In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 54: Christmas
Ron woke Christmas morning to a repeated clicking sound.
"Why won't this bloody thing light?" came the stammer.
Ron rolled out from beneath the blanket on the sofa, shivered for a moment as he stood up in his underwear.
"Should consider some heat," Ron said as he went into the kitchen area with Percy also in underwear. "Or, at least the fireplace?"
"Requires cleaning if used," Percy said, his armpit exposed as he pressed the knob on the stove, "Can't get this stupid thing to work. Cafes will be closed, so no breakfast unless I make it."
"Here," Ron said as he reached, twisted the knob, "Cook more often and save yourself money."
"Cooking and cleaning require time," Percy said as he turned to the box of pancake mix, "Keep me away from the office."
"It's a bloody holiday," Ron said as he glanced around the counter, "Any eggs?"
"Um…" Percy muttered as he turned while reading the box, "It does call for eggs, doesn't it?" He shook his head. "Not seeing Fred or George on account of a couple of eggs. Does this really require eggs?"
"Dunno," Ron said, "Mum…" Ron went silent as he realized it was the first Christmas without her, never again would he come down on Christmas, in the Burrow, to a full breakfast waiting for him to eat.
"She could cook like a housewife ought to," Percy said, "Inquire when you find a girlfriend."
"Hermione—she'd get mad if I suggested her place was in the kitchen," Ron said, "More to her than that, think she can cook, certainly good at brewing potions."
"And, I don't think I can cheat like Mum could," Percy said as he reached for packets, "Oatmeal?"
"Sure," Ron said, figuring some food was better than none.
Ron took a bowl, with the hot cereal, brought a spoon to his mouth, and began to eat as he stood there in the kitchen, his bare feet on the vinyl linoleum. Percy grabbed the other bowl, went for the bedroom.
"Breakfast?" Ron asked.
"And shower for work," Percy stated.
"It's Christmas," Ron said.
"Think about how many people are expecting an audit on day like today," Percy said, "Nobody!"
"You need to—" Ron started as an owl flew into the apartment, dropped a letter into Ron's hands, a letter that opened by itself. Ron felt the familiar jerk behind his naval as he read the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
We didn't mean to scare you that bad. We promise not to harass you.
Fred & George.
Ron landed in the living room on Blackfoot Yard, in his white underwear
Grrr…Grrr…Grrr…Grrr…..
A black mass, Snuffles, toppled Ron to the floor, pinned onto of Ron, growled into Ron's face. Snuffles bared his teeth.
"As I told you—!" Ron exclaimed as he punched the mutt right on the nose.
Snuffles backed a way for a moment, howled.
"Back away!" Ron shouted, wand in his hand leveled at Snuffles."
"Sirius!" Albus Dumbledore said, "Behave!"
Snuffles backed away.
"Please, sit, Mr. Weasley," Albus Dumbledore said as he pointed to the other easy chair across from him, next to the fireplace.
Ron felt a tad apprehensive being only in his white underwear as he sat. The Headmaster held up a book, Classic Poems of Alchemy.
"Aberforth," Albus Dumbledore said, "My dear brother—this first poem is called Cracked Cauldron Cackle, it might be of interest to Mr. Longbottom. Entertaining, this book is, because Aberforth knows that I need to have a good laugh even if I think I do not. Friends are like brothers, they should have the persons better interests in their hearts, even if the person themselves—"
"Sorry," Ron said, elbows on his spread knees, "You're not getting anymore from me on this matter."
"I pulled a rather angry Sirius—" Albus Dumbledore started.
"And who let him into the room?" Ron asked as he moved his hands to the knees, returned the gaze from this twinkling eyes, the gaze that was trying to probe Ron's mind.
"Suspicious," Sirius said as he came back into the living room, "You do not know the first thing about loyalty!"
"Unlike you?" Ron snapped as he stood, and he went for the door.
Out on Blackfoot Yard, Ron glanced about as he opened the holster, grabbed the Hogwarts pin secured within, and activated it with his wand. A moment later, Ron landed in the Islington apartment as Percy came out of his bedroom. Percy was in his suit.
"If I were to inquire with the Ministry," Percy said, "Would I be startled to find you don't have insurance or registration for that Portkey?"
"Um…" Ron muttered.
"Goes to the twins?" Percy asked.
"One of the locations," Ron said.
"Get your stuff," Percy said, briefcase in hand, "Think we're overdue for a family chat, and I'll forget I ever saw that."
"O..okay," Ron muttered as he grabbed the hat, his bookbag, and his clothes.
"Don't have all day," Percy said.
Ron's wand tapped the Hogwarts Pin and Percy held on with Ron. They both landed in the bedroom on Blackfoot Yard. Ron dropped his things onto the bed, and followed Percy out of the bedroom. Down the steps, into the living room, with neither Dumbledore nor Snuffles. Instead, Fred and George were in the kitchen cooking cauldron cakes.
"P..Percy?" Fred asked.
"Imagine my surprise when a stray leech attached himself to me," Percy said, "And I understand it's due to your misbehavior."
Ron didn't like being referred to as a leech, even though he kinda was.
"I'd suggest ironing out your differences," Percy said, "Because, given the Ministry Audits into business finances on Diagon Alley, it'd be a shame if the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was discovered to have abnormalities in their cash flow."
Percy disapparated.
"You let him in?" Fred stammered at Ron.
"Do I need to repeat myself?" Ron asked, realized he was onto something here.
"Sorry, but as members of the Order—" George started.
"Family FIRST," Ron said, "That's what Mum drilled into all of us, family FIRST."
"Start with Percy," Fred said.
"I did," Ron said, "I'll use him as much as I have to. Now, you promised I could see Ginny, where is she?"
"At Colin's," George said.
"Thank you very much," Ron said as his wand was out, the cauldron cake flew to him.
"Where'd you hide that?" Fred asked.
"Where the sun don't shine!" Ron snapped.
"Too well polished for that," George said.
"You're looking?" Ron asked.
"No, most definitely not," Fred said.
Ron began to think about Hermione.
Hermione rolled out of bed, daylight already through the curtains, as she dropped to the floor. A fast move, and she landed on with her feet on the light pink carpet. She stumbled for a moment, across the room and down the stairs. In the living room, blocking the bay window, was a tree lit up, branches against Mark's hunched over back. Mark leaned over as he played with the computer.
"You missed JJ—he went to church," Mark said, "Said later."
"Ta," Hermione said wondered if JJ was trying to show himself a gentlemen instead of simply showing up unannounced in the bedroom. Still, this was the family she had left.
"Happy Christmas!" Aunt Cindy rang out, a flowered dress over her.
Hermione went over to the woman, accepted the hug.
"You've become a lady," said Aunt Cheryl, with a bit more formal shirt and slacks, from a dining chair repurposed from the conservatory.
"Glad you've made yourself at home," said Uncle Jarod from the kitchen, in a bathrobe, as he flipped pancakes in a griddle.
It was here that Hermione recognized the genius of Harry, even though she was in her knickers, true friends and family focused on the person, not the packaging.
"Happy Christmas," Hermione said.
Hermione crossed the kitchen, sat at the table in the conservatory. Trenise was two seats to the right, dressed in head to toe Christmas pajamas, over the cast.
"Hi Hermione!" Trenise exclaimed.
"Ta," Hermione said, felt a draft of cool air on her back from the glass paneling.
Hermione stared at the pancakes coated in syrup, her mind drifted toward Harry and Ron, playing together, maybe having a snowball fight if they had snow. She thought about Harry with those bottle green eyes that always conveyed a sense of childhood innocence ever since she first spotted them on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago.
"Hermione?" Aunt Cindy asked.
"I…I…" Hermione stuttered.
"Everything alright?" Aunt Cindy asked.
"It's fine," Hermione lied as she grabbed a bowl of oatmeal.
"Got some bacon," Aunt Cindy said.
"That'd be more Ron's thing," Hermione said, realized that was reflexive, she knew Ron couldn't resist that smell. Harry could unless Gia was around.
Knock! Knock!
It was faint, out in the living room. Hermione buttered toast, added jelly, and bit into the strawberry flavor.
"Hermione!" came the holler.
Hermione grabbed the butter knife as she stood up, went back past Uncle Jarod, into the living room, where JJ stood in the entry way, a dozen roses in his hand, wearing his dark blue jumper and pajama bottoms.
"Can we—?" JJ asked.
Hermione went up the stairs, JJ grabbed a vase from Aunt Cindy and followed into the bedroom. Hermione leaned back against the desk, her pink jumper on it with a bit of her wand's handle showing, however, she pointed the butter knife toward JJ. JJ put the vase on the desk, put the roses in, his jumper open to show him shirtless beneath. He stood there, faced her, the creases in his abdomen, the ones that formed a boyish V, converged toward the elastic of his pajamas.
"I'm sorry for yesterday," JJ said, "You're right, I should've asked…asked before. Can you forgive me?"
"I…" Hermione stopped herself, she kept her eyes on him. His hands remained still, Hermione uncertain if it was her desires that did it, maybe a wandless charm, as his jumper ripped itself off of him. JJ's arms moved enough, until he was shirtless, nipples there, the naval above the blue pajama bottoms. She wanted to see more, and the pajama bottoms fell, exposed the green Christmas themed jockey underwear with the bulge in the front.
"How?" JJ asked.
JJ was handsome, but was reminded her of his immaturity, his youth compared to hers. She knew from Harry and Ron that sometimes boys needed it spelled out.
"I like what I am seeing, but you've been pushing me a bit fast," Hermione said, she spotted the pink of his blush, "I've told you I'm not ready to commit there, but you pressed forward, uninvited."
"Oh," JJ said.
"Can I trust you?" Hermione said, "That's the question, and your actions said NO."
"Sorry," JJ said as he bent down for his jumper.
"I'll forgive your trespass, this once," Hermione said as she gave a quick glance to the bulge of the underwear, "I'd like to go further, but I'm simply not ready to take that step."
"Um…meaning?" JJ asked as he scratched his head.
Hermione stepped toward JJ, held his hands, the arousal beneath the cloth clear.
"Show me that I can trust you, with me," Hermione said, "Focus on my mind, the body comes later, and don't hide, alright?"
"You do like that?" JJ asked.
"Yes," Hermione said, "Reminder's more than appreciated, it chips away at the ice."
"Um…" JJ muttered.
JJ stood there, their hands held together.
"Can you do that?" Hermione said, "Spend rest of Christmas together, show that I can trust you?"
"Yes, suppose so," JJ said, "Though I have to call to cancel my evening shift, means I'll have to work tomorrow."
"What store's open on Christmas?" Hermione asked.
"Not everybody celebrates Christmas," JJ said.
They went down the stairs, JJ went for the phone near Mark. JJ tapped on the buttons.
"Is he staying?" Aunt Cheryl asked.
"Yes," Hermione said, "And that outfit's his present to me."
"Cute," Aunt Cheryl said.
"Hopefully works out better than your last one," Aunt Cindy said.
"Alice," JJ said into the phone, "Yeah, something's come up—" his eyes focused on Hermione and her knickers, "Gotta cancel plans, um… I'll be there in the morning. Ta." JJ hung up.
JJ followed Hermione back to the conservatory, sat to her left.
"If he tries anything—" Uncle Jarod said.
"If he does," Hermione said as she grabbed another table knife, "I amputate."
"Ouch," JJ muttered.
"Abuse it, you lose it," Hermione said, "So don't abuse it."
JJ, though, worked at the bacon.
"Happy Christmas," JJ said.
"You too," Hermione replied as she turned back to her oatmeal.
She ate at the lukewarm, wondered if she could get away with a wandless heating charm. Her eyes snapped down as he adjusted his underwear.
"Sorry," JJ said, "Habit."
"It's fine," Hermione said.
Hermione felt glad she tried reconciliation with JJ, much better than a fight and a flight like Ron had done. Hermione's mind turned toward Harry and Ron, found herself curious to the trouble they were getting themselves into.
A Christmas tree stood to the corner of Fred and George's living room, the star on top, the twinkling lights, as the box in the corner wailed the latest from the Gilderoy Girls. And Ron sipped at the mug at the small bar. He glanced at Ginny and Colin sitting on the sofa. Odors of a roasting turkey came from the kitchen.
"You're looking joyous," said Charlie as he came from the Fireplace, the other occupant of the Romanian cabin, Adam followed behind, to Ron, "Was wondering about—"
"You think I bloody know?" Ron said, glaring at Charlie, "Harry was suspended at the same time I was, we never discussed holiday plans because we didn't think we had to. Harry's emancipated, like me, so he can make up his own bloody mind with what he wants to do over the holiday. I hear he's having a smashing time, and you think I know where to find him? So far, Voldemort's had as much success as us in finding him, so I think Harry's hiding just fine—I wish him good luck."
"I was going to ask about who's in charge of the wireless," Charlie said, "Even the Weird Sisters is better than this."
"Have to answer to Ginny if you touch it," Ron said.
Ron glanced at Adam whose eyes betrayed the nervousness within.
"Adam had a spat," Charlie said, Ron picked up on the cover, "Offered to let him enjoy the holiday with us."
"Bill?" Ron asked.
"Security still calls on a holiday," Charlie said, "Heard you showed up with Percy."
"Wanted a word with Fred and George," Ron said, "You know Percy."
"You're the only one Percy's really talking to," Charlie said.
"I'm special," Ron sneered.
Ron put the empty mug to the side, a reminder of why he wasn't with Hermione, or Harry for that matter.
"Mind?" Adam asked, pointed to the seat next to Ron.
"Sure," Ron said.
Ron glanced at the hand, Adam's nerves that came through.
"Heard you were good with the wand," Adam said.
"Think I am," Ron said.
"Here we go," Charlie muttered.
"Did bring my wand," Adam said.
"And mine," Ron said, holding his up.
"Challenging?" Charlie asked.
"No," Ron said as he ducked his hand beneath the counter, banished his wand back to his holster.
"Thought it'd be something to do," Adam said, "We didn't come last year, because…"
"Mum was too busy," Charlie said.
Ron knew about. Still, Ron wanted to share the holiday with Hermione and Harry, both of whom, he missed on this day. Ron summoned his mug and filled it with more eggnog.
Ron stood Thursday morning and was about to turn for the door when Hedwig flew in. Ron smiled at the snowy owl, removed the letter.
"Get you a treat next time I'm there," Ron said, "Fresh out."
She nipped at Ron's hand before she flew out. Ron opened the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron,
Sorry for the short notice, Mum'd love to treat you to brunch today.
Richard.
Ron grabbed the hat and activated Harry's Portkey; he landed in Gia's bedroom, the perch empty. Ron walked down the steps, into the living room of 26 Oak Street in Noigate.
"Good to see you," Kristen said, in the training sweats of the Noigate police.
"Good morning ma'am," Ron said.
Kristen waved, and Ron went for the dining room.
"Bit surprised Richard wasn't lying when he said you could get here on short notice," Kristen said, "Especially being Boxing Day with no trains running."
"Got my way," Ron said as glanced at the table, a brunch including waffles, bacon, hash browns, and eggs, was already prepared, "Looks nice."
"I insist every one of my charges take a full day off over the holidays," Kristen said, as she held out a chair for Ron to sit in, "I figured it'd be nice to have a proper brunch after so much—I mean, it really is a pleasure. I wanted to invite Hermione, but she's still out of town."
Richard entered and he sat two seats away from Kristen, leaving Ron on the opposite side in between the two.
"I must admit," Ron said, "It's been stressful too."
Ron helped himself to a waffle, added butter and syrup to it. Fork to the crossed pattern, and he cut into the. A bite into the mouth, and Ron appreciated it, a feeling he hadn't felt in a year, since his Mum… Ron understood, he still missed her, will forever miss her. He glanced at Kristen's eyes, ones that betrayed the sense of an agenda, ones that allowed Ron to continue eating.
"Him and Hermione have been…at odds," Richard said, "Otherwise, he'd be with her, right now."
"You two have been—?" Kristen started.
"I goofed and she…" Ron said, "She had a right to be mad. I'd love nothing better than to see her, and apologize. But, that's not why I'm here, is it?"
"As we're confessing," Kristen said, "You're right. You must understand that when I take in a stray puppy, I adopt them as my own, so I'm as concerned as I would be if it were about Andrea or Richard. I understand you've got information about Gia's whereabouts, and I'm hoping you'd give it."
Ron took a moment. He grabbed a bit of streaky bacon, ate. He took a cup of the orange juice, drank it.
"Hat!" Ron thought, his mind divided between loyalties and her sincerity, her concern that wasn't like the others, "Hat! I want to help—this is different, but I can't let it leave, and I'm not certain…"
"A dilemma you have," the Hat replied, "If you trust this woman and boy to not voluntarily divulge, if you truly wish to share, a Fidelius Charm I could assist—one of Rowena Ravenclaw's favorites."
"Well," Ron said, his hand swirled the cup, the juice made laps, and his eyes alternated between Kristen's and Richard's, felt the hat working in, "You must not repeat this to anybody—"
"If that's what it takes—" Kristen said.
"We swear," Richard said.
"Bear in mind that I do not know their location nor have I talked with either of them about it," Ron said, "I only tell you this because you're concerned about Gia more than Harry—"
"Harry is missing too?" Kristen asked.
"Mum!" Richard snapped.
"Based on what I know," Ron said, "I've got every reason to believe that both Harry and Gia are—how should I put it? An unplanned holiday, together. Why nobody else has been able to piece that together, whether they're too daft to see it, I cannot fathom."
"I would've expected Harry and Gia to have told me," Kristen said.
"You'll have to ask them when they return," Ron said, "I'd guess the sixth, the day before our suspension ends."
"Why could you have not simply entrusted me with this sooner?" Kristen asked.
"It's…complicated," Ron said, "I think you had a hand in Harry's petition, overturning that stupid ASBO, so you're quite aware his life isn't normal."
"Which is why we went skiing," Richard said, "Their problems—getting worse?"
"In a handbasket," Ron said, "Though they lack some of the clues I have, others are searching, for Harry, unaware their hunt would endanger him more than it'd protect, unwilling to listen to any voice that casts doubt on their design."
Ron stood, his soft todger dangled from beneath his pubic hair, and he adjusted the hat on his head.
"Thank you for the food," Ron said, "While I'd like to say more, I've already told you more than I've told anybody else, and, unfortunately, I'll have to leave you at that. I'm truly sorry if this hurts you."
Ron caught those eyes, the ones that stayed focused at him, the ones that weighed his words.
"I respect your decision," Kristen said, "While I wish you had more confidence in me, I still respect your decision."
"In the meanwhile," Ron said, "Please keep Gia listed as missing."
"Anything happens, do not step inside this house," Kristen said, "Hope you can live with that."
"I'm not wrong," Ron said, "I've wagered on that."
Ron left the dining room, went out the front door into the chilly cold, and went a short ways before he activated Harry's Portkey. A malfunction, Ron assumed, as he landed his arse onto cold asphalt of Blackfoot Yard. Ron stood, and went for the door. His cordial mood lasted a second more after he stepped in through the front door, into the living room.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Professor Snape stood there, wand drawn, his dark eyes beneath the greasy hair trained on Ron, the gloating obvious.
"If I were bent on your destruction Weasley," Professor Snape said, "You'd be dead, you pathetic—unable to defend yourself against the most basic of charms."
"You can escape this Weasley," the Hat whispered, "Concentrate."
Ron focused on the thought of motion, pushed it through his blood, his arteries wicked his will out to his articulated limbs. Slowly, Ron raised his arm, wand drawn.
"Incapable of eluding even the most incompetent of Death Eaters," Professor Snape said, "Crucio!"
Ron's arms twitched and convulsed as his entire body screamed out in pain. Thought fled his mind, chased out by the intolerable sensation, pins and needles through out, biting of many teeth ripping him apart.
"Fledgling," the Hat thought to Ron, "Listen to me."
Narrow thought ebbed back in as the hat shielded Ron's mind from the body as it fell to the floor.
"I—escape," Ron thought back, his body writhed along the carpet.
"Focus!" the Hat thought to Ron, "Two ways to stop a curse being cast, name them."
"Fine time to debate intricacies of spell casting!" Ron snapped back in thought.
"SEVERUS!" Sirius snapped as he came in from the back courtyard into the kitchen, "What do you think—"
"You can stop this," the hat thought to Ron, "A curse can only stop from him, however, the curse is coming from—"
"Can do this," Ron thought back, wand leveled up toward the Potions Master.
Unsure to the source, Ron cast as the hat guided, a strong desire to rid himself of the insufferable Professor. Ron paid no attention to the dumbfounded look upon Sirius' face, as an orange bead of magic backtracked along the Cruciatus Curse. Orange devoured as it reached Professor Snape, and turned the git into a shower of sparks. Ron relaxed as the curse lifted, and he stood back up, near the door.
"What did you do?" Sirius demanded.
"He—he—he attacked!" Ron stammered.
"He was asking you about Harry," Sirius said.
"What a fine way of going about asking!" Ron said, "You're wondering why I don't join your pathetic group if torture's what you have to offer?"
Sirius glared.
"Where is Harry," Sirius asked as he sharpened a kitchen knife.
"Bugger off," Ron said, "Actually, bugger your flea ridden fleece—"
Sirius threw the knife at Ron. It sailed an inch away from his right ear before it embedded itself in the door.
"If I had wanted you dead, you would be," Sirius said, "I want the location of Harry—now! You seem smug with your not caring that Harry could be in trouble or dead. I thought you had better sense—"
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Ron said, wand aimed, "You talk and you talk, but you consider Harry some prize to haggle over—how many Galleons will his dismembered corpse net you after you and your comrades pull him apart into a million different pieces? Do not follow me—you—you've made it clear that you're willing to murder me! Wormtail may have framed you—but you're as good as a murderer, you've certainly got the instincts."
Ron's anger and his wrath went into his wand, as the sharp curse flew. Sirius ducked, and it ricocheted off the counter. Stone dust billowed across the living room as a chunk of the fireplace was blasted apart. Ron ran up the stairs, into the bedroom.
"Thank you hat," Ron said, before he glanced at his things, realized best to not store them there.
Ron assumed it'd be one way out, grabbed the trunks, placed them on the bed, his bookbags, along with Pig's cage on top.
"Meet up with Hedwig," Ron said to Pig, who left.
Ron held on as he activated his Portkey, felt the jerk behind the naval, and landed in Gia's bedroom. Pig's roost went next to Hedwig, while the trunks in the closet went next to Harry's.
As Ron reached for the strap of his bookbag, a familiar face entered the bedroom. Richard, with his brown hair.
"Thought you already left," Richard said, "After the rough time my Mum gave you."
"She—" Ron poked Richard. "She was downright pleasant, I'd take her grilling any day of the week."
"Best to not be seen," Richard said, "I'll double check."
Ron strapped the bookbag over his shoulder before he followed Richard. They went down the stairs. Richard peered over the stairwell railing, before he continued, opened the front door. Ron went out, Richard shivered as he followed.
"I'll go get my jumper," Richard said.
"Here," Ron said as his wand came out, a cast, and Richard stopped his shivering. "Better?"
"How long does it last?" Richard asked as they went through the cold air of the day.
"Let me know when it stops," Ron said as they walked.
"You and Hermione—think that set off bells in Mum's head," Richard said as they stopped at a bus stop.
"It's why we were suspended," Ron said, "She was furious. Not sure whose worse, our lot, or her fury, but neither's made for a good holiday."
Richard sat with his butt on the top of the bench.
"Suppose not," Richard said.
"Harry—he's famous in our world, and the one who accidentally caused that fame wants to rectify his mistake," Ron said, "Harry comes here and he escapes that, the burden of it, of being watched and published. He can't even pop a zit in our world without it being analyzed in the rags. Here…here, he's normal, or as close as he can get."
"Much more going on," Richard said, "I can see that, Mum can see that, and we're not sleeping easy by it."
"Two weeks ago, our world intruded its ugly face here," Ron said, "Threatened the first thing that truly gave Harry happiness, Gia. My lot—they want to drag him back into our world, confine him for his own safety, but forget that isolation isn't life, isn't living. Harry forged his own path, with her—I have half a mind to find him myself so I can hide with him."
Richard snorted.
"After I left this morning—I was attacked in the house of my brothers," Ron said, "It wasn't the first time. People who claim to want to uphold the spirit of what's right and noble, torturing me, all because they've failed to use their brains."
"Sucks," Richard said, "Got a bit of an idea, it'd be Mum's plan to help. But enough of that." Richard jumped off the bench. "Jen's one street up."
Ron and Richard walked to the blue house, Richard entered. Ron ducked behind a parked car, grabbed a spare bit of a two by four, and crouched as he activated the Portkey. He landed in Percy's living room of the chilly, cold, apartment. Ron threw the lumber into the fireplace, wand aimed, and lit a fire. Ron sat down on the sofa, took out his journal, and began to write when his eyes came to The Daily Prophet on the coffee table, already open to page thirteen.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Rita Skeeter Honored With Award
Rita Skeeter, a distinguished journalist for The Daily Prophet was awarded for her honest reporting on Harry Potter. Minister for Magic, Victor Fallerschain, delivered the award to Rita Skeeter in a ceremony in The Daily Prophet offices this morning. The minister gave a short conference on the updates for Harry Potter.
Ron skimmed the rest of the paper before he summarized it in his journal.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Boxing Day, 1996
Toilet Minister now taking heat for letting us off the hook for both Hogsmeade and Hermione, implied that Harry's fame required that standards of proof be raised, despite the fact that an ordinary person would be rotting in Azkaban, with or without a soul. At least my permanent ban for Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley has been overturned, by him, a move many attribute to Harry's and Dingy Bat's influence. Aurors will be stationed, though, whenever we go shopping, an extra expense on Harry's supposed fame and wealth. Dunno why the Minister's turned a leaf, though that doesn't stop the flood of letters to the editor that demand more permanent measures be taken, and I doubt they mean Azkaban.
Ron started to wonder about Hermione and Harry, when a brown owl dropped a letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron
We did not authorize that slimy Snape to do what he did, in our house, to you. We'd like to apologize.
Fred and George
Ron had a shrewd idea, banished the letter to join the flames heating the apartment. Figured they weren't going to stop before Harry returned.
Albus Dumbledore washed his hands as he felt the tingling. He glanced out the window, into the stairwell, as a familiar large hound came up the stairs. It took Albus Dumbledore a few moments, hand shook on his cane, to come out and step on the platform. A press of the red button, and the moving plank carried him down the staircase.
"I admit to have been surprised by this marvel Poppy saw fit to give me for my Christmas gift," Albus Dumbledore said to Sirius, who stood there on the other side of the desk, "Unnecessary luxury, however, I confess it is easier on the knees."
"A muggle contraption," Sirius said, "Not sure if I'd stake my life on it."
Albus Dumbledore sat into the chair behind the desk.
"Any word from our turtle?" Albus Dumbledore asked.
"Duck," Sirius said, "To say Ron is upset is an understatement—did you authorize Snape to use the Cruciatus Curse on him?"
"I had asked Severus to be harsh," Albus Dumbledore said, "Though I did not fathom that he would resort to using that on Ronald."
"I've never seen anybody force an apparation while under the curse," Sirius said, "Remus thought I was making it up, that Ron forced it on Snape."
"Remarkable feat," Albus Dumbledore said.
"I understand it'll take days for the House Elfs to get the smell out of the clothes," Sirius said.
"I dread having to exert this much effort onto a teenager," Albus Dumbledore said, "And the fact that I even have to exert it is surprising given his record. Ronald does not seem to care that Death Eaters are scouring the whole of the British Isle looking for Harry Potter—it's only a matter of time until he is found. Without his wand, Harry is defenseless."
"Ron'll wish himself dead," Sirius promised.
"No, you will not," Albus Dumbledore said, "Unfortunately, for some selfish reason, Ronald no longer has Harry's nor our better interests at heart. Without employing the tactics we despise in our enemies, I doubt we'll get anything further of value out of him. I only hope Ronald's prepared to endure the consequences of his decisions."
"Headmaster!" Sirius protested.
"Ronald has made his choice and we must make ours," Albus Dumbledore said, "While I do not believe that order membership is in store for him, I won't rescind the offer, not yet. However, I won't renew it either."