The Quetzal's Fire
Harry Potter
I'm trying to start a Harry Potter fanfiction message board. Email me or go to my homepage link and sign up for my totally subjective admittance process. As always: idiots need not apply. Fools, of course, are more than welcome.
A/N: No doubt everyone knows that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince arrives in stores July 16, 2005. Basically, that means my title is fucked (as is the story). Regardless, I hope this'll be an entertaining diversion till we finally get the damn book (or, in my case, the baseball season starts). Without further ado, welcome back to the excitement, intrigue, and romance that is "Harry Potter and the Unforgettable Fire." Enjoy.
Part Five: Need-to-Know
Everyone present at the castle seated themselves at the head table for dinner that night. All but the faculty found it extremely awkward, owing to the fact that the assembled company had all been students at Hogwarts. The Weasley twins in particular found it ironic.
"Never thought I'd be sitting up here," said George, surveying the hall.
"Yeah, not unless Snape put our heads on stakes," cracked Fred.
"I do not believe I would have bothered, given the opportunity," remarked none other than the Potions Master, exhibiting his unnaturally good hearing and cheer while sweeping in in his usual dramatic fashion.
"That would have given me some satisfaction, Severus. I daresay that I would have done it, 'given the opportunity.'" added Professor McGonagall, taking her customary seat to the right of Dumbledore's carven chair.
"Since when was she such a wisecrack?" whispered Ron nervously. In Ron's book, Professor McGonagall making jest was not so much a sign of the approaching apocalypse but a screaming billboard.
"What?" asked Harry, who had been looking at Ginny the whole time. "Oh, yeah, I don't know mate."
Fred and George were spared further grief with the arrival of Professor Dumbledore:
"Everyone is here, I see… wonderful, wonderful. I'd like to say a few words, then we can attend to some business. We will all be living here for some time, though for how long I am not sure. I can't think of any obvious places to move to. Certainly, however, we need the Order working in one secure place in these difficult times." Dumbledore beamed around the table. "I will make a few more remarks after we have eaten. No doubt your travels have left your appetites wanting." At that, a typical Hogwarts dinner spread appeared on the table. Ron, sitting on Harry's right, struck first on the mutton chops, making a semi-orgasmic sound.
"That bad, is it?" asked Harry as he liberated a few potatoes from a bowl.
"Shupt uft," Ron said cheerfully. Harry's compadre had put on yet another couple of inches— at least 6'2" by Harry's reckoning. Harry supposed that something needed to fuel the expansion.
Speaking of expansion… thought Harry, looking at Ginny's midriff. He shook his head. Bad call, mate.
Harry inclined his head towards his plate, feeling himself redden a little. He started shoveling it in.
Ron wasn't the best of dining partners: he never said anything during the trafficking to his mouth. Nor was Mundungus Fletcher; the crook appeared not to spend money or time on such frivolous things as good food. Indeed, little was being said while the Order of the Phoenix was consuming their meals, beyond the (presumably) intellectual conversation the delicately eating Remus Lupin and Abd al Rahman were engaging while Percy Weasley listened attentively from across the table.
"No, no, Abd, I can assure you it's Doyle's Discourse on the Bohemian Warlock Code that first outlines a plurality of the systematic study of corporeal transfiguration. al Andalus didn't contribute anything until 1200, at least. Several fields had already been established," said Lupin, with an air of finality.
"Remus, Remus. Córdoba was the center of that movement and you know it. Bohemia wasn't even an idea until several hundred years later. German principalities were totally subservient to the Holy Roman Empire at that point and actually contributed their finest warlocks to the reconquista to try and get the upper leg on transfiguratory research. God knows why, though… the whole thing was orchestrated by the church. It may be true that some minor were made in the Bohemian system. That's why Bohemian transfiguration is a total misnomer. Wolfstein didn't even get published until 1512, which is a mere twenty years after the last Andalusian libraries were looted. even if there were earlier contributors, the reconquista had been going on for several hundred years! It's a typical Western mentality, that you invented everything of substance…" whatever al Rahman's point was, Harry didn't really care. The greatest discovery in his mind was the one he had just made: barbecue chicken.
Fred and Dung were the last ones still eating. Dumbledore removed their plates with a casual wave of his wand, despite their protests. Eventually he got them to shut up and started his speech.
"Thank you for coming. I did want to move to Hogwarts sooner, but I decided it was strategically wanting to do so so soon after Sirius Black's death." Dumbledore shot Harry an apologetic look and continued. "And, specifics. The move, in particular. I believe that we need not vacate the premises during the students' term, nor do I believe we should use a cover story beyond a minimum level of secrecy. Certainly, an unbelievable excuse is hardly sufficient for Hogwarts' excellent student body."
Snape snorted audibly, his head resting on his palm, but Dumbledore pretended not to notice. Harry glared at his least favorite teacher but was ultimately ignored.
"During the term meetings will be conducted in my suite, of course, and with the usual stipulations. Alastor, I want to remind you in particular that I have full confidence in my protections and insurances, so it will not be necessary for any midnight checkups on such arrangements. Moving on…" Dumbledore glanced at his notes. "Ah, of course… Harry, Ronald, Ginny, I must ask you to leave. Severus, please do start your report. I need to chat with these two." Dumbledore stood up, as did Harry and Ron, albeit far more reluctantly. Harry and Ron scuffed their feet the whole way out of the Hall, with Dumbledore as an escort. Mrs. Weasley could be heard thudding her head on the table for lack of hope. Harry didn't care, though, still resenting being left in the dark. As soon as Dumbledore closed the doors behind them, Harry stared in on him rather loudly.
"Professor, didn't you say that I would be told more? Someone got killed the last time you didn't tell me everything, and it's not fair that you're doing it again—" Ron's eyes widened. He hadn't heard anyone talk to Dumbledore like that, especially a student.
"Harry, this information does not pertain to you," said Dumbledore calmly. "It is information on Voldemort's" —Ron whimpered— "next wave of attacks."
"Why shouldn't it matter to me?" demanded Harry defiantly. He stared Dumbledore straight in the eye. Coming to Hogwarts had made the situation a little more tolerable, but that wasn't to say that Harry's life was any easier. He still had awful dreams every night and his waking hours were filled with terrible mental punctuations regarding his fate from his first birthday on. Certainly predestination was enough of a qualification for relevance.
Dumbledore was the first to look away, but he quickly focused on Harry again.
"Harry, I will not say anything more to you this to my office tomorrow at one thirty. I will see you then, but for the moment, I am missing Professor Snape's report." Dumbledore nodded curtly and returned to the Great Hall, closing the massive doors quietly.
"What's all that about?" Ron asked. Harry still had not told him about the prophecy's full extent.
"Nevermind. I'll tell you sometime," said Harry.
"I think he's pretty angry," Ron observed. His voice was filled with worry.
"Yeah," replied Harry, avoiding Ron's concerned gaze.
Dumbledore's quiet was miles more intimidating than his rage.
