Chapter 21 – Reading Between the Lines

The weeks since Hermione's birthday had passed in a blur. Ron and Hermione were officially a couple, and even the taunts of Draco Malfoy could not bring them down. All of Gryffindor Tower had sighed a collective "It's about time," as the news spread only as it could in Hogwarts. Harry had worried briefly how his friendship with Ron and Hermione may change now that they were together, but other than putting up with their sappy glances and whispered teasing, the trio's friendships did not falter. Harry had never seen his two friends so happy, and he wanted nothing more than for them to stay that way.

October had arrived with warm breezes and the vibrant colours that only autumn could bring. The students enjoyed the lingering warmth of summer whenever they could by slipping outside between classes and at lunch; the sun casting its healthy glow over them. However, the pleasant weather belied the state of the wizarding world beyond Hogwarts. As the attack on Tonks and Shacklebolt had indicated, the second war had indeed begun.

Harry, Ginny, and Ron sat in the Great Hall ignoring the breakfast dishes laid before them, hanging on to every word as Hermione read from the Daily Prophet:

Ministry Confirms Death Eater Attacks

The Ministry of Magic confirmed this morning that the attacks on three wizarding families in London were the work of the much-feared Death Eaters. Marley McGee, Jean and John Jensen, and Emmanuel Irmine were discovered in their homes by Ministry officials after neighbours reported seeing the Dark Mark over the families' houses. As of yet, no information has been uncovered to link these attacks.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, stated: "These attacks are random. There is no reason for the general public to panic. The Ministry has the situation under control and the perpetrators of these crimes will be brought to justice. While the nature of these crimes is unspeakable, I call on all wizarding families to maintain their faith in the Ministry, and in myself."

Funeral arrangements for the deceased will be announced in upcoming issues.

Hermione scoffed as she threw down the newspaper in disgust. "Maintain our faith in that useless waste of human flesh," she muttered angrily, "I'd rather eat Flobberworms than put my trust in him!"

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared morosely at the paper on the table in front of them. None of them were shocked by Hermione's outburst; they had become more and more frequent as reports of Death Eater attacks were splashed almost daily on the newspaper's front page.

Ginny shook her head. "I swear Fudge looks more and more incompetent each day. Who does he think he is, telling us not to worry about 'random' attacks? Honestly, I'd feel better if the attacks were connected in some way. Then at least we'd know who was in danger."

Ron frowned. "We're all in danger, Ginny."

Ginny matched her brother's frown. "Yeah, I know."

They sat quietly, taking in the new information. While they were used to reading about attacks, this was the first time there had been deaths since Harry's birthday.

Harry glanced at his friends, then said quietly, "I think Fudge is lying. I think these attacks are somehow connected, and for some reason Fudge feels that he needs to cover it up."

Hermione knitted her eyebrows as she stared at Harry. "What makes you say that, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure, but Fudge hates controversy. If the link between the attacks is questionable, it may show a weakness in the Ministry. Fudge worries about nothing more than making sure he looks good."

Ron snorted. "Poor job at that."

Ginny murmured in agreement while Hermione studied Harry. She pulled the newspaper towards herself again and scanned the article. A frown creased her forehead as she neared the bottom.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked, leaning over her shoulder to look at the paper.

Hermione frowned and ran her finger over a line in the article. "This part of Fudge's statement seems out of place: '…the nature of these crimes is unspeakable…' . First he says that there's no need to panic, but then he mentions that the nature of the crimes is unspeakable? Why would he even mention the nature of the crimes if he's trying to prevent panic?"

Ginny furrowed her brow. "It is odd. It's not very often that crimes are described as 'unspeakable'. Maybe 'heinous' or 'violent,' but not 'unspeakable.'"

"This is Fudge we're talking about," Ron commented. "It's not like he's the brightest torch in the dungeon."

Harry studied Ron thoughtfully. "Ron," Harry began, "remember last year when … well, before … when I first asked you about the Department of Mysteries?"

Ron frowned. "I think so. Why?"

"What did you say the people that worked there were called?"

Hermione, Ron and Ginny answered together. "Unspeakables."

They stared at each other in silence.

"Do you think the people attacked were Unspeakables, Harry?" Ginny whispered.

Harry frowned. "It is a strange coincidence."

Hermione nodded. "That would make sense. Fudge would definitely need to keep that quiet. After what happened last spring in the Department of Mysteries, the press would have a field day if the Department was the target of Death Eater activity again."

Ron stared at Harry and asked quietly, "Do you think You-Know-Who's still after the prophecy?"

Harry swallowed hard. The conversation had just taken a turn he did not want to follow.

"Voldemort knows that the prophecy was destroyed, Ron," Hermione replied, "but maybe there's something else in there that he wants."

"Or someone," Ginny said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Ginny glanced apprehensively at Harry, then replied, "Well, somebody must sort and label the prophecies in that room. Maybe Voldemort is trying to track down the person that labeled Harry's prophecy in hopes of finding out the contents."

Hermione's eyes widened as she turned her gaze to Harry. "Harry, maybe there's still a way for you to find out about the prophecy yourself," Hermione said excitedly.

"Why would he want to do that?" Ron asked. "So You-Know-Who will have another reason to come after Harry?"

"But if Harry knew what the prophecy said, he would have the upper hand," Hermione argued.

Harry sat quietly, becoming more and more uncomfortable. He knew he would eventually share the prophecy with his friends, but the timing did not feel right. He watched as Hermione and Ron bickered about him, slightly amused that they continued their squabbles even after they had begun dating.

"Will you two please stop?" Ginny said, holding her hand on her forehead. "I can't handle your little love battles this early in the morning."

Harry chuckled as Hermione's mouth open and closed, unable to retort, and Ron's ears burned red. Ginny glanced at Harry and winked. Harry nodded a silent thank you in her direction.

Ron recuperated quickly, however, and turned to Ginny. "Speaking of 'love', where's Dean?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, although unable to disguise the flush in her cheeks. "Unlike the two of you, we don't need to spend every waking minute together."

Ron's cheeks flushed, but he continued unfazed, "Don't people generally want to spend time with their significant others?"

Ginny glared at Ron. "I didn't say I didn't want to spend time with him, I just said we don't feel the need to spend all of our time together."

Ron's eyes narrowed as his train of thought shifted. "He's not doing anything to hurt you, is he?"

Ginny sighed. "No, Ron. Everything's fine. Not every couple is like you and Hermione. Look at Harry. I don't see Parvati anywhere."

Harry felt his cheeks flush as he was thrown unwillingly into the centre of their argument. Harry flashed Ginny a glare, but felt his face soften as he met her apologetic eyes. She was looking at him pleadingly, her brown eyes round and her top teeth nibbling her lower lip. Harry sighed, wondering silently how he could never stay mad at Ginny.

As if on cue, Parvati and Dean walked into the Great Hall, along with Seamus, Lavender and Neville. They were all talking excitedly as they sat down around the others.

"Did you guys see the notice board before you left the common room?" Dean asked Ron and Harry.

They shook their heads.

"It's the first Hogsmeade weekend," Parvati said, smiling at Harry as she took his hand in hers.

Harry took in Parvati's hopeful gaze, realizing that Hogsmeade trips were basically the only opportunities for actual 'dates' at Hogwarts.

"I reckon we should go together, yeah?" Harry asked Parvati.

Parvati's smile widened as she squeezed Harry's hand. "Of course," she replied, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "I was hoping we could spend some time together. Alone."

Harry forced a smile on his face, hoping his discomfort wasn't showing through. "What did you have in mind?" Harry asked.

Parvati shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "I'll work it all out, don't worry."

Harry cocked his brow at her, but then shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, then."

Parvati glanced at Lavender, and then they each fell into a fit of giggles. Harry had given up trying to figure out the source of their behaviour long ago. Instead, he turned his attention to Ron.

"What's the plan for Quidditch practice today, Captain?" Harry asked.

Ron's face lit up as he dove excitedly into the plays he hoped to go over with the team. Harry listened attentively, much preferring this conversation than to talks of prophecies or Hogsmeade visits with giggling girls.

The worst thing about Mondays, was not the fact that they marked the beginning of a long, work-filled week, or the fact that the professors all seemed to have met secretly and decided that Mondays were the perfect days to load on the homework. The worst thing about Mondays could be simplified into two words as far as Harry was concerned: Double Potions.

Harry dragged his feet as he trudged along with this fellow Gryffindor sixth years to the dungeons. Their excitement from the Hogsmeade notice had quickly been squelched by the piles of homework they had been given so far. The school day ended with Double Potions, and everyone knew their spirits would only be squashed further.

Harry entered the Potions classroom and threw his bag beside his desk and slouched into his chair. Parvati slid in beside him, looking as though she felt as equally dejected as he did.

"Rough day," Harry said.

Parvati sighed and nodded. "If it's like this already in sixth year, I can't imagine what next year will be like."

Harry groaned. "I don't even want to think about it."

Parvati nodded and patted Harry's knee. "Well, let's not think on it then."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Agreed."

"So, do you want to get together tonight to get a start on some of this homework?" Parvati asked.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it's Monday, so that means – "

"Quidditch practice and battle training," Parvati finished. She stared at the desk top. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Harry studied Parvati. Things had improved slightly since their argument on Hermione's birthday. They had talked the next day and Parvati had told Harry that she was sorry for the way she had been acting, but that all she wanted was some attention. Harry had apologized for his busy schedule, but also stated that Ron and Hermione were very important to him, and he would always do whatever he could to help them. Harry and Parvati had both agreed to be more understanding, and they had been true to their words.

"Want to come watch Quidditch practice?" Harry asked.

Parvati shook her head. "Lavender and I are going to visit Professor Trelawney. It's been ages since we've seen her and I'd hate to cancel."

Harry nodded his head while inwardly grimacing. He wasn't sure what to think about Professor Trelawney anymore. He had sided with Hermione for the majority of his years at Hogwarts, believing Trelawney to be a fraud. But, knowing that Trelawney had been the messenger of the prophecy concerning his fate with Voldemort, he no longer knew what to think. Either way, Trelawney always made him uncomfortable.

"I'll see you tonight, then," Harry said, squeezing her hand that was still resting on his knee.

Parvati smiled weakly. "After your training."

"Potter. Patil. Please keep you hands to yourself," Snape snarled as he strode to the front of the classroom.

Harry felt his cheeks burn as he let go of Parvati's hand and glared at Snape. Malfoy could be heard sniggering at the front of the classroom.

"And, while I've got your attention, Potter," Snape sneered down his long nose, "I've just come from the Headmaster's office. He asked me to inform you that you will not be attending Hogsmeade this weekend."

"What?" Harry blurted, his eyes popping open.

"Manners, Potter," Snape chastised silkily.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Did you just say that I'm not allowed to go to Hogsmeade, sir?"

Snape smirked. "I always knew you were more dense than a cauldron bottom, Potter, but do you honestly need me to repeat myself in front of the entire class?"

Harry felt anger rush through him as he quickly glanced around the classroom. All eyes were on him, entranced by yet another feud between Harry and Snape. Harry's eyes landed on Malfoy. Harry had expected to see a smirk on Malfoy's face, but instead saw a look of interest and … contemplation? Harry's eyes snapped back to Snape.

"Did Professor Dumbledore say why, sir?" Harry asked between his clenched teeth.

Snape glared at Harry and snapped, "I am simply relaying the message, Potter. I do not presume to question the Headmaster or his decisions. I refuse to waste any more of my class time discussing your pathetic social circumstances."

Harry clenched his fists on the top of his desk as Snape began to drone on about today's lesson. He was furious that his Hogsmeade privileges had been revoked, and even more furious that Snape had made such a public display of it.

Harry's silent fumings were interrupted by the scraping of chairs around him. Harry glanced at the blackboard and saw Snape's written instructions flash across it.

Parvati lifted her cauldron onto her desk and turned to Harry. "Do you think Snape was serious?" she whispered.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

Harry walked to the front of the classroom to pick up his ingredients. Malfoy stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry growled.

Malfoy smirked and spoke to Harry, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Precious Potter not going to Hogsmeade. Dumbledore's keeping his prized boy in the castle. How very interesting."

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. Something in Malfoy's tone and demeanor was very unsettling for Harry, almost as though Malfoy knew something that Harry didn't.

Harry resorted to their usual banter. "How's dear old dad, Malfoy?"

Rather than scowling, Malfoy smiled broadly. "He's doing quite well, Potter," Draco continued, his voice low. He raised an eyebrow as he continued, "It was just last night that he was telling me how Azkaban's been such a freeing experience for him."

Harry's heart stopped as he stared at Malfoy's smirking face. Harry turned on his heel and walked straight to Ron.

"I need a Skiving Snackbox," Harry hissed in Ron's ear.

Ron looked at Harry, concerned. "What is it, mate?"

Harry shook his head. "Not now. Have you got any on you?"

Ron nodded and reached into his pocket. He slipped a small two-piece candy into Harry's hand.

"You carry those around with you?" Hermione hissed from behind Ron.

Ron turned around. "I've started to, yeah."

Hermione looked scandalized. "You're a prefect!" she hissed.

Ron shrugged and grinned at her sheepishly, causing her to flush.

"You're incorrigible!" she muttered as a smile crinkled the corner of her lips.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said as he strode back to the front of the class towards the ingredients again. Harry popped one half of the candy into his mouth. Ron hadn't said which kind it was, but Harry was pretty sure he recognized the colour.

Harry ignored Malfoy's sniggering as he passed Malfoy's desk. Harry took his time picking up his ingredients. He began to feel a burning at the back of his throat, and knew he had been right – he had just taken a Puking Pastille.

Harry loaded the ingredients into his arms, and began his journey back to his desk. To Harry's delight, Malfoy decided to block Harry's path again.

"Watch where you're going, Potty. I'd hate for you to drop anything," Malfoy sneered, elbowing Harry in the arm in an attempt to jostle the pile of ingredients stacked precariously in Harry's arms. The elbow was perfectly timed, as far as Harry was concerned, for in the next second, Harry vomited spectacularly over Malfoy's robes.

"Argh!" Malfoy exclaimed as he stared down in disgust at his spoiled robes. Harry would have laughed out loud if he hadn't felt the continued tossing of bile in his stomach. Malfoy's face was flushed in anger as his eyes glinted dangerously at Harry.

"You'll pay, Potter!" Malfoy snapped, shoving Harry away from him.

The ingredients in Harry's arms crashed to the floor as Harry stumbled into Malfoy's desk. As Harry's hands grabbed the edge of the desk to stabilize himself, he vomited in a perfect arc, directly into Malfoy's cauldron; Malfoy's potion was ruined.

"Professor!" Malfoy cried, his voice high and shrill. "Potter's ruined my potion!"

Snape swept over to Malfoy's desk and looked down his long nose at the mess on Malfoy's robes and then peered into Malfoy's cauldron.

"Explain yourself, Potter!" Snape spat.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but immediately snapped it shut. Neither Fred nor George had ever said how truly sick the Puking Pastilles made you feel. The other half of the candy was in Harry's pocket, but he could hardly take it with Malfoy and Snape examining his every move. Harry's eyes burned as he willed himself not to puke again. He was unsuccessful. He puked all over the top of Malfoy's desk, ruining Malfoy's remaining ingredient, scrolls of parchment, and silver-plated quill.

"Professor!" Malfoy cried.

Snape eyed Harry curiously through narrowed eyes. "Get out of my classroom, Potter."

Harry nodded and rushed out of the classroom, hearing Malfoy protesting behind him. Harry rushed down the corridor, slightly amazed that he got away so easily. He distanced himself from Snape's dungeon before popping the other half of the candy into his mouth. The burning at the back of his throat and twisting of his stomach came to an abrupt stop. Harry marveled at the genius that was Fred and George.

Harry raced down the corridors towards Dumbledore's office. He stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Puking Pastilles?" Harry said hesitantly, hoping Dumbledore hadn't changed the password since the start of the school year. Apparently, he had. The gargoyle remained unmoved. The irony would have been too much anyway.

"Fizzing Whizbees. Chocolate Frogs. Sherbet Lemon. Sugar Quills. Laughing Lollies. Strawberry Popps."

The gargoyle was motionless, appearing to stare at Harry haughtily.

Harry racked his brain frantically. Harry cocked his head as an idea struck him – the twins had provided inspiration earlier.

"Fainting Fancies? Rampaging Rashes?"

The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the spiraling staircase to Dumbledore's office.

Harry rushed forward and tapped his fingers impatiently on the handrail as the staircase spiraled slowly upwards. Harry jumped up the final steps and knocked soundly on the large oak door. The door swung open to reveal a very grim-looking Professor McGonagall. Beyond her, Harry could see Dumbledore seated at his desk.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, if this has to do with your Hogsmeade trip, I'm certain our discussion can wait until after your Potions class."

Harry stepped into the office, shaking his head. "No, Professor. This has to do with Lucius Malfoy getting out of Azkaban."

Dumbledore's eyes darted briefly to Professor McGonagall before returning to Harry.

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore replied tiredly.

Harry stepped forward, ignoring the chair that Dumbledore had indicated. "So, it's true, then," Harry said quietly, feeling a churning in his stomach that had nothing to do with Skiving Snackboxes.

"Please, Harry. Sit down," Dumbledore insisted.

Harry obliged, sitting on the edgeof the seat. McGonagall sat in the seat beside him.

"What have you heard, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes piercing Harry's.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "It was something Draco said to me."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "What did Mr. Malfoy say?"

Harry scowled. "We were having one of our … er… discussions, and I asked him how his dad was doing. He said his dad was doing well and how last night his dad had been telling him how Azkaban had been a 'freeing' experience. The way he said it, I just felt something was wrong."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes continuing to pierce Harry's. "Draco said he spoke to his father last night?"

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore looked at McGonagall. "Minerva?"

"Of course, Albus. I'll get right on it," McGonagall replied, standing up swiftly and exiting Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of him as he peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.

"Are they all out, Professor?" Harry asked quietly.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so, Harry. Azkaban is completely empty."

Harry swallowed hard. "So, then, all the Death Eaters you captured last year … in the Department of Mysteries … they're all …" Harry felt his throat constrict as the idea overwhelmed him.

"Yes. They have all escaped. They are all out there," Dumbledore said solemnly, waving his hand toward the world that lay outside Hogwarts.

Harry felt sick. Not only had the war begun, but Voldemort had managed to get all of his supporters back in his ranks.

"That's why I can't go to Hogsmeade, then," Harry said dully, his earlier anger seeming so frivolous in light of this more recent news.

"Yes, Harry. And I apologize for the nature of Snape's message. I thought it best for your confinement to the castle to be public knowledge so that the news will travel. From what you've just told me, I am certain that the news will reach the Death Eaters themselves. The trip to Hogsmeade will be safer for the other students if the temptation of capturing you is not there."

Harry scowled. "I'm glad to help," he said sarcastically.

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "It is unfair, Harry. You have every right to feel cheated."

Harry slouched in his chair. "I feel used."

They sat in strained silence. Harry was tired of being used in one way or another to direct, or in this case misdirect, Death Eater activities. He was tired of his life being altered to protect the fun and enjoyment of others. He was tired of being forced to sit quietly like a good boy while the grown-ups all around him decided the best way for him to live his life, until they thought it was time for him to save their lives. He was tired of it all.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your Potions class, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry raised his eyes to Dumbledore. The old man sat behind his desk, staring solemnly at Harry. Harry did not feel anger towards the man as he thought he might. Rather, he felt frustration and disappointment.

"Of course, Professor."

Harry rose and walked slowly to the door.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry paused and turned to look at his Headmaster and mentor. He nodded at Dumbledore and replied, "I know." He turned on his heel and left Dumbledore's office with a heavy heart and a clouded mind.