HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 9: Reactions and Overreactions pt 2.
Somewhere, Sometime...
The little boy had been lost in the woods for longer than he could remember, and as the night got colder, he'd ended up huddled under a tree sobbing quietly and shivering both from the cold and from fear. For he knew that there was a monster after him, a great and terrible monster that would devour him whole if it caught him. Then, the boy gasped in terror as a demonic howl erupted from farther into the woods. It was some distance away, but closer than the last time he'd heard it just a few minutes before. The boy began to weep piteously. He was alone and cold and the monster would be here soon. Then, as that thought rippled through his terrified mind, the boy heard another sound much closer. He turned and saw that the bushes just a few feet away were rustling as some thing pushed its way through them. And the distant howl that had so frightened the boy was now replaced by a different animal sound. A low, hungry growl.
The bushes parted, and the boy screamed.
A heavily warded and reinforced chamber deep beneath the Temple of Wisdom in Shamballa
6:42 a.m. (local time)
Remus Lupin ("Brother Chandra" to most of his peers at the Temple) awoke with a loud and painful gasp of air before looking around wildly around to find himself nude and alone in a cold, darkened chamber. He gave a relaxed sigh. All was as it should be. Then, he arose and moved to the locked door, stepping gingerly over the stripped carcass of a yak which had been provided by the monks and upon which his other half had dined heartily in the night. At the door, he closed his eyes and spent several seconds waving his hands in a complicated mudra that would have been beyond either the dexterity or the wisdom of a werewolf. The door clicked open, and Remus stepped through to the lighted antechamber where his clothes and wand were waiting. Naturally, the Alohomora Charm would have been faster and easier, but the risk of leaving his wand where it might be smashed by an anger-crazed werewolf was too great.
The English monk calmly dressed himself and then stepped back into his holding cell to vanish the yak's remains and Scourgify the cell. He made a mental note to spend time meditating in gratitude to the spirit of the animal for its self-sacrifice on behalf of his own mental health. He also made a mental note to gargle as soon as possible to get the taste of yak meat out of his mouth. At this point on his spiritual journey, Remus only ate meat while in the throes of his lycanthropic transformation, and he had grown to otherwise dislike the taste of it, especially when it was still raw and bloody. However, years of study had shown that if the Beast was allowed to slake its hunger for flesh on a sufficient quantity of animal flesh, it was less likely to take out its anger at confinement on its own physical body, and the taste of yak breath was a small price to pay to not wake up half-dead and covered in scratches and claw-marks. Indeed, except for the intense recurring nightmare that came with every transformation just before he woke the next morning, Remus considered his transformations almost consequence free.
From his transformation chamber, Remus climbed the many stairs up to his own rooms, bowing respectfully to all the other monks who crossed his path, all of whom returned the bow with equal respect. Back in his private chambers, Remus took a quick cold shower and dressed in fresh clothes. When he returned to his sitting room, there was a small tray waiting on his table containing fresh fruit, rice, fish broth, and juice, along with a folded copy of the Daily Prophet. Remus smiled. In all his time in Shamballa, he had never actually seen a house elf here, but he knew the Temple had some. Unlike the elves back in Britain, however, the house elves of Shamballa were almost never seen in physical form, preferring to perform their duties silently and invisibly.
The wizard sat at his table, popped a peach slice into his mouth, and opened the paper ... only to spit the fruit out after nearly choking on it.
DEATH EATERS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN!
SIRIUS BLACK! BELLATRIX LESTRANGE!
THE LESTRANGE BROTHERS! AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD!
YOU-KNOW-WHO S ENTIRE INNER CIRCLE!
WHO WILL SAVE US FROM THE DEATH EATER MENACE?
Nearly in shock, Remus tore through the article.
"Sirius ... free," he whispered to himself in a flurry of mixed emotions. And if the Betrayer was free, it was a safe bet he might try to pick up where his master had left off. Remus shook his head. It seemed that Jim's training could no longer be left off until the following summer, just as it seemed that Remus's reunion with young Harry could no longer be delayed. He reached for his wand.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM," he intoned, and a beautiful silver wolf appeared at his side. "Go to Healer Baskar and the High Lama. Tell each of them that I humbly but urgently request an audience with them both as soon as their schedules allow." The wolf nodded and then disappeared. Remus swiftly moved to a writing desk from which he withdrew some parchment and a quill that hadn't been used in years.
"To Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster,
Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry"
4 August 1993
The Weasley Burrow
Noon
After a busy morning of de-gnoming the garden, the five youngest Weasley children entered the Burrow for lunch. Percy stopped to turn on the Wizarding Wireless just in time for the noon news broadcast.
"Percy," Molly scolded gently. "We don't listen to the Wireless at the dinner table."
"I'm not listening for music, Mum," the boy replied. "There's supposed to be a news update about the Wizengamot hearing."
"Yeah," said Fred with a laugh. "Maybe Dad will get to give a speech."
"Oh, behave, Fred," Molly said with some irritation. "This is a very important meeting, and it's a great honor for your father to be there among the Order of Merlin holders." Before she could say any more, the music on the wireless faded away to be replaced by the dulcet tones of the lunchtime newsreader for the Wizarding Wireless.
"Good afternoon, witches and wizards. This is Alcmene Doolittle with the twelve o'clock news. It has been four days since the daring jailbreak from Azkaban that has riveted the entire nation. Thus far, the DMLE has no leads on the fugitive Death Eaters, which include Sirius Black, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, and Augustus Rookwood. Should any of our listeners have any information on the whereabouts of the escapees or the unknown individuals responsible for their escape, we urge you to contact the DMLE at once. For the moment, the DMLE advises that Magical Britain's threat level is rated as 'Red-Severe.'
The Wizengamot is currently in recess for lunch and will resume deliberations at two o'clock. This morning's session was brief but contentious. After the Calling of the Rolls and the ceremonial renewal of the Vows of Unity, the reports of the DMLE and the Auror Corps regarding the escape were presented, followed by a brief but spirited question-and-answer period. DMLE Director Amelia Bones began the report by officially clearing Minister Fudge, Chief Auror Potter, and Auror Michael Proudfoot of any involvement in the escape. Immediately thereafter, a point of order was raised by Lord Yaxley as to whether Polyjuice Potion was used and, if so, whether it spoke to a failure of security on the part of the DMLE that hair samples from such illustrious personages could be obtained so easily by enemies of the state.
Approximately one hour earlier...
James stiffened slightly at the implied rebuke from Yaxley, a man he was almost certain was an unmarked Death Eater.
"Our preliminary investigation indicates that the three intruders responsible for the breakout maintained their forms after at least two hours and two separate exposures to Thief's Downfall," James said, referring to the report on the table in front of him. "This would seem to exclude the use of Polyjuice Potion. Accordingly, we are proceeding under the assumption that the intruders were a trio of Metamorphmagi."
Up in the gallery, Harry's brow furrowed. While it was to the benefit of Regulus's conspiracy, he was surprised that the DMLE had dismissed the possibility of an improved Polyjuice so completely. Then, he realized that they probably hadn't dismissed it at all but were simply downplaying that possibility to prevent panic. Better the nation think that there were three rogue shapeshifters than a possible army of them that were immune to detection.
"Chief Warlock, I rise to a point of inquiry," said the venerable Griselda Marchbanks. The ancient witch rose stiffly to her feet, as she was recognized by the Chief Warlock. 'I was given to understand, Lord Potter, that there is only one known Metamorphmagus in all of Magical Britain, a young woman currently studying at the Auror Academy. Has she been investigated in connection with these monstrous acts?"
"She has, Lady Marchbanks. At the time of the prison break, she was at home with her parents in Hogsmeade." Then, James took a deep breath as Tiberius Nott rose as well. Up in the gallery, Harry's eyes flashed angrily before his mask of perfect calm slipped back into place.
"I also rise to a point of inquiry, Chief Warlock." There was a slight but noticeable hesitation before Dumbledore recognized the man who then turned his attention to the Chief Auror. "Lord Potter, am I correct in assuming that the young Metamorphmagus of whom you speak is one Nymphadora Tonks, the daughter of Andromeda Tonks ... formerly of House Black! Specifically, the sister of one of the escapees, the cousin of another, and the sister-in-law of two more?!"
There was a burst of excited whispers from the assembled peers at the invocation of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, whose seat was currently vacant. From the Chief Warlock's desk, Dumbledore banged his gavel for order.
"And furthermore," Nott continued, "am I not also correct in my understanding that this is the same Andromeda Tonks who currently provides sanctuary to the outcast known as Theodore No-Name!"
That announcement led to even louder commentary and even a few gasps until Dumbledore banged his gavel again and with perhaps more force than tradition allowed.
"The point of inquiry is ruled out of order, Lord Nott," he said firmly and with a hint of coldness. "Whatever else he may be, Theodore No-Name is a child of only thirteen years, and his current housing arrangements are not relevant to this discussion. Likewise, Andromeda Tonks has never been accused or even suspected of any criminal acts against the State or the people of Magical Britain, and she is, in fact, a well-regarded member of the Hogsmeade community with a sterling reputation. The Wizengamot does not adjudicate guilt or innocence on the basis of family history, Lord Nott, as I'm sure you recall."
Tiberius's eye twitched slightly. "... I withdraw the point of inquiry, Chief Warlock," he said tersely before sitting back down.
Then, it was Lord MacMillan's turn to be recognized. Harry knew little about the MacMillans. The MacMillan Heir was a Gryffindor who had graduated during Harry's First Year. He vaguely recalled that the younger son, Ernie, was in his year, but the boy was a Hufflepuff, and Harry was sure they'd never spoken for more than a few minutes.
"Chief Warlock, I rise to a point of order. Director Bones, setting aside the Tonks girl, that still leaves at least two other Metamorphmagi involved in the attack on Azkaban. If there are no other known Metamorphmagi in Wizarding Britain, what consideration is the DMLE giving to the possibility of foreign agents being responsible for the attack?"
Director Bones replied. "The DMLE is considering all avenues of investigation, Lord MacMillan. That said, at this time, we cannot exclude the possibility of involvement by foreign wizards and even foreign governments, though we as yet have no idea as to any possible motive for a foreign wizarding government to free Death Eaters from Azkaban prison."
From across the room, Lord Parkinson (Pansy's father) gave a loud snort of laughter. "With all due respect, Director Bones, I think that bespeaks of a lack of imagination on the part of the DMLE."
Director Bones did not rise to the insult, though her expression made her feelings about Parkinson clear. Dumbledore apparently felt the same, as he ruled the comment out of order and chastised Parkinson for speaking without being recognized. Then, to Harry's surprise, Peter Pettigrew stood up from the Potter seat to make his own point of order. Dumbledore glanced down at James for a fraction of a second before recognizing the Potter Seneschal.
"With respect to my learned colleagues," Pettigrew said. "I believe it is premature to speculate wildly on the nature of the threat we face when the investigation is only begun. Certainly, we discredit ourselves and this institution if we frighten the wizarding populace with groundless insinuations about foreign invaders working alongside Death Eaters. With that in mind, perhaps it would be best to move on to another matter. Lord Potter, a point of inquiry: Regardless of how the intruders gained access to Azkaban, whether metamorphmagic or other means, does your investigation have any leads on how they were able to escapefrom Azkaban?"
James rose to respond almost as soon as Peter started speaking. After a second, Harry nodded to himself in understanding. He felt quite sure that Peter had asked his question in response to some discreet signal from James in order to divert attention away from something James didn't want to discuss at the moment, most likely something to do with the international implications of the jail break. Idly, he wondered which of the two came up with the stratagem. "Probably Pettigrew," he thought, "or maybe even Dumbledore."
"We do have some leads," said the Chief Auror. "It appears that the intruders have access to some kind of advanced portkey method, one capable of penetrating the anti-portkey wards of Azkaban Prison. Accordingly, we have instituted a crack-down on the illegal manufacture and sale of portkeys by unlicensed distributors."
After that pronouncement – that the (possibly foreign) shapeshifting invaders had access to portkeys seemingly able to slice through some of the most powerful wards ever devised – it took quite a lot of gavel-banging before order was restored.
One hour later ...
"Although much concern was expressed over the possibility of portkeys capable of circumventing anti-portkey wards, Director Bones and Chief Auror Potter were quick to address fears that such portkeys could be used to penetrate wards on public facilities or private homes. As Director Bones noted, the intrusion into Azkaban Prison required a daring use of shapeshifters to penetrate the prison's security and remain undiscovered for several hours. This, she said, strongly implied that it was not possible to simply portkey into a warded area and that the advanced portkeys simply allowed one to, as Lord Potter phrased it, 'blast their way out.'
After the reports were submitted and approved, the Wizengamot adjourned for two hours. When the session resumes this afternoon, it will begin deliberations on how to respond to this terrorist event, including a review of Minister Fudge's controversial proposal to reinstitute the Death Eater Laws which had previously been repealed in 1981.
For the Wizarding Wireless News, I'm Alcmene Doolittle."
George Weasley stared wide-eyed at the Wizarding Wireless for a long moment before heading quickly to the stairs.
"George, where are you going?" Molly asked. "We're about to start lunch."
The boy looked back at her, and Molly was shocked at his gaunt expression.
"I'm ... not feeling very well, Mum. Think I'll go lie down for a bit if that's okay." Then, without waiting for an answer, he practically ran up the stairs. Concerned, Molly started to follow him when Arthur called her name from the floo. As she went to speak with her husband, Percy looked over to Fred and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs.
A moment later, Fred entered the room he shared with his twin, with Percy close behind.
"Right, George, what's going ... on...?" Fred's voice faded away as he took in George's ashen face. The boy was sitting on his bed and staring forlornly at the floor, and he looked like he was on the verge of either bursting into tears or vomiting. Percy moved past Fred to sit next to George. He put his arm on the frightened boy's shoulder.
"George," he said in a gentle voice. "whatever it is, it'll be okay. Just talk to me."
George finally looked up at his brothers. "It's my fault. The bad guys who staged the prison break – they used my portkey design to break out. I'm ... I'm a part of all this."
Fred snorted softly. "Pull the other one, Georgie."
"I'm serious!" he exclaimed angrily. "Look, don't you two get it? One of the people who broke into Azkaban was disguised as Auror Proudfoot. The same Auror Proudfoot who showed up here to collect my portkey notes and then warn all of us not to talk about it with anyone. We had a Death Eater in our house! Hell, he was alone with Mum for part of the time! Who knows what he might have done if I hadn't just handed over all my notes like an idiot!"
"So you think there's a connection between Professor Lockhart's research projects and the Azkaban breakout?" Percy asked in a soft voice.
"There's got to be," George replied. And then to his surprise, Percy let out a short, slightly hysterical bark of laughter. "What's so funny?"
Percy shook his head and turned to George. "Well, look on the bright side, George. At least you're not the only Weasley to have been an unwitting accomplice."
"Eh?" Fred asked in confusion.
Percy looked back and forth between the two twins as he explained.
"The day before Lockhart took a runner from Hogwarts, I turned in my final project for Team Chameleon, the research team working on Polyjuice Potion. My paper was about a theoretical way to extend Polyjuice's duration. It wasn't a particularly safe modification, as it would probably make you quite sick once the transformation wore off. But if the research we all did for Lockhart was used by the people who staged the jailbreak, I reckon I'm as much of an accomplice as you."
He snorted softly. "I guess there goes that Ministry job for sure."
Fred just shook his head. "It's your own fault, both of you. You could have been lazy underachievers like me and just spent the whole year running laps around the castle, but noooo!"
Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor
1:00 p.m.
"I'm surprised you weren't there this morning," Harry Potter said somewhat mischievously to his twin. "I'd have figured that our parents would want to show you off at Wizengamot sessions whenever possible."
"And normally you would be right," Jim replied somewhat ruefully before taking another drag on his milkshake. "I haven't had to go since I started at Hogwarts since regular sessions happen while we're at school, but before then, I occasionally got dragged to them for special occasions. And if you think an hour or so of just taking roll was boring this morning, imagine having to listen to it when you're seven and our Mother has stuffed you into formal children's robes. Luckily, Mum and Dad's paranoia about Death Eater followup attacks against the Wizengamot meant I got to sleep in this morning."
The two boys had a table to themselves at Fortescue's while their parents sat at a separate nearby table along with Artie Podmore. As they talked and drank their milkshakes, the two tried to politely ignore the two aurors stationed nearby as their bodyguards.
"So do you actually enjoy all that political stuff?" Jim continued.
"Enjoyment has nothing to do with it," Harry said. "Politics is part of being a Potter. And if we don't work at it, we'll just be ceding more power to the bad guys."
"Hey, I thought I was supposed to fight the bad guys while you did the boring stuff," Jim said, recalling their very first conversation on the day the Potters collected Harry from Privet Drive.
Harry laughed. That conversation seemed so long ago. He'd been so ready to hate Jim, and for a while, Jim seemed eager to earn his hatred. He was glad they seemed to have gotten past all their prior hostility. Of course, he still wasn't ready to forgive James and Lily by any means, and certainly not to the point of giving them the power to interfere with his life again. But if James and Artie could work out an arrangement to guarantee Harry's status, safety, and independence, maybe ...
"We're both Potters, Jim. I think we'll both end up fighting the bad guys in our own different ways." He lifted up his own milkshake. "To fighting the bad guys," he said as a toast. Jim chuckled and raised his own glass to clink against Harry's.
"And speaking of bad guys, what do you think about the jail break?" Jim asked.
Harry shrugged and then launched into the answer he'd prepared before the jail break had even happened. "Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it. I'm confident that the aurors will get the escapees caught and locked up. And if not, it's because the escapees are already out of Britain, which means they won't be any immediate threat to us anyway. I'm taking too many classes this year to spend any spare time worrying about former Death Eaters who are probably too emaciated and insane to be a threat to anyone."
"Yeah, but if Voldemort is summoning his followers..." Both boys took a second to smirk at the horrified gasps from their bodyguards who were apparently still to afraid to say the Dark Lord's name.
"Then we'll deal with it when the time comes. But you and I are students. It's not our job to obsess over what Voldemort" /gasp!/ "might be doing. If it comes to that, you'll take him down and I'll be right there with you. But for the time being, I'm more worried about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."
Jim shuddered. "Brrrr. I think I'd rather fight Death Eaters."
"What are you taking for electives?"
"Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Easy Outstandings."
Harry snorted. "Well, I'll see you in CoMC, but Divination? Just for an easy O?"
"Not just for an easy O," Jim replied. "I am the subject of a True Prophecy, if you'll recall. I figure maybe it would be a good idea for me to learn a bit about how those things work."
"And also, it's an easy O."
"Yes, and also it's an easy O."
The twins both laughed.
"So you think there's a chance of finally getting all of this resolved?" James asked hopefully.
Artie hesitated. His client had authorized him to discuss possibly resolving the conflict between Harry and his family, but the solicitor was conflicted. On one hand, he thought it would be good for Harry to develop a positive relationship with his parents if it be feasible. On the other, he was not yet persuaded that James and Lily Potter would do right by their son and Heir. He had finally figured out Lily's position. She did care for Harry, but she felt certain that his life would be in continual danger if he stayed close to Jim. That much was clear from how she continually looked over at the table where the boys sat together chatting and eating ice cream, as if she feared that Death Eaters would burst in at any second to claim both boys despite the presence of two plain-clothes aurors just one table away. Her desire for reconciliation was tempered by her barely concealed wish to relocate Harry to the Antipodes to be instructed by trusted tutors in a bunker protected by the Fidelius Charm, even if that meant he never saw the rest of his family again.
James was harder to figure out. At first, back during Harry's first year, Artie had assumed that Lord Potter was simply biased in favor of the Boy-Who-Lived and also hopelessly prejudiced against Slytherins. Now, though, he was certain that James's motivations were more complicated, but Artie still couldn't begin to fathom why he would be so upset at having an Heir as formidable as Harry no matter what House he was in.
"I certainly hope so, Lord Potter," he finally said. "But at a minimum, it would be contingent on Harry feeling assured that his Heir status won't be compromised at any point."
"Why is he so afraid of that?" James asked.
Artie grimaced. "Lord Porter ... Harry is aware of the fact that you tried to disinherit him back in 1982."
Lily's head jerked around, and she glared at James in reproachful surprise. "James!"
"It's not like that, Lily. This was years and years ago, right after we sent Harry away." He turned to Artie. "At the time, everyone assured us that Harry was a squib, but he would still be the legal Heir until he was officially identified as such, and that wouldn't have happened until he was eleven. At the time, the war was still just winding down, and I was a young patrol auror, a very hazardous job. If I had died, House Potter would have needed a regent until Harry either showed magic or failed to get a Hogwarts letter. And I'm sorry, Lily, but I don't think the Wizengamot would have approved a Muggleborn regent for an Ancient and Noble House, and Merlin only knows who they'd have a appointed in your place. In fact, at the time, I think my closest Pureblood relative was Narcissa Black-Malfoy! But because Jim had already shown powerful magic, if he were the Heir when I died, Peter could have gotten him Lord Conditional status, and then you could have held his regency no matter what any of the Purebloods thought about it."
He sighed heavily. "And anyway, I never even got past the initial stages before Peter and I concluded that we couldn't take away Harry's Heir status without revealing his existence and where he was staying to the general public, thereby endangering his life. At that point, I dropped the idea completely."
"I am sympathetic to the situation you were in at the time, Lord Potter," Artie said. "But you must understand how all this looks to the boy. He has every reason to be distrustful to your intentions towards him. And if you truly want a reconciliation, you're going to have to give him assurances. Assurances that, according to my prior conversations with Mr. Pettigrew, you have not been inclined to make."
"Peter has a tendency to be ... overprotective where Jim is concerned," Lily said diplomatically. "This is one of those areas where maybe there's a conflict between his role as Seneschal and his roll as Jim's godfather. That's why I ... we wanted to talk to you for once without his input."
Artie absorbed that information while idly stirring his now melted ice cream. "Interesting. So Mrs. Potter is concerned that Pettigrew's fondness for Jim is clouding his judgment where Harry is concerned." Then, he frowned at his ice cream.
"You know, I can honestly say that I've never held a negotiation at an ice cream parlor before. It's oddly discomfiting. I've had a few in the private dining rooms at Summerisle's but never at Fortescue's."
James laughed. "Lily hates Summerisles for some reason. I've tried to get her to try it, but she refuses to set foot inside."
Lily stiffened. "I've tried it, James. It's just, well, I had an unpleasant dining experience there once, and I don't care to be reminded of it."
But then, despite herself, Lily looked across Diagon Alley towards the famous wizarding restaurant and frowned. It had indeed been a very unpleasant dining experience.
Summerisles
25 July 1976
The young Muggleborn girl sat nervously at her table waiting for her "luncheon companion." Although she was in her best dress, she was acutely aware of how her Muggle attire made her stick out against the wealthy magicals in the restaurant in their fine robes and elaborate pointy hats. None of them appeared to pay her any mind, but she assumed at least some of them were whispering "Mudblood" under their breath. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a figure moved past her and slid into the chair opposite.
"I do apologize for my tardiness, my dear," the other woman said. "But thank you so much for coming. I've been looking forward to meeting with you."
Lily tried to smile but it faltered on her lips. "Your invitation was most ... insistent, your Ladyship. Not to be rude, but why exactly have you been looking forward to meeting me?" As if the girl didn't already have a general idea. Something to do with the Toe-Rag.
"Please, Lily," said Lady Potter almost earnestly. "Call me Dorea. After all, I'm hopeful that you and I will become great friends."
The Present ...
"But enough about all this boring 'escaped Death Eater' stuff," Harry said, diverting the topic. "Have you seen the new Firebolt yet?"
"Not yet. I tried to get Mum to take me by Quality Quidditch Supplies on the way here, but she wouldn't go for it. There was a big crowd around the window gawking at it, and she was worried about safety." Jim frowned. "I think there's going to be a lot of that going on this year. No, Jim, you can't do that. Safety! I mean, they haven't even decided if I can leave Hogwarts for Hogsmeade weekends this year. Will you be able to?"
Harry grimaced. "Don't know yet. It depends on Lily and James. The injunction against them forbids them from 'interfering with my education and living arrangements," but it's a Hogwarts policy that you have to have a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian to visit Hogsmeade. Then again, other than Zonko's and the Quidditch supply store, there's not really that much to Hogsmeade, or so I'm told. Blaise Zabini describes it as 'a magical hick-town' and 'Branson, Missouri for wizards.'"
Jim furrowed his brow. "I don't know what that means."
Harry coughed. "Well, to be honest, neither do I, but it sure sounds depressing."
"Well, I do think we've made some progress today," Artie said. "I don't think we're quite ready for Harry to move back to Potter Manor for good nor even ready to dissolve the injunction. But I believe that I see the beginnings of a possible resolution of the issues between you two and your son. Perhaps we could meet up again for another such informal meeting this fall. At the Three Broomsticks during a Hogsmeade weekend, perhaps?"
"Well, in light of everything that's happened," Lily replied, "we haven't actually decided whether to sign either of the boy's permission slips yet..."
"Actually, Lily-Flower, I've been giving it some thought," James interrupted. Something in his voice caught Lily's attention, and she stared at him as he continued. "There will be a heightened security presence in Hogsmeade this year. And we can both make it a point to be at all the Hogsmeade weekends to act as chaperones. I really don't see why we shouldn't allow the boys to enjoy the Hogsmeade experience, do you?"
Lily crooked an eyebrow. They had discussed the matter just the night before, and it had been James who'd voiced the loudest objections, objections he now seemed to have abandoned. James tried unsuccessfully to stand up to his wife's gaze before turning away and coughing softly with an oddly embarrassed look on his face. Lily said nothing but simply studied her husband's face while looking for his usual tells, most of which now seemed to say "there's something stupid I've done that I'm ashamed to tell you about."
One hour earlier, just as the morning's Wizengamot session ended...
"Ah, James," said Cornelius Fudge in a surprisingly upbeat voice. "Well done so far, I think. The morning session went as well as it possibly could have."
Potter agreed. "Yes, a lot of the peers are frightened, but they're not panicking yet."
"Hopefully, that attitude will continue this afternoon once we're discussing solutions instead of just defining the problem." He turned and looked up towards the Gallery. "I say, is that Jim sitting with Draco Malfoy. I hadn't thought them likely to form a friendship."
James followed the Minister's gaze and frowned. "That's my other son, Harry. He's in Slyltherin."
"Ah, of course. So where is young Jim? I'd hoped to speak with him and reassure him that we were doing all we could for his defense."
"He's at home, right now. Lily and I wanted to see how the new security arrangements were working out before we let him come to the Ministry."
"A sensible precaution, I suppose. Here in the heart of downtown London, the Ministry's security is still ... questionable. Still, perhaps I'll get to see him at Hogsmeade this year?"
James hesitated as he wondered why the Minister of Magic was so eager to see Jim. Then, he realized – Fudge was more interested in being seen with Jim than in just seeing him.
"To be honest, Cornelius, Lily and I haven't decided yet about that."
Cornelius leaned in closer to Potter. "James," he said in a softer but more urgent voice. "It is very important that we do everything we can to prevent public panic at this moment. Most of the nation looks up to Jim as an icon. I promise that we'll provide whatever security is needed, but if Jim is afraid to go to Hogsmeade, his peers will be too afraid as well, and that fear will only spread." He took a step closer. "These times call for a firm and resolute response, don't you agree, Chief Auror?"
James couldn't help but notice the subtle emphasis Fudge placed on the title of "Chief Auror," a position to which he'd risen at an impossibly young age thanks to Fudge's patronage. And also a position in which he served at the pleasure of the Minister.
"You raise valid points, Minister Fudge. I will certainly take them under consideration." James said diplomatically.
"See that you do, Chief Auror. I'm sure you'll come to the right decision." With that, Fudge warmly squeezed James's shoulder before turning away to talk to some other officials.
James exhaled slowly as he considered his boss's words. And for the first time since accepting his position, he noticed the sensation of chains constricting all around him.
A supply closet on the Third Floor of the Ministry of Magic
1:30 p.m.
Rita Skeeter was one of the most famous and notorious gossip columnists of her time, with an unique image known to every wizard and witch in Britain who had ever set foot in a bookstore or perused the gossip pages of the Daily Prophet. With her platinum blonde hair, stylish (if somewhat overapplied) makeup, ultra-chic clothes from the best shops, and, of course, her famous jewel-encrusted spectacles, practically everyone knew what Rita Skeeter looked like.
What few people knew, however, was that "Rita Skeeter" was just a pen name.
Every good reporter knows that there are times to make an impression and times that call for discretion. And when Rita wanted to be discreet (well, a discreet human, anyway), she simply changed her clothes, scrubbed off her make-up, ditched the spectacles (which were purely for show anyway), and cancelled the spell that turned her normal mousy-brown hair into platinum blonde curls. Rita Skeeter disappeared, and bland unassuming Margarite Scarabee (Ravenclaw, Class of 1978) took her place. It wasn't that often, because Margarite Scarabee loved being Rita Skeeter, but unfortunately, some of her contacts – in fact, most of her better contacts – preferred not to meet with her when she wore such an infamous mask. Indeed, her very best contact was quite adamant about the matter.
Which explained how the plainly-dressed and utterly forgettable Margarite Scarabee found herself in a storage closet on the third floor of the Ministry of Magic, eating scones and drinking warmish tea with Eleanor Burke, personal secretary to Chief Auror James Potter.
"So they really don't have any clue who's responsible?" Margarite asked. She did not take notes, as Eleanor was insistent that there be no easily verifiable record of their conversations, a sensible precaution in light of the quality of secrets the old witch regularly provided.
"Not a clue," Eleanor said. "The blackboard in Potter's conference room has twenty-seven names of suspects on it, all of them completely speculative." The old witch reached into a pocket and produced a parchment upon which the twenty-seven suspects were written in block printing that left neither a magical signature nor a recognizable handwriting that could be traced to her. "Of course, I've got my own theories, but Chief Potter hasn't asked me for anything more than to fetch the tea."
"Who do you think was behind it?"
Eleanor took a sip of tea. "I have no proof or anything, but I'm leaning towards Tiberius Nott."
Margaret was surprised. "Why him?"
"You recall last summer when someone sent the Boy-Who-Lived a cursed choo-choo train for his birthday that nearly killed him?" The reporter nodded. "That train was one of Erasmus Wilkes' little projects, which means that someone has taken an interest in the Toymaker's works. And by an interesting coincidence, Vera Tessmacher over in records told me that Lord Nott has quietly filed a sealed marriage contract with Wilkes' only surviving family, his daughter ... Amelia or Amanthia or something like that. There's got to be some connection there, and anyway, to take the extreme step of marrying someone so young, he must think that doing so will give him power over the Wilkes estate. I'll wager he knows where a fortune in galleons is hidden. Maybe even a mega-fortune in purified orichalcum, plus Merlin knows what sort of dark objects. Wilkes was known for that, and if Nott is after it, he may have believed that You-Know-Who's inner circle had useful information. Maybe it's because I'm Slytherin, but I can't imagine any reason to risk breaking into Azkaban unless there's a lot of money involved."
"How old is the Wilkes girl?"
"Oh, twelve or so, I should think."
Margarite nearly choked on her tea. "Twelve?! That's obscene! How is that remotely legal?!"
Eleanor shrugged diffidently. "He can officially marry her at that age and thereby gain legal authority over her affairs and whatever is left of the Wilkes estate, which is what I assume he's after." Then, she noticed Margarite's horrified expression. "Oh don't be so squeamish, dear. Arranged marriages, even with startling age differences, have a storied history in the wizarding world. We live for so long that age gaps of twenty or thirty years used to be perfectly normal before all the Mudbloods started whinging about civil rights for minors and other nonsense. So long as he waits until the girl is older to consummate the marriage, assuming he even wants to, I see nothing wrong with Tiberius Nott taking a young girl under his sheltering wing."
Margarita said nothing. Given what she knew of Tiberius "I swear I was under the Imperius" Nott, she thought there were all sorts of things wrong with him sheltering a young girl under his wing. She resolved to look into the proposed Nott-Wilkes nuptials to see if there might be a story to be made out of that sordid affair, one that was both profitable to pursue and not likely to result in her tragic and unlamented demise. Death Eaters got so touchy when one questioned their moral character, after all. For the same reason, she ignored Eleanor Burke's overt bigotry. To be honest, whether she was Rita Skeeter or Margarite Scarabee, she sometimes felt that she preferred to deal with blood purists and other bigots. There was much less chance of her actually developing feelings of friendship with her contacts that might complicate things.
"Dumbledore shut Nott down at one point, as I recall," she said. "Some comment about how we shouldn't judge someone by their relatives that really struck home."
Eleanor nodded sagely. "Nott's father was a Grindelwald supporter. He had enough money and influence to cover it up, but it was an open secret back in the 40's. If the elder Nott had been anything less than Lord of an Ancient and Noble House, he'd have died in Azkaban. But then, the Notts have always been notoriously vile going back generations. They were very into Muggle-hunting back when it was legal. If the little No-Name boy had any sense, he'd have left the country already and counted himself lucky to be free of that shabby lot."
Rita absorbed that. She'd also wondered if there was a story to be had in the tale of Theo No-Name. And if so, was the boy a hero, a victim, or a villain? "Best hold off on that," she thought to herself, "until I find out exactly how that Ultimate Sanction nonsense affects the majority of my readers."
"Okay, that's enough about the Notts," she said. "What can you tell me about Fudge's new Undersecretary?"
"Not much beyond her job description and portfolio. She's Fudge's new advisor on matters pertaining to the Ministry's magical treaty obligations in general and on Hogwarts in particular. Apparently, Cornelius's admiration for Dumbles has begun to cool lately. But I don't know much about the woman in particular, which I find personally vexing, but it appears to be because she's spent the last fifteen years floundering in obscurity rather than actual discretion on her part. If you want me to, I'll make inquiries. Naturally, gossip and innuendo cost extra."
"Of course," the reporter said as she pulled a small bag of galleons from her robe and handed it over to her informant. "I think I'm familiar with your rates by now."
The next chapter will most likely not be uploaded until after the Fourth of July due to problems with my laptop. Which is also why this chapter is both late and fairly short - I wanted to get something out now and this was the closest thing to a logical stopping point without this slipping into the 20k words range and taking another two weeks. On the bright side, the next chapter will definitely have Sirius and possibly Kreacher!