In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 119: May Day
Harry's toes to the sand as he ran, the morning sun that heated his skin. The motion that felt good, the exercise he'd previously enjoyed.
"There you are," Ron said as Harry returned.
Gia and Hermione still on the sleeping pad on the sand, the sun to them. Ron's blue eyes to Harry, the hands to the hips.
"Felt like a run," Harry said.
"Practice and go wherever afterwards?" Ron asked.
"Restaurant, or…" Harry said.
"Need to follow up," Hermione said.
Harry pulled Hermione up, and Gia next. Ron's wand that flicked, the sleeping pad that vanished. Ron pulled out the Portkey, and activated it. Gia, Hermione, and Harry held it too, with the customary jerk behind the naval.
"Going with food first," Harry said.
"The healer is in," said Notley, nearby.
Harry went into the examination room, stood on the scale. Notley's pen to the folder against the leg.
"You certainly add variety to the maladies," Notley said.
"Sorry about that," Harry said.
"Don't apologize," Notley said, "Good to have some breadth to my experience."
Harry sighed.
"Good idea on the breakfast," Notley said, "Clear for a couple of hours of practice after that."
Harry turned for the door, heard the wand, and spun. Harry snatched Notley's wand.
"Enhance the appetite?" Notley said, "Your reflexes are back."
Harry handed the wand to Ron, and went across the locker room. Along the corridor, up the stairs.
"Mind?" Coach Meyers asked as Harry went through the club room.
Harry shrugged, the motion, and went into the cafeteria. Fried eggs, the bacon, the diced potatoes, the slices of cantaloupe, along with beans and buttered toast. Harry sat at the table. A thought, the cup of apple juice that flew over, and he set it down.
"You've made the paper quite a bit," said Coach Meyers.
Harry popped his pills, swallowed them, and chased with the juice.
"I'm trying not to," Harry said, "Haven't read it this morning, but I almost had the impostors—it would've solved a lot."
Harry worked at the cantaloupe, though he also focused on the coach's eyes.
"Trying your best?" the Coach asked.
"Yes," Harry stated.
Harry nibbled at the bacon.
"That's what I ask of you," Coach Meyers said, "No regrets so far—signing on?"
Harry's eyes to the coach's.
"No," Harry said, "Why?"
"Thought I'd ask," the Coach said, "You were showing up about daily—"
"Things got rough," Harry said, "Technically, I'm homeless, suspended from school, so been getting in an adventure or two."
"With some trouble along the way," Coach Meyers said.
Harry worked at the eggs.
"Doesn't matter whether it's wizarding or not," Harry said, "Always people trying to screw others over. One thought Gia's pussy should be his. Another group were willing to kill her for money. As her husband to be, my duty is to protect her best I can."
Harry's thoughts to Gia, still downstairs.
…
Ron leaned back against the wall as he opened the letter. In the background, Notley examined Gia while Hermione watched Ron. Ron held the parchment downward.
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Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger,
The Minister of Magic was not pleased about yesterday's incident. He has issued a two week suspension, which I will consider concurrent to the one I already issued. You may not return until Wednesday 14 May 1997.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Well?" Hermione asked.
"We astonished the minister and we're being let off," Ron said.
"Really?" Hermione asked.
"No," Ron said, "Dead auror—two weeks."
Hermione glared.
"Next," Notley said.
Ron's stomach that growled, the idea of breakfast good, however, he reached in and pulled out the newsprint.
"You're—" Gia started.
"Need to know what to expect," Ron said, "You know Harry."
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Hogwarts Corpse
Wednesday 30 April 1997
Potter Fools Nobody
by Seamus Finnigan
While attempting to have a peaceful picnic, Potter staged an interesting yet feeble attempt to fool us all about his outlandish claims. Using Dark Arts of the worst kind, they created doubles to carry out the dirty work, to try to appear to be coming to our rescue. Luckily they were stopped in their tracks by Aurors not fooled by this charade; unfortunately, Auror Archer did not survive the confrontation. All students of Hogwarts proudly salute Archer for his sacrifice in the line of duty.
"We…" Ron stopped, "Yellow, yellower than I could manage."
"Next," Notley said.
Ron handed The Daily Prophet to Hermione, and stepped up onto the scale. Hermione read out The Daily Prophet.
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Dangerous Pirate Potter
While displaying acceptable creativity, Dark Potter struck yet again at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, resorting to muggle inspired torture reminiscent of old seafaring ways. After creating doubles, Potter forced several students along a plank to face their eminent deaths. This madness came to an end when the Aurors, already stationed at the school, confronted Potter, an act that resulted in one Auror's brutal murder.
Ministry officials confirmed that Auror Archer died in the line of duty, and that Auror Gairloch was reprimanded by headmaster Albus Dumbledore for taking reasonable measures to stop Dark Potter's brutal rampage. Shielded by Dumbledore, Dark Potter incurred the only punishment that Minister Fallerschain could dole out—a two week suspension will surely comfort Archer's grieving family.
"Fails to mention it was Gairloch's killing curse," Ron said as Notley's wand moved.
"Auror died due to incompetence," Hermione said.
"Know what I think?" Ron aimed and peed at The Daily Prophet in her hands.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
Ron peed at the Hogwarts Corpse and soaked that.
"So I shouldn't ask for a sample?" Notley asked.
"Sorry," Ron said, "It's a bloody inquisition with pure madness all around it. Pisses me off."
"We saw," Gia said.
"I'm clear?" Ron asked Notley, the eyes on him.
"Yes," Notley said.
"Before Harry eats it all!" Ron said as he left the examination room.
Gia and Hermione followed Ron up the stairs, into the cafeteria as the coach stood up.
"Weasley," said Coach Meyers.
Hermione picked up a The Daily Prophet from another table, carried it over.
"Good morning," Ron replied to the coach.
Ron patted Harry on the back, went to the counter, and loaded some eggy bread onto his plate. Bacon, sausage, orange slices, and grabbed the orange juice. Ron sat next to Harry.
"Careful," Ron said, "She wants to relive yesterday."
Harry's left arm brushed against Ron's right, the turn of those eyes.
"Ron'd rather be an idiot," Hermione said, "Five in Laos and thirteen in Poland; we at least ought to be aware."
"Not before breakfast…or lunch…or dinner," Ron said.
Harry sighed, the green eyes that glanced at Gia sitting across from Ron.
"You had to kill his appetite," Ron said to Hermione.
"Can we…if I want arguing, I'd head into the Ministry," Harry said.
Harry stood, left the cafeteria. Ron glared at Hermione.
"Please," Gia said.
"Sorry," Hermione said.
"We'll go separate ways again after practice," Ron said.
Ron worked at his food, ignored the persistent glare, and ate.
…
Harry's toes that chilled in the breeze as he grabbed the Nimbus 1000, and he stepped out. Wind and rain blew away the warmth, felt his body magic push out the warming charm. Above, the two red haired twins that flew, the bludgers that responded.
"How much time are you're allowed?" Coach Kline asked, the shirt and shorts that billowed in the indoor weather.
"Couple of hours," Harry said, "Could push three, I suppose."
Leg over the broom, Harry pushed, and the broom that flew him upward. Coach Kline followed. A pass of the bludger, Harry's mind that emptied of other concerns, and he focused on not getting hit.
…
Gia watched as Ron stood, walk out of the cafeteria.
"You and me again," Hermione grumbled.
"What do we do?" Gia said as she turned left on the chair toward Hermione, "We go one way, they go another?"
Hermione's eyes stared at The Daily Prophet on the table.
"I'm a capable witch," Hermione said, "They leave me to guard you when they're off to play."
"You heard them," Gia said, "Almost…almost…though it's clear they tried. Think they'll get another chance?"
Hermione pointed at the three near the plank.
"They seem rather competent," Hermione said, "Didn't count on Harry as much as they should have, but I think they'll adapt—got two weeks to plan. Meanwhile, we're stuck…traveling."
"I'll go ask that Healer to give you an essay," Gia said.
"Seems pointless," Hermione said.
"Go flying?" Gia said, "Seemed to have given them the edge yesterday."
"It's like we're warehousing ourselves," Hermione said, "Out of sight, not doing anything."
"Break suspension and go to Hogwarts?" Gia asked.
Hermione's eyes that drifted downward.
"No," Hermione said.
Gia stood, went to the balcony, where the wind and rain hit her. Above, Harry flew with Kline, both being tossed around. Ron repeatedly missed the Quaffle as it flew sideways on him. Hermione stepped up next to Gia, and Gia turned.
"All I can do is give Harry my support," Gia said, "Because I'm not like you, I can't train up in magic. You can. Please do so, even if it's medicine from the Healer."
Hermione stayed facing the weather.
"It…" Hermione sighed.
"I know," Gia said, "My studies are gone too."
Hermione's eyes that twitched, watched.
"Could've skipped the shower," Hermione said.
"Is there a book they could get you?" Gia said, "Fred or George would be more than willing."
"Like I could carry the necessary parchment," Hermione said.
"Keep one essay, revise it until done," Gia said, "Post it to somebody?"
Hermione's eyes back to Gia.
"I'm asking you to do what you can," Gia said.
Hermione's brown eyes blinked.
"I ask the same of Harry," Gia said.
"He failed," Hermione said.
"He tried," Gia said, "He fought and he came out alive, able to do better next time."
Hermione turned toward the club, her back to the pitch.
"I'm asking you not to give up," Gia said.
"I'm not doing that," Hermione said.
"We each have our moments," Gia said.
Hermione took the steps to the sofa in the clubroom, laid along it on the cushions, face to the armrest. Gia sat near Hermione's legs, lifted her right foot, removed the shoe and massaged into the toes, the calluses that were on it.
"What are you up to?" Hermione asked.
"Well," Gia said, "Think that Healer has supplies for a pedicure?"
"What?" Hermione stammered.
"Slip out to the nearest salon and get one?" Gia asked, "Got an hour or two."
Hermione laid there, the head and eyes that turned to Gia.
"We'd get death threats," Hermione said, "Or worse."
"That was Harry's portkey," Gia said, "Got some states money, pop over, get them done in the states, come back—they wouldn't know a thing."
"I've never…" Hermione started.
"Well," Gia said, "So we wait and bring the boys along."
Hermione snorted, shook her head.
"Been a while on the nails too," Gia said, "Manicures."
"We're on the run," Hermione said.
"No reason to not stop and pamper ourselves a little bit," Gia said, "You know, compensation for all the stress they've put us under."
Hermione sighed, put her head down on the armrest.
"Alright, later on that," Gia said, "Any curse Harry could've done better? Maybe forced that…polyjuice, right? Force it to stop before it's done."
"Not that I know of," Hermione said.
"Are you sure?" Gia asked.
"It's magic, could be," Hermione said, "Nobody's found it."
"Get my point?" Gia asked, her fingers tickled Hermione's foot.
"You're…you're…" Hermione started.
"I think you need this," Gia said, "Call out for Harry and Ron, see if they agree."
Hermione sighed, relaxed into the sofa.
Thursday morning, and a thought, with the usual tightness, disapparation, apparation, Harry and Gia stood in the back room of the Grizzly Head, the one with a sofa, billiard table, a foosball table, and a couple of dining tables. A stuffed bear head loitered on the wall, characteristic to the theme of this small town of Tibby, Montana.
"I'll order," Gia said, "Big bear breakfast for you?"
"One and a half," Harry said.
Harry sat down at the table, took out The Daily Prophet. Harry tried to avoid it, the article that listed the three fatalities in Turkmenistan, and the eight in Myanmar, instead, landed his eyes on the one toward the bottom of the page.
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Thursday, 01 May 1997
Ebola Strikes Hogwarts
An epidemic of Ebola has struck Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ebola, a disease native to central Africa, is a relatively harmless virus when properly treated by a mediwizard (muggles are confounded by this). Both the Headmaster and the Ministry have assured the Daily Prophet that the school nurse Madam Poppy Pomfrey is handling the situation with due diligence. Speculation that Potter could be linked to this outbreak has been refuted by the Minister of Magic.
Harry sighed, unsure.
"At least the Minister refuted it."
A glance up, Dumbledore stood there leaning on his cane.
"How?" Harry muttered, though he did notice Gia loitering, leaning back against the billiard table.
"You may want to consider who placed that newspaper into your cauldron," Dumbledore said, "May I sit?"
Harry waved to the seat across from them, one that turned into a plush armchair and Dumbledore sat.
"Every time something is my fault…" Harry pushed the paper away. "They dismiss it, but when it isn't my fault, they hound like crazy! You'd think if they're out to get me, they'd hype the ebola up too—which was me! Not intentionally, of course."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Voldemort will stay guessing," Dumbledore said.
Harry sighed.
"Here they come," Gia said, as she moved over to the table.
"Funny finding you here," Lynn said as he entered the room, the tray, though the eyes focused on the old man, not Harry.
"Mr…." Dumbledore said, "Sorry, name eludes me."
"Better to not be acquainted," Harry said, "Some folks drop in."
"To others that shouldn't have been so susceptible to surprises," Dumbledore said.
"Don't be too rude," Gia said, "He might fix you breakfast."
"Already ate," Dumbledore said, "Still, a small kid sized appetizer might be suitable."
Harry pulled out a bottle of brown sauce from his hip pocket, used it on the steak. A curious glance from Lynn, though he left. Harry took his pills, and ate into the scrambled eggs.
"I do apologize for my harshness Tuesday," Dumbledore said, "I overexerted myself and was on the verge of collapse, so my anger was sharper than I'd have liked."
Harry paused his eating.
"I almost got them," Harry said, "I did—stunned them, however, too much given the ebola."
Harry's fork moved to the pancakes, ate, while Gia worked on her oatmeal.
"Words were exchanged," Dumbledore said, "With that alone, Ministry Aurors are expected to show restraint."
"They went beyond words," Harry said, "Killing curses—no concern about the others!"
"I did cancel the suspension I issued," Dumbledore said.
"Ta," Harry said.
Harry worked the rest of of the pancakes.
"Do reflect on it," Dumbledore said, "Your actions should never be motivated by anger or hatred, usually makes things worse."
Lynn returned with tea, small strips of steak, and along with strips of french toast.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said.
Lynn turned, left.
"Seem to be good people," Harry said, "Like to be left alone, like most do."
Dumbledore dipped a steak strip into the brown sauce, ate into it.
"Hmm…" Dumbledore said.
"I'd be able to learn more if I didn't have to stay on the move," Harry said, "Different bed every night, doesn't make it easy to learn anything, regardless of the instructor."
"True," Dumbledore said, "So, take it you spent a night here, where next?"
"Dunno," Harry said.
Harry spotted the disbelief in the eyes.
"Portkeys…sometimes I let it choose," Harry said, "So even I don't know where I'm headed."
"For a while," Dumbledore said, "Your safety lies in the fact they're unaware of your situation."
"I know," Harry said, "Still, it works for now."
"It's inevitable that'll change," Dumbledore said.
"Practice the usual things," Harry said, "But yeah, it's not always been easy either. Even without them, others still seek to take advantage of…they see us."
"Think you're easy prey," Dumbledore said.
Harry finished the rest of the plate, sipped the tea all the way down, studied the tea leaves at the bottom.
"Keeps me on my toes," Harry said.
"Any plans for the summer?" Dumbledore asked.
"Figure the usual," Harry said as he stood.
Harry went over to the foosball table.
"Death Eater's plan cracks in June, right?" Harry said, "Always does, and…after camp, dunno, hadn't considered it. Maybe another holiday."
"Been taking holidays," Dumbledore said.
"Hard to plan two weeks at a time," Harry said.
Harry turned around, the legs crossed, leaned back against the foosball table.
"Maybe go back to the Philippines," Harry said, "Diving was fun."
Dumbledore's hand trembled as he stood, shook on the cane. A baring of the wand, the stability that returned.
"My time is limited," Dumbledore said, "Not only today, but in life."
"Voldemort'll be gone," Harry said, unsure as he still had his November execution to contend with.
"Unlikely," Dumbledore said, "I've…heard that it won't end in June either."
"Has every year before," Harry said.
"The struggle will outlive me," Dumbledore said, "Somebody needs to carry on the torch, or darkness will prevail."
Harry thought on it.
"Until the term is over, my focus is at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "Even during the summer, I'd like you to consider staying and we can go over a few remaining things."
"I'll be suspended," Harry said.
"Underestimating my wit?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head. A tremble to the cane, went over to the billiard table, and grabbed the white cue ball. Dumbledore vanished.
"So, we—?" Gia started.
"Please pay the man," Harry said.
Gia stood, the buttocks that showed as she went out. Harry pulled out the stone coin from his holster.
"Ron, Ron!" Harry said as he turned away from the door.
A moment later Ron's green head showed.
"Doing anything interesting?" Harry asked.
"Paintings, I think," Ron stuttered.
"Don't really feel like studying," Harry said.
"Art," Ron said, "More than you can shake a camel at."
"Why'd I shake a camel?" Harry said, "Mind if we—come?"
"St. Petersburg—Russia type," Ron said.
Gia returned.
"Which museum?" Harry asked.
"Largest one…forgot the name," Ron said.
"One moment," Harry said.
Harry glanced at Gia, she shrugged. Harry held her, and disapparated.
Hermione studied the painting, the bearded man that sat on the stone by a tree the foot upon which a necklace hung. Beneath that man, other couples that frolicked on the grass, with small winged babies that held up drapes. She wondered if that was their future, when she heard the breathing behind her.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
A fast turn, the fist ready, when it was the bottle green eyes of Harry.
"You!" Hermione said.
"Hello?" Harry asked.
A glare at him.
"Bit interesting," Harry said, the eyes that twitched toward the picture.
"ATTENTION!" came the announcement, "THE MUSEUM IS NOW CLOSED, PLEASE MOVE TOWARD THE EXITS."
"Maybe we were going separate ways too much," Harry said, "Best to be flexible."
Hermione felt better though, her best friends in this group, and they left the museum; life seemed to be improving for them, next chance, they'll nab their doppelgangers, and things would go back to normal.
The Seeker adjusted the invisibility cloak, stayed up in the corner of the chamber of the Wizengamot, as the wizards in robes of red, and blue sat, assembled. Upon the podium in the sky blue robes, Minister Fallerschain stepped up.
"I apologize for the late hour," the Minister said, "However, this is a matter than cannot be delayed in helping to mitigate the threat posed by the upcoming Dark Lord Harry James Potter and his recruits."
Delores Umbridge, the smile, handed over a packet.
"Understandably," the Minister said, "Contents are considered state secrets to contain a dark wizard, and leaks have been known to occur on more than one occasion. In short, Potter will be stripped of all remaining alliances, assets, and advantages that may be bestowed upon him by these measures."
"When do these measures go into effect?" asked Delores Umbridge.
"In order to have maximum deterrence," the Minister said, "Measures require unanimous international support from every wizard governing body, no dissenters."
Murmurs.
"Question is," the Minister said, "Do we, the wizarding authority of the British Empire, adopt this legislation, being the first to express our displeasure at how the aspiring Dark Lord Harry Potter is conducting his affairs, meddling and terminating the lives of others?"
A rumbling roar, the applause.
"All in favor?" the Minister asked.
A loud clap of the hands, the hands that raised.
"Any opposed?" the Minister asked.
A couple of meek hands that moved, the brief screams, and the hands withdrawn.
"And so it passes," the Minister said, "A bold step, and I remind you that divulging this proceeding would constitute a violation of—."
A fast retreat, the Seeker left the chamber, to the atrium, where he disapparated, apparated. The Seeker approached Voldemort in the easy chair by the fireplace, and knelt; he kissed the hem of the robes.
"My lord," the Seeker said, "Wizengamot approved, first of many."
Voldemort let out a bellowed laugh, one the Seeker joined in.
Friday morning, Gia returned to the table in the cafe in St. Petersburg, sat across from Hermione engrossed in The Daily Prophet.
"They—" Hermione started.
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Friday 2 May 1997
Potter Crisis Update
Minister for Magic Victor Fallerschain has promised better international cooperation geared toward mitigating the current crisis of Harry Potter seeking to spread his dark campaign of terror across the world. Rumors are that Dark Lord Potter is traveling abroad to avoid the scrutiny of the British Isles, as evidenced by his attacks yesterday in Guinea–Bissau that killed four, and two more in the Marshall Islands.
"Agree with Ron," Gia said, "Burn the thing, not even fit as loo paper."
Gia knew the difference between the dark wizard Potter and the one she could see across the cafe with Ron.
Harry glanced over his shoulder late that afternoon, the man in the corner that seemed to eye them. He walked behind Hermione in Hermitage Museum, another painting. A glance to Ron.
"See him?" Harry inquired.
"Yep," Ron replied.
Harry's wand out for the moment he disillusioned himself and Gia. Ron disillusioned himself and Hermione. Harry glanced back at the man.
"Still following," Harry thought.
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"ATTENTION!" came the announcement, "MUSEUM IS CLOSING IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"
"We—" Hermione started.
"About time to head out," Harry whispered.
"Why are we—" Hermione started.
"Shh," Ron whispered.
Harry pulled Gia, the four of them went for the nearest exit. Broad water in the daylight, a left, and a right over the bridge.
"You're—" Hermione started.
"Vigilance," Harry said, "Anyways, think it's about time to head to the potluck."
"We need something," Hermione said.
"I agree," Harry replied.
Ron and Gia that followed, the glancing, until they reached a grocery store, and entered.
"Not sure what you want," Hermione said.
Harry went along, used a hand basket, checked out the bottles of vodka.
"Not too many," Gia said, "Got supplies for a salad."
"Sure," Harry said, "Um…prepare it there, or something, unless…"
"One there," Ron said, "But, no burritos."
Harry glanced outside the shop, unsure if the man was there.
"Let's pay and split," Harry said.
A motion, they went to the register, the clerk who rang them up.
"Meet up in the locker room," Harry said, "Hermione, take Gia there."
"You two?" Hermione asked.
Harry handed over the bank notes to the cashier, took the change.
"Me and Ron'll get the other things," Harry said.
Hermione's brown eyes to Harry.
"Please," Harry said, the glance out to the road, the man who seemed to be watching.
Hermione pulled out the pin, activated it, and Gia held on, both vanished with the shopping sacks.
"Gotta know," Harry thought to Ron.
Harry's left held Ron's hand, the casting of invisibility, and both went out into the road. A pop nearby, one that startled Harry, and the fast disapparation, apparation. A fast change from old imperial Russia architecture, to the hustle and bustle, the kanji strewn on the signs, and the lights of Osaka, Japan, lights that pushed away most of the darkness of the night sky above.
"Think we broke the tail," Ron said.
"Been a tad flamboyant," Harry said, "Likely got noticed."
"Know they wanted to have fun," Ron said.
"Fun's the wrong end of a wand," Harry said, "If we're not careful."
Harry spotted it, the home of twenty four hour sushi, and motioned to the man behind the counter. A nod, the three trays into a carrying case, along with a generous number of sauce packets. Harry dug out the five thousand yen bank note, handed it over. A wave, a smile, Harry carried them, wand out, the cooling charm.
"Doubt we'll get burritos around here," Ron said.
A short while later, they stood in the locker room of Puddlemere United.
"Take the scenic route?" Hermione asked, the flustered eyes.
"Foyer of Amos Diggory," Harry said, "You two can manage?"
Hermione's eyes wide.
"It's short distance," Harry said.
"I can," Ron said.
Gia held onto Harry.
"Wait about ten seconds," Harry said.
Harry thought for a moment, the disapparation, apparation. Gia with him, in this small room of blue, stairs ahead, and the portrait of Cedric Diggory to right side. Amos Diggory approached.
"Welcome," Amos Diggory said, "Welcome Harry."
Harry swallowed, the man, the father of the one who'd perished in the tournament.
"Hello," Harry said, "Dumbledore said—"
"Yes," Amos said, "This way."
Shoes to the carpet, and left through the wide opening with wallpaper of blue and white, insignia of Puddlemere United on it, along with a picture of a younger Cedric in flight on a broom. Though Arthur was already on a chair by the fireplace, back toward them.
"Sorry…" Harry stopped himself.
Above the mantle of the fireplace, more pictures of Cedric, various ages, like the walls. Ones of Cedric collecting the dragon egg, another one, in black and white, of Cedric entering the maze, and Harry understood, last time Amos Diggory had seen his son alive. Amos glanced at Harry, and Harry spotted the recognition of sadness, the move for black fabric.
"Don't," Harry said, "Leave them be."
"Take it those are for the potluck?" Amos asked.
Harry set the trays down on large table to the side, near the chicken.
"Shouldn't let you know the Minister's floated proposals to allow for longer suspensions," Amos Diggory said, "If it gains traction, I'll let it pass."
Harry glanced at him.
"I know it's unfair to you—being robbed of an education," Amos Diggory said, "However, your attackers aren't terrorizing the students when you're suspended."
Harry knew that to be true.
"Ronald!" Arthur snapped, "You can at least say hi to your Dad!"
Harry snickered, as Ron was partially in disillusionment, halfway past the chair.
"Or not," Ron said.
Ron set the sacks down, and went through the other door. Hermione conjured up a tray, laid out the smaller burritos from Ron's haul. Gia pulled out bottles of vodka.
"What?" Arthur spat.
"Think they were legal," Gia said, "Clerk let us buy them."
Harry heard the footsteps from the fireplace, at the same time Hermione pulled the cover off the bowl, to reveal the cucumber, onion, and tomato salad.
"Interesting selection," said McGonagall as she approached the table.
Harry glanced at the Professor's bowl of mashed potatoes, the variety and the continents Harry crossed—distances that no longer weighed on Harry's mind.
"Suppose it is," Hermione said.
McGonagall's nose that sniffed, and Harry understood the cat like behavior. She took the first plate, helped herself to a bit of the sushi.
"Same place?" McGonagall asked.
"Osaka," Harry said, "There's a nice place, open all hours."
Chicken and the potatoes to McGonagall's plate. Harry grabbed a plate, a couple of the burritos, sushi, and chicken. Amos Diggory carried out a basket of wine, gin, Firewhiskey.
"Self–medicated after…you know," Amos said, "Shame to let it go to waste."
"Bit strong," said Snape, the robes in black, vodka bottle in hand, and the glare at Harry.
"Cheap," Harry said.
Harry took the plate, entered the light dining room, with wallpaper of white and yellow vertical strips, and he sat at the table, the centerpiece a handcarved statue of Cedric. Amos stood nearby, plate in his hand.
"I…sorry," Harry said.
Harry worked at the burrito, knew the medication was at work, he would've stopped otherwise. Gia sat next to Harry.
"In a year you'd be older than he was," Amos said.
"I don't have a year," Harry said, "Heard Voldemort's going to have me executed before then, so I'm a dead man walking."
Gia's glare at Harry.
"I don't want that either," Harry said to her, "But unless we fix it—that's the outcome coming to us."
"Me?" Gia asked.
"Didn't hear anything there," Harry said, "Know Hermione's around, so that's a good sign."
"Would you do better?" Amos Diggory asked, "If you, of today, were dropped into the third task. Think Cedric would be alive?"
"Maybe yes," Harry said, "If I'd been greedy, he'd still be here too."
"That's not you," Amos Diggory said.
Gia shook her head.
"Ahem!" came the voice, the throat clearing.
Everybody turned, Harry stood and crept into the living room. Dumbledore on the nice plushy arm chair, the others that sat around the room, or stood like Snape did too. Harry spotted Moody in the corner. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones stopped their conversation on the sofa, turned their attention.
"First," Dumbledore said, "Let us thank Amos Diggory for allowing us to meet in his home."
Light applause.
"Mr. Diggory has expressed interest in the card club," Dumbledore said, "If you find anybody else wanting to join, please send them in my direction."
"Potter's not helping the recruitment," Snape sneered, "His stunt—"
"It wasn't a stunt!" Harry protested.
"Children!" Dumbledore snapped.
Though Harry and Snape went silent, their mutual glare, the dagger look reflected in Snape's view. Snape picked up on Harry's wrath, the similarity to what he'd suffered from Lily on more than one occasion.
"I'm curious too," Amelia Bones said, the breaking of tension clear, "Above and beyond the rubbish in the Daily Rag."
Dumbledore's glance to Snape, the implied message, though Harry didn't catch the full extent.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "Let Mr. Potter have the floor."
Harry stepped forward, into the clearing by the fireplace. Harry's eyes that surveyed the small lot, Tonks with pink hair next to Hestia Jones.
A turn, more glances to the curiosity.
"After accidentally bringing Ebola to Hogwarts," Harry said.
"So that was you," Tonks said.
"Strange that it was ignored," Harry said, "I was suffering from that when we heard about Finnigan's rally, that so called picnic by the lake."
Harry went on to explain the curses, the fight with Archer, and Gairloch's curse.
"Gairloch sent a killing curse at you?" Amelia Bones asked.
"I ducked," Harry said, "Archer didn't."
Harry spotted the slight grin from Moody.
"Normally you'd be arrested," Amelia Bones said, "The Minister would've demanded it."
"I interceded before that could occur," Dumbledore said.
"Still," Amelia Bones said, "Killing an Auror isn't taken lightly, even if it's due to incompetence. And Gairloch should've been charged—killing curses at a school warrant scrutiny."
"Involved Harry," Arthur said, "So, I'd guess the matter's officially closed, no investigation."
"Figures," Ron said, "They wouldn't want to uncover their own role in the matter."
"Mind sharing?" Dumbledore asked, the blue eyes that glanced at red haired Ron first, and returned to Harry.
"We think the Aurors were in on the act," Harry said, "Because—"
"More excuse making Potter?" Snape sneered.
Harry bit his tongue as he caught the glare, the contempt for Harry behind the dark eyes, not out of place.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "Leave, await for my return."
Snape stood, left the living room, and went out the front door.
"What evidence do you have Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"More of hunches," Harry said, "And Archer's confidence of being paid for his role. Archer tangled, and if he were competent, I should've been nabbed immediately."
Harry spotted Shacklebolt's nod.
"Our impostors should be in a panic," Harry said, "None of their hair traps are working, and there's cracks in their method, the differences are showing. If Dumbledore hadn't of stopped it, I would've gotten a haircut, a new supply."
"You assume you know how the impostors are pulling it off," McGonagall said.
"The way I know of requires a bit of the person," Harry said, "Most favor hairs."
"Useless on a bald guy," Fred said.
Harry began to turn.
"How close were you?" Amelia Bones asked, "To capturing them?"
"I stunned them," Harry said, "Guessing somebody disillusioned them, maybe the Aurors, not really sure, as I was more irritated at the Aurors stopping me."
Harry went past the sofas, stood next to Fred.
Dumbledore's hand shook on his cane as he stepped out of the fireplace into the Headmaster's office.
"I can lend a hand," McGonagall said.
"Humor me," Dumbledore said.
A tap of the cane, the eyes toward the man in black that stood watch. Dumbledore felt the exhaustion, decided against his desk, sat in the arm chair instead. McGonagall moved and stood to his right.
"Ever consider I might've had something important to contribute?" Snape said, "Yet you let Potter squander—"
"Petty bickering to cut off Mr. Potter is contributing?" McGonagall asked.
"An entitled spoiled brat?" Snape asked, the glare returned.
"Quiet," Dumbledore said, "Both of you."
Dumbledore waited a moment.
"Or should we remind you why Mr. Potter lacks parents?" Dumbledore asked Snape, "Remind us whose words drew Voldemort's attention to the Potters'?"
Snape remained silent.
"Quite the opposite of spoiled—Mr. Potter's youth has been one of neglect and abuse," Dumbledore said, "His relatives treated him worse than you do, yet, it was the only spot I could shield him from your associates."
Dumbledore knew the walls that had been put up within Snape's mind.
"It's Harry Potter, not James Potter," McGonagall said, "They are definitely different people. Alike in some ways, but vastly different in others."
"His fame—" Snape said.
"Unaware of it or magic or Hogwarts until Hagrid rescued him," Dumbledore said, "I understand Harry's first introduction to you is you berating him, taking out your animosity of James onto a first year. You had the opportunity to extend friendship, to have counted in his life, and you squandered that."
"And you fail to see him for the Death Eater that he is," Snape said.
"Leave before I consider your tales and promises of regret—false," Dumbledore said.
Snape spat, turned, left the office.
"That man's difficult to wrangle without Remus," Dumbledore said as he missed the insight the werewolf could have, "Severus is to remain unaware of how close we've already come to losing Mr. Potter—permanently."
"Permanently?" McGonagall asked, her steps to the other armchair. She sat.
"He's already attempted suicide," Dumbledore said, "A logical yet dangerous conclusion that his death would stop the madness going on, one that's out of his control."
"Mr. Potter's already attempted it?" McGonagall asked.
Dumbledore nodded.
"Not like Mr. Weasley was trying to tip me off," Dumbledore said, "But he's witnessed at least several attempts."
McGonagall's head turned to the side, the eyes that examined the floor, the hand to her chin as she mulled it over.
"How many times?" McGonagall asked.
"I do not have the count," Dumbledore said, "Enough for Mr. Weasley to do extensive research."
"What measures are you taking?" McGonagall asked.
"Already taken," Dumbledore said, the hand that trembled on the cane.
Dumbledore took his steps to the pedestal, the crimson bird in red watched him back.
"Liberty away from Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "Arrangements with Puddlemere United."
"A lot on the shoulders of Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said.
Dumbledore's fingers trembled, stroked a couple of feathers.
"Mr. Weasley worries he'll miss out being a footnote in history," Dumbledore said, "Yet, Ronald's stepped up to do what is the most important task in our fight against Voldemort second only to what Harry has to do.
Dumbledore's lingering worry, new avenues of attack.
"Told you already," the Seeker said, over the mug in his hands, "I don't have many hairs left—we can't go squandering them. Not like Hogwarts is particularly important anymore."
The Chaser snorted, worked his mug.
"Except none of your traps don't work," the Seeker said, "They've unscheduled Potter from all the classes."
"What's he taking?" the Chaser asked.
"Dunno," the Seeker said, "Guess it's kinda pointless to actually be in a class you're suspended from all the time."
Both of them laughed, sipped a bit more.
"Nothing in the laundry either," the Seeker said, "Apparently they hadn't for ages."
The Seeker ate at an onion ring, sipped more.
"Got some hairs," the Chaser said.
"Sure, show up while Potter's suspended?" the Seeker said.
A sip, another onion ring.
"Up to something?" asked the Keeper, sitting down at the table.
Wormtail entered next as the Keeper ate an onion ring. The Seeker decided to shift the topic.
"Overheard the chief idiot," the Seeker said, "He complained that locator charms and snares stopped working on Potter—nothing in like a month."
"A snag?" asked the Dark Lord as he entered the room, the robes of black.
The Seeker swallowed, knew this was not the person to come to with problems, casual drinks now became a strategy brainstorm.
"Nothing that cannot be sorted out," the Keeper said, "Like the whereabouts of Potter?"
"Like Potter's advertising," the Seeker said, "As mysterious as that Ebola outbreak—muggle disease of south central Africa."
"Up to a week to symptoms before debilitation," the Keeper said, "Way too long from the Easter holiday for it to be a regular students."
"Potter's been around—who knows where," the Chaser said.
"Advertised in The Daily Prophet too," the Seeker said, "Tigers, Graceland, Egypt, and I think he was swimming…"
"A world traveler," the Chaser said, "Who knows where?"
"Like Potter has options," the Seeker said, understanding it, "The chief fool's saturated the isle with so many mines and spies, and without a house, no, it's a smart choice. Any other country, and he's got rights."
The Seeker ate at the cheeseburger that showed on the table.
"That will change with international cooperation," the Keeper said, "Thus Dumbledore's plan to keep Potter safe overseas has an expiration."
"International persuasion now requires more creative approaches," the Chaser said, "Less direct witnesses, more implied with robes, Potter marks, because we do have a problem with supply."
"Traps, mines, were working," the Seeker said, "Then poof—stopped, along with the locator charms. Only thing the hair traps are collecting is dust, even if I manage to see Potter there…which is rare. It's like the lot are untrackable!"
The Dark Lord took a step.
"Difficult yet possible," the Dark Lord said.
"You can bet that Headmaster would take that step," the Keeper said, "Explains why no Auror, not even the quill can locate Potter's whereabouts, and it'd break every trap, mine like this!" The Keeper snapped his fingers.
"We're giving up?" Wormtail asked.
"Never," the Seeker said.
Date: Fri Mar 29 06:40:04 2024