Chapter 2. The Controversial Law
The melted, muddy snow on the street seen through the window of the Ministry of Magic had almost disappeared, replaced by the fallen green leaves of the trees. Harry would look out of his office window at the quiet streets whenever he wanted to regain his inner peace, even though he knew the scenery was just an illusion. Harry, however, felt nothing but frustration now at the sight of winter fading away and spring appearing, just as he had the previous two months. His instincts told him that he should be roaming the streets and alleyways right now, not sitting in his underground office. He glanced at today's Daily Prophet, thick reports, and a pile of neatly folded letters on his desk to resist the urge to run out.
The front page of the Daily Prophet featured a wide-ranging controversy over the so-called Wand Act, which had been a major issue in the Wizarding world for the past few weeks and was being aggressively pursued by Hermione Granger, one of his two best friends and the current Minister of Magic. Harry skipped over articles about the Wand Act and other minor events, focusing instead on the sports section, where his wife Ginny had written a thorough analysis of England's chances of hosting the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Though he gave it a quick glance, Harry found that he was not interested in the rest of the paper and put it aside.
Harry then reviewed the reports from the Auror office, whose agents had been dispatched to various regions of Britain and abroad to identify any suspicious activity. Nothing of interest had been reported, except that a Chimaera on the loose because of the union strike at the Greek Ministry of Magic had thrown downtown Athens into chaos, but even the rampaging Chimaeras were no longer of interest to Harry.
Then there were about ten letters piled up. Harry set aside a letter from his old friend Luna Lovegood (whose last name had been changed by her marriage to Rolf Scamander), decorated with a lion's mane, without even opening it. Despite being one of Harry's closest friends, Luna had been pestering him for months about protecting certain terrible creatures in the Forbidden Forest, and Harry had grown tired of her letters.
Harry had repeatedly asked Luna to contact the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures instead of his department, but Luna had asked him to intervene himself, as she felt they wouldn't listen. The department's lack of interest actually made sense: Who cared if the giant cannibal spiders were being slaughtered in the depths of the forest or not? Especially considering that those spiders had once been very eager to eat Harry himself.
The rest were either letters asking for Harry's signed photos or letters from his mates in Dumbledore's Army asking how he was. As he limped disappointedly into his chair after reading the last letter with no income, a purple paper airplane whizzed through the small hole above the entrance to his office. Harry's heart pounded again with anticipation as he grabbed the tiny airplane and opened it. The letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office read:
Dear Mr. Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Unfortunately, I must give you the same answer today as I have given you every day for the past two months. No, there are no criminal charges or allegations regarding the use of an Invisibility Cloak currently under investigation.
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Though the tone of the letter had started out with a great deal of respect for the most influential hero in the magical world, it was becoming more terse and curt with each passing day. More disappointed than ever, Harry bundled up the letter and threw it in the dustbin. The wretched plane sped away with its crumpled wings, and he stared blankly as it flew off, only to be crushed among the other garbage. The bin closed like a hungry, insectivorous plant, then swallowed its contents and burped loudly.
Harry lay on the desk. With his eyes closed, he could almost feel the smooth, silky texture of his old Cloak against his fingertips, rippling like the waves of a lake on a breezy, sunny day. Of course, there was nothing in his hands when he opened his eyes again. It was as if the thread connecting him to his joyful past had been severed with the loss of the Invisibility Cloak. In an effort to calm his feelings of loss and despondency, Harry straightened up, turned his head, and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. The many hands of the clock, each labeled with the pictures of the Aurors working for Harry, were busy spinning without showing the correct time.
His eyes narrowed as he searched for a familiar young face with sandy blond hair, and he confirmed that the hand for Teddy Lupin was still pointing to Azkaban. He was still some time away from returning. Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin, had been sent to the notorious wizard prison to observe if there was any suspicious activity among the prisoners. But the reason Harry was eagerly awaiting Teddy had nothing to do with Azkaban; he had another motive today.
Getting up from his seat, Harry searched through an antique bookcase and found a thin report. Since he had read the report every day for the past two months, the red cover with Teddy Lupin's name at the bottom had become smooth and faded. Harry returned to his desk and read the report carefully, word by word, to make sure he had not missed anything. Still, he could not find any connection between the loss of the Invisibility Cloak and the Christmas Eve rally of Death Eater sympathizers that Teddy had attended as an undercover agent.
"It's too early to be disappointed; I'm going to use this today," Harry muttered to himself as he pulled something covered in purple cloth from under the desk. He turned his head just in time to see the hand of the clock marking Teddy's face move from Azkaban to the Ministry of Magic. A short time later, Harry's godson burst into his office without knocking.
"Good morning, boss!"
Through the crack in the door caused by his abrupt entrance, Harry spotted a few Aurors glaring at Teddy 's back in displeasure, but they were soon hidden by the closing door. Thoroughly wet, Teddy's hair wasn't his usual sandy blonde, but a vivid shade of violet, like that worn by his late mother, Nymphadora Tonks. His black trench coat was drenched in water, as if it had just come out of the washing machine, forming a large puddle under his feet. More drops of water splashed in all directions as Teddy shook them off vigorously.
"Good morning, Teddy. What's with the new hair?"
"I've been to Azkaban, Harry," said Teddy, wide-eyed. "Blonde hair doesn't go well with the gloomy setting."
"The place is a lot better than it used to be, though. . . . At least the dementors are gone now."
"Yeah, but the guards there looked just as gloomy as the prisoners in that awful weather," said Teddy, shaking off the water again. Meanwhile, his pointed nose and chin, which had given the impression of depression, were gradually shrinking. This revealed his original handsome face, and his hair was almost back to its natural sandy color.
"That's understandable. . . . How is Kingsley, by the way?" asked Harry. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a long-time friend and co-worker of Harry's, and he also happened to be the former Minister of Magic.
"The only person who looked pleased was him. If I were a retired Minister of Magic, I'd go to Taiti and rest like forever. He's not in his right mind to volunteer to be the governor of Azkaban . . ."
Teddy shook his head as he pointed the wand at his still damp head, and his hair was instantly styled to perfection, as if he had used a hairdryer with the utmost care.
"That's how Kingsley is — he just never rests. . . ."
"By the way, he asked me to give you this." Teddy took out a rolled piece of parchment from inside his coat and handed it to Harry. "This is a report on Rodolphus Lestrange, who escaped and was recently recaptured, and Delphi Diggory, the latest prisoner to arrive. Rodolphus seems to have fallen ill after spending some time outside."
"I'm glad to hear that; we had a hard time getting him back in."
Harry carefully read Kingsley's neat handwriting on the report. The report concluded, to his dismay, that the two prisoners on watch had not shown any suspicious behavior in the past year and were serving their sentences properly. Kingsley had taken over as head of Azkaban after Rodolphus's escape, and had promised to run the prison as thoroughly as possible. Harry had no reason to doubt the report, since Kingsley could not have neglected his guard.
Harry was going over the report again to see if he had missed anything when Teddy yawned lazily and asked, "Can I go home now? Our bylaws say you can go on leave after a trip to Azkaban."
"Wait a minute, I need you to do something for me."
Having put Kingsley's report in a drawer, Harry handed Teddy another document with a red cover that he had placed on the corner of his desk. Teddy let out a deep sigh just looking at it.
"I've said enough about that uneventful Christmas rally. Nothing happened that night!"
"Sometimes it's the little details that slip your mind that hold the key to solving a case."
"But how can I remember something I can't?"
"That's where magic comes in," Harry said, slowly removing the purple cloth from the object between him and Teddy. "Do you know what this is?"
"Er — some sort of iron washbowl?"
"Take a closer look."
"There's something written in runes on the outside. . . . But you know — I've failed that subject."
"It's called a Pensieve. It lets you go directly into someone's memory and experience it vividly. I managed to borrow one from the Department of Mysteries."
"Wow, that's really cool," said Teddy unenthusiastically. "So the most boring memory of my life is what you want me to relive?"
"We're going in together, so let's take a closer look to see if anything suspicious happened at the rally. Now, remember what happened that night."
"Could there be another way?"
"Stay calm, Teddy. I don't want to empty your head any more than it already is."
Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Teddy's head. Teddy winced, and at the same time a thin silver thread was pulled out of his head and hung from the wand. Harry carefully placed it on the silvery-white substance in the Pensieve and shook it off a few times. Teddy's memory fragment fell onto the silvery substance, causing it to swirl. When the surface of the strange substance calmed down again, it gradually became clear, revealing a dark basement dimly lit by candles.
"You first. I'll be right behind you." Harry beckoned, and his godson groaned audibly and thrust his face into the Pensieve, Harry following.
The moment the tip of Harry's nose touched the transparent material, a wave of dizziness swept over him. It was as if invisible hands had grabbed his legs, turned them upside down and plunged his head into the bowl. Harry felt as if his body was being carried away by the treacherous currents of the deep sea. Suddenly he found himself sitting in an empty chair in the basement.
Teddy, who was sitting next to him, shivered and asked, "Is it always this cold?"
"Once you get used to it, you'll feel better."
Teddy looked around and gaped. "Wow, this is something! It's exactly like that night." He gestured to a man slumped in a chair a few seats away. "I guess that's me."
"Right, look at that idleness . . ."
Harry inspected the basement more closely. A high ceiling made it appear more spacious than it had from the outside of the Pensieve. Despite the bright candles hanging from the ceiling, reminiscent of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, he could feel absolutely no warmth in the room due to the twisted skeletons and snakes attached to the walls where the earth's surface was exposed. Opposite Harry was a crude platform made of logs. About a hundred dark wooden chairs, similar to the ones they were sitting in now, were arranged in a disorderly fashion facing the stage. It seemed that there was still some time before the rally began; most of the seats were empty, except for those occupied by Teddy of the past in a black robe and a handful of ardent supporters seated in front.
"I'm feeling sleepy already," said Teddy. A yawn escaped his mouth as he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the chair in front of him.
"Teddy, what kind of people usually attend this rally?"
"Almost all Slytherins, I think," Teddy said, opening his eyes slightly. After a moment, he raised his head before adding, "Come to think of it, that wasn't necessarily the case . . . some of them were from other Houses. I even saw Summers, my senior! I still can't believe a Hufflepuff showed up at a Death Eater rally."
"What? You didn't include that in your report."
"Yes, I did," Teddy insisted. "I remember writing something like this: The growing support at this rally is a source of concern."
"I'm telling you, Teddy, you need to learn more about writing, not magic," sighed Harry. He suddenly remembered the family gathering on Christmas Eve, the beginning of all this. "From what I understand, this phenomenon is not at all unlikely. Lily recently nagged me to buy a Muggle-made electronic device."
"It's that smartypawn thing, right?" said Teddy. "To tell you the truth, Victoire wants one too."
"Yes. I've seen it work, and in some ways it was more magical than real magic. Maybe that's why our world is in such turmoil — Muggles are not as insignificant as they once were." As he spoke, more and more people filled the seats, and a long line of people continued to enter the narrow tunnel beside the stage. "Look at them — this is the result. Now not only Slytherins, but all witches and wizards want to prove their own superiority."
Teddy nodded in agreement with Harry's words with a serious look that was rare for him. After about ten minutes, most of the seats were filled, except for a few rows in the back. Finally, the leader of the rally emerged from the tunnel with a few of his enthusiastic followers. Like the Death Eaters of old, he and his followers wore black robes and hoods, and their faces were covered with rusty metal masks. However, due to his fat body and dirty robes, their leader struggled and waddled through the tunnel, failing to achieve the dignity he sought even before the beginning of the event.
The leader, who was to deliver the speech, removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his brow as others lined up like guards along the wall behind him. Even though Harry knew what the rally leader, who had once been a Death Eater, looked like from the photos his men had taken, his heart still pounded when he saw his face in person.
"There he is, the mighty Crabbe senior. . . . He's the one who ruined my lovely Christmas date," said Teddy coolly. As Vincent Crabbe's father, he was often referred to as Crabbe senior to distinguish him from his son. But although he was much older, Crabbe senior looked just as young as Vincent Crabbe when he had been at Hogwarts. His round face and double chin were covered with pudding-bowl hair, his very short neck continued beneath it, and both his long arms were outstretched like a gorilla.
Crabbe senior glanced around the audience with a dull expression before pulling out his wand and pointing it at the ceiling. As he waved it, the orange glow of the candlelight turned an ominous green, creating an unholy, cemetery-like atmosphere in the basement. Crabbe nodded solemnly amidst the applause of his ardent followers.
"How did he end up so free, spared life in Azkaban?" asked Teddy indignantly.
"It's a complicated story. Have you heard about the time some of us in Dumbledore's Army tried to break into the Ministry of Magic?"
"Oh, yes — I remember now," Teddy nodded to show that he did not need any further explanation.
Harry and his friends had played a significant role in the way that Crabbe senior had come to host this rally, just as they had done with so many other things in the Wizarding world. Harry recalled a moment of comedy that had occurred on the same tragic day that Sirius Black, Harry's dear godfather, had died. To evade the Death Eaters in pursuit of the prophecy, Harry and his friends had taken refuge in the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries. In the midst of the fighting, Crabbe senior, one of the pursuers and father of Vincent Crabbe, had accidentally dropped his head into a jar of glittering wind. The strange substance in the jar was obviously no ordinary thing, as it had only transformed Crabbe senior's face into that of a baby, leaving the rest of his adult body intact.
In the end, Crabbe senior, who had been sent to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in such a state, had been forgotten by both the Death Eaters and their opponents, and had remained in the hospital room, cooing and gurgling, until the end of the war. Then, just a few years ago, when Crabbe's baby face had finally grown into an adult, the Ministry of Magic had released him, believing the patient's claim that he had had no prior memories. That statement, however, had been a lie. As a result, Crabbe senior, having retained his memories and his loyalty to the Dark Lord, had gained the reputation of being the only Death Eater allowed to roam the streets freely. Since then, his occasional rallies in memory of Voldemort and his fellow Death Eaters had made life difficult for Harry.
"You couldn't touch him because of his baby face – I just can't believe it," Teddy muttered discontentedly. "How could he even look like a baby? If Hermione hadn't stopped you, you would've finished him off for good, wouldn't you?"
Harry smiled as he remembered the time Hermione had stopped him when he tried to attack the baby-faced Crabbe senior. "Yes, that's true. But then Crabbe looked as adorable as you as a toddler."
Teddy pretended to be sick. Meanwhile, Crabbe senior, who had turned away from the podium, was busy magically drawing something on the wall with his wand. At first glance, it appeared to be a Death Eater symbol, with a snake protruding from the skull's mouth. But due to his extremely poor drawing skills, the skull ended up looking like a perforated light bulb and the snake like an earthworm. Crabbe nodded condescendingly at his own finished painting before taking his place at the podium.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear comrades. Thank you for taking the time to sympathize with our cause at Christmas. I remember our last meeting was at Thanksgiving; though it's only been a few months, it feels like years, as we groan painfully at the tyranny of the current Ministry," said Crabbe. His voice was unexpectedly soft, unlike his enormous size and rugged appearance. "The Mudblood Minister is trying to pass a ridiculous law; I'm sure everyone here knows that!"
Harry's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist in anger at an insult directed at Hermione Granger, one of his closest friends. Despite Harry's anger, the people in Teddy's memory murmured their agreement with Crabbe senior's words.
"Yes, it's a tyrannical law, commonly known as the Wand Act. Is there anyone who can give us more details about this nonsensical law?" Hands rose one by one from the audience. Crabbe pointed out a young man about Teddy's age among those who raised their hands; he had jet black hair and a long, twisted face. "Young man there, please explain."
"The Ministerial Decree on the Prohibition of the Possession of Magic Wands by Adherents of Disturbing Ideas, or the Wand Act, prohibits those who sympathize with the ideas of the Dark Lord from acquiring a magic wand. In particular, the law's definition of sympathy is so broad that many purebloods see it as an attempt to outlaw all criticism of Blood Traitors or Muggles."
"Correct! It's a conspiracy to silence us old families who are still loyal to the Wizarding world. Kingsley Shacklebolt, misled by that cunning Mudblood Granger, has already repealed a number of pro-pureblood laws, but perhaps that wasn't enough for that wicked girl!"
There was another murmur of sympathy at Crabbe's words. When Harry turned his head to a pat on the shoulder, Teddy pointed to the young man who had just explained the Wand Act.
"The bastard's name is Markus Dolohov. As you know, his late father, Antonin Dolohov, killed my own father. I swear I'll bring him to justice sooner or later. . . ."
The Teddy of the past, wearing a black hood and sitting a bit forward, also stared intently at Markus Dolohov's back when Harry turned his head to check it out. Teddy's stiff back seemed to ooze hostility, even though his face was invisible from Harry's position.
"But don't be careless. People in corners can be dangerous," said Harry worriedly.
"Now that I've made it clear who the opponent is, it's time to shed some light on how we ended up in this shady underground," Crabbe senior went on as the crowd began to quiet down a bit.
"Here we go again," said Teddy sulkily. "He says the same thing every time there's a rally . . ."
"During the last war, the Dark Lord was on the verge of victory. Harry Potter — that accursed, insolent boy — was trapped like a rat in Hogwarts castle, and his humble army was greatly outnumbered by the Death Eaters. The Muggle-borns had done great damage to our world, but then we had the chance to fix everything!"
"DAMN RIGHT!"
"LONG LIVE THE DARK LORD!"
Loud cheers erupted as Crabbe senior raised his arms. With the candlelight casting an eerie green hue over the audience from above, Crabbe waited for the ominous silence to return to the room and continued.
"But when victory was so close, the blades that would bring so much pain and sorrow to the magical world were already pointed at the Dark Lord's back. Moreover, it was our own kind who held those blades, not Muggle-loving Potter or his minions!"
There was a massive outburst of anger from his enthusiastic followers. Harry shuddered, wondering how long it had been since he had felt the madness of the Death Eaters so vividly. Crabbe resumed his speech.
"When the time came, the two blades pierced the Dark Lord's back — and so the last hope for our world was lost. That's right, folks. . . . The first came from the blood traitor Malfoys, the second from Severus Snape, who had disguised his loyalty to the Dark Lord with false allegiance!"
All sorts of curses and shouts of outrage filled the cellar and rattled Harry's eardrums. It took almost five minutes for the noise to subside and for Crabbe to begin speaking again.
"Bellatrix, Rowle, Dolohov and many others from the noble houses had fallen. On that tragic day, I also sent away my most precious one — my son, Vincent Crabbe. . . . The brave child charged recklessly into the enemy line to kill Harry Potter, and almost succeeded. It would have been a very different world if the traitor Draco Malfoy hadn't intervened. In memory of my son Vincent, I want you to pray for his soul."
The anger that had just dominated the place had vanished without a trace, and the people in the basement sobbed one by one in a somber atmosphere, bowing their heads in respect. But Harry, who knew better than anyone else that Vincent Crabbe had foolishly died in the devilish flames of his own making, found the sight of people mourning him as if he were a saintly martyr simply ridiculous. After his son's memorial, Crabbe senior continued to ramble on about the greatness of pure-blood wizards, alleged Muggle conspiracies, and his furious opposition to the Wand Act.
About half an hour later, he finally concluded his speech, "The tragedy of us purebloods must never be repeated. We, the true witches and wizards who are worthy of the privilege inherited from our revered ancestors, must unite as one against our enemies. Show no mercy to those inferior things — Muggles, their puppet offspring, and blood traitors! This is the only way to honor the legacy of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the noble one who gave his life for this cause!"
When Crabbe senior bowed his head (though his neck was so thick it was hard to tell when he did), thunderous applause erupted. The Teddy of the past, who had been dozing in front of Harry for a while, seemed to be surprised by the noise and tried to get up, but sat down again. When Harry looked at the real Teddy sitting next to him, he scratched his head in shame. In appreciation of their enthusiastic support for Crabbe, he wept and raised his thick arms. He looked like a gorilla in the jungle standing under the green light.
With the end of the rally, the people began to stream out, and the Teddy of the past joined the ranks as well. Crabbe senior gathered with his followers on the platform and secretly talked about something. The group was joined by Markus Dolohov, the young man with the long, twisted face Teddy had just pointed at. To see if anything suspicious was going on, Harry focused his attention in that direction. The platform, however, had begun to fog as the source of the memory seemed to be dozing off.
Clunk. Then a sound from above caught Harry's ear. Clunk. Clunk. Harry looked up quickly. The ceiling above his head vibrated slightly with each sound, causing some dust to fall. Long ago, Mad-Eye Moody's wooden leg had made similar sounds, but the step coming from above was disciplined rather than limping.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
The strange footsteps continued upstairs; they sounded like chunks of metal hitting the hardwood floor repeatedly, as if someone was wearing heavy steel boots. . . . Harry tried his best to focus on the sound, but his vision dimmed as darkness crept in from all sides. Suddenly, his feet lifted off the ground and his body did a slow somersault of its own accord. The next moment he was back in his office with Teddy.
"This is something. Next time, let's go into more pleasant memories," said Teddy, stroking the Pensieve gently.
"Did you just hear that noise?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of the strange footsteps he had just heard.
"What sound?"
"That metallic sound! I heard someone walking over my head. What was up there on the first floor?"
"Crabbe's residence. But anyone attending a rally Apparates directly to the basement entrance, not the house," Teddy said, frowning. "Anyway, what's there to see in a house where a widower lives alone? Just some rotting food and garbage, I guess. . . ."
"That makes me even more curious about who was above us. Maybe that person wanted to meet with Crabbe and his men in secret." Harry glanced wistfully at Pensieve, wanting to go back inside and take a closer look. "Perhaps this stranger came there to discuss a plan to steal someone's Invisibility Cloak . . ."
"Who would discuss such a plan with a total idiot like Crabbe? Besides, even if you want to go back to my memory, it won't work. That's all I remember before I Disapparated," snapped Teddy. He seemed to realize that his godfather was about to get back into the Pensieve. Harry slumped into the chair, regretting that there were no more clues to the strange footsteps, and motioned for Teddy to sit across from him.
"Did you notice anything other than the sound of footsteps, Harry?" Teddy asked, loosening the top of his shirt.
"Well, at least now I know how much opposition there is to the Wand Act," said Harry thoughtfully. "I thought it was just one of Hermione's usual reforms, but it seems to have upset a lot of people."
"You know how important wand is to us wizards. But as long as this law can temper the petty pride of those at the rally, I'm all for it. I wish I could see Markus Dolohov crying and sobbing without his wand."
Harry nodded as he felt his hands around his waist, as was his habit, to make sure his cherished phoenix-feather wand was in place. Thinking back to the shock and heartache he had experienced when Hermione's misdirected spell caused the shattering of his own wand, Harry could understand the fervent opposition to the Wand Act by Crabbe senior and his supporters.
"Wands mean a lot to us, but I doubt everything will go as Hermione hopes. I need to talk to her later."
"As you wish. I'm off for now." Teddy yawned and got up. As he was about to grab the doorknob, a knock came.
"It's Edmund, sir. I came to see you in a hurry."
When Teddy heard the voice outside the door, he jumped back in surprise, as if he had stepped on a rat trap.
"Come in," said Harry.
As Harry spoke, the door burst open and Edmund Slughorn entered with a flushed face. He was the nephew of the late Horace Slughorn, Harry's old Potions teacher, but he looked the opposite of his uncle. Unlike Horace, who had been fat and bald, Edmund was slim with dark hair, and his delicate features and sharp chin gave him a somber air.
Edmund walked straight up to Harry and stopped when he saw Teddy standing in the doorway, his guard up. Teddy was also alert, staring at the intruder with a sharp stare, and his shoulders, which had been slumped with fatigue, were now straight. They were the same age, but they had never been close. The two of them had a relationship similar to that of Harry and Draco Malfoy when they had been at Hogwarts, for example. Simply put, they were each other's archenemies.
"Mr. Potter, I need to talk to you alone," Edmund said, ignoring Teddy.
"What's the big deal, Slughorn?" snorted Teddy, who was standing next to him.
"Weren't you just leaving, Lupin? If you can't do it without my help, I'll open the door for you," said Edmund.
"Teddy, be polite to your colleagues. Edmund, you can talk about anything in front of Teddy; maybe it's related to what we've been discussing."
Edmund's face was flushed, but he did his best to ignore Teddy as he sneered at him. "It's about the mission you gave me, sir. I overheard three of Crabbe's followers talking in the Leaky Cauldron while I was working undercover; they were discussing a plan to rob a certain shop in Diagon Alley tonight."
"Were they really Death Eaters? You didn't overhear some kids trying to steal some candy, did you?" said Teddy casually. Harry gave Teddy a stern look and turned back to Edmund. Even before he spoke, Harry felt he knew what the answer would be.
"Which shop, Edmund?"
"Mr. Ollivander's wand shop, sir. Crabbe and a dozen of his men are planning to raid it tonight."
"Was there any talk of wearing an Invisibility Cloak?" asked Harry.
Edmund shook his head firmly and said, "There was no mention of that."
"I see," Harry said, trying not to show his disappointment. "Well done, Edmund. With any luck, we might get Crabbe and his men this time."
"I hope Markus is among them," said Teddy, looking sideways at Edmund. "Even if you find it depressing, Slughorn. You're from the same House as Markus, aren't you?"
"Being a Slytherin doesn't necessarily mean you have to hold the wrong beliefs. Markus has been my enemy since the moment he swore allegiance to Crabbe," said Edmund coldly.
"He's right. His late uncle, Horace Slughorn, gave us crucial help during the Battle of Hogwarts, even when he was Head of Slytherin House," Harry said as he flicked his wand at the bookshelf and a roll of parchment floated to his desk and unfolded. He looked at the map of Diagon Alley and pointed his wand at the bottom. The name Edmund Slughorn appeared in a square building marked as the Leaky Cauldron. "Edmund, take the Aurors to the Leaky Cauldron. Evacuate the place first, then get an upper room with a clear view of Diagon Alley." Harry pointed his wand at the center of the map this time. The name Teddy Lupin appeared on the main street of the map. "Teddy, you should change your appearance and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity around the wand shop. I'll ask the Head of the Auror office to prepare for the operation, so go with her. Before I join you, I need to make a report to the Minister."
"Very well, Mr. Potter," said Edmund.
"Got it, Harr- I mean, sir." Teddy quickly corrected the title, as if he'd done it by mistake, but judging by his grin, it didn't seem like one. Taking advantage of his rival's longing for Harry's approval, Teddy dropped vague hints that he and Harry Potter were on a first-name basis. Judging by Edmund's darkened face, it seemed that the attempt had worked again.
Harry sighed and waved them out, took a closer look at the map of Diagon Alley and then left his office. The Auror Headquarters just outside his office was already busy preparing for deployment, with Edmund leading his fellow Slytherins and Teddy leading the rest of the Aurors out the nearby door. Susan Bones, Head of the Auror office and one of the fellow members of Dumbledore's Army, approached Harry as she gave instructions aloud to her Aurors. She had taken over Harry's former role as Head of the Auror office after he had been promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; she was so skilled and experienced as an Auror that Harry could not have found a more suitable candidate.
"Harry, I heard about the operation. It's been a while since the Dark Forces have been so openly active," said Susan gravely.
"Yes, it's inevitable that the peace will break one day, no matter how long it takes." Harry said with a nod.
"Does this have anything to do with your lost Invisibility Cloak?" asked Susan.
"I hope so — I wish I could find some clues to its whereabouts tonight," said Harry hopefully. "And Susan, tell the Aurors not to put too much pressure on Crabbe and his men. If their retreat is blocked, things could get ugly. All they need is one or two captives to testify to their crimes."
"Okay, Harry. Crabbe's men might even trip over themselves, considering how stupid they are. . . ."
Harry left the empty office and said goodbye to Susan. He followed the silent marble corridor to the lifts and pushed the button for the floor with the Minister's office. Even after two decades had passed, Harry felt a strange sense of tension and thirst whenever he climbed to the top floor where the Minister's office was located. Harry's heart still sank at the memory of those risky moments when he, Ron and Hermione had explored the Ministry of Magic in disguise, searching for the Horcrux in Dolores Umbridge's possession.
When the lift stopped with a cheerful chime, Harry stepped out into a quiet, purple-carpeted corridor. He followed the familiar path, turning a few corners before coming to a wide, open area that led to the personal office of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Harry was stunned for a moment as he didn't understand what he was seeing; it was as if he had returned to the Ministry of the past, under Umbridge's cruel reign, using a Time Turner.
About ten witches and wizards sat in a row in front of polished desks. The white squares of paper floated around and clumped together as they waved and twisted their wands in the same way. After being magically folded, bound, and transformed into pamphlets, they were piled on top of each other next to each worker. The scene was remarkably similar to the production of pamphlets promoting pure-blood supremacy under Umbridge's direction when Harry had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic many years ago. Harry pulled out a piece of paper from the nearest bundle.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Potter!"
Only then, led by a young secretary who had found Harry first, did the assembled people recognize him and greet him in unison. Harry replied half-heartedly and began to read the newly created pamphlet. The following words were written on the white cover in an ominous shade of red:
THE WAND ACT
and a Healthy, Ideal Society
That It Could Make a Reality
Below these words was a skeleton with empty eyeholes, and just above it was a dead snake and a wand forming an X. Harry laughed at his stupidity, wondering if Hermione had designed the cover herself, as the faded mahogany door on the front opened. A small witch stepped out, who smiled and approached Harry.
"Hello, Harry," said Ethel, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.
"Hi, Ethel. I have a report to make to the Minister."
Ethel glanced at her watch as she said, "The Minister has a meeting with the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." There were no hours, minutes, seconds, or even dials on her watch; instead, several planets were orbiting the sun, one overlapping it and another slowly approaching it. "Looks like it's going to end soon. . . . Let me show you to her office."
Harry followed Ethel down the corridor. A loud, familiar voice came from a large mahogany door not far away. "TRY EVERYTHING! NEXT TIME, BRING YOUR RESIGNATION IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE EXCUSES!"
After a moment's silence, the door burst open and a red-faced man rushed out; it turned out to be Barry Ryan, a former Keeper for the Irish National Quidditch team and current Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Harry and Ethel watched as Barry slipped between them without a word and disappeared around the corner, looking rather offended.
"Oh dear. She must be in a foul mood." Ethel went in alone, leaving Harry behind. When Harry had waited outside for some time, she came back out and opened the door for him. "The Minister says she can see you now. Come in."
Hermione's office looked like a miniature library. It was almost impossible to see the dull colored wallpaper because it was hidden by the tall bookshelves that lined the wall on all sides, and a variety of books filled them in many colors. Hermione Granger pulled her hair down in frustration, making it look even bushier than usual.
"Hello, Harry. I hope you have some good news," she said in a hollow voice, slowly raising her head.
"Depending on how you look at it, it could be both good and bad," Harry said, pulling up the chair that Barry Ryan had just used and sitting across from Hermione. "You fought with Barry about hosting the Quidditch World Cup, didn't you?"
Several hairs flew from Hermione's face as she sighed. "I had no idea it would be so difficult to host a World Cup when I first became Minister. . . . The Quidditch Committee is currently weighing us against the United States, and it seems Americans have gathered slightly more votes than we have."
Hermione glared at the American continent from the globe on her desk. Harry then noticed that the figure dozing in the portrait behind her had changed. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black that had originally been placed there was of a cunning looking wizard with a pointed beard, black hair, dark eyes and thin eyebrows. However, the old man dozing in Phineas Nigellus's place in the new portrait looked friendly, almost bald and plump.
"What happened to Phineas's portrait?" asked Harry.
"It's been a while since I put it in the warehouse. He kept insisting that he had done a great deal during the last war and that he should be honored in my office. But in every meeting, he'd interrupt to give his so-called advice whenever he had the chance."
Phineas Nigellus had also told Harry to get his hair done every time he came to the Minister's office, so he was secretly pleased to hear that his portrait had been removed.
"Then whose picture is this?" Harry asked.
"That's Nobby Leach," Hermione replied respectfully. She raised her eyes in disbelief as Harry gave her a confused look. "Shouldn't you know the name just by hearing it? I'm afraid I can't ask you to retake History of Magic."
"Hermione — I failed that subject, remember?"
"All right, then listen up. Nobby Leach was the first Muggle-born Minister of Magic, and the only one of his kind to hold the position before me. During his tenure in the 1960s, England hosted the Quidditch World Cup and even won it."
"I suppose you want to follow his example."
"Of course I do! Mr. Leach was a popular Minister, but then fell victim to the conspiracy of the early Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, and was forced to resign. Muggle-born witches and wizards have not served as Minister of Magic for over fifty years since then. Now that I have a second chance, I cannot fail Mr. Leach at any cost." Hermione stared in awe at the picture of Nobby Leach behind her. Harry could swear that Mr. Leach's eyes had flitted open and winked at them. He seemed to give Hermione a lot of advice when others weren't around.
"I'm glad I found this great man — while I was exploring downstairs, I stumbled upon this treasure."
"Pius Thicknesse and Umbridge wouldn't have put a portrait of a Muggle-born Minister in the right place. When we won the war, we burned all of Umbridge's portraits ourselves."
"Don't mention it, the toad-like scream of those terrible portraits still echoes in my ears," Hermione said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "What brings you here, by the way?"
"We have information about the raid planned for tonight. Crabbe senior and his followers are planning to rob Ollivander's wand shop."
"Really? Aren't they aware that we're trying to get them in at the first opportunity?"
"They're either brave enough to know and act anyway, or stupid enough not to know. I'd bet on the latter."
"If you say so. . . . My only concern is that once you have Crabbe in Azkaban, your Aurors might get bored."
"Hermione, I saw Crabbe's last rally with the Pensieve. Of course, Crabbe is a non-threatening idiot, just like his dead son, but I didn't expect so many witches and wizards to show up at the rally. . . . Many people seem to be against your new law."
"So? Are you asking me to withdraw the law now?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "We all know how dangerous Voldemort's ideas are! In the very Ministry of Magic where we are now, innocent people have been tried and imprisoned. All because they came from Muggle families!"
"I'm well aware of that. But that doesn't justify us taking wands from Voldemort's sympathizers . . ."
"Would someone with such twisted beliefs use a wand for anything worthwhile? No, they'll just use it to bully others!"
"Hermione, look. We all know that the Death Eaters have done a lot of harm. But my concern is that banning their ideas in public might make young people more attracted to them."
"Good for them, such fools deserve to lose their wands."
"It's not just fools who fall for it. Remember when Umbridge was High Inquisitor at Hogwarts? She stupidly banned the possession of The Quibbler, just to make sure the whole school read it. Young people are often attracted to forbidden things; there's a certain thrill in it."
Hermione smiled bitterly at Harry's words. "Yes, you have a point. But suppose I withdraw the Wand Act now — it will only serve to brand me as an indecisive and incompetent politician for the media . . ."
"Leave it to me. If I catch Crabbe and put him on trial, people will lose interest in the law and you'll have a reason to abandon it."
"Thank you, Harry! I knew I could always count on you. Have a cup of tea before you go."
Hermione conjured a kettle and brought it to a boil, then took some biscuits from the tin. Over tea they discussed their respective marriages and children. Hermione followed Harry into the hallway as he started to leave.
"Harry, you got to admit, you're getting older. Please don't be so reckless tonight, okay?" Hermione asked in a worried tone.
Harry replied with a grin. "Don't worry, Hermione. Compared to all the challenges we've faced, this is a walk in the park."