Chapter 7: Trouble in the Ministry

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"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." 
-Edmund Burke

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Harry awoke the next morning still feeling confused. Unlike his past dreams, which he often forgot as a result of his Occlumency
training, he remembered the dark-haired woman vividly. Her volumous red dress, her sparkling eyes, her silky black hair... he
shook his head, trying to figure it all out. Maybe she was something his mind had made up. Maybe she was something created by
Voldemort to break into his mind. I'm overanalyzing this, he thought, brushing aside his worries. He headed downstairs
for some breakfast. Hermione and Ron were already there, chatting over their toast and eggs. Harry gave Hermione a weak smile,
which was not returned. Still mad at me about the house-elf thing, I guess... Harry poked at his food, not feeling 
hungry. 

"I thought you kids could go into Diagon Alley today, how does that sound?" Mrs. Weasley asked, bringing more food over to the
table.

"Tha's fihm, muhm," Ron said, his voice muffled through a mouthful of toast. Ginny sat down next to him.

"I'm sure your girlfriend finds that very attractive, Ron," she said, just loud enough for Hermione and Harry to hear also.
Harry laughed and Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Sorry," Ron grunted, blushing deep red. Ginny turned her attention to Hermione. 

"Any new prophecies, Hermione?" she asked in a business-like manner. Harry had been wondering the same thing, but after the
house-elf fight, he decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Hermione shrugged.

"No. Although I think that Parvati and Lavendar are quite jealous, you know how much they adore Divination..." She sighed.

"Not like it's something you asked for," Harry said comfortingly, trying to get on Hermione's good side again. She nodded.

"I know. But try telling them that." 

******************

The trio spent the afternoon in what used to be a formal living room but had been transformed into a comfortable den. Hermione
had dragged out all of her old textbooks and she, Ron, and Harry practiced charms and curses using their newly acquired ability
to do magic outside of school. After a few hours, and after having been the subject of several stunning spells, Ron collapsed
onto a plump armchair.

"When I turned 17, I never thought the magic I would do outside of school would just be homework," he whined, crossing his
arms. "Can't we do something else?"

"Like what, Ron?" Hermione asked, exasperated. "We need to work on this stuff, you know how much homework we've had over break!"
Harry heard the door downstairs open. He wasn't surprised by this, as people came and went frequently, but he was unsettled
by the number of voices he heard downstairs. And the urgent tone they seemed to be talking in.... Harry swiftly glanced over
at Hermione, who was still arguing with Ron over homework. 

"Guys, quiet down," he said seriously, walking over to the door and cracking it open slightly. 

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered, looking out the door along with Harry. Ron pushed his way out of the door and peered
over the banister of the stairs, looking down at the group who had just entered. Harry and Hermione crept up behind him, all
of them spying on the Order members who had not yet seen the group of friends. Dumbledore, Tonks, Kingsley, Mr. Weasley, Hestia
Jones, and a young man Harry didn't recognize were having a very serious discussion. The trio crouched on the ground, feeling
excited to finally overhear some Order news. 

Tonks had her arm around Hestia, who seemed quite upset. Dumbledore was talking to her so quietly that Harry, Ron, and Hermione
could not hear what he was saying. Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and the man Harry didn't know where standing to the side, having
a heated discussion.

"Really, that man's off his rocker! What does he think he's doing, he's going to get us all killed!" the man with sandy brown
hair thundered.

"Calm down, Balin. Fudge has made stupid decisions before, this isn't his first," Mr. Weasley sighed, glancing at Hestia.

"It's just a matter of time until it happens to all of us," Kingsley said gloomily.

"Now, don't talk like that!" Mrs. Weasley chided, entering the room. She took Hestia's hand. "Come in the kitchen dear, I'll
get you something to drink." Dumbledore's eyes wandered up to the top of the stairs, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were
crouched, watching the scene. He winked at them.

"Why don't we head into the drawing room to discuss this further," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the left. "I'll join you
momentarily." As the small group moved into the room, Dumbledore climbed the stairs. Glancing nervously at one another as
they realized they had been discovered, the trio stood up shakily. Harry didn't even try to cover up the fact that they had
been listening in on the conversation.

"Sorry, sir," he mumbled apologetically. Dumbledore smiled.

"There is nothing to be sorry for Harry, any mildly curious person who happens to be in the right place at the right time will
eavesdrop on a conversation without even meaning to. I'm sure you'll learn this information soon enough, so I might as well
tell you now." He sighed. "The relationship between the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix has never been a strong
one. In recent years, Minister Fudge has grown fearful of the Order's power and become paranoid that perhaps the Order would
try to take over the government of the wizarding world."

"That would never happen!" Ron interrupted. "Doesn't he realize you're just trying to help?"

"Sadly, Mr. Weasley, he does not. Instead of joining forces, Fudge demands that we stay separate and has begun to dismiss
those who associate themselves with me or the Order from the Ministry. So far, the only one fired has been Hestia Jones, but
I am afraid that more problems will arise."

"Why did she get fired?" Harry asked. Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"Simply because she did not deny her participation in the Order, Harry. Now, I must leave you and discuss this with the Order
members downstairs." He nodded politely and descended the stairs. 

"If we lose this war, it will be because of Fudge," Hermione growled. "Lucky for us all, this is an election year..."

"Really? How does that work?" Harry asked naively. Hermione gave a short laugh.

"Honestly, Harry, I know you grew up with muggles but so did I! I'd have thought you would have figured some of this out by
now." She sighed. "Every six years an election takes place for the minister, as well as many of the heads of departments in
the Ministry of Magic. We're allowed to vote, now that we're 17."

"We can vote?" Ron asked, looking slightly interested. "Blimey, I'd never thought of that..." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ron's been raised in a wizarding family with a father who works in the Ministry of Magic and he still doesn't know anything
about politics... quite sad, if you ask me," she remarked.

"Hey! I just don't find politics, er, interesting," he said defensively. Hermione smiled.

"Well I find it simply fascinating," she replied.

"Dinner's ready, you three! Mum's made steak and kidney pie!" Ginny yelled up the stairs. Ron grinned.

"Mmm, I'm starved. Let's go!"

"That's a surprise," Hermione mumbled playfully under her breath. 

"He's a growing boy," Harry said in a high-pitched voice, and the three of them cracked up, laughing until they entered the
kitchen, where they quickly noticed the mood was very solemn. As they took their seats quietly, Harry observed that all of
the people who had been in the foyer earlier had stayed for dinner. His eyes rested upon the man across from him; his sandy
brown hair fell gracefully into his face, framing his eyes that were full of worry and unrest. The man looked vaguely familiar,
but Harry couldn't place him. Kingsley saw Harry staring at him and smiled.

"Balin, I don't think you've met these three. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger - this is Balin Dawlish."

"Nice to meet you," Harry muttered, smiling a bit. Dawlish nodded to them.

"Good to meet you all. I've just joined the Order over the summer, so I'm sure I'll be seeing you all frequently." His lips
curved upward into what was supposed to be a smile, but the exhaustion and fear behind his eyes still was visible. A loud 
crash at the other end of the table made Harry turn his head quickly: Tonks had managed to spill a glass of pumpkin juice
all over poor Hestia Jones. 

"Oh, don't worry, we'll have this cleaned up in no time," Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully, pulling out her wand. Hestia glanced
up at Mrs. Weasley before bursting out in tears. "Everything's going to be fine dear, don't worry," Mrs. Weasley repeated
sympathetically as Hestia sobbed. 

"I can't live without a job! What will my family say? How will I pay the rent? Why-" Hestia cried, wiping her tears with a
napkin.

"Don't worry about having a job," Dumbledore said quietly, placing his hand comfortingly on top of hers. "I have the just the
thing for you."

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Remus Lupin dragged his suitcase up the front steps of a gloomy-looking building. Its tattered gray walls seemed foreboding and
the city around the structure was dirty and run-down. A creaking sign above the doorway read "Fairfax Boarding House". Remus
took a deep breath and entered the front door. A small bell above the doorway clanged as he entered, and a shabbily-dressed
woman hurried out. She smiled sweetly at Remus, reminding him of Molly Weasley.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked graciously. Remus shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Well, er, actually, I was told you had an open room..." he said hesitantly.

"Yes! Yes, of course. May I ask who you were told by?" she asked, examining him a bit suspiciously. "You're not Remus Lupin,
are you?" 

"Yeah, actually I am," he said, very surprised. Great, she already knows who I am. My reputation has preceded me. She'll
never give me a room knowing I'm a werewolf...

"Oh, good! So pleased to meet you. Albus mentioned you might be down this way." She turned her back to him and entered the
kitchen. "Come inside, dear, we'll get you some tea." She glanced around to make sure no one else was near. "And just to let
you know, it isn't all magicfolk in here, we've got a few muggles too. That's my first rule, no magic outside your room. We
don't want them asking questions, you know. Rule number two, rent is six Galleons a month, not too expensive, but as you'll
see, there isn't much here. Rule three-"

"So you'll take me then?" Remus asked, surprised. She smiled at him as she set down his teacup.

"Of course! Albus has told me all about you. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful tenant. Now, as I was saying, rule three..."

After having tea, Remus headed upstairs to his room. Gayle Fairfax, the woman who owned the building, was apparently a widow
who ran things on her own since her husband had died in some sort of accident a few years past. Remus sat on his bed and
surveyed the room. It's not much, but it'll do fine, he thought happily. The past few months had been simply dreadful;
he had been unable to find an apartment and was struggling to find odd jobs to have enough money to survive. He had saved up
a little money from his job as a professor at Hogwart's last year, but that would surely be spent on rent within the next few
months. He ran a hand through his graying hair as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had come here to south England
for a job interview. He hoped desperately that he could get the job; not only was it something he had wanted to do for a long
time, but it could give him additional contacts, and he could once again become an active and helpful member of the Order of
the Phoenix.

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"Bloody hell, Harry, look at that one!" Ron cried in amazement, pointing at the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry,
Ron, and Hermione had come to Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies, but instead Ron seemed obsessed with the new line
of brooms that had just come out that summer. "The Inferno 4000," he whispered, putting his face up against the glass. "Merlin,
she's a beauty-"

"Ron, come off it! We've got to get to Flourish & Blotts," Hermione reminded him. "You can goggle at all the new brooms later."
Ron stayed glued to the window. "Harry?" she said helplessly. Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder and managed to wrench him
away from the display case.

"Come on, mate, we have to get all of this first," he said, waving his list of school books in front of Ron's eyes. Reluctanty,
Ron followed Harry and Hermione as they passed the stationary store and arrived at Flourish & Blotts. They purchased all of
their books; Harry and Ron only had a few, as most were the same as their books last year for their N.E.W.T. level classes.
Hermione, on the other hand, purchased an armload of books.

"What are you going to do with all of those?" Ron asked incredulously as they left the store and walked back out onto the street.

"Read them, of course," Hermione answered smartly. "What else do you do with a book?"

"I'd use it as a doorstop... or maybe for a bonfire," Ron muttered. Hermione attempted to smack him but couldn't because of the
load in her arms. Harry stood by, laughing as he watched.

"You can't just read textbooks all the time. A little outside reading is fun!" she insisted.

"A little?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Let's get sundaes," Harry said, noticing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor just around the corner. They agreed and Hermione
set her books on the table with a loud thump.

"I'm hoping these will last me a while," Hermione said, glancing over the stack of books.

"Mione, you know you'll be done with them all by next Tuesday. You're just that smart!" Ron told her. She giggled. Harry made
a gagging noise.

"Stop flirting you two, it's making me sick!" he said, feigning disgust. They all laughed as Mr. Fortescue came out with their
sundaes. Harry sat back in his chair and sighed. "This is great... think they'll mind if I skip seventh year and just spend it
in Diagon Alley eating ice cream?"

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Harry was feeling a bit apprehensive about going to bed that night. He had not mentioned his odd dream to anyone, but he still
remembered it vividly. He couldn't understand why he recalled this one so well when he normally forgot his dreams within a few
hours.

"Night, Harry," Ron mumbled, turning off the light between their beds.

"Goodnight, Ron," Harry answered listlessly, staring at the ceiling. Sleep came to him quickly, more quickly than he had hoped
it would....

And there she was. The same woman, wearing the same dress, with the same expression on her face.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted him quietly. "I hope you are taking my advice to heart. You know how powerful Voldemort is now, and
if he can master the use of the weapons he has recently discovered, he will only be worse." Harry frowned at her.

"What weapons? What are you talking about? Who are you?" he asked, feeling frustrated. She smiled.

"I'm afraid that I may only answer your last question. My name is Dulcinea Rosalind Garcia."

"This isn't real, it's just a dream," Harry said out loud. The woman looked at him, her expression stern.

"It may be a dream, but the message is real, Harry Potter. You must stop Voldemort - and soon." Her face drifted away and Harry
was caught again in a dark and deep slumber.

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