The Champion's Legacy
Chapter 9: The Last Days of Summer
Author's Note: I hope you are all staying home and staying safe, readers!
Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter.
Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.
Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…
Fudge glanced around at the members; it looked like he was struggling to speak, but something large was lodged in his throat. Finally, he lowered his hand and almost spat out, 'Very well, very well…cleared of all charges.'
'Excellent!' said Mr Greengrass, clapping his hands together. 'Thank you, esteemed members of the Wizengamot. Chief Warlock, Madam Bones, Madam Umbridge, I take my leave.' He gave a little bow in their direction, then said, 'Let's go, Harry.'
Harry sprang to his feet, eager to leave. The reality of the clean verdict was catching up to him, and he was excited to get back to Grimmauld Place and celebrate with the others. Without a backward glance at Fudge, he followed Mr Greengrass out of the courtroom.
Hermione and Mr Weasley were waiting for them outside the courtroom.
'Cleared,' said Harry breathlessly, a broad grin on his face before Hermione could say anything, 'of all charges!'
'Harry, that's wonderful!' squealed Hermione and hugged him. Mr Weasley clapped him on the back jovially.
'Mr Greengrass,' said Harry after extricating himself from Hermione's embrace, 'I can't thank you enough for your help, I –'
'Don't mention it,' said Mr Greengrass with a grin. 'We stepped on a lot of important toes with our arguments in there, Harry. I didn't expect it to go the way it did, but quite frankly…' He sighed, but he was still smiling. 'I don't think I would have wanted it to go any other way.'
Just then, the courtroom door opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out. A few members nodded at Harry, Mr Weasley and Mr Greengrass as they passed, and a few others said, 'Morning, Arthur,' or 'Hello, Jonathan,'. Most of them, however, averted their eyes. Cornelius Fudge was one of the last people to leave the courtroom; he, too, did not look at any of them as he marched past. He was followed by Percy who, like his boss, gave no indication that he had even seen his junior Gryffindors or his father. His back straight and his nose in the air, he walked briskly past them, his arms laden with rolls of parchment and spare quills.
Behind him came a witch Harry had never seen in the courtroom. She looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat, with a broad, flabby face, as much neck as Uncle Vernon, and a wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round, and bulging slightly. She wore a fluffy pink cardigan, a dress that even Aunt Petunia would have considered as boring, and a big black bow on the top of her head; it gave Harry the impression that she was about to catch a large fly with a long, sticky tongue.
'Madam Umbridge,' said Mr Greengrass, bowing slightly to her.
So, this is Umbridge.
Nice fly – erm, bow.
Harry was expecting a croak, and was therefore taken aback by the high-pitched, girlish, fluttery voice that she spoke with.
'Good morning, Mr Greengrass,' she said with a horrible simper that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. 'That was a very impressive argument you presented to have Mr Potter cleared of all charges.'
'Thank you,' said Mr Greengrass politely.
Umbridge smiled at him, revealing pointed teeth. Harry half-expected her to unroll her sticky tongue out to catch an unsuspecting fly. She seemed to be expecting Mr Greengrass to continue, but he did not say anything more. Her eyes slid from Mr Greengrass over Hermione to Harry, giving him what appeared to be an appraising look. Her stare was making him a little uncomfortable, and he felt a sudden rush of dislike that he could not explain even to himself.
A moment later, she looked away towards Mr Weasley, gave him a barely noticeable nod, then sauntered off up the corridor.
'I don't like her,' whispered Hermione once Umbridge had vanished up the staircase.
'Nor do I,' said Harry.
'Not a lot of people are fond of Madam Umbridge,' said Mr Weasley. His voice had an unusually hard tone to it – whether it was from seeing his third son or from his almost non-interaction with Umbridge, Harry could not tell. 'But as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, she holds a lot of sway within the Ministry. And she's used that to get some very questionable laws passed by the Wizengamot.'
'Like what?' asked Hermione.
'Curtailing werewolf rights, for one,' said Mr Weasley grimly. 'She passed a piece of legislation two years ago that made it almost impossible for werewolves to get proper jobs in the wizarding world. She was all for restricting their access to the Wolfsbane Potion too, but thank Merlin, the Wizengamot voted out that part.'
Harry exchanged a shocked look with Hermione.
'She is not one to be trifled with,' said Mr Greengrass. 'Not unless you know her pressure points and weak spots.'
Harry opened his mouth to ask what those weak spots were but was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Bones.
'Thank Merlin, I thought Cornelius might drag that out for the whole day,' she said, looking relieved. She had removed her monocle, and the difference it made to her visage was startling. Without it, she looked a little more welcoming and approachable, though by no means was the intensity of her stare diminished.
'I am curious to understand why he insisted on a full trial for such a simple matter of underage magic,' said Mr Greengrass.
Madam Bones gave him a shrewd look. A moment later, she nodded and said, 'Let's discuss this in my office.'
Five minutes later, the four of them were seated behind Madam Bones' office on the second floor of the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was a simple and unassuming room, with various Auror-related files and papers stacked along the walls. A few newspaper cuttings – evidently from the Prophet, because the photos were moving – were stuck on one wall; the opposite side had a large map of the British Isles taped to it. Her desk, made of a sturdy teakwood, bore a large stack of parchment on one side; the other contained a few framed photos. One was of a little girl with auburn hair, who was waving up at them all. The other was of a large group which looked rather like two families – four adults and three children.
Madam Bones sat down behind her desk and, shifting some rolls of parchment to the side stack, said without preamble, 'Cornelius came into my office last evening and asked for the file for Potter's disciplinary hearing. When I asked him the reason, he said that the Wizengamot would be taking over the case, and that I no longer had sole jurisdiction over it.'
Mr Greengrass frowned slightly. 'Did he say why?'
'I couldn't get a word out of him,' replied Madam Bones. 'After I gave him the file, he flipped through it, gave one of his self-satisfied nods, then ordered me to arrange the file properly and leave it on his assistant's desk before I left the Ministry.'
'No explanation whatsoever?' asked Mr Greengrass.
Madam Bones shook her head. 'It's odd in itself that the Minister would take a personal interest in such a case, but he seemed to have an unusual level of interest in Mr Potter's trial. I caught him murmuring the words, "This should do it," although I have no idea what he meant.'
Mr Greengrass did not respond immediately; Harry saw him staring at the family photo on the desk. After about a minute, he said, 'Do you recall what I said during the trial, Madam Bones?'
Madam Bones looked at him sharply. 'The suo-motu investigation?'
Mr Greengrass nodded.
'I had wondered about that myself,' said Madam Bones. 'After the witness testimony, the first thought that crossed my mind was how the hell did two Dementors end up there, of all places. Little Whinging is so far away from Azkaban, where they should have been. We aren't even using them to hunt for Black, either,' she added.
'So you agree, then?' asked Hermione. 'You think someone sent the Dementors after Harry?'
Madam Bones' eyes glanced at Hermione before responding, 'I…have my suspicions. But I cannot comment on it until an official investigation is undertaken and completed.'
Hermione turned slightly pink but nodded.
'Do you plan on doing it?' asked Mr Weasley.
Madam Bones sighed heavily. 'I can try, but I can't make any promises. My resources are stretched thin as it is. The Wizengamot refuses to increase our budget for hiring and additional Auror equipment. They say there's a lack of funds, but I don't believe a word of that. Lack of funds…' She scoffed. 'St. Mungo's has a new private ward for the Minister, but there's a lack of funds for our defence forces. The nerve of some people…'
No one spoke for a few moments. Then, Mr Greengrass said, 'People like Madam Umbridge?'
Madam Bones frowned. 'The most despicable woman I have ever had the misfortune of working with,' she said rather angrily. 'How she got to be Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, I'll never know. Not one ounce of common decency or kindness in her. Bloody…'
Harry thought it was a good thing that both Mr Greengrass and Madam Bones had placed silencing and locking charms on the office door.
'And now, Cornelius is looking to place her as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.'
What?
'What?'
Harry gaped at Madam Bones in shock. Beside him, Hermione look equally stunned.
'I heard Dumbledore has found it extremely difficult to find a teacher to fill the vacancy,' remarked Mr Greengrass.
'People are afraid of him,' said Madam Bones brusquely. 'They think he's gone off his rocker, with what he's been saying these days. Not a lot of people believe him, either.'
'And do you?'
For the second time in ten minutes, Madam Bones gave Mr Greengrass a long, shrewd, calculating look.
Finally, she asked, 'What's your play, Jonathan?'
Mr Greengrass shook his head, spreading his arms out in front of him as though in surrender. 'No play, Amelia. I'm simply interested to know your views on this.'
Madam Bones' eyes narrowed slightly; it was as though she was scrutinising Mr Greengrass, sizing him up. Harry thought he saw her gaze move towards him quickly, before refocusing on Mr Greengrass.
'I think he's back,' she said at last. 'I believe Mr Potter and Dumbledore are telling the truth.'
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. A powerful feeling of relief and hope swept over him with her words – she didn't think he was a liar, after all.
'Have you tried telling Fudge this?' asked Mr Weasley. 'Surely he would consider your word –'
'My word is just a bit more valuable than Dumbledore's, Arthur, but nothing more,' she said stiffly. 'Cornelius listens only to those people who tell him what he wants to hear. He's too fond of the peace and position he has, he doesn't want anything to upset it.'
Harry recalled Lupin, Sirius, Bill, and Mr Weasley telling him the exact thing after his first dinner at Grimmauld Place.
'So why is he placing Dolores at Hogwarts?' asked Mr Weasley.
Madam Bones looked at him, then her gaze roved over Harry and Hermione.
'Shouldn't they be –' she began, but Mr Greengrass cut across her.
'They can stay, Amelia. They have a right to be informed, especially if Dolores will indeed be teaching at Hogwarts soon.'
Madam Bones shot Mr Greengrass another curious look but said nothing more. She shrugged. 'I'm at a loss as to why she's going there. My instinct tells me she would act as a counter to whatever Dumbledore does – or at least, whatever the Minister thinks he's going to do. Cornelius has some trussed-up idea that Dumbledore is doing this on purpose, so that he can take over the Ministry.'
'So we've heard,' said Mr Weasley grimly.
'But that's ridiculous!' said Harry. 'Didn't Dumbledore turn down the Minister's job like three times already? Why would Fudge think he'd want it now?'
'Of course, it's ridiculous, but Fudge refuses to see reason,' said Madam Bones. 'And with Dolores feeding him one tall tale after the other, he's got a very twisted view of the situation at the moment.'
The relief that Harry had felt just a few minutes earlier seemed to be seeping away, to be replaced by irritation and anger at the Ministry and this Umbridge woman. Even her name made him experience a wave of dislike.
Once again, silence blanketed them for a few minutes. Harry felt a small twinge of hopelessness threaten to spring up within him; he clamped down on it, hard. One day, Fudge would see sense…one day…
'Amelia, if you truly believe that he is back –' began Mr Weasley.
'I do.'
'– then how would you like to help?'
Madam Bones stared at him.
'Help?' she repeated. 'How do you mean, help?'
Mr Weasley looked around the office, as though looking for the right words to say. Mr Greengrass came to his aid.
'Dumbledore has restarted the Order.'
Madam Bones' eyes widened. Almost unconsciously, her hand moved towards the family photo on his desk.
'I know you don't want to associate yourself with it, especially after what happened with Edgar –'
Madam Bones clenched her jaw tightly.
'– but the Order could really use some help from the outside.'
'Again,' said Madam Bones, a bit more forcefully, 'how do you mean, help?'
Mr Weasley and Mr Greengrass looked at each other.
'This, I think, needs to be discussed with Dumbledore.'
Once again, Madam Bones' eyes narrowed as she looked from one man to the other.
'You'd better hope I feel it's worth my time, Arthur and Jonathan.'
After their discussion with Madam Bones, Mr Weasley returned to his office to pick up some papers for Dumbledore, only to be inundated with at least half a dozen inter-office memos telling him about the same regurgitating public toilet in Bethnal Green.
'A regurgitating toilet?' said Hermione in disgust as they trooped out of his extremely small office. 'Why would anyone want to do that?'
'Oh, just Muggle-baiting pranksters,' said Mr Weasley. 'You know how it works –'
'I'm not sure I want to,' said Hermione. Harry thought she looked a little queasy at the thought of such a prank in the first place.
'Yes, well, you get the idea,' said Mr Weasley apologetically. 'It's not so much as repairing the toilet, of course, it's more of catching the idiots who did this. Anti-Muggle pranksters like these represent a fault in our society that runs deeper than just regular pranking –'
He broke off as they entered the lift, which was relatively full. Harry noticed a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face already in the lift; he looked at Mr Weasley and Harry as the lift began to descend from the second floor.
'Morning, Arthur,' said the wizard in a sepulchral voice.
'Hello, Bode,' said Mr Weasley politely.
Bode was surveying Harry unblinkingly; he didn't seem to have noticed Hermione or Mr Greengrass at all. Harry was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, especially since he had the odd feeling he'd seen Bode somewhere before.
They exited at the Atrium. The man named Bode remained in the lift; Harry saw him still staring at him even as the lift descended beyond their sight.
'Who is he?' he asked Mr Weasley, the moment the lift disappeared.
'Who?' said Mr Weasley a little distractedly. 'Oh, that's Broderick Bode, from the Department of Mysteries. He's an Unspeakable.'
'Didn't we see him at the World Cup last year, Mr Weasley?' said Hermione from Mr Weasley's other side.
'That's right.'
And then Harry remembered where he had seen that mournful face before – at the Quidditch World Cup last summer, passing by their tent on the way to the stadium.
"…and that's Bode and Croaker…they're Unspeakables…"
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…"
They walked past the golden gates, past the gilded fireplaces and finally entered the old telephone box. A minute later, they were blinking in the late afternoon sunshine on Tisbury Court.
'What do they do at the Department of Mysteries, Mr Weasley?'
Mr Weasley seemed to freeze for the slightest instant at Harry's question. Harry pretended that he hadn't noticed it.
'Top secret stuff, Harry,' he said. His voice shook a little nervously as he looked around the deserted street. 'Not a lot of people in the Ministry know what they get up to down there.' He glanced at Mr Greengrass behind them. 'Let's get back and tell everyone the good news, shall we? I've got to go to Bethnal Green after that…'
They returned to Grimmauld Place via side-along Apparation – Harry with Mr Greengrass, Hermione with Mr Weasley. Harry's second experience of Apparation was no better than his first – once again, his ears felt like they had followed the rest of his body rather reluctantly, while he recovered from the unnerving sensation of being squeezed through a very small tube. Beside him, Hermione was taking in great gasping breaths as she clutched Mr Weasley's arm.
'A word of advice, Harry,' said Mr Greengrass quietly, as Mr Weasley looked around to check that it was safe to cross the street.
Harry looked up at him inquisitively.
'The Department of Mysteries holds many secrets. Some of them are best left that way.'
Harry frowned at him. What did he mean? 'I don't –'
'When you are ready, you will know,' said Mr Greengrass rather cryptically. And without another word, he took Harry's arm and steered him across the street, following Mr Weasley and Hermione.
'Now, you two,' said Mr Weasley, addressing Harry and Hermione just before they climbed the front steps, 'don't mention anything about the meeting with Madam Bones to anyone, please. Not just yet, especially when we haven't spoken to Dumbledore about it.'
They both nodded, recognising the truth behind his words.
'When is Dumbledore coming for a meeting? Can we be there when you tell him?' asked Harry.
Mr Weasley seemed to consider him for a moment, his wand almost about to tap the front door of Number Twelve.
'Yes,' he said finally. 'Yes, I don't think Dumbledore would mind.'
'That's good,' said Harry, quietly now that they were inside the house. Silently, they moved past the troll leg's umbrella stand, the portrait of Mrs Black, and padded downstairs to the cavernous basement kitchen.
Almost all of the occupants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place were sequestered there; it looked like they were in the midst of preparing lunch. Mrs Weasley was stirring a cauldron over the fire, while heavy knifes were chopping up vegetables and meat of their own accord, supervised by Mrs Greengrass. Ginny and Astoria were chatting away while they collected cutlery from the dresser. Fred, George, and Ron were extracting goblets and plates from the pantry and passing them on to Sirius, who was laying the table along with Daphne.
Everyone ceased their activities as the quartet entered the room. Mrs Weasley straightened up near the fire, looking slightly worried.
'Well?' she asked, a little tremulously.
Harry's eyes roved over all of them, before landing on Daphne: the plate she was holding was a few inches off the table, staring at him expectantly. It looked like she was dangerously close to dropping it.
He could see that she looked worried, more than Mrs Weasley did. Her blue eyes were a little wider than usual, and they were red. Tendrils of her blonde hair had come undone from the clip she was wearing – by Daphne's usual standards, she looked a little dishevelled.
Despite all of that, Harry could not help the affection that gushed up within him for her – for everyone in that room. All of them who stood by him, no matter what. Who believed in him.
My family.
'Cleared of all charges,' he said, looking at Daphne right in the eyes and grinning.
A moment of silence, then –
'YES!'
Fred, George, and Ron let out yells of delight that made Ginny and Astoria jump with surprise, but they didn't care; they were screaming jubilantly as well. Mrs Weasley had dropped her ladle into the cauldron, hurried the length of the room, and was hugging him; Mrs Greengrass was smiling happily, and Sirius was shouting, 'A round of drinks for everyone!'
Harry's eyes sought out Daphne's, and for a moment, they were the only two people in the room.
I'm going back to Hogwarts. With you.
She grinned at him, her eyes bright once more.
I can't wait.
And as they all sat down to lunch, Daphne's hand in his, fingers intertwined, grinning at Fred, George, and Ginny's war chant of 'HE GOT OFF! HE GOT OFF! HE GOT OFF!' while Mrs Weasley shouted at them to keep quiet, he felt lighter than he had all summer.
The next few days were some of the best Harry had spent at Grimmauld Place. Everything seemed to be going so well, he almost did not want the summer holidays to end.
With the hearing finally over and his return to Hogwarts confirmed, Harry threw himself back into his Occlumency lessons with Daphne. Granted, they ended up snogging more often, given their proximity and the privacy that was afforded to them during these lessons, but Harry considered them as a bonus. As it was, Daphne only agreed to kiss him if he was able to improve from the previous lesson, which he almost always did, now that the hearing and his suspension weren't hanging like an albatross around his neck. He was now almost at the point of achieving the state of total calmness of his mind – exactly what Mr Greengrass had instructed him on doing.
To his great delight, he finally managed to reach that state on the Saturday before their return to Hogwarts. Daphne was ecstatic with his progress – apparently, it was exceptionally quick given that he had only been learning for less than a month. She rewarded him with one of their longest snogging sessions yet, breaking apart only when they were in desperate need for air.
'That,' panted Harry, 'was amazing.'
Daphne chuckled and rested her head against his chest. Harry began tracing light circles on her back, making her shiver slightly.
After about a few minutes of this comfort, Daphne said, 'We should probably get started on the next step.'
'Yeah,' said Harry slowly. 'Or…we could just stay like this.'
'Prat,' said Daphne, giggling. 'What will we do about food?'
'We'll just ask Kreacher to get something,' said Harry matter-of-factly. 'Or we'll conjure some. You must know some good food-conjuring spells.'
'You can't conjure food, Harry, it's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration –'
'One of the exceptions to what?'
Daphne giggled again and gave him a soft kiss. 'C'mon,' she said, pulling away from him, 'let's get a move on.'
'Alright,' said Harry, half grumpily. He scowled at her half-heartedly as she chuckled at him, but refocused his attention when she took her seat and began to speak.
'Now, the next step involves building your mental defences. This could be anything you want it to be – it could range from a solid brick wall, to a marshy swamp, to a huge castle, complete with moats, turrets, and towers. It could even be multiple things at the same time.
'Some teachers would expect you to be able to master entering your calm state of mind in the blink of an eye before proceeding to learn this step. On the contrary, Father and I believe that instead of separate steps, there is a greater sense of dexterity and expertise that is achieved if one combines both steps together.'
Harry nodded.
'The objective of the defences is threefold,' continued Daphne, holding up her hand. 'One,' she put up one finger, 'it works as a resistance against anyone who wishes to intrude into your mind. Two,' she raised another finger, 'you could translate that defence into offence, and use it to push the intruder out of your mind.'
'Push him out?' asked Harry.
'End the intrusion, in other words,' clarified Daphne. 'Obviously there is no physical intrusion that takes place when Legiliemency is used, but you will be able to feel a presence within your mind, nevertheless. Once you detect that presence, you can resist its attempts to penetrate your mind, while also working to end the intrusion altogether.'
She hesitated for a moment.
'What is it?' said Harry.
'The third objective is…' she said slowly. 'Well, it's very dangerous. For both people,' she added. 'The intruder, and the defender.' She paused. 'Father told me about it, but he warned me never to practice it. There are some who do, but the risk involved is too much.'
'But what is it?'
She paused once more, took a deep breath, and looked at him. 'Promise me you won't practice it at all?'
He gave her a solemn nod. 'I promise.'
She nodded, more out of self-reassurance than anything. 'Alright. One of the methods of resisting mental penetration is to redirect the intruder somewhere else. This could involve showing them memories and thoughts that are irrelevant or even false, or guiding them to another place within your mind altogether. Either approach could buy you time to throw them out completely.'
'Okay…'
'The third objective of Occlumency is an extension of the second method of resistance. Misdirection, I mean,' she added, spotting his look of confusion. 'You misdirect the intruder into going to someplace else in your mind, but you don't throw them out.'
Harry did not immediately process what she had said. 'You don't throw them out?' he repeated. 'How do you –'
'You guide them to another place within your mind,' said Daphne again, a little more slowly this time; she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, 'and then, you keep them there.'
And then, it finally hit him.
Wait, what?
'As in, imprison them within your own mind?'
Daphne nodded. 'It's horrible to even think about it. Not least because so many things could go wrong in attempting this.'
'But – but –' stammered Harry, still trying to wrap his head around this. 'Are you saying that the intruder remains within your mind, forever?'
'That really depends on how long you want to imprison them for,' said Daphne, 'but yes, in essence, it could be forever.'
'But then…how does that work? What actually happens?'
Daphne shrugged. 'I have no experience in the matter, so what I know is solely from reading about it and from what Father told me, both of which are very brief on the subject. From what I've understood, though, one of two things could happen. Either the intruder loses his mind in the process, because he's effectively imprisoned, or the defender loses his mind since he or she isn't able to contain the intruder's presence effectively enough.'
Harry stared at her.
'That's why we should never ever attempt this,' she said fervently. 'It's fraught with so many complications and unknown factors, no one really knows what could happen. It's essentially a battle of wills within the mind, and that could go anywhere.'
For a couple of minutes, neither of them spoke.
'Let's start building your shield, Harry,' Daphne said at last. 'It'd be good to have something in place before we get back to school.'
Apart from his Occlumency lessons from Daphne, Harry also managed to finish his summer homework from Hogwarts – specifically, the Transfiguration essay which he hadn't been able to complete. Hermione and Daphne also agreed, the former a little half-heartedly, to look over his Potions essay, which rounded off his entire holiday homework a good ten days before their return.
'How did you manage to finish all of it so fast?' grumbled Ron on the Monday evening before their return, as he sat on his bed in their room, poring over his Herbology essay.
'Kept me occupied in Privet Drive,' said Harry with a shrug. 'Not a lot to do except that and…'
He trailed off, his gaze unfocused on the wall opposite him. The conversation with Ron had just reminded him of something – something terribly important. How had he forgotten about this?
Ron hadn't noticed Harry's lapse into stunned silence, intent as he was in looking something up in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. A moment later, he glanced over at Harry.
'What happened to you?'
'I just remembered…' said Harry quietly.
'What? What did you remember?'
But Harry didn't respond; he had already thrown aside Quidditch Through The Ages, leapt out of bed and made a beeline for his trunk in the corner of the room. A moment later, he was rummaging through its haphazardly strewn contents.
'What's going on, Harry?'
At last, Harry located it – the stack of letters and a small notebook that had ended up near the bottom of his trunk. He pulled them out, causing a few of his clothes and books to spill out onto the floor; ignoring this, he straightened up and looked at Ron, who looked quite astonished.
'What in the name of Merlin –'
'We need to talk to Hermione and Daphne,' said Harry urgently. 'Let's go to the library.'
'But what's going on –'
'I'll explain in the library, now come on!'
To his credit, Ron did not ask any further questions; Harry supposed he had been waiting for an excuse to abandon his Herbology essay. They hurried out of the room and bounded down the stairs to the landing below, where Hermione's room was.
Ron knocked on the door. They heard footsteps, then it opened to reveal Hermione. Before either of them could say a word, however, Hermione spoke first.
'No.'
'Are you – what?' asked Ron, nonplussed by her outright refusal. 'What do you mean, no?'
'As in, no, I'm not going to help you with your homework,' said Hermione, her arms folded across her chest. 'You've had almost two whole months to finish it, I'm not going to sit and help you –'
'We're not here for homework, Hermione,' said Harry, cutting across her. 'I need to speak to you three. Privately,' he added, as Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Can we go to the library? And where's Daphne?'
'Right behind you, Harry,' came a voice.
Harry spun around to find Daphne climbing the stairs from the floor below.
'I was in the kitchen with Mother, she and Mrs Weasley needed some help,' she explained. She kissed him on the cheek when she reached the landing. 'What's going on?'
'Let's go to the library,' said Harry, who felt that he'd said the word 'library' too many times in the last two minutes. 'I'll explain there.'
Like Ron, neither of the girls questioned him, but followed him obediently to the Black family library three floors above. It was a large room full of old and dusty books stacked on multiple shelves that ran the length of the room. A book stand was placed right near the entrance – upon it was the book that contained the index of every single book within the room.
The four of them made their way to the left, where a few tables and chairs were located. As they walked, the lamps above them illuminated on their own.
'What's going on, Harry?' asked Daphne again, once they had taken their seats.
In response, Harry laid the stack of letters and the notebook on the table before them.
'What in the –' began Daphne, but she gasped. 'You got them? How many?'
'Around thirty,' said Harry.
'Got what?' said Ron, sounding really agitated now. 'Thirty what? Harry, what the bloody hell –'
Once more, Harry did not respond verbally; instead, he pulled out an envelope at random from the pile of letters and silently handed it to Ron. Daphne snatched up the notebook and began perusing it.
Ron frowned at the envelope. The words 'Harry Potter' had been written in black ink and in capitals. There was no return name or address visible. Next to him, Hermione too was observing the envelope curiously.
'Who sent this to you?' she asked, taking the envelope from Ron.
'Open it,' said Harry.
She did so, pulling out the parchment from within. Ron leaned in to read it along with her.
'Oh my goodness!' exclaimed Hermione.
'Bloody hell!' said Ron.
Harry grinned despite the relative seriousness of the situation. He had imagined his best friends' reactions to these letters once he had started receiving them, and they were spot on.
'That's just – oh, that's horrible, Harry,' said Hermione, covering her mouth as she read through it again. Even Ron looked a little queasy.
'Which one is it – ah,' said Harry, taking the letter from her and reading through it himself. 'Yeah, the Bone Shattering Curse isn't pretty.'
'You don't say,' said Ron shakily.
'Where did you get this from, though?' asked Hermione again. It seemed that her curiosity over these letters and had won over her revulsion towards the gruesome nature of these spells.
'Anonymous senders,' said Harry.
Hermione dropped the letter.
'What?'
Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the envelope in his hand.
'What do you mean, anonymous?' he asked, looking up at Harry.
Harry shrugged. 'That's exactly what it is. I don't know who sent these to me.' He jerked his head towards Daphne. 'She knows, though.'
Three pairs of eyes swivelled to stare expectantly at Daphne, whose nose was still buried in the notebook. After a good while, she looked up and started slightly to see all of them staring at her.
'What?' she asked, a little defensively.
'Who's been sending these letters to me, Daphne?' said Harry.
'And why?' added Ron.
Daphne looked from Harry to Ron to Hermione, then back to Harry.
'Well, isn't the "why" pretty obvious?' she said.
Ron and Hermione said 'No,' but Harry said, 'Yeah. Spells and curses used by Death Eaters,' he added, as the other two looked curiously at them.
'Exactly,' said Daphne. 'A few of my house-mates approached Iris and Adrian after the Third Task. They said they believed Dumbledore about You-Know-Who and wanted to help in any way possible. Iris thought they could give us some inside information about the Death Eaters. You know, spells, curses, jinxes, those kinds of things. Adrian was the one who said they could send the first ones to me, and then directly to you.'
'Why remain anonymous, though?' said Ron. 'You'd think they'd want to let us know who they are, instead of making it look more suspicious, wouldn't you?'
'Oh Ron,' said Hermione, 'isn't it obvious? If they revealed who they were, they might be in trouble from their families or other Death Eaters.'
'Iris told me that Death Eater families were quite strict on the owls that went out from their homes,' said Daphne.
'Okay,' said Harry. 'So, who are these people?' He indicated the notebook in her hands, where he had recorded the initials of those senders who had given them in the letters.
'Well, most of them are my housemates,' said Daphne, looking down at the notebook once again. 'For instance…M.E.B. is Millicent Elizabeth Bulstrode.'
'Bulstrode?' repeated Harry and Ron in surprise.
'Yeah,' said Daphne a little sadly. 'Poor thing. Her father is a big supporter of You-Know-Who, but she doesn't want any part in it. Her mum died when she was eight – some say her dad did it because of some argument or something. He's very fanatical about this, and she hates it. She's always telling Tracey and me about how she can't wait to get out of her house once she's seventeen.'
'That's horrible,' said Hermione. Daphne nodded sadly.
'I always thought the Death Eater families liked supporting You-Know-Who,' said Ron.
'Not all of them do,' said Daphne. 'Look at Iris. Her father was a Death Eater before, but she doesn't want anything to do with You-Know-Who at all. Especially not after…Cassius,' she said haltingly, glancing at Harry.
Harry gave her a wan smile. 'I'm okay. I still miss him, but I'm a lot better now.'
'We all do,' said Hermione.
'I think Iris would really like that,' said Daphne with a small smile.
'Speaking of Iris,' said Ron, 'do you have any idea where she is, Daphne?'
Daphne shook her head; Harry was temporarily distracted by a single blonde curl that swayed in the air as she did so. 'Harry told me you'd last heard from her a month ago, which was around the same time I heard from her as well. I've got nothing since then.' Her eyes widened in alarm as she looked between the three Gryffindors. 'Why, what's happened?'
'Ron hasn't heard from her either,' said Harry. 'And neither Adrian nor Terence is reachable.'
'And I didn't hear about this until three weeks ago,' said Hermione rather crossly.
Daphne chuckled at the grumpy expression on Hermione's face. 'Yes, Tracey was a bit ticked off as well when I told her. I thought all of us knew,' she added to Ron and Harry. 'Didn't Adrian or Terence tell them?'
'I don't know,' said Ron with a shrug. 'And it doesn't matter now, anyway. We've asked Dobby to find out where they are, but…' He trailed off.
'Who's Dobby?' asked Daphne curiously.
'House-elf,' said Harry rather unhelpfully. 'And I told you guys,' he said to Ron and Hermione, 'Dobby's been gone for far too long. I'm worried that something's happened to him.'
'Do you want to call him back?' suggested Hermione. 'He'd probably come if you called.'
'But…' he hesitated. 'What if he's onto something, and I ruin it by calling him back?'
None of them could respond to that satisfactorily. Silence fell over the group as they tried to imagine what could have possibly happened to delay Dobby for this long.
'He'll come back,' said Ron finally, rather confidently. 'Also, you did tell him not to be seen by anyone or to attract attention to himself. I don't think Dobby would disobey those instructions, Harry, don't worry.'
Harry nodded, but he still felt quite apprehensive. As much as he knew Dobby wouldn't go against his instructions, like Ron said, a small part of him worried if something more sinister had happened to the elf. Had he been caught unawares by Death Eaters? Were they holding him captive, in a place from which he could not Disapparate? Or – and Harry's stomach turned over at the thought – had he found their friends, but they weren't –
No, he told himself. Dobby is going to find them and come back to tell us the good news. Don't think about the alternative.
He gave himself a mental shake just as Ron's stomach rumbled loudly.
'I'm starving,' announced Ron quite unnecessarily. He checked his watch. 'Blimey, it's almost dinner time! Let's go!'
'Wait,' said Hermione, as Ron stretched languidly in his chair and made to stand up. 'Is that why you called us up here, Harry? To show us these letters?'
'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I'd actually forgotten about them, to be honest. Ron's comment reminded me, actually.'
'I did?' said Ron, looking surprised. He frowned slightly as he tried to remember what he'd said, then his face fell. 'I've still got that Herbology essay left, bloody hell.'
Hermione's expression turned stern and disapproving in an instant. 'Well, like I said, you did have almost two months to finish it.'
'Yeah, well, we were pre-occupied with cleaning out this house, weren't we?' Ron fired back.
Harry cut across them before Hermione could retort. 'You two can have a go at each other later,' he said. 'Daphne,' he added, turning to her and ignoring Hermione's outraged expression, 'who is S.M.?'
'S.M.?' she replied, giving him a confused look.
Harry shuffled through the stack of envelopes on the table, finally extracting the second letter he had received that day along with Millicent Bulstrode's letter detailing the Entrail Expelling Curse. He slid the letter out of the envelope and handed it to Daphne, who smiled tremulously as she read through it.
'Oh, Sophie…' she whispered.
Harry didn't have a clue who this Sophie was; nor, it seemed, did Ron or Hermione. He was about to ask Daphne about it again when she spoke, a little louder this time.
'S.M. stands for Sophie Moreau,' she said. 'She was Cassius' girlfriend until his fifth year Christmas holidays. She was in Beauxbatons until then, but she transferred to Ilvermony after that.'
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, but refrained from saying anything.
'I don't know the full story behind their separation, but I think Iris does. I do know that Cassius' father was involved in it, though.' She shrugged. 'Anyway, she wrote to Iris before school ended – although I don't know how she found out about Iris – and Iris told me about it. We've been in touch since then.'
Harry nodded. It made sense to him, at any rate. Ron still look slightly puzzled, but Hermione seemed to be in her inquisitive mode.
'How is she going to help us if she's in Ilvermony?'
Harry frowned as he realised what Hermione's question meant; he hadn't thought of that.
'She's moved back to England, or so she says,' said Daphne. 'As for helping us, she's bound to have loads of contacts from Beauxbatons and Ilvermony who could help our cause, isn't she? She could spread the word across the continent and in America, too.'
'Yes, but –' began Hermione, but Daphne shook her head.
'I don't know a lot of details, Hermione,' she admitted. 'She asked me for Harry's address to thank him, and I gave it to her. We'll need to talk to Iris if we need more information about her.'
'Or we could ask her directly,' Ron pointed out. 'She said to ask you if we wanted to reach her, didn't she? Do you have her address, then?'
Daphne frowned slightly. 'There's no fixed address, to be honest. She gave me a parchment that would display her address at that time whenever we needed it – we just have to say the passphrase to activate it. And no, I don't know how she got that to work,' she added to Hermione, who looked slightly crestfallen.
'We'll write to her,' said Harry. 'At least, I'll write to her. I think she could help the Order with her contacts and resources, if Dumbledore needs them.'
'Good thinking!' said Ron appreciatively. 'I bet Dumbledore would love that information.'
'In fact,' said Harry, looking between the envelopes on the table and the notebook in Daphne's hand, 'I want to show these to Dumbledore in the next Order meeting.'
Daphne looked surprised. 'Are you sure, Harry?'
'Absolutely,' said Harry in a tone of conviction. 'I can't do anything with it, can I? Might as well give it to someone who can.'
Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.
'Plus, this gives us leverage to find out about the Department of Mysteries.'
Three pairs of eyes stared at him this time, except they all looked blank.
'The Department of Mysteries?' repeated Ron. 'Why do you want to know about them?'
'Because,' said Harry slowly, 'I think they have the weapon that Voldemort's looking for.'
To be continued…
