Chapter 8- Azkaban
MISSING AURORS: CONNECTION TO WEASLEYS' WIZARD WHEEZES?
Eight Aurors disappeared from Diagon Alley after an unexpected attack last week. What does Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes have to do with it? There are suspicions that the joke shop may have been aiding Death Eaters in selling products under the table.
Ministry official Dolores Umbridge states, "Those twins have the power and the mind to sell products that will bring harm. I have witnessed their doings firsthand when I went to teach at Hogwarts several years previously. They have no doubt been selling products to Death Eaters."
Fred and George Weasley, partner-owners of the amazingly successful joke shop have been put to Azkaban and are waiting to be trialed. Meanwhile, Wheezes have been closed down by the Ministry and its products are being thoroughly searched.
Harry put down the Evening Prophet and frowned. He reached for his pumpkin juice and took a drink. Harry received his Auror certificate yesterday and had proudly gotten it framed to hang in his cubicle at the Ministry. Now he felt bitter about working for the Ministry at all, especially with the likes of Umbridge working there. There was a knock on the door. Harry went to open it and to his surprise, found Hogwarts' headmaster at the entrance to his flat.
"Good evening, Harry." Dumbledore said pleasantly.
Harry blinked several times in surprise before he caught himself to have manners and invited Dumbledore inside.
Harry hastily tried to kick some old newspapers out of the way and grabbed several shirts lying around and dumped them into the hamper.
"Good evening, sir," Harry answered, knowing he looked ridiculous wearing his pajamas. "Would you like something to drink?"
"That will be fine, Harry." Dumbledore answered pleasantly.
Harry nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen in desperate hope of finding something in there. He had put off grocery shopping until the very last minute. Luckily, he found two butterbeers and brought them over to the Headmaster.
"Now, Harry. You may be wondering what I am doing here so unexpectedly." Dumbledore spoke.
Harry nodded., handing Dumbledore a butterbeer which the Headmaster took gratefully.
"I have come to ask you for a favor." Dumbledore started. "School will be starting soon and once again, I find myself without a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry said. "I don't know anyone who is available. Perhaps Moody could? He's the only person I know."
"No, I can't ask Moody. He's too busy doing something for the Order at the moment. I dare say that the shock of his last occupation at Hogwarts has sufficed him to stay away for a long time. Quite unfortunate." Dumbledore paused for a moment. "I've come to ask you."
"Me?" Harry asked, choking on his butterbeer. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at Dumbledore in disbelief.
"Who better than the teacher who taught the D.A.?"
"How did you know about----"
"Never mind." Dumbledore said airily, waving his hand. "But I am asking you for this favor. It will only be for this year only."
A year at Hogwarts? Harry felt excited about the idea, yet shrewdly suspicious of Dumbledore's request.
"What about my job?"
"I have spoken to the Ministry. They are more than happy to let you go for an extended break, I shall say."
"They did?" Harry said in surprise. "But I've just started my job."
"They have agreed and I will be most grateful if you could accept my request. What do you say, Harry?"
Harry found it very strange for Dumbledore to ask him back to Hogwarts when he had just begun his Auror career. Surely he wasn't the only prospect for the job? Pushing this aside from his mind, he looked at Dumbledore who was waiting patiently for a response. He wanted to go back to Hogwarts again. He missed it.
Harry nodded. "Alright."
"Then that's settled." Dumbledore said, looking cheerful. "Now if you would excuse me, Harry. I have other affairs to attend to. I will see you at Hogwarts the first of September!"
With a final wave, Dumbledore stepped out and walked a few feet before he disappeared.
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"Hermione! Hermione!" Ron knocked on his girlfriend's door fervently.
A moment later, a sleepy Hermione opened the door looking very disgruntled.
"Ron, it is two o' clock in the morning, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, pulling her bathrobe around her tightly.
"Have you been attacked?" Ron asked suspiciously, looking left and right before inviting himself inside.
"No. I was sleeping." Hermione said in a matter-of-fact voice.
"How come you weren't returning my owls?"
"What owls?"
"I sent you an owl earlier and you never replied."
"You mean the one about locking my doors and putting bars on my windows? Yes, but I was going to reply back in the morning when I become fully awake." Hermione yawned.
"How come when I popped into the fireplace, you didn't talk to me? I called your name about ten times."
"You were never in the fireplace." Hermione said.
"I was too! I was around six this evening."
"Oh, well I was out."
"Out!" Ron cried, horrified of the very idea. "Hermione, your apartment is in Diagon Alley. You could have been attacked."
"Well, I needed to buy groceries. I couldn't very well just starve in fear of being hexed by someone leaping out of the vegetable stands, could I?" Hermione sighed at Ron's offended look. "Ron, why are you here? It's so late. Go home and sleep. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
"I cannot---you----this is impossible!" Ron huffed. "You cannot…been worrying me sick----I'm camping here!"
"W-What!" Hermione sputtered, now fully awake.
"I'd rather camp out here to make sure you're safe than to worry my mind out because somebody does not have the courtesy to return my owls." With this, Ron took off his traveling cloak and settled himself on the couch.
Hermione stared for a full five minutes as Ron went to sleep right in his clothes. He was snoring lightly by the time she turned to lock her door. Shaking her head, she got an extra blanket from her closet and pulled it over Ron, keeping him warm.
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Fred and George Weasley were in separate cells next to each other. They were very weak, both mentally from the never ceasing screaming their minds and physically from being too exhausted to eat their meals. The Dementors glided from cell to cell, rattling their bones among the bars and using their misty breath in retrieving memories. Both twins were trying to block out the horrifying voices in their heads.
"George?" Fred called out with a lot of effort. He was lying on the floor trying to focus on something simple and unemotional. So far, he had recited the times tables 34 times.
"Fred?" George answered, lifting his head off of the cold stone.
"Is the math helping?"
"Some. How are you doing?"
"Hanging in there."
It was a soft comfort that they had each other. Sometimes the pain became so unbearable that George wished to die. He wished that he could not feel. He wished that he couldn't think. For the first time in his life, he could not feel cheerful.
Another Dementor floated by and George's mind became dark once more. He closed his eyes.
6 times 6 is 36
7 times 7 is 49
8 times 8 is 64
But he could not block out this memory…and he heard his mother screaming…
9 times 9…times 9….is….
"NO! NOT FABIAN AND GIDEON! NO!"
"I'm sorry, Molly…"
"NO!" the woman sobbed falling to the floor.
A baby cried in the background.
The woman kept on sobbing. She started hitting the man she was talking to and throwing things on the floor, oblivious to the baby in the background.
"Molly…" the man said softly.
"NO! THEY ARE NOT DEAD!"
George had heard this story before, but he never remembered it. It happened very shortly after he and Fred was born.
George was reciting the tables again.
"George?" Fred croaked.
11 times 11 is 121
12 times 12 is 144
"George?" Fred said again.
"Yes?" George answered, trying not to remember his mother's sobbing. For some reason, he felt at fault for his uncles' deaths. He never heard his mother cry like that before. Not ever as helplessly as she did in that memory…
"George, if I don't make it…" Fred said quietly. His voice was very faint. He felt close to vomiting. "I…I just wanted to tell you---"
"Don't say it." George warned. "Don't. Don't think about that."
"I've never told you how much I appreciated having you as a brother. Don't tell anyone else, but you're my favorite brother. After Bill and Charlie and Ron of course."
"Shut up, Fred." George answered, trying to stop his heart from taking in those words. A small grin slid on his face, but he immediately erased it. He knew it was very dangerous to feel happy by the Dementors, it only made the pain worse when they came by…
"Yeah, well you tell me to shut up, but if we end up in here forever and I go crazy…"
"You're already mental enough."
"Well thanks, nice having you as a brother." Fred answered sourly.
"Fred?"
"What?"
"I'm going to say this once and you better not ask me to say it again. You know how vulnerable we are to the Dementors right now."
"What?"
"I love you, bro."
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. George looked around.
The Dementors were leaving! They were gliding over through the door separating another group of cells. It was like sunshine bursting through the windows. George breathed slowly, trying to focus his thoughts back to normal.
"Fred! George!" a redhaired, plump woman was running over to them.
"Mum?" George asked in surprise. He slowly climbed to his feet.
"Oh! Oh!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she impatiently waited for the guard to unlock the chamber doors. Mr. Weasley came in after her.
"Dad?" Fred asked, disbelieving his eyes. He had never been so glad to see his parents.
"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley threw her arms around Fred and kissed him all over his face. Then she went to embrace George in a rib-cracking hug. Mr. Weasley hugged his sons and looked over them. They were paler and their eyes were less cheerful. He was surprised to feel how cold they were.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said sadly. "It'll be over soon. You'll win the court hearing."
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"Do you have them?" a low voice demanded. The figure was clothed heavily in robes. A small fire off to the side fought helplessly to provide some light in the damp dungeon. All of the windows were drawn with curtains.
"Yes." The servant bowed his head. "The Aurors have been put away."
"Good." The voice barked. "It's about time you all do something useful. Are you any closer to finding the girl?"
"We've found her," the man bowed his head again. "But it'll take time for the spell to work."
"Well, I don't have much time, do I!"
"No, no. I'm sorry Master." The servant spoke apologetically. "It will be carried out, rest assured, I will---"
"Shut up and keep working on it! Don't bother me again until you have something good to report!"
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A/N: I've been feeling sort of iffy about this story. I haven't received many reviews for the last few chapters and it makes me ponder if the plot structure is too weak, the writing isn't good, etc. Please leave me a review if you like this story or if you find criticism. I found a funny poem written by JuicyJuice:
We fanfic authors don't get paid
Though our stories still get made
Here they are now, just for you
Your only job--leave a review
So leave a review please, it'll make my day!