Chapter 9 – Saying what you want to hear.
Harry took another look at Draco Malfoy, the badly beaten Draco Malfoy, his mind in turmoil.
He had saved Malfoy.
What if it was a trap? He was a wannabe Death Eater, if his behavior in the recent past was any indication.
Harry distanced himself from the body, one hand clutching the pommel of Mac's sword while his other held his wand at the ready. Looking everywhere at once, waiting for an attack, he failed to take notice of his family ring glowing a pale shade of red.
After a few moments, noticing that no one had followed them, he relaxed just enough to escape the fight or flight mindset.
Now he was able to stop and evaluate the situation. He was in his home, which, aside from the furniture, was apparently deserted, he had someone who was severely injured with him and he had no idea where the manor was located or how to leave the place.
Thank Merlin, the place was at least clean, they could have landed in almost sixteen years of dust.
Wait a minute, clean?
Acting on a gamble, he called. "Is there someone there?"
A familiar pop was heard, and an old-looking house elf appeared, a female by the looks of it.
"Master James, you back?" the elf asked, teary eyed.
"No, I'm not James, I'm his son, Harry," the young wizard replied with a smile.
"Young Master? You returned? Misty is so happy to see Young Master Harry," the elf said, bouncing up and down with glee. "Master has returned to stay?" she asked, hopeful.
Harry had so much to ask the old elf, but his friends were right in the middle of a fight.
"More or less, Misty. I've returned, yes, but I can't stay right now. I need you to do two things for me."
Misty nodded excitedly, happy to be of service again after so long. "Anything, Young Master, anything."
"Ok, first I need you to take him," he said, pointing to an unconscious Draco, "to St. Mungo's. Can you do it? You know where it is?"
"Yes, Young Master, Misty can. Misty took Master James several times there when Master James was Misty-size."
"Good. Now, I need to get back to Diagon Alley. Is there a fireplace nearby?"
The elf smiled. "Something better, something Mistress Lily did, Mistress hated ash travel. Come, Misty shows."
"We can't leave Draco like this," Harry said. He might hate the git, but he didn't save him by risking his own neck just to see him die.
Misty waved her hands and Draco was enveloped in a yellow light. "Boy frozen. Not good for long, but enough. Go now, Misty shows."
"Thank you, Misty."
The old elf lady smiled, and they ran down a long corridor. They finally stopped at a set of double doors, which Misty opened with her magic. The room behind was fairly large, and by being bare of everything, furniture, paintings and the like, it seemed even larger. Several runes were carved along the edge of a circle, covering most of the available stony ground.
"Step inside the circle, Master, and say where Master wants to go, then Master goes," Misty said, pointing to the circle.
"Thank you, Misty. Now, take him to St. Mungo's and let the healers take care of him, but protect him and once they finish come back here, okay?"
"Yes, Young Master, Misty takes good care of Young Master's friend."
Harry couldn't waste time explaining his relationship with the Malfoys. "Good, I'll be back as soon as I can," Harry replied instead while entering the circle.
"Good luck, Master Harry."
"Thank you," he said, sword and wand at readiness. He would have to end up close to the battle, but he couldn't appear in the middle of the crossfire. "Let's see if mum was really good with her rune magic. Flourish and Blotts," he intoned clearly. The runes glowed briefly and the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared without a sound.
He wasn't immediately transported; the room simply took a grayish tone, as if he was in a black and white picture. Misty was frozen, but Harry noticed it was part of whatever spell he had activated, and he also noticed that the air was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of very thin silver strands flowing gently on an imperceptive ethereal wind, every one of them seemingly starting where he was standing.
Harry also noticed that one of them glowed brighter than the rest. Deciding to make a small test, he touched a non-glowing one with a fingertip. Instantly, in his mind's eye, he saw another place, a room of some sort which he didn't recognize, and he felt a small pulling sensation at his back. He realized that if he'd let the pull take him, he would be transported to the room. Smiling, he touched the glowing one.
Immediately, he saw the interior of the bookstore, which was apparently empty and whole. Letting himself be caught by the pull, he felt as if he was sliding over a very slippery surface at an incredible speed.
The sensation of being pulled finally came to an end and Harry found himself in the same grayish-looking space, the major difference being he was now standing in the well-known interior of the bookstore.
Using the same technique as if he was canceling a spell with his mind, he saw a part of the grayish space regain color, as if a doorway was opening.
No one was present to see The-Boy-Who-Lived appear from thin air, ready to fight, wand in one hand and a bloodied sword on the other.
Harry hid behind a bookcase, trying to hear something outside. It was awfully quiet, it meant that either the battle was over, or that his mother had done something wrong and now he was stuck somewhere that looked like Diagon Alley but wasn't.
Deciding to trust his deceased mother, he got out from behind the bookcase and walked to the front door, crouched.
Risking a quick glance outside, he saw Hermione and Mac arguing with a lot of hand movements and pointing with an apparently nervous Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Harry relaxed and stored his wand back in his bloodstained pants' pocket, but within easy reach. With one hand now freed, he opened the front door and walked to the sunny outside.
Hermione was the first one to notice him, and she bolted like a missile in his direction. Harry heard the black Senior Auror scream several times "Don't shoot" up and down the street, which he noticed, was crammed with the magical police officers.
His best friend ignored his bloodstained clothes and grabbed him as if it was the last thing she'd ever do.
"I hate you sometimes," she mumbled into his neck.
"Why?" Harry asked, smirking.
"You'll be giving me white hairs before my time. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, none of this blood is mine. I'll explain it all in a bit."
"And I would like very much to hear it, Mr. Potter," Shacklebolt said sternly. Soon, all of his friends were surrounding him, demanding explanations.
"Can we go to Fortescue? I still haven't eaten breakfast," Harry asked politely.
The Senior Auror looked around, checking his own personnel and eventually agreed. They started walking, and Harry handed the sword back to Mac with a smile.
"Thanks," he said to his teacher.
"Don't think you got away scot-free, there's a lot of yelling to be done, but I can wait my turn," she said, smirking. Harry blanched. "Don't worry much, it was stupid, but very brave and it worked. So, I'll go easy on you."
Harry smiled slightly with the somewhat awkward praise. The entire group walked into the shop, Shacklebolt going to talk with Mr. Fortescue, who was clearly shivering.
After a brief exchange of words between them, a glance and a smile by Mr. Fortescue in Harry's direction, the group was quickly seated.
Harry looked to his cousin first thing. The young man looked scared, but not much more than the rest of them.
"You all right, Dudley?"
"More or less. It was scary, I'll say, but I did hide as you've told me, and it ended pretty quickly. Besides, there were people even more scared than I was, so I don't feel so bad. But if you don't mind, I'd like to go back home after breakfast."
The young wizard nodded, at least happy that none of his friends were apparently hurt. The Auror finally cast a silencing charm around the table after they were seated and the orders had been placed.
"Now, Harry, care to tell me what happened?" the black man asked.
And the Gryffindor Seeker gave him a brief resume of their morning, the visit to Gringotts and their intention to come to the parlor to eat some breakfast. Then the multiple apparition of the Eaters and how Harry had spotted the hostage. Kingsley stopped the narrative to ask a few questions.
"Who was the hostage?"
"Malfoy," Harry said with a hint of disgust, surprising Hermione.
"Senior?" the Auror asked with a raised eyebrow.
"What do you mean Se... ," Harry muted and blanched, connecting the dots.
"They escaped?" Hermione asked, voicing his fears.
Shacklebolt nodded sadly. "Last night. We lost seventeen of our own in the raid, all Kissed."
Harry slammed his hand on the table, hard enough to make the cutlery jump. His face was hard and angry. "What is Fudge doing?"
"Covering it up, he doesn't want to start a panic," the Auror growled.
"That's stupid, people need to know, they need to be..." Hermione started to rant. Kingsley held her arm lightly, making her stop.
"I know and I agree with you, but we have our hands tied, he promised to sack the first one who spoke about it."
Hermione turned even redder than Harry was.
"What about Madam Bones? I know her enough to see that she wouldn't let Fudge go ahead with this rubbish," Imogen asked.
"She's still at St. Mungo's. She's okay for now, but the healers wanted to keep her for another day."
"What happened with her?" Harry asked, remembering the strong woman who was also the aunt of his friend Susan.
"She lost her lower right arm during the attack. Thanks to you, they got away with their lives," the black man said, showing perfect white teeth.
"What do you mean 'thanks to me'?"
"Ms. Bones was yelling for whoever wanted to hear that she and her aunt were only alive because of some help you gave her in Defense last term."
Harry took another page from one of his friends' books and started banging his head on the table, hard. Hermione followed not a second behind.
"'Teach us, o Great Harry. We need you, o Great Savior!' Thanks loads, Mione," the wizard replied, sarcastically.
"Hey, don't go blaming me. Besides, they are alive, I believe, thanks to your training, otherwise we might be going to a funeral to cry the murder of a friend," the witch said.
"Okay, all right, but at least give me some good news and tell me that Skeeter was covering penguin migrations in Antarctica?" Harry asked, stopping the head banging for a moment.
"Sorry, Harry, she arrived at the hospital even before I did," Shacklebolt said with a grimace.
"She wouldn't dare!" Hermione said, the glass of water in front of her exploding with the bout of uncontrolled magic. "Sorry about that," she said, going Weasley-red instantly.
"No problem," said Remus after a quick drying spell.
"It wouldn't last forever, Mione, we both knew that," the Boy-Who-Lived said.
"What wouldn't?" the Auror inquired.
"We have some blackmailing material on that lying hag, but we knew it wouldn't hold that quill for long," the girl answered.
"Blackmail?" more than one voice asked.
"Doesn't matter right now," she replied, while her best friend kept on banging his head. "Stop that, Harry, you'll end up with a headache."
"Already have one," he mumbled.
"Color me stupid, but can someone explain what the sodding hell you're all talking about?" Dudley asked.
They explained briefly about who Rita Skeeter was and what she had done in the past to both Harry and Hermione.
"Can't you do something about it, Immie? I gather this is something they can be sued about, if all that they said are lies," Dudley pointed out.
If anyone had seen the light blinking inside the lawyer's head, no one bothered to mention. She turned to Len, sitting right at her side, whispering something to him for a few moments. Remus was straining to hear it, only getting some parts, but what he did hear was enough to make him smile internally.
Len nodded and turned to Harry, who was now paying attention to them.
"Harry, Imogen here gave me a wonderful idea, but to fulfill it, I'll need to be legally constituted as your adviser. I can have the contract ready by tomorrow morning, if you wish."
"Sure, but what is this about?" he asked, eyeing the duo.
"Your cousin here gave me a wonderful idea. Let's just say that you'll have some interesting early birthday gifts," his lawyer answered mysteriously. "You'll need me or the contract to start it?" she turned to Len.
"Nay, and to be honest I'll start right now. You'll need me for something, Auror Shacklebolt?"
"Did you see anything different than the rest of them?"
"Nay, to be honest I saw even less, I was too far behind," Len replied.
"Then go ahead, but I'd like you to go to the Ministry to sign a statement," the black man said.
"Saying I didn't see a thing? Isn't that a bit counterproductive?" the Scotsman asked.
"Orders from Fudge, we have to go over this one with a skipascope," he tried.
"Microscope," both Harry and Hermione replied at the same time. Shacklebolt looked to them, puzzled. "Never mind," they said together, and laughed.
Len sighed, nodded, shook Harry's hand, excused himself and left.
"Now, could we go back to answering questions?" Kingsley asked the table.
"Sure, where did I stop?" Harry asked and Remus answered for him.
The Gryffindor student backtracked a bit and retold part of the story, lying about his family's ring and where he ended up. Since only Mac knew how he had done it, and she was bound by her oath, he decided to go over a different tactic.
"So, let me see if I have this straight. Your lawyer here has given you a permanent portkey to a safe house, per you own request. You used it to jump with Malfoy Jr. to this safe house, where you met the house elf responsible for the house's safekeeping, asked her to transport Malfoy to the Hospital while you came back here, correct?"
"Yes," Harry said, poker-faced. It was more or less true, from a certain point of view.
"How did you come back?" the Auror asked.
"She made a brief stop here with only me before going back to the house and Malfoy," Harry lied.
Shacklebolt looked pensive for a few moments, trying to find some holes in his story. "You wouldn't mind telling me where this safe house is, Harry?"
"Sorry, Kingsley, but I wish some things to remain private, only I know where it is since Imogen was obliviated of the address. But does it matter so much to the investigation?" Harry asked, knowing that the Auror was just asking to report to Dumbledore. He really wouldn't like Dumbledore to know he had a way to escape his clutches.
"No, it doesn't," Kingsley said, face neutral. "So, let's go over it once again to see if we missed anything."
Harry retold the entire story again, and by sticking close to a version of truth, he had no problems with the Auror.
"What I don't understand is how Ms. Xavier here knew exactly what you would do," the black man pointed.
The young wizard sighed. He knew that Dumbledore would know the moment Shacklebolt left, but some small concessions had to be made. Besides, he would find out, eventually.
"I hired her as my Occlumens teacher, and she read the plan from my mind, that's how," he said, slightly irritated in having to reveal the information.
Kingsley's eyebrows rose to a non-existent hairline.
"That's good, Harry," he lied smoothly. "Now, Ms. Xavier, are you aware…" the man started, but before he could get on a roll, Mac slapped a small plastic card right in front of him. It was charmed to look like a Muggle's driver license, but when the Auror grabbed it, it changed to an identification of the witch as a Master Occlumens and Legimiens, as recognized by the International Occlumency and Legilimency Committee.
"Yes, I'm aware, Auror, and we are already bound by the Apprenticeship contract, as stipulated by law. Does this answer your questions?" Mac said.
The man handed the identification card back to her. "It does, Ms. Xavier. Sorry if I sounded rude, Harry here is too important," he said, slipping slightly.
"To the Interfering Headmaster or to the Homicidal Madman?" she asked with a sneer.
"To everyone. He's the Boy-Who-Lived, after all," he said, slightly flustered.
"No, you twit. He's Harry. A kid with a world of scared people hanging to his back," the woman replied, hotly. "Now, do you have anything else to ask that doesn't involve the official investigation or you report to Dumby?"
Shacklebolt restrained himself from lashing out. He had to remain cool; he was here in an official capacity. He asked a few more questions to all the involved parties, and was able to form a coherent image of everything that happened at the Alley.
"Now, what happened after I departed?" Harry asked, as soon as the questioning ended.
"Apparently the Death Eaters, having being robbed of Malfoy for whatever intent and purposes they had, decided to flee instead of facing us, but they left their fallen comrades behind. We have six men in holding cells at the Ministry, ready to go over questioning. And a hand, still holding a wand, which doesn't belong to any of them," the member of the Order said.
"Doesn't the Auror who struck him knows who he is?" Harry asked.
"Struck? Harry, none of us managed to throw a single spell," the Senior Auror pointed.
"Well, one of your Aurors cut one of the Death Eater's arm, he was almost casting a killing curse at me," Harry pointed. "Besides, who said it was a spell? I had the glimpse of something small, metallic and black. Never saw the arm or anything else, though," he said, pensive. He didn't notice Mac's eyes hovering around the room and fixing at a single point near the front door.
"No one was using a sword or something of the genre today, Harry. You sure?"
"Absolutely. Whoever it was, he or she saved my life," the Gryffindor said.
"I'll have to check it again. Wonder if anyone else saw anything," he sighed. "Does anyone have any idea what they wanted with Malfoy?"
Hermione scrunched her eyes, mind deep in thought.
"You said Malfoy was beaten, right?" she asked to his best friend, and he confirmed it with a nod. "Question is, why?"
"To hurt him?" Harry stated.
"That is obvious, Harry. But why go and do it physically when an Unforgivable has the same effects?"
"Excuse me, but what is an Unforgivable?" Dudley asked.
Hermione took the responsibility of answering and explained about the three curses, the young muggle understanding it, more or less, and offered his own comment.
"So, you mean they are able to cause pain without leaving a mark on the person who suffered it?"
"Correct. And, from what Harry said to us, it is pretty effective," Hermione said to Harry's cousin.
"You suffered it?" Dudley asked, eyes wide looking to his cousin.
"A few times, now," he replied evenly.
Dudley shut up for a few moments, deeply surprised. The Auror spoke again. "Then why did they beat Malfoy?"
"I have a few theories," Hermione said, taking a breath to start. "One, Malfoy was part of a trap and perhaps Harry sprung it too early, or not at all," she said, pointing to him.
"Trap? For me?" Harry asked.
"I don't know for sure, but I don't think so. You've spent too little time in the Alley for them to plan something. Besides, Voldemort doesn't strike me as someone who doesn't plan things through."
Shacklebolt and Harry both nodded. "Me too, he's the Heir of Slytherin, it's in his blood to be cunning and he's too smart to be caught unprepared. What else you've got?" the Auror asked, curious by her logic. She would make one fine investigator if she decided to pursue the Auror's path after Hogwarts.
"A show of force," she replied.
"There are better ways to do that than beating a young man, Ms. Granger," he pointed.
"Perhaps, and perhaps not, but it depends on the message they want to send. A pureblood heir, whose father is a well-known Death Eater, is spanked until near death. What does this tell people?"
"That no one is safe?" Harry quipped.
"No, I don't think so. Hurting a pureblood purposefully would make the rest of the families question Voldemort's ideals and drive. What else remains?"
"Only thing I can think off right now is that Malfoy did something to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or one of his associates and he decided to enact some punishment," Shacklebolt said.
"But why go the muggle way about it? It is too low a punch for Voldemort's fabled superiority, isn't it?" Hermione asked, clearly in doubt of her own logic so far.
"I don't know. Perhaps only Mr. Malfoy can give us those answers, if he knows them. For now, I have to ask a few more questions around. I'll try to keep your name out of most of the reports or downplay your participation to a minimum, but I believe this will be nearly impossible with so many witnesses," he said to Harry.
"Thank you anyway, Auror Shacklebolt," Harry said, appreciating the gesture.
"If you need or remember anything, don't hesitate to call me or one of the Order members, okay?"
"Sure," Harry replied.
"I have to go, I need to interview half the Wizarding World, which decided to go shopping at the Alley outside today," the black man said, standing up. "I'll need everyone here to sign their own statements after I've had all the paperwork ready. I'll let Harry know when that will be. Ladies, Gentlemen," he said, and walked away.
As soon as the Auror was out of sight, every single head at the table turned to Harry. The wizard squirmed on his chair, having nowhere to go.
Imogen started. "You lied to him, and worse, you made me lie to him. Why?" she asked, calmly.
"Immie, I've told you my plans. Not all of them, because I honestly didn't know how to put them into motion and some things I still don't trust you enough to tell. Sorry about it, but that's how life is for me right now. I can count on my fingers and use only one hand the people I trust one hundred percent, and one of them is sitting right at my side."
Hermione blushed while Remus looked even more hurt.
"Moony, I trust you as well, but I trust you as a man trusts a parent, and that means that I'll always love you, but some things you can't know, otherwise you'll try to interfere and I can't have that. Not right now, at least. But I will tell you, eventually."
"I wish you could trust me more, Harry, and that we wouldn't need to have secrets between us," Remus said.
"I do, Remus, more than you could possibly imagine, and that's why I can't tell. Not now," he said, his heart breaking with the last Marauder's look.
"So, how do I figure in this equation?" Mac asked.
"You know, Mac, because you need to know and you're bound by a wizard's oath, that's why. Look, let's not turn this into a 'Who Harry Trusts?' game, all right? I trust each and every one of you more or less the same, and that's why I'm sitting here explaining this all to you."
"So, what we are supposed to do, nod our heads while you lie to whomever you want, including the law? Remember your little joke when we met, Harry? That's not how I conduct my job," Imogen said, her eyes a stormy grey.
"Who said I lied?" he asked with a smirk.
"I've never provided you with a permanent portkey or a safe house," she pointed.
"Yes, you did. Unknowingly and by proxy, but you did. Ever seen this ring, Remus?" Harry asked the werewolf, showing him the ring.
Recognition dawned on the man. "T-that i-is..."
"My father's ring? Yes, it is. And it is also..."
"A portkey to Potter's Manor," the Marauder said, surprised. "I thought it lost after your father died."
"It was in my family's vault with a letter from Mum explaining what it was. That's why I didn't lie, Immie. It was all true, from a certain point of view," he said, smiling.
"You should go into politics, Harry," Immie laughed.
"Thank you, but no thanks," he said with a smile.
"Okay, so you didn't lie exactly, but why didn't you tell the whole truth?" Hermione asked.
"This, Mione, I'll explain with the rest later on, trust me, when we're in some place without so many ears," Harry said. "Now, let's eat, I'm starving."
After they all were filled to the brim, Dudley included, the entire group walked out, Harry looking around, hands fingering the wand resting in his pants' pocket. The Alley was surprisingly clear of people, the only wizards in sight the robed Aurors and someone who made Harry promptly groan.
"Ah, bugger," Harry said, instantly thinking about casting a concealment charm on himself, but it was already too late, she had seen him.
"Harry, langu...ah, bugger," Hermione said, but instead of groaning, she growled. Rita Skeeter was approaching them, her face as happy as if she had won the wizard equivalent of the Pulitzer.
"I'll deal with her," Imogen said, walking to the front of the group.
"No, I have an idea," Harry said, holding his lawyer's arm for a moment. Immie turned to him and nodded, but stayed close.
The change in Skeeter's demeanor was clear, the predatorial smile she was wearing enough to make Harry shiver slightly.
"Hello, Harry dear," the reporter said, the fake cheerfulness clear to all who knew her.
"Hello, Rita," he said, and faster than the eye could follow, his hand snapped and grabbed the green Quick Notes Quill flowing behind the reporter. Compared to a snitch, the thing wasn't even moving. "Now, you had something you want to ask?"
"My quill," the woman started, but stopped as soon as she saw the look in Imogen's face.
"Don't worry, it will be returned when this interview ends. It's not that I don't trust you, but your quill seems to be malfunctioning every time we speak to each other," he said sweetly, sounding so much like a Slytherin that it surprised every one of his friends.
"And how am I supposed to take notes?" the reporter asked, and a normal quill was shoved right below her nose, courtesy of the lawyer. "Thanks, Imogen," Rita said with another fake smile.
"Let's cut the Slytherin approach, Skeeter. I'm only going to give you a warning: you can ask my client anything you want and he may answer anything he likes, but if I see a single letter out of place in tomorrow's paper, let's just say that you won't like the consequences," Imogen said in a flat tone.
"I thought we were friends, Imogen," Rita said, to everyone's surprise.
"We used to be, Rita, until you started sprouting lies around, no matter the consequences or the ones affected. Until you start being a reporter once again, and not … whatever you are right now, I'm going to be only the lawyer to my client, and the most vociferous enemy you'll have regarding him. Are we understood?"
The woman gritted a "Yes," and Imogen walked to a side, but kept within hearing distance of them.
"Now, Harry, what happened here?" she asked.
"I don't know if I'm the right person that you'll want to talk right now, Rita. I think that our dear beloved Minister would be someone much more interesting to interview today," he said, playing his trump card. Hermione was right, people need to be informed.
"Fudge? What did he do, now?" the reporter asked, really curious.
"Better question is what he didn't do. But let's make a deal, shall we?"
The reporter almost popped a gasket, but Harry knew what he needed to make the woman fold.
"Go ahead," she said, the simple words almost sounding like a scream of pain.
"Okay, first of all, your source is anonymous, I don't want to see my name written anywhere in the Prophet with your signature under it. Got me?"
She nodded, and Imogen smiled wolfishly.
"Apparently, Azkaban was emptied last night, and Fudge doesn't want the public to know. All the people taking care of the prison were Kissed."
"WHAT?" Skeeter screamed.
"And I think you might want to question your reading audience if they know why a well-known pureblood spawn of a Death Eater, with very clear inclinations about following the wrong path, was beaten to within an inch of his life by his own fellow Eaters."
"WHAT?" This time, the scream gained intensity but lost the timbre, turning into an ear-splitting shriek.
Hermione noticed a commotion by the Alley entrance, her own smile growing. She pulled Harry's sleeve to call his attention, and silently pointed to the group of people currently entering the Alley. Harry smiled, and turned his attention back to the reporter.
"Speaking of the devil," he said, and nodded in the direction of the group, while giving the Quick Notes quill back to Rita. She turned around, and her eyes gleamed in anticipation.
Coming out of the Cauldron was none other than Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, surrounded by ten or so Aurors.
The Boy-Who-Lived and the Minister locked eyes, Fudge's narrowing in anger, Harry's burning with the same feeling. Cornelius moved in an interception course to Harry's group while they stood their ground. Thankfully, Rita Skeeter finally cut their line of sight and moved right into position to interview Fudge.
Seeing an opportunity to avoid another confrontation, Imogen steered the group to the side, and they moved past Fudge's group in complete silence. Once they were safely inside the wizarding pub, almost all the group gave away a relieved breath.
"You said she was a Slytherin..." Harry started.
"And your friend," the bushy-haired witch finished.
"Former friend," Immie corrected. "We went to Hogwarts at the same time, I was put into Gryffindor, she in Slytherin, and aside from the common in-house rivalries, we got along famously. She was always ambitious, but she didn't distort facts and lied like she does nowadays. It started after we graduated and she landed the job at the Prophet."
"First time I'm going to thank Rita Skeeter for something," Harry said to Hermione's nod of agreement.
"You'll have to wait for tomorrow's paper, but it was masterfully done. And with my warning, she won't be able to print your name anywhere," Immie said.
"But Fudge will know," Hermione replied.
"Will he? He might suspect, but with my fame, I think he'll see the Boy-Who-Lived being interviewed, nothing else. Even if he suspects, what else he can do? Sack me?"
Hermione's reply was interrupted by Dudley.
"Who was the important-looking man back there?" the big boy asked.
"The very own Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He and Harry have a convoluted story," Hermione replied.
"Man's a manipulative, corrupt, self-centered idiot," Harry completed. "It was because of him we were attacked last year, Dud."
Dudley's face hardened. "Can I punch him?"
"Not right now, but if the opportunity arises, I'll help you," Harry said, and more than one voice replied a "me too."
Tom approached them, and Harry took point. "Hello, Tom. Sorry about your trouble, but here," Harry said, depositing quite a few galleons in the counter. "We won't be staying for breakfast, with the attack and all, we decided to go back home."
"Sure, Harry," the man said, downcast. Harry looked around the nearly empty pub, Voldemort was bad news for business.
"Okay, thanks, and sorry for your trouble once again."
They walked out of the door to Muggle London.
"Now, how do we do this?" Harry asked to the group.
"I could hail a cab and take you, plus Mr. Granger and Dudley with us. Mr. Lupin and Mac can apparate to Privet Drive," Imogen pointed out.
With nods of agreement, they separated, Mac and Remus disappearing from muggle sight before apparating, while Immie hailed a cab to take them back.