In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 82: Membership Declined
Harry woke Thursday morning, still dark in Gia's bedroom.
"Mum!" came Richard's voice on the upper landing, "We're running—that's not going to help."
Harry climbed off the bed, went onto the upper landing.
"Need measurements," Kristen said, flexible tape measure in her hands.
Harry bolted down the stairs, went out the front door, found Richard across the street.
"Not losing her that easily," Richard said.
The front door closed, Kristen ran over. Sweatpants on, the white T–shirt with the outline of a protective vest beneath.
"Come on," Kristen said.
Harry ran with her, along with Richard. Harry knew the same irritation that he'd sense in Richard, unable to freely chat with her around.
"What if something happened?" Kristen said, "Know those bounties are growing, it'll make things worse."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"Mum," Richard said.
"You're running with him," Kristen said, "Bullets can miss him, get you. Happened yesterday."
Harry let his eyes roam as they ran.
"Harry's…different," Richard said.
"That cult?" Kristen asked, "Why'd you be so afraid to tell—"
"People get killed," Harry said, "That's why."
Harry stopped at the zebra crossing, glanced around, and spotted it not too far to his right, in the growing morning light. Mad–Eye Moody had his wand out, shot ropes against the man, ropes that crushed around the man with a camera. A push, the man flew across the road, splintered around a lamp post. Moody disapparated, while another in the jacket of the Ministry apparated.
"Move!" Harry barked, turned left.
"Thought we crossed—" Kristen started.
"Somebody's after me," Harry said, "Best to shake up the route."
Richard and Kristen followed Harry. Harry simply knew he didn't want to tangle with the Ministry in front of her. He let Kristen catch up with her.
"Cult?" Harry asked, caught her glances.
Harry watched her considering her words, the conversation she had with Hermione the previous evening. He wished Hermione had stayed silent, but the word had come from Kristen, and seemed to fit.
"It's old," Harry said, "Wrong people get caught up, people get burned at the stake, so please understand why we're hesitant to let anybody know about it. I'm bloody serious about it having been deadly in the past."
"The more I know, the more I can help," Kristen said, "As bodies have washed up here, as people get shot at, I have authority to act."
"I wish you could help," Harry said, feeling a bit of emotion swell, "I wish…"
A crack, a tree moved fast behind him, a momentary blindness, and Harry fell down the embankment. Knees up, Harry sat there, leaned into them, cried, as he understood that everything happening was due to him, all the deaths, the destruction, he'd inadvertently chosen the targets.
"Mum!" Richard's voice in the distance, "Butt out!"
Footsteps, Richard came down, before the brook in front of them both, squatted.
"Alright?" Richard said, "Mum freaked out when the tree crashed."
Harry stared at Richard, one life he'd wagered with.
"If I'd dated anybody else," Harry whispered, "You'd be safe."
Richard reached, held Harry's shoulder.
"Then their friends would be in danger," Richard said, "I know they're after you—what you going to do, hide in the forest? They'd slaughter all the trees and innocent creatures to get to you."
"You'd be safe," Harry repeated.
"As you describe it," Richard said, "They attack us muggles anyways."
"A dark lottery," Harry said, "Odds are better without me around."
"I know that when our number comes up," Richard said, "I'd rather have you around. I doubt you'd go down without a fight."
Harry stared at him a bit more.
"Before Mum sends search and rescue in," Richard said.
A snort, a laugh, Harry accepted the hand that helped pull him up. Harry brushed his butt, and followed Richard back up the embankment. Back along the footpath, the large tree that was across it, splintered. A council worker already there with a chainsaw, as Kristen stood watch.
"Sorry…" Harry spotted it, the jacket of the Magical Law Enforcement. "This way."
Harry turned Richard, who followed, and they walked away.
"You're—?" Richard asked.
"They see me and you're in trouble," Harry said, "That tree was me."
"You took it down?" Richard asked.
"Not deliberately," Harry said, "Sometimes, it just happens."
Harry and Richard ran back home.
Later that morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended the stairs from the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory.
"Second day in a row," Ron said, "Record."
"Don't read anything into it." Harry stopped as he spotted it. "Wait."
Harry aimed his wand, blasted the rope blocking the stairs.
"Snare!" Ron stammered.
"Our own house!" Hermione exclaimed.
"To whom we're scum," Harry said, "And we're worth hundreds of thousands of Galleons dead…so expect something to happen."
Harry jumped the bottom step into the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Or…maybe not," Harry said as he turned to the parchment sheet posted to the wall.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff Wager
Who's going to win? Gryffindor has 2 to 1 odds with Hufflepuff. Place your wager below no later than Friday at midnight.
1. Limited to one sickle per student, one galleon if you wish to abide by the other terms in the packet, sign if you agree.
2. All winnings will be forfeited in the event that either house is unable to field their entire current team for play. In this event, all proceeds will be donated to Harry Potter to further his aims.
"Talk about a threat," Ron said.
"Money won't help if you're dead," Hermione said.
"True," Harry said.
"Lets also not get suspended for cutting class," Hermione said.
They went for the portrait hole.
"That'd be worth it," Ron said.
"Wonder what the first class will be?" Harry asked.
"Transfiguration," Hermione said.
"Huh?" Ron asked.
"Professor McGonagall left us our schedules," Hermione said, showing the leafs of parchment, she handed them over to Harry and Ron.
"Better than Potions," Ron said.
"Likely to show the others we're still attending," Harry said, "When possible."
"Wait," Harry said, yet again, as he spotted something slithering across the fifth floor corridor.
Harry went back, took a running start, jumped, foot onto the window ledge, he passed over it, the fangs doubled back around. Harry's wand out, pushed the serpent that turned into a wraith.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry shouted, the white stag charged and repelled it.
Ron and Hermione took the lead.
"Halls are too empty," Harry said.
Harry bolted into a run, Ron and Hermione followed, their breaths short as they made it to the first floor.
Ring!
Aurors to either side of the entrance, Harry entered the classroom first. Neville, already at a desk with Dean Thomas. Ernie Macmillan and Seamus Finnigan at another. Parvati Patil and Padma Patil at a third desk. Muttering continued, eyes at them, along with the pile of armor at the back of the classroom; most of their classmates had their uniforms adorned with canary yellow.
"Excuse us Professor!" Dean Thomas exclaimed, hand raised
Ron and Hermione joined Harry, sat at the open and available, front desk.
"Yes Mr. Thomas?" McGonagall asked.
Dean Thomas stood.
"Us students feel that staying would jeopardize our safety unless we wore our armor," Dean Thomas said.
"Not necessary in this classroom," Professor McGonagall said, "I have it on good authority that you are not in danger."
"Not acceptable," said Seamus Finnigan said.
"You may either accept my terms," Professor McGonagall said, "Or leave with a detention, your choice."
"It's only your pathetic life on the line," said Draco Malfoy.
"I choose the detention," Seamus Finnigan said, and went for his armor.
In no time, the silvery metal fitted itself onto him, the first of everybody else. Neville was pushed out of the classroom by Finnigan and Thomas. Draco Malfoy was the last to leave.
"Sorry about that," Harry said.
"Every student should be afforded the opportunity to learn," Professor McGonagall, "To walk out deprives them, and you're a student here, so let us start."
"Um…Professor," Hermione said, "Mind if we take a few minutes? Our disillusionment is a bit weak."
"If we have time at the end of the lecture," Professor McGonagall said, "And now it's only three, I can make sure nobody's mind is wandering."
Hermione snickered, Ron groaned.
"It is now February," Professor McGonagall said, "So we will begin our studies on human transfiguration. Please take out your textbooks."
Harry reached into his book–bag.
Later still in the Transfiguration classroom, Ron aimed his wand at the Aztec patterned vase.
"Inlusio!" Ron exclaimed.
Clay vanished, took on what was behind it, but not the paint itself.
"Bit more focus," said Professor McGonagall.
A flick, the vase returned. Ron focused his mind.
"Inlusio!" Ron said.
This time, the vase blended in.
"Suppose I wanted it to be one sided?" Harry asked, "I can see through but the other side is…opaque?"
"Add uno modo," Hermione said, "So it'd be Uno Modo Inlusio."
Harry's holly wand swished.
"Watch out," Ron muttered.
"Uno Modo Inlusio!" Harry snapped as he flicked, at the door and the wall around it.
Beyond, the corridor, and students in canary yellow, in armor, working to hang effigies above, some worked on gluing strings to the floor.
Ring!
"Think you've got the hang of it," Professor McGonagall said, "Excuse me."
She went for the door, it returned to solid, and she went out.
"Good thinking," Ron said, "Fancy lunch?"
Ron grabbed his book–bag, Harry already had his Portkey out.
"We're not done for the day," Hermione said.
"I'm using this," Harry said, "Come."
Hermione groaned, touched the Hogwarts Pin. Ron touched it as Harry activated it. A pull and a jerk behind the naval, the short distance, and they landed in the dormitory.
"Know what Dumbledore would say?" Hermione asked.
"You saw them," Harry said, "We'd be suspended before we got here."
"Yes but…" Hermione started.
Ron knew the defeat behind those eyes at the same time an owl showed up.
"I'm not going to bet on those wagers working," Harry said as he took the note from the owl. "Besides, Dumbledore already caught on."
"Dobby happy to help Harry Potter!" said the House Elf, next to the table, lunch already on it.
Late that afternoon, Light began to fade before Ron caught Harry's glance. Harry was anxious to return, so Ron blew on the whistle, caught the Quaffle. Ron flew his Firebolt back down to the grass, Harry did. They turned, the Minister in his sky blue robes, stood there with a couple of Aurors.
"Sorry for this," the Minister said, "But we don't want any misunderstandings for Saturday, right?"
Ron and Harry handed their brooms over to Archer. All three book–bags slung over her shoulders, Hermione joined as they went up the path, and made their way to the castle. Wands in their hands, they entered, and went a bit slower. Harry glanced upward, pointed at the effigies ready to drop, to the floor where there was a wire here, there, a rope ready to pounce.
"Ta," Ron said, knew Harry's eyes to be better at this.
"Three hundred to three," Hermione muttered.
Harry climbed up onto the banister. Foot over foot, Harry walked up the handrail, jumped at the top. Ron and Hermione worked up, a stream of water showed here and there, and came to the top along with Harry.
"Come," Harry said.
"Should set a new destination," Hermione said.
"That's…" Ron said, "No, not there, we knock."
To the second floor, Harry stepped onto the ascending stairs. Ron and Hermione behind him, and they rose. Harry knocked on the doors to the Headmaster's office.
"Enter," came the Headmaster's voice.
"You wanted to see us," Harry said, letter in hand.
They went up to stand in front of the desk, the old man sat behind it in his ornate chair, the frail hand covered a bit of parchment.
"First," the Headmaster said, "I hope your performance during practice is an indication of the game."
"Always should be," Ron said, watching those blue eyes that twinkled back at him, always a test of skill now.
"A second day without incident," the Headmaster said, "Unfortunately, that's a feat for this year, probably with reason."
"Wagers," Hermione said, "They're betting on the game—if those two can't show up, all money is apparently promised to us."
"Sounds like Ginny," Ron said.
"Alas," the Headmaster said, "Incentive."
"Not stopping everybody," Harry said, "Still got traps nipping at our heels."
"Traps?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Little things," Ron said, knew he was about to exaggerate a bit, "Snare here, trip wire there, puddles emerge to cause us to slip, things falling when we approach, poisoned candy left on our beds, all the little things. Nerves take a beating here."
"Alas," the Headmaster said, "A chance to be extra careful and cautious."
"We're learning," Harry said.
"Good," Professor Dumbledore said, "Have a pleasant evening."
Harry took out his Hogwarts Pin, activated it. Ron grabbed on first, Hermione next. An echo from the past, a word came to Ron, as he changed his mind, his finger slipped off the pin before Harry and Hermione vanished. Ron tumbled forward, regained his balance.
"Mr. Weasley?" Professor Dumbledore asked as he rose to his feet.
Ron stood there as the Headmaster sat.
"Never tried that before," Ron said, "Make Harry think it was an accident."
"Something on your mind?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
"We do need something," Ron said, "Apparation training."
"You know the law," Dumbledore said.
"Tell Harry that," Ron said, "He's doing it."
Those blue eyes twinkled, Ron understood the intent.
"Not directly but close enough," Ron said, "He's figured out how to trip his accidental magic and he's with her or me or Hermione."
"Monday?" the Headmaster asked.
"Haven't a clue!" Ron said, "But it fits, though I've never apparated before."
"That you can remember," Professor Dumbledore said.
A hint in those blue eyes, the younger Dumbledore talking to his Mum at the Burrow, Ron as a toddler vanishing as much younger Charlie chased. Unsure if he was deliberately being fed it, still, Ron didn't mind seeing it.
"Ta—I'd love all you can remember of her," Ron said, "But I'm worried—what if Harry splinches?"
Ron spotted the familiar wince, the one every wizard or witch knew once they learned what a splinch was.
"I'll be seventeen next month," Ron said, "When do I apply for a license?"
"The Minister signs it," the Headmaster said, "Usually to tuck it into a birthday card if you're quick enough on the training—politics."
"I'm not getting one, am I?" Ron said.
"Unlikely," the Headmaster said.
"Then we most definitely need training," Ron said.
"You wouldn't know how it's enforced," the Headmaster said, "I wouldn't make it to the Hospital Wing if I tried to help you circumvent that law."
"Oh, sorry," Ron said.
"If only I had the Sorting Hat to advise me," the Headmaster said.
"Sorry to have bothered you," Ron said, turned his thoughts to Harry as the blue eyes twinkled.
"You asked a favor," Professor Dumbledore said, "Only fair I ask one."
"Um…" Ron muttered.
"I lent Harry several books a few months ago," the Headmaster said, "I think you've read them."
"Um…" Ron repeated, deflecting the inquisition with a desire to bang Hermione.
"Urges of youth," Professor Dumbledore said, "Wonder I hadn't considered it earlier, but a very sensible decision to share that reading with a friend, am I right?"
"Maybe," Ron said.
"I am curious to how far you have progressed," the Headmaster said, "Expect Severus to test you."
"Already has," Ron stated.
"You mean he was unaware," Professor Dumbledore said, "Study up."
Ron sighed. Puff of flame, Fawkes appeared on the perch. Ron went over, admired the crimson red and gold bird, the one that gave a piercing glance back, and Ron wondered if this bird was aware, the encouragement it seeded back into Ron.
"He has a particular fondness for Gryffindors," Professor Dumbledore said, "Perhaps you don't mind collecting a few tears?"
"Don't think I can make him cry," Ron said.
"No, don't think you could," the Headmaster said, "A credit to you—"
Ron thought a bit about Harry as he studied the bird.
"And how you've protected Harry," the Headmaster said.
Ron turned back around. He returned to the desk.
"I've focused on his physical safety," Professor Dumbledore said, "You've…a life means nothing if he's dead."
"He's just as dead if there's no meaningful life to live for," Ron said, "I'll risk physical safety for that."
"Two sides to guardianship," the Headmaster said.
Ron's finger pushed on the desk.
"I've shared a dormitory, I've slept in the same bed as him, I've been a friend to him, so I know Harry as well as he'll let anybody know him," Ron said, "You, you watch from afar, thinking you know better. Mum even Dad always said to talk to you ask you what to do, they outsourced their brains to you, have to share everything, and hope you've got a good idea."
Ron waited, knew that mind was working the response.
"Know how tiring it gets?" Professor Dumbledore said, "Not once has anybody offered up a good holiday instead."
Ron snorted.
"Got one?" Ron said, "Harry and Gia can escape to a secluded beach, no witnesses, let them be a couple for Valentine's day, no clothes?"
"If you do find that secluded beach," Professor Dumbledore said, "Send an invitation my way."
Ron snorted.
"Before Harry suspects it anything but an accident," Ron said as he pulled out his Portkey.
"Have a good evening," the Headmaster said.
Ron tapped, felt the jerk behind the naval, and left Hogwarts.
Minutes earlier, Harry activated his Portkey in the Headmaster's office. Ron grabbed first. Hermione next. A shock, a stumble, Ron's finger slipped as the jerk behind the naval.
"Ron!" Harry shouted.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Of all the blokes!" Harry said as he and Hermione landed in Gia's bedroom, "Ron knows how a Portkey works!"
"It's Ron," Hermione said, "Go back?"
Harry pulled his robes off, sat on the bed.
"He's got his own," Harry said.
Harry reached behind him, pulled out Practical Legilimens and Occlumency.
"You're persistent," Hermione said as she sat on the bed.
"Whether you want to do Legilimency—that's you," Harry said, "You need to master Occlumency or you're an open book, a walking advertisement."
"That bad?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Harry said.
Green eyes stared into brown eyes, she breathed steady yet shallow. After she shivered, Harry let up.
"You're…" Hermione started.
"Like I said, you're bloody easy," Harry said as he stood, "Too easy, understand that I could go for anything I wanted."
"It's not fair!" Hermione said, "You've had—"
"Life's not fair," Harry stated.
"I know!" Hermione snapped.
Her eyes focused on him.
"Sorry," Hermione said.
"As a friend, I keep it light," Harry said, "Your feelings for me, Ron or something like that. Somebody like Snape won't spare you."
"I know," Hermione said.
"You've read the books," Harry said, "An essay, at least one foot, per chapter."
"You assigning essays?" Hermione asked.
Harry reached into his book–bag, pulled out stack of parchment held together with elastic bands.
"Ron and I did these," Harry set them down. "Don't tell me you're afraid of essay work."
"No," Hermione said.
Harry stuck his tongue out at her, Ron landed.
"What's going on?" Ron asked.
"Harry's about to bang me," Hermione stated.
"What's the event?" Ron asked, eyes turned to Harry.
"Assigned her essays," Harry said, putting the stack back into his book–bag.
"Figures," Ron said, "Sorry about slipping, dunno how that happened."
Harry unsure if Ron was being truthful.
"Dumbledore advised it best to wait," Ron said, "You know, as they're unregistered, best to space out using `em both."
"You ought to know how to use a Portkey," Hermione said.
"Accidents happen," Ron said, "Like Harry pissing the bed."
"Hey!" Harry snapped.
"You do," Hermione stated.
"Made use of it." Ron reached, grabbed the outback hat, the disguised Sorting Hat. "Asked about Apparation training."
"Fat chance?" Hermione asked.
"Worth the ask," Ron said, "So hat, how'd we train up for Apparation without getting licensed?"
"An instructor is advised," the Sorting Hat said, "One who isn't licensed."
"What's the restriction with the license?" Harry asked.
"A license magically binds one to never aid another in apparation outside approved protocols," the Sorting Hat said, "Penalties for violations are harsh."
"Since everybody gets a license," Harry said, "Nobody bothers outside legalities, right?"
"You don't want to apparate without a license," Hermione said.
"Minister signs them," Ron said, "Guess the odds of us getting them."
"You only have to wait a month," Harry said, "I've got five more."
"Can you help us train up?" Ron asked the hat.
"A proper instructor—" the Sorting hat started.
"We're not getting licenses," Harry said, "How many other restrictions are there?"
"Um…" Hermione muttered, "More than one."
"Sorting hat, please," Harry said, "Bet we didn't need licenses when you were created."
"No," the Sorting Hat said.
"Red tape is a Slytherin thing," Ron said.
"Suggest you start by reading what you already have," the Sorting Hat said.
"Thank you," Harry said.
Harry glanced at Ron, Hermione.
"Got the Apparation Theory book," Hermione pointed at the bookshelf.
Gia opened the bedroom door.
"Dinner's ready," Gia said, "That includes you." She pointed at Harry. "Come."
Harry groaned.
"You're marrying her," Ron said.
Harry felt the shove, Ron's hands to the back, and so Harry followed Gia.
Harry woke Friday Morning to the hoarseness in his throat, the wet spot beneath him. Off the bed, he met up with Richard on the upper landing.
"Can we disinvite my Mum?" Richard whispered.
"I know," Harry grumbled.
Harry followed Richard down the steps, into the living room. Kristen was already there, a pair of protective vests in her hands.
"I can handle—" Harry started.
"Contracts on you!" Kristen said, "A little protection—"
"Is that the insurance adjuster?" Richard asked.
"What?" Kristen asked as she went to the window.
Harry was two steps down, grabbed Richard's shoulder. A breeze, their feet onto the footpath next to a field, the familiar lights of Noigate a bit in the distance that glowed off the clouds above.
"Okay," Harry said, "So I can do it."
Richard's eyes turned toward Harry.
"Didn't know if it'd work," Harry admitted.
"Better think of something for my Mum," Richard said.
Their leg muscles flexed as they ran.
"She'll try jail," Richard said, "Escaping from that's not going to land you on her good side."
"If they gave me training," Harry said, "I'd control it better, but…nope. That's not happening."
"Was a bit weird," Richard said.
Harry went up, over the stile, jumped. Harry turned, waited. He watched Richard climb up and climb down.
"Suddenly here," Richard said.
They moved, the warmish air, the clouds above, and a breeze that actually felt a bit good.
"I get used to it," Harry said, "Number of times I'd show up to Gia in the girls' locker room at school."
"Or at the magic show?" Richard asked.
"Yep," Harry said.
They followed the trail, the lights came closer as the daylight grew. Harry glanced about, couldn't spot Moody anywhere.
"Something up?" Richard asked.
"Not sure," Harry said, "Maybe its nothing."
A turn onto Oak Street, and both of them continued, however, Harry slowed down. Ahead, a man hid behind a hedge obscured cutout in the fence in front, something black and narrow sighted at him. Harry pushed Richard down.
Crack! Crack!
Harry stopped, watched two long bullets, slugs of teflon coated lead, come to a stop in front of him in the air. Harry's right hand plucked them, put them into his left hand, when it rang out again.
Crack! Crack!
Again, two more bullets stopped inches away from his chest. Harry picked those, tossed them into his hand. Harry's eyes twitched, spotted it, the rifle. A flash, Harry's wand in his hand, and the rifle disintegrated.
"Weird," Richard said.
Harry shrugged his shoulders, cradled the lead in his left fingers and ran. Harry now oblivious to the guy pounding his fist into a car window.
"Okay," Richard said, "So you don't need a vest."
"Wizards are… a bit tougher," Harry said, "You might need it."
They ran up the steps to 26 Oak Street, entered, only to be met by Kristen, now in her police uniform, her eyes wide on Harry.
"You should know—" Kristen started.
"Here," Harry said, handed over the bullets, "They didn't seem to need them anymore."
"So the report's correct?" Kristen said, "Except you stopped to collect—"
"Mum!" Richard said, "He's fine."
"Saved you the time," Harry said, "Got school to get to."
Harry went up the stairs, into the bathroom. Hands to the knobs, he stepped into the shower.
"Kristen seemed a bit—flustered," Hermione said as she entered the bathroom.
"Nothing much," Harry said, "Bit of a run."
"She doesn't seem to remember you actually leaving the house," Hermione said, "Nor does the report of shots fired help her."
Harry grabbed the towel, used it to dry as he left the bathroom, and entered Gia's bedroom. Ron still laying on the bed.
"Were you shot at?" Gia asked while putting on the protective vest.
"So?" Harry asked.
"It's to him," Ron said, "Don't worry there—I mean, getting shot at—was that fun?"
"He missed," Harry said, "Um…school."
Harry turned to Gia, her blouse now on, hugged her.
"Don't go make light of it," Gia said.
Harry kissed her, her lips.
"Take a shortcut?" Harry asked.
"How?" Gia asked.
A point of his hands, her purse, her book bag, and her jumper came to them. He closed his eyes, thought about it, the desire to be there. A breeze, a squeak, and he opened his eyes, they were on the footbridge behind the school.
"You were the one complaining about Kristen's car being too quick," Gia said.
Gia kissed, and they went for the portable classroom. A growl, Snuffles came in fast behind them, another growl.
"Sorry for not calling you out," Harry said.
Snuffles went up the steps first, and they entered. Classroom otherwise empty, Harry spotted it, knew he'd get chewed at, simply closed his eyes.
"You are!" Ron stammered, now standing, now glaring at Harry.
"Getting better at it," Harry said.
"Did she make it?" Ron asked.
"Huh?" Harry asked.
"It's supposed to be FATAL to muggles," Ron said.
"What?" Harry said, "Second time."
"At least read up before you risk another life," Ron said, "It's not supposed to happen!"
"What are you two going on about?" Hermione asked as she entered the bedroom.
"Settle it," Ron said to Harry, "Ask her."
"Thinks I shouldn't be apparating," Harry said.
"You're not licensed," Hermione said.
Ron handed Harry the Apparation Theory.
"Read this—your test is in six months, bit slow," Ron said, "Once you've mastered it—teach us."
"Okay, okay," Harry said, blowing off imaginary dust from the book, "Suppose there's a charm in here?"
Ron shook his head.
"Need to head to class," Hermione said.
"I'm hungry," Ron said.
"Here," Ron said, pulling out his Portkey.
Book–bags slung over their shoulders, Ron activated, Harry and Hermione held on.
"Guess that's one way to make sure you don't slip," Harry said.
Ron groaned, and their feet hit the floor of the sixth year boys dormitory.
"Third day in a row," Harry said, "Maybe it'll be habit forming?"
"Doubt it," Ron said, "Lucky to last Monday."
Harry went over to Neville's window, stared out over the lake, the woods in the distance, in mostly darkness, realized how far Noigate was in relation to Hogwarts, both in real distance and between him to the students.
McGonagall heard the bell, the final class before lunch, when she read into Hermione Granger's essay. She switched from the red to the blue quill, began to annotate when the knock came at the door.
"Enter," McGonagall said.
Pink knitted cardigan, adorned in cats, the fake smile, Delores Umbridge entered. With her, Rita Skeeter, Narcissa Malfoy.
"Pardon the interruption but we're afraid this could not wait," said Delores Umbridge, "Nor could we accept the risk of the owl not finding its way."
A fourth person entered, an stocky man in a brown suit. Delores Umbridge handed over a letter. Minerva opened.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Professor Minerva McGonagall
I hereby resign my position from the Hogwarts Gryffindor Quidditch Team.
Harry James Potter
"We saved him the time," Delores Umbridge said, "And the headache."
"I do not accept forgeries," McGonagall said.
"We thought you might say that," Delores Umbridge said as she handed over another letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Permission for Harry James Potter to play on the Hogwarts Gryffindor Quidditch Team is hereby revoked by his legal guardian, he is to cease playing and practicing immediately. His broom is to be forfeited for a more thorough examination.
Delores Jane Umbridge, Chairwitch to the Harry Potter Guidance Committee
"You are not the guardian of record," McGonagall said.
"Do we need to—I guess we do," Delores Umbridge said as she handed over a third letter.
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Professor and Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry James Potter's legal guardianship has been assigned to the Harry Potter Guidance Committee for all matters. Your compliance with Delores Jane Umbridge in the exercise of her duties is required. Failure to comply will result in sanctions.
Victor Fallerschain, Minister for Magic
"I am sorry," McGonagall said, "Hogwarts recognizes the authority of the muggle family courts in this matter, which gave Harry Potter sole custody of his own affairs. If that is invalidated, in light of the deaths of his relatives in the summer, custody reverts to his godfather, appointed by his parents before their deaths. As to Hogwarts, all changes in guardianship must be approved by the Headmaster."
"You're being an obstruction!" said Delores Umbridge.
"If I may," said the stocky man, "Douglas Durlocks, youth psychiatrist at St. Mungo's, and also a member of the committee. I've studied Potter, and he's temperamental at best. I expect grave tragedy at tomorrow's game if he's allowed to participate and use his Dark Arts. Think of the other students."
"That's a serious accusation," McGonagall said, "I'm as concerned as you are."
McGonagall reached behind her at the bookshelf, quickly brought the first book to the table, hoped Delores wouldn't read the title, Unfogging the Future. A fast open, she skimmed it, landed her finger on a section about reading tea leaves.
"Luckily we have rules governing these situations," McGonagall said, "Unfortunately, Mr. Potter has already entered into a magical binding contract, he's obligated to practice and play at tomorrow's game. The consequences for breaking it, dire. Your committee is about guiding him, not killing him, right?"
"You're being difficult," Delores Umbridge.
"Does this contract affect all players?" asked Narcissa Malfoy.
"As House Prefect," McGonagall said, "Draco is not bound by the contract, the other team members are."
"Certainly there are exceptions," said Rita Skeeter.
"Ordinarily I could ask the Sorting Hat as arbiter," McGonagall said, "However, the Minister for Magic saw fit to destroy it, therefore, we are all stuck to our assignments. I wish there was a way I could help, unfortunately, there is not, the game and practice will continue as scheduled."
"We're not getting any luck here," said Delores Umbridge, "Come, lets see if the Minister can speak to the board of governors for us, perhaps issue a suspension to avert tragedy."
Minerva McGonagall felt a bit of pleasure and relief as she watched the lady in pink leave her office, along with the other three.
Harry read the page, unsure if he agreed with its theory on how a wizard could reappear elsewhere, as it'd seemed like he just had to wish it to be somewhere else. Still, he read, which was more interesting than the Greek on the board as Professor Vector lectured at the front of this seventh floor classroom; Professor McGonagall sat to the side, taking notes as she observed. Harry caught Ron's glance, the hand inking on Quidditch diagrams, the blue eyes.
"Wish…?" Harry muttered.
Harry understood as he knew Ron did, that Hermione needed her Arithmacy fix, and neither would tolerate her attending class by herself anymore, a sign of how messed up their lives at Hogwarts had become, the castle and most of its students now rejecting them. A glance, a fidget, a stare from the other students in that classroom, Harry didn't need Legilimency to understand the apprehension, the fear, the hatred, he now brought to them.
"Last class," Ron whispered.
Harry turned his attention away from the Apparation Theory in his hands, watched Ron's hand sketch out more diagrams of the Quidditch Pitch, the moves needed for better Quaffle passing or similar.
"I repeat," said the thin Marcus Belby, the seventh year Ravenclaw, "Can we not have them?"
"They are under my direct supervision," Professor McGonagall said.
Harry didn't appreciate the reminder, but still sat there.
"Please Septima," Professor McGonagall said.
Hermione diligently took notes, attentive in her watching Professor Vector at the lectern. Harry flipped the pages, unsure how much of this actually mattered, he figured he already had the doing–it part down.
Ring!
"Reminder about your essays are due Monday," said Professor Vector.
Harry caught the glares from the others leaving, still Professor McGonagall approached.
"Ordinarily medals of valor would not be in consideration," Professor McGonagall said, "Still, at least it doesn't invalidate my bet for tomorrow."
"Ta," Harry said.
"After practice, the Headmaster wants to see the three of you," Professor McGonagall said, "Do not disappoint."
Hermione sighed, though she left the classroom. Ron and Harry walked with her. Some footsteps to the other end of the corridor, suits of metal.
"There—" came the shout.
Harry aimed his wand.
"Inlusio!" Harry shouted.
Entire corridor, the entire floor vanished, the classrooms, the offices below showed. Everybody else stopped, fast. Hermione had already given the password; Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Good thinking," Ron said.
"They're likely going to complain," Hermione said.
Harry stepped high, avoided the first step, and they went up the steps.
"Not like I destroyed anything," Harry said, "It'll come back."
Harry aimed, rope burned away.
"Did you tug at my hair?" Ron asked.
"Why would I?" Hermione asked.
"I'll tug at yours?" Ron asked.
"Please," Harry said, "Don't disappoint Ginny with a suspension."
Harry reached the dormitory, went over, and began to change into his Quidditch Robes.
"Got two," Hermione said, "Give me one, I'll go home, while you two practice."
Harry turned for her.
"Best if you're watching our backs," Harry said.
Harry turned back, pulled his Quidditch Robes on.
"What he said," Ron said, "Read his book if you're bored."
"Months until you're able to apply," Hermione said.
"Mostly hogwash," Harry said.
"To you it's easy," Ron said, "Takes—it requires that book."
"Says I can't take muggles along with me," Harry said as he went for the door.
"You're not supposed to!" Ron shouted as he ran after him.
"Can we walk?" Hermione asked.
Harry slowed down fast, went along the seventh floor corridor, the floor still disillusioned.
"Um…" Ron said.
"It's still a floor," Harry said.
"Cancel it?" Hermione asked.
Harry aimed his wand. "Finite Incantatem!"
"Better?" Harry asked as the marble tiled floor returned.
Harry kept his wand drawn, in his hand, scanned the floor, the stairs, jumped the odd step, as they went down. To the front door, out, they headed in the strong winds under fair skies above.
"Another practice?" asked the Minister, who stood there.
Harry took his Firebolt from the Auror, one leg over it, and soared up into the air. A burden relieved, even in the strong wind. He took a lap of the stands, Hermione sat in the top box.
…
"Get what you needed?" the Keeper asked.
"Doubt Potter noticed his haircuts," the Seeker said, "Enough for ages."
"Not necessarily," the Chaser said.
"You haven't even gotten the prototype working," the Seeker said.
"Research's rarely instant," the Chaser said, "Breeding program is going smoothly."
"Which witch?" the Seeker asked.
The Chaser slapped the Seeker. "Not THAT!"
"How soon to your next action?" the Keeper asked.
"Not today," the Seeker said, "I wagered heavily on tomorrow's game."
"Goblins catch you tampering—" the Chaser started.
"Relax—wasn't even me," the Seeker said, "It's all under control."
…
Quidditch practice continued as Harry flew, practiced spotting and catching the Snitch, until Ron blue the whistle. Harry landed and handed his Firebolt over to the Minister. Ron and Hermione joined him; all three went up the hill toward the castle.
"Lets get to the office before we celebrate and jinx this," Ron said.
A flick of motion in the periphery of his eyes, Harry jumped as the large rat lunged at him. Harry turned, spotted it heading for Ron.
"WATCH OUT!" Harry shouted, a blast from his wand, and the rat went limp.
"Ta," Ron said as he came up fast.
"Maybe they wanted more opportunities to collect bounties," Harry said.
Hermione followed up the rear, and they entered through the heavy oak doors. Harry's wand still drawn, a wire ahead melted, life–sized effigies dropped from the ceiling, caught fire and melted.
"Maybe," Ron said.
Harry as he climbed the marble stairs. More water on the tile, Harry's arms out fast as he slid, kept his balance, and he walked along the corridor. Ron and Hermione followed him onto the ascending stairs.
"Enter," came the Headmaster's voice.
Harry pushed in first. Professors McGonagall and Tonks were already there.
"I won the pool," the Headmaster said.
Harry glanced at those blue eyes, realized it was a gamble on their ability to last the three days.
"It is one I was willing to lose," said Professor McGonagall.
"Are we…" Professor Tonks asked.
"One left to go," said the Headmaster.
Harry wondered, his nerves had him glance upward toward the paintings on the ceiling. He noticed some had been shifted from what he remembered, around a new one. Harry stepped closer to study it.
"I quite like it," said Professor McGonagall.
Quidditch pitch, the trees in the background, the grass below, and front and center on a Firebolt was him in his Gryffindor Quidditch Robes.
"A very talented first year student painted that yesterday," Professor Dumbledore said, "Thought it safest to store it here."
Harry understood why.
"An excellent reminder that Hogwarts isn't as lost as it may seem," the Headmaster said.
"Time is being squandered," said the greasy voice of Severus Snape.
"Alas," Professor Dumbledore said, "Come."
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.
"An invitation to the Order—" the Headmaster started.
"We already declined membership," Ron stated.
"Wise," Professor Snape sneered.
"Only members can attend," Professor Tonks said.
"I made an exception," said the Headmaster, "Though if you can persuade them to join, that would be welcome news."
"Dreadful news," Professor Snape said.
"I could use a bit of help," Professor Dumbledore said, "I get a bit dizzy."
Harry stepped up, let the old man hold his elbow, the cane looped over the wrist, and slowly marched to the fireplace with him. A trembling hand, the Headmaster dropped the Floo Powder.
"Lupin's Manor!" Dumbledore exclaimed.
Green flame, the familiar spin, Harry felt the unsteadiness in the hand, went carefully as they stepped stepped out into the crowded room around a long yet large oval table.
"Thank you Harry," Dumbledore said, his hand trembled as he brought the cane back down, "Need to speak to Poppy about her latest brew."
"How much Firewhiskey did you add, Albus?" asked McGonagall, behind them.
"No comment," Dumbledore said.
Harry snorted, snickered. Around a large table, many were already, some Harry recognized fast, like Fred, George, Arthur, and Bill Weasley, or Lupin and Moody. Others took a moment, as if the memory came from a picture ages ago, like Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"This is for adults," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, his eyes toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"They are legally adults," Arthur Weasley said.
"Before we get tangled up," Dumbledore said as he sat at the head of the table, the closest to the fireplace, "Some of us may be hungry, so manners. Please Dobby."
A pop, the House Elf in his tea cozy showed, levitated out platters to the table.
"No obligation to sit until the meeting," Dumbledore said.
A glare from Snape, Harry stood, while Ron went to the table. Hermione worked herself a salad, while Ron went for the fried chicken.
"All spiffy," George said.
"Buzz off," Ron said.
Harry glanced between the two.
"Didn't see you this morning," Moody said, "At least not until you got back to your street."
"Oh…that?" Harry said, "Yeah, didn't start off normally."
"Nor did it end normally," Moody said, "Those things are supposed to get wizards too."
"Didn't," Harry said.
"I saw that," Moody said.
Harry shrugged, went over to Arthur Weasley.
"Ginny's excited for the game tomorrow too," Mr. Weasley said.
"Edward?" Harry asked.
"Emily offered to watch him," Mr. Weasley said, "Think she fancies Ron."
"Think Ron's taken," Harry said.
"Doesn't stop the imagination," Mr. Weasley said, "Nor the wishful thinking."
Harry turned, sat at the table, the darkness of the windows to the other side. Harry waited until the plates emptied, and the others joined up; Ron and Hermione to his immediate right, Fred and George beyond. Dumbledore was to Harry's left.
"Eighteen," Dumbledore said, "Healthy turnout."
"Would've been nineteen," Amelia Bones said, "Except Sturgis Podmore was picked up on charges of being a Dark Wizard this morning—he's already been kissed."
Gasps came from around the room.
"My condolences," Dumbledore said, "Lets get this meeting started."
"Are they members?" asked Mundungus Fletcher, pointed between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"Would you like to be?" asked Arthur Weasley, "We can certainly use you."
"Already declined," Ron said.
"He's not an impostor," Fred said.
Harry shook his head.
"Not sure if you've all met Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, "Also, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger."
"Keeping me busy," said Mad–eye Moody.
Dumbledore sipped from his drink.
"It took me time to understand their motives," Dumbledore said, "I concur, they cannot afford the distraction that'd be imposed on them. "
"Sure young blood is needed," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, "If they're not members, no reason for them to be here. My fight's against Voldemort, not their problems."
"Potter's made a mess of things," said Snape, "No good bringing his problems here."
"Tom Riddle, who calls himself Voldemort, is expending his resources to bring these three down," Dumbledore said, "Surely you can't ignore that, Kingsley. These three have fought against him, maybe more than some of us have. We share the common interest in bringing Tom Riddle down."
"That's nice and eloquent," Hestia Jones said, "I'd welcome them into the order if they desired membership, but they should be members to attend."
"An alliance or even affiliate membership," Dumbledore said, "But tonight concerns their welfare and they deserve a voice."
"What about my welfare?" Harry snapped at the old man, those blue twinkling eyes instinctively fought Harry's glare.
"A report this morning about you," Amelia Bones said.
A glance at her eyes and Harry knew.
"Nothing major," Harry said.
"Kristen thought—" Amelia Bones started.
"They missed!" Harry stood up.
"Who?" Dumbledore asked.
"Some bloke on my run," Harry said.
"People shooting at you isn't minor," Arthur Weasley said.
Harry pointed at Snape. "My problems are my own, not yours."
"I beg to differ," Dumbledore said, "But, as Remus has to remind me, you're an adult. Have a different idea Mr. Potter?"
Harry turned his head, all those eyes that were on him, and he got to McGonagall. Harry sat.
"Know what your committee tried?" McGonagall said, before she explained their visit that morning.
"Thank you," Harry said to her.
"Quidditch is known to induce violence among its players," Snape sneered.
"Slytherin's a perfect example," Hermione snapped.
Harry caught the smiles of Fred and George at her.
"All this banter isn't helping!" Shacklebolt said, "Severus, you had news?"
"Fat as usual," Fred whispered.
"You're looking?" Harry whispered across Ron and Hermione toward Fred.
"I have met once since last week," Snape said, "As usual, they kept mum on most things."
"Yeah," Harry said, "Voldemort doesn't trust you."
"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.
Dumbledore's blue eyes tried to pierce into Harry, but Harry returned the thought of that new painting in the Headmaster's office.
A moment of silence.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"If Potter lets me continue," Snape said, "They are aware of the bounties, and I suspect they had motive behind it. They are also aware of this EM, but I could not discern more—it's Potter's problem anyway."
"This EM raped my daughter! Attacked Ron and Hermione!" Arthur Weasley erupted, glared at Snape, finger to the table, "My wife lost her life sparing theirs. So, tell me how that is merely Harry's problem—it's all of ours, same with the galleons placed on their heads."
"Word's on the street," Mundungus Fletcher said, "Seek EM to collect, they're organizing them."
Harry stood.
"Fail to see the urgency," said Snape, "Potter's problem."
Harry glared at those dark eyes, ones that tried to fight, to uncover ghosts in the past.
"Yours if the bounties work!" Hermione snapped at Snape.
Harry spotted it in the potions master fighting back, the gaze, searching, the hatred surfacing. How Harry embodied the reminder of the wizard who'd stole away his true love.
"Really?" Harry demanded of Snape, "You'd hate me, you'd betray me for that? You disgusting—"
"Harry!" Ron snapped.
Harry bolted, ran down the stairs. Ron chased.
"How about a confession to what we've been studying?" Ron asked of Harry.
Harry turned for the red haired boy in the Quidditch Robes, the blue eyes that peered the short distance down to his.
"Striking Snape down ain't going to help you," Ron said.
"Did you see?" Harry asked.
"Be better than him," Ron said, "Let Snape jump into his bed of snakes."
"Sorry," Harry said.
"I'm trying to keep you together," Ron said, "Wanna stay here?"
Harry shook his head.
"Alright," Ron said, "Lets go."
Harry started back up the stairs, the voices carried.
"To skip out on a meeting for a business deal," said Shacklebolt, "When you're telling us about why Voldemort is after Potter."
"Are we talking about that prophesy?" McGonagall said, "Divination is—"
"Sibyll was right on several occasions," Dumbledore said, "Voldemort took it seriously."
Harry stepped back up into the living room, a gap and empty chair where Mundungus Fletcher had been. Ron went over and whispered to Hermione. Harry grabbed his book–bag from the floor, a leg from his school trousers stuck out of it, and put the strap over his shoulder.
"Is it too much to remain civilized?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes toward Harry and Ron.
"Sorry," Harry said, "Shacklebolt's right, my presence is hampering things."
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said.
"See you at the game," Harry said, heading for the fireplace.
Ron and Hermione joined in as Harry dropped the Floo Powder.
"Percy Weasley!" Harry shouted.
"Checkmate," said George.
Green flame, the spin, they stepped out into the cold dark flat, only street lamps from outside gave them any vision.
"He'll charge you," Ron said.
Harry pulled out his Portkey, activated it. Ron and Hermione held on. Jerk behind the naval, they were pulled along.
"Didn't want to advertise," Harry said.
They landed in Noigate.
"Everything okay?" Gia asked, on the bed.
"Dumbledore sprang a meeting on us," Harry said, "Sorry."
Harry turned, gave Hedwig a few strokes, and fed her an owl treat. He left the bedroom, went through Richard's bedroom, out onto the roof deck, into the dark of the evening. One foot, two feet, Harry let the hot water come up to his neck. Richard came out, sat on the ledge with his feet in the idle hot water.
"My Mum wants to drive you to this game tomorrow," Richard said.
"She's not going," Harry said.
"That'll go over as well as Ant's shoplifting habits," Richard said.
A thought of money, Harry wondered what business deal Mundungus Fletcher had.
Percy had already ignored the buzz he felt hours earlier, feet stretched onto his desk in the cubicle, leaned back against his chair, the folder with sheets of numbers as he estimated the debits versus the credits. A yawn, he leaned back too far as his eyelids began to protest, and he fell to the side. A catch, he glanced at the clock, hours past him punching out.
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"Attention all personnel," came the announcement, "Storage of leftover haggis in the lunchroom refrigerator is prohibited. Also, the lifts will be shutdown in ten minutes for routine maintenance."
Percy set the folder to the side, grabbed his briefcase and hat, stood, and walked. Into the first lift, it descended fast.
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"Atrium, have a nice evening and weekend."
Percy left the small hall.
"I did nothing!" protested Mundungus Fletcher, in the arms of Aurors, being forcibly escorted toward the lifts. "It was a setup!"
Percy smirked, knew they all said something similar, a man he remembered that tried to peddle dubious cauldrons to his mother, or the hours Fred or George listened to the tall tales. Percy pulled out his wand, a flick, and disapparated.
Date: Mon Sep 4 05:58:12 2023
