Chapter 6
Schemes
Harry woke to an empty bedroom lit only by the sunshine filtering in through the gauzy yellow curtains at the window. Someone had brought his trunk and Hedwig's cage up to his room while he slept and arranged them on his half of the room. Ron's bed was also neatly made, unusual for the redhead.
Harry was perturbed for a moment, at the thought of someone coming and going from his room so quietly. A moment later, he remembered the convenient existence of house elves and resolved to find out if there was one in residence.
Feeling refreshed after a decent night of sleep without dreams of Cedric's corpse in the graveyard, or long hallways that lead to nowhere, Harry stretched and began his morning routine.
The bathroom across the landing was as lavishly appointed as the rest of the house, though it stayed true to theme and looked as though it hadn't been updated in the last century, if the heavy claw footed tub were any indication.
Having washed himself and brushed his hair down as flat as he could, Harry set off to find the rest of the inhabitants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, firmly ignoring the mirror in the bathroom that recommended a hairstyle more befitting of a young wizard, and not a 'ragamuffin child of the streets'.
When he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his senses were overwhelmed with the scents of a full English breakfast drifting from the kitchen, and the cacophony of voices emanating from the same place.
Ignoring the severed heads of house elves from generations past, Harry entered the kitchen to find it full of people.
Weasleys dominated the room; a quick survey confirmed that seven redheads were in attendance. In addition to the four youngest Harry had talked to last night, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, chatting to their eldest son, Bill. The individual sitting next to Bill, however, took Harry by surprise.
Fleur Delacour occasionally stroked a slender hand down Bill's arm or tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, rarely engaging in conversation with her the Weasley parents, preferring instead to spear small bites of egg to bring up to Bill's mouth.
She rose and smiled at Harry when she caught his gaze. Her robes, while not immodest, showed rather more skin than Harry was used to seeing witches display and left his throat dry.
"'Arry!" She strode over with the same confidence that she had displayed last year at Hogwarts and kissed both of his cheeks, making them redden. Without the Tri-Wizard Tournament labeling her as an opponent, she suddenly seemed much more attractive. "'Ow 'have you been? Eet has not been so long, but already you are in trouble again, oui?"
She held up the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and offered it to Harry. Sure enough, a large picture, a rather unflattering one of him being pulled away from Cedric Diggory's dead body, flashed across the front page of the paper under the headline, Harry Potter's Breaks Statute of Secrecy!
Gritting his teeth, Harry began to read:
Ministry officials confirm that Harry Potter, most notable for his defeat of You-Know-Who as an infant and his recent victory in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, has been dealt an official summons for using magic in the presence of a muggle last evening, violating the centuries old Statute of Secrecy, as well as flouting the laws that restrict underage wizards from using magic outside of educational situations.
The Ministry was unable to provide more detail, however Minister Cornelius Fudge expressed his concern for Mr. Potter saying, "the boy has been under a great deal of stress as of late- the death of his friend Mr. Diggory, still unsolved, and the pressures of fame and the Tri-Wizard Tournament on someone so young. It's exactly the reason we imposed an age limit on the tournament last year- which Mr. Potter chose to undermine. It is regrettable, yet unsurprising, that the boy is unstable. Rest assured, the Ministry has no intention of treating this case any differently because of Mr. Potter's celebrity. No one is above the law!"
This reporter agrees with Minister Fudge; Mr. Potter, age 14, should be bound by the same laws and restrictions that all decent witches and wizards adhere to, rather than flaunting his fame in an attempt to avoid the consequences of his actions, as the young man has a history of doing, according to Hogwarts student and Head Boy, Adrian Pucey, 17.
In his latest publicity stunt, Potter risks not only his own safety, but the safety of the entire wizarding community.
For more on the history of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, see page 14. For further information on the creation of the European Confederation of Wizards, see page 3.
Harry closed his eyes. Really, it was about what he expected, certainly they could have said worse things about him, however the jibe at Cedric's death angered him, as well as Fudge's blatant disregard of evidence that proved that Harry had not entered himself in the tournament.
"Chin up, Dear," Mrs. Weasley chided, scooping a large helping of eggs onto his plate. "It's not as if it's true, is it? Turn the other cheek, I've always said. Everyone here knows that you would never expect to be treated any differently than the next wizard in line!"
"That not the point, Mum! The Prophet is lying! Fudge is lying! And they are calling Harry a liar! And most people don't know Harry like we do-"Ginny was on the verge of an angry rant.
"Dear, it's printed- there really isn't anything we can do now, except write the editor with our thoughts," Mrs. Weasley's tone left little room for argument as she refilled Arthur's glass of juice.
Ginny looked ready to retort but a shake of Hermione's head silenced her. Oddly, Hermione was seated between Fred and George and seemed to be having a whispered conversation with them at the far end of the table. As Harry watched, she grinned up at him and began scribbling on a piece of parchment.
Sirius dropped into a chair across from Harry and gave the newspaper a dirty look, as if it had just complimented his mother.
"It's a gossip rag, Harry. You know that- they rarely print anything based in fact and its controlled by the Ministry- nothing comes out of there without some sort of spin to paint Fudge and his lackeys in a more favorable light! Molly's right though, enough letters to the editor might make them change their tune, or at least get them to back off you. We could even toss out that some bloke over in Ireland, or Latvia or wherever, caught sight of me! That would give them something to talk about!"
Harry cracked a smile at his godfather's offer and began shoveling food into his mouth. As ever, Mrs. Weasley's cooking was heavenly. He told her so, and earned a pinched cheek and a pat on the head for his manners.
Hermione excused herself from the table, saying that she needed to owl her parents to have some books sent from home. She hurried out of the room, parchment clutched in her hand, and ducked under the arm of a new arrival in the doorway.
Conversation halted for a moment as a shockingly colorful young woman strolled through the door with Mrs. Figg in tow. Harry's eyebrows climbed his forehead as the woman, dressed in torn stockings, heavy boots, and a purple t-shirt with the logo of a popular muggle band splashed across it, plopped down in the chair across from him and pulled a plate of eggs and bacon toward her.
She moaned as she ate and her hair, previously bubblegum pink faded to a happy yellow reminiscent of the curtains in Harry's new room.
"Harry, my lovely cousin Nymphadora-"
"Don't call me that, Sirius!"
"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to go by Tonks, only." Sirius finished with a broad grin at Tonks.
"Wotcher," The woman said around a mouthful of eggs. "Refer to me as anything other than Tonks, and I'll hex your toes to your forehead!" She swallowed and smiled at Harry.
He couldn't tell if she was joking or not and decided a polite smile and nod were his safest options. "Nice to meet you, Tonks."
Mrs. Figg sat down at his other side and ignored a pointed glare from Sirius. "I've a list of lawyers for you, dear, for your hearing. My niece recommended three- all with a good history of winning their cases, she assures me," Mrs. Figg slid a thin notebook across the wooden table to Harry.
Before he got a chance to open it, Sirius snatched it up and flicked it open.
"We have a Mr. Alfie Brown, Rupert Halloway, and Barnaby Antar. Well, I've been in prison or on the run for the last twelve years, might not be the best judge of character in this case-" Sirius let out a forced laugh, "Arthur, your take on these gentlemen? We wouldn't want Arabella to take matters into her own hands again- it turned out so well for us last time." Sirius brandished the morning Prophet at her.
Mrs. Figg leveled a cold glare at Sirius and suddenly the kitchen was tense. No one moved until Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.
"Rupert Holloway…. I've heard the name around the Ministry enough. A well-liked man, usually represents wealthier clients, sometimes corporate groups- the Prophet and such." Mr. Weasley pulled a face. "Though, with what has been written about you, Harry, you may not want to seek out a friend of the Ministry- or the Prophet- for help."
"Too right, Arthur! Alfie Brown, or Barnaby Antar?" Sirius asked.
"Mr. Brown, I believe, is the father of your classmate- Lavender, isn't it?" Arthur asked, looking around at his children.
Ginny snorted violently.
"Well then, he's right out- Lavender is the biggest gossip in Hogwarts, next to Pansy Parkinson. The entire world will be in on your case if she's anywhere near it!" Ginny folded her arms, "Who's the last one?"
"Mr. Barnaby Antar, works with the Department of International Magical Cooperation - international law and the like- a good chap I've heard, don't know much about him aside from that," Mr. Weasley looked please to have been able to help and fluffed the paper out in front of him.
"Mr. Antar may be our best choice, if you feel you need legal representation, Harry- you know the Ministry might think it a bit suspicious of you to lawyer up for a simple matter of underage magic-" Sirius began.
Mrs. Figg cut him off with a peal of laughter.
"Rich, coming from you, Sirius Black! 'If you feel you need legal representation'! Need I remind you that you were imprisoned for a crime you didn't commit! For 12 years? A lawyer would have been a great help to you, all those years ago!"
Sirius opened and closed his mouth with a shocked look on his face.
"Well I- no one ever told me… I didn't have a chance to ask for one! I never even had a trial!" Sirius sputtered. He dragged his hands over his face before coming back up and fixing Harry with a hard look.
"Harry? Do you think that you need a lawyer?"
Harry glanced between him, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Figg, finding expectant looks on each of their faces, though he was sure that they expected very different answers. Cautiously, he nodded.
"Alright then, Arabella," Sirius said. "You've made your point. Harry- we'll set up an appointment with Mr. Antar as soon as possible. Remus can do it... I'll contact him now."
Sirius stood from the table and shuffled over to the fireplace, leaving a gob smacked assembly behind him. Mrs. Figg sat back in her seat with a small smile and turned to Tonks, whose hair had gone completely white.
"I love your hair, Dear, it reminds me of an opal necklace my late husband, Richard, gave me for our tenth wedding anniversary!"
With that, conversation slowly returned, prominently lead by Fred and George who had taken to asking Tonks to morph different features of her face until she resembled some sort of hodge-podge creature with a duck's bill, bull's horns and skunk-like hair.
Harry knocked on Hermione and Ginny's bedroom door after excusing himself from breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had waved him away from helping wash up and instead called upon Fleur to help her. The French girl had made a face when she thought no one was looking, but had risen gracefully to help Mrs. Weasley at the sink.
After a beat, Hermione cracked open the door and invited Harry inside what was a much grander bedroom than the one he shared with Ron. A lush white carpet lined the floor in front of a marble fireplace. Two canopy beds dominated the room, one with a light pink comforter, the other's a light blue.
"Your room is much nicer than mine!" Harry exclaimed.
"Fleur came up and helped make it a bit more homey- she did the carpet and the bed frames, and the curtains. Fred and George offered, but Ginny didn't trust them not to turn the carpet into cobwebs or something worse…I think she's trying very hard to get Ginny and Mrs. Weasley to like her. She certainly likes Bill," Hermione explained.
"What's not to like about Fleur?" Harry asked, thinking about the pretty veela's silvery hair and fit physique. She was easily the most attractive woman Harry had ever seen.
Hermione snacked his shoulder.
"Erm- all I mean is that she seems nice?" Harry hoped that would appease the witch opposite him and was relieved when she only crossed her arms, rather than hitting him again.
"Well Bill's Mrs. Weasley's oldest, isn't he? And Ginny's always been the only girl. Fleur's presence is…unexpected. I don't think anyone thought she and Bill were so serious as to have her here all the time."
"Why is she here? The way Sirius and Remus were carrying on, it seemed like the Order is pretty secretive," Harry asked.
"Oh, it is! There really aren't that many people in the Order at all, you've met most of them by now! But her cousin, Mr. Royer? He's a fantastically well-known researcher. He's got a dozen or so spells credited to him! And Harry-" Hermione lowered her voice and her tone became incredibly serious, "Just because our Ministry isn't taking you and Dumbledore seriously about You-Know-Who, there are other governments who are.
"Haven't you been reading the Prophet at all? There's a new international council being set up, though Britain is reluctant to join. It seems that everyone else was disturbed by Cedric's death. Karakaroff has disappeared. You came back from the maze injured and we caught a Death Eater inside of Hogwarts! The French can tell that something is wrong, and Germany is right behind them. Even the United States has taken an interest…"
Harry was surprised. He hadn't been reading the Prophet; he'd gotten tired of the gossip within a week of returning to Privet Drive. Now he regretted it and felt remarkably out of the loop.
"People believe me then?" His own voice was nearly a whisper and he was desperately trying to tamp down on the ray of hope that struggled to blossom in his chest.
"They believe that something is wrong, and that Fudge is an idiot," Hermione said. "You should talk to Mr. Royer when he is here next, he might do a better job of explaining foreign powers and political tensions than I would."
Harry nodded. "I will, thank you Hermione."
"Was there something specific that you wanted, Harry? Beyond mooning over Fleur?" Hermione's voice had lost the serious tone and now bordered on teasing. A pretty smile stretched over her face and Harry absently noticed that her front teeth looked much better proportioned than they had been the last time he saw her.
"No- I wanted to ask if the others had talked to you… about our friend at the Daily Prophet, and Ginny's idea to erm… get ahead of the gossip." Harry scratched his head, suddenly feeling very like this plot was rather brash. It all hinged on Hermione being able to lasso Skeeter with her animagus secret.
"Ron told me this morning before breakfast and I have to say, I was surprised Ginny came up with this, it seems a bit subtle for her, though she has grown up a bit, hasn't she?" Hermione trailed off, looking thoughtful.
"You think it's a bad idea then- too risky?" Harry wasn't sure if he was relieved, or put out. He certainly wanted to be active in the fight against Voldemort, but this didn't feel like fighting Voldemort. This felt like self-promotion.
"Oh no, I absolutely think that we should talk to Rita. It's a good idea, especially after reading that article downstairs!" Hermione scrunched her nose in distaste. "I've already sent off a letter, reminding her that I know some juicy gossip of my own and that she owes us."
She'd already sent a letter? That was a bit quicker than he had anticipated… Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about the entire scenario, it seemed rather Slytherin to him. Though letting the Prophet continue to slander him was absolutely out of the question, the mere thought set Harry on edge. He had made a decision.
"Alright, then. I trust you, Hermione." Harry said after a moment.
Hermione beamed at him again. It was a look Harry found he could get accustomed to.
"Just one thing, Harry- we haven't told any of the adults about this… and we don't really plan to."