Harry wanted to slip off to return to Dumbledore's office and get updated on the latest news of the attacks but it just wasn't meant to be. The Gryffindors seemed to be drawing together in response to the day's news of the attacks and Saturday evening had nearly everyone gathered and talking quietly in the Common Room. Some were trying to get work done and some had obviously retreated back up to their dormitories. It seemed Gryffindor Tower was as crowded as it had ever been yet was still usually quiet.
When Harry had returned from the kitchens to request an assortment of food to bring back to Gryffindor Tower, he found Katie, still teary-eyed and emotional, but clutching a very uncomfortable looking Ron.
Harry almost felt a twinge of amusement at his friend's predicament but one look at Katie erased any humor from the scene. Ron had less experience with girls, especially hysterically sobbing girls, than almost anyone Harry knew. He set down one small basket of food by them and it sounded like Katie had said a muffled thank-you and then resumed her tearful recollections about the memorable times she, Alicia, Angelina and the twins had had throughout their years at school. Harry just gave Ron a nod and a tight smile that he hoped conveyed to his friend that he was doing the right thing by just listening and being there.
Walking around a group of his third year Defense students who were talking several first and second years through the Disarming Charm, he came up behind Hermione's armchair. She had a small table pulled up before her and was writing furiously with a quill as she hunched over the table.
"Hey," he said, leaning over the back of her chair and giving her shoulders a squeeze. "I'm thoroughly knackered. I gave Katie a basket of food from the kitchens." He jerked his head over towards the nook where Ron was cautiously offering Katie a roasted leg of chicken. "I've got more here for anyone else. Can I just leave this with you? I think I'm going to head up to bed."
Hermione looked up at him and could see the exhaustion in his face. "Of course," she said as she took the other large basket of food from Harry. "Have you had a chance to speak with Professor Dumbledore again?"
Harry shook his head. "No, there just wasn't a chance today. I'll see him tomorrow. I have my time scheduled with him in the afternoon."
Hermione nodded her understanding. It had been difficult for them to even have a word alone much less for Harry to slip away. "Well, good night," she said as he leaned over a placed a quick kiss on the top of her head.
Up in the sixth year boys' dormitory, Harry changed quietly, noticing that both Seamus' and Neville's hangings were drawn. Harry dug through his trunk and pulled out his photo album before he climbed into his four-poster and settled under the duvet.
Propping his pillows behind him, he cracked open the album. He hadn't looked at it in quite some time. He'd been too busy worrying about the present and preparing for the future to dwell upon the past. As he turned the pages, the faces of his parents smiled at him. He was searching through the faces of their friends though. There was Sirius, flashing a handsome grin at whoever was snapping the photo. Then Harry saw what he was looking for: the plump and happy looking face that so resembled Neville's. It was a picture of Alice Longbottom holding a baby with a tuft of black hair as Harry's mum looked down lovingly at the child. The opposite page in the album had a picture of Sirius holding the baby Harry, whirling him around high above his head as Harry's father looked on, laughing. Harry could almost hear his father's laughter now echoing in his mind.
Harry found two more pictures with his godmother; one even had Frank Longbottom in it while he held a small infant that Harry suspected had to be Neville. Yawning, Harry kept on looking at the photos until their faces began to blur. When he finally did fall asleep, it was with the echoing sound of his father's chuckling amongst other voices, which Harry dreamed belonged to the people in the photos.
"Remus?" Harry said, surprised as he entered Dumbledore's circular office, only to find the tired and worn face of his father's old friend standing over the worktable upon which an assortment of parchments were still spread.
"Hello, Harry," Remus replied with a smile that seemed to drain a tremendous amount of energy.
"How's Tonks? I heard you were sent to find her yesterday to give her news of her father."
Remus sighed sadly. "Yes, yes I was. She's…well, one minute she's shocked and near tears and then the next she's raging for revenge."
"But her mum's alright, right?"
"Yes," Remus said. "We took her mum over to old headquarters this morning after they were given the go-ahead to leave St. Mungo's. The Healers couldn't find anything wrong with her besides traumatic shock. Have you seen the latest numbers?" Remus asked as he shuffled through and held up a parchment.
Harry took the parchment and read the tallies: …28 separate targets attacked…39 killed during attacks…17 total survivors from attacks…
"We've determined that nearly all of the families attacked somehow involved a pureblood who married a muggle or muggleborn," Remus said. "It sounds like a typical Death Eater political statement and a warning. It has all the hallmarks of their pureblood platform and they attacked several well-known names-- that sends the message that no one has a chance against them." Remus sighed heavily and his fist clenched upon the table. "The survivors are a little puzzling; seventeen of them--all women. None of the women can remember anything from the point when they were knocked out. They all pretty much say they thought they were as good as dead. It's a mystery, though, I wonder if it might mean whoever was carrying out the attacks was inexperienced and they just had a problem with killing women."
"But some women did die?" Harry asked, thinking of Angelina Johnson.
"Oh, yes, I'm afraid so," Remus said. He uncovered the map that was still on the table and gestured at it as he said, "We can tell there must have been at least a half-dozen groups of Death Eaters about that night."
"How?"
"By comparing the times of attacks and the generalized locations of the hits. There seems to have been a first wave, seven in fact that began simultaneously. From there on, they stagger from when they start but that just reflects that each group and attack took a different amount of time." Remus looked up at Harry and asked, "How are the students handling things?" In a lower, softer voice, he asked, "How are you handling things?"
Running a hand through his hair, Harry said, "Fine, fine. Everyone is…well; I think it's sinking in with everyone what's happening. Everyone's talking and anyone who has parents or family that have talked about the last war can be heard repeating everything they grew up hearing."
"And how are you?" Remus repeated, not falling for Harry's effort to dodge the question about himself.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment and quietly said, "Fine. I'm fine." His eyes opened to see Remus adopting a skeptical look and Harry added, "I…I'm still processing it all. I mean I never really even thought about whether or not I had a godmother so…you know. Where's Dumbledore?" It was past the time to start his scheduled training with the old wizard and thus far, the only person in the headmaster's office Harry had seen was Remus.
"He's at Number twelve. He's been all about this morning—the Ministry, the Wizards Council, St. Mungo's. He was running late when he arrived at the house and asked me to Floo here to see you and to apologize to you for his not being able to make it back here in time."
"Is he returning soon?" Harry asked. Things just didn't seem like they would be quite under control until he saw Dumbledore twinkle and pop a lemon drop into his mouth.
Remus shook his head and shrugged. "Don't know. He's with Tonks and her mother. He's working with Andromeda to see if she remembers anything helpful. She hasn't been talking much and Moody thinks there's a chance she may have been Memory Charmed. Then again Moody thinks there's a chance just about anything and everything has happened to nearly everyone," Remus said with a roll of his eyes. "Albus suggested I work with you for a while if you wanted. What do you feel like doing?"
"Duelling, but there's no room for it in here."
Harry looked about the room and heard a few of the portraits exclaim and grumble things like, "I should think not!" and "Certainly inappropriate!"
Remus gave a wry smile and said, "We should probably stick here to the office in case Albus returns."
"Well, then we're pretty limited to Occlumency or Legilimency or just talking," Harry said. "I take it you don't want to volunteer to let me break into your mind and practice interpreting images, do you?"
Remus looked extremely unsettled by that notion so Harry waved it aside and said, "I don't blame you; it's awful. Have you heard any news about whether Voldemort's been recruiting and if so, how many and from where? I know Goyle left Friday night to start his Death Eater career."
"Really?" Remus looked surprised. "Severus said just a few minutes before you got here that he had yet to get any word from his students about why Gregory Goyle disappeared. He was in here to drop off a note for Albus; said he was going to leave the castle for a while to try to find out more information. Are you just guessing?"
"Nuh-uh," Harry said shaking his head and feeling a bit smug about knowing this before Snape found it out. "I've got some sources you know." At Remus' raised-brow look, Harry went on. "There are two, actually three, Slytherins in the DA: Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. Tracey and Daphne confirmed it for me. The odd thing is, they've been told to specifically keep quiet, to not speak on it at all. I had to guess what I thought happened and they confirmed it for me. It all makes sense really. Now that I think about it, it's a wonder Goyle ever even came back for this year at all. He probably had to get allowances to pick up the few NEWT courses he did try to take."
"Well," Remus said, frowning in thought and taking a seat at the worktable, unearthing the front page of the Sunday Prophet. "That might explain why Severus said he wasn't able to get anything out of his students. You're sure you trust these two?"
Harry thought for a moment before saying, "Yeah, yeah I do." At least he liked to believe he could.
As Harry took a seat of his own, Remus perked up and asked, "Has anyone in your class wondered about any strange assignment's Severus had to give? I think it's over by now."
"What? What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.
"Wardings on their families' homes?" Remus prompted. Harry's eyes lit with recognition and he nodded. Remus asked, "You had to hand it in by now, yes?"
Harry nodded, "Yes, last week. Why?" Harry's face darkened and he gave Remus a stern look as he said with a deeper voice, "Why?"
"It was an instruction from Voldemort he said. But Dumbledore agreed that they wouldn't tell you or Hermione before the assignment was done to ensure your reactions were authentic."
"But—why? And yes that certainly worked well--Hermione got a week worth of detentions for going spare as the assignment was given. By the time she began to do some of the reading for the assignment, she was going on and on about how pointless it really was. She found all sorts of mad rituals, there was one where the foundation of every home was built upon a stone bathed in the blood of a sacrificed child!" Harry shuddered at the thought. "Over half the class that we talked to said the weren't taking it very seriously. In the end, Hermione just wrote that her main protection on her home was that it didn't exist anymore."
"And what did you write?" Remus asked.
Harry shrugged. "I wrote that not even I knew everything that protected me at my home, which is true. I also cited my aunt and uncle's abrasive personalities as being defences that would drive away anyone wishing to intrude. You say Voldemort instructed Snape to give that assignment?" Harry shook his head. "I don't know many people who took it very seriously. Only a few people I know of wrote home to ask about their homes and I know Lavender Brown got a tetchy reply from her mother that it was not something she needed to know nor was it something that was to spread about. Even Hermione didn't care about what mark she would get on it. What happened to the papers we wrote?"
"Dumbledore collected them from Snape. He had to let him give the assignment but then took them and needless to say, I don't think you'll be getting them back. I think Severus is to report back that some students or parents complained and that Dumbledore seized them immediately after the class."
Harry thought back to the class the previous week when the homework had been handed in. He did recall, now that he thought about, seeing Dumbledore in the hallway just outside the classroom as they exited the class. "But why? Would the information really help him to plan attacks? They didn't seem to have too much trouble with, what was it? Attacking twenty-eight different homes on Friday night and they didn't need a list of the wards on each of those homes, did they?"
Remus looked nonplussed. "Not as far as I know. No—they never needed to know these things in the past. It's odd really. Voldemort had to know Severus could easily tell Dumbledore about the assignment and bypass having the completed work in his hands and make sure the information was kept from being passed back to Voldemort. It seems too…obvious or at least ill planned."
Harry and Remus mused over various plots and plans that Voldemort might be currently trying to put into motion as they each perused the details of the various attacks strewn across the worktable. By the time, Harry was due to leave and go to dinner, Dumbledore had still not returned. At Remus' suggestion, just before he left, Harry wrote Dumbledore a note about what he knew on Goyle's disappearance. He even sent a copy of the note to Snape via cauldron post.
Sunday evening, both Seamus and Abby Johnson went to McGonagall's office to take portkeys home for the funerals of their murdered family members. On Monday morning, the rumour mill was busy saying that since any student who had lost a family member, had now left to attend some version of a muggle funeral, that therefore only those with direct links to muggles or muggleborns had been targeted. It seemed the overall motive and message of the attacks was easier for everyone to discern than Harry had anticipated. Harry noted that as this topic was often being discussed and many purebloods could be heard often and offhandedly mentioning their pureblood status.
As the weekend seemed to have offered little in the way of relaxation, Harry was truly dragging on Monday morning. But by the time he rolled in Potions class, he was finally waking up. Although this may have had more to do with the fact that Snape took off five points from Harry before he had even sat down simply for yawning in a laboratory. Snape kept watching Harry throughout the class, looking for the tiniest thing for which to dock points. Harry strongly suspected it had to do with Snape reasserting his power after Harry got the information on Goyle before he did.
Speaking of Goyle, while Harry was grinding milkweed seeds, he decided to have a little fun. Millicent Bulstrode, his fellow group member was currently recording the appearance of the simmering liquid in a cauldron, which Padma Patil was stirring. Harry waited until she was done writing and then casually asked her, "So, Millicent, is your team all prepared to take on Hufflepuff this Saturday? Beside yourself, you have only two other new players, right? Montague and Bletchley are gone…and so is that one that looked like a troll—what was his name? The Chaser with that distinct odor?"
Millicent Bulstrode was now grinding her teeth loud enough for Padma to look over with concern.
Harry ploughed on, pretending to be oblivious. "I'd say I hope you've trained those Beaters but god knows it's a miracle how anyone even taught them to dress themselves. I don't reckon you'd have any more hope with getting them to grasp the concept of strategy."
"What the hell are you blathering on about, Potter?" Bulstrode ground out as her teeth made a sound worse than the milkweed seeds under Harry's pestle. "Do you even have a point to your rambling?"
Harry feigned to be insulted and with a hand to his chest, said, "Why, Millicent! I was merely trying to make pleasant conversation from one Quidditch Captain to another. Confidentially, of course," he said in a stage whisper, "Slytherin is the only true competition Gryffindor can count on." Harry winked at Padma who turned with a look of surprise at this. "Surely your House treasures the rivalry as much as ours."
Bulstrode looked like Harry had grown an extra head and was saved from coming up with a retort when Snape, without even pausing as he strode by, said, "Another five points from Gryffindor, Potter, for opening your mouth and creating sound."
Harry wasn't even fazed by this and merely smirked at Tracey who was giving him a fearful look that clearly said she'd keep her head down if she were Harry. But Harry had no intention of doing this. "So, Tracey, what career are you hoping to get into after you leave school?" he asked, gamely trying to make conversation with someone.
Tracey's eyes widened and she blinked before resuming her ministrations on desilking Screechsnap pods and mumbling something incoherent. Millicent, who was standing directly beside her turned to look at her housemate with an incredulous look.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Harry said, still keeping a pleasant smile upon his face as he lit a small fire beneath a round-bottom flask to begin distillation of some dragon's blood.
"Auror," she mumbled, her cheeks taking on a pink tinge.
"What?!" Bulstrode said, croaking like a toad.
Tracey shot her a dark look and loftily said, "It's what I always wanted to do since I first heard about them." She snuck a sideways glance at Harry and said, "It wasn't much of a realistic goal until this year."
Harry grinned. "That's my course of study, too. Course, if Fudge is still running things in the Ministry then, I may have to rethink that." He turned to Millicent who was still eyeing Tracey like she didn't quite know what to make of her and said, "What about you, Millie?"
"Don't call me Millie!" she snapped, glaring at Harry.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter for annoying Miss Bulstrode," Snape intoned from across the classroom, not even bothering to look up.
Harry smiled at Millicent. "My apologies, Millicent. You were saying?"
She shot him an exasperated look and said, "I don't see why I should tell you."
Before Harry could answer, he heard Malfoy's gleefully mocking voice say, "Made it back from the storeroom, Longbottom? Thought you might have wandered off and lost your way. We'd hate for you to go missing and never be heard from again."
Harry glowered from across the room and saw Neville's face go red and his fists clench before dutifully ignoring Malfoy and his comments. Harry saw Millicent watching the incident as well and he said, "What about that pompous prince? Everyone knows he'll be a little Death Eater just like his father. The idiot has declared his open allegiance to that side since he learned how to speak. Is he planning on just being an infidel of leisure?" Both Tracey and Millicent looked sharply at Harry as he said this, but Harry went on as he tapped the parchment funnel holding the powdered milkweed and added it to the reduced dragon's blood. "I mean if his father was still around, sure little Malfoy junior would have to get a respectable job at the Ministry where he could effectively spread his evil from within but now? His father rots in some cell somewhere and who in their right mind would want to hire that spawn? Can you even imagine Malfoy working for a living? I can't. Makes you wonder why he's even still at Hogwarts."
Just as Harry graced the visage of Draco Malfoy with a glare, he witnessed Ernie Macmillan "accidentally" tipping a flask of Bubotuber Pus onto the table so the yellowish green liquid spilled out and spread across towards Malfoy, dripping from the benchtop and onto his lap.
"You imbecile, Macmillan!" Malfoy screeched in a whiney voice, filled with panic. "Sir!" he called up towards Professor Snape, dabbing with his robe at his lap. "Sir!! My…oh!!" Malfoy was now bent over double and sounded like he was about to cry as he stumbled off his stool and bolted for the exit.
Harry and a good half of the class repressed smirks at this as Snape stalked back to the workstation where Neville was directing the vile, petrol-smelling goo back into a flask. "Undiluted Bubotuber Pus—Longbottom!" Snape cried, taking a breath to gear up for a full-fledged rant.
"Oh no sir," Ernie cut in, doing a very good show of looking apologetic. "Malfoy bumped the table into me while I was holding the flask and it spilled. I've told him before to be more careful when one of us is handling dangerous substances." Ernie clucked his tongue while shaking his head and said, "Such a pity."
The steaming look on Snape's face as he desperately tried to think of a way to make this Neville's fault before giving up and storming away, nearly made Harry laugh out loud. As Harry stoppered his flask, he allowed himself a small smile as he thought of how Malfoy should really have learned by now to keep his mouth shut. As the bell rang and he gave the flask over to Millicent for cataloguing, he commented, "It's amazing no one's taken the ferret aside and given him a talking to. He'll taint the lot of you merely by association with his big mouth," and swept out of the room.
He wasn't sure what exactly he had been trying to gain by saying the things he said. No, he did know: he wanted the other Slytherins to put Malfoy in his place. Really, Malfoy was the least cunning of the bunch, what with never once concealing his allegiance to Voldemort and openly threatening to see Harry killed. Malfoy was too full of himself for his own good. The other Slytherins had to see that. They had to see that Malfoy, being the most out-spoken and pompous of the lot made those who never stood up to him, all look like mindless followers. Didn't they?
Harry was snapped out of his musings by the sound of tiny little Professor Flitwick's voice as he entered the Great Hall. "Oh, Mister Potter! Mister Potter!" Flitwick cried, nearly bouncing and reminding Harry oddly enough of Dobby when the little elf was excited. "You've done it, Mister Potter, you've done it! Your insightful inspiration on the catalysing emotion of the Patronus Charm is simply brilliant!" Other students were now watching the scene, and Professor McGonagall was just entering the Great Hall but stopped as she saw Professor Flitwick nearly self-levitating with exuberance as he praised Harry. "I was working with the fifth year Gryffindors this morning and we began to talk about the Patronus Charm at the end of class and Miss Weasley and Mister Creevey told me about your theory—it's brilliant, Mister Potter!" said Flitwick clapping excitedly. "Oh, I do say, I say, how about fifty points to Gryffindor, Mister Potter, for your brilliant deduction! This could help hundreds of witches and wizards to learn to defend themselves! Oh, simply brilliant!"
"Er, thank you, Professor," an embarrassed Harry said.
The tiny wizard then turned to the astonished looking Professor McGonagall and started gushing again, "Oh, Minerva, have you heard?"
"Well, thankfully that more than makes up for all the points Snape took from you in class, Harry," Hermione said as she came up behind him and they each settled in at the Gryffindor table for lunch. "What was so important that had you talking all class anyway?" she asked.
"What?" Harry said indignantly. "We're supposed to be working as a team in these groups and he has the nerve to take points when I talk to them—let him. It obviously makes him happy like little else can." Harry waved away his loss of points due to Snape and said, "Besides, I was just trying to get a feel for how deep Malfoy's claws are into all the other Slytherins. You know, if there's one thing the whole lot of them are, it's cunning. But Malfoy, he seems the least cunning of the lot at times. The rest, they've got to know he's more a liability to them than any threat he could actually pose now with his father off and away."
Hermione looked thoughtful at this and sipped her goblet of pumpkin juice in contemplation. After a moment, she asked quietly, "Harry, do you know where Lucius Malfoy is being kept? Don't tell me," she said hurriedly. "I'm just asking if Professor Dumbledore has told you."
Harry shook his head as he tossed a handful of crisps into his mouth. "No clue," he said after he swallowed. "Think I should ask? Part of me hopes they're somewhere awful," he confessed.
Hermione couldn't muster a reproving look and simply nodded her agreement. "Me, too," she said quietly. She looked up towards the head table and then grinned into her napkin as she nudged Harry to look up there.
Up at the head table, Professor Flitwick was gesticulating wildly as he no doubt extolled the brilliance of Harry's insight with the Patronus Charm to half the staff. Harry saw Professor Dumbledore up there, twinkling away as he listened to the tiny professor before he looked up to catch Harry's eye and wink. Harry also saw Professor Snape walk up to the table, turn to listen to Flitwick and then, in a disgusted snort, spin on his heal and stalk away with his robes billowing behind him. It was enough to make Harry grin.
But it wasn't back to smiles and innocence for long. The first thing Professor Dumbledore said when Harry entered his office after lunch for their scheduled time was not to echo Professor Flitwick's praises but rather to start in on yet more distressing news. There was evidence of three different muggle family killings both Saturday night and Sunday night that bore all the hallmarks of a Death Eater training and torture session.
"The details are…gruesome, at best, Harry," Dumbledore said with no trace of a twinkle in his eyes. "The details come from the reports from nearby muggles that were interviewed by responding Ministry members before being Obliviated." Dumbledore held the parchment still in his hand.
"I should know…I should know what they're capable of," Harry said resolutely and gesturing to see the parchment that the Professor was holding.
Dumbledore handed the parchment over with a long look at Harry and then Harry read. Wife was raped in front of her husband and children on the front lawn…children were Banished up into the air and then used for moving target practice and were hit with green light (Killing Curse)…husband was then made to attack his dead children with a knife… when the wife tried to stop him, he was made to murder her with the knife…the man was then levitated and as he fell to the ground, was hit with a Blasting Curse that blew him to bits. Harry was nearly sick and ready to send up his lunch after reading it. He pushed the parchment back onto Dumbledore's desk. Averting his eyes for a moment, he asked, hesitantly, "Are they, er, all that bad?" referring to the other two attacks Dumbledore had mentioned.
"I'm afraid so."
"And was there a point to these killings?" Harry asked, suddenly demanding an explanation. "The other attacks…what did these helpless muggles ever do to anyone?"
Dumbledore rose from his high-backed chair behind his desk and walked around to put a hand on Harry's shoulder in order to guide him over to the fireside chairs. "It's true, Harry," he said as he gently led Harry to be seated, "that there is no discernable point apparent as the motive for any of these last three attacks. This is how it was the last time, Harry. It's sport to them, going after those who are in truth defenceless against a wizard. A training exercise for those who are new or perhaps out of practice for the sport, but sport nonetheless."
"That's barbaric," Harry said with contempt.
Dumbledore nodded once with a frown and said, "That's how many witches and wizards have been raised, Harry. They believe that our race is superior and therefore, the muggles, inferior. I think we can expect to see a lot of this, unfortunately."
Harry leaned forward and said in a rush, "But don't we know who's involved? How many supporters does he have now? Shouldn't Snape have been able to warn us his ranks were growing and that these attacks were eminent?"
"I'll answer one question at a time," Dumbledore said with a calming gesture towards Harry. "The only reports we have what the attackers looked like is from the muggle witnesses and the extent of that description was 'dark robes and white faces'—masks. It is common for Death Eaters to wear—"
"I know, white masks. I've seen 'em, remember?" Harry said, clearly feeling frustrated.
"I know, Harry." There was a long pause where Harry nearly stared a hole into the hearthside rug and then Dumbledore said, "Knowing that there were approximately six to eight separate groups of attacking Death Eaters on Halloween night and guessing that each group would have, at minimum three people each, we can assume he has at least twenty some servants."
"Were any of those the ones we already know to be his servants?" Harry asked with great effort to remain calm. He knew Dumbledore was right and that attacks like these were bound to become more common; he had to get a grip on himself and not fall apart every time there was some attack.
"There is no way for us to tell, Harry. As for Professor Snape, he has lost some favor of late. As Remus told you yesterday, Professor Snape had to recently report back to Lord Voldemort that he failed in procuring the information from the assignment given to your Defense class. I'm sure this did not help. But beyond even that, there appears to be plans in the works beyond the scope of Professor Snape's knowledge and involvement.
"You will recall that there was a report of potion ingredients being stolen after the break in at St. Mungo's? This is indeed most troubling. For the most part, Professor Snape is in an ideal position here as a Potions Master working for the Dark Lord. He can order and possess a great variety of even ingredients of a questionable nature without causing undue alarm. The fact that ingredients had to be stolen seems to indicate there is someone else whose potion-making skills are in employ by Voldemort. This will limit our insight into just what he is planning."
Harry stared into the empty fireplace, thinking. "Is he still working to locate his incarcerated followers? Just where are they anyway?" he asked, turning to look shrewdly at Dumbledore. Harry knew Dumbledore was the one responsible for Lucius Malfoy and his little friends being lost to the world and unable to be located by the best efforts Voldemort had to put forth.
Dumbledore peered intently at Harry for a moment and, templing his long fingers, said, "I would say, Harry, that I do not wish to tell you for your own good but I fear you would then hex me." His eyes seemed to be twinkling as he said this but Harry was determined to not be amused. "However, I will say, it is a very small number of people, indeed who know the answer to that question. I believe I have been most ingenious in my endeavour to hide these servants from Voldemort but I shall ask you to allow me to keep it a secret for yet a little longer."
Harry wanted to argue but just knew it would be pointless. With a sigh, he asked, "Can you tell me at least who it is that do know?"
Dumbledore smiled and twinkled merrily as he laid a finger alongside his crooked nose and said, "Ah, well, there are a handful that know some details of my plan but no one--save me--knows the whole of it. Now, tell me about how you came to your inspiration upon the emotion behind the Patronus Charm." And with that, their time was brought round to more academic issues.
Harry was just about to leave when he felt the nagging feeling he was supposed to bring up something else.
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.
Harry frowned, trying to recall just what he had forgot. "I'm not sure. I know there was something else I wanted to discuss with you, sir, but I just cannot recall."
"Ah," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile. "The same happens to me more than I care to remember. You'll let me know, I'm sure, when it comes to you."
The week progressed with no one mentioning the absence of Gregory Goyle. Then again, as there were a number of students out of classes because of the losses of a family member, some may have just assumed the same was true for Goyle.
In Charms class, that week, Professor Flitwick abandoned his previously planned curriculum to have everyone working the entire class period upon mastering the Patronus Charm. Harry lost count of the number of times the tiny professor commented that he, Harry, had been the one to just a few days ago, propose that the truly empowering emotion behind the Charm was hope and not merely happiness. Hermione kept beaming at him, but Harry was just plain embarrassed by all the attention and praise. He also noted that both Ron and Draco Malfoy were wearing frighteningly similar scowls just about every time Flitwick mentioned his name.
Before Thursday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry remembered to tell Hermione what Remus had said regarding the wardings assignment and how Dumbledore had seized them. He had not been looking forward to telling her this since the bogus assignment was the cause of her getting a week's worth of detentions from Snape and her notorious 'extra credit assignment'.
"Hmm," she said, frowning slightly and chewing on her lower lip. "Well, that is interesting."
She didn't say anymore and Harry didn't ask. Throughout the class while Snape managed to drone on and make even Defense seem droll, Harry would sneak a glance at Hermione (something he often did whenever the chance was given to him) and see her still worrying her bottom lip in contemplation of some mystery.
As class was nearing the end and Snape was just completing assigning the reading, Hermione's hand shot into the air and Harry got a distinctly bad feeling.
"Professor Snape!" she called out, waving her hand to be seen.
Snape looked up with a glower and seemed to struggle not to let out the most exasperated of sighs on the spot. "What, Miss Granger?" was his tersely ground out reply.
"Well, I was wondering sir, when you expected to return our assignments of home wardings and protections. It's been nearly two weeks and you've usually handed them back by now," she said with what Harry believed was a trace of smugness.
It was true, Harry thought, that is was noticeable that they had not yet had the assignment returned to them with their marks. Usually, Snape was extremely expedient in returning their assignments to them; after all, how difficult was it to pick out Harry's, slap red ink all over it, mark it with a poor grade and some derisive comment and then to toss the handful of remaining parchments down a dingy set of dungeon stairs and grade them randomly according to how they fell? (Harry and Ron had long ago developed this theory of Snape's marking system back around the time of second year Potions.)
Snape had his jaw clenched and was working his mouth into a very straight line. Harry thought he was probably trying to best determine what type of torturous detention to send Hermione off to next. "The syllabus for this course was designed by Headmaster Dumbledore himself. He seems to have had a particular interest in that assignment and they are currently in his possession. If you wish, Miss Granger, I am sure I can give you a mark for the assignment without even needing to read your parchment. Would this be to your liking?"
The bell rang then to signal the end of class and Hermione smiled sweetly and said, "That's quite all right, Professor. Thank you," and then turned to Harry, still smiling innocently and rose to leave.
"What the hell was that about?" Harry asked to no one in particular as Hermione walked out, still smiling.
Ron, who had been walking towards the exit himself shook his head and turned to Harry to say, "Still say she's a bit mental, that one. Mental." Harry wasn't so sure he could really argue the point either.
"Are you going to tell me what your little Defense class stunt was all about?" Harry asked as he caught up to Hermione entering the library.
She rolled her eyes at him, smiling and led him to their normal remote table. "I was giving him a chance to tell his story. Remember what you told me earlier about what Remus said? It does no good if no one here at school can corroborate the story. Besides, it would look dually suspicious if I, Hermione-grade-obsessed-Granger was not to ask about why that assignment seems to have just disappeared now. Oh, hello, Neville," she said, spying their classmate coming around the corner.
"Hey guys," Neville said, seeming to not want to interrupt anything. "Did you want to work more on your project, Hermione?"
"Oh, definitely," Hermione said with a smile.
For whatever reason, Neville had seemed fascinated with the research that Hermione was unearthing for her extra assignment. Neville had even owled his Gran for some books that he knew she had that might help them. Whatever the reason, Harry was happy Hermione had someone other than just him to direct in doing research for her.
On Friday morning, the return of Abby and Seamus (Katie, too since she had insisted on leaving to be at Angelina's funeral) seemed to pull any remaining Gryffindors out of the glum state an awful lot of them had endured throughout the week.
At breakfast, Hermione received two owls: one bearing her usual copy of the Daily Prophet and the other bearing a small, bagged parcel that an owl dropped and then extended a leg pouch just like the Prophet's delivery owl, demanding payment.
"Oh, it's my new subscriptions," Hermione said, excited. She pulled out a coin purse and paid each owl until they went away.
"What's the parcel?" Harry asked.
Hermione was first skimming over the Prophet as was her custom. "Oh, I took out subscriptions to a couple of muggle papers to keep up on what's happening that the Prophet doesn't report. Oh, look," she said lowering the paper to the table and pointing for Harry to see.
Former Star Beater and Head of Magical Games and Sports Officially Declared Missing read the headline at the bottom of one of the inner pages of the paper. Harry read further down, skimming the article quickly. …Ludovic Bagman has reportedly been unstable and been prone to long bouts of mysterious disappearances for over a year now according to Ministry sources…Ministry spokeswizards cite a gambling addiction as the impetus for his deterioration and the subsequent appointment of an interim head of his former department…some have engaged in speculation of retaliation for Bagman's fingering of Algernon Rookwood as a servant of You-Know-Who…Rookwood was one of the eleven convicted Death Eaters who broke from Azkaban prison last year and is currently being held in Ministry custody at an unnamed location…
"Bagman's missing," Harry said quietly. "Maybe the Goblins decided to do him in," he suggested weakly.
"Maybe," Hermione said. "But didn't Si—er, Snuffles, tell us a few years ago that disappearances were common the last time Voldemort was in power?" Hermione said. "Hmm," Hermione mused as she emptied out the bag that contained two newspapers.
One was The Daily Telegraph, which Harry recalled had been a favorite of Uncle Vernon's. The other was The Sun, which Harry definitely recalled being one that his aunt often spoke to being highly offensive and rather tasteless, despite the fact that he'd seen it tucked beneath several fine living magazines and folded into a small square as his aunt still saw fit to read the highly offensive publication. In fact, now that he thought about it, Dudley seemed to have a certain affinity for collecting the old copies of The Sun from the rubbish bin… "Hermione," Harry said warningly as she lifted the Telegraph up and opened it to skim its contents. "Do you really think The Sun is an appropriate thing to have here?"
"Oh," she said, lowering the paper from her face. "I know it's a bit out there, but so is The Quibbler and we know how accurate that can be. I thought it might be a good idea to see what stuff it prints. You know, there's nearly always some tiny grain of truth in all those mad tales." Wanting to prove her point, Hermione pulled The Sun over towards her and scanned the front page (Harry only made out the word 'Bizarre' at the top) and then flipped it open and folded it back as she read down the second page.
"Bloody hell!" Lavender said from across the table. She was sitting directly across from Harry and Hermione and her eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth was hanging open. Parvati soon followed suit in nearly identical fashion.
Hermione had slammed the paper down at their exclamations and was now looking around for the source of their shock. Harry, recalling just now why Dudley had an affinity for collecting the old copies of this paper had a sneaking suspicion just what had set Lavender and Parvati off. He gingerly lifted a corner of the paper and flipped it over for Hermione (and him) to see.
"Bloody Hell!" Hermione said with a gasp as she then quickly covered up the notorious Page Three Girl of the Day, flushing an alarming color of red.
"Yeah," Harry said slowly to Hermione. "Yeah…you best make sure no one else sees that, like especially McGonagall. Yeah…"
Even before the end of breakfast, Harry had heard the gossip beginning from Lavender and Pavarti as to Hermione's new 'tastes' in newspapers. By dinner, the gossip had permutated to be something that had most of the guys smirking at both he and Hermione and had several of the girls glaring at him. He really did not want to know just why. It was with actual relief that Harry slipped out of the Great Hall to the evening's Order meeting.
As every single person who was attending the meeting arrived, they each professed to have a litany of 'notable' observances and numerous suspicions. Hermione quickly instructed Harry how to bewitch a quill to take dictation and he had at least three of them now scratching hurriedly and filling up roll after roll of parchment. There was only a small number of Order members present; Remus, Kingsley, Arthur Weasley, Moody, and few others of the Order's Outer Council who stopped by for only a few minutes. It was rather chaotic and Harry was very grateful they had agreed to use these regular meeting mostly to facilitate the gathering of information. The real work of going over all the information and trying to decipher what it all meant was something that would be done within the Inner Council.
As they began to congregate and everyone talked at the same time, Harry suddenly recalled what it was he'd needed to talk to Dumbledore about--the voices. How he'd been hearing them on Halloween throughout the Order Meeting and how they had seemed to be different than normal. Hearing voices is NOT normal, Harry sternly told himself. He'd been so busy this week that every night thus far, he'd dropped into bed half-asleep before he pulled the duvet over him. He hadn't had a chance to even think about the voices again. Harry turned to see Dumbledore across the room, talking earnestly with Kingsley. Maybe if he told Hermione to remind him to ask talk about the voices, she'd make sure he didn't forget. (That was for sure, she'd be likely to badger him non-stop until he told her about them.)
Harry was just about to roll up the reports Emmeline Vance had just dropped off and head over to Hermione, when Bill Weasley walked in, looking dishevelled and red-faced. The first thing that Bill said was, "Well, Harry, Fudge is now drafting a proposal to allow Ministries to seize assets of prisoners serving life sentences. Edward Planesse, the Finance Authority Council official who's been running Fudge's efforts to raise money for the Ministry just scheduled an appointment to meet with the Governing Goblins. He wants to make sure the proposal covers everything before it's submitted to go before the International Wizards Council." Bill was glowering and as he spoke and added, "We're lucky that Fleur just happened to be the one to take his request to schedule the meeting! She said Planesse had been most insistent to her that news of this meeting not to get out to anyone. What a right mess!"
"Did I just hear you correctly, Weasley?" Moody say, his peg leg stomping upon the stone floor as he came up to them. "Fudge is…a rotting old fool!" Harry had never seen Moody with such a disgusted look on his face (and that was saying a lot).
"I'll say," Bill said, nodding along. "The rest of the day all the Goblins could only be heard speaking in Gobbledegook. Bad sign," Bill said, shaking his head now.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Why?" Bill said. "Because only the smallest handful of Wizards can speak it! It's notoriously impossible to learn without it being taught to you by a Goblin himself. Barty Crouch was the last one I knew who could do it. Dumbledore probably can. Cuthbert Mockridge from the Liaison office is self-taught but I get the feeling he isn't very good and that he merely insults the Goblins more than actually communicating with them. No, when the Goblins start to talk amongst themselves, Harry, it usually means they're talking about something they don't want non-Goblins to know anything about."
Moody grunted disgustedly and said, "Fudge ought to be looking at the war upon his doorstep, not padding his bankroll! He'll be the death of us all..." Moody stomped off, shaking his fist.
Arthur Weasley had numerous copies of reports from his office that had been shunted his way in response to the recent attacks on muggles. There were two more since Monday, each as pointless as the next. Because of his 'expertise' in dealing with Muggles, Mr. Weasley had been asked to help out with the interviewing of neighbouring muggles and the subsequent Obliviating of them. He was looking ragged and worn down from the extra work but said, "Amelia asked me herself to help with this. Molly is all a fret about the overtime I'm working…and well, with Fudge saying the Ministry may only be able to pay so much of it out…I can't say. But really, I can't let Amelia down. The war's only just begun!"
As Harry heard this, he felt the weight of his responsibility weighing down upon him. It wasn't something he was often conscious of and he rarely allowed himself to dwell upon it but he felt it now. None of this would end--pointless torturing of helpless muggles, vengeful murders of those deemed blood-traitors, the fear in the eyes of students, teachers and the members of the Order--it was all fated to go on. Greater and more terrible than ever he was…the memory of Trelawney's prediction made to Harry haunted him now and he just knew he hadn't a chance to end things before they got worse…much worse.
Saturday dawned a bright but crisp and blustery autumn day. It promised to be a fine day for watching quidditch and most especially, Harry thought, if you weren't the one who had to try to fly with the ominous tailwind. The mood about the castle was as cheerful and charged as ever this morning and none were more excited than the Hufflepuffs. The Hufflepuffs were passing around scarves and banners emblazoned with their House colours and crest. Many a Ravenclaw and Gryffindor could be found donning the black and gold to support the team who was opposing Slytherin.
"Who's Smith got for Keeper now?" Zoe asked Ginny.
"Dunno, hope he falls off his broom, though. Look at him," Ginny said, pointing towards the Hufflepuff table where Zacharias Smith was heartily shaking hands with anyone donning their House colors. Harry thought he looked a bit like a politician running for office.
"Here's a blurb about the new Head of Magical Games and Sports," Hermione said, holding up her copy of the Daily Prophet to skim across each page quickly before settling to read one story at a time.
"Anything else new in there?" Harry asked, of course hoping there wasn't.
"Mm, not that I see, yet," Hermione mused. She lowered the paper and looked across the Hall at the ruckus Smith was making. "You know, Harry, I don't think I'll be going to the game today. I've too much more research I want to do on my extra credit assignment. Neville was helping me yesterday afternoon again and perhaps he'll help again today."
"It's such lovely quidditch weather, though!" Harry said in disbelief that she couldn't at least be tempted to spend part of the day outside.
"Yes, well, and you'll be busy scouting out your opposition. No doubt Ron will love to help you at your side. I'll more than enjoy myself in the library," Hermione said with conviction. It was true, Ron had been talking all about the upcoming game and how he and Harry had to watch the other teams to determine their weaknesses.
"Well, what about Lavender and Pavarti?" Harry asked. "I thought they were helping you with this 'extra credit assignment', too."
Hermione looked incredulous. "You think they'd give up a prime opportunity to watch wizards fly around in quidditch tights? Surely you jest."
"They are not tights," Harry said with a growl and a deep frown.
Hermione just raised her eyebrows at him. "Believe what you like." She leaned in closer and whispered, "I think they show off some of your better assets even if they are tights." She pulled back from the open-mouthed Harry and went on as before, saying, "Besides, Lavender and Parvati only like to volunteer to help when you're around. They're convinced we'll forget they're around and start to snog like mad or something if they hang around us enough." She nodded knowingly at Harry's terrified look and said, "Oh yes, they're getting very desperate for gossipy details on you. I swear, I wouldn't even take a glass of water from one of them for fear it'd be laced with Veritaserum."
For all the hype a Hogwarts Quidditch match was, it was certainly disappointing when Slytherin flew out onto the pitch sporting a nameless new Beater. Harry and Ron had arrived early and secured prime seats in the front of one of the boxes.
"Ah, hell, who's that great lug?" Ron asked, disgusted that Slytherin wasn't going to forfeit. He'd been dreaming of a Slytherin forfeit despite the fact that Harry kept trying to tell him he didn't think it was possible at Hogwarts. Harry remembered back in his third year when Malfoy had claimed to have been viscously attacked by Buckbeak, that Slytherin requested that their game with Gryffindor be rescheduled due to their Seeker's injury.
"I'm telling you, Harry," Ron protested. "On the day of the match, if a side can't field a full team, then they forfeit! What do you think almost happened at the end of our first year? They couldn't find a real Seeker in time but Wood knew if he didn't throw someone out there to play, that we'd have had to forfeit!" Ron shook his head. ""Probably would have been better; we got steamrolled."
"Oh," said Harry glumly. Stupid Philosopher's Stone, he thought. How Ron could manage to know so many trivial and varied facts about the game of quidditch was beyond Harry.
"Look at that--he looks a little like Pucey --big, mean and ugly! Maybe they're related?" Ron said pointing at the new Beater who was warming up with Crabbe, belting a Bludger back and forth.
"That sounds like half the players Slytherin ever had, Ron," Harry quipped, taking his Omnioculars and bringing them to his face.
"Oi!" Ron called, nearly knocking Harry over the rail as he lunged over, waving. "Katie!! Over here!" Ron was waving madly trying to get Katie Bell's attention. Harry couldn't see how anyone could miss him.
"Hope you don't mind," Ron said craning his neck to watch the players warming up and to make sure Katie was heading their way. "I told her she could watch with us."
"Hey guys," Katie said, looking much more calm than she had been almost a week ago.
Ron shoved Harry over and made to let Katie stand beside him but Katie said, "It's so windy up here! I'm going to stand between you two so you can block the brunt of it for me." She slipped in front of Harry and settled in between him and Ron.
"How are you doing, Katie?" Harry asked in greeting.
She smiled sheepishly and said, "Fine now. Thanks for putting up with me before… you know…"
"Not a problem," Harry said, waving it away and pulling out a pair of gloves for his hands. "How's Alicia doing? You saw her, right?"
"Oh yes, she's…about as well as me. Oh! Oliver--we couldn't believe it--even he showed up! And Lee, Fred and George…they were great." She shook her head with a small smile. "Who knew the twins could be serious?" Harry nodded knowingly.
"Wow, look at Bulstrode!" Ron said, nudging Katie and pointing to where Millicent was just coming up after executing a perfect Sloth-Grip Roll.
Katie looked for a brief moment and then turned back to Harry. "They all decided--Fred, George, Lee, Alicia and Oliver if he can make it--to come to our game against Ravenclaw. I think Oliver would skip a practice to make it--he can't believe you're now a big sixth year and can properly captain the team. I think we saw him working on a pregame speech at the funeral."
Ron clapped mocking applause as he shouted, "Way to go, Smith! You just pelted your own Keeper with the Quaffle! Did you see that?" he asked, nudging Katie again.
"Our first game," Harry said to Katie. "We'll win for Angelina." Katie smiled up at him and with a sniff, threw an arm around him for a hug. Harry looked over her head to see Ron scowling at them and tried to shrug to his friend. Harry was just about to suggest that Katie tell Ron the plan, too when a chorus of screams rang across the pitch.
~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~
Yeah…I know. What an awful cliffhanger. Well, if you don't like that, then you're going to hate this--There won't be an update next week Monday. With Christmas and all, there is just no way I can get it done. I have like no plans for New Years though as of yet (Lo-oser!) and I should be okay to get back on the schedule the following Monday (Jan 5th). But don't worry, this cliffie isn't really a big one--nothing to fret over…really. I just needed to end it so I could go do my xmas shopping!! No…just kidding….well, not really, it is the truth. Anyway, I'm going to use any spare time this holiday (yeah right) to reorganize the gigantic pile that is my notes for writing this work and make sure I don't miss something I had planned like way back when.
Happy Holidays!!!