The Daily Prophet

Thursday, August 3rd, 1995

Upheaval in the Minister's Office! Is Fudge on his last legs or is he trimming the fat?

In a press release from the Minister's Office, it has been announced that Dolores Umbridge, who took up the role of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister in May of last year, has been transferred out of the Minister's Office. Umbridge has been a critical figure in Minister Fudge's administration since her appointment and has been credited with many of the changes in policy the Ministry has undertaken in the last fifteen months. Her sudden removal has led some to believe that the Minister is struggling to maintain his grip on power in the face of growing public belief in the claims of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

"We're grateful for the service of Madam Umbridge," reads the Minister's statement, "and wish her all the best in her future endeavours."

The Minister has appointed Percy Weasley, previously of the Department for International Magical Cooperation and Hogwarts Head Boy, as the acting Senior Undersecretary.

"Despite his youth, Mister Weasley has proved himself to be a quick-witted and knowledgeable wizard whose future hard work will make the country proud," said the Ministry statement.

The Prophet has reached out to Madam Umbridge for comment, but has not received an answer to our owls.

"Probably too busy torturing kittens or something," Harry said, when Hermione had finished reading the paper aloud.

"Puppies," dad said. "Umbridge has a thing for cats."

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place with Harry, Hermione and Ginny the day after Harry had arrived. Mum was clearing away the last of the breakfast. Sirius and dad were sitting with them.

"What's the word in the Ministry, Arthur?" Sirius, sitting next to Harry, asked.

Dad polished his glasses before taking a closer look at the paper. "I only got to hear a little bit of the gossip before I left last night," he said. "But nobody knew where Umbridge ended up."

"So, she might be out of the Ministry for good?" Ron asked, sipping at his tea. "Well, it couldn't happen to a more deserving person."

"I'd be cautious when it comes to Dolores Umbridge," dad warned Ron. "Very rarely does she not get what she wants, one way or another. Oh, she'll turn up again, causing trouble, you can count on it. She overdid it this time though. Honestly, she must have been at her wits end. Trying to snap Harry's wand for underage magic? Without even a hearing? If she were anyone else, she'd probably be facing time in Azkaban."

"What was she hoping to achieve?" Hermione asked. "That by painting Harry as some kind of criminal she'd make the public lose trust in him?"

"Or maybe," Ginny said darkly, leaning forward as if she were sharing a dangerous secret. "Maybe she was the one to set the Dementors on him in the first place. Trying to deal with Harry in a more permanent manner. Snapping his wand was just her backup plan."

"That would be a little much, even for Umbridge," dad said, giving Ginny a loving smile. "But then again… this is Umbridge we're talking about…" he shook his head. "Even if she did order it, and that's a big 'if', her order would be buried so far down in the Ministry bureaucracy that it would take decades to find it, even if it would still be there. Meanwhile, you've been officially let off the hook, Harry."

"Well, that's something, I guess," Harry said. "Did they find the two Dementors?"

"No," dad said. "Tonks, the Auror who helped you, and who you met last night, Harry, called in more help from the Auror Office, but they had no luck locating them. What's worse is that she's been 'officially reprimanded' for her behaviour."

"But that's unfair!" Hermione exclaimed. "She did everything right!"

Dad sighed, as he often did when talking about the state of things in the Ministry. "Scrimgeour, who runs the Auror Office is a good Auror and a good man, but he knows how the Ministry works, otherwise he couldn't have risen to his position. He knows that he needs the favour of others in the Ministry so that he can do his job properly. If pressure came down from the Minister's Office, it would be difficult for him to resist it and for a recently qualified Auror, it's not worth wasting political capital to protect her."

"What'll happen to her?" Ron asked.

"With an official reprimand on her, Tonks' career is basically cut off before it can get going. She'll be slowly pushed around the office, losing responsibilities overtime until she's let go. In reality, she'll resign long before they're forced to do so."

"Remind me why we care if Voldemort destroys the Ministry?" Harry asked in a cold voice.

"Because he won't destroy it," Sirius said, "he'll conquer it and turn its bureaucracy to much worse things than bickering and trading favours between departments."

Harry frowned. "Speaking of trading favous. Senior Undersecretary," he said. "I bet Percy's pleased about that."

A sudden silence fell upon them. At the sink, mum froze, soap bubbles dripping front the plate she had been scrubbing.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "I didn't think—"

"It's alright," dad said. "It's a… very prestigious position. We're… very proud of him. Aren't we, Molly?"

At the sink, mum nodded stiffly.

"So," Hermione said, transparently trying to change the subject. "It seems as if the paper is mentioning Harry and the headmaster every other article now. Even they can't deny that the public is starting to believe us. Is there any polling on it?"

"Polling?" Ron asked.

"Opinion polling," Hermione said, but she received a sea of blank looks. "You take a random group of people and ask them if they believe that You Know Who is back. You then extrapolate their responses to the whole country. If fifty percent of the group believes it, then you can presume that fifty percent of the country as a whole does. It's a Muggle thing."

"Well, it's an interesting idea," dad said. "But I don't think the number would be as high as fifty percent."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Sure, I'm just some kid, but surely Dumbledore is more believable."

"You've got to remember that some of the country wants Voldemort to return," Sirius pointed out to Harry, who scowled.

"But more importantly," dad said, "the majority of the country don't want to believe that You Know Who is back."

"That's stupid!" Harry exclaimed. "What, they think that if they ignore him, Voldemort's just going to leave them alone?"

Dad shrugged. "It's just the way that people work sometimes, Harry," he said sadly. "They're not unintelligent or evil, but they don't want or know how to fight a war against dark wizards. That's what the Aurors or people like Dumbledore are for, in their minds."

"Well, I want to fight," Harry said, crossing his arms grumpily.

"I know you do, Harry," Sirius said. "But, just focus on school this year. We don't think Voldemort is going to make any overt moves yet and Dumbledore and the Order are going to lock Hogwarts up tighter than a Niffler's pouch. Nothing should bother you there."

"Famous last words," Ron said.

Ron looked back at what he had written, scowled and started angrily scratching out the last word.

"How many 'S's are in 'necessary'?" he asked out loud.

He and Harry had put off their summer homework long enough and after two weeks of helping restore Grimmauld Place, they were trying to get as much of it out of the way as possible before mum roped them back into reclaiming the dilapidated house. Ginny was sitting with them, but she was trying to complete the daily crossword in the Prophet.

"Fourteen," Hermione said. Naturally, she had finished her homework in the first week off and was currently reading a thirty-year-old copy of Teen Witch Weekly they had found with an unimpressed look.

"Thanks," Ron said, putting quill to parchment before stopping and frowning to himself. "Hang on."

Harry snorted and Hermione giggled.

"Oh, ha ha," Ron said.

"Sorry, Ron," Hermione said, holding a hand over her mouth and trying to stifle her laughter, then she gave him the correct spelling.

Ron continued writing his Charms homework for a few minutes, before looking up suddenly.

"Did you guys feel that?" he asked.

"Feel what?" Harry said, looking around.

"It almost felt like— Fleur!"

Abandoning his homework, Ron went for the door, trying to follow the subtle pull of her Veela allure.

He found her in the kitchen, in the company of Mad-Eye Moody.

"And make sure you're not being followed when you come here," Moody was saying. "I usually apparate two or three times first, then wait on a park bench for twenty minutes or so, just to see if anyone turns up."

Fleur met his mad gaze with an unimpressed look. "I will make sure I'm not being followed."

Moody grumbled, but didn't challenge her further.

"And what are you staring at me for?" Moody asked Ron.

"Sorry," Ron said. "It's just that the last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me."

"You're that Weasley boy, aren't you?" Moody said, both eyes fixed on him. "And how do you know I'm not an imposter now, eh? Didn't think of that, did you?"

"You couldn't be," Ron said confidently, "because of Dumbledore's charm."

"Maybe I found a loophole in the charm," Moody said.

"Well, then you'd get trapped in the trick floorboard by the door."

"There is no trick floorboard by the door," Moody said.

"Ah! See, a Death Eater wouldn't know that, would he?"

Moody glared at him, then barked out a laugh. "Fine. I'll let you tickle your girlfriend's tonsils." He drew his wand and went to the door.

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

"I'm going to put a trick floorboard by the door, of course," he laughed.

Ron gave the man's retreating back a concerned look before turning to Fleur.

"Welcome back to Britain," he said, leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks (a French greeting custom he definitely approved of).

Fleur returned his kisses, but then pulled her cloak more tightly against her, as if she were warding off some terrible chill, despite the warm weather.

"Britain's not that bad," Ron protested. "When did you arrive?"

"About ten minutes ago," Fleur replied. "Zat Moody man was waiting for me in the Ministry Portkey Office and insisted zat we come straight 'ere. I 'aven't even been inside my own flat yet!"

"And here I thought that the imposter was bad enough," Ron said. "At least this one won't try and kill us."

"I wouldn't put it past 'im," she said, giving the door Moody had left through a dark look.

Ron gestured for Fleur to sit down and busied himself making tea.

"Is your new place far from here?" Ron asked.

"Oh?" Fleur grinned. "Planning to come visit me?"

Ron grimaced. "Hardly. Since all the excitement, Mum's got this place locked down tight. She won't let us out unsupervised and she's keeping us so busy with cleaning that we haven't had time to go anywhere anyway. Urgh. How about you? Have you had a good couple of weeks?" he asked.

"Moi?" Fleur asked, an eyebrow raised. "I 'aven't been attacked by Dementors."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, scratching the back of his head. "Well, everyone was okay in the end."

Fleur did not appear impressed with Ron's attitude. "Not through any action of your own. One of these days, you're going to be unlucky," she said. "I've told you multiple times zat you're not allowed to die."

"Technically, it was only my soul that was in danger, not my life."

Fleur pointed her wand at him threateningly.

"Alright! Alright!" Ron said, holding his hands up. "It was just a joke."

Fleur sniffed. "Do you know 'ow to cast the Patronus Charm?" she asked.

"No," Ron said. "I mean, I know some of the theory, but I've never tried." Fleur opened her mouth, but Ron spoke first. "And before you say it, I can't practise magic outside of school."

Fleur grimaced. "Promise me zat you will try when you get to school," she said.

"I promise." Ron handed her a cup of tea.

"Maybe later I can give you some very 'appy memories for your Patronus," Fleur said with a sly smile.

"You know," Ron said nonchalantly, "the more you tease me, the less effect it's going to have. Do you want to help me with my Charms homework?"

Fleur laughed. "One of the advantages of leaving school is zat I never 'ave to do 'omework again."

"Oh, come on! It'll be easy for you."

"And just why can't you do it yourself?" Fleur asked.

"I can do the charms," Ron protested. "It's just writing essays… I can't explain it properly, even when I do understand it. Come on, Harry, Hermione and Ginny are upstairs, too."

"Okay," Fleur said. "But I really must go to my new flat soon. I start work tomorrow and I 'aven't unpacked."

Ron led the way and he suddenly realised how easily he and Fleur had interacted with each other. There had been no hesitation or awkwardness after being separated for two weeks and they had re-entered the rhythm of conversation as if they had never been apart. He also noticed that her allure had wrapped itself around him, not strongly, but closely. He had subconsciously reached out to her allure, in turn.

He knew that they only had a little time before he left with the others for Hogwarts, Fleur would be busy with work and Order business in that time, too, and that it would be a long time until the first Hogsmeade weekend when they would be able to meet. Hermione was in an even worse situation than he was. Krum would be arriving for some of the meetings before they left and would take on more duties for the Order later on, but they were currently in the build-up for a new Quidditch season and Krum was busy practising with his new team. Nor was it considered safe for Hermione to leave the safety of Grimmauld Place, even with Krum to guard her.

Ron almost sent an envious look towards Harry and Ginny, they would be able to see each other as much as they wanted, but Ron quashed the stray thought. If anyone deserved a little happiness during what was to come, it was Harry.

Dear Fleur

How are you? I hope the goblins aren't working you too hard. Do you ever see Bill at work? If so, say hi to him from me.

The first week back here at Hogwarts has been a bit crazy. You remember that Umbridge woman who tried to arrest Harry and snap his wand? It turns out that she's the new Defence professor. This must have been her plan all along.

Our satisfaction that she was kicked out of the Ministry was a bit short-lived. Granted, she's not as bad as the last Defence professor, but seeing as he tried to murder me, I'm not sure that's a fair comparison. And at least Crouch had been informative! Umbridge doesn't let us use magic in lessons at all. Hermione's fretting about OWLs, but Harry is more worried about You Know Who, naturally. He's been really struggling. Umbridge is the epitome of everything that's wrong with the Ministry and she spends every lesson pushing his buttons. He's already got a week's worth of detentions with her.

Now, I know what you're going to say and you shouldn't worry. Me and the others have already found an empty classroom to practise in. I've even given the Patronus Charm a few goes. I've made some pretty impressive shields, according to Harry, but I haven't made a corporeal one, yet.

Quidditch trials are tomorrow. I'm feeling nervous, but I can already hear your voice telling me to do my best.

It's strange, writing to you, instead of talking face to face, everything that is easy to say is much harder to write. I've been thinking about you all week, but it'll be ages until we can actually meet.

I miss you.

Right, I should get back to my homework, Hermione's giving me a disapproving look.

Sincerely,

Yours,

Love,

Ron

P.S. Harry, Hermione and Ginny say 'hi'.

P.P.S. e4. I can't believe I didn't think of it.

Dear Ron

I hope you are well.

Working with the goblins has been difficult, but rewarding. I've already broken curses on two artefacts that had been stumping other wizards and witches for years. Bill is out of the country, on assignment in Greece, for the next few weeks, so I haven't had the chance to talk to him. You could write to him yourself, you realise?

Please be careful regarding Umbridge. I've heard rumours from some of our mutual acquaintances that she's trouble. Forcing herself into Hogwarts caught the headmaster off guard and I don't think that she has played all her cards yet.

I know this letter will reach too late, but good luck with the Quidditch tryouts.

Love,

Fleur

P.S. d5.

Dear Fleur

I got on the team!

It was a close thing, but I managed to guess the correct hoop to guard every time. I could almost hear your voice, cheering me on.

It'll mean that I'll be even more busy, what with Quidditch practice, schoolwork, homework, extra-curricular magic practice with the others, and prefect duties. I haven't had a chance to study the latest games of the European Magical Chess League at all!

Umbridge is still being a pain in the neck. We spend every lesson just reading the textbook. And it's not even a good textbook!

Got to go! Two of the second years are fighting over a Chocolate Frog card.

Love,

Ron

P.S. exd5.

P.P.S. and I can guess that you will play Qxd5, so I'll follow up with Nc3, then you'll probably play Qa5. d4, c6. Bd2, Nf6. Bd3 and then I'm not sure what you'll do next.

Dear Ron,

Well done for getting on the team! Please do be careful, though. I know that Quidditch is hardly more dangerous than any one of half a dozen things you have done before, but even so, Quidditch injuries are no joke.

I don't know how you read my mind so easily from hundreds of miles away, but you were right, you predicted my next four moves perfectly. I'll play Bg4, then Bh5 after you play f3, but I have no idea what you'll play next.

Things at work have settled down and I've entered a rhythm. Bill has returned from Greece with some interesting cursed items which will keep me occupied for the next few weeks.

My new hobbies with our mutual friends are much more dull than I imagined, but I must admit that it is something important that we're doing.

Good luck with your first Quidditch match!

Love,

Fleur

P.S. When is the first visit to the village?

P.P.S. I had the most bizarre thought, just before sending this letter. That you so well predicted my chess moves was impressive, even for your level of chess skill. Then I was looking at some of the items your older brother brought back from Greece, including some taken from a secret chamber hidden under the Temple of Apollo (do you know much about the Oracle of Delphi?), and it got me thinking. You don't have any seer ancestors, do you?

P.P.P.S. and how you managed to predict and save all those Quidditch shots!

Ron put down Fleur's letter, a frown on his face.

Fleur's idea that he might be a seer seemed to have come out of nowhere. There were no seers in his immediate ancestry, but the Weasley's were purebloods, so he was certain that he was descended from seers and probably not too distantly.

Even so, he didn't think that he was getting glimpses at the future during the Quidditch try-outs, he was just… in the zone. He'd certainly missed saves before, even against Fleur during the summer, although he had been pretty distracted then by Fleur… well, being Fleur, he supposed.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Hermione asked, looking up from her Transfiguration essay. "You're making a face."

"It's just…" Ron said, still looking at his letter from Fleur. "It's… here, look at Fleur's postscript." He handed the letter over, thinking it too silly to say Fleur's idea out loud.

Hermione looked at the parchment in her hand. "A seer?" she said sceptically.

"Who is?" Ginny asked, sitting beside them, doing her own homework.

"Ron is, at least, according to Fleur."

"Ron?" Ginny said, equally as sceptically as Hermione had. "What gave her that idea?"

"Ron's Keeper prediction skills, among other things," replied Hermione.

Ginny paused. "That's… an interesting idea. I don't think I've ever heard of a seer Keeper before."

"Oh, come on, Ginny," Hermione said, a disbelieving smile on her lips. "I didn't take you for one who believed all that nonsense."

"What? That seers exist?" Now Ginny was looking at Hermione strangely. "Say what you will about Professor Trelawney, but divination is a real thing. Cassandra Trelawney made dozens of true predictions and look at the centaurs."

Hermione did not look convinced.

"Well, you tell me then!" said Ginny. "Ron chose the right ring out of three, five times in a row. What's the chance of that if it's pure luck?"

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, like she always did when she was concentrating. "One part in three to the fifth power," she was saying under her breath. "So, three, nine, twenty-seven… eighty-one… one in two hundred and forty-three."

"And does that seem likely to you?" Ginny asked.

Hermione frowned. "I'll admit that it is pretty lucky, but I thought Keepers were just reading their opponents."

"Well?" Ginny turned to Ron. "Were you reading your opponents?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, I was just going by intuition."

Ginny turned to give Hermione a triumphant grin, but Hermione wasn't willing to be convinced so easily.

"Hold on," she said. "I've got an idea." She rummaged in her school bag for a moment before withdrawing her coin purse. "Heads or tails, Ron?"

Ron looked at Hermione, feeling a little out on the spot. Hermione was looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, heads."

Hermione flipped a bronze Knut high in the air, went to catch it, bounced it off her palm and, with an embarrassed look, got up off her chair to find it.

"Well?" Ginny asked, while Hermione was on her hands and knees under the table.

"Heads," Hermione admitted. "But that's a fifty-fifty chance! Again, Ron."

"Uh, heads again?"

This time, Hermione caught the coin properly and slammed it on the back of her other hand.

"Heads again."

After that, Hermione got out a fresh sheet of parchment to make a record. After he got ten coin flips in a row correct, less than a one in a thousand chance according to Hermione, she transfigured a six-sided die. Ron did less well with the die, although he still did better than one in six correct guesses, there was something more than pure random chance on his side.

That was when Hermione went to collect a set of playing cards and Ginny went to get Angelina, the Quidditch captain.

Their homework lay forgotten, as Hermione put Ron through increasingly difficult guessing games.

They thought that he had no advantage whatsoever with the playing cards, until Ginny pointed out that he was predicting the correct colour at least, every time.

"How are you doing it, Weasley?" Angelina asked.

"I don't know!" Ron protested. "I always thought that divination was a load of bunk. I'm just… not thinking about it."

"Here," Hermione said, sliding a piece of parchment towards him. "Write down the weather for the rest of the week here. What else can we ask him to predict?"

"When will Umbridge get the sack?" Ginny asked.

"Who will win the Quidditch Cup this year?" added Angelina.

All three of them looked at Ron expectantly and he realised that they actually wanted him to answer them.

"Er, Umbridge will go on… June… fifth? And the Quidditch Cup will go to Gryffindor, of course."

"Right answer," Angelina said.

Ron started guessing at the weather for the next week and writing it down for Hermione.

"Right, I have a request," Angelina said. "Nobody talks about this outside of the Quidditch team and you lot. If Ron really is a… Quidditch seer? Then I don't want the other teams to find out and cry foul." They nodded in agreement. "See you at the next practice, Weasley."

"Here you go, Hermione," Ron said, sliding his weather predictions over to her after Angelina had left. Hermione carefully folded it.

"I'm going to think of some more experiments to run," she said. "I'm not denying that there's something unusual about your predictive ability, but I want to investigate further, okay?"

"Okay."

Ron was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed. A seer? Him?

He was saved by any further self-reflection by Harry coming in through the portrait hole. Only then did Ron realise how late it was, their testing of his hidden potential abilities having taken longer than he had expected.

"There you are, Harry," Ginny said, standing up and hugging him. "Has that woman kept you in detention all this time?! It's almost eleven!"

Harry wasn't hugging Ginny back. "It's fine, Ginny."

"But you have homework to do. You have to sleep!"

"I said it's fine!" Harry snapped. Ginny pulled away from him, anger visible on her face, but Ron could see the hurt hidden underneath. "Sorry," Harry said. "Sorry. I'm just… tired. I'm going to go to bed." He did give Ginny a hug then, but it was brief and he didn't say anything else as he went up to the dorm.

"He did look pale," Hermione said.

"Yeah…" Ginny said, looking towards the stairs where Harry had disappeared.

"Do you want me to thump him for you?" Ron asked.

"Ron!" Hermione said in shock.

"If I wanted anyone thumped, I'd do it myself," Ginny said.

"Nobody should be thumping anyone," Hermione said forcefully. "Come on, we got so distracted by testing Ron, that we've been ignoring our homework."

"Hermione, you've already proofread it four times!" Ron said. "You're already going to get an 'O'."

"Even I could predict that," Ginny said.

Dear Fleur

Well, it seems that you were right. We've been testing it for the last few days, but there's no doubt now.

I, Ron Weasley, am a seer.

A very limited one, with a few seconds of precognition and only capable of picking the right choice out of three or four options, but still.

When it comes to Quidditch, our team captain thinks I could become the greatest Keeper to have ever lived, so long as I keep my head and trust my instincts. She might be over-exaggerating it, but I like our chances against Slytherin.

It's strange, having this rare ability. On the one hand, I'm pleased because this is something special about me (plus it'll be great for Quidditch), but on the other hand, I feel like a cheat, because this is something I didn't have to work towards at all. It's just an ability given to me by fate, not something I can point to that I did.

Oh well.

I actually wanted to ask your advice regarding cursed items. Have you ever heard of a quill that cuts the user and writes with their blood? Umbridge has one and she's forcing Harry to use it during detentions. He doesn't want to complain to the teachers, but I was wondering if you had any advice. Other than just storming her office and driving her out of the school, that is.

Love

Ron

P.S. Ne4, Qb6. Nxf6, gxf6. Ne2

P.P.S. I've just realised that what I wrote about feeling special for something I am, rather than something I did, is exactly what you were trying to tell me about how you feel about your Veela heritage, last year. I understood what you meant before, but I understand it better now. At least I can pretend to not be a seer. You can't pretend to not be beautiful.

P.P.P.S. The next Hogsmeade weekend was announced for the weekend after next, just before I sent this letter. Meet outside the Three Broomsticks at ten?

AN: I'm Lordrowantree on Lichess.