Chapter Thirty-One: Politics

The crowd was more restless than usual. Rufus ran a jaded eye over the pale faces turned towards his platform. Fudge's supporters had grown quiet during their debate; as was the rule, each of the candidates had to participate in at least one open-forum debate before the vote. Fudge's camp had put the date off again and again until they were on the wire. It was November first – they had run out of time.

It was perfect for Rufus.

Their last question had come from his plant in the audience. Just as he had planned.

"What are your views on the temple to all gods?"

The question had been directed for Fudge to answer first. Rufus had watched with much pleasure as the man's face paled, and he began to stutter his way through the answer.

"It – it is, of course, an important topic," Fudge glanced down at his podium. He shuffled together a stack of notes. "Now is not the time for the wizarding world to be divided," his voice gained some strength. He seemed to be reading from a card.

"Tell us something we don't know!" The hecklers had been extraordinarily patient during their debate. It was strange enough to set Rufus' nerves on edge.

"But it's also not the time for us to bring more instability to our world," Fudge frowned and shuffled through the papers once more. "We – we are –," the sound of the shuffling was picked up by the announcement spell. There were titters running through the crowd.

"Thirty seconds, sir," their prompter intoned.

"Yes, yes, of course." Fudge took a deep breath and abandoned his notes. "We are at a time when the wizarding world needs a solid, stable basis, one in which everyone, every witch and wizard, can use to launch their futures from. This temple does little more than promote chaos and insubordination where there needs to be unity and conformity. Thank you."

"Thank you, Minister Fudge. Your response, Mr. Scrimgeour?"

Rufus laid his hands on the edge of the podium. "Chaos and insubordination, eh?" He quirked an eyebrow at the crowd. There was a quiet ripple of laughter. "I don't know about you," he nodded at the crowd. "But when I start to hear the words of conformity coming from my government leaders, I start to get a little uneasy."

There was more laugher, and some shouted agreements from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do have to agree with Minister Fudge on one of his declarations – the wizarding world is at a time when we all need to come together. To hold fast to our traditions, to embrace the changes that are taking place, to face these new developments together and not let them splinter us and divide our ranks."

There was applause. He wetted his lips and waited for the lull.

"The temple to all gods is exactly that, ladies and gentlemen. A temple to all gods," he rose up on his toes and settled back on his heels. "It is not something that is meant to divide us, but to bring us together. This is the unity we need, when all gods have come back to this world." He raised a hand for the spike of hisses from the crowd. "Even you, our muggle-born contingent, can understand this need. Where else will our traditions take hold? Where else will everyone's opinion have a place to be heard? Yes," he met the angry gazes of a few in the front. "Everyone's opinion. Everyone's beliefs. All held as sacred, all held as divine and beautiful."

There was a mixed cheer. Rufus could almost feel the weakening confusion coming from the crowd. Now was the time.

"As such, it gives me great pleasure to announce to you all that the temple to all gods will be built, here, just off Diagon Alley. Gringotts has come forward to offer the land and the creation of a new side alley, all done by their own stonemasons' hands. This is the power that we can have when we come together, ladies and gentlemen. This is the unity the wizarding world needs. I invite you all to the ground breaking ceremony, which will happen right…" He checked is watch with a broad grin. "Now."

Take that, Lucius Malfoy, he thought as he beamed out at the madly cheering crowd. Take that.

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Harry was almost nose to plate when the news hit the great hall.

Draco's choked sound of fury made Harry sit up straight and take notice. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and ducked a stray paper that zinged its way over his head.

"A late edition?" He leaned into Draco. "What happened?"

He blinked at the three-inch headlines. Scrimgeour Breaks Ground at the Temple To All Gods!

"Ah, wait a minute," Harry scratched the back of his head. "Wasn't your father supposed to do that, Draco?"

There was a chilly silence up and down the whole of the Slytherin table. They'd had such a nice celebration the night before too. Pansy had been in her element, using both Ginny and Millicent as assistants through the week. All who had attended had gone down to the lake at sunset to light the floating candles Pansy had specially ordered for the occasion. There had even been a small handful of students from other Houses at the event. Dusk had fallen, the skies clear for once in a week that had been full of storms. All of them had bundled up against the chill in the air. One by one, they had come forward, lighting their candles and setting them off onto the lake. The current had carried them far into the center. The stars had come out, one by one, overhead. It had been a quiet, solemn ritual with little ceremony. Somehow it had made it even more profound.

Later, they'd had a party in the common room. Finger goods and mass bowls of sugary confections had littered almost every available horizontal surface. Games for the younger years had been arranged. Old rituals, half done in jest, were used as love divinations for the coming year. There had been punch and music. Ginny had even been asked to dance by several boys.

"Draco?" He touched the blond on his shoulder, bringing them back to the present.

"Not now," Draco threw the paper aside. "Later, Harry. This is – just…later."

Harry made a face, but nodded. It must be politics, he turned back to his plate with a sigh, appetite gone.

There was a commotion at the Gryffindor table. Dean Thomas was on his feet, shaking the paper in his fist.

"…absolute shit! First we have them doing who knows what sorts of rituals all over the castle and now this!" Dean stabbed a finger at the Slytherin table. "They're leading us all to hell and the lot of you are just going to take it?"

"Hey, now," Seamus spoke up. "My god will be represented there, what's the harm?"

"What's the harm? What's the harm? Are you bloody mad?"

"No, mate, but I think you need to calm down."

"They are exalting other gods, Seamus!" Dean leaned down to shout in the other boy's face. "Our God has something to say about that!"

Seamus wiped a hand over his cheek. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that look.

"You're right, mate. He does have something to say about his believers turning to other gods. But I don't see anywhere in the ten major rules where we have to destroy the other gods, eh? We're supposed to pity them, convert them, but never are we to raise a hand to our neighbors. Did you forget that verse as well, Dean? Do unto others? Or how about the one where we're supposed to turn the other cheek?"

"You'd support them?"

"Of course I support them," Seamus got to his feet. "In case you're bloody blind, Dean, they're the ones who saved us last year, remember that? Might want to keep that in perspective when you start spouting your mouth off." He threw down his napkin and stormed from the hall.

Silence descended over Gryffindor table. After that, Dean Thomas was hustled out of the great hall by some fourth and seventh years Harry could not name.

Harry looked over at Sasha. The girl had been relatively absent when Harry and Draco had time to loiter in their common room.

"Seamus makes a hell of a point," he said to her.

"I know," her smile lit her eyes. "I can't wait to hear him and my cousin debate. It will be lovely."

Harry snickered into his hand to hide his mirth. The last thing he needed was more bad rumors about him and his reaction to the wizarding worlds' politics.

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It seemed as though Harry's mirth had been noted by at least one teacher. Umbridge's class was a particularly unpleasant experience that day; the woman's usually fake smile was gone, and every time she looked in Harry's general direction, there was a fierce scowl was set on her face. They were forced to read from the book of the Bible that day called Deuteronomy. It was rather…repetitive for Harry's tastes.

And rather silly. His pants were a blend of fabrics, and did that mean he was going to hell? When he'd asked Umbridge the question she had screamed for him to be silent and to continue reading out loud for the benefit of the class.

The flurry of coughs when he'd come to the passage about not allowing a witch to live was loud enough to drown out her squawking for them to be silent.

By the time classes had ended, Harry had almost forgotten Draco's rage at the news from lunch.

The Daily Prophet hit the table from a variety of angles. Harry slid into his usual spot, holding his book bag on his lap as though it was a shield.

"This is unacceptable!" Draco had his hands planted on his hips. "Absolutely unacceptable. The man is mad."

"He has to be," the icy rage in Pansy's voice was shocking. "My father went in with yours for the backing to get the land."

"There is no possible way Gringott's had another plot of land available."

"Unless they're offering to annex their subsidiary buildings," Millicent leaned against the back of a chair. "They have that office building off of the clerk's alley."

"But they said they'd create a whole new alley," Draco raked a hand through his hair.

"They can, if they want to blast through that row of shops they own near the bank."

Draco scowled at the table. "Why are they doing this?"

Silence answered him. Harry had a thought.

"Rufus promised them something," he frowned, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to remember the Dursleys' angry conversations about money. "Maybe – hey! Maybe Rufus offered them to increase the interest rates?" He blinked up at the gathered Slytherins. "Gringott's has interest rates, right?"

They all stared at him.

Harry could feel the blush start to spread over his face. "Er, am I wrong?"

"You," Draco pointed a long finger at Harry, "should have been in Slytherin from the beginning." He shook his head and turned to Pansy. "What do you bet Scrimgeour has also allowed the goblins to call in their debts on the pure blood houses – debts only he can negate, if we agree to back him at the election?"

"Hell. Bloody hell."

"Millicent?"

"All ready ahead of you," the girl plunked herself down on the seat next to Harry. "My cousins in France need to hear about this too."

"Hear about what?" Harry felt like he was at a tennis match.

"The goblins in Great Britain have been allowed to up their rates – or whatever – by a political candidate," Draco leaned his hands on the back of the chair. "That means the wizarding currency between countries will be unbalanced. The other goblins will want the same considerations. Damn Scrimgeour. What was he thinking?"

A flurry of activity spun into action around him. Harry kept his head down and tried to keep up. Most of the political talk went right over his head – but he liked seeing Draco's eyes light up and that grin settle onto his face.

The wizarding world won't know what hit them when he enters the stage, Harry ducked his head to hide his grin. It'll be amazing to watch.

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Harry was on the Hogwart's express again, too small for his clothes, his seat, everything.

Ron sat across from him. Harry could hear the whistle of the train, smell the faint whiff of coal-smoke coming in from the open windows. The decimated pile of candy was scattered across the cushions. It was almost exactly as he remembered.

But Ron, sitting across from him, with even that smudge of dirt on his nose, had one eye that was milky-blue, the color leached away and an ugly mass of scars scattered around the dead eye.

"Hello, Harry," Ron's mouth didn't move on one side. Harry drew his legs to his chest, curling his arms tight around them.

"I…this isn't a dream, is it?"

"Yes and no," Ron turned to look out the window, leaving the healthy side of his face in profile.

"Why are you here?"

"I…needed to talk to you."

"Why?"

The redhead sighed, hands twisting around each other in his lap. "The world was easier to understand when everything was black and white."

"The world has never been so easy to understand."

"I know," Ron bowed his head. "I know. I just…there are lots of things I wanted to say and now I'm lost as to where to begin."

Harry tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made it rather difficult. "There's nothing to say, Ron. You've done enough."

"Yeah…I…yeah." Ron's mouth was pressed into a thin, unhappy line. "You're right. I was a total prat, a fool, a – a –,"

"Right git and unsavory bastard. I should have slugged you the moment you tried to get on my case in Diagon Alley." Harry's anger roared to life. "You made my life hell, Ron. You hurt Hermione! You hurt Ginny, Ron. You think some stupid, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, please forgive me' crap speech is going to make it all okay again? It's not – it's not."

"Harry. Harry." Ron's hands were open, palm out, trying to placate him. "I'm not – there's no way you should forgive me."

That caught Harry up short.

Ron let out a harsh sigh and transferred his stare to his hands. "I…just wanted to say it. I'm sorry. There's – there's no way you can – or should – forgive me. Too much happened for that to – to be possible. I just…wanted to say it and to say goodbye."

Harry worked his jaw. "What do you mean, goodbye?"

One shoulder rose and fell. "I wanted – I guess I wanted to make it final."

"Are you…dead?"

"No, no," Ron managed a small laugh. "But as far as the twins are concerned, I'm worse than dead."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not…well, here," he touched his temple. "The spiders…broke something, that's what She says."

"Who?"

"I don't know her name. Just that She is old and She makes the worst of the pain go away."

"A goddess?"

"I think so," he shook his head. "But why she'd help me…She's never answered." Ron let out a long breath. "She was the one who said I needed to come here, to – to talk to you."

Harry flexed his hands. They were starting to cramp from his grip on his legs. "There's nothing we have left to talk about."

"I…yeah." Ron peered up at him through his bangs. "I just – I'm sorry, you know. I'm sorry I was such an idiot. I'm sorry about everything that happened. I'd take it all back in a heartbeat."

Harry's throat felt as dry as the desert. "What's done is done, Ron. I'm where I need to be – should have been from the very start. I know this now."

Ron's face twisted. "The snake's den."

"I'm a Slytherin," Harry uncurled his legs from his chest. "Not some coward or gossip monger."

Ron flinched and dropped his gaze. "Harry…"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I am where I belong. This House, this place, we used to hate and make fun of – they've taken me in, they accepted every part of me. We knew nothing about them and were happy to keep it that way."

"They're all gits, Harry," Ron snorted. "All of their pure-blood crap, the way they used to insult the muggleborns – you think that's just fine now?"

"They're not what they seem," Harry could feel his nails cut into his palms. "Most of it was for show – and yes, some of them don't think well of muggleborns, but they're learning. Which is more than what I can say about you," Harry wanted to get up and pace, but the compartment was too small. "You're not sorry, not really. I don't know what you wanted from this, but enough. Go away." He turned his face from his former friend, the slow churn of his stomach making him unhappy.

"Harry…" He didn't look. He refused to look. "Even – even if you won't believe me, I am sorry. You're right, though, too much has happened for it to have much meaning. So…so just…would you – could you not hate the good times we had? Remember those and forget – forget I'm alive."

Harry blinked and glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye. "That's it?"

"Yeah," a real, small smile was on Ron's face. "Don't – don't tell Ginny, okay? She has said I need to have my own meeting with her. Maybe it'll help Gin, I hope so." Ron sighed again. "There's not much I can do anymore and I screwed up so much already. She says it's the things we learn on each turn of the wheel that's important," he ran a hand over his face. "I hope so."

Ron stood, becoming for one second the young man Harry remembered, his best friend, his best mate, loyal as Harry could ever hope for and not ruined by anything that had happened between them.

"Good bye, Harry," Ron's smile was the grin Harry remembered so well. "Next – next time, we'll work it out better, eh?" He gave a small wave. The dream broke to pieces around Harry, the world going a brilliant white that hurt his eyes.

He woke up choking on a sob, his eyes already feeling puffy and hot. He curled up under the blankets, half-laughing, half-crying at the memories that came, one by one.

By the time morning dawned, the last shard of Harry's grief was put to rest.

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The news was all over the school by the next morning. Ronald Wealsey was released from St. Mungo's. He had been taken home by the family patriarch, Charlie Wealsey and his father, Arthur Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, the papers declared, was still confined to bed after the 'tragedies' of the months before.

Ginny had balled up the paper and set it on fire when she'd read the articles. Her eyes were red and puffy. Harry had an idea as to why.

Draco said nothing, which was so unlike the blond that Harry began to get suspicious. He peered at Draco, studying his face. "You knew about this ahead of time, didn't you?"

Draco began to cough around his bite of muffin. Blaise patted him on the back, while giving Harry a large, wide-eyed look.

"Of course not," Blaise said with a smile.

"Oh, stuff it," Harry pushed at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco pounded his fast against his chest a few times. "We, ah," he wheezed. "Didn't want to upset you? Either of you?"

For a moment, Harry met Ginny's gaze. They both rolled their eyes at the same moment.

"Idiots, the lot of you," Harry turned back to his breakfast with a snort. The rustle of wings above them heralded the approach of the owl post.

A letter dropped down for Ginny – and for Harry. Ginny tore hers open with a breathless gasp. Harry set his aside and concentrated on eating his eggs while they were still warm.

"Father's coming home in two weeks!" Ginny bounced in her seat. Her eyes scanned down over the letter. "He wants to take us to Capri this summer – oh, can you imagine?"

"I hear it's a beautiful island," Pansy smiled at her. "A lot of muggles, at least in one part, but some say that's part of the charm."

"There's beaches and oh!" He glanced up at her exclamation. "There's grottos and the estate has a whole cave complex of our own!" She clutched the letter to her chest. "This summer will be amazing!"

"A cave complex?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes! Where the water comes in under the cliffs and fills in the grottos – Father says they're amazing and we can go swimming in them!"

Harry glanced at Draco. The blond's eyebrows were also raised. "Sounds fascinating," Draco nodded.

Harry made a mental note to talk to Pythia about grottos and see what she had to say about them.

"Aren't you going to open your letter too, Harry?"

"Not now, Gin. I'm too hungry," he flashed her a smile.

"Your appetite has improved."

"Yes, I'm not longer a walking stick," he snagged another muffin from the tray.

"Oh, look at the time!" Ginny began stuffing her books into her bag. It had been the girls' day of manning the Slytherin table early. "I need to speak to Professor McGonagall about my report. See you later!" She was up and gone in a flurry, her cane a soft staccato note as he hurried from the great hall.

"Harry?"

"I'll deal with it later. I really am hungry."

Draco leaned an elbow on the table – which earned him a reproving look from Pansy. "The new potion worked?"

"Best yet," Harry touched his throat. "I can barely feel the scars anymore and I don't get raspy after talking for a while."

"Have you told Severus?"

"I have a meeting with Auror Rayne tonight. I'll tell him then."

"What about the box of stuff Black sent you?"

Harry's laugh inhaled a bit of muffin. A bit of choking and some coughing later, he accepted the napkin shoved his way. "Thanks," he moped at his face. "You should have seen Professor Snape when he opened the box," he managed a breathless laugh.

The letters with Sirius were improving. Harry had needed Draco's help with them at first, not wanting them to sound too fake, too perfect, so Sirius would start to suspect him again.

One of the stipulations Harry and Sirius had worked out was that Fondorn was not to return to the castle. The man could send potions to his heart's content, but Harry knew the game would be over the moment he faced the man. Fooling Sirius would be easier, as he was learning to his heart's regret.

Professor Snape was impossible to fool. He flat out forbid Harry to ingest any of Fondorn's potions. Snape always had Harry take the newest batch to the lab where they would go over them one by one – Snape's vitriolic ire lambasting every attempt the Healer made. Harry always came out of the sessions smiling, even if the Potions Master was in a foul mood after.

As for the actual potions Harry was taking – whomever his Head of House's connections were in the Healer's industry, they knew what they were doing. Between Professor Snape's salves and the potions that came in, Harry was starting to feel almost – almost feel close to normal again.

"Well, let's be off. We've got Defense," Draco made a face. "That Umbridge…I wish father would do something about her."

Harry threw his bag over his shoulder. "How is the mess with the temple?"

Draco made a face. "Can't be moved. Whatever promises Scrimgeour made to the goblins, they were big."

"There's no way your father can get the project back?"

"No," Draco scowled at a giggling group of Hufflepuff first years. They all went quiet with a handful of squeaks.

"We'll figure something out," he told the blond.

"We'd better," was what Draco's mutter sounded like. Harry shook his head and let the matter drop. They had Umbridge to face and that was enough of an ordeal for one day.

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Gwyn ap Nudd watched Erin as she slept. His small child had been having nightmares of late, choosing to sleep later in the day in his bed when she thought he did not know.

The god of Annwn was worried.

He watched her whimper in her sleep, hands curled tight in the bed covers. She relaxed after a moment, the fear on her face retreating back into slumber.

There was something wrong. He could no longer deny that fact. Strange black weeds were starting to force their way into his gardens, his courtyards. The servants complained of them. His lovely, beloved Flower Maiden refused to touch them. His skin became red and puffy after he, or anyone else, touched them.

There was something wrong and the person he needed to speak to was lost, alone in the Dark. None of the others had seen or heard from the Morrigan in weeks.

That just made the worry in his gut grow.

He closed the door with a soft click. He would let Erin sleep a while longer. It would not hurt the child any.

He never heard her murmur, curled in a tight ball under the covers, "Harry?" Nor did he feel the way the room's temperature dropped as the little girl spoke the Dreamer's name.

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"The bloody problem with all these bloody books is that they are all so bloody vague!" Sasha slammed the dusty tome shut with a snarl.

Seamus leaned his chin against his hand. "Go on, keep swearing. It suits you."

She leveled a glare at him. "You are not helping."

"Surely I am. I've got all these books here, don't I?"

"Are you reading them?"

"Of course!"

"Gryffindor."

He cocked a grin at her. "Want to test my knowledge?" He waggled his eyebrows – and then ducked the book that came flying at his head.

The squawk when it hit someone behind him had them both on their feet, hearts thumping in their throats.

Instead, Hermione's form limped out of the shadows and into the study nook. "If Madam Pince caught you doing that…" She said, setting the book down on the table.

"She would never say a thing," Sasha snapped back. "Slytherin pride."

"Of course, of course," Hermione brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"How have you been, Hermione?" Seamus pocketed his wand. He had seen little of the young woman in the dorms – but then again, he wasn't the most popular person in Gryffindor at the moment. He made sure to keep himself scarce.

"Oh, you know," one hand tangled itself in her hair. "I thought I was ready for the OWL exams, but there was so much to go over…" She blinked at them and then shrugged. "I…I didn't have much tine to…you know." She gestured at the space between them.

"We know," Sasha watched her with a blank expression on her face. "We have also been busy."

"Yes…yes."

Seamus exchanged a look with Sasha. "Everything all right there, Hermione?"

"What? Oh, of course," the muggleborn witch shook her head and shot a glance at Sasha. "Though…I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Ask what?"

Hermione glanced between them. "Just…some pureblood tradition…stuff."

"It's not like you to be so vague," Sasha challenged.

"No…you're right."

"What's going on?"

The girl drew a breath. "I can't…I can't talk about it. I'm sorry. It's not bad." She held up her empty hands. "It's just…I can't talk about it. Yet."

Seamus cut another glance at Sasha. She shrugged, but nodded.

The questions were general enough. Pureblood naming rituals was the oddest question of the bunch. When she was gone, her shot stack of inquiries with her, Seamus turned to Sasha.

"What do you make of that?"

The seventh year shook her head. "Odd. I make of that very, very odd. It was nothing about the signals we've been getting, but more…" She drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

"More what?"

"Political."

Seamus felt his eyebrow rise. "Herm and politics?" He considered it. "It could happen."

"Yes, but why…" Sasha was staring at the spot were Hermione had vanished through.

"Why what?"

"You would think that she would start up some club, like she has before. She has always been loud in her opinions. Why the silence now?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I and that bothers me." She shook her head with a sigh. She pushed at the pile of books left on the table. "Every time I think we're getting somewhere, something else pops up in our way."

"We'll figure it out," Seamus tried to be cheerful for her. "After all, there are only so many books in the library, right? We'll run across something," he eyed the piles, feeling his own optimism fade. "Eventually."

He just hoped that eventually would be in time for whatever was going to happen next.

End Chapter Thirty-One