To my reviewers I must bow and offer my most profuse thanks. That means you all: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan, Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, Myrddin Ambrosius Jr.book worm, litine, Jason Gregory, Renee Fay and Rachel A. Prongs. You feedback is greatly appreciated and if I mess anyone, you have my apologies. I consider all of you suggestions.
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling. Well except the part about Sirius, for that you can ...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 12: A Fine Day For Ruin
Tallard Boot was on a raid. He had volunteered for this one like he had for every other one that had came up since Potter's exile. That was three raids in as many days. Most thought he was bucking for promotion. Bright red curses lanced through the dim morning light of this Dover slum. A cartel of Dark relic smugglers had gathered to trade and sell. So far six squads had shown up as back-up and a dozen more were on route. Boot and his comrades had been the ones to lay down the temporary anti-apparition wards; the most dangerous work because they couldn't move after there charms were laid. Each member of the six man squad had to act as nodes for the wards to remain intact. Boot had opted for exposed position in the north quadrant, he had opted to be the bait node.
Now bearing down upon a faceless army of criminal wizards, Tallard met every curse hurled at him with either a shield charm or a deflection charm. Explosions of spell energy erupted in mid air as attacker met defender, auror met smuggler. The cacophony was music to ears of the repentant auror. *Maybe I'm going to turnout like Moody.* Boot ponder idly as he fired of a quick "Stupify." In the midst of a war zone in the false dawn Tallard Boot knew it was going to be a wonderful day. Well for some anyway.
***
Rita Skeeter keep her silence charm firmly around here as she crept out of the layout room. It was exactly 7:03 am ministry time. At 7:05am the front page was magically whisked away to the presses. The delivery owls were dispatched with their bundles and 7:30am. Just in time for breakfast. With any luck no one would notice her switch and she would be at home taking a long soak with a bottle wine. The only thing better than a job well done was a plot covertly achieved. With some creative knife-work she had cut out the article bordering that foolish picture of Fudge. *Imagine being photographed with that silly bowler! How obtuse.* The article itself was of no consequence, merely some sycophantic claptrap churned out by one of the drones on the third floor. *Full confidence of the public indeed. Well we'll see how the polls handle Mr. Fudge after Tallard Boot's, under an assumed name of course, tells his story, with contributions by herself of course.* It was evident that probation did not agree with Rita.
Looking both ways as she gently closed the door behind her, Rita began to whistle a jaunty tune. She even smiled at the front clerk as she flounced out of the Daily Prophet after depositing her mediwizard's note on her editors desk. A sick day was what Rita Skeeter needed. A day to relax, to longue, and most importantly to dodge the imminent explosion. Yes for Rita Skeeter nothing was better than a good article except for one written with her patented brand of malice. Looking up at the overcast sky melting in the path of the rising sun Rita could only think of how wonderful it was to be a reporter.
***
Lucius Malfoy bore a smug look. Of course for a noble son of the Malfoy line smug was the default setting. It was he who brought Falstaff into the fold. All those dinners with Fudge and late night consultations proved fruitful after all. The constant exposure to the Office of The Minister had earned him a place as a confidante. Lucius knew the inner workings and relationships of Fudge's government better than he did his own son. Of course for a noble son of the Malfoy line knowing one's offspring came second to commanding them.
Falstaff's story was a familiar one. A prominently placed pureblood wizard jilted by his fiance for a muggle born. His grief and betrayal were suitable grounds for the twisting of him into a tool of the Deatheaters. Grief could easily be channeled into hate; hate towards the impure. For Lucius, a veteran of the first war, such machinations proved too easy. Falstaff had become a believer in the inherent divinity of wizardkind and none was more devout than a convert. Having a wizard close to the Minister was crucial but even the Dark Lord himself could not predict the full effect of the initiate's action. Fudge had played so effectively into their hands that it was as if Lucius was whispering directlyinto his ear. Potter had been removed irrevocably. The Dark Lord would win the war long before Potter could return or Dumbledore could unravel Fudge's incompetence.
With a particularly malicious grin Lucius remembered the glee that his and Falstaff's report had brought to the master. It was a quite a coup and was the first step to phasing that fool Wormtail out of the inner circle. Now he was at the master's right hand with, to a lesser extent, his convert Gavin Falstaff. Yes with Harry Potter cast to the wolves on the continent and Fudge turned on "dissenters" it was a wonderful time to be a Deatheater.
***
The scuttle-but was that Fudge was going to take the brunt of that Potter business. No if, ands, or buts about it, Fudge had stuck his neck out with that Falstaff affair. A pity that when he pulled it back he'd lost that stupid bowler. Malcolm Dawkins supposed that was the price of being a public figure. All that influence, all that power, but not a leg to stand on when the times got tough. Yes it was moments like these that Dawkins repeated the mantra of every minor official and dignitary in the world: Plausible deniably. With that came the equally soothing term of: Negligible accountability. *Why Dawkins had just been doing his job, done only what his superiors wanted. He had felt sorry for Potter, no no, he had felt sorry for Harry. Poor lad, a bit of bad luck was all.* Malcolm Dawkins had not survived seventeen years in the Ministry to fall with the likes of Cornelius Fudge.
Dawkins quickly eased on his outer robe and punched out for a coffee break. Looking up at the sun a few hours short of it's full zenith, all the grey clouds being scorched by its cleansing rays, Dawkins could not help but wonder about the poor souls that were less fortunate than he.
***
Percy Weasley was still in charge of the office. McTavish's was still on vacation but Langley was due back from running the seminar circuit on the continent some time today. After his little outburst during the Ministry Assembly, Percy had been given his notice: he was to resign when the office could be manned by a "loyal" Ministry Official. This didn't bother Percy in the slightest. The work had proved beyond him, 130 hour week was no longer Percy's idea of his civic duty. Of course McTavish had a tendency to "lose track of time" during his fishing trips. In all likelihood he was halfway to Ireland on his skiff Ahab trawling for the one that got away. The fishing enthusiast was more than a little obsessive about his recreation.
So Percy was forced to work and wait until Miss Langley deigned to make an appearance. She was late but she usually was. It would be with great relish that Percy would drop the mounting caseload onto her lap. Yes, fingers worked to the bone with baggy eyes and unkempt hair Percy Weasley waited to vacate his post. He was looking out over the mountain of paperwork towards the one window in the office when the door swung open.
"I'm BAAACK!" declared Langley in her high nasal voice that made Percy winch. Suddenly a bird chirped and Percy noticed how fine a day it was. Quickly grabbing his coat he motioned toward the mounds of document pileds on every available inch of desk space. On top of his desk however was a neatly written letter of resignation attached to the Minister's notice.
"It's all your yours." He quickly said as slide past her and out of the office all the time humming merrily. Yup, it was a fine day to be unemployed. He wondered what the twins were up to. Well he had time to find out now.
***
It was nine o'clock and Cornelius Fudge was just settling in for a days work. He had cold cloth that he used to wipe his brow every few minutes and occasionally he would take a deep gulp from the large cup of Irish coffee on his desk. He loved times like these, times before his work found him. After that ordeal with Potter, Fudge had given Gavin the week off. *The poor man had suffered two much stress recently to be productive to the Office. First his fiancé and that nonsense with the Deatheater robe. A ghastly business that was, but where did Potter find a robe like that in the muggle world.* His voice of reason quickly commanded him against further speculation.
*No matter, the boys is gone now anyway.* With a sigh he learned back in his high back chair and patted the damp cloth upon his neck. Reaching for his coffee he was startled when both of the massive doors to his office exploded open. The intrusion caused him to spill the hot beverage on himself. Hissing in pain Fudge watched as his Press Analyst and Foreign Liaison dashed toward him with desperate expressions upon their faces. When they reached his desk, panting, the both began speaking in a rush.
'Minister, the Dutch have Black but won't extradite him!" exclaimed the one on the left.
"Sir, you need to see the Prophet, " urged the frazzled man on the right.
His Liaison started speaking quickly about Due Process and some such thing as Fudge opened the newspaper that was dumped into his coffee stained lap. Time seemed to screech to a halt for Fudge. He no longer heard the prattle that the two men were spouting, only the pulse of his own blood in his ears. Before him was a picture of himself smiling blissful on the front page. The headline screamed "CORRUPT CORNELIUS BLAMES BOY-WHO-LIVED." Underneath was a full account of the events that Fudge had been assured was privileged. Looking out the window, searching for a way to deny this horrible happening, Fudge noticed that it was actually pretty nice out. A fine day indeed, a terrible week: most definitely.
End 12
Author's Notes
Well now we know what the rest of England has been up too the past few days. Next chapter I promise you will revolve completely around Harry and the Living, yes Living not dead and never dead, Sirius Black.
Oh and ten points to oceanic, Kota Dawn and ZeonReborn for getting my intentions from the last chapter's title.
To any of you who have added me or my story to you favs list and to each and everyone who has read this fic, I thank you.
To my reviewers I must bow and offer my most profuse thanks. That means you all: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan, Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, Myrddin Ambrosius Jr.book worm, litine, Jason Gregory, Renee Fay and Rachel A. Prongs. You feedback is greatly appreciated and if I mess anyone, you have my apologies. I consider all of you suggestions.