A/N:: Well, I can't believe I'm doing this, but here I am doing this. This makes the third time, since I've started publishing my works, that I've received a PM stating that I induced someone into causing a car accident. Furthermore, there was at least one person in the comment section who mention having to swerve to avoid one. Sooooo…. Pattern and all that. On that note, please do not read my works while operating potentially lethal mobile hunks of metal. Just, please don't. I have no idea of the veracity of these PMs, but a warning is, at this point, warranted. They weren't even the most disturbing PM I have ever received. That honor goes to, and I quote, "Thank's so much A****** you made me laugh so hard I killed my cat." To this day, even years later, I am unsure how to rate, let alone feel about that one. So, with three automobile accidents and one possibly dead cat on my record I can only warn you that my sense of humor has a tendency to blindside some individuals.
Okay, with that out of the way, on with the story:::
The poet Frost would have approved of this forest. - not that the words of a muggle should mean anything. This would be perfect for a new base of power. The unwary could be lured in, so far from civilization, left to the mercy of the un . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Curse that! Curse whatever that is! It's more unbearable than the constant agony beyond the beginning of memory. It's a pest that pounces when it pleases. There was never a time to lower his guard. Every time when everything seems safe . . . There it goes again! Once I get a new body, I'll pinpoint where . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
This is Dumbledore's fault. No, the man is too soft. He is too soft. There could not have been a better ally hidden among those fools that opposed him. Both his inactions and actions went a long way toward aiding the power base being . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Which way is north? Is that moss on the tree? Is the Village to the north? I need some body, any body, any anchor, some way to d . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
The forest is getting dangerous, dark, and deep. No one can see me; I blend in. Why does it matter? Think! I need to think. Must think! Strategize! That's it! I need to . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Was that a snake? I can command it! It has to bring me a minion. I just need to concentrate and . . . No! It's gone! Calm down. Concentrate; the link should still be there. To me, my minions! Your master compels you! Wait. I can't sense anyone. One of those lazy good-for-nothings has to get over here and stop the . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Why am I in a forest? There has to be better places to be. This is Dumbledore's fault. It has to be. Curse the old fool! How is he doing this? Has the link been hijacked? This whatever . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Oooo . . . pretty flower. Was that a snake? I can possess it. I can possess a human; any human will do. Or even a puppy. Maybe a cat? No. They are even purer evil. I need an anchor. I need time to think of . . .
"Arrrgggh!"
Oooo . . . pretty flower.
There were unshed tears in Andi's eyes as she went about her daily task, a task she wasn't even sure was accomplishing anything. Still, she faithfully followed the routine. Besides, it did not take much time to use a pitcher filled from the tap to make sure the contraption that hung above the voodoo doll always had the reserves to continue dripping.
She had mixed feelings about the thing. There was no way to gauge if it was actually doing anything to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. For all Andi knew, it could be focusing solely on his followers. It would be just like the madman to pass his punishment onto whomever he could. She felt that she should be content if that were the case. If nothing else, it was shattering the lunatic's power base. If only her beloved sister had not been a part of that base. That was what broke her heart. Through Andi's own actions, she had only one sister where there once had been two. Bella had not survived biting off her own tongue.
The funeral, if it could be called that, had been a bleak affair. No one had wanted to mourn the crazy woman who had murdered helpless innocents on the commands of a deranged maniac. In truth, Andi hadn't mourned that woman, either. She reserved her grief for the young woman who had years ago been forced from the body that was soon to be returned to the earth. The young woman she had laughed with - the young woman she had cried with - the young woman she still very much loved - the young woman was gone long before her body was being laid to rest; never to return.
She had been gone for a very long time.
Only Ted and Gloria had remained with Andi while she stood staring at the fresh grave. They were alone until the unexpected visitors had arrived.
"I mean you no disrespect, but we needed to see for ourselves," said Augusta Longbottom as she stood there with a hand on her grandson's shoulder. No further words were shared.
The ambush was sprung as soon as the group crossed the threshold. "Potter! A word."
Though there were more than one flinch, not a single member of the group was surprised by the greeting.
"Professor McGonagall," Harry said as his entourage followed him to the alcove that held the older woman, "is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong?" A frown met this question. "My first official day as headmistress and I am sending children home in body bags. Does that not strike you as something wrong?"
"Unforgivables were cast," Dora said before Harry could answer. "Therefore, lethal force in defense is acceptable, Headmistress."
The headmistress' eyes darted to the pink-haired woman standing behind her target. "I was addressing Mr. Potter," she said tersely. "I would hear what he has to say on the matter."
"He has nothing to say," Dora replied.
"This is a very serious matter, Miss Tonks," Headmistress McGonagall said. "Children are dead."
"I am aware," Dora said. "I am also aware that the aurors would have been on scene, and they would have scanned the wands of those involved. Since Hestia and Flora are standing here, not in a cell; they are not accountable for the deaths that have you so flustered."
"I wish to speak to Mr. Potter alone on the subject." Headmistress McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "If you wouldn't mind."
"Then why accost him in the entranceway?" Dora asked.
Sighing, Headmistress McGonagall produced and swished her wand to lay privacy charms. "I stand remiss," she admitted. "Now, if you wouldn't mind." she tilted her head in dismissal.
"I do mind," Dora said. "For something this serious, his head of house should be present to represent his best interests. Since you may not serve as both advocate and inquisitor, I shall provide that representation."
"You presume too much, Miss Tonks."
"You do not understand. 'Tonks' is now a nickname. I am now Mrs. Black. As Mr. Potter-Black's wife and magical guardian, it is my right and my duty."
"You are his wife?" Headmistress McGonagall's eyebrows shot towards her hairline.
"How did you not know that?" Dora demanded. "Letters were sent to update you on our status."
Headmistress McGonagall sighed. "This summer has been ridiculously hectic. I have wrongly assumed that those letters were to ensure Mr. Potter's electives had been altered. With other more pressing concerns, I'm afraid that is one of the details that I haven't had the time to address. I was aware that Mr. Potter had a new magical guardian; your mother did mention that at the board meeting, but beyond that, I have not had the opportunity to make inquires."
"You missed that detail?" Dora asked as Harry and the other girls watched the back and forth like cats watching a tennis match.
"Albus's tenure was terminated. Professors needed to be found and hired." Headmistress McGonagall sighed. "The expected new student totals rose considerably. A deputy headmaster candidate needed to be interviewed. And that is just the beginning of the list of tasks I have only partially completed."
"So, I can assume the apartments for my husband's wives, mistresses, and concubines haven't been arranged?"
"Wiv . . . For heaven's sake, Potter. You put in the effort to gather a full coven?" Headmistress McGonagall counted the girls surrounding Harry Potter.
"Effort?" Harry asked.
"Seven is a magical number," Luna said. "Then again, so is thirteen."
"Don't make me put both you and Hermione on a muzzle and leash," Dora growled.
"How'd I get pulled into that?" Hermione complained.
"I have too many girls to handle as it is," Harry said. "Let's just get that out in the open."
"You're already at ten," Lavender said. "What's three more?"
"He's not at ten," Hermione noted.
"Yet," said Luna. "Pesky parchmentwork."
"I was going to say, 'Where could he possibly find three more willing girls?'." Parvati shrugged. "Then I realized just how stupid it sounded."
"I'm going to go crawl in a hole," Harry said. "Come get me after I'm done with my nervous breakdown."
"I see your summer was as tumultuous as my own," Headmistress McGonagall said with some pity.
"He's suffering from acute estrogen poisoning," Hermione said. "Give him some time, and he'll develop a tolerance."
"No more girls. Period," Dora growled before turning back to the headmistress. "So, why did you think it was appropriate to accost my husband as soon as he entered the doors?"
"Dead children." Headmistress McGonagall reminded her. "After I heard that Mr. Potter owned the girls involved, I couldn't not talk to him."
"So, you were going to carry on the tradition of punishing the victim?" Dora demanded.
"I was doing no such thing," Headmistress McGonagall protested.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Dora demanded.
"The man made mistakes, but . . ."
"You immediately sought out Harry to confront him."
"There are dead children," Headmistress McGonagall protested.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Dora demanded.
"I fail to see how that is pertinent."
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior-altering magics?" Dora demanded.
Headmistress McGonagall gasped. "I resent the implications."
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Dora demanded.
"There isn't anything to say on the subject." Headmistress McGonagall growled, "You are trying to deflect my attention away from . . ."
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior altering magics?" Dora demanded.
"I told you that isn't necessary," Headmistress McGonagall protested.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Dora demanded.
"Don't be so obtuse." Headmistress McGonagall frowned.
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior altering magics?" Dora demanded.
"Why am I entertaining your stupidity?" Headmistress McGonagall placed a hand on her head.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Dora demanded.
"Enough!" Headmistress McGonagall commanded, wobbling slightly on her feet.
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior altering magics?" Dora demanded.
"No more inane babbling!" Headmistress McGonagall commanded.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Hermione demanded.
"You need to pick your role models more carefully, Miss Granger," Headmistress McGonagall scolded the girl.
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior altering magics?" Luna asked lightly.
"I don't have time for this nonsense," Headmistress McGonagall stated.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Harry demanded.
"Why are you bringing the headmaster into this?"
"When was the last time you were checked for behavior altering magics?" Hestia demanded.
"Stop! Stop!" Headmistress McGonagall fell to one knee.
"Tell me something bad about Dumbledore," Flora demanded.
"I . . . I . . . He . . . He . . ." Headmistress McGonagall managed to gasp before passing out and collapsing.
The group stared at the prone woman before Harry said, "We haven't made it to the feast yet and we've already managed to knock out our headmistress."
"Says the boy who flew a car into the Whomping Willow at the beginning of last year," Lavender replied.
"That was Ron," Harry protested.
"We're just breaking all kinds of records," Hermione said sardonically. "And rules."
"Don't worry, I'll get her to the infirmary." Dora sighed. "I'll have them send over a healer from St. Mungo's; I have the feeling Madam Pomfrey is going to be my next victim. Come along, Hestia, you need treatment for the cruciatus."
"I can manage." Hestia said. "He never came close to the levels my mother subjected me to."
"You still deserve to be treated properly, and I want it documented," Dora said. "The rest of you, head to the Great Hall. I've got this. Auror training was worth something."
The tables were emptier than not when they found their seats. On one bench, Lavender, Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Parvati sat in a row while a Carrow twin sat directly opposite them.
"Hey, Potter," one of the upper-year Gryffindors, who had beaten them to the table, called out, "What's with the Slytherin and Ravenclaw sitting at our table?"
"Covens may sit at the same table during feasts," Parvati returned.
"It's in the rules," Hermione added. "You should read 'Hogwarts: A History'."
The word 'coven' found its way into murmurs all throughout the chamber.
"First one to suggest that Flora sits with the Slytherins sleeps on the couch for a week," Hermione said, pointedly not looking at Harry.
"The entertainment might be worth the punishment," Parvati said, only to receive a dirty look from Hermione. "What? It might be."
"I've had enough death-defying spell practice for the night," Flora said. "Thank you very much."
"Don't you mean death-dealing?" Lavender asked.
"Tomato, tomato," Luna said.
"That's 'toe may toe, ta-mah-toe," Hermione corrected.
"But I say 'tomato'," Luna replied.
She got some looks from Harry and the other girls as more students filed into the Great Hall.
"There you are," Ron said, rushing up, followed closely by Dean and Seamus. "You aren't going to believe the rumor," he stated as he sat down next to Flora. "They're saying you stupefied Professor McGonagall."
"We only kind of forced her to face reality," Harry corrected. "That only kind of knocked her out."
Stopping half-seated next to Ron, Seamus said, "Coming from anyone else, I'd have to write that off as a joke."
"Couldn't you have waited until after the feast?" Dean asked.
"We figured we would get started early this year." Parvati shrugged.
"Why is there a snake at our table?" Ron asked, noticing his benchmate. "Shouldn't you be over there with the rest of your slimy friends?"
"Ronald has volunteered for couch duty," Luna noted.
"You want me to clean a couch?" Ronald blinked stupidly at Luna. "And what are you doing here? You're not a Gryffindor."
"She meant that you are sleeping on the couch tonight," Lavender said.
"But . . . I have a perfectly good bed." Ron still hadn't caught on. "I'm not sleeping on no couch."
"I've got a full body bind that says otherwise," Hermione said.
"You wouldn't dare," Ron said before looking at Harry. "She wouldn't dare?"
Harry sighed. "Hestia and Flora put some Slytherins in the hospital and a few in the morgue. It wouldn't be a good idea for them to sit at that table."
Ron turned to Flora. "You did?" Flora nodded. "Welcome to Gryffindor," Ron said cheerfully.
"Doesn't take much to make him happy," Dean scoffed.
"Only mischief, mayhem, and manslaughter," Parvati noted.
"Am I going to have to sleep on a couch if I ask why the little blonde is here?" Seamus asked to break that line of thought.
"I'm Harry's consort," Luna said.
"Okay," said Dean, turning to Harry. "Considering the way the girls are all crowding around you, I have to ask. Are you planning on leaving any birds for the rest of us blokes?"
"You're nice," Parvati commented. "Remind me to introduce you to my sister."
"Um . . . thanks?" Dean said.
"I take offense at being referred to as a bird." Hermione frowned at Dean.
"Let it slide." Lavender nudged Hermione. "It's only a matter of time before you begin arguing with Ron; don't start in on Dean."
"But," Hermione said. "You heard what he said."
"Harry is your man," Lavender said, "and until someone claims him, Ron is too, to some degree. Dean, however, is not."
"That's not how it works," Hermione said.
"No, Hermione," Lavender said. "That is exactly how it works."
"Until someone claims him?" Hermione gestured at Ron.
"You're right." Lavender reconsidered. "If."
"He needs to grow up some first," Parvati added.
Ron turned to Seamus. "Girls are scary," he stated as Seamus nodded his head in agreement.
"You do realize you are sitting next to one with a lethal temper?" Dean asked.
Flora smiled sweetly, putting her canines on full display.
Ron began to sweat as the Great Hall steadily filled with students.
"Don't worry," the healer standing next to Dora said as they looked at the dimming flames in the floo. "They should be fine and ready for duty in the morning. They just have a date with a pair of purging potions."
"We should have seen this coming." Dora sighed.
"No one could have seen this coming," the healer objected before continuing. "I should also tell you that one of the individuals involved in that incident from earlier should be along shortly. The team just has to finish switching his lips and his anus back to their proper positions."
"How that isn't considered a dark spell, I'll never know," Dora said.
"Especially since his mother apparently neglected to teach him to wipe properly." The healer nodded.
"I did not need that image in my mind." Dora winced.
"To be fair, it might have more to do with the adage of there never being a clean pair of underwear in the emergency room."
"You can stop now," Dora said.
The healer nodded again. "You're in charge, then?"
"There are plenty of senior staff left." Dora shook her head.
"Senior staff that we need to drag into our cleansing ward," the healer stated.
Dora shot the wizard a dirty look.
"If I have to fill in as the school nurse, I don't see why you can't fill in all of the other positions that need a good scrubbing."
"If you don't stop, I'm going to send you back to the hospital . . . as a patient," Dora warned.
There was a lull in the conversations among the students in the Great Hall when Dora marched up to the head table. There, she had a quick conversation with Professor Sprout before being directed toward Professor Flitwick. They were conversing in hushed whispers when the main doors boomed open and a pudgy man with a balding head ushered the newest students into the hall.
Seeing the procession, Professor Flitwick leapt from his seat and rushed up to the podium. He only stopped long enough to swish his wand, causing several empty platters to be employed as a makeshift set of stairs and platform. Climbing his construct, it wasn't long before he was in position.
"Students," he declared, garnering everyone's attention. "There has been a disruption to tonight's program." He paused for effect. "First of all, as many of you have already garnered, Mr. Dumbledore is no longer the headmaster of this school."
There was some murmuring over the half-goblin's lack of title.
Waiting for the chatter to die down, Professor Flitwick continued. "That honor and responsibility has been bestowed upon none other than our beloved Headmistress McGonagall." There was much clapping over this announcement, as the students looked around, waiting for the woman to enter and acknowledge the appointment.
"Secondly . . ." Flitwick charged on when no headmistress put in an appearance. ". . . due to an unforeseen medical emergency, our new headmistress will be taking up her duties on the morrow."
"Potter!" someone shouted. "You hospitalized our headmistress! How could you hospitalize the headmistress before her first opening feast?"
"None of that, now," Flitwick barked. "Mr. Potter merely brought a preexisting condition to light. His service is truly appreciated." Before the chatter could commence, he continued. "On that note, I direct your attention to our new deputy headmaster." He pointed at the balding man. "As I have declined the honor in light of the anticipated larger workload as the Charms Professor, Professor Edmund has stepped up to shoulder that responsibility."
The balding man raised a hand to wave as the students gave polite claps around the room.
"Now." Flitwick continued. "Normally, we'd wait until after the sorting and feast before we introduced your new professors, but tonight is a night of exceptions. Therefore, I would like to introduce Professor Bagshot. She is a special case. Since our steadfast Professor Binns has tenure and has done nothing to warrant him losing his standing, despite the growing opinion that he is past due for retirement, the board has implemented a program where students may decide for themselves whether to take classes with him or to sit in on Professor Bagshot's lectures. Be warned, due to her frailty and age, anyone causing her problems will be relegated to the original study path, and they shall receive no leniency from myself nor the rest of the staff."
There was much clapping and oohing as the students returned the alternative history professor's arthritic wave.
"Next, we have our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and head of Gryffindor house, Professor Lupin." Again, the students' clapping was polite as no one expected the man to last more than a year. "Alongside him is our new potions mast . . ."
Before Professor Flitwick could finish his sentence, three of the four house tables erupted in exuberant applause.
"Our new potions . . ." Flitwick tried again.
Students jumped to their feet, pumping their fists up and down in celebration.
"Our new potions . . ." Flitwick tried again.
Someone conjured some bagpipes and their definition of music filled the air.
"Our new potions . . ." Flitwick tried again.
Many of the seventh-year girls removed their outer robes and were twirling them above their heads.
"Our new potions . . ." Flitwick tried again.
Some of those selfsame girls should have remembered that they were dressed wizarding style, which is to say anything under their robes was optional, not that anyone cared about the points they lost their houses.
"Our new potions . . ." Flitwick said weakly.
It was enough to make one wonder if Hagrid would be receiving as enthusiastic a welcome when he was declared the Care professor.
Anyways, you know what? They are going to need a moment. After all, they still need to figure out where the Weasley twins have been stowing those fireworks.
Amelia was once again staying late in an attempt to get, what could only politely be called, "the mess" under control. Her predecessor had apparently been of the opinion that the work involved with his position was beneath him. Either that, or she really needed to learn to delegate more. It was hard to tell, since the evidence pointed at him spending more time increasing his personal wealth as opposed to and at the expense of his job.
She was more than ready to take a break when her secretary stuck her head into the office, taking the opportunity to check on the condition of her boss instead of using the communication magics connecting their desks.
"Minister?" Betty prompted, causing Amelia to look at her secretary.
Amelia said. "I thought I sent you home for the day."
"You did," Betty replied. "But, if you are staying late, I am staying late."
"That can't be good for your social life." Amelia told the young woman.
"Pot. Kettle," Betty quipped. "Anyways, you have some visitors on urgent business who are two seconds away from climbing over me to get at you."
"Send them in," Amelia said as Betty stepped to the side, allowing a healer from St. Mungo's and Senior Auror Shacklebolt to enter.
"Boss," Shacklebolt said, respectfully followed by the healer's "Minister."
Looking at their serious faces, Amelia asked, "What's the catastrophe?"
The healer took the lead. "Both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey have been admitted," he said with a frown. "They have suffered an array of loyalty potions, mind altering spells, and obliviations."
Amelia's lips thinned. "Dumbledore?"
"That is who the loyalty potions were keyed to," Shacklebolt acknowledged.
"What of the other professors?" Amelia asked.
"They haven't been diagnosed yet," the healer said. "The reason McGonagall and Pomfrey were admitted is because of a young woman's decision to play mental ping pong with them."
"Young woman?" Amelia asked.
"Tonks," Shacklebolt supplied. "She used the classic approach; you know, 'Tell me something negative about the person I think is messing with your mind'. To tell you how bad it was, both of the witches were unconscious by the time they were sent to St. Mungo's."
"Those two aren't going to be the only ones afflicted," Amelia said. "Take a squad and let them play babysitter. We can't take the chance that Dumbledore hasn't left a trap in someone's subconscious. I want the remaining professors scanned and pronounced clean." She sighed. "For that matter, all of the students need to be checked as well. He would not charm them all; too much inevitability that at least one of them would eventually end up under a healer's care. However, I don't doubt he has backup contingencies planned."
"That may be a tad paranoid," the healer stated.
"Do you know who my mentor was?" Amelia asked.
"Can't say that I do," the healer admitted.
"Does the name Alastor Moody ring a bell?" Shacklebolt helped the man.
"Ah, then I should be thanking you for your restraint," the healer acknowledged.
"I have little left." Amelia sighed. "I've spent the afternoon trying to explain to several parents that it didn't matter what they thought of those 'beneath' them; they couldn't demand someone be arrested and sent through the veil when it was their own children who cast first while also employing the unforgivables."
"That bad?" Shacklebolt asked.
"I should be charging them with attempting to bribe the Minister of Magic." Amelia sighed again. "But some did just lose their children, and the others had their offspring sent to St. Mungo's." She gave a shrug of resignation.
"That didn't go over well, I take it?" the healer asked.
"It is going to go over even less well when one of the children has her wand snapped and core bound for chain casting killing curses in a train car full of innocent bystanders," Amelia said. "I was offered a hefty donation to sweep that one under the rug."
"Can't you charge the parents for teaching their children that spell?" the healer asked.
"Funnily enough, that isn't a crime," Shaklebolt said. "Besides, we have no way of proving who actually taught her."
"They should be thankful the phrase 'Azkaban for life' never entered the conversation," Amelia said. "Luckily, no one was hit, and the caster was underaged."
"I never thought I'd see the day when children would be casting all three of the unforgivables on the Hogwarts Express." The healer said.
"Thankfully, Professor Slughorn was nearby and managed to quell the situation before it got out of hand," Shacklebolt said. "It didn't even need the intervention of the other two professors on the train."
"You and I have a very different definition for 'getting out of hand'." The healer said, "I'd say the instant the cruciatus was cast was when things got out of hand."
"True," Shacklebolt acknowledged. "But things could have been a lot worse."
"As much as I'd love to spend the rest of the evening chatting . . ." Amelia broke in. ". . . I have work to do, as do you both."
"Yes ma'am," the two men chorused and began making for the door.
"Oh, and Shacklebolt?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"Are you still single?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"I thought so." Amelia was already reading the next parchment on her desk. "Then be a good lad and ask my secretary out on a date."
"Ma'am?!"
"Both of you devote too much time to your jobs and are in need of a swift kick to the arse," Amelia explained. "And I have no patience left for subtlety. So, get on with it."
The healer chuckled and left as Shacklebolt stood there with a shocked expression on his face.