In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 30: Black and White
"Do you understand my predicament?" asked Puddlemere United Coach Darrell Meyers, early Wednesday, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
"I certainly understand why my sleep was of little concern," Professor McGonagall said, dryly, as she read The Daily Prophet in her hands.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Puddlemere United Players Caught Doping, Suspended
Puddlemere United players Amy Greystok, Luke Sedgwick, and Sylvester Shadwell all tested positive for Golan's Fast Flying Potion during routine examinations; these players have been suspended pending the outcome of an investigation as per union rules. Upon inquiry, the Minister for Magic Victor Fallerschain responded.
"Cheating in Professional Quidditch, especially when so many young wizards and witches look up to these athletes, sets a poor example. Therefore, I wholeheartedly endorse the sanctions that the Quidditch League seek to impose, both on the players and the team."
Puddlemere United will immediately feel the effects for its upcoming season opener against the Falmouth Falcons, with three players that cannot be substituted in time for the match, nor can the team elect to forfeit without also forfeiting any chance at winning the league championship. Odds are no longer in Puddlemere Uniteds favor now that they have no Seeker, and only one Keeper for the match.
"What may also concern you is Oliver Wood," Coach Meyers said, "He supposedly slipped in the shower last night, so he's out. In St. Mungo's in a coma for severe concussion and other trauma."
"My goodness," Professor McGonagall said.
"Whatever the circumstances, I have players that will be missing Saturday's match," Coach Meyers said, "Without a Seeker or a Keeper, instinct says we may have to forfeit the match."
"Good to see your priorities straight," Professor McGonagall said, dryly.
"Obviously, I'm required to consult the team owners," Coach Meyers said, "Or their representatives." He pointed to Professor Dumbledore. "I've already spoken with Devlin, but he's also at a loss to the best course, not to mention the hassle of refunding tickets and lost concessions."
"Is there nothing you can do?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Roster's already been submitted, so I'm magically bound to it," Coach Meyers said, "Ordinarily, if several players were sick, I could hire in, or postpone, but because of the nature of this scandal, I can't—even the Ministry agrees that a prejudicial forfeit would be required, seriously affecting our chances for the cup at the start of the season! I've contested their findings, but that won't clear up in time for Saturday's match. The only people I could substitute in would have to be from a non–existent practice squad."
Professor Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkled.
"Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"I have the solution for you," Professor Dumbledore said to Coach Meyers.
"Hello," Hermione said, later that morning in the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dormitory at Hogwarts, "What's this?"
She walked over, picked up a scrap of parchment from the floor near the bed of Dean Thomas.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
We are removing Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger
We are expelling Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger
We are evicting Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger
Gryffindor is evicting Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger
The following are evicted from Gryffindor: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger
Pursuant to H.R.R. …
Fuck! You're an idiot Dean.
"Can they?" Ron asked.
"No," Hermione said, "Expulsion is in the hands of both Professor Dumbledore and the Head of House, while the Sorting Hat would have to approve the house eviction."
"I don't see Dumbledore removing Harry," Ron said.
Hermione studied his face, the solemn freckled face that showed Ron's confidence.
"What about us?" Hermione asked.
"Give Dumbledore some credit," Ron said, "Without us, Harry'd quit Hogwarts in a heartbeat."
Hermione saw those blinking blue eyes watching her between those red eyelashes.
"Harry knows how urgent it is for him to stay," Hermione said.
"We've already had to beg him," Ron said, "Look at Justin Prewett! Suffering's continuing, in Harry's name, so of course he's thinking he'd solve it by quitting."
"Quitting would only make matters worse," Hermione said, "Can't you see that?"
"Hello?" Ron said, "This is Harry we're talking about, right?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, her eyes drifted down to the floor, to admit the truth.
Pop!
"Dobby wonders where Harry Potter is," Dobby said as he appeared, platters on his hands, the smell of the bacon filled the room. "Dobby puzzled by Harry Potter's bed going unused."
"Thank you Dobby," Hermione said
"He does have a girlfriend," Ron whispered to Dobby, before he grabbed a slice of the bacon, ate.
"Dobby puzzled by laundry," Dobby said.
Hermione scrutinized the big eyes.
"What's puzzling?" Hermione asked.
"Bad House–Elf!" Dobby banged his head on Harry's four–poster.
"No, you are a good House–Elf," Hermione said, "His laundry—?"
"What about his laundry?" Ron said, "It will help Harry Potter."
"Dobby sees very small amounts of laundry," Dobby said as he turned back to Harry nad Ron, "Dobby only sees school uniforms, school uniforms in funny places, places like the Library or a broom cupboard."
Hermione caught Ron's eyes as he studied the House–Elf intently, her eyes returned to Dobby.
"Please be more specific Dobby," Hermione said, "This could help Harry."
"Dobby talks to other Elfs," Dobby said, "Strays are found shortly after rumored incidents, strays that had previously vanished from the laundry prior to delivery to Potter."
"Thanks you," Hermione said, "One favor please?"
Dobby's eyes winked at her.
"Do not wash the next uniform found in an odd place," Hermione said, "Save it aside instead, we may get the evidence Harry needs."
"Dobby is good House–Elf." Dobby vanished.
Ron's eyes glanced at the grin on Hermione's face.
"Don't you get it Ron?" Hermione said, "It means your doubles are tampering with the laundry, that may be very useful."
"It still reeks in here," said Pansy Parkinson, in the Charms classroom, the final lesson of the day.
"It's the beasts," said Justin Finch–Fletchley, his eyes landed upon Harry and Ron, "I wouldn't hold your breath, we'll be dead before anything happens to them."
"Wonder what charm we would send the bullies to Azkaban," Finnigan said, loudly.
Ring!
"Finally," Ron said as they hurriedly packed their things, "A chance for Gryffindor to practice!"
"Like yesterday?" Harry asked.
"Like you could've foreseen that?" Hermione asked.
They left the classroom.
"Run!" Ron said.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
Ron and Harry, though, broke into a run, Hermione ran as she tried to keep up.
"Potter!" came the shout down the seventh floor corridor as they approached the Fat Lady.
"Stinks!" Harry said fast and loud to the Fat Lady.
They went through, up the stairs, and panted for a moment in the dormitory.
"You ran," Hermione said.
"Not taking any chances," Harry said.
"I'll use Harry's," Ron said as he handed Hermione the Hogwarts Pin.
"Ta," Hermione said.
"Potter!" came the voice, as the door to the dormitory opened.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had their wands drawn, aimed, as Puddlemere United Assistant Coach Adam Gerber came into the dormitory.
"Easy, easy," Coach Gerber said, "You need practice? I can help."
"How?" Ron asked.
"I know you're about to go to practice, but we're in a bit of bind," Coach Gerber said, "We need your help."
"Us?" Harry asked, dubious.
"We're down four players, both Keepers and Seekers," Coach Gerber, "Without those, we have no hope for winning Saturday's match. Can you two fill in?"
Both Harry and Ron stood there, mouths disconnected, and stared.
"Is grass green?" Hermione asked.
"Yes!" Ron and Harry shouted in unison.
"Good," Coach Gerber said, a smile came to his face, "Practice everyday after classes, work with the team."
Harry had a grin, along with Ron.
"See you later," Hermione said.
"Come," Coach Gerber said, "We've got all the equipment you'll need, including brooms."
Harry and Ron followed; they left the dormitory with Coach Gerber.
"Oliver Wood?" Harry asked.
"Coma," Coach Gerber said, "Don't worry, he'll recover, but not in time for Saturday's match."
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Dunno," Coach Gerber said.
"The other three?" Ron asked.
"Failed test," Coach Gerber said, "Some magic mushroom or something, banned substance, so ineligible."
"What?" Harry asked.
"I think Coach Meyers stained his trousers," Coach Gerber said, "I mean, four players get fouled up at the same time — very unusual. We'll all be relieved that you agreed."
They approached the Stone Gargoyle on the second floor.
"Altoids!" Harry exclaimed. It came to life, and they stepped on.
"Bed sign when you know the password to the Headmaster's office," Coach Gerber said.
"It's useful," Harry replied.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled from an armchair near the fireplace, as he sipped some tea. Pinned up over the fireplace, across the painting of Dippet, was the blue and white flag of Puddlemere United.
"Practice already?" Professor Dumbledore said, "My, how time flies. Good luck, mind that you could use good publicity about now."
"We plan to delay revealing your true identities as long as possible," Coach Gerber said to Harry and Ron.
"That'll keep the stadium standing," Harry said, sarcastically.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes trained themselves onto Harry.
"Do not avoid living for what the Death Eaters may do," Professor Dumbledore said.
"This way," Coach Gerber said as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. Harry and Ron followed into the fireplace. "Puddlemere United!"
Together, they spun as they traveled. They stepped out of the fireplace. Ron admired the trophies on the shelves, the plaques covered walls of the modest wood paneled room.
"Welcome to the club room," Gerber said, "Come, the others are already out on the Pitch."
Harry and Ron followed Coach Gerber across the room, turned a sharp left, and went down the stairs.
"Where's the match going to be?" Ron asked.
"Here," Coach Gerber said, "And we need to fit you up with Robes, this way."
Harry's and Ron's feet went across the smooth concrete at the bottom of the stairs, cut across the long corridor, to a smaller hallway, and took the first door on the left. A small room, with hangars and robes; a white one with blue accent had Bell emblazoned on the back.
"Yes?" asked a lady, with blue and white hair, who was sitting at a table as she worked out a pattern.
"Madam Fletcher," Coach Gerber said, "These two will need robes for the match, and practice gear."
Madam Fletcher, with a flick of her oak wand, sent a tape measure over to Harry, where it proceeded to take measurements.
"I will need their names and numbers," Madam Fletcher said.
"You'll have them," Coach Gerber replied.
"Practice gear?" Madam Fletcher asked, "Yes, I think I've got some, may be a bit loose."
"They'll manage," Coach Gerber said.
Madam Fletcher went to a cupboard, pulled out some solid blue sweats with white Puddlemere United stenciled on the side; she handed them over.
"You're responsible for these," Madam Fletcher said.
"Understood," Harry replied.
Ron nodded.
"Welcome to the team," Madam Fletcher said.
"Let me show you the locker room," Coach Gerber said.
After a quick change, Harry and Ron walked forward, through the staging area, between double doors, onto the Pitch carrying Firebolts in their hands. Both paused, gazed for a moment, midway between the goal posts of a huge stadium that went up many hundreds of feet. Rows upon rows of seating scaled upward just outside of the pitch to the roof a thousand feet above. Other players were already in the air in matching blue sweats.
"So those are the anti–jinx wards," Ron said, pointed to the shimmering blue haze between them and the seats.
"Didn't have it at the World Cup," Harry said.
"Yes they did," Ron said, "Always do in professional matches. Blimey, thousands of witches and wizards; do you expect them all to check their wands? It'd be a nightmare."
"Welcome to professional Quidditch," Coach Gerber said as he stepped up next to the aw inspired sixteen year old teenagers. "I'm calling them down."
"Hold on for just a moment," Ron said, his eyes on the pair of red haired Beaters, Fred and George. Ron glanced at Harry, the smile exchanged.
Harry and Ron mounted their brooms, shoved upward, and flew toward George and Fred. Both twins had bats in their hands, beating a half dozen Bludgers back and forth. Harry accelerated upward, squeezed between converging Bludgers, banked backward, and barreled around the twins. Ron came up a bit more gracefully.
"Hey—!" Fred shouted.
"You could—" George shouted.
"Enjoying the weather?" Harry asked.
Fred and George turned to face Ron and Harry. Similarly flat chested, their eyes roved to interrogate.
"Blimey!" Fred exclaimed.
"Gerber wanted a team meeting," Ron said, pointing.
"You're not—" George started.
"Yes we are," Harry said, his grin wide, as he drifted downward.
Fred, Ron, George, and Harry flew back down to the pitch, to Coach Gerber, along with another eight players.
"Truly, we're not that desperate," George said.
"Unfortunately, we are," Coach Gerber said, "League rules have stiff penalties when it comes to even the appearance of doping; not only are you ineligible to play, the team is not permitted to substitute into your position. And to forfeit exacts a worse punishment on the team than spectacularly losing the game."
"No offense," said Craig Nesper, the reserve Chaser, "Two inexperienced sixteen year–olds do not seem like the best idea."
"Coach Meyers tried everything and everyone else," Coach Gerber said, "Of all the names tried, only these two were able to be switched onto the roster into the roles of Keeper and Seeker. It's not like they're utterly inexperienced, they have played on their house teams at Hogwarts, and we liked the talent we saw in them on Halloween; they have the potential to be great players."
"Congratulations," said Craig Nesper, dryly.
"They are on the team for Saturday's match," Coach Gerber said, "But, do not go easy on them. Practice them hard, don't let up, and make certain they know what to expect from professional Quidditch."
…
Up in the coach's office, just under the top box, Head Coach Darrell Meyers watched the field, the players gathered around Assistant Coach Gerber; the other assistant coach, Leroy Kline entered the office.
"This had better work out," Coach Meyers said, "We're taking a big risk."
"We were out of other options, aren't we?" Coach Kline asked.
"Yes and I hope it works out," Coach Meyers said, "Because we can only work with the hand that was dealt to us."
Coach Meyers turned around, eyes on Coach Kline.
"Look," Coach Meyers continued, "This whole thing does not add up, the vacancies—something more is going on."
"Benjamin reexamined his results," Coach Kline said, "While the Golan's Fast Flying Potion was definitely present, it was poisoned. So, if hadn't have been discovered, those vacancies would have been permanent."
"Damn!" Coach Meyers exclaimed.
Two hours later after practice had finished, Harry and Ron stepped out of the fireplace into the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk, swiftly glanced at them.
"Might I inquire as to why you are not in Gryffindor Tower?" asked Professor Snape, who was standing next to one of the sets of oak shelves, book in hand.
"It's not past curfew," Harry snapped.
"Relax Severus," Professor Dumbledore said, "I requested they attend to an errand requiring the use of the Floo Network."
Harry and Ron made for the heavy door; they both left the office. Ron went first down the stairs.
"Why the fuss with Snape?" Harry asked.
"Floo Network can be tracked," Ron said, "Puddlemere United to here isn't suspicious, but Puddlemere United to say, Gia—"
"Got it," Harry said.
They stepped out onto the second floor corridor, walked. They entered the Gryffindor Common Room.
"You!" came the angry voice, coming in from behind Harry and Ron. Red hair, Ginny stopped in front of Ron, glared. "You totally skipped practice!"
"Did not," Ron said.
"You weren't there," Ginny said, "We had to make it up!"
"That's what he does all the time," Harry stated.
"Well, what is your excuse?" Ginny asked.
"Sorry, this was urgent," Ron said, "It's over, don't talk about it, later!"
Harry and Ron went up the stairs, to the sixth years boys' dormitory, and entered. They grabbed their bookbags. Harry took out his wand, activated his Portkey, and Ron held on.
"Have to admit, Hermione's fireplace would've been faster," Harry said, "Or, our Portkeys and do it direct."
"Faster but not wiser," Ron said, "On Saturday, that whole stadium will see us, they'll check the records, and you want them to see us traveling between Hogwarts and the stadium; anything else, and it'll raise suspicions."
"Plenty of wizards use Portkeys, and apparate—" Harry said.
"We're underage, and these Portkeys are illegal because they're unregistered," Ron said.
"You're sounding like Hermione," Harry said.
"I don't mind having one," Ron said, "We just don't want to get caught."
Ron and Harry kicked off their shoes as they landed in Gia's bedroom and heard the giggling from downstairs. Ron and Harry glanced at each other, walked as softly as they could with sock covered feet against the carpet. Feet to the edges avoided the customary creaks as they descended the stairs.
"Shh!" Harry whispered to Snuffles, laying in front of the fireplace in the living room.
Snuffles watched Harry sneak across the room, turn toward the dining room.
"So you find theatre the most interesting class?" Hermione asked.
"Stressful," Gia said, "You have to think on your feet, sometimes make up a story on the spot, in front of people. Sure, you get used to it, a bit, still causes me to get nervous."
Harry and Ron turned to the open door of the study; Gia and Hermione sitting on the sofa, backs to the door.
"What's happening?" Hermione asked. Harry sensed her suspicion, decided to pounce.
In unison, Harry and Ron moved over the top of the sofa, their hands went down the girls' shirts, beneath the knickers, onto the mounds beneath. Smiles on their faces, they came down into the view of both girl's eyes, upside down.
A backfire from outside, they heard the screech of brakes. Hermione's brown eyes, though, flashed at Ron.
"What?" Ron asked as he stood back up.
"Did I give you permission?" Hermione asked.
"I thought—" Ron started, "It's not like it was sex."
"Every time requires it," Hermione snapped.
Screaming and wailing could be heard. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Gia left the study, slipped back into the living room as the door opened. Andy had tear streaks across the heavy makeup on her face, the strap on her skimpy dress held by Kristen Osborn escorting her in. A glint from the metal on Kristen's uniform was obscured as Richard and Kurt slipped around, and came in.
"Andrea Osborn," Kristen said, "You are grounded until further notice."
"We should leave," Gia whispered to Harry.
"Stay," Kristen said to Gia, "See what your adopted sister is like."
"Mum! Mum!…" Andy collapsed to the floor; she pounded her fists into the carpet and wailed.
"Any allowance is forfeit until the fine is paid," Kristen said.
Richard escorted Gia and Harry into the dining room, closed the door, which did nothing to muffle the crying from the other side.
"Apparently, she was doing good charging for sex and she had some success," Richard said, "But, she got caught up by the vice, for soliciting prostitution. Mum's understandably furious."
"I WANT OUT OF THIS FAMILY!" Andy screamed loudly. Stomping, shattering, and breaking noise ascended the stairs; a door slammed and glass shattered.
"We were planning on eating out anyways," Harry lied, figured it was a good saving grace.
"Mind if I come?" Richard asked.
"YOU ARE REPAIRING THIS!" Kristen yelled.
Harry, Gia, and Richard walked through the kitchen, returned to the living room through the other door. Harry paused at the sight, of the stairs with broken steps, holes punched through the drywall, the splintered handrail, and the shattered stairwell light.
"I HATE YOU!" Andy screamed from upstairs.
"I'd come if I could," Kurt whispered at the teenagers headed for the door.
Richard moved through the door first, Kristen's eyes didn't even flinch toward him, instead, her eyes were focused upward. However, Kurt glanced at her, seemingly to stifle any protest on Richard's movement. Harry and Gia were steps behind, while Ron and Hermione followed, into the cold night air and they shivered. Snuffles's collar jingled as he left the house.
"DO NOT JUMP!" Kristen yelled.
"And I thought your temper was bad," Ron muttered to Harry.
Harry turned around, where he saw it. Andy stood on the bench of her bay window, the glass already smashed with shards jutting out of the frame. Kristen's spotlight showed Andy's curves in the shadows, those curves not hidden by the tight skirt nor blouse.
Snuffles darted past Harry and went into the house.
"YOU NEVER CARE!" Andy yelled.
Harry slowly inched backward toward the sidewalk.
"I WANT OUT OF THIS FAMILY!" Andy shouted.
Harry gripped the hilt of his wand.
"In front of Muggles?" Hermione whispered.
"STEP BACK!" Kristen yelled.
Snuffles crept up behind Andy and placed his nose underneath Andy's legs.
"MAKE ME!" Andy lunged forward.
A quick flick of Harry's wrist, Andy's momentum reversed and she flew backward into the room. Harry saw Snuffles drop down, beneath and below Andy. Harry secured his wand, glanced about the shadows. A police cruiser with flashing blue lights pulled up. Out of the cruiser came a male constable whose eyes stared straight at Harry.
"What's ha—" the officer started.
"Over here!" Kristen ordered.
"Richard!" Kurt bellowed.
"Sorry," Richard said to Harry.
Richard returned to the house.
Harry, Ron, Gia, and Hermione left only to return a couple hours later. They entered 26 Oak Street. Planks from the side fence covered the broken steps, trash bags covered the holes of the drywall, and a drop light was taped up for the stairwell light. Gingerly, they climbed the stairs to Gia's bedroom. Richard, in blue and white plaid boxers, came in and closed the door.
"Like the remodeling?" Richard leaned against the white plaster.
Harry snorted as he pulled his socks off.
"Mum's puzzled about why Ant fell backward—" Richard said.
"Um," Harry said, "She should be grateful that Andy did fall backward instead of forward."
Richard studied Gia's brassiere.
"I figured as much," Richard said, "And she peed her bed—so that's now ruined."
"Sometimes I am glad to be an only child," Hermione said.
"Can you take her?" Richard said, "Your parents might do her better."
"I'm not sharing," Hermione stated.
"Don't blame you," Richard said.
Hermione first woke early, very early, Thursday morning, the waning moon shone above, as she felt the warm running sensation across her skin; their bed covers were already tossed aside. She was laying down, Ron to her right, while Harry was on his side against her left. Harry was peeing as he muttered.
"No…" Harry muttered, "Not him … me instead …"
Hermione heard it, caught a glimpse, as Gia kept her light snores going as she rolled over onto her side. Gia's front pressed against Harry's backside. Gia's right arm reached around and held Harry tight on the stomach. Harry's mutterings stopped immediately, though his wetting took another moment.
Hermione took a few minutes to get herself to fall back to sleep as Hedwig's wings flapped as she returned to her perch, mouse under her beak.
Hermione woke to a shout just before six–thirty from the other room. She untangled herself from Gia and Ron, slithered out of the bed, and bolted out the door without getting dressed. Kristen stood there in her police uniform, at the threshold of Andy's bedroom; all of the green painted drywall had been ripped off, the planking over the window was fragmented, excrement was splattered about, and piles of lumber where where the furniture used to be.
"Have you seen her?" Kristen asked Hermione.
"Not since last night," Hermione said.
"She—" Kristen handed a note to Hermione.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
I HAVE DIVORCED THIS FAMILY! GOOD RIDDANCE!
Andy
Hermione sighed.
"Lets go downstairs," Ron said, a step behind Hermione. He too, like Hermione, hadn't dressed.
Ron offered his elbow, Kristen held it, and they went down the steps. They went into the kitchen. Ron filled the hot pot with water. Hermione flicked it on.
"Let's just calm down," Hermione said.
"My baby's missing!" Kristen said.
Hermione felt a bit sympathetic, for a woman who's normally the bedrock, the maternal instinct having kicked in.
"Here." Ron grabbed the biscuit platter and held it up.
"Ta." Kristen grabbed one.
"Who was she currently dating?" Hermione asked.
Ring! Ring!
Kristen grabbed the phone, answered as the hot pot came to a boil.
"Hello? … No, she's not here. … What? … He's missing? … Andrea is too. … Yes, I'll be at the station shortly. … Thanks."
"Who?" Hermione asked.
Hermione put in the tea bag, poured in the hot water.
"Henry Weber," Kristen said.
Kristen returned Hermione's glance.
"Didn't she mention him last week?" Hermione asked.
Kristen's muscles relaxed and her breathing settled down as she sipped the tea. Her eyes drifted to Ron, leaning back against the sink, starkers. Kristen glanced at Hermione.
"You're—" Kristen said.
"You screamed," Ron said, "Secrecy of my todger seemed unimportant."
"And what would your mother—?" Kristen asked, her eyes darted between the two starker teenagers.
"She's dead," Ron said.
Kristen sipped the tea. "You do her credit," Kristen said, "Now excuse me, I do need to get to work."
Kristen put on her constable hat, left the kitchen and the house. They heard shower started upstairs.
"Can you believe we just—" Ron's eyes drifted down Hermione, his arousal showed, "But we could—"
Hermione pushed herself up, sat on the counter.
"Harry had another nightmare," Hermione said.
"Harry's been having them for ages," Ron replied.
"Gia's good," Hermione said.
Ron shrugged, moved, and sat on the counter next to her.
"I am not certain that they are all nightmares," Ron said, "He's muttered in his sleep for ages. Though, I have to admit the pissing is more recent. You're right, Gia seems to soothe him in her sleep."
"We should talk to Professor Dumbledore," she said.
"Really?" Ron stammered, "And just where do you think that will land us? Harry has entrusted us, as friends, to keep this privy and I strongly suggest you respect that. For all you know, you could start doing the same, with whatever the bloody hell is going on at school."
"Well…" Hermione's voice drifted as her eyes surveyed his arousal.
Footsteps accompanied the motions of the sliding glass door in the dining room.
"Bold," Harry said as he entered the kitchen, eyes on Ron and Hermione tangled together.
Ron and Hermione tumbled, stumbled.
"Mum'd have a fit," Richard said.
Hermione blushed
"We—it was appropriate," Ron said, nonchalantly.
"Besides," Hermione said to Richard, "Your Mum's preoccupied."
Richard raised his eyebrows. Harry, though, made for the door for the living room. Richard followed. Ron and Hermione walked.
…
Harry, Ron, and Hermione landed in the dormitory five minutes before eight. A tea cozy pushed against Harry as the House Elf hugged him.
"Harry Potter!" Dobby said, "Harry Potter travels like House–Elf. Dobby is good House–Elf."
"Nice to see you too," Harry said.
With a crack, Dobby disappeared. Ron glanced at Harry leaning over the trunk, could predict the next words. Ron sat down at the table, dished out the cauldron cakes and poured syrup over them and the sausages.
"Potions is in a half hour!" Hermione quipped as her eyes glanced at the parchment on Harry's desk.
"Shh!" Harry said.
Hermione grabbed The Daily Prophet from the owl as she sat to Ron's right. She dished out some sliced peaches into her bowl, as several owls dropped letters onto the table.
"You need to eat," Hermione said.
"Have to finish," Harry said, "Like you said, thirty minutes."
Ron watched her chest as she slid the peaches to the side, put the paper down onto the table. Ron's eyes traced the contours before they drifted downward when he saw the headline, grabbed the paper. His eyes concentrated as he read, not paying attention to Harry's footsteps coming up behind him.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Thursday, 7 November, 1996
The Daily Prophet
Arthur Weasley Apprehended
Arthur Weasley, the former head for the dissolved Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was arrested after failing to submit himself to punishment on insurance fraud Weasley, after having neglected the upkeep of his family home for decades, filed a claim with Gringotts against the standard Ministry personnel benefits insurance policy after his family home imploded last summer. Gringotts and the Ministry take a dim view on fraud and prosecuted this clear cut case to the fullest extent. Arthur Weasley is to spend the next ten years in Azkaban on account of his actions. We all feel safer with this fugitive from justice being locked up.
"W–What?!" Ron stammered.
Harry shifted his weight as he now stood behind Ron.
"Here," Hermione said as she handed over the letters addressed to Ron.
Ron ripped open the one with the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes logo on it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron,
In case you haven't read, Dad was arrested. Early this morning, Fallerschain and bunch of Magical Law Enforcement stormed the shop. Dad relented after our esteemed Minister threatened to take every Weasley in as conspirators. Sir Minister claimed the supposed fraud was the final straw on a career of cooking the books in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
Are you aware of any trial?
Your partner in Mischief,
George.
P.S. We've got Edward.
P.P.S This parchment should self–destruct in fifteen minutes, let us know if it works.
"That's…that's…" Harry said as he rubbed his scar. "That Minister's playing right into his hand!"
Ron glanced upward at the scar above those bottle green eyes, wondered if there was more, but was interrupted as Hermione spoke.
"He may be." Hermione laid open the first letter to the editor. "But so is everybody else."
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Dear Editor,
Having seen the pictures of the dilapidated pig sty, I support of the Minister's mission to hold Ministry officials accountable for their actions.
Adyna Gliston
"BOLLOCKS!" Ron shouted.
Ron recognized Percy's seal on the fancy envelope, he threw it across the floor.
"It'll burn nicely later," Ron stated.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
Ron caught the glance, at the envelope, that seemed offended as it hovered up, and opened itself. Percy's voice filled the air.
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Ron,
Undoubtedly, George or Fred have already written to you about Dad's arrest, maybe they made up some excuse, or other bull faced lie; Dad did this to himself. I never wanted to upset Mum, but the Burrow was a pig sty; Dad took the same care about everything else and you know where Mum is now. I hope he rots in Azkaban, it'd be an improvement.
Now, your life needs some changes too, unless you want to join Dad. First, I suggest you terminate your relations with Harry Potter, it was a nice idea but read the recent papers. Second, I recommend finding a nice pure–blood witch for a wife; Hermione, if you insist on keeping her, can be a servant or a mistress; this would repair your reputation in the eyes of the Ministry. Third, work on your Quidditch skills, good Quidditch players usually have their faults forgiven, which you need a lot of; I understand you're getting involved with the Puddlemere United, keep that up, though the Wimbourne Wasps would be a better team. Finally, that Order of Merlin is a good start, but that was awarded under a previous Minister so it will carry little weight with the respectable Fallerschain. Yes, I have forgiven him, I understood the need to clear out Dad's mess in hurry and I have been promised another position.
Percy
P.S. With Dad in Azkaban, I'm going to assume custody of you and Ginny as soon as I do the paperwork; I know you're looking forward to a responsible parental figure.
"Have any Howler paper?" Ron asked Hermione.
"I don't usually have need for it," Hermione said, nonchalantly.
Hoot!
A brown owl swooped in, dropped another letter for Ron.
"You're popular," Harry said.
"A small family," Ron said, "That's what I want."
Ron opened the letter.
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Ron,
Blimey! I'm in Hogsmeade and on my way.
Charlie
"Short," Ron said.
"And here." Charlie entered the dormitory. "Come on down."
"Sure," Ron said as he stood up and grabbed Percy's letter.
Harry and Hermione followed, they went down the stairs into the otherwise empty Gryffindor Common Room. Ron sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, curled Percy's fancy parchment in his hands. Harry leaned back against a pillar of stone. Hermione stood with her arms crossed. Charlie studied the three for a moment.
Ring!
"We're LATE for class!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Excused," Charlie said, "I spoke with Professor Dumbledore, so unless you're interested in Potions…"
"I suppose we can make the sacrifice," Harry said as his eyes lit up.
"Potions is just as important," Hermione stated.
"Family's more important," Ron said, more interested in breaking the tie to avoid the class, "Suppose you got George's letter?"
"Fred, did yours self–destruct?" Charlie asked.
"Percy's worse," Ron said, handing over the letter.
Charlie read it.
"I'd expect this from him," Charlie said, "But he's correct."
"You're siding with him?" Ron demanded.
"To be honest, I'm fed up with what I've been reading about you," Charlie said, "Percy's got the drift along with some horrible suggestions. Your reputation is in shambles and that is being shoveled onto the rest of us. Now Quidditch does help, so nurturing this relationship with Puddlemere United is a good idea. Custody does need to be solved—"
"Emancipation," Harry said, "Ron at least."
"Let us keep the options open," Charlie said, "Now, what the bloody hell has been going on around here?"
"Impostors, among other things." Harry leaned forward. "They are a part of a campaign to frame and discredit us, and it is working. Every time I turn around or read The Daily Prophet, I find myself accused of some malady or another, supposed evidence has been planted, and these impostors are a part of that plan. Percy was right, Ron and you all are getting trapped in my mess, maybe you should—"
"Oh no you don't!" Ron said, as he pointed at Harry, "Don't blame yourself—Mum wouldn't hear of it! "
"I presume you actually witnessed these impostors," Charlie said, "Doesn't anybody believe—"
"They're believing just what these schemers want them to believe," Harry said, "They read The Daily Prophet and believe I'm a conniving and dangerous out of control teenager. Even the Minister believes it."
"And proof," Hermione said, "Since when did the Wizarding world listen to proof?"
"They don't all believe in death certificates either." Charlie pulled out a copy of that week's Quibbler.
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Weasleys to Divorce
Mrs. Molly Weasley, formerly Molly Prewett, has petitioned for divorce after discovering several raunchy photographs of her husband, Mr. Arthur Weasley, with Amelia Bones at previous Ministry holiday parties. Mrs. Weasley was understandably irate after uncovering the photographs and unexplained pink lipstick stains on her husband's dress robes.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Slanderous—"
"Not really," Charlie said, "A bit late on the story. Dad did have several affairs at the Ministry. After finding out about her pregnancy with Edward, Mum dropped the petition." Charlie glanced at the bulletin board, with dangling dolls that were hung from nooses. "What the—?"
"Another Weasley Wizarding Wheezes product," Ron said.
Charlie studied the likeness of the effigies of Harry and Ron.
"Pretty good likeness," Hermione said, "Don't you agree?"
"Suppose Fred and George would be upset if your affairs were settled," Charlie said.
"I'd rather be dealing with an upset Fred and George than this mess," Harry said, "We've got the morning, lets play with the dragons."
"Dragons?" Charlie asked.
"Hagrid managed it," Ron said.
"As a class project," Hermione said, "Hagrid got us dragon eggs to hatch, though they all go back to the reservation at the end of the month."
"I'm impressed," Charlie said.
Harry went for the portrait hole. They left Gryffindor Tower.