In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 47: Slytherin
Hermione read The Daily Prophet as they went down the steps Tuesday morning.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Tuesday, 10 December 1996
First Day a Resounding Success
Yesterday, the Harry Potter Guidance Committee (HPGC) implemented new choices for Harry Potter, ones that will guide him on a careful path to better well being and a stronger sense of morality. Already, ensuring he break up from his pathetic muggle ex–girlfriend has been a resounding success as Harry Potter was smiling by the end of the day.
"Why'd he be smiling?" Hermione asked.
"Dunno," Ron said as they entered the Great Hall.
Ron glanced over at the Slytherin Table, where Harry was boxed in between both the Aurors, across from Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle flanked Malfoy. Ron grabbed the sausage plate as he sat down at the Gryffindor Table, kept an eye on Harry. Ron pulled out a cordless extensible ear, an aim of his wand, and the other end shot over, landed on Harry's sleeve. Harry palmed it and placed it beneath the cap on his head.
"Here you go Potter," Langdon said as he shoveled food onto Harry's plate.
"This isn't haggis," Harry complained.
"What?" Malfoy asked.
"Never had it," Harry said, "But heard it was Salazar Slytherin's favorite dish—didn't you know that?"
Ron snorted.
"Extra onions if he could get it," Harry continued, "Now, make sure you use blood taken from a ewe under a full moon, and you'd have a true delight."
Goyle grabbed Harry's plate, ate.
"You're in Slytherin house," Harry said to Malfoy, "They didn't teach you this?"
"Shut up," Malfoy said.
"Avoid the lutefisk though," Harry said.
"Silenco!" Walmer said, wand aimed.
Harry's bottle greens came to Ron's, and they chanted.
"Blood on haggis?" Ron thought, "Sounds disgusting."
"About right," Harry replied, "Though, haggis was Slytherin's favorite dish, ask Hermione."
"Hermione," Ron said, "What was Salazar Slytherin's favorite dish?"
"How should I know?" Hermione said, "That stuff's not exactly written down. Shepherd pie?"
"I showed you my list, didn't I?" Harry inquired.
"Play dead," Ron thought, "Go missing on the train, get you declared dead."
"What?!" Harry retorted.
"Worked for Wormtail," Ron replied.
Harry snorted.
"You agree that those blokes are filthy pigs," Malfoy said while pointing at the Gryffindor table.
"Dumbledore would find you tutors," Ron said, "Teach you what you needed to—"
"This plan does not bode well," came a third thought.
"What? Who?" Ron quipped, "Was that you–know–who?"
"An advisor," Harry said, "It's the—sorting hat."
"Nonsense," Ron retorted, "Sorting hat was destroyed."
"A thinking hat does not survive a millennium without having a trick or two in the hat," the hat replied.
"Um..yeah, I switched them at the last minute," Harry responded, "The Minister destroyed my cap, though he and everybody else thinks otherwise—and that's to remain."
"So Dumbledore doesn't know?" Ron inquired.
"Hat's scared," Harry said.
"A thinking cap is never frightened," the Sorting Hat retorted, "My self–preservation is essential to—"
"It's scared," Ron implied as he grinned.
Owls fluttered in, a letter dropped into Harry's hands.
"You never get mail," Ron thought.
"I know," Harry replied, "Get this, they forged a breakup note, sent it to Gia yesterday morning. My orders forbid her as a girlfriend, I complied."
"In a shrewd and clever way," the hat chipped in.
"Pathetic Potter's broken heart?" Malfoy sneered as he grabbed the letter. "You cried all night." Malfoy read the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry Potter,
A nasty note that becomes true. Girlfriend, you no longer have, Boyfriend, you no longer are.
Gia Prescott
"Putting up a brave face?" Malfoy said, "Never mind, many more suitable for you all around us."
"You broke up?" Ron inquired.
"Fast witted you are," Harry noted, "Malfoy's pleased at this."
"So," Ron continued, "It's over?"
"Hell no," Harry thought.
"Blimey!" Ron thought, "She accepted a rain check?"
"Got some suggestions for you," Malfoy said to Harry, "Come."
"Upped the ante," Harry thought, "I proposed—we're engaged!"
"Be there tonight," Ron thought, "Celebrate."
"Don't tell Hermione!" Harry replied, "Bye!"
Ron's hand dropped, the pumpkin juice from his cup spilled, as Langdon and Walmer shoved Harry along the Slytherin table.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "Ron!"
Ron grabbed a sausage, leaned back as Hermione tried to contain the spill.
"What have they done?" Ron asked.
"Move!" Hermione ordered.
Ron moved back.
"You're just sitting there!" Hermione said, "After you spilled—"
"Sorry," Ron said, "Hadn't been paying attention."
"That's you alright," Hermione said, "Don't have time for you to finish because we've now got class."
Ron got up, they walked out of the nearly empty Great Hall.
A slim dark man entered the office, the one that Kristen was in, bent over her desk.
"You didn't go home, did you?" he asked.
"Frank," Kristen said, her fingers on the keyboard to a computer, Harry's orders next to it, "I don't get this—this looks official." Kristen handed Frank the note.
"A little absurd—parole conditions?" Frank said, "You're worried."
"You get that knack, to read a person," Kristen said, "As Gia said, Harry seems reasonable, caring, but she got this—" she handed over the note, "He claimed it was forged, and this guidance committee obviously took credit, if these are genuine."
"A kid regretted his mistake, covered it up with this," Frank said, "Wouldn't be the first time."
"This Umbridge is a real person," Kristen said, "You're the one who showed me how to do searches on this. So, while I couldn't find a phone number, I did a deed search, and she does exist. He was a bit more colorful in his description of her, this Umbridge person."
"Did you check for ASBOs?" Frank asked.
"It didn't even tell me it couldn't find it," Kristen asked, "Like Kurt not finding his sedatives this morning."
Knock! Knock!
A young lady, in a rookie uniform, came to the door.
"Excuse me Chief," the lady said, "There's a Doris Crockford from the home office to see you."
"What is going on with my godson?" Sirius asked in Professor Lupin's office in Hogwarts.
"His guidance committee arrived yesterday," Professor Lupin said, "He's broken up with his girlfriend."
"None of his possessions have left that house," Sirius said, "Even his owl remains."
"He's being sequestered in Slytherin," Professor Lupin said, "Suppose we can have Ron and Hermione help relocate Harry's possessions?"
A chime.
"Sorry, duty calls," Professor Lupin said.
Professor Lupin left his office, went down the steps, past the Stone Gargoyle, and entered the Headmaster's office.
"Another witness?" asked Professor Snape.
"Better than culprit," Professor Lupin said.
Professor McGonagall entered.
"Thank you," Professor Dumbledore said, "Though it's need is eight months away, we do need to start considering a replacement for the Sorting Hat. Creation of a new hat is a possibility should Fawkes consent."
"But it would not be the same as the old," Professor Lupin said, "Maybe go to the ways the founders did it—interviews?"
"Perhaps—" Professor McGonagall said.
"There you are," said Minister Victor Fallerschain as he entered, his sky blue robes settled down as he stopped, "I understand you failed to act yesterday afternoon."
"Pardon?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
"A mudfight in…Herbology, was it?" the Minister asked.
"This is news to me," said Professor Dumbledore, "I cannot be expected to act if nobody tells me there's been a problem. Was there an incident yesterday?"
"No," said Professor Snape.
"You're covering up!" the Minister said.
"It's easier to keep a closer watch on Potter if he remains in Slytherin," said Professor Snape, "According to this morning's article, it's clearly better to keep him in residence of the Slytherin house. Any suspension would deviate from Potter's rehabilitation that we all seem to desire. Therefore, no incident occurred."
"Should we consult with Delores Umbridge?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"You're all in on it," the Minister exclaimed.
"You destroyed a treasure of Hogwarts yesterday," Professor Dumbledore said as he grabbed a quill, "Reparations are in order."
"If you were as concerned about Potter's actions as you are about some silly hat," the Minister said, "None of this would've been necessary!"
"Tonight?" Ron thought across the Great Hall.
"Late," Harry replied, "Give em the slip."
"Move Potter," Walmer said.
Harry got up, left an uneaten plate of food, followed Langdon and Walmer.
"You're awfully slow eater," Hermione said to Ron.
"Stress," Ron said as his stomach growled, "Lets go."
Hermione and Ron got up, left the Great Hall. Up the stairs, they went into the dormitory, and walked over to the wardrobe. Ron changed into muggle clothes. Hermione did the same.
"Ready?" Ron asked, a red Weasley jumper in his hands, as he activated the Portkey.
Hermione held on, they landed in her bedroom in Noigate.
"You know," Hermione said, "Don't think we're supposed to—I mean, we've got no business—"
"Dumbledore would've confiscated our Portkeys if that were true," Ron said, "No, we've got to talk to Harry."
Hermione grabbed a pink jumper before Ron led the way out of her bedroom.
"He's now a Slytherin," Hermione said.
Chill came across Ron as they left the house, the wind beneath the cloudy dark evening sky zapped the heat away. He pulled his Weasley jumper over his head, brought it down.
"His jailers don't know about his Portkey," Ron said, "Think he'd really stay put at Hogwarts?"
"He broke up on that committee's orders," Hermione said as they walked along, "Totally not fair."
"As the trophy of Malfoy, think they'd let him date her?" Ron said, "Even we're cut off and we're not Muggles."
"He better not cooperate—" Hermione started.
"He'll fight," Ron said, "Let's rescue him."
"You're sure he'll be there?" Hermione asked.
"No," Ron said, "Still, better idea?"
Hermione shook her head.
"What do you think he's done?" Hermione asked.
"Ask him later," Ron said.
…
Hermione led the way up the stairs of 26 Oak St, to Gia's bedroom, where she was on the bed, sitting cross–legged with a travel magazine between her legs.
"Hi there," Gia said.
"Heard you two broke up," Hermione said, "Thousand rumors couldn't be wrong, could they?"
"A note was given to me, and an honest response was had," Gia said.
"So, Harry did write?" Hermione asked.
"Your—I mean wizards, witches, they claim to be superior," Gia said, "Yet, how can they be such arses and arrogant to think this is remotely right?"
"Harry didn't write," Ron said to Hermione, "But she did."
"Breakup was real?" Hermione asked.
"To make that stupid committee happy, yes," Gia said, "But he'll make up for it."
"How?" Hermione asked.
"I'll find a way," Harry said, standing there in Slytherin pajamas, his wallet fell out of his hands onto the floor, "So, Gia's no longer my girlfriend."
"Yet, you're here," Hermione said.
"Shh!" Harry said, "Don't tell anybody I showed up, not even Dumbledore—don't want him to have to hold any secrets, nor tell the superiorly dimwitted. Ron?"
"Mind if we talked?" Ron asked.
"Came a long way if you didn't," Harry said, "Especially with what that committee—"
"Come," Ron said.
"I wanted—" Hermione protested.
"Later," Ron said as Harry grabbed his wallet.
Hermione watched Harry and Ron leave the bedroom.
"They'll be back—guessing they wanted to talk boy stuff," Gia said, "Yesterday was the roughest day in my life, and I thought Dad's death was bad."
Hermione sat on the bed, her legs crossed, as she removed her pink jumper.
"He really did breakup?" Hermione asked.
"Yep," Gia said, "He'll be back—I can count on that."
Hermione snorted.
"Though, do gotta warn you," Gia said, "If you're trying to keep Kristen in the dark about magic, try harder. Having Harry showing up and claiming to have locked the shower door with Aurors about to barge in—not going to keep her away."
"That's…" Hermione said, "He seemed rather content getting attacked by mud yesterday."
Hoot!
Gia got up, went over, gave a owl treat to Hedwig.
"He'll put up with dirt to have me," Gia said as she stroked feathers, "Isn't that saying something?"
Hedwig hopped onto Gia's arm, Gia came back to sit on the bed.
"She's like Harry in many ways," Gia said, "She gets to know you, and it's a great bond."
Hoot!
Hermione stroked several of Hedwig's feathers.
"And gets others to fantasize over them," Hermione said.
"That too," Gia replied.
"Ron's infuriating at times," Hermione said, "Feels like he's…I was with him all day, what did Ron pick up that I didn't?"
Hedwig flew back to her perch, preened some feathers.
"You're book smart, clever," Gia said, , "He…he's boy smart, he's got a large family, and learned to read Harry."
"I'm their friend," Hermione said.
"And they won't let you forget it either," Gia said.
Harry and Ron left the back dining room door of 26 Oak St, into the darkness of the night.
"No pockets," Harry said, his hands swept his pajamas beneath the Slytherin embroidered top.
"Got one," Ron said as he grabbed Harry's wand and Portkey, added them to the front pocket of the Weasley jumper. "Better?"
They took the footpath and started to wander.
"Blimey!" Harry exclaimed as he kicked a fence post before hopping to hold his bare foot, "What a gang of Bloody Arses!"
"Need a drink?" Ron asked.
"Do you need to even ask—tomorrow's school!" Harry said, "Won't Hermione—?"
"Sleeping with Slytherin," Ron said, "Right?"
Ron stared at Harry's bottle greens, the thought infectious.
"Even slipped Kurt's sedatives into Malfoy's—nevermind," Harry said, "Bloody brilliant."
"See, good idea," Ron said.
"Here?" Harry asked as they rounded the corner toward the Destitute Angel. Ron shrugged, and Harry opened the door beneath the small weeping angel above. They entered the pub. Ron went up, pulled out his wallet, laid down a twenty pound note.
"Two pints," Ron said, "Food in a little bit."
Ron grabbed the two mugs, brought them over to Harry at the table, sat.
"Bloody brilliant with that barmy batch of arses," Harry said, "I mean, I can't lie to Dumbledore, nor can I tell him—either one would put him into a tighter bind than I've already put him into. Nor can I elope and marry—that'd put me in real trouble with Hogwarts."
"Like you're not already in trouble?" Ron asked.
"Rules have already been stretched for me," Harry said, "Not putting another one onto the old man, he's got enough shit to deal with. Me, I'm a bloody dolt!"
"You're the one being brilliant," Ron said, "You wanted to keep her, so you found a way around those bloody orders. Drink up."
Ron hadn't yet sipped his, watched as Harry began to drink his lager with foam on top.
"You—don't spread it around," Harry said, "I don't want that hag to revise her order, force me to marry against Hogwarts rules."
"Think Hermione's figured it out—maybe," Ron said, "Me…we're out here celebrating, mate."
"They gave me a list of approved dates," Harry said as he pulled out a slip of parchment from his sleeve, "Pansy Parkinson tops the list…covers most of the purebloods, though Malfoy crossed out Ginny."
"If you were interested, I would've supported it," Ron said.
"Ginny—nice and all," Harry said, "But she'd be in love with my name, not me."
"Can't stray from this?" Ron asked as he got to near the end, with Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood listed with rather low scores.
"Not supposed to," Harry said as he sipped on the beer, "Suppose I should draft a protest for the Quibbler or even Witch Weekly. I mean, being restricted to purebloods?"
"Did I understand you right?" asked a woman near the door, dressed in lavender.
"Do I know—?" Ron started.
"Crockford," the elderly lady said, "Doris Crockford."
Ron turned his focus back to Harry, however, Harry was already to his feet, pulling back a chair and motioning for her to sit.
"Can I see that?" Crockford asked Harry.
Harry grabbed the list, handed it to her.
"This is…" Crockford muttered, "It reads like a who's who from You–Know–Who."
"You mean Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"Not in the open!" Crockford snapped.
"Top of the list are daughters of Death Eaters?" Ron asked.
"Not you too!" Crockford said, "Delores likely assessed the dowry they'd provide, in addition to blood purity. And the result is…well, money can overcome a lot of moral ambiguities. This list is most definitely unsuitable."
"You're judging too?" Harry spat.
"This list would not be favorable in terms of impressions," Crockford said, "Mind you, it's not uncommon for Wizards to have relationships on the side, despite marriage."
"Adultery?!" Harry stammered.
"Traditionally, marriages were not for love, but arranged for reasons of politics," Doris said, "A wizard, in such a position, would consort his passion outside the union. Not that I was trying to impose anything on you."
"You already did," Harry stated.
"My dissent was ignored," Crockford said.
Ron sipped on his beer, his eyes caught a bit of yellow as Crockford slipped a bit of a potion into her wine.
"Pardon?" Ron asked, pointed.
"Sorry—enlarges the bladder," Crockford said, "Don't tell my mediwizard"
Ron grabbed the vial, eyed the yellow substance.
"Youth aren't in need of that," Crockford stated, "Besides, it's temporary. In an hour or two—"
"Perfect," Ron said as he poured in several drops into Harry's lager, "That's all the time we need."
"You shouldn't have done that," Crockford said.
"Ron!" Harry protested.
"Trust me," Ron said, grin on his face, "It'll help."
"I doubt Professor Dumbledore will appreciate that," Crockford said.
"Dumbledore?!" Harry stammered, "What does he know?!"
"It's a plan," Ron said as his eyes bore onto the elderly witch, "At least in dealing with one annoyance tonight—not like being pissed on ever stops, it keeps on coming and coming at us. It's…"
Ron delved into a brief overview of the events of the term before he came to the second Hogsmeade incident.
"That was definitive?" Crockford said, "I was persuaded by Delores and Narcissa that you two were—"
"We went skiing, were skiing, when that happened," Ron said, "Obviously, the Wizengamot couldn't convict us to be kissed with those doubts, but those doubles were made out to be evidence of us being cunning, not that they could've been Death Eaters imposters. People seem to forget that Harry has an enemy, an enemy with a legion of supporters who'd love to see Harry cut down. Even if You–Know–Who were gone, it wouldn't stop Death Eaters bent on revenge. And we did see him, You–Know–Who the day before your committee intruded onto Harry's life. Coincidence? I think not."
"I'll see…" Crockford started.
Both Ron's and Crockford's eyes caught it, a full mug of lager that flew from an oblivious barkeep to a rest on the table in front of Harry without spilling a drop. Harry sipped at it.
"Don't you think Mr. Potter's had enough?" Crockford asked.
"How do we stop him?" Ron asked, figured that with Harry summoning new beers, it'd be a tough task, "I mean…um…"
"Funny you!" Harry chimed.
"Does he normally—?" Crockford asked.
"Exceptional circumstances require exceptional measures," Ron said, "Think Hermione said that…sometime, don't remember exactly when she said it."
"Mind your drinks!" the barkeep yelled at them.
"You should listen," Crockford said.
"Sober!" Harry exclaimed, "Am I!"
"As a responsible adult here," Crockford said, "Professor Dumbledore—"
"Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, "Old coot—"
"He may be an old coot," Crockford said, "However, he would not have permitted your arrangement if certain precautions were not enacted—"
Ron raised his eyebrows while a bottle of Scotch poured itself into Harry's cup.
"I was unaware of exactly why I was asked to stand guard in this town until a certain Muggle cop made an inquiry into a Harry Potter Guidance Committee and Delores Umbridge," Crockford said, "It's obvious now—in case you needed assistance—"
"Harry doesn't like intrusions," Ron said.
"I wouldn't intrude," Crockford said.
"You already did—that committee did," Ron said, "And you're ON IT!"
"Vote was not unanimous," Crockford said as she swirled her cup, the dark wine made several laps, "Suppose some of the fathers at the top of that list showed up here? You'd find yourselves needing all the assistance you can get. Based on that police chief's familiarity, I presume you spend a lot of time in this town—your presence will not go unnoticed by others forever. So, we all—"
"We?" Ron asked as he pocketed several bottled beers into the front pocket of his maroon Weasley jumper, "How many?"
"Nice try, but they pride themselves in being unobtrusive," Crockford said, "So why would I tell you so you can ferret them out?"
"WATCHING!?" Harry shouted—platters of food agitated on the bar counter.
"Get him out of here before the Ministry—" Crockford order, "I'll cover."
Ron pulled Harry up onto his feet, slung Harry's left arm around Ron's neck. Harry was unstable on his feet, Ron practically dragged Harry out of the Destitute Angel.
"I love…" Harry stuttered, the hand grabbed onto Ron.
Ron pulled Harry into a small park, pushed him down onto the leaf covered cold grass; Harry laid down. Ron sat cross–legged on the grass next to Harry, pulled out one of the beers, opened the lid, and handed it to Harry.
"Darling, my," Harry slurred, "Ta."
"Feeling better?" Ron asked.
"HAPPENING!" Harry yelled.
Harry grabbed Ron, pulled him down as he kissed into the air.
"Fair not!" Harry muttered, "Bastards Bloody! Girl Love—replaceable, not—me…"
Ron shoved another beer bottle at Harry. Harry missed his mouth, beer drenched his Slytherin pajama.
"Fair—not—" Harry said, "Bastard—arse—Malfoy—Jerk—Kiss–it—Must go—"
Ron sensed the urge building in Harry's eyes, he reached and grabbed Harry's portkey, and his own wand. Ron activated the Portkey and grabbed Harry. As they traveled, Ron noticed the rapidly growing darkness on the crotch of Harry's pajama bottoms. They landed in the Slytherin dormitory, a moment later, an excited House Elf greeted them.
"Dobby helps—" Dobby started.
"Go!" Ron said, "I'll deal with this."
Dobby vanished as Ron moved Harry toward Malfoy. Ron activated the Portkey as Harry's pajamas vanished.
"You're late!" Hermione snapped as Ron landed in Gia's bedroom, smirk still on his face, "What've you been up to?"
"Sorry," Ron apologized to Hermione on her knees on the bed, her brown eyes on him.
"And Harry—" Hermione started before Ron caught her eyes on Harry's Portkey and wand, "How is he?"
"Why?" Gia asked.
"He's in no condition to sleep here, I won't permit it—for your sake," Ron stated, "Anyways, he's currently irritating a particular Slytherin—"
"You've been drinking too!" Hermione said, "Enjoy the sofa!"
"What?" Ron stammered.
"Where's Snuffles when you need him?" Gia said, "I second that—out!"
Hermione got up, closed the door as Ron left. Ron went down into the living room, the fireplace burning low.
"Ron," Kristen said, "Can we talk—about Harry?"
"Bit of a headache," Ron said as he pulled his jumper off, laid on the sofa, "Girls wanted the bed to themselves."
"I don't want to see him jerking Gia around," Kristen said, "She doesn't deserve—"
"His strings are being pulled," Ron said, "He's trying to make the best of it."
"I searched for this committee—couldn't find any mention—" Kristen said.
"It exists and it's being a pain in the arse," Ron said, "Good night."
Ron wasn't certain if his body's magic pushed him, but Ron fell to sleep before she could reply.
Wednesday morning, Ron paused next to the Stone Gargoyle on the second floor. Hermione next to him.
"Skittles!" Ron barked at the Stone Gargoyle. It moved, and they went up the stairs, their black caps secured to their heads.
"Enter!" Professor Dumbledore commanded.
"Pardon our intrusion," Hermione said.
"Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger," the Headmaster said, his blue eyes twinkled, "Always a pleasure."
"News to the Sorting Hat?" Hermione asked.
"Unfortunately an exhaustive search of the fireplace has failed to uncover anything, nor can a replacement be made without Fawkes consent—he has so far refused," Professor Dumbledore said, "I appreciate your sorrow, however, I assume that there are other matters on your mind." He paused for a moment. "Where the Minister is concerned, we must tread carefully."
"That—this situation of that committee—" Hermione said, "It's unprecedented to have a committee wield that much authority over a single person. If we borrow from Muggle Law, then behavioral prohibitions can be issued, but that is still rare and come from a judge…I can't find anything referencing a similar circumstance in any Wizarding reference."
"It would likely have been buried," Ron said, "We tend to let Wizards run amok and not take action until it gets too late. This committee does not seem to have Harry's best interests at heart."
"That is an assessment from your point of view, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, "It does appear that this committee was formed with best of intentions to help Harry, even if the outcome has been rather poor and is being misguided with erroneous information."
"But when they enforce it with the threat of deadly force—" Ron started.
"Please elaborate," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Can't keep them sorted," Ron said, "One—an auror—mentioned that he was authorized to use deadly force to enforce the matter."
Professor Dumbledore paused for a moment.
"I suggest you do not loiter as I believe that you are scheduled for Potions," Professor Dumbledore said, "Look forward to another chat. Tea, this afternoon, perhaps?"
"Maybe," Ron said.
Hermione tugged, Ron followed her out of the Headmaster's office.
"Like we'd miss that," Ron said.
"Potions can be very important!" Hermione chimed.
"And you said that with a straight face?" Ron snapped.
Hermione giggled.
They went down the stairs, into the dungeon level, came to the old Potions classroom.
"Guess Professor Snape really pushed for this to be restored," Hermione said before they entered the full room.
"Shh!" Ron whispered.
Ron and Hermione took the table behind Harry toward one end; Crabbe, Malfoy, and Goyle in the rest of the table, while the two Aurors flanked the ends of the table.
"You are to make a—" Professor Snape said as he entered, he aimed his wand at the chalkboard, which flipped to reveal, "A Blood Potion!"
Ron set his cauldron up.
"Disgusting," Malfoy said to Crabbe, "The puking and the pissing—"
"That bad?" Hermione whispered to Ron.
Ron's smirk erased itself from his face as he caught her brown eyes.
"He snuck out," Goyle said.
"He couldn't have," Mafoy said, "I make the best of curfew alarms—it even caught Professor Snape—"
"Wasn't—" Crabbe started.
"Doh!" Malfoy said, "After that other night of wailing in the bathroom, guess it reminded of the Weasels to have to learn the truth, no doubt about that!"
A slight grin tarnished the otherwise professional look of Langdon.
"Hey!" Goyle snapped at Harry.
Harry, however, fumbled his empty cauldron and dropped it. It rattled loudly as it tumbled across the floor. Professor Snape's gaze roamed past Neville toward Harry puking onto Malfoy's neatly arranged ingredients. Harry fell to the floor. Walmer waited, smacked the nose of Harry, and pulled him back up to his feet. Harry stumbled again.
"Blimey!" Neville exclaimed as a cauldron melted before him.
Professor Snape, however, kept his eyes on Harry, with the intent of an early Christmas treat as he approached.
"Forty points Potter," Professor SNape said.
"Potter's DRUNK!" Malfoy barked.
Ron spotted the glee behind Professor Snape's, glee that failed to escape due to years of discipline.
"Fifty points more," Professor Snape said.
"He's been confined to the Slytherins!" Ron protested, "Certainly their Prefect—"
"Fifty points and detention, Weasley!" Professor Snape said as his gaze clearly returned to Harry's. "Drunkenness is not tolerated at Hogwarts."
"Beg your pardon," Langdon said, "Potter never left the dormitory—he couldn't have. We guarded the exit, so I do not know how he—"
"You have apparently lost your sense about students," Professor Snape said, "Never underestimate…"
Professor Snape focused his gaze on Ron. Ron felt those penetrating eyes, his mind searched into his attacker's mind. A thought—an—image surfaced of Professor Snape privately tutoring Pansy Parkinson—a lesson not likely approved for any syllabus.
"How…" Professor Snape muttered before his eyes turned to Hermione, and back to Langon.
"We've searched Potter numerous times," Langdon said.
"Regardless," Professor Snape said, "A house Prefect is expected to keep his charges in line—"
"I do not know!" Malfoy exclaimed.
"Madam Pomfrey measured his blood alcohol to be 0.38 percent," Walmer said, "Unfortunately, her extensive inventory does not include any Sobering–Up potion so Potter must bear through it."
"I am disappointed with Slytherin," Professor Snape said, "One point will be taken for letting Potter get drunk."
Ron wondered if Christmas was canceled.
Professor Snape's eyes turned for a fleeting moment of vanity, his gaze landed upon Harry's unsteady eyes. Ron spotted the lust for a new reason for punishment, the desire that turned to horror from Harry's gaze. Professor Snape's expression unable to contain the surprise as every mental barrier and wall went up, fast. Professor Snape reached for his wand, but instead, sank under Harry's gaze. Professor Snape began to convulse.
"HARRY!" Ron yelled, "STO—!"
Langdon leveled his wand at Ron.
Professor Snape continued to cower before eyes of a snake came forth, and the attack stopped, an attack not of Harry's design.
"Class dismissed," Professor Snape said as he hurried out of the dungeon.
Ron caught a glance from Harry's bottle green eyes, ones that still had unbridled hostility, ones that had dropped inhibitions as years of simmering rage boiled to the surface. Ron felt the strength behind the intensity, ones that had trouble keeping out red eyes.
"Move Potter!" Malfoy said.
Langdon and Walmer pushed Harry out of the dungeon.
"Cool!" Parvati Patil said to Finnigan, "I have never seen him dock a point from Slytherin!"
"Snape saw the eyes of a killer," Finnigan said, "I mean, why'd he cower? Likely did something to preserve his neck."
"Bloody drunk," Dean Thomas said, "Well pissed."
While everybody else packed and left fast, Ron remained as he took time to stow his supplies, his mind mulled it over. Hermione's angry brown eyes, however, kept their focus on him, Ron didn't need Legilimency to know her wrath was near. Ron ran out of things to pack, so he sealed up his book bag.
"So, that's how drunk you got him?" Hermione scolded.
"Did you listen to Malfoy?" Ron said, "See what he did to Professor Snape?"
Ron realized his smug comments did not distract her.
"0.38? In the morning?" Hermione said, "That means it was potentially lethal—you could've gotten him KILLED!"
Ron retreated, adjusted his shirt collar, before he followed the highly agitated Hermione out of the dungeon. Ron stopped at the painting of Salazar Slytherin.
"Know his favorite dish was haggis?" Ron asked.
"How'd you find that out?" Hermione said, "Stop avoiding me!"
"With extra onions," Ron said, as they kept going, "Likely for the vitamins."
"Will you stop—" Hermione started.
"See a painting about his snake?" Ron asked.
"You've got one minute to straighten up," Hermione said.
Ron and Hermione went up the steps to the first floor.
"Okay," Ron said, "Might've misjudged—"
They passed the Hospital Wing, turned right.
"HARRY!" Hermione shouted.
Straight ahead, a huddle mass on the floor, near a statue, slumped to the ground, cap still on his head, with blood smeared on the wall and some seeping out from under his robes.
"MADAM POMFREY!" Ron shouted.
Hermione conjured up a stretcher as Professor Tonks rounded the corner. Professor Tonks ran over, reached Harry at the same time as Ron.
"My goodness!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as she sprinted over.
"Ron!" Professor Tonks barked.
Ron and Professor Tonks pulled Harry onto the stretcher. Hermione tore off Harry's shirt to reveal a smaller puncture wound on the stomach at the same time that Madam Pomfrey arrived.
"Careful!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as Ron and Professor Tonks lifted the stretcher. She conjured bandages, compressed them across the wound, her wand probing. "But hurry!"
They walked fast toward the Hospital Wing.
"Here," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed bandages to Hermione, "Top."
Madam Pomfrey compressed bandages to Harry's back, while Hermione compressed them against Harry's stomach.
"Why the Slytherins got Potter drunk, I'll never know," Madam Pomfrey said as they entered the Hospital Wing, "Certainly doesn't make this any easier—this bed, and careful!"
Ron and Professor Tonks put the stretcher onto one bed; the stretcher vanished. Professor Tonks rushed out of the Hospital Wing, while Madam Pomfrey applied more bandages.
"Will he—?" Hermione started.
"Blood Potions!" Madam Pomfrey said.
Hermione went for the cupboard, while Ron glanced and noticed Professor Snape laying on the bed across the aisle.
"What about—?" Ron asked, pointed.
"Would you rather I tend to that patient?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"No," Ron said. He understood the relative urgency.
"Please don't mind," Madam Pomfrey said as she held her wand to Harry's rib–lined chest, "This requires delicate skill."
"Yeah," Ron said, "Right."
"Psst," came the whisper.
Ron brought his eyes to the cap still on Harry's head. He switched his own cap for it, but held it in his hands as he started for the door.
"If you were in Slytherin—" Professor Snape started.
"Fortunately I am not!" Ron snapped.
"Ron—" Hermione whispered, "He's got—"
"Get away!" Walmer barked as he came into the Hospital Wing.
"This is a Hospital Wing!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, her wand aimed at the proper bandages growing over Harry's wounds.
"Out of my way!" Malfoy shoved Ron aside as he entered.
"Clear out!" Madam Pomfrey shouted.
"Let her work Mr. Malfoy," Minister Fallerschain said as he entered the room, his sky blue robes came to a halt around him, "And Walmer—you too."
Ron stepped back, let the crowd enter, and put Harry's cap onto his head.
"Great!" Ron thought.
"Your fears may be well founded," the hat whispered.
"What is his condition?" Minister Fallerschain asked Madam Pomfrey.
"As his healer I am obligated—" Madam Pomfrey started.
"Will he survive?" the Minister asked.
"Fortunately, yes," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Weasley—step away!" Langdon ordered, wand drawn.
"SILENCE!" Professor Dumbledore commanded as he entered.
"This is—" Madam Pomfrey started.
"I appreciate your dedication," Professor Dumbledore said.
"This is your—" Minister Fallerschain said, finger pointed at the Headmaster.
"I am the duly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore said, "While you are guest of this castle, I expect you to conduct yourself in a civilized manner. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Minister Fallerschain said, "I still expect his transfer to be approved—"
Ron wondered about the insistence.
"Slow, aren't you?" the hat whispered.
"I have a teacher and a student in the Hospital Wing," Professor Dumbledore said, "Poppy, I presume none of these others are needed at this time?"
"It will take time for Mr. Potter to recover, and likely regain consciousness tonight," Madam Pomfrey said, "However, I can manage it."
Professor Snape got up.
"Severus—" Madam Pomfrey started.
"It is superficial," Professor Snape stated.
Ron joined the parade, followed the slow tap of Professor Dumbledore's cane as the procession went up the steps, to the Stone Gargoyle. Professor Tonks joined up by the time Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk.
"Explanations are in order," Professor Dumbledore said, "Because I've got a drunk student that was stabbed—"
"About time you showed concern!" the Minister snapped.
"We found Harry bleeding in the corridor—" Ron started.
"From the beginning," Professor Dumbledore said, "I presume that Mr. Potter showed up to Potions?"
"Highly inebriated," Professor Snape stated.
"Harry left Potions in their custody," Hermione said, "We subsequently found him in the corridor—maybe ten minutes apart, at the most. We immediately summoned help."
"Did you see a knife?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"No—didn't think to look," Ron said.
"I went back," Professor Tonks said, "The House–Elfs were too efficient—even the blood had already been cleaned up."
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore said, "As was pointed out, Mr. Potter was your charge."
"Answer him boy!" Minister Fallerschain snapped.
"I had to ask Professor McGonagall a question," Malfoy said, "Potter insisted on heading to the next class."
"And Mr. Langdon—?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"We had paperwork to complete," Langdon said.
"You were not to abandon the tyke!" the Minister reprimanded.
"Severus?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Best fully discussed later," Professor Snape said, "While Potter may have deserved this fate of his, I did not observe Potter's whereabouts between the lesson or the infirmary."
"Minister—"
Wearing a fluffy pink cardigan with a black velvet bow on top of her head, Delores Umbridge entered the office.
"Delores—" the Minister started.
"Is this—how should we respond?" Umbridge asked as she handed him a piece of paper.
The Minister sighed.
"Playing hardball Headmaster?" Minister Fallerschain said, "We shall see—in the meanwhile, the Aurors will remain—"
"They shall go," Professor Dumbledore ordered.
"Pardon?" the Minister asked.
"Do not misunderstand me," the Headmaster said, "I am certain they've been trained to the fine standards demanded of Ministry Aurors. However, their skills in protecting a teenager in their charge are apparently lacking. It is clear that Mr. Potter's health and safety were endangered under the custodial supervision of Mr. Malfoy and your Aurors. As Headmaster, I am revoking that arrangement while Mr. Potter is in the castle, grounds, and property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mr. Potter shall be returned to the house that he was sorted in—after he has served his suspension."
"What?!" Minister Fallerschain exclaimed, "Not that rubbish—?!"
"I am required to abide by the resolution that you crafted," Professor Dumbledore said, "Regardless of my opinion on the justice of the matter, I am required to suspend him. If you wish to convene the Board of Governors to amend the rules, that is your option."
"You have not heard the last of this!" the Minister Fallerschain said before he departed. Langdon, Walmer, and Umbridge followed him out. Malfoy ran out after them.
"What happened?" Ron asked.
Hermione picked up the paper.
"It's—" Hermione said, "I'm impressed."
"In more words?" Ron asked.
"Petition filed in protest with the Muggle courts," Hermione said, "For reconsideration of Harry's orders…it'd move the entire matter into open Muggle Court."
Ron caught the brief twinkle from Professor Dumbledore's eyes.
"How?" Professor Tonks asked.
"Headmaster," Professor Snape said, "Dark Lord is adamant that Potter sneaked out Monday. He's displeased by any suggestion that Potter heeded orders."
"And Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, "Do you have any idea how Mr. Potter could have become drunk?"
Professor Snape's eyes came to Ron. "Mr. Malfoy has already been held accountable."
Ron realized the trap as the Headmaster's blue eyes focused on his.
"We…I…" Ron said as he tugged at his shirt collar, "It was my idea."
Ron caught the smirk that Professor Snape kept from escaping.
"You can guess where," Ron said, "I thought…get Malfoy to think twice about keeping Harry."
"I am not amused," Professor Dumbledore stated, "Your irresponsible behavior endangered lives today and resulted in an assailant that will likely escape. I would have figured that your friend's life would have be more important to you than settling a petty score—exactly why that isn't, I cannot fathom. Miss. Granger, would I be correct that you either had a role or failed to bring the matter to my attention?"
"The later," Hermione said.
"Hermione was not present," Ron stated.
"I, for one," Professor Snape said, "Would like to know how to stop this from repeating."
"I have granted you a huge liberty and you have repaid it with irresponsibility," Professor Dumbledore said, "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Am I a fool?"
"No," Ron replied.
"The Minister considered suspensions harsh, however I now disagree," Professor Dumbledore said, "Your confession is to your credit, so I might permit the liberties to continue afterward, however, I will be considering that at a later time. You are hereby suspended for three and a half school days, to return on the seventh of January. You are be permitted to retrieve items from your dormitories before departing. I will be writing to your parents, Miss. Granger, about this incident. Mr. Potter will be joining you after Madam Pomfrey approves of his release."
Professor Dumbledore paused for a moment.
"However, do enjoy the holidays," Professor Dumbledore said, "Nymphadora will accompany you to Gryffindor Tower, do not deviate."
Ron and Hermione left the office with Professor Tonks.
…
"Severus," Professor Dumbledore said, "Something else is on your mind."
"As previously discussed, Potter needs training," Professor Snape said, "I could not distinguish between who was trying to kill and who was trying to save me."
"Understood," Professor Dumbledore said, "You should return to Poppy."
Professor Snape left the office.
Hermione had the knack memorized, for years, as the boys were too thick to otherwise understand how pissed off she felt. Her brown eyes flashed at Ron as they landed in the entry of her parent's house. Hermione ripped the Portkey out of Ron's hand.
"You!" Hermione yelled, her finger pointed at the red haired Weasley as she encroached on him, it reached the shirt on his chest, "You could have KILLED—!"
Ron took a step backward.
"He's going to make—" Ron protested.
She took a step to match his.
"That does not excuse your utter lack—" Hermione said, "How much did you give?"
"Nice potion to help him hold more, but I lost track," Ron said. He tripped as he backed up, landed on his posterior, his eyes looked up to hers, ones she knew wanted to tear him to pieces. "Wonder if Malfoy'll get the smell out of those teddy bear boxers?"
"Shame on you for getting your best friend—" Hermione said.
"Go great in his biography," Ron said as he crawled backward from her.
"What?!" She stammered.
"Hot tub?" Ron suggested.
"You think you're deserving of THAT?" Hermione demanded, her anger, her wrath, boiling to the surface, "If—"
"I will…" Ron got up, secured his bag, as he recoiled from her glare, "May talk to you tomorrow."
Ron bolted for the fireplace, tossed in Floo Powder. Hermione watched his lips move, but failed to hear his whisper, as he began to spin before he vanished in the typical green flame. Hermione blinked.
"Harry nearly died!" Hermione said, out of habit, before she took out her wand.
Hermione remembered it, the spell, and flicked her wand at the fireplace. A thought and it was both disconnected and locked out from the Floo Network. Glint of silver of the ring on her finger, the one that reminded her of that prat.
"Be gone!" Hermione shouted as she pulled the ring off, threw it across the living room, where it bounced off a wall and fell onto the carpet.
Hermione ran up the stairs, into her bedroom, and buried her head into the pillow. Flashbacks of Harry crumpled and bleeding out on the floor went through her mind as she cried.
The Keeper gazed upon the Seeker.
"You—you just had to—" the Keeper said, in disbelief.
"Potter—he was vulnerable!" the Seeker protested.
"And it possibly could have killed him!" the Keeper exclaimed.
"Isn't that the whole point?" the Seeker asked.
"Our master knows the plan!" Wormtail said, "Be satisfied with that!"
"Potter will be killed," the Keeper said, "His death has already been scheduled for the most appropriate moment. His closest two friends—"
"At the appropriate time," Wormtail said, "Any others are fair game."