Chapter 8
Grimmauld Place
Snape, mercifully, was gone when Harry reentered the kitchen with Ron. Emmeline Vance, however, was not. She had taken a seat at the long kitchen table, her lavender colored robes a welcome spot of levity in the dark kitchen. Harry realized for the first time that there were no windows in the room and thus, the only light came from the massive wrought iron chandelier laden with dripping yellow candles.
Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the kitchen, preparing large quantities of eggs and toast, piling them onto platters that an old house elf conveyed to the table. Though it didn't speak, Harry could immediately tell that it was a surly little thing, possessing none of Dobby's abundant cheer.
Hermione and Ginny padded into the room shortly after Harry and Ron, both still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Hermione's hair looked rather wild, as though she hadn't had a chance to brush it out before coming for breakfast.
The teenagers piled their plates with food and congregated at the far end of the table, away from the adults, hoping for a chance to speak quietly.
"Have you heard anything from out friend?" Hermione asked in a low voice, between mouthfuls of toast and jam.
"She said she'd help us- she's not happy, mind, but she didn't refuse outright. I'll let you read her letter, and what I wrote out to send back, but not here." Harry glanced furtively around the kitchen. Mr. Royer had appeared from somewhere in the house and Sirius was chatting up Emmeline at the other end of the table. "We'll have to talk in private."
A loud crack! split the air and Mrs. Weasley let out a shrill squawk, dropping a pitcher of lemonade onto the floor where the ceramic jug shattered. The twins had apparated directly into the kitchen behind her, instead of coming down the stairs from their room.
"-unthinking, lazy! It's a flight of stairs! There's absolutely no need to apparate inside a house! Where are your manners? I cannot believe two sons of mine…" Mrs. Weasley's anger seemed to be picking up steam, but the twins didn't seem cowed. If anything, their matching grins grew wider as Mrs. Weasley kept yelling.
"That's about as good of a distraction as we'll get, I reckon," Ginny said, standing up from the table, abandoning her plate. "Let's go upstairs and talk." She swept out of the room in a passable imitation of Fleur, followed by the others. Hermione snatched an unattended copy of the morning Prophet from the table as she passed. Upstairs, they shut themselves into the girl's room and Harry quickly turned over his letters for the girls to read.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Rita's letter, but she nodded thoughtfully while reading Harry's. "I think you are right not to argue with her- it'll probably only make her angrier to try and barter. Do you really think it's a good idea to sass her though?" She gestured to the first two paragraphs of Harry's letter with a skeptical look on her face.
"She wasn't polite to me! I wouldn't want her to think that I'm just agreeing to whatever she wants, I reckon this way she knows we're serious, not scared schoolkids." Harry defended his letter, he was rather proud of how it had come out.
"I for one, like it." Ron volunteered.
"You sound a bit like Malfoy, Harry!" Ginny grinned at him. "'Should you like to do a proper job'. Brilliant! Been taking lessons, have you?" Her tone was joking, but Ron turned a tinge green.
"Shut up Gin! Harry doesn't sound like Malfoy; for one, he's not a slimy git-"
"Actually, I tried to channel him a bit when I was writing it." Harry confessed. Ron's eyes looked like they were about to drop out of their sockets, the way he was ogling Harry. "Malfoy's a git, but he's a wealthy git who's family does quite a bit of shady things, like blackmailing reporters." Harry gave a pointed look at Ron. "I figured it was a bit of a Slytherin plot, so I should act a bit of a Slytherin prat."
Ron looked ready to protest again but Hermione beat him to it.
"I like the letter Harry, and I think that you're right. You need to sound confident. Rita's going to play a big role in getting you back in the public's good graces and she could smell blood in the water from a mile off. Send the letter, with any luck, we could make tomorrow's edition of the Prophet!"
"Speaking of which, let's see what we've got, eh?" Ginny snagged the paper from its place tucked under Hermione's arm and fluffed it out so that everyone could see. Harry shuffled around behind her and leaned over her shoulder to get a look.
Her hair, he realized, smelled pleasantly like vanilla and her dressing gown was soft against his arm where it brushed her back as he leaned. While the thoughts surprised him, Harry found himself enjoying the closeness to Ginny and didn't try to shift away. She certainly didn't seem to mind.
The story that caught his attention was on the inside of the front page, which was wonderfully barren of any mention of his or Dumbledore's names. The headline was a bit sensationalist, but Harry had come to expect nothing less from the Prophet.
Rising Ministry Star named to International Confederation of Wizards' Special Committee
In what has come to the complete surprise of many in England, a political novice has been named to represent England in the ICW's Special Committee investigating the deaths of Cedric Diggory and Bartimus Crouch in May.
Due to the mysterious circumstances of both deaths, which occurred on the grounds of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the presence of international members of the Wizarding World, the ICW has decided to open an investigation into both deaths, as well as the future continuation of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
The Tournament, organized and overseen by Crouch and Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Madam Olympe Maxime of Beauxbatons Academy, and Igor Karakaroff, former headmaster of Durmstrang Institute, who has since disappeared.
Madam Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour were favored amongst the most likely top Ministry officials to represent Britain on the ICW's Special Committee, however the place has been awarded to a young up and comer, Miss Eleanora Holt, a member of the Department of International Magical Cooperation who has previously served as a liaison to France and worked directly under the late Mr. Crouch.
Holt, the eldest daughter of the Noble House of Holt and a graduate of Slytherin House, has raised some eyebrows among Ministry officials. Madam Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister was underwhelmed by the appointment, overseen by Albus Dumbledore. Madam Umbridge said, "While it is refreshing to see the young people getting involved in such important matters, this investigation should have been handled by only those most qualified, who have dedicated years to serving the public. Surely Minister Fudge would have appointed someone far more knowledgeable, had he been in a position to do so."
Miss Holt joins several notable names in the committee including: Cassius Albrecht of Germany, Edgar Barlow of The United States, Marius Courtemanche of France, Aaro Damgaard of the Baltic States and Petrina De Medici of Italy.
The article, surprisingly informative for the Prophet, included a photo of a dark haired young woman standing next to Dumbledore, smiling and waving at the assembled reporters. Bulbs flashed, illuminating the figures more harshly each time a reporter took a picture. Ron gasped.
"That's Percy!" He pulled the paper closer to him and squinted down at the photo. Sure enough, standing just behind the pretty witch, visible only when she turned to the right and her long sleeves swept out of the way, the third eldest Weasley clutched several scrolls and scowled into the flashing lights.
"He worked for Crouch last year, didn't he?" Hermione asked. "He helped with the tournament, and filled in when Mr. Crouch…" She trailed off with a bit of a strained look, remembering the older man's fate.
"I'll bet he's right peeved that he's not getting that spot. It'd be a nice feather in his cap, especially after all that mess with Crouch. Bloody ponce got called in for questioning, blubbered to Mum and Dad about it for weeks." Ron grumbled.
"You'd never know it now, with the way he's been carrying on," Ginny retorted. Harry gave her a questioning glance. She continued, "He's rather taken with Fudge, again. It's more like hero worship really. He and Dad have had several rows about his opinions, erm, about Dumbledore… and you, Harry."
"Percy isn't in the Order?" Harry asked, surprised that he hadn't noticed the other Weasley's absence. "He doesn't believe that Voldemort's back?"
Ron snorted. "The git doesn't believe anything that doesn't come from the Minister's mouth. He thought he was up for a big promotion at work, after all the work he put in to the Tournament. Looks like he was passed over."
"Anyone associated with the Tournament is under scrutiny right now, with Cedric's death, and Karkaroff running off. The Ministry doesn't think that it was You-Know-Who, but they can't ignore that two people died. The Prophet has been running stories about possible cults from Eastern Europe turning out dark wizards for weeks." Hermione's tone had slipped into that of a lecture and Ron made a relieved noise when Mrs. Weasley interrupted, poking her head through the door.
"Dears, meet us up in the library, we're clearing out the curtains on the third floor today, and hopefully we'll be able to the attic this afternoon!" She backed out of the room but left the door cracked.
"It's best not to mention Percy to Mum. She hasn't been able to have a conversation about him without bursting into tears." Ginny glanced at Harry with raised brows. "But we shouldn't keep her waiting, she's probably still miffed with Fred and George."
The four of them trooped out of the room and climbed up the stairs to the only floor that Harry hadn't seen yet. Hermione led them to the second door on the left and pushed it open, revealing a library that had very obviously been expanded using magic.
Heavy velvet curtains in a deep blue hung from golden rods near the ceiling, highlighting the tall windows that Harry was quite sure weren't visible from outside the house. Two walls were overtaken by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and the last wall was home to a massive marble fireplace that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade. A brown leather sofa sat before the hearth and matching armchairs were dotted around the room. Sirius sat at a regal mahogany desk, reclining in the chair with his feet resting on top of several yellowing parchments that still covered the top of the desk. The house elf, whose name Harry still didn't know, crouched near him, glaring and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'blood-traitor bastard'.
Mrs. Weasley stood in front of their group with several buckets, muggle spray bottles filled with bright blue liquid, and rubber gloves. Harry thought it looked like she had raided Aunt Petunia's cleaning closet.
The twins and Mr. Royer had assembled already and Tonks had appeared behind them in the doorway, a hand with talon-like fingernails covering her wide yarn. Mrs. Weasley had assembled quite a team and the library was feeling quite cramped, despite the size of the room.
"All right, you lot!" Mrs. Weasley called, hands planted firmly on her hips. She had the look of a general calling her troops to attention. "Today we are taking care of the doxies in the curtains, scrubbing up the fireplace, emptying drawers and cabinets of anything dark, and dusting the books. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny, you lot will be doing the curtains." Ron let out a loud groan that cut off abruptly when his mother fixed him with a hard glare. "Fred, George, since you are so eager to use magic, you two will be working on the fireplace and dust. Adults," She gazed around at Royer, Tonks, and Sirius. "You will be dealing with the contents of the drawers. Anything dark, we set aside to let Professor Dumbledore see."
Harry followed his friends over to the spray bottles and curiously pulled on his pair of thick yellow gloves. He knew a little about doxies from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, but they didn't seem particularly dangerous, just household pests.
"You want to spray, or catch, Mate?" Ron asked, as he collected a bucket. Harry shrugged and went to work spraying the curtains with one of the bottles Mrs. Weasley distributed to them. Almost immediately, hairy little pixies began to fly from the curtain and straight at Harry. He pumped the trigger on the bottle frantically and as each spurt of blue liquid made contact with one of the doxies, it fell from the air into Ron's waiting bucket.
One of the pests did manage to evade Harry and deliver a sharp bite to his ear lobe, but Mrs. Weasley quickly soothed the itching with a bit of balm from a tin in her apron.
He and Ron fell into an easy rhythm of spraying doxies and catching them in the bucket, though sometimes they had to re-douse the ones who began to wake up. Fred and George quickly finished their tasks of bringing the fire place back to its former shining glory, and banishing the dust and cobwebs that covered the books on the shelves and came over to watch their progress on the massively tall curtains.
Harry was stretching to reach a point about halfway up the blue velvet when he felt his feet lift the ground. He twisted around with a yelp only to find himself floating about four feet from the ground, Fred- though it might have been George- pointing his wand at him with a grin.
"Need a lift, Mate?" The twin asked him, sniggering. Harry laughed too and flailed around gracelessly until he managed to pivot back toward the curtain and began to spray in earnest, chasing out the doxies that had taken refuge closer to the ceiling. A few windows away, Ginny floated toward the ceiling, directed by the other twin's wingardium leviosa charm.
Harry was having great fun with Fred float him about the room, stunning doxies as Ron hurried around below him with the bucket, trying to catch them as they fell from greater heights. He was focused on a section of the curtain about two thirds the way up the wall when a strangled yell broke Fred's concentration, causing him to drop suddenly to the floor, where he landed on his backside.
The cause of the yell was immediately obvious: a massive black snake with seven heads was rearing back, hissing madly at Tonks, who seemed to have fallen backwards in her attempt to jump back from the seven sets of fangs currently barred at her.
Harry rolled to his feet and spoke without thinking, "Stop!" He took several quick steps toward the snake, but it acted as though it hadn't heard him. He tried to speak to the snake again, "Get away from her!"
Sirius yanked Tonks backwards, behind him, and stood with his wand drawn. The reason the snake didn't listen immediately became clear as its shape blurred and began to change. It was a boggart.
Suddenly a body dropped to the floor, lifeless and Harry was caught off guard when he realized that he was staring into his own eyes, the vibrant green dull behind cracked glasses. Harry could only stare at himself in horror.
Sirius gasped behind him and stuttered out a weak Riddikulus. The Harry on the floor jerked once, and blinked. His eyes flashed red and he pushed himself up, rounding squarely on Sirius with a horrible grin stretching across his face. He reached for his left sleeve and pulled it up, revealing an angry looking Dark Mark.
A strangled gasp escaped Sirius. His blue eyes were blown wide and his wand hung limply at his side. The boggart-Harry kept his green eyes fixed on Sirius as it stalked forward, its movements far more graceful than anything that Harry would have been able to achieve himself.
"Riddikulus!" The Boggart twisted forms again as Royer stepped forward. A sphinx took Harry's place, its teeth and claws barred. "Riddikulus!" Royer barked again, and with a sharp crack, the sphinx was reduced to a small kitten, wobbling on legs too weak to support itself. Royer's sharp laughter sent the Boggart flying backwards into the open cupboard at the base of the bookshelves. The door shut with a snap.
No one spoke. Harry's eyes were fixed on Sirius, who was taking ragged breaths, nearly collapsed against the desk.
"I think that's enough for today," Mrs. Weasley said softly. As she ushered everyone from the room, Harry crossed to Sirius and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. His godfather was still for a moment, then lurched toward Harry and swept him into a tight hug as the ragged breaths turned into sobs.
Mrs. Weasley closed the door quietly behind her.