Chapter 7: Truth Unfolding
The following week at Hogwarts was filled with an undercurrent of tension. The conflicts surrounding werewolf rights and the sacrifice of Remus Lupin mingled with whispers of conspiracy and growing skepticism toward the Ministry's actions. Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Ron, and Tracy gathered in the Library, each clutching a bundle of supporting statements from students who had been impacted by the events on the train. They were finally ready to unveil the truth about the Dementor attack and Remus Lupin's sacrifice.
As they attempted to construct a makeshift command center in the Library, with parchment, quills, and witness testimonies spread across multiple tables, they soon realized the potential consequences of using such a public space and just how much material they had collected. The looming threat of Madame Pince's wrath hung over them if they made too much noise or disrupted others.
Harry glanced at Hermione and voiced their collective concern. "We need somewhere else to gather and work on this. If we continue here, we'll either lose something crucial or risk getting kicked out."
Hermione nodded in agreement, her mind already racing with possibilities. "You're right, Harry. We have to find a private and secure location. Perhaps an empty classroom would be suitable."
Daphne interjected with determination. "Flitwick has been very supportive. Let's ask him for a place to meet. If we don't have the support of someone on the staff, we'll encounter even more obstacles."
They packed up their materials and made their way to Professor Flitwick's office. The room was filled with the warm glow of magical artifacts and the comforting scent of old books. The diminutive Charms professor looked up from his desk, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass, what brings you here?" Professor Flitwick inquired with a gentle smile.
Harry stepped forward, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Professor, we're working on that special project, and we need a private space to gather and organize our evidence. The Library is too public, and we don't want to risk our documents getting misplaced or attracting unwanted attention."
Hermione chimed in, her earnestness evident. "We want to compile a comprehensive report, but we need a secure location to work."
Professor Flitwick listened intently, his expression thoughtful. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded. "I understand the gravity of the situation. You have my support. I have an old unused classroom on the third floor. It's hidden behind a tapestry of dancing merfolk in the lake. It should provide you with the privacy and seclusion you need."
"Thank you, sir," Daphne said quietly. "May we use it for the year?"
"Certainly," Flitwick replied. "If anyone gives you any bother over it, tell them to come talk to me. I trust that given the seriousness of what you are attempting, that you'll not be abusing my trust by doing anything inappropriate."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, as the others nodded. "We'll only use it for our special projects and study time."
"Good," Flitwick said. "Carry on, then," he said with a gentle shooing motion toward the door.
As the group finally found and stood before the tapestry, depicting the animated merfolk in the lake swimming and leaping over a large rowboat containing wizards and witches, Harry reached out to pull the tapestry aside. The wall behind the tapestry was smooth, but yielded immediately when he touched it, revealing a hidden door that led to the forgotten room.
They stepped inside, a small bit of excitement palpable. The room was dusty, the air tinged with the scent of forgotten magic. The desks were arranged in a circle, as if anticipating a gathering of seekers of knowledge.
Daphne's eyes lit up with a faint smile. "This is perfect. Let's transform this room into our headquarters."
Hermione nodded in agreement, looking at the various pieces of furniture. "We'll need to push several of these desks together, since we need a large table to spread out and organize these statements."
Ron muttered quietly to Harry as everyone looked around the room. "And maybe find a few comfortable chairs, so we don't get sore bums from sitting for hours on end."
Daphne and Harry also continued their lessons with Professor Flitwick, learning the Patronus Charm on Saturday mornings. They stood in the Charms classroom, practicing the wand movements under Flitwick's watchful eye. So far, neither had been able to get anything more that the faintest wisps of magic to emerge with the charm.
"Daphne," Harry asked between practice motions, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "You said you would write to your father for additional details about my father and his friends. Did you get a chance to do that?"
Daphne paused in her movements, her eyes meeting Harry's. She clearly understood the weight of the question and the significance it held for him. "He said he didn't know much beyond the vague things I've already told you, but he said he'd ask around for others that knew about the Marauders."
Flitwick, who had been observing their practice silently, spoke up. "Ah, the Marauders! Such remarkable individuals they were. James, your father, was known for his mischievous nature, always ready for an adventure. Peter Pettigrew, the quiet and unassuming one who often appeared caught up in their pranks. Sirius Black, a charmer with a heart of gold. And you know of Remus Lupin, who remained loyal and kind-hearted to his friends."
Harry listened intently, his curiosity growing with each word. "But why would Sirius be accused of betraying my dad? I mean, everything I've heard about him suggests he was loyal."
Flitwick's eyes softened, a hint of nostalgia in his gaze. "Ah, you see, Harry, after Voldemort's downfall and your parents' tragic death, Sirius was accused of betraying them. It was believed that he had divulged the location of the Potters to Voldemort, leading to their untimely demise. But," Flitwick paused, his voice carrying a sense of conviction, "I find it incredibly difficult to fathom that Sirius, who cherished James like a brother, could ever commit such a heinous act."
Daphne nodded, her voice becoming softer. "When my parents talked about it at all, they too were puzzled. It's probably why his story still haunts the wizarding world."
Harry's mind raced with conflicting emotions. He couldn't reconcile the image of his father's loyal friend with that of a traitor. "I want to know the truth," he said, determination seeping into his words. "I want to find out what really happened."
Flitwick nodded at Harry's unwavering spirit. "Seeking the truth is a noble pursuit, Harry. It's essential to question, to dig deeper, and to form your own judgments. Remember, the world is rarely black and white. Perhaps you could talk to the other Staff here as well – well, not Severus, he was not on good terms with the four of them. Now, let's move on to trying this charm again, shall we?"
Flitwick got up and paced back and forth in front of them, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Now, remember, the key to producing a successful Patronus is focusing on a powerful and happy memory. Let the joy and warmth of that memory fill you completely. Harry, you first, please."
Harry took a deep breath, and tried to find his happy memory. With his eyes closed, he nearly shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" – and opened his eyes to see a faint wisp drifting from the tip of his wand a feeling of exhaustion.
"Well, your form and pronunciation were excellent," Flitwick said. "We just need to work on that memory a bit more, I believe."
Daphne glanced at Harry, and seemed deep in thought. "Harry, do you have a happy memory you can use?"
Harry sighed softly, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Honestly, Daphne, I don't have many good memories to draw upon. Most of my life has been filled with other things."
Daphne's sighed a bit, before giving him a gentle frown. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't realize. But surely there must be something, even a small glimmer of happiness?"
Harry mustered a faint smile, appreciating Daphne's understanding. "There is one memory that stands out. It's when I first arrived at Hogwarts. The moment I stepped into the Great Hall and felt this overwhelming sense of belonging."
Daphne nodded, her gaze filled with determination. "Hold onto that memory, Harry."
Flitwick hummed a bit, before saying, "We may want to discuss what else you might use next time, young Harry. Now, Daphne, it's your turn. Remember, don't over-think it. Magic flows best when it comes from within."
Daphne took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm herself. She glanced at Harry, clearly hesitant. "Professor, I find it difficult to just let go like you've described. I tend to over-analyze everything."
Flitwick chuckled softly, his voice gentle. "Ah, Daphne, as a Ravenclaw, I certainly understand your struggle. But remember, magic is not always about logic. It's also about tapping into your emotions, embracing your inner power."
Daphne nodded, determination shining in her eyes. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, raised her wand and exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!" A silvery mist erupted from her wand, and just as suddenly dissipated.
"Another good try," Flitwick said, "and your memory is probably close to correct. Your wand motion and pronunciation was also excellent, as you tend to do."
That evening, seeking solace in his own bed, Harry's eyes fell upon a particular photo within the album that Hagrid had given him. After carefully flipping through the pages, searching for any image that held the power to explain the accusations against Sirius Black, he found what he was looking for—an old photograph that captured a moment of laughter and camaraderie among his father and his friends.
When he arrived at their private classroom to work on the Remus Lupin and Dementor Attack report, Harry pulled the picture out to show his friends. "Hey, guys," Harry said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Look what I found."
He carefully held the photograph up for all to see. The photograph depicted Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter, standing close together, their faces radiating joy and mischief. There was an obvious camraderia and jostling in the picture as the figures poked and shoved each other a bit, before turning back to smile at the camera.
Daphne's eyes widened as she studied the image. "That's amazing, Harry! They look so happy together."
Hermione leaned closer, her brows furrowing. "Is that Remus Lupin?" she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.
Harry nodded, his gaze fixed on the picture. "Yes, that's him. And that has to be Peter Pettigrew, since we know who the other three were."
Daphne looked closer, and then turned to Harry. "Why does Peter seem slightly pained? His eyes are narrowed, like he's wincing."
Harry shrugged. "They were pranksters, who knows what someone was doing out of sight of the camera?"
Ron leaned in, his voice filled with intrigue. "Blimey, Harry! You've got proof that they were all friends. How can Sirius be guilty of betraying your dad if they were all so close?"
Tracy, who had been quietly observing, couldn't help but be drawn in. "It's hard to believe that someone in this picture could have turned their back on their friends. There must be more to the story."
Harry's voice trembled with a mix of determination and uncertainty. "That's something I need to find out. A single photo can't define the truth. So I'll keep digging into the Sirius issue when we're not trying to understand about the werewolves or why the Ministry is dodging the events on the train."
"We, Harry," Daphne said with a frown, "not just you. I'll certainly help you as I can."
The others murmured agreement, giving Harry a warm feeling in his heart. "Thanks," he said simply, afraid to try to say anything more at that moment before his feelings took over.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with anticipation as Moody, the renowned Auror, stood at the front, his magical eye scanning the eager third-year students. It was time for a lesson on simple yet dangerous dark creatures, and Moody's reputation preceded him.
"Listen up, you lot!" Moody's gravelly voice echoed through the room, instantly commanding attention. "Today, we're going to delve into the world of some wicked little creatures that can cause more trouble than you might think."
The students leaned forward in their seats, their curiosity piqued. Moody paced in front of the chalkboard, his wooden leg thudding against the stone floor. He gestured to a drawing of a peculiar-looking creature.
"First up, we've got the Krup. Small and unassuming, but don't be fooled by their appearance. They've got a nasty bite that can leave you in agony for days," Moody warned, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
He tapped his wand against the drawing, causing it to come to life. The Krup skittered across the board, showcasing its sharp fangs and agile movements. Moody's magical eye focused on each student, making sure they absorbed every detail.
"Now, these little devils are particularly fond of causing trouble around farms and livestock. You'll know you've got a Krup problem when your chickens start disappearing and your cows start acting skittish," Moody explained, his voice filled with a mix of caution and fascination.
A hand shot up from the back of the classroom, and Moody nodded toward the inquisitive student.
"What if we encounter a Krup, Professor Moody? How do we defend ourselves?" Seamus asked.
Moody's lips curled into a half-smile, revealing a hint of his battle-hardened nature. "Ah, good question. Krups may be small, but they're not invincible. The trick is to keep your distance and cast a well-aimed Stunning Spell. One hit, and they'll be down for the count. Remember, precision is key."
As the students scribbled notes, Moody moved on to the next creature on the list—the Hinkypunk. He conjured an image of a ghostly figure, illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern.
"The Hinkypunks, on the other hand, are mischievous spirits that like to lead travelers astray in marshy areas," Moody explained, his tone a mix of caution and intrigue. "They'll try to lure you off the path with their lanterns, leading you into treacherous terrain."
He tapped the drawing, and the Hinkypunk seemed to sway and flicker, its ghostly form ethereal and deceptive.
"But fear not," Moody continued. "The key to dealing with Hinkypunks is recognizing them for what they are. They may look like lost souls, but they're nothing more than dark creatures preying on the unsuspecting."
Hermione quickly raised her hand. Moody pointed at her, acknowledging the question. "What spell do we use against Hinkypunks, Professor Moody?" she asked.
Moody's magical eye focused on the eager student. "To repel Hinkypunks, you'll need to cast any kind of light charm. The light emitted will not only expose their true nature but also send them scurrying away. The more powerful, the better for you."
The classroom buzzed with a mix of excitement and determination. Moody had ignited a spark within the students, fueling their desire to learn and defend against the dark creatures that lurked in the wizarding world.
"Remember, class," Moody said, his voice carrying a hint of threat, "knowledge is power when it comes to facing these dark creatures. Stay vigilant, and never underestimate the dangers that lie in the shadows."
As the students scribbled down notes, Moody watched them all like a hawk. Slamming his fist down on the table, he barked, "Constant Vigilance! Keep your eyes looking about, it will save your lives!"
Harry exchanged looks with everyone else in the classroom, but they all knew that Moody as a professor was going to be unlike anything they ever expected.
After exiting the classroom last, giving an appreciative nod toward Professor Moody, Harry started to head down the hall when he was faced with, Draco Malfoy, flanked by his two loyal cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy wore a sneer on his face, his tone dripping with contempt, "Well, well, well, if it isn't Potty," Malfoy spat, his gray eyes narrowed. "You should stay away from Greengrass. Even Snape doesn't like what he sees going on."
Harry's gaze hardened as he stared back at Malfoy, his jaw set with determination. "What's it to you, Malfoy? Or him? We're working on a project together as friends. You wouldn't understand the concept."
Malfoy's lip curled into a mocking smile. "Friends? Please, Potter. We both know you're just trying to drag her down with your idiotic Muggle beliefs. You think you can corrupt anyone, don't you?"
Harry flushed at that, feeling the anger at how people looked down on what Remus Lupin did all over again. "Don't mistake our helping each other, Malfoy. We won't let your narrow-mindedness dictate our choices. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do."
Before Malfoy could respond, Ron and Hermione came around the corner, and Ron asked, "What's all this, then? Alright, Harry?"
With that, Harry smirked at Malfoy before walking away, leaving him fuming and glaring impotently. Harry knew that being so close to Moody's classroom, the other boy would have been too afraid to actually do anything.
As the group continued their research and discussions about the werewolf rights and Lupin's sacrifice, Harry's distraction began to mount as he considered the complex history of his father and the Marauders.
Ultimately his distraction came to a head when Daphne pulled him aside, finding a moment of privacy in the secluded corner of their secret classroom, and confronted him. "Why are you so distracted? You're barely focused on what we're doing."
Harry took a deep breath, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I found a bunch more photos like the other one, where they are all together and so .. lively. Well, I asked Professor McGonagall about Sirius and my dad, how close they were. She told me a story about how they were like brothers, always looking out for each other. They even tried to support Remus during his transformations at school, though she didn't know what exactly they were doing – she kept giving them detention for sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library, and that was the excuse they always gave her, that they wanted to help Remus."
Daphne listened attentively, only nodding along as he spoke. "That sounds like a strong bond, Harry. But we already know this is a tragic story. So, what specifically is troubling you?"
Harry nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and frustration. "I can't ignore the possibility that Sirius might be innocent. But I don't know how to prove it, Daphne. The evidence against him seems overwhelming when you ignore the propaganda, and I feel compelled to find out what really happened."
Daphne reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, I understand. It's important to uncover what really happened, for your peace of mind. We can't let assumptions and rumors dictate our judgment."
Harry's gaze met Daphne's, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, Daphne. That means a lot to me. I just don't know where to begin. Whether Sirius is or isn't guilty, what happened with Peter Pettigrew? Where was the rest of his body? I feel like there's a missing piece to this puzzle, and I need to find it."
Daphne squeezed his arm gently, then let go. "We'll find a way, Harry. One thing at a time, right?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Thanks for listening."
"It's what friends are for, Harry," she said simply before turning back to the larger task of addressing the real story of what Remus Lupin did.
Meanwhile, the Daily Prophet continued to publish articles about Sirius Black, saturating the wizarding world with sensationalized stories meant to keep attention where they wanted it. But Harry and his friends remained resolute in their pursuit of justice for Lupin.
The drama of the Care of Magical Creatures class had Draco Malfoy feigning a near-mortal wound for what everyone knew to be easily healed scratches, nothing more. But that was simply par for the course, and Malfoy – with Snape's clear backing – continued to sow discord with his rants against werewolves and half-breeds.
Finally, the day arrived when their report was complete. The comprehensive document detailed the events of the Dementor attack, Remus Lupin's heroism, and the Ministry's attempt to cover up the truth. Witness statements were carefully organized, providing a vivid and irrefutable account of what transpired on the Hogwarts Express.
With their hearts pounding and hope fueling their determination, Harry and his friends prepared to unveil the truth to the wizarding world. They planned to send copies of the report to influential figures within the Ministry, members of the Wizengamot, and reputable journalists who had not succumbed to Ministry propaganda. They had names at all of the English publications across England that would receive copies overnight.
They knew that their actions could have far-reaching consequences, but they were ready to face whatever came their way. Hermione took a deep breath and spoke with unwavering conviction, "We have the truth on our side. Let's make sure it can't be ignored."
Chapter 8: Quidditch Darkness
Draco Malfoy's deceit had cast a shadow of manipulation over Hogwarts, since Snape backed his every play between the faked injury magnitude and the attacks on people who wanted to praise Remus Lupin's actions. As the morning sun rose over the castle for the first Quidditch match of the year, whispers of anticipation combined with a sense of unease to make students scurry about rather than gather in the open. The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was meant to be a moment of exhilaration and unity, but the undercurrent of fear and bigotry tainted the atmosphere.
In the Great Hall, students gathered for breakfast, their eyes flickering between the staff table and the looming Quidditch pitch outside. As Malfoy made an exaggerated tale of his near-death experience, and how all beasts should be put down, the inevitable explosion came from an unexpected direction. It was Professor Flitwick, usually known for his gentle demeanor, that rose from his seat and faced Professor Snape with an unwavering gaze.
"Severus, I can no longer remain silent," Flitwick's voice rang out, cutting through the murmur of conversations. "Your behavior in our meeting yesterday, your condoning of Mr Malfoy's exaggeration of injury, your support of bigotry, and your downplaying of Remus Lupin's sacrifice... It is unacceptable!"
The room fell into an eerie silence as all eyes turned toward the confrontation unfolding before them. The air crackled with tension as Snape, his face contorted with a mix of anger and arrogance, rose to his feet.
"Watch your words, Flitwick," Snape spat, his voice laced with venom. "You know nothing of what you speak."
Dumbledore, ever playing the beacon of wisdom and authority, stood up calmly, his eyes scanning the room. "That is enough," he declared with a firm yet sorrowful tone. "Both of you, accompany me to my office. We shall discuss this matter and address the issue of proper behavior amongst my staff."
As Snape and Flitwick followed Dumbledore out of the Great Hall while glaring at each other, the students remained in stunned silence. The clash of ideologies and the magnitude of the accusations hung heavily in the air, casting a pall over the impending Quidditch match. Even the remaining Staff seemed to be shocked at what just happened, and speculation ran rampant as to what might be the outcome.
Harry stared at his friends around the Gryffindor table, but no one said anything – everyone's eyes were wide. They slowly rose to their feet and began heading outside, the rest of the students and staff following them for the game. The tension amongst everyone even without the game starting was palpable, and it was clear from the expressions on faces that anger and resentment on both sides of the divide was running very high.
The sky was overcast with dark clouds looming overhead, casting a somber and foreboding atmosphere over the Quidditch pitch. A chilly breeze swept through the air, carrying a hint of dampness, perfectly reflecting the tension already present among the students and spectators.
The Quidditch pitch itself was a vast expanse of well-maintained emerald green grass, contrasting starkly against the darkened sky. The stands were filled with anxious faces, each house represented by their respective colors. Harry could see the Gryffindor supporters with their scarlet and gold, while Hufflepuff fans sported their vibrant yellow and black.
The scene was a mix of excitement and trepidation, with students whispering in hushed tones, their eyes fixed on the players preparing for the match. The banners of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff billowed in the freezing breeze, adding splashes of color to the otherwise dreary backdrop.
As the teams took their positions, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, but to Harry it was strongly tinged with a sense of unease. The recent events and underlying tension at Hogwarts as even the faculty demonstrated at breakfast strongly overshadowed the occasion. For Harry, the Quidditch match was meant to be a moment of unity and competition. He was hoping to find solace and distraction in the exhilarating sport, even if just for a little while.
Eventually the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams stood ready, their faces a mix of determination and concern. On the opposite side, the Hufflepuff team huddled together, their yellow and black robes forming a united front. Cedric Diggory, their Seeker, exchanged a brief nod with Harry, a silent acknowledgement of their rivalry and mutual respect.
Madam Hooch took the center of the field, rose into the air, and blew her whistle signaling the start of the match. The Quaffle was released into the air from the trunk holding it, and the Chasers from both teams soared into action. They darted and weaved through the sky, displaying remarkable agility and teamwork.
Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor's talented Beaters, sprang into action to be first to the bludgers. With precise and skillful strikes of their bats, they redirected the bludgers away from their teammates, momentarily causing chaos for the Hufflepuffs.
Gryffindor's Chasers, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, fought valiantly to gain control of the game. They flew in sync, strategizing their movements and launching daring attacks on Hufflepuff's goalposts. The crowd erupted with cheers and applause, enthralled by the fast-paced and skillful display of Quidditch.
Amidst the exhilarating Chaser battle, the Beaters also played a crucial role. Each team's beaters fiercely defended their teammates, expertly diverting the menacing bludgers away from vulnerable players. The bludgers, relentless and unyielding, threatened to disrupt the flow of the game. Each swing of the Beaters' bats was met with an equal force from the bludgers, resulting in an intense struggle for control. Spectators shouted warnings and exhortations as the bludgers zoomed dangerously close to the Chasers, testing their reflexes and bravery.
Meanwhile, Harry and Cedric watched the game unfold with hawk-like focus. Their eyes scanned the sky, searching for the elusive golden snitch. Suddenly, their gazes locked, and they both spotted a glimmer of gold in the distance. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry broke away from the chaos of the Chaser and Beater battle, Cedric matching him from the other side of the pitch as their brooms cut through the wind as they set off in pursuit.
As Harry and Cedric streaked through the air, the crowd's cheers grew louder, acknowledging the pivotal moment in the match. While the snitch initially shot straight up, now it was shooting straight down. As they chased the snitch, the dark clouds overhead finally unleashed their fury. Rain poured down in torrents, but it wasn't the usual refreshing shower. The drops were half-frozen, hitting the players and spectators with stinging force. The sudden onslaught of icy rain intensified the already challenging conditions of the match.
The players gritted their teeth, their vision impaired by the torrential rain and their movements hindered by the icy droplets. Harry had not counted on battling the elements as well as the other team. Despite the freezing rain relentlessly soaking them to the bone, he was determined to catch that snitch that was now streaking just above the ground toward the Hufflepuff portion of the stands.
As he got closer, Harry realized he was feeling a dark cloud of despair which was entirely unnatural. Looking up, he saw a massive group of Dementors had materialized and the others were starting to realize it as well. Gasps of horror rippled through the crowd, and panic took hold – students starting rushing for the stairs to escape to the castle.
Chaos engulfed the Quidditch pitch as the Dementors unleashed their chilling presence. Fear swept through the spectators and players alike, their screams blending with the moaning of the Dementors. Harry could hear screams starting in his head, and thought that he and Daphne had only just recently been able to finally make very weak shields that lasted for a few seconds. There was no way they could protect themselves now, and he frantically looked for her and his friends in the crush of students trampling over each other to escape the stands.
Amidst the chaos, Professors Minerva McGonagall and Pomona Sprout, their faces etched with determination, sprang into action. They raised their wands high, their voices resonating with power as they cast the Patronus Charm. Brilliant silver figures burst forth from the tips of their wands, taking the form of majestic animals. McGonagall's Patronus, a steadfast lion, and Sprout's Patronus, a resolute badger, radiated strength and courage. Both were trying to drive the Dementors away, but there were simply too many for the two Patronus animals to be fully effective.
Students, their faces etched with terror, stumbled towards the castle, jostling and pushing past one another in their desperate bid for safety. As more students made it to the grounds and ran for the castle, McGonagall and Sprout moved swiftly to be among them, their Patronuses leading the way and guiding the frightened students forward. McGonagall and Sprout stepped forward, positioning themselves between the advancing Dementors and the vulnerable students, but there were still many students getting down from the stands.
Harry finally spotted Daphne, though not the others. Daphne was trailing behind the last of the students running from the stands, her face etched with frustration and determination. She was desperately trying to conjure a shield charm, but it kept collapsing under the overwhelming presence of the Dementors.
Harry's heart leaped with worry and relief as he shot next to her on his broom, attempting his own Patronus Charm which lasted only seconds before collapsing. "Daphne," he called, "we need to get out of here. Get on the broom with me!"
Daphne's eyes widened in recognition, and she awkwardly climbed on behind Harry. "Keep casting!" he half-shouted in panic, "if we alternate, maybe we it will be enough!" Without waiting for her response, he tried again, and got another flickering shield that collapsed seconds later – but it was enough that the nearest Dementors could not get too close to them.
As Harry guided the broom to trail the last students running for castle, they traded off efforts at the charm and shields. Neither lasted long, and Harry increasingly felt beyond exhausted as the charm took more and more from him. He could feel Daphne slumping against his back, but she also continued to cast the charm with him.
Finally, they reached where McGonagall and Sprout were, and the the safety of their fully formed Patronus charms gave them a moment. "Get back to the castle, Harry!" McGonagall shouted at him, "we're the last ones here!"
It was clear the two professors had their full concentration on the battle against the Dementors, so Harry kept guiding the broom back to the doors behind the students. He was unsure he would be able to walk if he dismounted, so he kept one hand on Daphne's arm and one hand on the broom – it would be a terrible time to fall. When they finally reached the castle's entrance, Hagrid was there pushing students inside and preparing to bar the great doors of the entrance hall. Harry and Daphne descended just inside the doors, and Harry landed with a sense of relief and extreme exhaustion. Harry and Daphne glanced at each other, sharing a moment of silent understanding, grateful for their survival and the chance to protect others – even through the sheer terror of the moment.
As McGonagall and Sprout backed up the steps, their Patronus animals now weak and flickering, Harry's relief was short-lived as his gaze turned back to the field. Hovering above the still forms of many students were the Dementors, their skeletal figures casting a menacing shadow over the ground. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in horror. Daphne gripped Harry's arm in a painfully harsh squeeze as she cried out, "No!"
McGonagall and Sprout, having repelled the Dementors momentarily, stood next to them as Hagrid slammed and barred the doors. All three of the faculty met Harry and Daphne's gaze, the weight of the situation evident in their eyes.
Tears welled up in Harry as he reflected on the momentary scene before the doors closed. The lifeless bodies of his fellow students lay strewn across the field, their souls stolen by the Dementors' cold embrace. It was a devastating sight, one that would forever haunt him.
"Don't speak of this yet, Harry, Daphne," McGonagall said as tears fell from her eyes. "Just stay here and rest a moment, we have to start counting the students. Hagrid, get the other Staff together and tell them to gather all the students in the Great Hall. Pomona, get the house elves to distribute hot chocolate and the like as quickly as they can. I am going to go find Albus, and give that man a piece of my mind."
As Harry and Daphne looked at each other, the screams and yelling and confusion echoed in the entryway. All Harry could feel was numb, since he had seen a head of bushy hair that was so very familiar on the grounds outside. He was barely aware of it when Daphne pulled him into a hug, nor why his face felt so very wet.
Chapter 9: Changes
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Hogwarts grounds, a heavy atmosphere settled within the castle walls. The Great Hall, usually a place of lively chatter and laughter, now stood silent, its usually vibrant colors muted in the dim light. Everyone had been gathered in there ever since the disaster of the Dementor attack, and only occasional sniffles and quiet cries could be heard at this point.
Dumbledore, accompanied by the remaining staff, walked to the front of the hall, their footsteps echoing through the solemn space. He surveyed the sea of faces before him, eyes clearly scanning the room, a pained expression etched upon his wise features. A shiver ran down his spine as the empty seats were apparent around the table. The gravity of the situation was fully unfolded before all of them.
Dumbledore's voice, usually commanding and warm, now carried a heavy weight as he addressed the gathered students. "Dear students, we gather here in the wake of a tragic event that has befallen our beloved Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, his voice a somber melody that resonated throughout the hall. "Thirteen members of our community have been taken from us by the relentless darkness of Dementors. Eloise Midgen, Marcus Belby, Terry Boot, Millicent Bulstrode, Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Percy Weasley, Roger Davies, Marcus Flint, Cormac McLaggen, Adrian Pucey, Hermione Granger, and Professor Sybill Trelawney. I must also admit that Fang, Hagrid's faithful companion, did not survive."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall as the realization of the loss spread among the students. While people had suspicions about other tables, now it was confirmed the full extent of the loss. Fresh tears welled in many eyes, and the collective grief seemed to double instantly.
Dumbledore spoke again, his voice softer than Harry could recall ever hearing it in the Great Hall. "Their absence weighs heavily upon us all. I would ask you to please join me in a minute of silence, whereupon we reflect on these lives taken from us far too early in their adventures."
Aside from sniffles and soft cries, no one said anything, and all heads remained bowed. Harry could hear Hagrid bawling into a tablecloth, trying to mute his wails.
"In light of this tragedy," Dumbledore continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "it is imperative that we take immediate action. We are already notifying the parents of the missing students, delivering the tragic news and offering our deepest condolences. They must seek explanations from the Minister for this tragedy."
He paused, his eyes flickering to the ceiling and the waning light of the day. At that moment, as if by some cruel irony, a flurry of owls carrying a special edition of the Quibbler and Witch Weekly descended upon the students. The timing could not have been more poignant.
Dumbledore's eyes widened, his heart aching as he realized the contents of those publications. He motioned for the owls to land, their wings beating against the heavy silence. The papers were distributed among the staff, their expressions shifting from grief to astonishment as they read the headlines. Harry saw his own copy unfurled, loudly proclaiming the truth about Remus Lupin's sacrifice and the Ministry's attempts to conceal it.
Amidst the whispers and gasps that erupted within the hall, Dumbledore raised his hands, a gesture to restore order and attention. The room fell silent once again, all eyes fixed upon the Headmaster.
"The truth has been revealed," Dumbledore spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of sadness and determination. "Remus Lupin, a valiant and selfless soul, sacrificed himself for the safety of our students. Despite how he has been treated his whole life, he agreed to journey here to help teach others, and gave his life to save students on the train from the Dementors. Many of you have heard rumors about this, and I can now confirm that it is true. His bravery shall not be forgotten."
He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room, observing the mix of emotions that flickered across the faces before him.
"In the face of such darkness, we must hold steadfast to unity and resilience," Dumbledore proclaimed, drawing upon the words of Winston Churchill. "It is in times like these that patience becomes our greatest virtue. We shall endure, and we shall overcome."
As his words echoed through the hall, Dumbledore's gaze shifted to the enchanted ceiling, a symbol of hope even in the darkest times. The candles came alight as the darkness increased, casting dancing shadows on the faces below.
"However," Dumbledore continued, his voice filled with a sense of urgency, "we must also take precautions to ensure the safety of our students. Until further notice, all Quidditch games at Hogwarts are canceled, and all visits to Hogsmeade are suspended. These measures are necessary in these uncertain times."
He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. The gravity of the situation enveloped the room, and the students exchanged worried glances.
"For the next week, all classes are canceled. We have multiple Healers coming to help each of you deal with what you have experienced, and of course the staff here is available to you at any time, day or night, to lend an ear or advice on anything.
"Remember," Dumbledore's voice softened, conveying both empathy and strength, "we are resilient. We shall persevere and emerge stronger from these shadows. Together, we shall face the challenges ahead and seek justice for those who have been lost."
Taking a deep breath, the Headmaster gestured to the fireplaces in the Great Hall. "Many of your parents are likely going to want to come here to reassure themselves of your safety in the coming hours and days. Each House has a fireplace here. We are opening these fireplaces only for adults to enter the castle. A member of the staff will be present at all times in this room. Please do write to your parents, and share your news of this day in your own words, and that they may reach the castle by floo for the next week by asking for 'Hogwarts Great Hall' and your house."
With those final words, Dumbledore stepped away from the podium, before he strode out into the rest of the castle, his presence still lingering in the air. The Great Hall remained hushed, the weight of grief and determination heavy upon the hearts of all who were present. It was a defining moment, a turning point in their collective journey, as the Hogwarts community prepared to confront the shadows that threatened their world.
Harry sat with the Weasleys, offering a silent bit of support to their grief. While he could see Ron cycling between tears and anger, the others mostly appeared to be stunned and lost. Harry felt gratitude to Percy for his actions on the train, and didn't care that others saw him as too stuffy or rule-abiding. Harry's tears for the loss of Hermione mingled freely with his sympathy for the Weasleys. It was ironic that the tables were covered in comfort food, and the on family that could eat like no other had zero interest in eating at all.
When Daphne and Tracy moved over to join them, the tears started again. Soft hugs and gentle words were circulated, but the group remained an island in a sea of murmurs and sounds that washed over therm.
It was no surprise that the first family to emerge from a fireplace that night was the Weasley family, with Arthur and Molly stepping out one by one, their faces etched with concern and determination. Molly Weasley, her eyes red and swollen from crying, tightly held onto Arthur's arm. The couple looked around, their gaze sweeping over the distraught students and staff in the Great Hall.
"We can't risk their safety any longer," Molly said quietly, her voice trembling with emotion. "We must bring them home, Arthur."
Arthur, his expression a mix of sadness and resignation, nodded in agreement. In a clear voice, he looked at his children and said, "I fear we need you to come home with us for now. Please gather your things and come straight back here. Do not delay."
One by one, the Weasley children returned from gathering their things, their faces mirroring the anxiety and fear that gripped their parents. Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George, gave Harry a brief hug, nodded to the others, then left through the fireplace with their parents firmly holding their hands under the watchful eyes of McGonagall.
As the Weasleys were leaving, other parents began arriving, their voices filled with urgency and worry. The Patil twins, Padma and Parvati, were greeting almost violently by their parents who were visibly distraught.
Tracy Davis stood nearby, her parents embracing her tightly, their eyes filled with unspoken concern. As Tracy left with her parents, Astoria came over and sat with Daphne, leaning against her and offering silent support at her friend's departure.
Cedric Diggory's parents arrived soon after, their faces pale and drawn. Amos Diggory wrapped his arms protectively around his son, their bond unbreakable in the face of adversity. The Creevy brothers, Colin and Dennis, were met by their worried parents, who held them close, unwilling to let go, even as they looked about the Great Hall in wonder.
Those families and children soon left the castle as well.
As more parents arrived, more students left, until it was a significantly reduced population in the castle. Harry knew that the Dursley's would not be coming, they would only be sad he had survived another near-death experience.
In the midst of this emotional chaos, Harry watched Daphne Greengrass caught between the desperation of her father and her own determination to remain at Hogwarts. Her father and her sister, their faces etched with fear, demanded that she leave immediately.
"But Father," Daphne pleaded, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and conviction. "Professor Flitwick has assured us of our safety and is helping us with honoring the sacrifice that Remus made to save our lives. I cannot abandon that, when I can just stay in the castle."
Her father looked torn between his desire to protect his children and his trust in Flitwick's words. After a moment of silent contemplation, Daphne's father spoke, his voice laced with reluctant acceptance.
"Very well, Daphne," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "You may stay, but your sister Astoria will have to leave. I cannot have both of you in danger. And you will not step one foot outside of this castle. If things become worse, I will return and you will leave with me, no arguments."
Daphne's nodded her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I will. And I can't leave Harry alone. Everyone else around him is gone," she said softly – and Harry suspected he was not meant to overhear that. Daphne hugged Astoria tightly, their embrace clearly filled with care for each other.
"Stay safe, Daphne," Astoria said, her voice choked with emotion. "Take care of yourself."
As more parents departed with their children, Hogwarts became quieter, emptier. The castle walls, once filled with laughter and learning, now stood as silent witnesses to the impact of recent events. The weight of their absence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the sacrifices made and the uncertainties that lay ahead. Daphne sat next to Harry, their heads bowed in mutual silence and respect for what had transpired during such a horrible day.
The Daily Prophet, the nation's most widely read wizarding newspaper, was full of harsh messages and articles, stories of the lost lives and their families filling every edition that followed. The recent events at Hogwarts had sparked outrage and demands for accountability, and the Prophet had pivoted from Ministry mouthpiece to become the voice of the people.
Rita Skeeter, renowned for her sensationalist reporting, apparently reveled in the opportunity to expose the truth and feed the public's insatiable hunger for scandalous revelations. Her quill carved out headlines calculated to shake the foundation of the wizarding world. The stories of angry parents and concerned citizens reverberated throughout the paper. Mothers and fathers demanded justice for their lost children, their voices raw with anguish and betrayal.
Typical refrains that occurred everywhere included "The Ministry lied to us! They hid the truth!" and "How can we trust them to protect our children?"
Grieving parents shared stories of their beloved sons and daughters, now gone, lost to the darkness that had engulfed Hogwarts. Their pain was palpable, their words charged with a burning desire for answers and accountability. "You see," one mother was quoted, "they wanted to keep it all quiet, sweep it under the rug. But we won't let them. They did this to our children."
As the outraged voices grew louder in the paper, their demands reverberating through the corridors of power. The truth of what had transpired on the train was now also being reported in the Prophet, not just the Quibbler and Witch Weekly. New articles came out that exposed the sacrifice of Remus Lupin and the presence of Dementors, painting a picture of tragedy and manipulation.
"The Ministry thought they could deceive us," one parent was quoted as saying. "But we will not stand for it! They must answer for their lies and their failures!"
Amidst the chaos, Amelia Bones, a respected member of the Wizengamot, emerged as a prominent figure, her voice cutting through the tumult. She called for a change in leadership, for a reckoning that would restore faith in the Ministry. Her words struck a chord with the disillusioned citizens, offering a glimmer of hope in a time of darkness.
In an emergency session of the Wizengamot that Monday, she called for a vote of no-confidence in Minister Fudge, and was unanimously supported in becoming the interim Minister of Magic as quickly as Fudge was manacled – literally, as the pictures in the Prophet demonstrated his rumpled form behind bars in a Ministry cell.
The Daily Prophet headline of Tuesday proclaimed the outcome, and had a full article announcing the changes and Madam Bones' position.
BONES TAKES OVER, PROMISES THE TRUTH
by Rita Skeeter
My dear readers, the grand chamber at the Ministry of Magic buzzed with anticipation last night. Journalists from various wizarding publications crowded the room, their quills poised to capture every word that would soon spill from Amelia Bones's lips as our new interim Minister of Magic. As the appointed time approached, the air grew heavy with a mixture of curiosity and hope, for the people yearned for a leader who would restore order, justice, and trust in the Ministry.
Amelia Bones, now the Minister of Magic, stood tall behind a polished podium, her expression resolute and her voice filled with unwavering determination. The room fell silent as she cleared her throat and began her address, her words carrying a weight that demanded attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the wizarding world," Amelia began, her voice cutting through the stillness. "Today marks a turning point in the history of our Ministry. We stand at the precipice of change, determined to restore the order, justice, and trust that has been compromised."
Her words echoed in the chamber, resonating with a promise that reverberated in the hearts of those present. The journalists scribbled feverishly, their quills unable to keep pace with the gravity of her statement.
Amelia continued, her voice unwavering. "We will leave no stone unturned in our pursuit of the truth. The presence of Dementors at Hogwarts will be thoroughly investigated, and those responsible will be held fully accountable for their actions."
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. The people had longed for a leader who would bring light to the shadows and seek justice for the fallen. Amelia's resolve provided a glimmer of hope, a beacon in a world overshadowed by darkness.
Amelia's gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of journalists and citizens alike. "Under my leadership, the Ministry of Magic will be guided by transparency, integrity, and the pursuit of truth. We owe it to the victims, their families, and our entire wizarding community to ensure that justice is served."
She then shifted her attention to a controversial decision that had already caused whispers of dissent. "In the interest of the safety of our society, I have recalled Alastor Moody from his position at Hogwarts," Amelia announced, her voice steady despite the potential backlash her words might incite. "He will assume the crucial role of overseeing auror training, and will join field operations only in major cases as field overseer."
The room buzzed with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Alastor Moody, a renowned figure in the wizarding community, was known for his fierce dedication and unyielding loyalty. The decision to recall him from Hogwarts signaled the gravity of the situation and the Ministry's determination to rectify its past mistakes.
Her words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. The press statement had marked a new era—a pledge to rebuild what had been shattered, to restore faith in the Ministry and its ability to protect and serve. The room erupted with applause, a symphony of hope rising from the hearts of those who had gathered.
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