1. Regression
So far, Harry had quite well succeeded in spending the entire time in silence, except when giving short answers to direct questions. Ron and Hermione had both insisted on escorting Harry to the ministry and Mr Weasley had agreed. The four of them had flooed instead of taking the tube and were now walking through one of the corridors towards Fudge's office in slightly dusty robes.
Fudge stepped out of his office at the end of the corridor and theatrically opened his arms to welcome them. A broad smile was plastered on his face. But suddenly a figure stepped forth and between Fudge and them. Percy. His voice was shaking.
"Harry … dad …" he paused and drew breath. His shoulders were hanging and his expression was utterly miserable. "I am sorry," he finally said softly. Harry and Mr Weasley, both walking in front, had stopped thunderstruck. Harry saw that Mr Weasley's face had gone rigid but he felt an unhappy sneer form around his own mouth. He looked at Percy and suddenly hot anger began to boil in him. Percy was responsible. He, like so many others, had believed the stupid tales the ministry kept telling. Even worse, he had been telling these stories. He had acted as though Harry was a liar, Dumbledore a senile fool and Voldemort non-existent. He had preferred to live his peaceful, stupid little life and pretend that nothing was happening. Because of him Sirius had died.
Percy meanwhile had dropped to his knees and now he raised his head and looked straight at Harry's eyes.
"I can't undo what I have done. And I won't ask you to forgive my part of the blame for Sirius Black's death. Because you can't forgive me that, I know. It's to late. It's too late …" his voice trailed off. But then he focused again.
"I have been blind by my own fault. I hope I see now – please! Can both of you give me a second chance? A chance to repair some damage I have done at least?" He looked pleadingly, his eyes flickering from his father to Harry and back.
"I …" Harry thought of Sirius again. But he also thought of the Weasleys. Of Mrs Weasley, of how unhappy she had been because of her row with Percy.
"I forgive you." he heard himself say almost mechanically. He glanced at Mr Weasley's face. It hadn't softened but Mr. Weasley slowly said "So do I." Then he extended an arm and helped Percy to his feet. He turned and then five people resumed their way towards Fudge, whose smile had faded.
"Trust Percy to be pompous on occasions like this," Harry heard Ron whisper to Hermione but he sounded quite awe-struck. Harry hoped that this had been the right thing to do. Percy's assumption had been correct, he wasn't able to forgive anyone for letting Sirius die. On the other hand, Percy did perhaps deserve a second chance. But did Fudge? He glanced up. Fudge's face was sorrowful, reflected the same thing Harry had been thinking. Was he willing to forgive Fudge? Was Fudge in his position allowed failure?
They now stepped into the excessively decorated office, followed by the minister who closed the door behind him. Then he monitored them to the empty chairs and walked slowly to sit down in his own chair behind the big mahogany desk.
Again he raised his hands in a well-studied gesture as if pleading with gods. His face was composed again, diplomatically, almost matter-of-fact. His voice was as smooth as ever.
"Mr Potter, the ministry offers its condolence and deepest regrets for the miserable turnouts of the recent events. Nothing makes us more unhappy than to admit that indeed, we have all been deceived. Nobody here could have foreseen the most tragic …" Here he was interrupted by a deep voice coming from behind them.
"Oh, but you will notice that they could. That some, in fact, have. – I am sorry to interrupt you, Cornelius," Albus Dumbledore politely added from the door which he had opened unnoticed.
They all turned in surprise and Fudge started. His self-confidence vanished visibly. However, he caught himself and obviously decided that attack proved the best defence.
"Dumbledore! You are interrupting a private invitation. With all due respect, I must insist upon your waiting outside." He pointed his finger to the door. Dumbledore smiled politely, nodded and said:
"Of course. As I said, I am sorry to interrupt but unfortunately I have a business of utmost importance to attend to which I would like to get done as quick as possible. Business concerning you, Cornelius." They all, including Fudge, stared, a fact to which Dumbledore seemed oblivious. He continued calmly: "You were just discussing the recent events, I gather. Alas, most unfortunate for the ministry. And most embarrassing, too, according to the Prophet. In fact," he raised his voice slightly, "the Daily Prophet seems to mirror the public opinion when claiming that our dear minister was no longer up to his duty." He sighed sadly.
"I received this vote of no confidence," he held out a parchment, "from the ministry's body today, along with an order of removal of the minister from office." Shocked silence met this announcement. "The body has appointed the vice-chairwoman of the Wizengamot, Amelia Susan Bones as the temporary replacement until new votes will be held in exactly one week." He handed a stock-still no-longer-minister the parchment, turned to the other five people in the room and said, "That accomplished, I was told to escort some people safely home for lunch." His eyes were twinkling merrily now.
With a wave of his hand he walked out of the room. Harry glanced uncertainly back and forth but Fudge seemed to be occupied by the parchment so he stood up and hurried after Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione in his wake. Mr Weasley and Percy followed more slowly. At the elevator Mr Weasley told them that he would now go back to work and the others, including Percy, followed Dumbledore towards the fire crates where they were handled floo powder. Before Harry stepped into the fire and carefully pronounced his destination he saw that Dumbledore whispered something in Percy's ear. Of course, he's the secret keeper, he thought before the world started to spin and he landed in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Shortly afterwards Percy stepped out of the fire and was immediately caught in Mrs Weasley's tight embrace. Both were crying and laughing at the same time. Harry felt himself truly smile for the first time this summer.
o
Later that evening Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat in front of the crackling fire in the library. Ron and Harry were playing Wizard chess, Hermione and Ginny watched them idly. Harry had erected what he thought was a decent defence line and Ron seemed to have a hard time breaking through it while Harry's leftover knight was wreaking havoc amongst his opponent's pawns. When Ron's queen finally managed to get through Harry's defence wall and began what Harry saw now was a perfectly laid out attack, Hermione stifled a wide yawn and stood up, smoothing her skirt.
"Time for me to turn in," she announced. "'Night, boys, Ginny." She leaned down and pecked Ron on the cheek. He turned his head and caught her lips with his for a brief moment, smiling up at her. While she left the room Ron turned back to a petrified Harry. Finally, the pawn Harry had been about to play fell from his numb fingers. The sound of it hitting the chessboard sounded deafening in the silence.
"You … what?" he croaked. "How long?"
Ron eyed him in disbelief. "You didn't know? Hell, it's been weeks. Since the beginning of the holidays in fact. I never knew you didn't know!" he blushed slightly, "I rather thought it was obvious. Shortly after that night at the ministry it just … happened, you know?" Harry began to realise just how much he'd missed by retreating from his environment and into his thoughts. He snapped his still open jaw shut and said: "Well, I'm happy for you. On second thought, I can't say I didn't really expect it, though." He grinned tentatively at Ron who turned scarlet but grinned back lopsidedly.
o
… and reappeared a few days later. What was not mentioned in the newspapers, however, was the fact that those pets were no longer docile when they returned. They would snarl and hiss and spit when approached by their owners, and sometimes slashing at them with sharp claws. They would no longer take dead food but rather hunt on their own. They had turned wild.
