Chapter Twelve – The Daily Prophet
"Ronald Weasley, where are we going?" Hermione asked as Ron was tugging her hand, pulling her up the stair case.
Dinner had ended but the party was still going on, celebrating Remus Lupin's appointment as Deputy Minister. Ron had discretely pushed Hermione out of the kitchen and started directing her up the stairs.
"Let's go up to the library," Ron said. "I want to get away from the noise."
Hermione looked suspiciously at him, but seeing nothing that she could object about, she mentally shrugged and followed him up the stairs. As they climbed the stairs, Hermione flinched at the sound of a small explosion coming from the kitchen.
"Must be the twins," Ron laughed. "Merlin only knows what they've concocted for their indoor fireworks."
Giving a nervous laugh, Hermione kept climbing up the stairs. Finding herself disconcertingly out of breath, she walked into Sirius' library. Her library, she reminded herself mentally, awed again at the generosity that Sirius had demonstrated to her in his will.
"Okay Ron, now what's going on," she demanded. "You can't honestly believe that I'd fall for your story that you wanted to go to the library."
Ron gave her one of his trademark innocent expressions, which only confirmed to Hermione that Ron was up to something. She knew him entirely too well and had long since learned to fight of the feelings that surged in her heart when he gave her that adorable expression.
Now that things were finally in the open, their fights had a difference to them. Hermione knew that neither of them was entirely comfortable with expressing their deeper emotions, so they covered their feelings with banter and playful jousting. Every once in a while the newness of the ability to express these feelings surged up and one or the other would inadvertently say something too serious. Just as quickly they would both back away from those words.
It scared her, just a little, about how strongly she felt for this red haired wizard. Although she had known that she felt more than friendship since sometime in their second year, it wasn't until their fourth year that she finally realized that he returned those feelings. Watching him struggle on the night of the Yule Ball still made her warm inside. Although she still felt remorse for the way Viktor had misinterpreted their relationship, Ron's jealousy was cemented in her brain.
The past year was incredibly difficult. She had been so worried about Harry, worried about upsetting him, or distracting him. She repeatedly forced herself to avoid the feelings that she had for Ron, and realized that Ron too was trying to protect Harry. They never talked about it, they never had to, but she and Ron closed ranks around Harry to protect him as best they could.
But that awful night at the Ministry changed everything. She was so scared that something bad would happen. When they got separated, she didn't know what to do. Despite her intellect and ability to think under pressure, part of her mind raced at the possibilities of being defeated by those horrible Deatheaters. Despite her efforts, despite the quick thinking, she had been knocked unconscious and wounded terribly. A month later, after dozens of potions, her body still ached at the memory of the pain.
Maybe this is what it is like for Harry, she thought. At least a little. Suddenly, out of no where, a stab of pain threatens to make you feel like you are about to collapse. And the memories come rushing back.
Fortunately she had only felt the twinges of pain in the morning or late at night, while she was in her bedroom. Of course Ginny knew what was happening, but Ginny had her own secrets, her own pain to live with. They had an unspoken agreement to keep this to themselves. So no one else knew what Hermione was going through, and no one would.
If it got out, well, Ron would try to protect her, in his obnoxiously adorable ham-handed way. Harry would try to help, but then get overwhelmed with his sense of misplaced guilt, and privately sulk and withdraw further. The adults would try to coddle her or force her to take more foul potions, ignoring her protests that all she needed was time to heal, to work through the pain.
Sighing, she shook her head and turned her attention back to Ron who was waving his hand in front of her face.
"Hello? Herms, anyone in there?" he asked.
"Sorry, just thinking. Anyway, now what was it that made you voluntarily enter a room full of books?"
"Erm, well, I just wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit," he said nervously. "You know how noisy it gets with everyone, and they're all so excited about Dad and Remus that I imagine it will be noisy for a while."
Hermione sensed immediately that there was something amiss. Ron's excuse seemed incredibly thin, and he was entirely out of sorts. His body shifted uncomfortably under Hermione's gaze.
"Something is bothering you, Ron. What is it?"
Ron stared in consternation at the remarkable witch in front of him. She truly did know him like one of her books. He couldn't hide much of anything from her, not that he really wanted to, at least not too often. But this was different. He really just wanted to get out of the kitchen before he said something that would offend his best friend and his family.
Ron didn't know where the thought came from, but he was not pleased with Harry's theatrical moves at the Ministry. It was all well and good that Fudge was removed, but Ron wasn't entirely sure that it was a good idea to put his father in that position. The guilt that surged up at that thought hit Ron like a physical blow, but he didn't really understand why Harry picked his Dad to be the Minister.
He accepted Harry's reasoning at face value, and agreed that if Fudge could be Minister anyone could. But something nagged at Ron's brain about the whole event. Maybe it was the overbearing drama of it all. Especially Dumbledore's statement. He could understand people that didn't know Harry calling him the Boy Who Lived, but it was unbearable to hear it coming from Dumbledore's mouth.
It offended Ron for some reason. And because he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for that feeling, Ron also felt incredibly guilty. He felt guilty for questioning his father's qualifications to be Minister. He felt guilty for being angry at Dumbledore. And he felt guilty for being upset with Harry.
"I, erm, I don't know Herms, I just feel, I don't know. I just feel uneasy about all of this, I guess."
Sighing heavily, Ron collapsed into a nearby couch. Hermione stared thoughtfully at him for a few moments before sitting down next to him. Grabbing hold of his hand and gently rubbing his fingers she looked deep into his eyes.
"I know Ron, I know it's hard. But you have to understand that Harry didn't ask for this, for any of it. He's just trying to do what he can to survive. It's hard, I know, being friends with someone everyone else thinks of as a hero, when to us he's just a friend. But I know you remember everything that happened during the Triwizard Championship. You know Harry doesn't seek the attention, it just follows him."
"It's not that-"Ron sputtered before Hermione interrupted him.
"Wait. Just wait. I know you were upset by today's events, but did Harry really have any choice? He had to remove Fudge, or else we'd lose. And who else would he pick besides your Dad? It's a great choice, and you know it. So what's wrong? Are you jealous again? I know it is hard to be in his shadow, but he needs us to support him, he needs our friendship, now more than ever."
"I know," Ron said impatiently. "But, it's just so dramatic. I mean, Dumbledore calling him by that stupid title, like Harry's some epic hero. The Boy Who Lived, Merlin. It's disconcerting."
"Oh Ron," Hermione said softly, disappointment creeping into her voice. "I don't mean to sound obnoxious, but I don't think you understood what Dumbledore was doing with that little speech. By calling Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' it elevated the moment, it added weight to Harry's speech, and it prevented anyone from objecting. By calling on the hero, not Harry, but 'The Boy Who Lived' Dumbledore was telling the world that the hero of the last war against Voldemort was part of this decision. With Dumbledore calling Harry that, it added Dumbledore's prestige to the decision. It was a silly little statement that had tremendous impact on any wavering head of Department."
A dawning look of comprehension inched its way across Ron's face. He started to look at the days events in a different light, and with Hermione's explanation, things started to make more sense.
"But how did Harry know how to set all this up? When did he figure it out?"
"I don't know," Hermione said chuckling. "Maybe we should ask him. But do you see that he wasn't doing it because he wanted to, but because he had to?"
"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard though, being in his shadow all the time. The Best Mate of the Boy Who Lived. Bloody awkward title. And I'm in your shadow too, you know. The Most Brilliant Witch's Boyfriend. When do I get my own epic name?"
Ron's voice trailed off as he looked into Hermione's face. She had gasped for breath and gone pale. Worried he looked frantically around the library, grabbing for his wand.
"What is it? Herms? You okay? What's wrong?" he demanded anxiously.
"What did you call yourself?" she asked in a whisper.
"Huh? Oh, Harry's best mate."
"The other thing," she said with an anxious tone.
"Oh, erm," he stuttered, blushing. "Erm, I guess I said I was your boyfriend. But, erm, well..."
Before he could finish his sentence he found himself wrapped up in Hermione's arms as she was kissing him fiercely. As her manic kisses slowly subsided into a more interesting technique, Ron found himself struggling for air.
"Bloody hell, what was that for?" he gasped with a grin.
"Well, we never really talked about it, so it surprised me a little when you called yourself my boyfriend. You don't want to take that back, do you?"
"Sweet Merlin, no way. Unless you want me to?" he asked, anxiety filling his voice.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed quickly. "Not at all, it's just, well, we've not discussed it and I wasn't sure what you were thinking."
"You're my everything, Herms. I don't want to be apart from you at all. I mean, well, sometimes you know when I have, erm, things to do, you know what I mean. But other than that, well, yeah, I guess, I mean, well what I'm trying to say is Hermione Granger, will you be my girlfriend?"
Ron's feelings for Hermione finally overwhelmed his nerves as he struggled over his words. He was stuttering madly, blushing furiously, and his eyes danced nervously from Hermione's face to the floor between them.
Hermione sprouted a triumphant grin and gently reached out for Ron's hand. Taking his hand in hers, she leaned in closely and whispered into his ear.
"Yes, Ron, I will be your girlfriend."
Gently kissing his ear as she finished, she slowly worked her mouth down to his mouth and drew him in to a deep, passionate kiss that lasted for an incredibly long time.
***
It was very early in the morning, the sun was threatening to rise above the horizon at any moment, and Ron and Hermione had finally untangled themselves from each others arms. As they snuck back down to their separate rooms, whispering a silent good night to each other they quietly shut their doors.
As Ron tried to quietly sneak across the room to his bed, he didn't notice that Harry was sitting up, watching his progress. Ron had just about gotten into his bed when Harry picked up a shoe and threw it at Ron's back.
"What the heck," Ron spluttered. "Harry," he said whispering, "what are you doing? You'll wake everyone up?"
Grinning at his friend, Harry let out a small chuckle. "I'm not making any noise over here you prat. What are you doing sneaking in so late?"
"Oh, erm, I um, I had to go use the toilet. Yeah, I had to do that."
"Ron, I've been up for an hour. You couldn't have been gone that long. Now, try honesty. Where were you?" Harry grinned. "Or perhaps I should wait until tomorrow and ask Hermione at breakfast?"
"NO!" Ron whispered hoarsely. "No, you can't! Alright you bloody twit, we were up in the library."
"Please, please, no details," Harry protested. "I just wanted to tease you a little. So, did you have fun?"
Yeah," said Ron, determined to get his friend back. "She does this interesting little thing with her mouth that makes my knees go weak..."
"Stop! Mercy!" cried Harry. "I give up! Please, don't talk about it any more!"
Both boys dissolved into laughter, and Ron felt the tension he had been feeling around Harry finally float away. It was stupid, he knew, to still be jealous of Harry at times, but Ron felt certain that he'd always have a sense of jealousy when it came to Harry.
Not that he'd want to trade lives for a minute. The pain and tragedy, the loneliness, all these things made Ron realize how lucky he was in his own life. His parents, brothers, sister, now Hermione, all these people made Ron very lucky indeed.
Looking over at Harry, Ron realized that Harry had been up for a while and tremendous bags were hanging under his eyes. It didn't really surprise him since he had seen Harry like this too many times, but it concerned him like new every time he saw it. Harry realized that Ron was staring at his eyes and he quickly turned away from Ron.
"Want to talk about it?" Ron asked quietly as he changed for bed.
"No," sighed Harry. "It's just hard to sleep here. Not that anywhere else is any better, but it's particularly hard here. Anyway I have to start getting ready for my stupid shareholders meeting. The bloody Boy Who Lived has to make another appearance." He sighed.
"Well, maybe you can go back to just being Harry once we get back to Hogwarts," suggested Ron. "Unless, of course, you've gotten used to all the attention and decide to stick with this hero business a little longer."
Harry glared at Ron and realized that he was mostly joking. Shaking his head, he got out of his bed and started to change.
"Not bloody likely. But I'm going to go downstairs so you can sleep. I'll try not to tell your mum what time you came in here."
Grinning at the panicked look on Ron's face, Harry quietly shut the door and slowly crept down the hallway. As he passed the girls' room, he heard Hermione whispering goodnight to Ginny. Somewhat disappointed that he had missed their conversation, he silently walked down to the main floor and went into the kitchen for some milk.
***
"What are you doing?" Ginny whispered to Hermione as the older girl tried to sneak into their shared bedroom.
Hermione gasped, startled and shocked that Ginny was awake.
"Sorry," Hermione whispered back. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Hermione instantly regretted that statement when she saw a painful look cross the little redheaded witch's face. Apparently Ginny had another nightmare. They were not frequent, but often enough that Hermione knew enough about them.
"New or old?" she asked, calmly.
"Old," sighed Ginny. "I was able to stop it and wake up on my own, which is progress I guess. I don't know how Harry lives with it, I know his are worse than mine."
Hermione nodded and climbed into bed. "I don't know how he handles much of what he faces," she agreed. "But the nightmares are the worst, for both of you. Especially with you waking up in the middle of the night and not able to get back to sleep, it's not fair."
Flashing an impish grin at Hermione, Ginny looked at her speculatively. She was determined to change the subject and try to get back to sleep. "Hermione, dear, it's not the middle of the night, it's almost dawn. Now let's stop talking about dreary old dreams and why don't you tell me what's responsible for that broad grin plastering your face?"
Despite the dim light Ginny saw that Hermione's face turned crimson as a delighted smile made her light up. Ginny giggled with delight that she had succeeded in embarrassing her friend. As Hermione plopped down in her bed and started explaining what had caused her to get in so late, Ginny let out a little squeal of delight.
"So the stupid git finally got up the nerve, did he?"
"Hey, that's my boyfriend you are talking about! But yes, he did."
"Well, good. I suppose it's too much to hope that this will cut down on the bickering between the two of you? Now that you'll have other ways to show how you feel?"
"Oh I don't know," replied Hermione mysteriously. "You never know what will happen. We all choose to show our affection in different ways, don't we?"
The knowing look Hermione gave Ginny made her distinctly uncomfortable. Hermione was never very subtle, but they had agreed to drop this line of discussion, hadn't they? Sighing at the futility of it all, she gave Hermione a lopsided grin.
"Enough, Hermione. It's late, and we need some sleep. Goodnight."
"Fine, enough for now," Hermione sighed, not quite keeping the grin off her face. "Goodnight."
As Ginny reached up to turn off the light by her bed, she could have sworn she heard the sound of feet shuffling at the door.
***
"Witches and Wizards, I thank you for this opportunity to address our dear and wonderful shareholders."
Walter Scrivener, Wizard in Chief of the Daily Prophet, was having the time of his life. It was his first shareholder meeting since he had taken over the paper and he was going to introduce the three most important wizards in Britain. The Board of Directors was sure to be impressed at the events of this meeting, and the shareholders would be pleased to see the paper moving in a vastly different direction.
"This has been an eventful year for the Daily Prophet and I mean to improve our product and the value of your shares in this company. For centuries this paper has stood for journalistic integrity and for upholding the magical way of life. For the past few years, due to unfortunate circumstances, we have lost our way. No longer. I pledge to you here and now that the Daily Prophet will once again be an honest paper, free from outside influence. To address this, I give you the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley."
Mr. Weasley was genuinely shocked by the load cheer that greeted his introduction. He found it hard to believe that he would truly be accepted as a legitimate Minister. But he had received hundreds, perhaps thousands, of letters by owl congratulating him, and as he had entered the vast hall this morning he had been mobbed by well wishers. Only the quick thinking of the Auror bodyguards had saved him when they promptly escorted him to a private room to wait for the meeting to start.
***
It was fortuitous that they had done so, because he found himself face to face with Walter Scrivener. Arthur had certainly heard of this man before, every well-read wizard had, but never had they been in the same room together. For a brief moment Arthur wished they weren't in the same room now. Walter Scrivener, Wizard in Chief of the Daily Prophet, was fuming, and screaming at one of his staff.
"How is it that no one ever told me of this? How am I supposed to run the paper if I can't even print the news? Whose idea was this in the first place?"
"I'm sorry sir," stammered a young wizard who was cowering in fear. "The Minister ordered it, and threatened to shut down the paper if we didn't agree. Now we have to ratify the agreement with the new Minister or the paper is automatically shut down."
"WHAT?!?" exclaimed Mr. Weasley and Scrivener at the same time. At the sound of Mr. Weasley's voice, Scrivener finally realized that someone had entered the room. Looking wildly at the Minister of Magic and his imposing bodyguards, his fury only increased.
"And I suppose you are here to make me sign this cursed document? Well, I refuse! Shut down the paper, confiscate everything! I'll start my own paper and expose all of this! This is outrageous!"
Mr. Weasley was confused at Walter Scrivener's rage. He wasn't sure what the cause was, but realized it had to do with some agreement that Scrivener obviously thought he was there to enforce. Realizing that there was no way to calm the man down while trying to figure out what was going on, he calmly pulled out his wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he said, causing the editor to collapse to the ground.
"Now," Mr. Weasley continued calmly, but wit ha nervous edge to his voice. "Let's see what we have going on. Young man, if you would, please explain to me what has the inestimable Mr. Scrivener is so upset about, I'm sure we can resolve this without too much shouting."
The young wizard stared at the Minister of Magic, incapable of speech. Sighing, Mr. Weasley picked up the document that Scrivener had been waving in his tirade.
Informational Decree #3 – TOP SECRET
The Minister of Magic shall have complete and final control over the
content of every edition, printing, copy, and/or production of the
Daily Prophet.
Failure on the part of the Daily Prophet Board of Directors, Wizard in
Chief, or any of its staff, shall result in the forfeiture of the
assets and material possessions of the Daily Prophet, L.L.C.
"Oh dear," fretted Mr. Weasley to himself. "Oh dear, oh dear. This is just awful, terrible. No wonder the Prophet was so horrible last year, and so cruel to Harry. Well, this just won't do. Not at all. Let's see, erm, Jones is it?"
"Yes sir," said on of the bulky Aurors stationed at the door.
"Yes, excellent. I don't suppose you have any idea how to revoke a decree? What the process is?"
"Actually, I do, sir. All copies of Ministerial decrees are magically linked to each other. All you have to do is write 'revoked' across it and then tear it in two. All copies will immediately be destroyed and a record of its revocation kept at your office."
"Excellent!" cried Mr. Weasley. "Young man, a quill. Hop to it, no time to delay. This terrible thing must be destroyed immediately!"
The young wizard was still shocked but quickly scrambled about trying to find a quill. Coming up empty he looked desperately at the Minister of Magic.
Arthur sighed and looked about. Seeing a feather sticking out of Mr. Scrivener's pocket, he bent down and plucked the quill out of his pocket. "Sorry for the indignity, we'll get you set back right away."
The Minister of Magic laid the decree out across the table and hastily scratched on its surface. 'Revoked by order of the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley' and tore the paper in two. A shimmer of light shot out from the destroyed document and shot up through the ceiling.
"I presume that should suffice. Now," he said while removing the spell from Mr. Scrivener, "perhaps we can have a civil conversation?"
"What are you playing at Minister?" Mr. Scrivener asked suspiciously. "You barge in here, petrify me, and then tear up that decree. What do you want in exchange?"
"I'm sorry about intruding, sir." Mr. Weasley desperately hoped to calm this man down. It would be a difficult time if he had him as an enemy. "The crowd was mobbing me and my guards here wanted to give me some space. I'm not accustomed to the celebrity, or the guards, to be honest. As for casting a spell on you, I apologize, but you were a trifle angry, it seemed the best way to calm the situation down.
"As for the decree, well, it deserved to be destroyed. It should never have been written in the first place. I am sure it was solely Fudge's decision, but I will ensure that no one at the Ministry will try to do anything like that again so long as I am Minister. You must be free to write the truth. So long as it is the truth." Mr. Weasley's voice grew very stern. "I am not pleased with the tone of the articles over the last year, but I suspect that a wizard of your reputation will impose a higher standard. I know that you will keep the Ministry on its toes, make sure the Ministry does not get arrogant with power, which is good and just. I only ask that you not reveal dangerous or classified information that will help us defeat Voldemort. I trust you will use your better judgment, but do not hesitate to ask my opinion. I will never ask you to withhold information unless there is a solid reason, such as a life at stake."
"Minister," Mr. Scrivener replied with absolute sincerity in his voice. "I do not believe anyone truly knows how fortunate we are to have you in office. I appreciate your honesty and I guarantee you that the Prophet will not knowingly endanger the lives of our readers or Ministry officials. We are all together in trying to defeat this evil. I thank you for removing that decree, I hope we can have a mutually beneficial relationship."
***
As the crowd's cheer died down, the Minister of Magic gazed out across the room. Waiting for the room to be silent, he quietly muttered 'sonorous' and pointed his wand at his throat.
"Thank you Mr. Scrivener. Before I begin I must say that I am a huge fan of yours. My wife and I have read all of your tomes and we were thrilled when you accepted this position. Now, as Minister, I am even more pleased that you are here. We face dark and dangerous times and only the truth will help us survive. In recent years the Daily Prophet has not been a truthful paper, but I am pleased to see that the shareholders have replaced the Board of Directors and the Wizard in Chief. Now, I can certainly appreciate the need to change leadership," his speech was interrupted by appreciative laughter from the audience. Mr. Weasley smiled and continued.
"But there is a matter that in unresolved, which calls us here today. My successor objected to the final seat on the Board of Directors going to its rightful owner. By merit of his financial holding in the company, Harry Potter is due a seat on the board. The former Minister challenged that due to Harry being underage, amongst other reasons, I am sure."
Again Arthur's speech was interrupted by knowing chuckles.
"But I stand here as the newly appointed Minister of Magic to inform the shareholders that the Ministry has no objection to Harry serving on the Board of Directors. Indeed, I urge you to ratify that decision with as much haste as possible."
Walter Scrivener jumped up and motioned to the back of the room.
"Please bring in the candidate, Harry James Potter."
Harry was truly getting sick of the pomposity of these situations. At least today he wasn't being called 'The Boy Who Lived' but witches and wizards that were decades older than him were looking at him with something close to awe. Grumbling to himself Harry marched through the crowd and made his way to the podium in front.
"Are there any objections to granting Harry Potter his seat on the Board of Directors as warranted by his financial holding with our company?" Mr. Scrivener asked. "His term will be for three years, unless a shareholder vote asks him to leave earlier. At the end of three years, he can seek reappointment to the Board. Again, are there any objections?"
The silence in the room was deafening. Every shareholder felt that Harry had earned the right, not just through his inheritance, but because of everything else he had been through. Seeing that there would be no objection with Fudge gone, Scrivener nodded his head.
"Then it is unanimous. Harry James Potter, welcome to the Board of Directors. Would you like to address the shareholders?"
It was a routine question, and the answer was just as routine. In fact, Walter Scrivener never even anticipated that there would be a different answer than usual, so he was shocked when Harry stepped up to the podium and asked the Minister of Magic to cast a spell on him. Once his voice would carry, Harry started speaking.
The audience was stunned. First they were horrified, then they were terrified. But as Harry continued speaking it was as if each person there felt their courage grow. Recognizing that Harry was including them in something larger than themselves, the audience listened intently to Harry's words. When he was finished speaking, the shocked silence informed Harry that he had accomplished what he had set out to do that day. Looking up at the Minister of Magic, his friend and father-figure, he smiled.
"Now it's your turn. Remus and I have to go take a day off from all this."
***
As Harry met Remus at the entrance of the building, his favorite former teacher looked a little shocked at what Harry had done.
"Don't you think that was dangerous? You know the reaction that is likely to bring about, don't you?"
Sighing Harry nodded. He had a haunted look and Remus immediately regretted saying anything.
"Yes," Harry said. "It will likely provoke another attack, but maybe it will not be planned as well because of the rage. Maybe it will fail this time. But I don't see how it is any less helpful to keep that information to ourselves. The more people know what they are facing, the more likely they are to choosing the right side. And if I helped reduce the fear, the panic, at the mere mention of Voldemort's name, well, maybe it's a step in the right direction.
"But enough, this is supposed to be our day of fun. Where are we headed?"
"It's a secret, but luckily enough I was able to borrow a car from Fred and George so we don't have to worry about taking too long to get there."
"Ugh, couldn't we just walk?" Harry asked plaintively. "That car is a terror."
"Nonsense," replied Remus. "It just needed a few modifications to the spells. It will be a much more sensible drive, I promise. Now get in, we have a lot to do and not much time!"
As they drove through the countryside, Harry saw that Remus had indeed improved upon the twins' car. The colors no longer shifted hues quite so erratically and the speed was much more sensible, if faster than most muggle cars drove. All in all it was actually a pleasant drive.
Harry passed the time by asking Remus a variety of questions about his parents. He was desperate for a sense of understanding about the people responsible for his existence. Harry learned that his father was incredibly intelligent, but never let anyone know that he actually studied. He preferred people to think he was a natural genius. Lily was the studious type, she probably would have made Hermione seem almost scandalously lazy. Remus talked about how they had been forced, time and time again, to work on projects together by various professors, and each time they almost came to blows. Only James' chivalry prevented him from ever carrying through on any of his threats against Lily, and only Lily's devotion to the rules prevented her from doing so as well.
"So, if they hated each other so much, how'd they ever get married?" Remus could hear the despondency in Harry's voice, so he pulled off the road and the two of them got out so they could take a short walk in a field full of daisies.
"Harry, love comes about in a variety of ways. Look at Ron and Hermione. They fight and bicker all the time. But you never questioned the way they feel towards each other, right? And Molly and Arthur, they certainly aren't the flowers and candies type every day?
"I can't honestly say that I know what day they turned from hating each other to being absolutely devoted to each other. But it was just that quick. One day Sirius pulled a horrific prank, oh it was awful, but hysterical. Lily walked in and was about to take away hundreds of points. She was absolutely furious!
"But then your father walked in, surveyed the scene, and walked over to your mum. He whispered something in her ear and she blushed. It was a beautiful color, and so out of place on her cheeks.
"She turned back to Sirius and spoke with an authority only Dumbledore or McGonnagal could have matched. 'James tells me you will have this cleaned before supper. Don't let him down.'
"Then she took your dad's hand in hers and they walked out of the Great Hall together, as if they had been doing that for years. From that point on they were a couple, and you would have sworn they had been together forever. It was amazing how much they both changed. She relaxed a lot, even joined us in a few of our pranks, though she never let us prank Severus again. And your Dad got more serious, he really focused on his studies. He wanted to be Minister, he said. But they were deeply in love. After school ended they didn't spend much time apart, and were engaged right away. They moved in together and were happy, very happy. Until, well, they were happy."
Harry wiped a few tears away from his eyes and looked out across the field. It helped, a little. It helped to know that they did love each other, that Snape's Pensieve only reflected a point in time, a time before his dad had changed. It made Harry wish for a different past, one where his parents hadn't been killed, but it helped him put his own past into a better perspective.
He turned back to his friend and mentor, Harry was about to challenge him to a race back to the car when he saw a look of panic on Remus' face.
"Harry get down! now!" Remus barked while he reached in his robes for his wand.
Harry dove to the ground, reaching in his robes for his wand, when he felt the brush of a feather narrowly miss his head. Rolling on the ground ducking behind a boulder that Remus had just transfigured from a pebble, he gasped at the sight of a dozen Deatheaters marching on their position. They had an array of muggle projectile weapons aimed at the two of them, and were determinedly closing the distance between them.
"They've figured out spells don't work on you, for now, so they've resorted to other means," Remus said grimly.
"Will that work? What about the protection spell?" Harry asked.
"I have no idea, but it's not a good idea to try and find out, so keep your head down. I've contacted Dumbledore and let him know we're under attack, he should be here with some Aurors soon. But we have to figure how to delay them for a few minutes."
"I've got a few ideas," said Harry as a bullet from the gun one of the Deatheaters was carrying ricocheted off the boulder. "How good are you at transfiguration?"
"The best," Remus replied modestly. "Seeing as how I turn into the wolf once a month, I've learned a thing or two over the years."
"Excellent. Can you turn these pebbles into really sharp metal blades?"
"I think so. But I don't see how that's going to help."
"What if you put in a time delay? A few seconds or so ought to do it."
"Umm, sure. But I still don't understand what you are thinking."
"Trust me," Harry replied with a nasty grin. "Just put a few second delay on the transfiguration while I distract them."
Grabbing a handful of pebbles, Harry stood up and started throwing them at the oncoming Deatheaters. His aim was excellent; practice on the Quidditch pitch gave him terrific knowledge of velocity and angles. The pebbles started pelting his enemies on the head. At first the Deatheaters ducked and dodged from the pebbles, worried that there was more to his attack. After a few hit with no apparent damage, they became emboldened.
"Aww, does ickle wittle Potty think that wittle wocks is going to hurt us?" Harry felt his bones go cold with hate. It was his godfather's murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was leading this little hit squad against Harry and Remus, and that alone told him how much pain his speech at the Daily Prophet meeting had caused Voldemort.
As his anger and pain flared anew in his heart, Harry continued the barrage, perfectly hitting each Deatheater in the head or shoulder. As he had hoped, after several hits, they started ignoring the pebbles while they continued closing in on his position. Soon they were no more than ten feet away, a short distance. They stopped their march and aimed their various weapons at him, crouching down as a volley of fire same at him, he hurriedly grabbed the transfigured pebbles that Remus had been working on.
When the fusillade had died down, Harry cautiously peered over the boulder. The fools didn't really understand how the muggle devices they were using worked, so most of the weapons had jammed or run out of ammunition. As they fumbled with the strange devices, Harry quickly threw his last normal pebbles at them. He was thrilled when they ignored his barrage.
"Quick," he whispered, motioning to Remus. "Cast a strengthening charm on me, so I'm ten times stronger than normal." Remus quickly complied, comprehension dawning on his face. Harry shifted his stance and threw the transfigured pebbles at them.
His aim was good and his charmed strength made the pebbles fly through the air. The pebbles soared precisely where he had aimed and they hurtled inexorably towards the foolish Deatheaters. Just as they arced down towards their impending targets, each of the pebbles flashed a brilliant shade of blue and were quickly transfigured into metal blades that were amazingly sharp.
Harry ducked down amidst the cries of agony as the metal shards dug into flesh and bone. Remus had done well. The blades were infinitely sharper than usual bits of metal, and the force that Harry threw them with caused them to dig deep into the Deatheaters. Risking a quick glance, Harry and Remus peered over the boulder.
Most had been hit directly, in their arms, chests, or head. A few were on the ground, unconscious or dead, Harry didn't care which, so long as they were out of the action. Most were screaming in agony or fury, and quickly discarded their muggle devices for more familiar wands.
But worst of all was Bellatrix. A shard had hit her in her right eye, shattering the orb. Blood spurted out of her eye socket and her hands were clamped over her face, trying to keep the blood from flowing. It was futile. Blood poured out of her head and was moaning with inhuman agony.
Harry stared dispassionately at what he saw, and felt odd that he had no emotion at this turn of events. He was not pleased, remorseful, or guilty. He just watched as the wretched woman writhed with pain. Several Deatheaters tried to help her, but she pushed them away. Most were stunned, incapable of mounting an attack, until Lestrange straightened with fury etched on her face. One hand desperately clenched around her wand, she muttered a quick spell at her face, and the blood flow finally stopped. As her body clenched with pain, Harry could tell that only an inhuman effort enabled her to stand. She looked over at him, hatred burning throughout her body. She leveled her wand at him and shot a spell in his direction.
Remus' quick thinking saved them both. Throwing up a powerful shield around him, they felt the percussion of a massive explosion buffet them. The two of them were thrown from the boulder as it was torn apart by her spell. Their cover was gone. They were too far away from the car to run to it, and they had several incredibly pissed off Deatheaters summoning their remaining strength for an all out attack.
Harry scrambled for his feet and stood in front of Remus. "Stay behind me," he said coolly. "Any spell they cast at me will bounce back, they can't hurt you if they can't get you."
"Foolish child," spat Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord knows all. He warned us not to aim our spells AT you, but he told us of other ways to get you."
As one the remaining Deatheaters chanted a complex spell. Their wand movements moved in unison to the dreadful chant. Harry felt the earth shake. It was becoming harder to stand. Suddenly a powerful jolt sent him and Remus to their knees.
"Remus, you have to get away. Apparate out of here, now!" Harry shouted.
"No! I won't leave you. Let's see what happens, and we'll manage to get out of here."
Suddenly a large fissure opened up in the ground in front of Lestrange. Molten lava bubbled up from the earth's core, an impossibility, Harry thought. Slowly, but surely the fissure cracked open more earth, moving towards them.
Remus desperately cast a levitation spell on Harry, shooting him up into the air.
"Let me down you idiot!" Harry shouted. "You're unprotected like that!"
Lestrange realized it as well. Taking advantage of Remus' concentration on Harry, she muttered a curse at Remus, causing his body to convulse in pain. When he lost his focus on Harry, the spell ended, and Harry tumbled to the ground.
Unfortunately, the fissure had made its way to where Harry was falling, and he found himself racing to a pit of bubbling lava. He flailed about for his wand, desperately trying to get his hand on it to cast something, anything to get him away from the certain death of the lava.
Harry could feel the heat rising from the ground, he was seconds away from death. Just as his feet started feeling incredibly warm, and a wave of the hot air seared his face, he stopped in the middle of the air.
A soft golden nimbus surrounded him and he hovered there, just above the lava. Laughing, Harry shouted with glee. In the middle of the Deatheaters he saw the newly Apparated form of Professor Dumbledore. Harry was again awed as he saw the old wizard radiate power. Shooting spell after spell, he disrupted the spell and the ground stopped shaking. Harry felt himself being pushed away from the wounded ground, and landed on soft earth just steps away from Remus. Bellatrix had scampered away from Dumbledore and was aiming at his back to cast a spell. Suddenly half a dozen Aurors Apparated in and started shooting spells to come to Dumbledore's defense.
Lestrange shifted her aim and threw a deadly spell at an Auror, who neatly dodged it and threw a jinx in her direction. She dodged and jumped away, cursing as she ran. Pausing to take aim at Remus, she muttered a lengthy incantation and whirled her wand around her head before shooting a spell at him. Harry dove for the beam, but somehow managed to miss it. The spell intersected with Remus' chest, causing the already wounded man to scream with unbearable agony. His body glowed for a moment and his hair seemed to stand on end. Agony was clearly written across his face, and he slumped to the ground. Harry rushed to his friend's side, only to find Remus unconscious and incapable of being revived. Worried about hurting him more, he just held his friend, and cried for Dumbledore.
The powerful wizard rallied the Aurors to subdue the remaining Deatheaters, and quickly rushed over to his former student and employee. Sampling the magic in the air, he paled at the spell he determined that Lestrange had cast. Looking Harry with pain in his eyes, he quickly created a Portkey.
"You must go to St. Mungo's immediately. Tell the Mediwizard that Remus has been hit with the Silverthread Curse. I will be there as soon as I can with the necessary potions to alleviate his suffering. Now quickly, time is of the essence."
Nodding his acceptance of Dumbledore's orders, but confused as to the meaning of what he was being told, Harry grabbed hold of Remus and the Portkey. He felt the awful pull at the navel and was whisked away to St. Mungo's.
When he arrived, he was immediately greeted by a large, imposing figure.
"Dumbledore sent word. We must hurry."
Several mediwizards grabbed hold of the collapsed form of Remus Lupin and whisked him away. Harry started to follow but was held back by the large wizard who had spoken.
"There's nothing you can do right now. We have to wait and see. This will not be easy, and we might easily lose him. You have to be prepared for that. The Silverthread Curse has never successfully been cured, but then again we've never gotten a victim this quickly. We have some reason for hope."
The large man turned and disappeared, following the wizards who had taken Remus. Harry gaped after him in astonished silence. After a few moments the mediwizard's words sank in and Harry fell to his knees, screaming in agony at the thought of losing the last of the Marauders.
"Ronald Weasley, where are we going?" Hermione asked as Ron was tugging her hand, pulling her up the stair case.
Dinner had ended but the party was still going on, celebrating Remus Lupin's appointment as Deputy Minister. Ron had discretely pushed Hermione out of the kitchen and started directing her up the stairs.
"Let's go up to the library," Ron said. "I want to get away from the noise."
Hermione looked suspiciously at him, but seeing nothing that she could object about, she mentally shrugged and followed him up the stairs. As they climbed the stairs, Hermione flinched at the sound of a small explosion coming from the kitchen.
"Must be the twins," Ron laughed. "Merlin only knows what they've concocted for their indoor fireworks."
Giving a nervous laugh, Hermione kept climbing up the stairs. Finding herself disconcertingly out of breath, she walked into Sirius' library. Her library, she reminded herself mentally, awed again at the generosity that Sirius had demonstrated to her in his will.
"Okay Ron, now what's going on," she demanded. "You can't honestly believe that I'd fall for your story that you wanted to go to the library."
Ron gave her one of his trademark innocent expressions, which only confirmed to Hermione that Ron was up to something. She knew him entirely too well and had long since learned to fight of the feelings that surged in her heart when he gave her that adorable expression.
Now that things were finally in the open, their fights had a difference to them. Hermione knew that neither of them was entirely comfortable with expressing their deeper emotions, so they covered their feelings with banter and playful jousting. Every once in a while the newness of the ability to express these feelings surged up and one or the other would inadvertently say something too serious. Just as quickly they would both back away from those words.
It scared her, just a little, about how strongly she felt for this red haired wizard. Although she had known that she felt more than friendship since sometime in their second year, it wasn't until their fourth year that she finally realized that he returned those feelings. Watching him struggle on the night of the Yule Ball still made her warm inside. Although she still felt remorse for the way Viktor had misinterpreted their relationship, Ron's jealousy was cemented in her brain.
The past year was incredibly difficult. She had been so worried about Harry, worried about upsetting him, or distracting him. She repeatedly forced herself to avoid the feelings that she had for Ron, and realized that Ron too was trying to protect Harry. They never talked about it, they never had to, but she and Ron closed ranks around Harry to protect him as best they could.
But that awful night at the Ministry changed everything. She was so scared that something bad would happen. When they got separated, she didn't know what to do. Despite her intellect and ability to think under pressure, part of her mind raced at the possibilities of being defeated by those horrible Deatheaters. Despite her efforts, despite the quick thinking, she had been knocked unconscious and wounded terribly. A month later, after dozens of potions, her body still ached at the memory of the pain.
Maybe this is what it is like for Harry, she thought. At least a little. Suddenly, out of no where, a stab of pain threatens to make you feel like you are about to collapse. And the memories come rushing back.
Fortunately she had only felt the twinges of pain in the morning or late at night, while she was in her bedroom. Of course Ginny knew what was happening, but Ginny had her own secrets, her own pain to live with. They had an unspoken agreement to keep this to themselves. So no one else knew what Hermione was going through, and no one would.
If it got out, well, Ron would try to protect her, in his obnoxiously adorable ham-handed way. Harry would try to help, but then get overwhelmed with his sense of misplaced guilt, and privately sulk and withdraw further. The adults would try to coddle her or force her to take more foul potions, ignoring her protests that all she needed was time to heal, to work through the pain.
Sighing, she shook her head and turned her attention back to Ron who was waving his hand in front of her face.
"Hello? Herms, anyone in there?" he asked.
"Sorry, just thinking. Anyway, now what was it that made you voluntarily enter a room full of books?"
"Erm, well, I just wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit," he said nervously. "You know how noisy it gets with everyone, and they're all so excited about Dad and Remus that I imagine it will be noisy for a while."
Hermione sensed immediately that there was something amiss. Ron's excuse seemed incredibly thin, and he was entirely out of sorts. His body shifted uncomfortably under Hermione's gaze.
"Something is bothering you, Ron. What is it?"
Ron stared in consternation at the remarkable witch in front of him. She truly did know him like one of her books. He couldn't hide much of anything from her, not that he really wanted to, at least not too often. But this was different. He really just wanted to get out of the kitchen before he said something that would offend his best friend and his family.
Ron didn't know where the thought came from, but he was not pleased with Harry's theatrical moves at the Ministry. It was all well and good that Fudge was removed, but Ron wasn't entirely sure that it was a good idea to put his father in that position. The guilt that surged up at that thought hit Ron like a physical blow, but he didn't really understand why Harry picked his Dad to be the Minister.
He accepted Harry's reasoning at face value, and agreed that if Fudge could be Minister anyone could. But something nagged at Ron's brain about the whole event. Maybe it was the overbearing drama of it all. Especially Dumbledore's statement. He could understand people that didn't know Harry calling him the Boy Who Lived, but it was unbearable to hear it coming from Dumbledore's mouth.
It offended Ron for some reason. And because he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for that feeling, Ron also felt incredibly guilty. He felt guilty for questioning his father's qualifications to be Minister. He felt guilty for being angry at Dumbledore. And he felt guilty for being upset with Harry.
"I, erm, I don't know Herms, I just feel, I don't know. I just feel uneasy about all of this, I guess."
Sighing heavily, Ron collapsed into a nearby couch. Hermione stared thoughtfully at him for a few moments before sitting down next to him. Grabbing hold of his hand and gently rubbing his fingers she looked deep into his eyes.
"I know Ron, I know it's hard. But you have to understand that Harry didn't ask for this, for any of it. He's just trying to do what he can to survive. It's hard, I know, being friends with someone everyone else thinks of as a hero, when to us he's just a friend. But I know you remember everything that happened during the Triwizard Championship. You know Harry doesn't seek the attention, it just follows him."
"It's not that-"Ron sputtered before Hermione interrupted him.
"Wait. Just wait. I know you were upset by today's events, but did Harry really have any choice? He had to remove Fudge, or else we'd lose. And who else would he pick besides your Dad? It's a great choice, and you know it. So what's wrong? Are you jealous again? I know it is hard to be in his shadow, but he needs us to support him, he needs our friendship, now more than ever."
"I know," Ron said impatiently. "But, it's just so dramatic. I mean, Dumbledore calling him by that stupid title, like Harry's some epic hero. The Boy Who Lived, Merlin. It's disconcerting."
"Oh Ron," Hermione said softly, disappointment creeping into her voice. "I don't mean to sound obnoxious, but I don't think you understood what Dumbledore was doing with that little speech. By calling Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' it elevated the moment, it added weight to Harry's speech, and it prevented anyone from objecting. By calling on the hero, not Harry, but 'The Boy Who Lived' Dumbledore was telling the world that the hero of the last war against Voldemort was part of this decision. With Dumbledore calling Harry that, it added Dumbledore's prestige to the decision. It was a silly little statement that had tremendous impact on any wavering head of Department."
A dawning look of comprehension inched its way across Ron's face. He started to look at the days events in a different light, and with Hermione's explanation, things started to make more sense.
"But how did Harry know how to set all this up? When did he figure it out?"
"I don't know," Hermione said chuckling. "Maybe we should ask him. But do you see that he wasn't doing it because he wanted to, but because he had to?"
"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard though, being in his shadow all the time. The Best Mate of the Boy Who Lived. Bloody awkward title. And I'm in your shadow too, you know. The Most Brilliant Witch's Boyfriend. When do I get my own epic name?"
Ron's voice trailed off as he looked into Hermione's face. She had gasped for breath and gone pale. Worried he looked frantically around the library, grabbing for his wand.
"What is it? Herms? You okay? What's wrong?" he demanded anxiously.
"What did you call yourself?" she asked in a whisper.
"Huh? Oh, Harry's best mate."
"The other thing," she said with an anxious tone.
"Oh, erm," he stuttered, blushing. "Erm, I guess I said I was your boyfriend. But, erm, well..."
Before he could finish his sentence he found himself wrapped up in Hermione's arms as she was kissing him fiercely. As her manic kisses slowly subsided into a more interesting technique, Ron found himself struggling for air.
"Bloody hell, what was that for?" he gasped with a grin.
"Well, we never really talked about it, so it surprised me a little when you called yourself my boyfriend. You don't want to take that back, do you?"
"Sweet Merlin, no way. Unless you want me to?" he asked, anxiety filling his voice.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed quickly. "Not at all, it's just, well, we've not discussed it and I wasn't sure what you were thinking."
"You're my everything, Herms. I don't want to be apart from you at all. I mean, well, sometimes you know when I have, erm, things to do, you know what I mean. But other than that, well, yeah, I guess, I mean, well what I'm trying to say is Hermione Granger, will you be my girlfriend?"
Ron's feelings for Hermione finally overwhelmed his nerves as he struggled over his words. He was stuttering madly, blushing furiously, and his eyes danced nervously from Hermione's face to the floor between them.
Hermione sprouted a triumphant grin and gently reached out for Ron's hand. Taking his hand in hers, she leaned in closely and whispered into his ear.
"Yes, Ron, I will be your girlfriend."
Gently kissing his ear as she finished, she slowly worked her mouth down to his mouth and drew him in to a deep, passionate kiss that lasted for an incredibly long time.
***
It was very early in the morning, the sun was threatening to rise above the horizon at any moment, and Ron and Hermione had finally untangled themselves from each others arms. As they snuck back down to their separate rooms, whispering a silent good night to each other they quietly shut their doors.
As Ron tried to quietly sneak across the room to his bed, he didn't notice that Harry was sitting up, watching his progress. Ron had just about gotten into his bed when Harry picked up a shoe and threw it at Ron's back.
"What the heck," Ron spluttered. "Harry," he said whispering, "what are you doing? You'll wake everyone up?"
Grinning at his friend, Harry let out a small chuckle. "I'm not making any noise over here you prat. What are you doing sneaking in so late?"
"Oh, erm, I um, I had to go use the toilet. Yeah, I had to do that."
"Ron, I've been up for an hour. You couldn't have been gone that long. Now, try honesty. Where were you?" Harry grinned. "Or perhaps I should wait until tomorrow and ask Hermione at breakfast?"
"NO!" Ron whispered hoarsely. "No, you can't! Alright you bloody twit, we were up in the library."
"Please, please, no details," Harry protested. "I just wanted to tease you a little. So, did you have fun?"
Yeah," said Ron, determined to get his friend back. "She does this interesting little thing with her mouth that makes my knees go weak..."
"Stop! Mercy!" cried Harry. "I give up! Please, don't talk about it any more!"
Both boys dissolved into laughter, and Ron felt the tension he had been feeling around Harry finally float away. It was stupid, he knew, to still be jealous of Harry at times, but Ron felt certain that he'd always have a sense of jealousy when it came to Harry.
Not that he'd want to trade lives for a minute. The pain and tragedy, the loneliness, all these things made Ron realize how lucky he was in his own life. His parents, brothers, sister, now Hermione, all these people made Ron very lucky indeed.
Looking over at Harry, Ron realized that Harry had been up for a while and tremendous bags were hanging under his eyes. It didn't really surprise him since he had seen Harry like this too many times, but it concerned him like new every time he saw it. Harry realized that Ron was staring at his eyes and he quickly turned away from Ron.
"Want to talk about it?" Ron asked quietly as he changed for bed.
"No," sighed Harry. "It's just hard to sleep here. Not that anywhere else is any better, but it's particularly hard here. Anyway I have to start getting ready for my stupid shareholders meeting. The bloody Boy Who Lived has to make another appearance." He sighed.
"Well, maybe you can go back to just being Harry once we get back to Hogwarts," suggested Ron. "Unless, of course, you've gotten used to all the attention and decide to stick with this hero business a little longer."
Harry glared at Ron and realized that he was mostly joking. Shaking his head, he got out of his bed and started to change.
"Not bloody likely. But I'm going to go downstairs so you can sleep. I'll try not to tell your mum what time you came in here."
Grinning at the panicked look on Ron's face, Harry quietly shut the door and slowly crept down the hallway. As he passed the girls' room, he heard Hermione whispering goodnight to Ginny. Somewhat disappointed that he had missed their conversation, he silently walked down to the main floor and went into the kitchen for some milk.
***
"What are you doing?" Ginny whispered to Hermione as the older girl tried to sneak into their shared bedroom.
Hermione gasped, startled and shocked that Ginny was awake.
"Sorry," Hermione whispered back. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Hermione instantly regretted that statement when she saw a painful look cross the little redheaded witch's face. Apparently Ginny had another nightmare. They were not frequent, but often enough that Hermione knew enough about them.
"New or old?" she asked, calmly.
"Old," sighed Ginny. "I was able to stop it and wake up on my own, which is progress I guess. I don't know how Harry lives with it, I know his are worse than mine."
Hermione nodded and climbed into bed. "I don't know how he handles much of what he faces," she agreed. "But the nightmares are the worst, for both of you. Especially with you waking up in the middle of the night and not able to get back to sleep, it's not fair."
Flashing an impish grin at Hermione, Ginny looked at her speculatively. She was determined to change the subject and try to get back to sleep. "Hermione, dear, it's not the middle of the night, it's almost dawn. Now let's stop talking about dreary old dreams and why don't you tell me what's responsible for that broad grin plastering your face?"
Despite the dim light Ginny saw that Hermione's face turned crimson as a delighted smile made her light up. Ginny giggled with delight that she had succeeded in embarrassing her friend. As Hermione plopped down in her bed and started explaining what had caused her to get in so late, Ginny let out a little squeal of delight.
"So the stupid git finally got up the nerve, did he?"
"Hey, that's my boyfriend you are talking about! But yes, he did."
"Well, good. I suppose it's too much to hope that this will cut down on the bickering between the two of you? Now that you'll have other ways to show how you feel?"
"Oh I don't know," replied Hermione mysteriously. "You never know what will happen. We all choose to show our affection in different ways, don't we?"
The knowing look Hermione gave Ginny made her distinctly uncomfortable. Hermione was never very subtle, but they had agreed to drop this line of discussion, hadn't they? Sighing at the futility of it all, she gave Hermione a lopsided grin.
"Enough, Hermione. It's late, and we need some sleep. Goodnight."
"Fine, enough for now," Hermione sighed, not quite keeping the grin off her face. "Goodnight."
As Ginny reached up to turn off the light by her bed, she could have sworn she heard the sound of feet shuffling at the door.
***
"Witches and Wizards, I thank you for this opportunity to address our dear and wonderful shareholders."
Walter Scrivener, Wizard in Chief of the Daily Prophet, was having the time of his life. It was his first shareholder meeting since he had taken over the paper and he was going to introduce the three most important wizards in Britain. The Board of Directors was sure to be impressed at the events of this meeting, and the shareholders would be pleased to see the paper moving in a vastly different direction.
"This has been an eventful year for the Daily Prophet and I mean to improve our product and the value of your shares in this company. For centuries this paper has stood for journalistic integrity and for upholding the magical way of life. For the past few years, due to unfortunate circumstances, we have lost our way. No longer. I pledge to you here and now that the Daily Prophet will once again be an honest paper, free from outside influence. To address this, I give you the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley."
Mr. Weasley was genuinely shocked by the load cheer that greeted his introduction. He found it hard to believe that he would truly be accepted as a legitimate Minister. But he had received hundreds, perhaps thousands, of letters by owl congratulating him, and as he had entered the vast hall this morning he had been mobbed by well wishers. Only the quick thinking of the Auror bodyguards had saved him when they promptly escorted him to a private room to wait for the meeting to start.
***
It was fortuitous that they had done so, because he found himself face to face with Walter Scrivener. Arthur had certainly heard of this man before, every well-read wizard had, but never had they been in the same room together. For a brief moment Arthur wished they weren't in the same room now. Walter Scrivener, Wizard in Chief of the Daily Prophet, was fuming, and screaming at one of his staff.
"How is it that no one ever told me of this? How am I supposed to run the paper if I can't even print the news? Whose idea was this in the first place?"
"I'm sorry sir," stammered a young wizard who was cowering in fear. "The Minister ordered it, and threatened to shut down the paper if we didn't agree. Now we have to ratify the agreement with the new Minister or the paper is automatically shut down."
"WHAT?!?" exclaimed Mr. Weasley and Scrivener at the same time. At the sound of Mr. Weasley's voice, Scrivener finally realized that someone had entered the room. Looking wildly at the Minister of Magic and his imposing bodyguards, his fury only increased.
"And I suppose you are here to make me sign this cursed document? Well, I refuse! Shut down the paper, confiscate everything! I'll start my own paper and expose all of this! This is outrageous!"
Mr. Weasley was confused at Walter Scrivener's rage. He wasn't sure what the cause was, but realized it had to do with some agreement that Scrivener obviously thought he was there to enforce. Realizing that there was no way to calm the man down while trying to figure out what was going on, he calmly pulled out his wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he said, causing the editor to collapse to the ground.
"Now," Mr. Weasley continued calmly, but wit ha nervous edge to his voice. "Let's see what we have going on. Young man, if you would, please explain to me what has the inestimable Mr. Scrivener is so upset about, I'm sure we can resolve this without too much shouting."
The young wizard stared at the Minister of Magic, incapable of speech. Sighing, Mr. Weasley picked up the document that Scrivener had been waving in his tirade.
Informational Decree #3 – TOP SECRET
The Minister of Magic shall have complete and final control over the
content of every edition, printing, copy, and/or production of the
Daily Prophet.
Failure on the part of the Daily Prophet Board of Directors, Wizard in
Chief, or any of its staff, shall result in the forfeiture of the
assets and material possessions of the Daily Prophet, L.L.C.
"Oh dear," fretted Mr. Weasley to himself. "Oh dear, oh dear. This is just awful, terrible. No wonder the Prophet was so horrible last year, and so cruel to Harry. Well, this just won't do. Not at all. Let's see, erm, Jones is it?"
"Yes sir," said on of the bulky Aurors stationed at the door.
"Yes, excellent. I don't suppose you have any idea how to revoke a decree? What the process is?"
"Actually, I do, sir. All copies of Ministerial decrees are magically linked to each other. All you have to do is write 'revoked' across it and then tear it in two. All copies will immediately be destroyed and a record of its revocation kept at your office."
"Excellent!" cried Mr. Weasley. "Young man, a quill. Hop to it, no time to delay. This terrible thing must be destroyed immediately!"
The young wizard was still shocked but quickly scrambled about trying to find a quill. Coming up empty he looked desperately at the Minister of Magic.
Arthur sighed and looked about. Seeing a feather sticking out of Mr. Scrivener's pocket, he bent down and plucked the quill out of his pocket. "Sorry for the indignity, we'll get you set back right away."
The Minister of Magic laid the decree out across the table and hastily scratched on its surface. 'Revoked by order of the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley' and tore the paper in two. A shimmer of light shot out from the destroyed document and shot up through the ceiling.
"I presume that should suffice. Now," he said while removing the spell from Mr. Scrivener, "perhaps we can have a civil conversation?"
"What are you playing at Minister?" Mr. Scrivener asked suspiciously. "You barge in here, petrify me, and then tear up that decree. What do you want in exchange?"
"I'm sorry about intruding, sir." Mr. Weasley desperately hoped to calm this man down. It would be a difficult time if he had him as an enemy. "The crowd was mobbing me and my guards here wanted to give me some space. I'm not accustomed to the celebrity, or the guards, to be honest. As for casting a spell on you, I apologize, but you were a trifle angry, it seemed the best way to calm the situation down.
"As for the decree, well, it deserved to be destroyed. It should never have been written in the first place. I am sure it was solely Fudge's decision, but I will ensure that no one at the Ministry will try to do anything like that again so long as I am Minister. You must be free to write the truth. So long as it is the truth." Mr. Weasley's voice grew very stern. "I am not pleased with the tone of the articles over the last year, but I suspect that a wizard of your reputation will impose a higher standard. I know that you will keep the Ministry on its toes, make sure the Ministry does not get arrogant with power, which is good and just. I only ask that you not reveal dangerous or classified information that will help us defeat Voldemort. I trust you will use your better judgment, but do not hesitate to ask my opinion. I will never ask you to withhold information unless there is a solid reason, such as a life at stake."
"Minister," Mr. Scrivener replied with absolute sincerity in his voice. "I do not believe anyone truly knows how fortunate we are to have you in office. I appreciate your honesty and I guarantee you that the Prophet will not knowingly endanger the lives of our readers or Ministry officials. We are all together in trying to defeat this evil. I thank you for removing that decree, I hope we can have a mutually beneficial relationship."
***
As the crowd's cheer died down, the Minister of Magic gazed out across the room. Waiting for the room to be silent, he quietly muttered 'sonorous' and pointed his wand at his throat.
"Thank you Mr. Scrivener. Before I begin I must say that I am a huge fan of yours. My wife and I have read all of your tomes and we were thrilled when you accepted this position. Now, as Minister, I am even more pleased that you are here. We face dark and dangerous times and only the truth will help us survive. In recent years the Daily Prophet has not been a truthful paper, but I am pleased to see that the shareholders have replaced the Board of Directors and the Wizard in Chief. Now, I can certainly appreciate the need to change leadership," his speech was interrupted by appreciative laughter from the audience. Mr. Weasley smiled and continued.
"But there is a matter that in unresolved, which calls us here today. My successor objected to the final seat on the Board of Directors going to its rightful owner. By merit of his financial holding in the company, Harry Potter is due a seat on the board. The former Minister challenged that due to Harry being underage, amongst other reasons, I am sure."
Again Arthur's speech was interrupted by knowing chuckles.
"But I stand here as the newly appointed Minister of Magic to inform the shareholders that the Ministry has no objection to Harry serving on the Board of Directors. Indeed, I urge you to ratify that decision with as much haste as possible."
Walter Scrivener jumped up and motioned to the back of the room.
"Please bring in the candidate, Harry James Potter."
Harry was truly getting sick of the pomposity of these situations. At least today he wasn't being called 'The Boy Who Lived' but witches and wizards that were decades older than him were looking at him with something close to awe. Grumbling to himself Harry marched through the crowd and made his way to the podium in front.
"Are there any objections to granting Harry Potter his seat on the Board of Directors as warranted by his financial holding with our company?" Mr. Scrivener asked. "His term will be for three years, unless a shareholder vote asks him to leave earlier. At the end of three years, he can seek reappointment to the Board. Again, are there any objections?"
The silence in the room was deafening. Every shareholder felt that Harry had earned the right, not just through his inheritance, but because of everything else he had been through. Seeing that there would be no objection with Fudge gone, Scrivener nodded his head.
"Then it is unanimous. Harry James Potter, welcome to the Board of Directors. Would you like to address the shareholders?"
It was a routine question, and the answer was just as routine. In fact, Walter Scrivener never even anticipated that there would be a different answer than usual, so he was shocked when Harry stepped up to the podium and asked the Minister of Magic to cast a spell on him. Once his voice would carry, Harry started speaking.
The audience was stunned. First they were horrified, then they were terrified. But as Harry continued speaking it was as if each person there felt their courage grow. Recognizing that Harry was including them in something larger than themselves, the audience listened intently to Harry's words. When he was finished speaking, the shocked silence informed Harry that he had accomplished what he had set out to do that day. Looking up at the Minister of Magic, his friend and father-figure, he smiled.
"Now it's your turn. Remus and I have to go take a day off from all this."
***
As Harry met Remus at the entrance of the building, his favorite former teacher looked a little shocked at what Harry had done.
"Don't you think that was dangerous? You know the reaction that is likely to bring about, don't you?"
Sighing Harry nodded. He had a haunted look and Remus immediately regretted saying anything.
"Yes," Harry said. "It will likely provoke another attack, but maybe it will not be planned as well because of the rage. Maybe it will fail this time. But I don't see how it is any less helpful to keep that information to ourselves. The more people know what they are facing, the more likely they are to choosing the right side. And if I helped reduce the fear, the panic, at the mere mention of Voldemort's name, well, maybe it's a step in the right direction.
"But enough, this is supposed to be our day of fun. Where are we headed?"
"It's a secret, but luckily enough I was able to borrow a car from Fred and George so we don't have to worry about taking too long to get there."
"Ugh, couldn't we just walk?" Harry asked plaintively. "That car is a terror."
"Nonsense," replied Remus. "It just needed a few modifications to the spells. It will be a much more sensible drive, I promise. Now get in, we have a lot to do and not much time!"
As they drove through the countryside, Harry saw that Remus had indeed improved upon the twins' car. The colors no longer shifted hues quite so erratically and the speed was much more sensible, if faster than most muggle cars drove. All in all it was actually a pleasant drive.
Harry passed the time by asking Remus a variety of questions about his parents. He was desperate for a sense of understanding about the people responsible for his existence. Harry learned that his father was incredibly intelligent, but never let anyone know that he actually studied. He preferred people to think he was a natural genius. Lily was the studious type, she probably would have made Hermione seem almost scandalously lazy. Remus talked about how they had been forced, time and time again, to work on projects together by various professors, and each time they almost came to blows. Only James' chivalry prevented him from ever carrying through on any of his threats against Lily, and only Lily's devotion to the rules prevented her from doing so as well.
"So, if they hated each other so much, how'd they ever get married?" Remus could hear the despondency in Harry's voice, so he pulled off the road and the two of them got out so they could take a short walk in a field full of daisies.
"Harry, love comes about in a variety of ways. Look at Ron and Hermione. They fight and bicker all the time. But you never questioned the way they feel towards each other, right? And Molly and Arthur, they certainly aren't the flowers and candies type every day?
"I can't honestly say that I know what day they turned from hating each other to being absolutely devoted to each other. But it was just that quick. One day Sirius pulled a horrific prank, oh it was awful, but hysterical. Lily walked in and was about to take away hundreds of points. She was absolutely furious!
"But then your father walked in, surveyed the scene, and walked over to your mum. He whispered something in her ear and she blushed. It was a beautiful color, and so out of place on her cheeks.
"She turned back to Sirius and spoke with an authority only Dumbledore or McGonnagal could have matched. 'James tells me you will have this cleaned before supper. Don't let him down.'
"Then she took your dad's hand in hers and they walked out of the Great Hall together, as if they had been doing that for years. From that point on they were a couple, and you would have sworn they had been together forever. It was amazing how much they both changed. She relaxed a lot, even joined us in a few of our pranks, though she never let us prank Severus again. And your Dad got more serious, he really focused on his studies. He wanted to be Minister, he said. But they were deeply in love. After school ended they didn't spend much time apart, and were engaged right away. They moved in together and were happy, very happy. Until, well, they were happy."
Harry wiped a few tears away from his eyes and looked out across the field. It helped, a little. It helped to know that they did love each other, that Snape's Pensieve only reflected a point in time, a time before his dad had changed. It made Harry wish for a different past, one where his parents hadn't been killed, but it helped him put his own past into a better perspective.
He turned back to his friend and mentor, Harry was about to challenge him to a race back to the car when he saw a look of panic on Remus' face.
"Harry get down! now!" Remus barked while he reached in his robes for his wand.
Harry dove to the ground, reaching in his robes for his wand, when he felt the brush of a feather narrowly miss his head. Rolling on the ground ducking behind a boulder that Remus had just transfigured from a pebble, he gasped at the sight of a dozen Deatheaters marching on their position. They had an array of muggle projectile weapons aimed at the two of them, and were determinedly closing the distance between them.
"They've figured out spells don't work on you, for now, so they've resorted to other means," Remus said grimly.
"Will that work? What about the protection spell?" Harry asked.
"I have no idea, but it's not a good idea to try and find out, so keep your head down. I've contacted Dumbledore and let him know we're under attack, he should be here with some Aurors soon. But we have to figure how to delay them for a few minutes."
"I've got a few ideas," said Harry as a bullet from the gun one of the Deatheaters was carrying ricocheted off the boulder. "How good are you at transfiguration?"
"The best," Remus replied modestly. "Seeing as how I turn into the wolf once a month, I've learned a thing or two over the years."
"Excellent. Can you turn these pebbles into really sharp metal blades?"
"I think so. But I don't see how that's going to help."
"What if you put in a time delay? A few seconds or so ought to do it."
"Umm, sure. But I still don't understand what you are thinking."
"Trust me," Harry replied with a nasty grin. "Just put a few second delay on the transfiguration while I distract them."
Grabbing a handful of pebbles, Harry stood up and started throwing them at the oncoming Deatheaters. His aim was excellent; practice on the Quidditch pitch gave him terrific knowledge of velocity and angles. The pebbles started pelting his enemies on the head. At first the Deatheaters ducked and dodged from the pebbles, worried that there was more to his attack. After a few hit with no apparent damage, they became emboldened.
"Aww, does ickle wittle Potty think that wittle wocks is going to hurt us?" Harry felt his bones go cold with hate. It was his godfather's murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was leading this little hit squad against Harry and Remus, and that alone told him how much pain his speech at the Daily Prophet meeting had caused Voldemort.
As his anger and pain flared anew in his heart, Harry continued the barrage, perfectly hitting each Deatheater in the head or shoulder. As he had hoped, after several hits, they started ignoring the pebbles while they continued closing in on his position. Soon they were no more than ten feet away, a short distance. They stopped their march and aimed their various weapons at him, crouching down as a volley of fire same at him, he hurriedly grabbed the transfigured pebbles that Remus had been working on.
When the fusillade had died down, Harry cautiously peered over the boulder. The fools didn't really understand how the muggle devices they were using worked, so most of the weapons had jammed or run out of ammunition. As they fumbled with the strange devices, Harry quickly threw his last normal pebbles at them. He was thrilled when they ignored his barrage.
"Quick," he whispered, motioning to Remus. "Cast a strengthening charm on me, so I'm ten times stronger than normal." Remus quickly complied, comprehension dawning on his face. Harry shifted his stance and threw the transfigured pebbles at them.
His aim was good and his charmed strength made the pebbles fly through the air. The pebbles soared precisely where he had aimed and they hurtled inexorably towards the foolish Deatheaters. Just as they arced down towards their impending targets, each of the pebbles flashed a brilliant shade of blue and were quickly transfigured into metal blades that were amazingly sharp.
Harry ducked down amidst the cries of agony as the metal shards dug into flesh and bone. Remus had done well. The blades were infinitely sharper than usual bits of metal, and the force that Harry threw them with caused them to dig deep into the Deatheaters. Risking a quick glance, Harry and Remus peered over the boulder.
Most had been hit directly, in their arms, chests, or head. A few were on the ground, unconscious or dead, Harry didn't care which, so long as they were out of the action. Most were screaming in agony or fury, and quickly discarded their muggle devices for more familiar wands.
But worst of all was Bellatrix. A shard had hit her in her right eye, shattering the orb. Blood spurted out of her eye socket and her hands were clamped over her face, trying to keep the blood from flowing. It was futile. Blood poured out of her head and was moaning with inhuman agony.
Harry stared dispassionately at what he saw, and felt odd that he had no emotion at this turn of events. He was not pleased, remorseful, or guilty. He just watched as the wretched woman writhed with pain. Several Deatheaters tried to help her, but she pushed them away. Most were stunned, incapable of mounting an attack, until Lestrange straightened with fury etched on her face. One hand desperately clenched around her wand, she muttered a quick spell at her face, and the blood flow finally stopped. As her body clenched with pain, Harry could tell that only an inhuman effort enabled her to stand. She looked over at him, hatred burning throughout her body. She leveled her wand at him and shot a spell in his direction.
Remus' quick thinking saved them both. Throwing up a powerful shield around him, they felt the percussion of a massive explosion buffet them. The two of them were thrown from the boulder as it was torn apart by her spell. Their cover was gone. They were too far away from the car to run to it, and they had several incredibly pissed off Deatheaters summoning their remaining strength for an all out attack.
Harry scrambled for his feet and stood in front of Remus. "Stay behind me," he said coolly. "Any spell they cast at me will bounce back, they can't hurt you if they can't get you."
"Foolish child," spat Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord knows all. He warned us not to aim our spells AT you, but he told us of other ways to get you."
As one the remaining Deatheaters chanted a complex spell. Their wand movements moved in unison to the dreadful chant. Harry felt the earth shake. It was becoming harder to stand. Suddenly a powerful jolt sent him and Remus to their knees.
"Remus, you have to get away. Apparate out of here, now!" Harry shouted.
"No! I won't leave you. Let's see what happens, and we'll manage to get out of here."
Suddenly a large fissure opened up in the ground in front of Lestrange. Molten lava bubbled up from the earth's core, an impossibility, Harry thought. Slowly, but surely the fissure cracked open more earth, moving towards them.
Remus desperately cast a levitation spell on Harry, shooting him up into the air.
"Let me down you idiot!" Harry shouted. "You're unprotected like that!"
Lestrange realized it as well. Taking advantage of Remus' concentration on Harry, she muttered a curse at Remus, causing his body to convulse in pain. When he lost his focus on Harry, the spell ended, and Harry tumbled to the ground.
Unfortunately, the fissure had made its way to where Harry was falling, and he found himself racing to a pit of bubbling lava. He flailed about for his wand, desperately trying to get his hand on it to cast something, anything to get him away from the certain death of the lava.
Harry could feel the heat rising from the ground, he was seconds away from death. Just as his feet started feeling incredibly warm, and a wave of the hot air seared his face, he stopped in the middle of the air.
A soft golden nimbus surrounded him and he hovered there, just above the lava. Laughing, Harry shouted with glee. In the middle of the Deatheaters he saw the newly Apparated form of Professor Dumbledore. Harry was again awed as he saw the old wizard radiate power. Shooting spell after spell, he disrupted the spell and the ground stopped shaking. Harry felt himself being pushed away from the wounded ground, and landed on soft earth just steps away from Remus. Bellatrix had scampered away from Dumbledore and was aiming at his back to cast a spell. Suddenly half a dozen Aurors Apparated in and started shooting spells to come to Dumbledore's defense.
Lestrange shifted her aim and threw a deadly spell at an Auror, who neatly dodged it and threw a jinx in her direction. She dodged and jumped away, cursing as she ran. Pausing to take aim at Remus, she muttered a lengthy incantation and whirled her wand around her head before shooting a spell at him. Harry dove for the beam, but somehow managed to miss it. The spell intersected with Remus' chest, causing the already wounded man to scream with unbearable agony. His body glowed for a moment and his hair seemed to stand on end. Agony was clearly written across his face, and he slumped to the ground. Harry rushed to his friend's side, only to find Remus unconscious and incapable of being revived. Worried about hurting him more, he just held his friend, and cried for Dumbledore.
The powerful wizard rallied the Aurors to subdue the remaining Deatheaters, and quickly rushed over to his former student and employee. Sampling the magic in the air, he paled at the spell he determined that Lestrange had cast. Looking Harry with pain in his eyes, he quickly created a Portkey.
"You must go to St. Mungo's immediately. Tell the Mediwizard that Remus has been hit with the Silverthread Curse. I will be there as soon as I can with the necessary potions to alleviate his suffering. Now quickly, time is of the essence."
Nodding his acceptance of Dumbledore's orders, but confused as to the meaning of what he was being told, Harry grabbed hold of Remus and the Portkey. He felt the awful pull at the navel and was whisked away to St. Mungo's.
When he arrived, he was immediately greeted by a large, imposing figure.
"Dumbledore sent word. We must hurry."
Several mediwizards grabbed hold of the collapsed form of Remus Lupin and whisked him away. Harry started to follow but was held back by the large wizard who had spoken.
"There's nothing you can do right now. We have to wait and see. This will not be easy, and we might easily lose him. You have to be prepared for that. The Silverthread Curse has never successfully been cured, but then again we've never gotten a victim this quickly. We have some reason for hope."
The large man turned and disappeared, following the wizards who had taken Remus. Harry gaped after him in astonished silence. After a few moments the mediwizard's words sank in and Harry fell to his knees, screaming in agony at the thought of losing the last of the Marauders.