Chapter Seventeen: In Which Gryffindor and Slytherin have a Food Fight
"Tairi said Teddy said your father nearly killed Dolores Umbridge!" Vulpecula says in a rush. "Lily, what's up with that? I mean, when I asked Father about her, he just got all awkward and monosyllabic. He did mutter something about an Inquisitorial Squad, but I don't know—it sounds suspicious to me. Why would your father try and murder Dolores Umbridge in front of the entire Wizengamot?"
"I don't know," Eve shrugs. It's just the three of them, her and Luther and Vulpecula, so she drops the French accent. It really is a headache, talking and giggling and shopping with the likes of Sally Simpkins. She sleeps well, though—secure in the knowledge that, even if the Polyjuice Potion wears off, her dyed blonde hair and inability to pronounce the letter 'h' will fool any of her roommates. Except Vulpecula, but that's different.
"Just as well," Luther says. "Wasn't Umbridge a real terror in the war?"
"Yeah," Eve (Lily) says absently. Now that she thinks about it, it is strange, Dad attacking Umbridge—it's true he never liked her; he's always said the white lines on the back of his hand spelling 'I must not tell lies' are his least favorite scar, and he has a lot—but Lily can't see him attacking Umbridge now without additional provocation; unless— "The anonymous letters!" she gasps aloud. "It was her, all along—she tried to kill me!"
"What anonymous letters?" Luther and Vulpecula say dangerously.
Lily blushes. "I've been getting them since before Christmas," she confesses in a small voice. "Until I found the last one, a few days after my death, stuck between a few pages of Quidditch Through the Ages. They're all the same—curses and name-calling, about what I'd expect from the Gryffs except for the anonymous part…"
"Oh, my Dumbledore, I can't believe you didn't tell us! Umbridge sent you awful letters for six months? For Salazar's sake, Lily, we're your best friends!" says Vulpecula, sounding really hurt.
"If we'd known Umbridge was trying to kill you we could have made her take the blame," adds Luther. "Not that I mind Hamilton's squirming; best damn part of the whole scheme, as far as I'm concerned."
"No, no, no," Lily says exasperatedly. "Hamilton's part of Phase Three—Umbridge really took me by surprise, I—" she looks at Vulpecula. "I'm really sorry, V. I just—I didn't know what to do."
"It's okay," Vulpecula says, getting a little teary-eyed and pulling Lily into a hug. "I understand." She pulls back and stares into Lily's temporarily gray eyes. "And if you ever do that again, Lily Luna Potter, you'll wish you'd stayed looking like my cousin for the rest of your life and moved to Antarctica."
Lily laughs shakily, although she knows Vulpecula isn't kidding. "You guys are the best friends I've ever had, or ever will have," she says softly. "Thank you."
The three of them sit in the awkward, affectionate silence for a moment, and then Luther groans. "Oh, save me from the excessive estrogen," he says, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
Lily and Vulpecula kick him in retaliation, and the serious mood lifts.
Elsewhere, the mood is very serious. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, clears his throat nervously. "All in favor of the immediate repeal of the Abolition Act and restatement of Slytherin House?" he asks.
The Wizengamot is silent. First to raise his hand is Edward du Winters, looking tight-lipped and determined. More and more witches and wizards raise their hands. Last of all is Ernie MacMillan, reluctantly.
Looking around, Kingsley raises his own hand. Usually he abstains, but this is serious. Harry would be facing criminal charges right now, except somehow no one quite seems comfortable bringing them against him. Quite apart from his status as the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and the Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter is also Head of the Auror Department and close personal friends with the best Magical Law Consultant Britain has seen in generations.
Besides, in all fairness, he didn't actually kill Dolores Umbridge…
Relieved, Kingsley nods at Maisie Wilkins. She nods back, equally solemn. "Very well," Kingsley says, "Motion passed. Unanimously. Slytherin House is reinstated, effective immediately."
There is a collective sigh—some of it anger and wistful contemplation of what might have been, but most of it relief.
Abolition Act Repealed!
Rowena Wheeler
Earlier this evening, in a stunning and universally applauded move, the Wizengamot voted unanimously to re-establish Slytherin House. Recent difficulties have made the decision a natural one.
The Minister of Magic had this to say: "We deeply regret all that has happened since the Abolition Act was passed. It has become clear that all four Hogwarts Houses are essential to a successful and happy school life, and we are sorry for the disruption. We can only hope that this decision will avert further tragedies, such as the death of Lily Potter. Thank you."
Lily Potter's tragic, accidental death took place in March when Abolition sent overzealous Gryffindors into a storm of fury. Since then, the wisdom of abolishing an entire Hogwarts House has been re-evaluated.
David Brooks told the Prophet, "Slytherin has been part of the school for generations. If my grandparents could put up with it, I don't see what my grandkids are complaining about. I'll sleep a lot better knowing the Slytherins are back where they belong—that school hasn't been safe this year."
Concerned parents have expressed relief that the school is returning to its natural state. Although the move is too late for Lily Potter, we can only hope the Repeal of the Abolition Act will stop any further violence in our school.
Lily, we are deeply sorry.
"YES!" Higgins shouts, punching the air. He stands on top of the Gryffindor House table, one foot in Rich Hamilton's cereal, and pumps a fist toward the air. He's just finished reading Rowena Wheeler's latest article, and he couldn't be happier. "Someone hand me up my glass—" Grinning, Summerby obliges. "Everyone," Higgins shouts, "I'd like to propose a toast—to Slytherin House, newly reinstated!" And he drinks deep.
The Slytherins, scattered at the other three House tables, all grin and raise their glasses, and even a few Gryffindors sip grudgingly. "Anything to get that bloke out of my dormitory," Rich Hamilton is heard to mutter.
Even the teachers look elated. Professor Beaumont is thinking how happy the Sorting Hat will be—sharing an office with him has been a nightmare all year. He doesn't speak, but something about the way he holds his brim and his tip slumps over just tugs on her heartstrings. The poor Hat has been having a hard September, October, November, December, January, February, definitely March, along with them all, April—and now finally May is looking up. She smiles, thinking she ought to step in and tell Terence Higgins to get off the table, but she can't quite bring herself to do it.
Professor Parkinson-Bulstrode is actually grinning; the sight is so hearteningly unexpected that Professor Longbottom is moved to offer his congratulations, almost positive she won't hex him.
Professor Longbourne nods decisively in approval, and even Professor Fenn looks happy. Professor Joshi-Yap has got tears in her eyes, smiling widely.
Only Professor Quirke looks uncomfortable. He still can't believe he hasn't been fired yet—somehow, he's getting the belated impression that High Inquisitors aren't very popular at Hogwarts.
Louis Weasley stands up, points his wand at his throat, and then speaks in a normal voice that carries to the far reaches of the Great Hall. "I'd like to propose a toast," he says. "To Lily Potter—may she rest in peace!"
They drink that, too—all the Slytherins, looking serious, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with some respect, and the Gryffindors again grudgingly. Dana Dursley starts sobbing into her morning pumpkin juice, but Albus Potter just stares at the wall and only wets his lips.
"To us!" shouts Summerby, not to be outdone, "To the Slytherins! To Slytherin's Army!"
It's at this point that the spotlight-loving Gryffindors have had enough. "Oh, shut up," scowls Sally Simpkins.
"Gryffindor's Army!" shouts Johnathon Goldstein, leaping up on the table too. He grabs a breakfast roll and throws it at Summerby, and the food fight begins.
All the Slytherins get up, armed with their choice of breakfast foods, and charge the Gryffindor table, pelting its inhabitants with pumpkin juice and slices of bread. Most of the Gryffindors retaliate, while a few girls from each table get up, shrieking about their hair, what a terrible mess, don't any of you lunatics know how long it takes to get molasses out of your curls?
"'Onestly," Eve Malfoy comments to Colleen Corner from the safety of the doorway to the Entrance Hall, "I zink I will not be staying 'ere—zere is too much chaos."
Colleen nods. "I hear you," she says fervently.
Inwardly, Lily Potter grins.