The man blinked his eyes. He rubbed them. Surely he hadn't just seen that painting move… but there it was again! He sighed in exasperation as he remembered just what that symbol meant. Hurriedly, he shooed his aides out of his office, locking the door behind them. Trying to maintain a poised look, he leaned slightly on his desk, and waited, facing the fireplace in front of his desk.

The barren and dark fireplace suddenly blazed with a brazier of green flame. Out stepped a man, a handkerchief clasped over his mouth and nose. Gathering himself, he smiled widely at the man waiting for him, reaching out and shaking his hand.

"Ah Prime Minister, I hope you got my notice?"

The man nodded.

"Erm, yes, I did. Cornelius, what is this all about?"

The Minister of Magic fidgeted slightly, before answering.

"Ah, yes well. Perhaps it would be best if we sat?"

The Prime Minister's face darkened slightly, but nodded curtly, moving back behind his desk, and gesturing for the other man to do the same. Once the two were seated, he raised his eyebrow, questioningly. Fudge sighed, and spoke.

"Well, about the events of a few days ago… there was a bit of a ruckus at the Quidditch World Cup, some drunken idiots pretending to be Death Eaters who… well… a few muggles got caught up in the havoc and well... "

"Well?"

The Prime Minister pressed Fudge furiously.

"What happened to them?"

Fudge leaned back into his seat, avoiding his counterpart's gaze.

"They were tortured to the brink of insanity."

The man jumped up to his feet, furious.

"You mean to tell me that some of you, wannabe followers of that dead evil lord person, tortured British citizens? Under your watch? How could you let that happen?"

Fudge raised his hands defensively.

"Look, we're doing our best to catch them. And when we do, they'll be punished severely. Life in Azkaban, I promise you that."

The other minister collapsed back into his chair.

"Tell me you at least have some leads… that this won't be happening again?"

Fudge winced.

"We'll catch them, I promise you."

The Prime Minister shook his head in disgust.

"Fine. You'd better, I want to be kept updated on that case! Is that all?"

Fudge fidgeted awkwardly in his chair.

"Well, not exactly. We're planning another large-scale event in a few months' time, and we need to… import several deadly creatures."

The man across from him covered his face with his hands.

"Are you insane? You just messed up the World Cup, now you want to hold another one, and import deadly creatures? Several of them? How on earth are you going to guarantee their security?"

Fudge crossed his arms, looking frustrated.

"Minister, I'm afraid this event will be going forward. I have a duty to inform you, but nothing more. We shall ensure that no muggles will be impacted in any way."

The Prime Minister snorted in disbelief.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. Next thing you'll be telling me that you'll be letting in large groups of foreigners again, like at your botched World Cup. Do you know that Britain is still maintaining strict border security? Most people don't get to cross into our land, even for legitimate reasons. But oh, you lot, coming here in droves to what? To go to damn sporting events."

Fudge flinched again. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, instead choosing to stand up and back away, towards the fireplace. Reaching into his pocket, he threw a dusting of Floo powder into the fire, igniting it once more. Clearing his throat, he turned, to where the Prime Minister was staring at him with disbelief and disgust.

"We… might be welcoming a party of close to a hundred witches and wizards from Europe. But ahem, dear chap, I'll send the details along in a letter. I'm a busy man, you know."

With that, the portly man turned to the fire, and shouted.

"Ministry of Magic!"

He disappeared into the green flames, and they faded before the frozen Prime Minister, stuck in his seat. As the ashes settled onto his once clean carpet, the man slammed his hand onto his desk.

"Confound those wizards! Polls, a virus and now this!"

-line break-

Rays of the early morning sun passed over the grand towers of Hogwarts, filtering through curtains, casting large shadows onto the ground. From afar, a small speck of white slowly formed into the shape of a snowy owl, powerful wingbeats driving her towards the castle. As she drew near, almost as if to appreciate the glowing sunrise caressing Hogwarts with its orange and red light, Hedwig looped around the castle. After surveying her human's home for the rest of the year, she swooped toward the Owlery, disappearing between columns of stone.

Ron's head was slumped over a plate of eggs and bacon, his nose almost touching his breakfast. Around him was much of the same, yawns, ruffled hair from a night's sleep, and an air of drowsiness. Suddenly, the air was full of noise and activity, as the mail owls came swooping in from the Owlery, flying to each table in a cacophony of screeches and wingbeats.

Hedwig glided down towards the Gryffindor table, landing in front of Harry and his friends. Lifting her leg to reveal the letter attached, she waited as Harry quickly removed the parcel from her. Harry grabbed a rasher of bacon from his plate, and held it in front of Hedwig. The snowy owl grabbed it quickly, devouring the crisp piece of meat.

"Thanks Hedwig… Oh wow, it's a reply from Siri- Snuffles!"

Harry quickly broke the seal on the letter, revealing the contents within.

Harry,

I'm glad you got away from those awful muggles, and I'm really sorry that my offer to let you stay at my place fell through. Thank the Weasley's for me, they really are a good lot. It's great that you were able to watch the World Cup. I always thought James would have made the England team as a seeker if not for… well, you know. I imagine that by the time Hedwig gets to you, you'll be back at Hogwarts, so I hope you have a good year, pup. Remember, it's not all about learning and grades, enjoy yourself. Put that cloak to good use, maybe find a cupboard and have some fun.

I heard the news about the Death Eater attack at the World Cup… if it's not a sick, sick prank, you should watch your back, Harry. Gryffindor or not, if you find yourself facing one of them… run. Get away, get help, and unless all else fails do not try to confront them. I've had too many friends die at the hands of those bastards, I can't lose you too.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but a week or so ago I was in Europe, but didn't stay for long. I'm guessing all the dampness and wet has gotten to even us witches and wizards; too many sneezing and coughing people for me.

Thank you for that offer, but I think I'm doing just alright for food here. Wouldn't want to trouble your owl too much, although she certainly seems like she could do it and much more.

It was good to hear from you Harry, but now that you're back at school, I would focus on that. Have some fun!

Give Snivellus a kick in the pants for me.

Snuffles

Harry grinned at the last line, handing the letter over to a curious looking Hermione as he did so. Hedwig nipped his fingers gently, before stealing another strip of bacon from his plate, and taking back off. Harry turned to the Daily Prophet, which Hermione had set aside to look through the short message that Sirius had sent.

The front page was still covered with news about the attack on the Quidditch World Cup, a witch dressed in a fluorescent green jacket holding an equally neon green quill in her hands smiling up from a profile picture beside the headline. Harry felt unsettled for a moment, the blonde writer's smile seeming almost predatory. He shook it off, and scanned the rest of the front page, when something at the bottom corner caught his eye.

Mystery Outbreak in Transdanubia, Hungary p. 3

Harry frowned, turning to where Hermione had finished reading Sirius's message.

"Hermione… Siri- agh, I keep forgetting. Snuffles mentioned a … sickness or something didn't he?"

Harry flipped to the page where the full article was listed in the Prophet, placing the newspaper between them.

"Do you think this could have anything to do with it?"

Hermione furrowed her brows, looking through the short article in the Prophet.

An outbreak of sickness shot through the magical community of Transdanubia Wednesday, leaving many witches and wizards displaying symptoms of what is commonly referred to by muggles as a 'cold'. While cases of wizarding sickness have been documented in the past, symptoms such as these have not been commonly reported, making this a curious case. Regardless, it does not seem to be anything approaching wizarding diseases like Spattergroit, or indeed, Dragon Pox. Sneezing and coughing were rampant in the streets of this historic town, and many a wizard was left tired and drowsy. However, most of the symptoms seemed to pass very swiftly, making this seem like a simple illness, or perhaps even a light curse, or potion leakage. As such, the Goblins at Gringotts have sent a curse breaker to examine the situation. We will most likely have a report on the situation in a few weeks, which we will make sure to promptly give to you, dear reader.

"I mean… Snuffles did mention a lot of sneezing and coughing as well… it seems a little too close to be a coincidence."

Harry nodded, agreeing with Hermione. She continued.

"I mean… I know Mr. Weasley said that wizards were quite naturally resistant to illnesses, but surely it can't be a coincidence that just when the muggle world is just getting over a massive virus that nearly shut down the world, some wizards get mysteriously sick, right?"

From his other side, Ron chimed in.

"But Hermione, for the entire world to shut down, the virus would have to be pretty serious right? The Prophet says it's nothing that bad, just some coughing and sneezing. It can't be the same thing… though if it was, I wouldn't mind a few weeks off from school."

The redhead drifted off into a daydream of escape from schoolwork. As he did so, Hermione sighed.

"He does make a good point, you know."

She said, rather grudgingly.

"I guess I'm just trying to connect some dots here, but there's really not much information in this article. I think I might go to the library after this, I'm sure Hogwarts has some books about wizarding illnesses and diseases."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I might go talk with Madam Pomphrey then, like Mr. Weasley said. She's a healer so she'll probably have some information about that kind of thing as well."

Hermione smiled at Harry.

"Thank you!"

Ron fell back into reality.

"Hang on, Harry. Willingly doing research? Who are you and what have you done with my mate?"

Harry chuckled, but shook his head.

"Come on, Ron. You're not the least bit interested? It's better than knowing nothing, I feel. And like Hermione said, it feels like there have been an awful lot of coincidences recently. It honestly just makes me feel better to be doing something, instead of nothing at all. I mean, I think it would be worth doing some research on Death Eaters too, you know. Snuffles did give us a warning about them… and knowing me I'm going to find myself in a locked room with a few of them in no time -"

Ron shushed Harry rushedly.

"Don't jinx it! Fine, fine, fine. I'll do a little research with you. But Bill told me over the summer about this thing called Life-Work balance… Hermione, that's for you, don't stay stuck in the library all the time."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled at Ron.

"Thank you for caring, Ronald. Fine then, it's our first day of classes, so we don't have to go today. I will, however, be making a schedule so we can fit in library sessions and talking to Madam Pomphrey throughout the week. While balancing some free time, so don't worry. But still, I think we'd be better off getting more work done before the tournament. Knowing you two boys, you'll be whooping and cheering at every event."

Ron shrugged cheekily, turning to Harry.

"Well I honestly still might try to join up. I heard Fred and George talking about some strategies to get in, using an Aging potion or something like that."

Harry grimaced slightly.

"Look, Ron, you're free to do that, but I wouldn't go anywhere near that cup. Anyway, didn't Dumbledore put up some kind of spell around it? To make sure no one who's underage can join, right?"

Hermione nodded primly.

"He's right, you know. Your brothers might be good with pranks but I think they'll be hard pressed to get past something a spell that Dumbledore cast."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Killjoy. Look, it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

As Hermione and Ron began bickering about the merits of joining such a dangerous competition, the heads of houses slowly came around each table, handing out timetables for the term. Harry reached back, grabbing the three sheets of paper Professor McGonagall was handing out, grinning at the exasperated look on her face as she saw one of her star students arguing so ferociously. Rolling one of the schedules into a tube, Harry lightly whacked Ron on the back of the head, jerking him out of his war of words with Hermione.

"Oi, come on now you two. We've got our schedules, first classes starting pretty soon."

Hermione blushed furiously, and snatched a schedule out of Harry's hands.

"Ahem. Thank you, Harry. Ooh, looks like we've got Herbology first today! And wow, then we have Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid! What have you two got after that?"

Harry consulted his slightly rolled parchment, looking at the class list.

"I think Ron and I have Divination after that. Still not a fan of that class, Hermione?"

Hermione snorted.

"I have no time for that ridiculous fraud, and those inane tea parties she calls classes."

Ron laughed, shaking his head.

"And here I thought you liked professors, Hermione."

Hermione switched her glare from the staff table where Trelawny was sitting to Ron. Balefully, she retorted.

"I like good professors, who actually know how to do their jobs, Ronald."

Ron held his hand out in front of him in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I get that, I do."

He let out a short cough that sounded conspicuously like the name 'Lockhart'. Hermione punched him in the shoulder, and began packing her bags. Ron gave his schedule a once over, sighing as he did so.

"Aww, we don't have Moody until Thursday!"

Harry looked down at his own schedule, checking Ron's words.

"Looking forward to the class, Ron?"

Ron nodded furiously.

"Of course! He knows, mate. He's been out there, capturing Dark wizards, fighting them… he's an absolute hero. Also absolutely insane, but is that really important?"

Hermione tilted her head curiously.

"I mean, it definitely could be good to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts from someone who clearly has so much real world experience in the field, a real veteran, you know? But I don't know, will he be able to teach properly? Doing the work and explaining it and teaching it to someone is completely different."

Here, she sighed.

"Like Professor Snape, for example. I've read up on him, and he was actually one of the youngest wizards to ever be granted the title of Potions Master, did you know that? He's definitely good at brewing potions… but he just really isn't the best at teaching that to students, is he. Professor Lupin's classes were so good, I hope that Professor Moody can keep up with that standard."

The trio stood up from their seats, heading toward the great oak doors at the back of the hall. As they made their way to Herbology, they merged with the rest of their Gryffindor year-mates, filing through the hallways to the Hogwarts greenhouses.

AN: Another 7 days between updates, sorry but this might be the norm from now on. I want to be consistent, so I'm trying to work on a schedule that I can keep up. Hope you enjoy!