Harry and the Pirates
Chapter 78
School Resumes, with Surprises
"Well, we dodged a bullet on that one, I think," said Dudley, relaxing in his seat on the Hogwarts Express. He held up a copy of the Daily Prophet. "We weren't mentioned by name, and the Prophet was careful to blank out our faces in the pictures they took from the Quidditch World Cup."
"Let me see," Harry said, taking the paper. Sure enough, the Prophet had been careful not to mention any of his friends' names, and their faces were not visible. The Death Eaters, on the other hand, were fully recognizable, and their names appeared under their pictures. "I'd guess that our dear friends have some 'splainin' to do!" He grinned rather nastily. "Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of scumbags!"
"If they end up in trouble, or spending time in Azkaban, they brought it on themselves," Dudley opined. Beside him, Luna snuggled up close, a contented look on her face. "Every one of those scumbags who's out of circulation is one fewer we need to worry about!"
Hermione and Ron and Ginny came in. "And, now, the band's back together!" Harry said. Hermione and Dudley smiled at the reference, but the purebloods looked slightly puzzled. "I'll explain later. It's a reference to something we've seen in Muggle movies and TV shows." The purebloods accepted this calmly. They knew that Harry kept his word about explanations, and was generally able to make things clear. Ginny had commented that he'd make a good teacher.
The friends got out snacks and drinks, and prepared for the long train ride North. Outside, the sun was shining down, and Harry felt a moment's homesickness for tropical Roanapur. He missed his Aunt Petunia, and Balalaika, and their other friends and acquaintances there.
"I'd love to show Aunt Petunia and Balalaika around Hogwarts," he remarked. "Pity it's not possible."
"Damn the Statute of Secrecy!" snarled Dudley. "I mean, honestly! This isn't the seventeenth century! I'd bet that if we were allowed to show ourselves, we could all be rolling in wealth! The things we can do, people would pay good money for!"
"I think Muggles would love to see real live dragons," Hermione said. "Of course, there'd have to be precautions taken. Muggle zoos have trouble with idiots who think that climbing into the cages is cool." She grinned impishly. "My own take is that anybody fool enough to climb into a cage with lions, polar bears or other such creatures is someone we're better off without."
Everybody in the compartment agreed. Slytherin did not encourage tolerance of fools. Fools who came to bad ends through their own foolishness got no sympathy.
And, speaking of fools...the compartment door opened and Draco Malfoy poked his head in. "Excuse me? Have any of you two seen Crabbe or Goyle?"
Since Draco was being perfectly polite, Harry reciprocated. "No, Draco. We haven't seen them. Weren't they with you at Platform 9¾?" Inwardly, Harry was surprised. He had seldom or never seen Draco without his two companions. Since he and Dudley had both read the "Budayeen" books of George Alec Effinger, they had dubbed the two "the Stones that Speak." Once the joke had been explained to his inner circle, they had all taken up the term, although they were careful not to use it where others...Crabbe and Goyle in particular...could hear it. While they weren't the brightest Lumos in the wand, they were loyal, at least to Draco. And that counted for a lot with the boys from Roanapur.
In their time in Roanapur, Harry and Dudley had come to abhor disloyalty. One source of Balalaika's great strength as leader of Hotel Moscow was the fact that her men were completely loyal and trustworthy. Any of them would lay down their lives for their comrades or their Kapitan without a second thought, and count the loss well worth it if it saved the others.
Balalaika evoked this in her men by reciprocating it fully. If any of her men got into trouble, he could count on Balalaika doing all she could, up to putting herself into personal danger, to extricate him. Or avenge him. Harry thought that the terrible twins from Romania had no idea of how very fortunate they had been to have Luna be the one to claim them as captives. Had they fallen alive into Balalaika's hands, Harry thought that Balalaika would have made examples of them, young as they were, that would have made Jack the Ripper and Charles Manson throw up.
In any case, neither Harry nor any of his friends knew what had become of Crabbe and Goyle. After receiving reassurances on that point, Draco shut the compartment door and left, with a worried look on his face. Harry sat back down, puzzling about this anomaly. This was a departure from the usual pattern, and he had long learned to distrust any such thing. In Roanapur and at Hogwarts, departures from standard pattern usually presaged danger.
"Do you think anything could have happened to them?" asked Dudley. "Were any of their kin among those swine we exposed at the World Cup?"
Hermione looked at the article in the Daily Prophet. "If so, they weren't named in this article."
"Which does not mean that they weren't implicated," Ginny pointed out. "The people we captured had to have been questioned, and if the Crabbes or Goyles had been involved behind-the-scenes, they could have been named and pulled in." Both of Draco's bodyguards were more than old enough for the authorities to have detained them for questioning. During the previous rebellion led by Voldemort, some of his most insidious agents had been as young as Harry and his friends now were.
"Well, I don't know, and frankly, although he's been on our side before, I don't care that much about Draco Malfoy or his sidekicks," Ron drawled. He pulled out a travelers' chess set and a chess magazine. "It's a while till we get to Hogwarts, so why don't we just relax? I'm sure all will be made clear when we get there."
"At least this year there won't be Dementors!" This observation from Hermione met with general approval, and the friends settled back for the trip to Scotland. Watching the now-familiar scenery flash past, Harry hoped for a peaceful year, for a change.
But there was a nagging feeling that he couldn't get rid of. It told him that trouble was on the way. He figured that as long as Lord Voldemort wasn't completely gone, he'd have that feeling.
When they debarked at Hogwarts, all was familiar. Hagrid was gathering in the first-years, and Harry smiled to see how some of them went right up to the big man, while others held back, shy or fearful. Harry figured that the ones who weren't afraid had had relatives or family friends who'd gone to Hogwarts, who had told them to expect Hagrid and not to fear him.
If Hagrid hadn't been such a gentle soul, Harry knew people in Roanapur who'd have offered him huge salaries to work for them. Between his intimidating size and his apparent near-invulnerability to harm, he'd be valuable to have around for any of the criminal gangs. But Hagrid was too sweet-natured and easily-conned to do well in the pirate port. He'd be easy meat for anybody with the wit to manipulate him.
Going on into the school, Harry and his friends soon found themselves seated in their usual places at the Slytherin table. Up at the faculty table, Harry spotted Professor Snape, and they exchanged wary nods. Knowing as he now did why Snape had not warmed to him at first made dealing with him easier. There was one empty chair at the faculty table, and Harry figured it would be for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Wonder what they'll do this time?" Harry muttered to Dudley.
"It'll be hard for them to top last year," Dudley answered, just as quietly. Both boys laughed. Since the exchange had been in Russian, only Hermione had understood, and she snickered.
"So how is Mr. Lupin getting on?" she asked. "He sent me a very nice postcard from Thailand. Have you heard how he's doing?" Since that had been in English, everybody present understood. Many of their classmates cocked an ear to hear what the boys from Roanapur would say.
"Mr. Lupin's doing well, and settling in nicely. He and Mr. Black have opened a business, and my brother Percy's working for...and with...them." Ron smiled broadly, pleased at his brother's success. "They're doing excellent business. They charge high prices for their services, but they've got clientele lined up outside their door, all but begging to throw money at them."
"He has a very sturdy cage he spends the nights of the full moon in, and a supply of his potion to keep him sane. He sent Professor Snape clippings of the hair he grows at that time, to see if they're of any use in new potions. As far as I know, there aren't any potions now that call for werewolf hair, but if there's a use for them, I bet our professor will be the one to discover them!" Harry had been surprised at Lupin's gift, and looked forward to seeing Snape's face when he got it. While Harry knew that Snape still disliked and distrusted Lupin for having been a Marauder and one of his chief tormentors at school, Harry knew that his love of potions and desire to discover new and previously unknown brews would prevail.
After the Sorting, during which, to Harry's relief, nobody hissed at the new Slytherins, Dumbledore got up to give his usual talk. After his usual warm welcome, and warnings about activities and toys that were forbidden, he segued into something Harry hadn't expected.
"This year, we will not be having our usual Quidditch matches." At this, a loud groan of disappointment went up around the room. Even Harry and his friends joined in. While they were not as insanely enthusiastic about Quidditch as many of their schoolmates, they enjoyed watching, or playing when occasion offered. And Harry had had some ideas about setting up a betting book, using Hermione's gift for numbers and Ron's knowledge of the game to make PD Enterprises some more money.
"No, no, this does not mean the game is forbidden. Practice matches and friendly matches will go on as usual. Instead, our school shall have the great honour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament."
A gasp went up from the students' tables. Harry glanced at Hermione. She was their resident "facts" person and could be relied on to know what in the world Dumbledore was waffling on about this time. At the sight of her expression, he felt a cold chill. She was white as a sheet and holding her hand to her mouth, almost as though she were about to sick up. Suddenly, he was worried. He wanted to find out what had upset her so.
Dumbledore went on: "Accordingly, we will be hosting delegations from the other two preeminent schools of magic on the European continent. The delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be arriving in a couple of weeks, and we will, of course, extend to them a warm welcome."
At this, applause started. Many of the boys at the Slytherin table began speculating among themselves about "those French totties from Beauxbatons," and whether they'd be amenable to approaches from British boys. The girls sniffed audibly at this sort of thing, but were soon deep in discussion of what sort of boys went to the foreign schools, and planning how they would make themselves over so as to attract the maximum of masculine attention.
Harry grinned to himself. Roanapur, Singapore, Hogwarts...people were the same where ever he went. That, he decided, was one big advantage of an international upbringing. He had been shocked sometimes at how provincial some of his schoolmates were. As far as Harry knew, he and Dudley were the only students in the school who had ever traveled beyond Europe. Even Cho Chang and Su Li and the Patel twins had been born in Britain.
Harry was wondering about the foreign students, and speculating about their origins, when Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke up again. He put his thoughts aside and listened up. He had learned that while Dumbledore seemed, on the surface, to be a pleasantly dotty old coot, he never spoke without a point to it.
"And I would like to extend a warm welcome to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a man I have known for years. Students, please welcome Professor Alastor Moody!" The doors at the far end of the Great Hall suddenly opened with a loud bang, and a strange, ominous figure limped in.
Harry instinctively alerted, and he could tell that Dudley was also on high alert. As the new professor limped down to join his colleagues at the High Table, Harry noted that many of his House mates were visibly frightened. He wondered why that would be. As far as he knew, they had no particular reason to fear a new Defence professor. He made a mental note to ask around when they got to their common room.
Once he arrived at the front of the room, Professor Moody turned to face the students. Harry was startled to see that he was not only missing a leg, accounting for the limp, but had an artificial eye of some sort. The artificial eye seemed to be independent of his real one, moving on its own. The whole effect was, he had to admit, very unnerving. As he surveyed the Great Hall, silence fell. Even Harry was uncomfortable under that stare.
"Hermione," he asked in Russian, in a low voice, "what is with this character? Everybody is acting like he's Darth Vader!" Part of him, the mischevious part that loved puncturing pomp, wanted to softly hum or whistle the "Imperial March" from the Star Wars movies.
Hermione muttered, in Russian: "He's a well-known Auror. He got those injuries...and others we can't see as easily...fighting Death Eaters. He was a real hard-liner on Death Eaters and anybody following You-Know-Who. That's why our House mates are so frightened. Many of their relatives are in Azkaban because of him. If they've been up to Dark Magic, he might well get on their trails in their own turn."
"Is that so," Harry said, filing that fact away in his mind for later contemplation. "If nothing else, an ex-Auror will insure that we get competent Defence training. Even with what Mr. Lupin was able to do, we're behind where I think we need to be. It's a dangerous world out there. Two years with the Squirrel and Mr. Perfect didn't do us any good."
"True enough," Hermione said, with a scowl. "I hope we can get up to speed. And I wonder how much we can make with running a betting book on this Tri-Wizard thingy?"
"Would you two either cork it, or speak English?" snapped Daphne Greengrass. "It's rather rude, barbering on in a language none of the rest of us except Dudley know!"
"Oh. Sorry. Corking it." With that, Harry sat back and prepared to apply himself to the feast that suddenly appeared on their tables.
Over the next few days, the main topic of discussion was the Triwizard Tournament. Draco, who had been reunited with his bodyguards, was at pains to explain it in detail to the others in the Slytherin common room.
"So you see, there's this magical artifact, the Goblet of Fire. People wanting to enter put their names into it on slips of parchment. When it's time to choose, the Goblet spits out the names of those who will be competing. Entering one's name constitutes agreeing to a magical contract. If one of those chosen refuses to compete in any of the tasks, he or she loses all his magic and becomes…" Draco's voice dropped… "a Squib!"
Everybody shuddered at that idea. Even Muggle-born Dudley and Hermione disliked it intensely. By that time, they had become quite accustomed to magic, although they generally could not use it on school holidays in Britain or Europe (Roanapur, of course, was a different story) and regarded the idea of losing their magical abilities the way they would have the idea of losing a limb or their sight.
"So how many competitors are there going to be, do you know?" Hermione's tone was casual, but she had had some discussions with the others in PD Enterprises. The more she knew about how this crazy contest was organised, the easier it would be to figure out odds and make sure that PD Enterprises made money. The money would be shared among the members, prorated on who did what work on the betting book. Hermione would be in overall charge, with the others tasked with taking bets and keeping track of what was going on with the Triwizard.
"Each House of each school gets to enter a contestant," Draco went on. "Durmstrang and Beaxbatons have House systems like ours, and competition within those schools can be fierce." He paused for breath, and to relive some memories. "One of Mum's relatives went to Beauxbatons. What he says about inter-House relations there makes the worst we have here at Hogwarts look like purest love. That was part of the reason my parents chose to send me here, rather than Durmstrang or Beauxbatons."
For a moment, Harry lost himself in a beautiful dream of what life would have been like without Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts. While he seemed to have improved since his abominable grandfather had had to up stakes for foreign parts, there was always the possibility of him relapsing into his old obnoxious ways. And while his grandfather had apparently been the main cause of his family's entanglements with the Death Eaters, Harry was not sure but that Lucius and/or Narcissa hadn't sincerely bought into the Dark Lord's line of pureblood supremacy.
But things were as they were, Draco was at Hogwarts, and Harry resigned himself to dealing with reality. As he went up to bed, yawning, he wondered what the Goblet of Fire looked like. He had no intention whatsoever of submitting his own name in the competition, though. Hermione had told him and the rest of the PD Enterprises group that the Triwizard was dangerous, and even for five thousand galleons in prize money he felt that the risk was too great.
