Mobilizing Armies
Rose was welcomed by her house mates hardly less friendly than Albus was by the Slytherins. The same pats on the shoulder, the same hugs, the same reassurance: "We are behind you."
And yet she couldn't quite bring herself to be happy about it. James, who had entered the room after her, kept behind her – almost as if he, though half a foot taller, tried to hide behind her. Rose turned and grabbed his hand, gently pulling him forward. The buzz of voices ebbed away.
In front of them stood Rupert Wilkinson, a fifth-year and one of Hermione's most fanatical partisans. He was the one who had tried to jump on Roy and had collided with Ethelbert after Hermione's speech in September. Not a particularly gifted student, not a Quidditch ace, not a heartthrob, rather pale, pimply, unimpressive and with incredibly ugly glasses on his nose, he had nevertheless worked his way up to become a kind of spokesman for the Gryffindors with his resolute support for the Minister. He was about to make one of his notorious speeches, but now he stopped and looked a little embarrassed.
"Um, I think it's really good, Potter, that you're standing by her. After all, it shows that not all Potters are like ..."
James' blood rushed to his head: "LIKE WHO?" he roared. All of a sudden, it was quiet.
"Well," said Wilkinson irresolutely, "I'm sure it's not easy for you either ... for you all," he added, as Victoire now demonstratively joined the two younger.
"Anyway, we've been thinking that we need to do something for Hermione, right now ... So, we've drafted a resolution."
As Victoire, James and Rose only exchanged worried glances without answering, he cleared his throat, unrolled a sheet of parchment and read monotonously:
"We, the Gryffindor students, dismayed by today's heinous assault, declare and reaffirm our unwavering solidarity with Minister for Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley. We strongly support her in her fight against Death Eaterdom and for an open and tolerant wizarding world, whose enemies have today proved that they will stop at nothing to achieve their inhuman aims ..."
Ethelbert stepped up to James, who looked like he was about to pounce on Wilkinson, grabbed his arm and murmured to him: "Calm down, it's useless ..."
Wilkinson continued:
"We particularly welcome and support the strong action taken by the Minister in issuing her Emergency Decree for the Protection of the Magical State. We wish to encourage her in this way to resolutely crush the head of the serpent of Death Eaterdom. This cancer has to be wiped out, a short work is to be made of it, and all enemies of the open and tolerant wizarding world have to be mercilessly delivered to the executioner, irrespective of the person. We, the students of Gryffindor, emphatically distance ourselves from former Gryffindor student Harry Potter in particular. We refuse to consider him one of us any longer and express our confidence that the Magical State's courts will deal ruthlessly with him, his helpers and ideological kinsmen!"
Most of the students applauded, though many of them did so with restraint. Obviously, no one wanted to be suspected of lacking determination in the fight against Death Eaterdom. Victoire, James and Rose stared at Wilkinson. Victoire was the first to find her voice again:
"You're not seriously going to publish that, are you?" she asked, aghast.
Wilkinson looked genuinely puzzled:
"Er, yes, of course ... Everyone has already signed ..."
"Everyone?", Victoire interrupted him.
Wilkinson gave Ethelbert a contemptuous look: "Everyone. Apart from our so-called Prefect, of course," he added, drawling. "All we need now is your signatures, then it will be within the deadline for tomorrow's Daily Prophet."
Now James was no longer holding off. He tore himself away from Ethelbert and shouted at Wilkinson: "You want to fight Death Eaters? Perfect! Let's start with you, you swine!"
And before anyone could react, he punched Wilkinson's nose so hard that blood spurted across the room. Now a dozen others rushed James to beat him, while Ethelbert and Victoire took out their wands, stopped some of the attackers with Petrificus and Levitation charms, and finally managed to pull James – with a swollen eye and bloody face – out of the melee. As some of the opponents now drew their wands, the two Prefects protected themselves, James and Rose with a Shield Charm.
The stalemate caused a silence in which only the gasps of the fighters could be heard.
"There's no point," a sixth-year finally shouted – one of those who had only cautiously applauded the resolution –, "in beating each other up here! Put away your wands and come to your senses. You first," said he to Wilkinson and his mates, who reluctantly obeyed after repairing Wilkinson's nose. Victoire healed James' scratches, then she too pocketed the wand, as did Ethelbert and James.
Wilkinson picked up the parchment that had fallen to the floor during the scuffle and was immediately back in his element.
"All right then, Potter won't sign it," he shouted, slightly offended. "At least now we know what to think of your support for Hermione. O yeah, when it's hitting your own clan ... Weasley, what about you?" He meant Victoire.
"Your fabulous resolution," she replied angrily, "is something you can ... You don't seriously expect me to sign that bloodthirsty madness, do you?"
Wilkinson shook his head indignantly. Now he turned to Rose and held it under her nose, along with a feather. "You sign! You can't let your mother's murderer get away!"
Rose fearfully recoiled from him, but he kept insisting until Victoire intervened: "Leave the child alone!"
"Stay out, Weasley!" shouted Wilkinson's cronies. Some of them came and dragged her away by force, while others held James and Ethelbert down and no one else dared intervene.
Wilkinson pressed the petite rose against the wall.
"You have to sign and you will!" he growled.
Scorpius, Jennifer, Lance and even some girls and boys from the fourth and fifth classes, whom Albus only knew by sight, now were sitting with him. Patricia sat directly on the armrest of his armchair and stroked his tousled hair. Albus smiled up at her. This was something you could definitely get used to.
"Roy," he heard Bernie call, "should I write to my father too? He's no wizard, but ..."
"... Granger's most important partner in the Muggle world!", Roy interrupted him with a quivering voice. "That's an excellent idea! Write to him! He certainly has an influence on her! She wants to open us up to the Muggle world, so she has to take into account how murderous dictators and executioners with bloody axes appeal to Muggles! Be sure to write Muggle style: Write that Granger is working with Nazi laws ..."
"Roy!", Bernie drowned him out. "Ever since I can remember, we've had politics for breakfast in our family, I know how to write something like that, count on me!"
Roy nodded. He didn't notice that he was panting, his fists were clenched incessantly, his lips were trembling and the tears of rage, though he held them back, had reddened his eyes. But Arabella noticed.
"Follow me!" she said and reached for his hand.
"I can't yet, I still have to ..."
"You – follow – me – now!" she hissed with a sternness that would have been worthy of Professor McGonagall, dragging him along after her.
"But Al needs me now!"
"He doesn't! Look at him!"
Indeed, Albus was sitting in the midst of old and new friends, still being stroked by Patricia and looking a little spent but anything but unhappy. The encouragement was visibly good for him.
"You've aligned the Slytherins," Arabella said. "You have – as prudently as usual – arranged everything that was needed and possible. You did everything you could for Albus. Now you can leave him to himself and his other friends!"
She pulled him along behind her again.
"Yes, but the others need ..."
"Need, need, need!" she cut him off. "You mean you have to hold the fort because Albus needs you and Harry needs you and Slytherin needs you and the wizarding world needs you ..."
She pushed open the door to the corridor and dragged her boyfriend out.
"That's true in a way," she continued, heading towards the secret room. "But they don't need you around the clock! You have to learn to take what you need!"
"And what do I need?"
"Me," she replied curtly. "Really, I admire you, you always want to be strong, and you are. But the last few weeks have been too much even for you, and Harry's arrest is just putting you over the edge. You always know only one thing: Grit your teeth, keep your composure, control yourself, be strong. But no human being can always be strong, not even you! If you never refuel, sooner or later you will collapse, and that's the point where you are now. You will refuel, and your service station is me. In the long run, you can only be strong if you sometimes let go and allow yourself to be weak. That's why we go to where you can be it and no one will see it but me!"
They reached the secret room. Arabella opened it.
"It's almost nine o'clock," said Roy, "and we don't have the Marauder's Map. When we go back, we risk getting caught."
"We won't go back tonight, my little bear," Arabella decided and smiled. "We are going to stay here all night."