In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 17: Missing
Ron found himself bound by chains to a chair, a chair with raised benches surrounding him. Seated, as the chief of the Wizengamot with a ridiculous white wig, Harry stared down upon the red haired boy.
"The prosecutor may incriminate the guilty," Harry said.
"Associating with muggles, Harry Potter, mudbloods, and blood traitors," Hermione said, her robes billowing, "Ronald Bilius Weasley stands guilty of murder and betraying his friends."
"Guilty as charged," Harry sneered.
Ron shuddered as he woke Sunday morning, again, though, this time, the candles had been lit, it was time to begin waking, despite it being dark, windy, and raining outside the windows. Hermione was still leaning against his chest, her swollen eyes buried into his shoulder, she had cried herself to sleep.
Sob!
Hermione whimpered, her eyes still closed, but tears flowing. Ron wondered if her nightmares were as terrible as his had been, he smelled the sweat on her, figured they were. Ron's right hand worked the middle of her back. Her hand traced his nipples, felt down the stomach, her thumb stopped to feel his belly button. A door opened.
Cackle! Ha–Ha–Ha!
Laughter, the cackles, woke Hermione. Hermione quickly laid across Ron and opened the curtains; Seamus Finnigan was there, pointed as he laughed. Hermione glanced to her right, and she tumbled out.
"Wha—what happened?" Hermione stammered.
"I'm guessing another accident, right?" Seamus Finnigan said, "Can you bring that stuff down? We need wood for the fireplace." He left the dormitory.
Ron climbed out, helped Hermione to her feet as he stood. His eyes fixated onto the pile of charred wood, timbers, where Harry's four poster should have been, the trunk was intact at the foot of it.
"How? What? Where?" Ron stammered.
Hermione shrugged.
"Aren't you the least bit—?" Ron exclaimed.
"It's just too much," Hermione said, as she shook her head.
"Hey, hey," Ron said, as he pulled her to him, he held her, "I'm here."
"Explain yourselves," Professor McGonagall asked as she came in, her eyes focused on the pile of burnt timbers with badly singed white feathers littered across the floor.
Ron shrugged.
"We don't know," Hermione said, "Was like that when I woke up."
"And where is Mr. Potter now?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Dunno." Ron walked over, touched the Firebolt. "His Firebolt's here, and we did see him go to sleep on his bed. Obviously, with his Portkey—"
"Still on the Headmaster's desk, along with your wands," Professor McGonagall said.
"Then where's Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I must report on this," Professor McGonagall said, "Remain here."
Professor McGonagall left the dormitory, the door closed with the sound of it being locked. Ron's stomach growled.
"She could've at least brought breakfast," Ron said.
"How can you think of food?!" Hermione stammered.
"With a growling stomach that hasn't been fed since yesterday morning?" Ron mocked, "Must be because Harry's missing—"
Hermione shoved Ron, toppled him over. She ran for the shower.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted.
"Go away!" Hermione retorted.
Ron went to Harry's trunk, opened it, and removed the Marauder's Map; it was still active, it showed the people and places of Hogwarts. A flash of lightning, the storm outside picked up, made Ron grateful that he was in a large stone castle, rather than outside, even if he was accused of murder.
"Somebody forgot to clear this!" Ron shouted.
"What?!" Hermione replied.
Ron, however, took his time, studied it.
"Find me Harry Potter," Ron said to the map.
The map briefly blanked, before returning. Ron's finger moved the map drawing, and he peered over the main facets of the building, including the many corners, nooks, and crannies of the castle, examined each and every name. Ron finished studying, returned the map back into Harry's trunk, turned around, and went for the showers.
"I told you—go away!" Hermione snapped.
She was underneath the shower head, the hot water poured down.
"I checked Harry's map," Ron said as he stepped beneath the shower head.
"Bright idea, genius," Hermione said, "Well?"
"I couldn't find him," Ron said, as he reached for the soap, "Either he's not at Hogwarts or he's dead." A burst of citrus filled the air.
"Don't you dare suggest that!" Hermione retorted, her eyes flashed, her finger wagged at Ron.
"Face the facts!" Ron said, "He's always had enemies, enemies that'd kill him given half a chance—we've known it for ages, and he's dodged death before. As much as I'd like to think otherwise, we best prepare ourselves for the chance somebody could have succeeded."
"I will not entertain that," Hermione said.
An announcement came to their ears, of Professor McGonagall speaking.
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"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All members of staff, please report to the teachers' lounge."
"I wonder what that's for?" Ron said, sarcastically.
"Go figure it out!" Hermione snapped.
"Let's just relax," Ron said, "We're not going to help by fighting."
Hermione sighed.
"Sorry about that," Hermione said.
"Like this is easy," Ron said, "Lemme…"
He massaged Hermione's shoulders, she began to relax. Ron leaned over, kissed on her neck.
"Thank you," Hermione said.
Ron turned off the water, grabbed a towel, dried her. They left the shower.
"Has Mr. Potter returned?" Professor McGonagall asked, as she returned.
Ron faced Professor McGonagall.
"No," Ron replied.
"Is something—did you find something out?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"No," Ron replied, "Just speculated a bit too much, got carried away."
"Your presence is required in the Headmaster's office," Professor McGonagall said, "Come along."
Ron and Hermione followed Professor McGonagall down the stairs.
"So, why is everyone here?" Hermione asked as they came down into the crowded room.
Other students parted to make for a wide berth; they left Gryffindor Tower.
"All students are confined to their houses until Mr. Potter can be accounted for and a head count completed," Professor McGonagall said, "These matters are stressing Professor Dumbledore greatly."
"Should we have ignored those screams?" Ron asked.
"Do not get me wrong," Professor McGonagall said, "A true Gryffindor would not let others suffer while they have the power to do something about it. Albus and myself believe you and your intentions, which were honorable. Unfortunately, you had the misfortune of being accused because you did respond, albeit a bit hasty if you tripped over those you were trying to save. On the other hand, Minister Fallerschain seems to require more persuasion to accept the credibility of your actions and statements."
"Was there nobody else who could corroborate—?" Hermione asked.
"The shop keeper perished along with the victims," Professor McGonagall said, "We haven't found any witnesses willing to step forward."
"That bites," Ron said.
They came to the Stone Gargoyle on the second floor.
"Jelly babies," Professor McGonagall said.
Ron and Hermione stepped onto the ascending staircase, went into the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his untwinkling eyes focused upon Ron and Hermione standing in front of it.
"Can you elaborate on … the whereabouts of Mr. Potter?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"No, we do not know," Ron said, "A certain piece of parchment revealed nothing, so if he is at Hogwarts, he's dead."
"Disconcerting notion—" Professor Dumbledore said.
"Hopefully wrong," Ron said, "Without a broomstick, he didn't fly—"
"Good," Minister Fallerschain said as he entered the office with a loud slam of the doors, he was in his sky blue suit and flanked by two Aurors, "Two out of three—I specifically requested Potter."
"Whose whereabouts are … being searched for … by the entire staff," Professor Dumbledore said, "All precautions—"
"Dragon shit!" Minister Fallerschain exclaimed, "I specifically wanted to take them into custody, for both their safety and ours, and now I find you stalling. Well, make lemonade from lemons. So, while you find your misplaced Harry Potter, I will question these—"
Ron's stomach growled, once, twice, and again as it woke the snoozing paintings. Fawkes joined Professor Dumbledore in looking at Ron.
"When did you last eat?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Yesterday morning," Hermione said, "Both of us."
"I have a search to attend to." Dumbledore waved his wand, a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared on the small table by the three armchairs. "I expect full cooperation … from both of you … with Mr. Fallerschain's questions, … after which, you are to … return to Gryffindor Tower. … Due to the seriousness of … the pending charges, … you are not to … assist in the ongoing … search for Mr. Potter. … Am I understood?"
Ron swallowed hard. "Yes."
Hermione nodded.
"Good." Professor Dumbledore stood slowly, used the cane for balance. The tap of his cane accented his slow gait until he left the office. Ron reached for a sandwich.
"Just what do you think you're doing—?!" Minister Fallerschain stammered.
"Eating," Ron said, the sandwich poised before his mouth.
"Only when I say you can." Minister Fallerschain drew his wand, the sandwich left Ron's hands and flew back to the plate. His left hand drew a vial from his breast pocket. "You will consume this."
Ron and Hermione took drops from the vial, while the sandwiches and juice sat there, to remain virtually untouched.
"Sit!" the Minister commanded.
Ron sat on the soft leather armchair. Hermione sat on the next one. The Minister brought out his Quick Quotes Quill and set it onto a roll of parchment.
"I'm sorry if I was a big harsh yesterday," Minister Fallerschain said, "Clearly, Potter's the ringleader, organized everything, so you just followed him like the obedient pawns that you are. So, I may be persuaded to be more lenient, if you cooperate. So, lets, once again, go over Potter's murder plans."
"We did not murder anybody," Ron stated.
"Did Potter inform you of his murder plans before or after you learned of a visit to Hogsmeade?" the Minister asked.
"Harry did not have murder plans," Hermione said.
"You, Weasley," the Minister pointed at Ron as he spoke, "Based on your file, I'd expect Potter kept you in the dark, as you're not exactly the brightest. But you—" the Minister pointed to Hermione "—I'm surprised Potter didn't let you in on it. If he had, well, you might've devised a better escape."
"Harry had only one plan," Hermione said, "Show Gia around Hogsmeade and bang."
"How can you deny what goes on in Potter's mind?" Minister Fallerschain said, "He is not here to speak for himself. Where is he?"
"I do not know," Hermione said.
"I do not know," Ron said.
"Impossible!" the Minister exclaimed, "You're his conspirators, what was the getaway plan?"
"None," Ron replied, "There was no conspiracy."
"Hogwash, and you know it!" the Minister snapped, "Now, lets go over your history Weasley."
Minister for Magic, Victor Fallerschain, kept up his questioning for hours, focused his sights on Ron and Hermione. Ron and Hermione kept their focus on the Minister. None of them noticed as Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered the office. Professor McGonagall held the top of the cane, assisting the Headmaster to remain standing. Professor Snape entered, he too, stayed quiet.
"You claim to be dating?" the Minister demanded of Ron.
Ron's stomach growled, very loud.
"Torture by starvation … is against numerous … laws and statutes," Professor Dumbledore said, "And doing so to … children—they are underage."
"Said he could get more reliable information this way," Ron said, feeling more eager to bait the man, "He is the Minister for Magic!"
"Damn right I am!" Minister Fallerschain said, "I can conduct my interrogation in any manner—"
"Pardon my intrusion." Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, picked up a quill, and started to write on a piece of parchment. "Please continue, … excellent material … for The Daily Prophet."
"Eat!" Minister Fallerschain barked at Ron. He turned toward the Headmaster.
Professor McGonagall waved her wand, a couple of fried turkey legs were added to the plate. Ron immediately grabbed one of the drumsticks, sank his teeth into it.
"It has been clear since the start that you intend to sabotage this investigation," Minister Fallerschain said, "Clearly the standards of discipline at Hogwarts are in dire need of review. Good Day!" He bolted for the door. Professor Snape followed the Minister, got out in time as the Minister slammed the door as hard as he could before they left.
Ron stood there, ate the turkey in front of the two teachers.
"We have conducted a thorough search for Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "All ideas and efforts have been fruitless."
"May I have my Portkey?" Ron asked.
"Did you fail to … understand the seriousness?" Professor Dumbledore ask.
"It'd be the first place I'd look for Harry," Ron replied.
"I will consider it," Professor Dumbledore said.
"In the meanwhile, we will continue to search for clues into yesterday's massacre," Professor McGonagall said, "While his theory of your guilt is unsatisfactory, we have been unable to uncover any proof in your favor either."
"I can spare you … Azkaban," Professor Dumbledore said, "But only for a short while."
"It'd be best if you considered your defense," Professor McGonagall said, "We'll grant you limited access to the library."
"Owl Madam Pince … for needed books," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Can we trust you to go straight for your dormitory?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Yes," Ron said.
Ron and Hermione left the office.
"We're charged with murder!" Hermione said, "And you're demanding your wand—"
"Where else should we look?" Ron said
"Hogwarts," Hermione said.
Ron shook his head as they entered Gryffindor Tower.
"Bloody hell, get out!" Seamus Finnigan shouted, pointed to the door.
"FUCK OFF!" Ron shouted.
Ron and Hermione went up the stairs. Seamus Finnigan followed.
"I told you—" Seamus Finnigan said as he entered the dormitory.
"You have zero authority!" Ron exclaimed, finger pointed at Seamus, "We're confined to Gryffindor tower, so if you don't want to see us, buzz off!"
"Open a window," Seamus Finnigan said before he bolted into a run, shoved Ron against a closed window, the storm still raging outside, "I'll help you out!"
"He'd break his neck!" Hermione snapped.
"Exactly," Seamus Finnigan said, "You're unwanted."
"Does the word framed enter your noggin?" Ron belted.
"Another lie," Seamus Finnigan said, "One lie after another, and you think we'd believe you?"
"Harry's bed is gone," Hermione said.
Ron glanced at where there was an empty space, no bed next to the trunk.
"Good, hope they don't have to replace it," Seamus Finnigan said.
"You arsehole!" Ron said, as he shoved Seamus Finnigan.
Ron's biceps flexed, his feet against the wall aided his push, as he propelled Seamus Finnigan across the room, until Seamus Finnigan was on the floor next to his own four poster bed. Seamus Finnigan glared upward.
"Get bent," Seamus Finnigan said.
"Go!" Ron snapped, pointed to the door, "Or fall out the window if you wish."
"This ain't over," Seamus Finnigan said as he left.
"My, my," Professor Lupin said as he entered, "You need allies Ron, not enemies."
"Tell them that," Ron said, "They won't listen."
"They're frustrated," Hermione said, "Can't blame them."
"Everybody is responsible for how they perceive and respond to the world," Professor Lupin said, "You know that."
"Of course," Hermione said, "I'm frustrated too."
"Hogwarts is a big place, surrounded by an even bigger forest," Professor Lupin said, "If deliberately concealed in a good location, one could be forever lost."
"That map," Hermione said, "How would a dead person show up on it?"
"That depends, most likely," Professor Lupin said, "Ghosts show up."
"Of course," Hermione said, "If he were dead, without a ghost, would his body show up?"
"I do not know," Professor Lupin said, "Nor am I about to find out, I trust."
"We speculated," Ron said, "After we saw the bed."
"The remains of Harry's bed have naturally been searched," Professor Lupin said, "Apart from the fact it was destroyed, nothing else of significance was found on it."
"Ron's got an alternate theory," Hermione said.
"It's not a theory," Ron said, "Unless he's dead, I know exactly where Harry'd go."
Earlier that morning….
James Potter, a foot taller than Harry, stood in a empty white hall, black was enveloping the white. Lily Potter stood besides James, both shielding Harry from the menacing snake approaching.
"Stand aside!" the snake shouted.
"Not Harry, not Harry!" Lily pleaded.
"Take him and run!" James commanded.
Lily fell back, her figure looming over the sixteen year old Harry squirming on the floor, his hand clenched over his scar.
"Avada Kedavra!" the snake lunged, sunk its teeth into the neck of James Potter, its tail wrapped around Lily and squeezed. Bones shattered as Lily gasped her last breaths. A curse then flew from the fangs of the snake and struck Harry's forehead. Rebounding, the green curse hit the snake.
"It's not over, not yet!" the snake promised.
With green flame, the snake engulfed in flame over the bodies of James and Lily Potter. Their ash sprinkled down, but wind blew them away. Harry leaned over James Potter and shook.
"Dad!" Harry yelled, "Dad!"
Tears flowed down Harry's cheeks and hit the body. Slowly, the hair changed to red, the face became freckled. Laying down, below Harry, was now Ronald Weasley.
"Ron?" Harry asked.
Ron smiled.
Harry watched as Lily split into two and changed into a lifeless Hermione. He—
In the sleepy commuter town of Noigate, south of London, in the middle class neighborhood along Oak St, where detached houses stood alone, the blinds of the upper back bedroom were not closed, nor the window itself. Beside that wide side window, one of two for that bedroom, was a perch on top of the shelving, with white feathers of the owl that was out at the moment. Covers strewn to the side and the world brought sunlight into the upper floor room, onto the starkers sixteen year old boy who had his face buried into the bosom of a similarly undressed teenage girl, the sweating boy was face down at an angle on the bed.
Gia awoke to his family jewels entrusted to the palm of her hand, his arm around her hips, his moist breaths hitting her skin, and the sweat off his forehead was trickling down the crack of her bosom. Gia's free hand reached over and quickly slapped his buttocks, felt his eyelashes move as his eyelids opened.
"Weren't you, like, grounded?" she asked.
He turned his head, stared at the dresser on the other side of the bed. "I'm not complaining."
She right hand started rubbing his left ear lobe, he sighed.
"I certainly went to sleep there," he said, "Woke up here and I'm not going back."
"Well, I've got an idea," Gia said as she slipped out of position.
"Anything that doesn't involve being accused of murder," Harry said.
"It's not that," Gia said, she pulled at Harry's hand.
"No adults either," Harry said.
"Kristen's on the beat, Snuffles is chasing birds, I think," Gia said, "Richard's at the airport and Kurt took Ant to church."
"Ant, to church?" Harry asked.
"Maybe they're hoping she finds inspiration," Gia replied.
Harry crawled out of bed, glanced down. On the floor was Snuffles' collar; Harry recognized the Hogwarts pin, likely an emergency Portkey, but he had no patience for, for them. Harry grabbed the broom leaning back against the wall, used it to send the collar underneath the bed and out of reach; it slid across the hardwood floor until it settled on a crumpled, dirty, set of Harry's school clothes.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they left her bedroom.
"Mind me leaving it as a surprise?" Gia asked.
Harry went down the stairs.
"I am interested," Harry said.
Harry turned and pressed her against the wall, he leaned in. He kissed her.
"Not that easy, Mister," Gia said.
Harry moved back, let her lead them out of 26 Oak St into warm and sunny morning.
"A surprise, I get it," Harry said, "You didn't even grab your purse and I don't have a wallet."
"Don't need them," Gia said, "Alright, just keep us…secluded on the train, we'll just have to risk it. I figured you weren't going to fly us there."
"Can't," Harry said, "It's at … school, which I'd rather not think about. It's fucking annoying! Grand Minister Dick accused us for trying to sort it out!"
Gia wrapped her arm around Harry.
"Thank you for sleep walking," Gia said.
"Way too far to do that," Harry said, "It's in Scotland."
"However far it really is, great call," Gia said.
"Suppose I could do it—if I had the Portkey," Harry said, "I could use that in my sleep—but Dumbledore took it away."
They made it to the station. A half hour later Gia pointed to the park ahead, Neptune's Waterpark and Amusement Center.
"This was your idea?" Harry asked.
Gia studied the bottle green eyes lighting up, eyes wide, studying the park.
"Have you ever been to a waterpark?" Gia asked.
"No," Harry said, grin wide. "I could imagine the Dursleys brought Dudley on one of the many times I was left in the care of Mrs. Figg. We need tickets, right?"
"Not today," Gia said, "It's the end of the season, maybe it's a condition to their license to operate, but it's free today."
Harry kissed her and they went in.
Ron stood in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk, the man sat behind it, while the Minister for Magic had his head in the fireplace.
"I don't give a rats arse—!" the Minister exclaimed.
"He is not happy," Ron said.
"Neither am I," Professor Dumbledore said.
"FINE!" the Minister snapped as he pulled his head out. The green flame vanished. In his sky blue suit, Minister Fallerschain turned to face them.
"I'm ready to go to Azkaban," Ron stated. He was glad he made Hermione stay behind in the dormitory because he didn't want her to hear him say those words.
"That will not be happening, at least not today," Minister Fallerschain said, "Otterswick is a decent man, most of the time, but he's thick enough to believe the case isn't solid when we have plenty of eyewitnesses! So all charges have been suspended!"
"As Minister you can certainly press them," Professor Dumbledore said.
"It's political suicide to ignore his recommendations," Minister Fallerschain said, "Be on notice that the investigation is continuing. Once the evidence is sufficient of your guilt, the charges will be reinstated and the trial before the entire Wizengamot will commence, understood?"
"Yes," Ron said.
"Same is true for your conspirators too," the Minister said, "I have to go and face the wrath of The Daily Prophet."
Both Aurors accompanied Minister Fallerschain out of the office.
"Does this mean what I think it does?" Ron asked.
Professor Dumbledore took a moment to study Ron.
"I will, of course, take a favorable outcome," Professor Dumbledore said, "Though with twelve dead, there is no real favorable outcome. Still, I'd take his threat very seriously if I were you, because even if it weren't the Dark Lord himself doing the killing, I would not be surprised if we were to find Voldemort somehow involved."
"Of course," Ron replied, "Can I have my wand and things back?"
"As charges have been withdrawn until further notice," Professor Dumbledore said, "School rules no longer require that you be suspended, therefore, you, Miss. Granger, and Mr. Potter are all to be reinstated, should Harry be found."
Professor Dumbledore waved his wand, a sack came over, and he put it onto the desk.
"Thank you, I'll take Hermione…you know, celebrate, and see if Harry is there," Ron said, "If I may say, you seem a bit chipper than usual."
"Madam Pomfrey has found a new potion," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Good, then you'll get better," Ron said.
"Unfortunately not," Professor Dumbledore said, "While there will be good and bad days ahead, the progression is irreversible."
"Sorry," Ron said.
"Do not fret," Professor Dumbledore said, "There is only one group of people eager for death of another. I do not believe you belong to that group, right?"
"Of course not," Ron said.
"Good luck," Professor Dumbledore said.
Ron opened the sack, saw the contents, including his wand, the Portkey, his journal, and his Firebolt.
"Thank you," Ron said.
Ron left the office, went down the stairs, to the second floor corridor. He climbed, made it to the fat lady.
"Murder," Ron said to her.
The portrait swung open, he entered the common room.
"Lemme guess," Seamus Finnigan said, as he stood, "You fucking—" he began to run.
Ron pulled the wand out of the sack, aimed it.
"Released," Ron said, "Stay away from me."
Ron went up the stairs, returned to his dormitory. Hermione was on his bed.
"Well?" Hermione asked as she got off.
"We can do it," Ron said as he pulled out his Portkey.
"Your ploy worked," Hermione said.
"It wasn't a ploy," Ron said, "Hogwarts or Gia, what'd you think Harry would choose?"
"Hog—no, you're right, Gia," Hermione said, "We've been given permission to get him?"
"Charges were dropped," Ron said.
"We're cleared?!" Hermione asked.
"No, dropped until—" Ron said, "the Minister wants more evidence, until then, we're okay. Ready?"
Ron grabbed Hermione, held her tight, as he activated the Portkey.
"Y—you didn't warn—" Hermione said.
Ron shrugged as the Portkey pulled them away. They landed in Gia's bedroom.
"At least his habits haven't changed," Hermione said as she cautiously stepped around clothing on the floor, none of it seemed to like the closet. "Is he hoping that an attacker would slip and fall?" She threw the mix of clothes into a heap in the closet, cleared a path to the door.
A black blur flew in through the door, Snuffles barged in, came to a fast halt, looked up at Ron and Hermione standing there. Snuffles backed up, his butt closed the door, before he pounced up onto the bookshelf next to the window, shuttered the blinds to seal off the evening coming in, jumped onto the bed, and transformed.
"Where's Harry?!" Sirius demanded, "Moony sent an owl—nearly spooked those Muggles—not to mention, this—" he shoved The Daily Prophet at them. Ron and Hermione sat on the bed as they read.
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Sunday 29 September 1996
The Daily Prophet
Potter Murders Twelve Hogsmeade Innocents
As stated in yesterday's Evening Prophet, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and three accomplices viciously murdered twelve residents of Hogsmeade and injured six more including four schoolmates. Harry Potter and his three accomplices gathered around Kildary's and Milton's bookshop, waited until a sufficient number of targets were present, and satisfied his voracious appetite for blood by performing curse after curse, slaughtering to make the biggest and bloodiest massacre known within Hogsmeade in living memory. See pages 2 to 7 for extensive photographs depicting the aftermath.
Dumbledore Dismisses Potter's Blame
Citing extreme pressure from Albus Dumbledore upon the investigation, the Minister for Magic felt compelled to drop the murder charges that were pending against the famous Boy–Who–Lived, rendering this teenager immune to prosecution for any of his contemptible actions. This sets a dangerous precedent that the Minster hopes to overturn through a more probing investigation that should unearth convincing evidence that even the likes of Albus Dumbledore cannot ignore, thereby bringing a rambunctious teenager under control.
Dragons Gets Snake of Guilty Wizard
Friday, Dalbert Clifynydd plead guilty in front of the Wizengamot to smuggling two freshly hatched dragons into the country while concealing them in his trousers last July.
Mediwizards and law enforcement were summoned by Crown Inspectors who witnessed the howling defendant's trouser smoldering. Citing medical privacy, St. Mungo's administrators have refused to disclose whether treatment to restore the defendant's distinguishing features was successful or not.
After his six month sentence in Azkaban, Dalbert intends to petition to change his name to Del.
Letters to the Editor
Dear Editor,
I am astonished that Harry Potter would be even capable of harming another person in light of his heroic stance against You–Know–Who. I am certain that when the facts are fully known that Harry Potter will be vindicated.Doris Crockford.
Dear Editor
This is another example of how we are fanning the flames to a famously favored teenager with known mental issues. It astonishes me how charges could be dropped in the face of such overwhelming evidence.
(name withheld)
Dear Editor,
Ever since Rita Skeeter's revelation to Harry Potter's unbalanced mental state, I have been sincerely hoping that his troubles would not escalate. Unfortunately, the previous Ministry for Magic allowed him to continue to participate in the Triwizard Championship several years ago, a decision that cost poor Cedric Diggory his life. Once again, we find more victims of Potter's mental problems and we should treat this as a cry by a troubled boy for help. Every wizard and witch should feel obligated to render any assistance needed to help Harry Potter accept his condition and the assistance we all offer him.
Susan Macmillan
"It should be obvious to even a bloke like Severus Snape that there are issues to be discussed," Sirius said.
"And I was about to—" Ron said.
"We did not murder them," Hermione said, "We—"
"I never doubted you or Harry," Sirius said, "However, it's clear that others do not see it the same way as you do."
Hermione snorted.
Ron and Hermione explained the past two days, taking over an hour to do so.
"This is serious," Sirius said, "I'm going to lend a nose in the matter."
Sirius summoned the dog collar from beneath the bed, tapped the Portkey, and vanished.
"We may as well look." Ron said as he opened the door.
Hermione and Ron walked onto the landing.
"Whatcha doing?" Andy demanded.
Andy was at her desk, scribbling onto a sheet of paper.
"We're looking for Gia and Harry," Ron said.
"Can't help you—they're not here!" Andy slammed her pencil down, it broke. She glared at them.
"It's always Richard, Richard, Richard, and his friends, friends!" Andy complained, "I sure wish he'd stop rubbing it in."
"Ron…" Hermione walked into Andy's room.
Ron went down the stairs and into the living room. A figure loomed in the corridor to the kitchen.
"And you are—?" Kristen Osborn inquired.
"Um…" Ron stuttered.
The green front door opened, through which Harry and Gia walked in from the darkness of the night. Their skin, from head to toe, were red, very, very sunburned red.
"Didn't you think of sunscreen?" Kristen asked.
"We are now," Harry said.
"Harry," Ron started.
Harry, though, fixed his eyes onto Ron's. Kristen disappeared up the spiral stairs to the master bedroom. Ron gripped Harry's shoulder.
"Oww!" Harry snapped, and pulled back.
"Sorry," Ron apologized as he recoiled.
Kristen came back down, brought over a bottle of aloe.
"You may appreciate this," Kristen said as she handed the bottle to Gia. Kristen went up the the stairs.
Harry's eyes studied Ron's for a moment.
"We're heading back out," Harry said to Gia, "I'll do that stuff later."
A sharply contrasted pair of teenage boys walked out the door; fair skinned Ron, and lobster Harry. Ron checked his pace to allow Harry to move slower. Harry grimaced a bit with each footstep as the bare foot came into contact with the pavement of Oak St. They turned into a park where Harry immediately tread on the grass and laid down
"Better, much better," Harry said.
"Your bed was toast this morning," Ron said as he sat a few feet away, "The teachers are searching for you. I guessed here."
"You get the prize," Harry said, "Shame I'm not going back."
"What?!" Ron stammered.
Harry sat up, looked at Ron. "It's clear I don't belong there—everything, plus, waking up here—"
"Huh?" Ron arched his eyebrows. "You can't just—"
"You're sounding like Hermione." Harry laid back down. "Can't explain it, like I wanted to be here instead of there—why fight it? And, as a convicted murderer—"
"Not so," Ron said, "Suspension is over, charges have been dropped—the Minister seems to need more time to gather evidence."
"Should take forever since we didn't do it," Harry said.
"Agreed—if it's fair," Ron said, "Quite obvious the Minister is under tremendous pressure to nab some culprits and we're convenient. Really, how'd you commute?"
"Dunno," Harry said, "Maybe I just wanted to be here, really wanted to be here? At least according to your stupid rubbish about that sort of thing."
"It can happen," Ron said, "I mean, you making magic even if you're not thinking about it. Still, come back, at least let them know you're safe and sound."
"Maybe," Harry said, "Should've brought Gia along, she can really tickle—"
"Have her play with your scar," Ron said.
"I'd go back and that'd just act up again," Harry said.
"And just how did it act up?" demanded Hermione as she came up to them. She leaned over, punched Harry in the chest.
"Ow!" Harry rolled over twice.
"Notice the sunburn!" Ron exclaimed, "Head to toe."
"And nothing left out," Hermione snapped.
"Strange way to greet a friend," Ron said, "Harry—you said your scar—"
"Nothing to worry about," Harry said, "Slight tingle back at Hogwarts—"
"Nothing?" Hermione said, "Realize—"
"So, you're definitely suggesting that You–Know–Who had something to do with this?" Ron asked.
"Possible," Hermione said, "It's certainly not impossible. Especially if your scar is screaming in agony."
"It wasn't like that!" Harry snapped as he stood up, "It was light, a light tingle, like he laughed over the carnage or something. If you two are going to insist on fighting—I don't want to see it!"
Harry walked off.
"You!" Hermione shook her finger at Ron. "You removed him—"
"He wanted to talk!" Ron snapped.
"So do I!" Hermione said, "You'd think after a day at the waterpark—his todger would have had enough excitement."
"Can you stop biting?" Ron asked.
"First good use of your brains, ever," Hermione said, "Your todger figured it out, that the tastes of her breasts would wet his appetite enough to hitchhike—"
"He didn't hitchhike," Ron said.
She arched her eyebrows.
"Look in the mirror!" Ron said, "Be nice—you thought we had lost him."
"I…" Hermione said.
"A thousand pieces that bed was in," Ron said, "You worried that even one of our housemates could've done it, that Harry was really gone?"
Ron moved in, hugged, held her tight. She studied the freckled face, the red eyebrows, underneath the mop of red hair. Her mouth opened for a moment, then closed.
"By the way," Ron said, "Harry has no clue, none whatsoever, on how he made the trip, only that he did, and he wasn't going to disagree with it. They truly love each other, it's the best thing that's ever happened for him."
"Thank you," Hermione said.
"I do care about you," Ron said, "Always have, even if I've not been…perfect about it."
Ron pulled Hermione into a tight hug, both remained there, and watched the constellations above.
Harry took a bit of time until he returned to 26 Oak St. He saw the open window, the shadows on the ceiling, and felt like doing things different.
"Hey!" Harry shouted at the window.
"There is the living room," Gia said, as she came to the window, "With this thing called a door."
Harry walked to the back corner of the back yard, started in a dash. As he passed the edge of the house, he jumped, went up. His fingers gripped the window ledge, he dangled.
"That's the hard way," Gia said.
"So?" Harry asked.
Git reached her hand out. Harry swung, gripped it, and pulled up; he climbed in through the window. Richard was standing there, while Jen was on the bed. Jen glanced at him.
"That is so going to hurt," Jen said.
"Yeah," Harry replied.
"Nice jump," Richard said, "Well, I passed—"
"Passed what?" Harry asked.
"My pilot's license!" Richard said, "It's in the mail—managed the private pilot's license!"
Harry shook his head. "Still don't understand—"
"I can fly a plane!" Richard exclaimed.
"He hasn't told a soul," Jen said, counting on her fingers, "Unless you count him bragging to Mum, Dad, Ant, me, a fellow at the grocery, the chemist, that kid down the street, and a few others."
"Let's get you taken care of," Gia said to Harry.
Gia pulled Harry into the bathroom.
"I could just go to the Hospital Wing," Harry said.
"Going back?" Gia asked.
"Dunno," Harry said.
"Tonight?" Gia asked.
"No," Harry replied.
"Good," Gia said, "Let's get started."
Gia escorted Harry into the bathtub. She uncapped the bottle, and began to smear it onto his forehead.
Monday morning, Ron activated his Portkey. Harry and Hermione held on, as it brought them back to Hogwarts, to the sixth year boys' dormitory.
"Ow…ow," Harry said, as he landed, "This fucking hurts."
"You should've taken precautions," Hermione said, as she also landed.
Harry went for the door.
"I'm seeing Madam Pomfrey," Harry said.
"Dumbledore, first," Hermione said.
"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled.
While Ron and Hermione went for the shower, Harry left the dormitory.
"Who are you?" Seamus Finnigan asked as Harry went through the common room.
Harry, however, walked fast, out, deliberately, and carefully, wishing he had flown his Firebolt instead, though he then thought the butt might hurt even more. He made it to the Stone Gargoyle, went up the steps, entered the Headmaster's office.
"I am pleased…" Professor Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes studied the figure before him, Harry with his deep, deep, red skin, from the toes to the forehead, before he focused on the bottle green eyes. The blue eyes stayed twinkling. "At least you have your mother's eyes, so I can tell it's you."
"Yeah," Harry said as he held his arms away from his body, "I was about to see Madam Pomfrey."
"I can only imagine the discomfort if you're voluntarily seeking her out, nor will I discourage it," Professor Dumbledore said, "I am, understandably, curious as to how you traveled to get there."
"I don't know," Harry said, "I went to bed, here, Saturday night; and woke up there. Ron thinks it's accidental magic, maybe he's right? Foul play certainly wouldn't have left me there, of all places."
"Foul play would not," Professor Dumbledore said, "However, you are proclaiming what would be an interesting feat of accidental magic."
"How ever it was done, I was not aware of it," Harry said, "Can I go?"
"Seeing you here is more pleasant than the alternative that had been suggested," Professor Dumbledore said, "Welcome back, and I'll let you take care of that sunburn before we take care of the remaining business."
"Thanks," Harry said.
Harry turned, left the office.