A/N: ^......^ = letter
--------- = memory
CH15: Now and Later
"Happy Halloween, Harry!" Ron yelled, jumping on the end of his best friends bed.
"Ron, you better have a damn good explanation for waking me up," grumbled Harry into his pillow. "Or I'll hex you from here to China."
"Of course I do." There was silence for a moment.
"Well, what is it?"
"Classes start in twenty-five minutes and if you want breakfast .... " But Harry was already halfway to the bathroom, cursing himself.
"Told you I had a good reason," laughed Ron.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Morning, Harry, Ron," greeted Hermione when they finally came down. "What took you so long?"
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the arrival of the post owls.
An unfamiliar gray one dropped a letter on Harry's plate before taking off again.
"Another letter from Sirius, mate?" asked Ron.
Sirius had left for a very secret 'business trip' a week ago and had sent Harry a letter every morning. Most of them contained jokes or riddles or quotes or just random ramblings, but Sirius couldn't get enough of being able to send letters without being in hiding.
"Nope, not his handwriting," Harry replied. He started to rip it open and ....
"Hey, Harry!" Neville called from down the table. "Did you finish the reading for Snape?"
"Yes, but ..... Shit. I forgot my Potions book." He got up from the table. "See you guys in class."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry grabbed his book from the windowsill. He continued to tear open the letter on his way out the door, but then stopped cold.
^Harry,
Happy Aniversary.^
'What?' Harry shook his head and looked over the letter again. The edge was
torn: like it had been pulled out of a book. He flipped it over and scanned the back.
^Some say the world will end it fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice.^
Harry's eyes widened and he scrambled over to his trunk, rumaging around for ......
He pulled out a book entitled 'Great Poets' an flipped to the section on Robert Frost. His breath caught in his throat.
There was a page missing.
'What is going -' Then it clicked. 'That handwriting. It's ...... '
He jumped up and ran out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called, bursting into the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore emerged from between the bookcases. "What's the matter, Harry?"
"We have to go to the Ministry. Now."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andrew Newmon sighed. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
And he could remember clearly the last time he had one of these feelings.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- -------------
October 31, 1981
"Mr. Newmon? An owl just came for you," his assistant anounced.
"Thank you, Jenny." He was hoping for the maps of Bristol he had sent for. They had been getting reports all week of dark activity in the area.
Newmon was part of the Department of Magical Law enforcement: the Strategy Department. Which basically meant that it was his job to try and figure out
You-Know-Who's next move. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world.
He frowned at the letter before him. 'Too small to be my package.' He tore open the letter and read:
^Paris in Flames
Now its time to wrap our fears in the night
Discard this message
Throw this bottle back in the ocean
Rip this page from the history books
Smash all the street signs
Erase all the maps
Forget my name
Forget my face
Because it's going to rain
And it never ends*^
The Dark Mark was drawn proudly below it.
"What the - " This didn't bode well.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- -----------------
And he had been right. Later that night, Godric's Hollow (a small town with
half-wizard/half-miggle population) had been attacked. Luckily, the battle didn't last long: the Death Eaters had all run scared when the Dark Lord had fallen.
But still .... Andrew couldn't shake that feeling.
He glanced around the room at the others attending the Ministry-wide monthly meeting. Nobody else seemed to think something was amiss: they were all listening intently to Fudge as he droned on about .... something. 'I really should be listening to him.'
As he thought this, Albus Dumbledore strode into the room.
"Albus, how can I help you," the Minister asked with a fake smile.
"This actually wasn't my idea, Cornelius," said Dumbldore. "And I have no more of an idea about what is going on then you do." A teenage boy with black hair entered the room. Harry Potter.
"Mr. Potter." The Minister's smile became more forced. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I just need to speak with one of your employees," Harry said.
"You're interrupting our meeting because of that?"
"I assure you - it's incrediably urgent. Five minutes. Please."
"Very well."
"Mr. Newmon?" Harry called out.
"Me?" Andrew asked. Harry headed up to his seat and held out .... a letter. A very familiar looking letter.
"Is this .... ?" Harry nodded slowly.
Andrew's eyes widened as he scanned the parchment. "Where did you get this?"
"It came in the post this morning."
"And you opened it? I thought you, of all people, wouldn't open anything if
you didn't recognize where it came from."
"I know, it was foolish. But I recognize the handwriting now." He pulled out another envelope. "It came on birthday this past summer."
'This is You-Know-Who's handwriting?' Andrew thought wildly. 'The Dark Lord
himself wrote this?'
"We have to start researching this poem. Find out who wrote it - "
Harry cut him off. "Robert Frost. He's a Muggle poet."
"You've read it before?"
"Actually, this page came out of a book my friend Amy gave me this summer."
"What?!? When was the last time you read this book."
"About a week and a half ago in the Hospital Wing. And I'm sure the page was there then."
"Then the question is, how the hell did the Dark Lord manage to get the page to send to you?" He started at the gasps around the room: he hadn't realized that everyone was listening in.
"I'm not sure I want to know."
"What does the letter say?" Fudge demanded. Andrew read it out to the corregation. A few people around the room, Dumbledore included, paled when they realized what was going on, but most just looked confused. "What?"
"Don't you know your history, Minister?" Harry asked. Fudge scowled a bit at the subtle insult.
"Why don't you enlighten us."
"The last time a letter like this was delivered, a town was almost decimated." Fudge sat down hard.
"We need to figure out where they are going to attack - " Andrew began, but
Harry interrupted him again.
"Unfortunately, I know."
"How?"
"It says 'Happy Aniversary', Mr. Newmon," he whispered.
"So?"
"So what happened fourteen years ago today? When you got the first letter?"
"You don't think - "
"Last time, it was with Death Eaters. They 'fired' out spells. And it didn't work. But this time, they'll use ice."
"What do you mean?" someone questioned.
"He's going to attack Godric's Hollow. With an army of Dementors."
=============================================================
* is by Thursday
--------- = memory
CH15: Now and Later
"Happy Halloween, Harry!" Ron yelled, jumping on the end of his best friends bed.
"Ron, you better have a damn good explanation for waking me up," grumbled Harry into his pillow. "Or I'll hex you from here to China."
"Of course I do." There was silence for a moment.
"Well, what is it?"
"Classes start in twenty-five minutes and if you want breakfast .... " But Harry was already halfway to the bathroom, cursing himself.
"Told you I had a good reason," laughed Ron.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Morning, Harry, Ron," greeted Hermione when they finally came down. "What took you so long?"
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the arrival of the post owls.
An unfamiliar gray one dropped a letter on Harry's plate before taking off again.
"Another letter from Sirius, mate?" asked Ron.
Sirius had left for a very secret 'business trip' a week ago and had sent Harry a letter every morning. Most of them contained jokes or riddles or quotes or just random ramblings, but Sirius couldn't get enough of being able to send letters without being in hiding.
"Nope, not his handwriting," Harry replied. He started to rip it open and ....
"Hey, Harry!" Neville called from down the table. "Did you finish the reading for Snape?"
"Yes, but ..... Shit. I forgot my Potions book." He got up from the table. "See you guys in class."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry grabbed his book from the windowsill. He continued to tear open the letter on his way out the door, but then stopped cold.
^Harry,
Happy Aniversary.^
'What?' Harry shook his head and looked over the letter again. The edge was
torn: like it had been pulled out of a book. He flipped it over and scanned the back.
^Some say the world will end it fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice.^
Harry's eyes widened and he scrambled over to his trunk, rumaging around for ......
He pulled out a book entitled 'Great Poets' an flipped to the section on Robert Frost. His breath caught in his throat.
There was a page missing.
'What is going -' Then it clicked. 'That handwriting. It's ...... '
He jumped up and ran out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called, bursting into the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore emerged from between the bookcases. "What's the matter, Harry?"
"We have to go to the Ministry. Now."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andrew Newmon sighed. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
And he could remember clearly the last time he had one of these feelings.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- -------------
October 31, 1981
"Mr. Newmon? An owl just came for you," his assistant anounced.
"Thank you, Jenny." He was hoping for the maps of Bristol he had sent for. They had been getting reports all week of dark activity in the area.
Newmon was part of the Department of Magical Law enforcement: the Strategy Department. Which basically meant that it was his job to try and figure out
You-Know-Who's next move. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world.
He frowned at the letter before him. 'Too small to be my package.' He tore open the letter and read:
^Paris in Flames
Now its time to wrap our fears in the night
Discard this message
Throw this bottle back in the ocean
Rip this page from the history books
Smash all the street signs
Erase all the maps
Forget my name
Forget my face
Because it's going to rain
And it never ends*^
The Dark Mark was drawn proudly below it.
"What the - " This didn't bode well.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- -----------------
And he had been right. Later that night, Godric's Hollow (a small town with
half-wizard/half-miggle population) had been attacked. Luckily, the battle didn't last long: the Death Eaters had all run scared when the Dark Lord had fallen.
But still .... Andrew couldn't shake that feeling.
He glanced around the room at the others attending the Ministry-wide monthly meeting. Nobody else seemed to think something was amiss: they were all listening intently to Fudge as he droned on about .... something. 'I really should be listening to him.'
As he thought this, Albus Dumbledore strode into the room.
"Albus, how can I help you," the Minister asked with a fake smile.
"This actually wasn't my idea, Cornelius," said Dumbldore. "And I have no more of an idea about what is going on then you do." A teenage boy with black hair entered the room. Harry Potter.
"Mr. Potter." The Minister's smile became more forced. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I just need to speak with one of your employees," Harry said.
"You're interrupting our meeting because of that?"
"I assure you - it's incrediably urgent. Five minutes. Please."
"Very well."
"Mr. Newmon?" Harry called out.
"Me?" Andrew asked. Harry headed up to his seat and held out .... a letter. A very familiar looking letter.
"Is this .... ?" Harry nodded slowly.
Andrew's eyes widened as he scanned the parchment. "Where did you get this?"
"It came in the post this morning."
"And you opened it? I thought you, of all people, wouldn't open anything if
you didn't recognize where it came from."
"I know, it was foolish. But I recognize the handwriting now." He pulled out another envelope. "It came on birthday this past summer."
'This is You-Know-Who's handwriting?' Andrew thought wildly. 'The Dark Lord
himself wrote this?'
"We have to start researching this poem. Find out who wrote it - "
Harry cut him off. "Robert Frost. He's a Muggle poet."
"You've read it before?"
"Actually, this page came out of a book my friend Amy gave me this summer."
"What?!? When was the last time you read this book."
"About a week and a half ago in the Hospital Wing. And I'm sure the page was there then."
"Then the question is, how the hell did the Dark Lord manage to get the page to send to you?" He started at the gasps around the room: he hadn't realized that everyone was listening in.
"I'm not sure I want to know."
"What does the letter say?" Fudge demanded. Andrew read it out to the corregation. A few people around the room, Dumbledore included, paled when they realized what was going on, but most just looked confused. "What?"
"Don't you know your history, Minister?" Harry asked. Fudge scowled a bit at the subtle insult.
"Why don't you enlighten us."
"The last time a letter like this was delivered, a town was almost decimated." Fudge sat down hard.
"We need to figure out where they are going to attack - " Andrew began, but
Harry interrupted him again.
"Unfortunately, I know."
"How?"
"It says 'Happy Aniversary', Mr. Newmon," he whispered.
"So?"
"So what happened fourteen years ago today? When you got the first letter?"
"You don't think - "
"Last time, it was with Death Eaters. They 'fired' out spells. And it didn't work. But this time, they'll use ice."
"What do you mean?" someone questioned.
"He's going to attack Godric's Hollow. With an army of Dementors."
=============================================================
* is by Thursday
