In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 60: Durlocks
Harry woke up in a sweat early Tuesday morning, a bit of the waning crescent entered the bedroom. Harry slid off the wet spot of the bed, stood by the bookshelf. On top, a package addressed to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon Disposal, LLC. Harry wondered about, but instead spotted the light brown outback hat.
"Something bothering you Potter?" the hat whispered.
Harry grabbed the hat, went into the bathroom, and closed the door; he twisted the lock and turned on the light. Harry placed the hat on the counter by the sink, leaned back against the wall.
"How undignified," the hat said.
"Didn't want say it out loud," Harry said, "Gia thinks she knows, but she doesn't know half the truth."
Harry brought his right hand out, focused, and his eleven inch holly wand leapt into his fingers.
"I thought I had it figured out," Harry said, "Keeping him out, there were many close calls."
Harry focused, and his wand returned, to the holster he knew was there, but didn't see because he didn't want to see it. He brought his left fingers over, the right wrist felt smooth.
"He's learned, adapted," Harry said, "Not as simple as it once was."
Harry's eyes turned to himself in the mirror.
"It's a struggle and I can barely contain it," Harry said, "Banging her now attracts his attention, but if I think about banging Ron that will deflect it. I'm afraid he'll succeed when my friends are at their most vulnerable with me."
"Your Headmaster has offered—" the hat started.
"Snape's more of a puppet than he realizes," Harry said, "And Dumbledore? You best believe Voldemort will eaves drop on that one, and I would only be able to watch that attack."
Harry's bottle green eyes studied his own bottle green eyes in the mirror.
"An expert is what I need," Harry said, "You've got a bit of Gryffindor in there, so, can you help?"
"You have school today," the Sorting Hat said, "But yes."
Harry went back to the bedroom and slipped back into the bed, fell to sleep. Later, he was roused and woken as the large mass of black fur jumped up onto to the bed. Snuffles' big snout was sniffing at Harry, running over the skin.
"That's perverted," Ron said, who stood nearby, "To go pawing at your godson?"
Snuffles laid down, trapped Harry beneath him.
"You're suffocating me!" Harry protested as Hermione squirmed out.
"When was his last flea bath?" Gia asked.
Snuffles whimpered.
"With the way he was hassling me," Ron said, "You'd think it was for murdering you."
"Never harass Ron again," Harry stated.
Ron grabbed Hermione, left the bedroom, Gia followed, and the shower could be heard. Snuffles transformed, stood beside the bed.
"You went missing for weeks," Sirius said, "You should've told someone—"
"Nosing into the wrong thing?" Harry stammered as he stood, feet on the bed, "Ever hear about this big, bad, and ugly wizard called Voldemort?"
"Who's after you!" Sirius snapped.
"Think I missed that detail," Harry said, bracing himself as the bed jiggled beneath his feet.
"This isn't funny," Sirius stated.
Harry read those dark and sullen eyes.
"If you suggest I let Voldemort castrate me, that'd solve his nightmares," Harry said, "I do not need a smothering babysitter mother. I chose to spend my holiday privately with Gia and that was my choice. I can face danger—but you—you chickened out being a secret keeper to my parents and now you're lecturing me? You always know how to play it safe."
"You know nothing—" Sirius sneered, pointed.
"I will not have you, nor anybody else, run my life," Harry said, "I'm tired of these politics. I'm glad Ron turned that order down—it would have been a mistake, a mistake that I could have too easily made. If you do not appreciate me—then feel free to leave and don't let the door hit your arse on the way out."
"I shall speak to Dumbledore about the over indulgence of liberty he has granted you," Sirius said as he started to tap his Portkey, "He can definitely use my talent elsewhere."
"Tell him—I quit," Harry said, "I've got Gia to protect."
Sirius vanished.
Hoot!
Harry avoided the wet spot as he sat back down on the bed, aware it was most likely him. Ron came back into the bedroom, towel over his head.
…
Sirius shook himself as he landed in the Headmaster's office.
"Always a hound," Snape sneered.
"Insults as usual," Sirius said as Snape left.
"Any news?" Dumbledore asked, behind his desk.
"As Ron hinted, Harry showed up," Sirius said, "Harry lied about the breakup, quite clear him and Gia are still a couple."
"I'm disappointed in Mr. Potter to not be forthcoming," Dumbledore said.
"May have been the heat of the moment," Sirius said, "Harry sounded serious about quitting."
"If I had any color remaining in my hairs before," Dumbledore said, "It would have disappeared in the past several weeks."
"And I thought Azkaban was bad," Sirius said.
"You accepted the role of godfather," the Headmaster said, "So, welcome to parenthood, the most difficult job there is."
"What should I do?" Sirius asked.
"Mr. Potter needs to feel free to attend Hogwarts, but it's also clear that Gia must continue to be protected at all times," Dumbledore said, "Therefore, I want you to return, protect her whenever she's not in Harry's company. And, Harry's due to return shortly."
Sirius transformed as he tapped the Portkey.
…
Harry's eyes traced upward as he laid on his back on the bed, head over the edge, where Gia straddled him.
"He's certifiably!" Hermione said, "He's been doing this—?"
"All holiday long," Gia said.
"If it helps him fight You–Know–Who," Ron started.
"Of course you're supporting him," Hermione snapped.
"I agree with Harry," Gia said as she tossed a pair of knickers to the side, pulled on her school blouse without a brassiere beneath, "Clothing's for suckers."
Harry snickered, Hermione groaned.
"You both went starkers?" Ron asked.
"We left starkers, returned starkers," Harry said, "Don't really want to…"
"You're back?" Ron demanded of Sirius entering the bedroom.
Harry sat back up, trained his eyes on the sullen ones.
"For the protection of Gia," Sirius said.
"A stalker!" Gia said.
"Did he confirm it?" Harry asked, sarcasm seeping from his tongue, "Did Dumbledore confirm that a big bad wizard is indeed after me?"
"You may return to Hogwarts," Sirius said.
"Give it another go?" Gia asked as she kissed Harry's lips.
"Guess I will," Harry said.
Gia pulled a jumper over her blouse, the black trousers around her legs, and she left the bedroom. Sirius transformed and followed.
"School's very important, to learn," Hermione said.
"We'll see," Harry said as he stood, "Um…"
"Portkey—yours," Ron said as he went over to his trunk.
Harry watched Ron rummage through the trunk.
"Think your book–bag's still there," Ron said as he handed the Hogwarts Pin to Harry.
"Still got an hour," Harry said, "Make use of the bed you two."
Harry caught Hermione's glaring brown eyes as he activated the Portkey. A little unnerving, the jerk behind the naval, one he hadn't gone through in weeks. Drawn fast, it whisked Harry back toward that castle. Harry sat on the bed, his four–poster, as soon as he landed in his dormitory.
"Can't snog Gia in there," Ron said a bit later as his head poked into the curtains.
"You!" Harry snapped.
Harry bolted out of the curtains, pinned Ron to the wall, and Ron laughed.
"Take a look at this," Hermione's voice came out.
Harry let loose of Ron. Hermione grabbed a very short bit of newspaper from on top of it, brought the print over.
"One guess who," Ron said.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
7 January 1997, Tuesday
Hogwarts Corpse
Dark Arts of Hogwarts
by Seamus Finnigan
Revelations have confirmed that several of the students are actively practicing Dark Arts here at Hogwarts. Potter—the dreamer of fanciful tales of Basilisk, the murderer seeking glory from the Tri–Wizard championship at the price of Cedric Diggory's life, and liar hoodwinking Dumbledore at every opportunity. Whether or not one believes You–Know–Who was defeated, beware for Potter and his servants intend to replace him at any cost. Just ask Justin Finch–Fletchley what that cost is, may he be returned to us.
Ginny's Tower
by Ginny Weasley
Rumor has it that the Gryffindor Quidditch team now stands a good chance to win the Quidditch Cup. After all, a cup is a small tithing to Dark Wizards. To those concerned, I have procured a small inventory of Death Omens: What To Do When You Know the Worst is Coming, get your own copy while supplies last.
Body Armor
Justin and Paul Prewett have started a new venture in the procurement of steel body armor. In the single day they have been business, they have already received a dozen orders.
Self Defense Lessons
by Padma Patil
Are two Aurors from the Ministry really going to keep you safe at Hogwarts? We doubt it. So, in response to heightened concerns, the House Prefects are offering self–defense lessons to help when Harry Potter, the Boy–Who–Should–Be–Killed, turns the corner. Please contact one of your house Prefects for further information.
Harry turned for the window, where morning was still waging war with the night that had passed, stared out it. Snow on the ground. Harry stared at a few snowflakes loitering in the air, undecided to go up or down. His reputation at Hogwarts was clear.
"We'll get through it," Ron said.
It sunk into Harry, the pariah he'd become, the designs of the Death Eaters were bearing fruit, claiming their victims. Ron stepped aside as Harry turned
"Can't be bothered to get dressed," Hermione said as she fished through Ron's wardrobe for her school clothes, "Any of you!"
"You don't have to get dressed," Ron said to Hermione as he worked over a package on his bed.
"Hmph!" Hermione snorted.
Harry went over to his wardrobe, pulled out his book–bag that was hung up, a fresh set of clothes, and put them on.
Harry stepped to the table, where Ron now stood in black trousers and the proper Gryffindor uniform with a black robe.
"She—we spent the last of my Puddlemere United money," Ron said.
Hermione led the charge, Ron and Harry followed, and they went down the steps. Harry paused in the common room.
"Lets go," Harry said, working up the courage, and they left Gryffindor Tower.
Down more steps, Harry knocked at the door on the first floor corridor.
"Enter," Professor McGonagall called out.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said as they came in, "Need our schedules."
Harry stopped in front of the desk, watched her eyes that appeared pleased to see them.
"First," Hermione said as she handed over a roll, "If these two blokes can manage, figured emancipation was the easiest."
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, "Miss. Granger, may I extend my deepest condolences on the loss of you parents—I know it's difficult. I am available to talk if need somebody to talk to."
"Thank you for the offer," Hermione said, "I…I just don't know."
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, "As you may or may not have noticed from that student paper, you have an image problem. While I do know that the majority of it is outside your control, you can control how you act in the presence of others and attempt to portray the image you want them to have of you. If it would help, I could find opportunities to volunteer at St. Mungo's or another charitable organization."
Professor McGonagall peered at them over her spectacles.
"I trust I do not need to elaborate on the threats that await you outside this castle," Professor McGonagall said, "You must absolutely be prepared, as prepared as you can possibly be, to have the best chance at succeeding. I assure you that I will do everything I can to assist you, as has Professor Dumbledore so committed himself, for we still believe in you. I have compiled the a list of essays from each of your classes so you may continue to study the material during your suspensions, for while credit cannot be earned, your lessons should not fall as victims."
"No credit?" Ron asked.
"Credit is in life," Professor McGonagall said, "Now, Mr. Weasley, please ensure that the Gryffindor Quidditch team can practice and play without your presence—I am not asking that you step aside, for I think that you are being treated unfairly, and—" she gave a thin smile "—we do not wish for Professor Snape to gloat."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he took their schedules from her.
They turned around and left.
"Hagrid's first," Harry said as he handed the other two schedules over to Ron and Hermione.
"She's acting like…" Ron started.
"Like things have only gotten worse," Harry said, "Which they have."
They walked out of the castle's front doors, onto the snow covered steps, a morning sun in a sky of fluffy white clouds. Harry issued the warming charm onto himself, walked across the snow. Ron and Hermione followed, down to the crowd of students gathered around Hagrid's Hut.
"Well, well," Malfoy sneered as they approached, "Guess scraping money off Finch–Fletchley got somebody enough for a new second–hand robe."
"Careful Draco," Parkinson said, "They murdered the Mudblood's parents."
"Should be expelled," Dean Thomas stated.
"Dumbledore's an old man," Parvati said, "Needs something to hump."
"Let's find out—" Goyle drew his wand and aimed it at Harry, "Textile serpere!" His wand left.
Harry's clothes flew off, left him standing starkers in the snow, only his warming charm kept him from freezing.
"Stop!" Ron snapped, his fourteen inch wand leveled at Goyle, and Goyle's wand in his left hand.
"Put that away," said the tall brown haired Auror standing behind Goyle, wand aimed at Ron.
"Buckland," Ron said, "Thought you had better things to—"
"You're that damn assistant of that blasted Auditor!" Buckland shouted.
Harry grateful the eyes were distracted at Ron and the Auror as Hermione gathered a few fragments of his clothes.
"Put yer wands away," Hagrid said as he came out of the hut, "No dragons today."
Buckland withdrew his wand as Ron's left took his. Harry understood, Ron didn't want the wand vanishing.
"Reparo!" Hermione muttered, tried to stitch Harry's clothes back together.
"How touching—" Malfoy sneered, his eyes on Hermione.
"Twenty five points from Slytherin," Hagrid said.
Harry felt the breeze, the sun, as he stood there, the charm having kept him warm.
"Hiding behind that oaf—?" Malfoy snapped.
"Make that fifty and a detention," Hagrid said.
"Paid off the Aurors yet?" Ron asked of Malfoy.
"Twenty points Ron," Hagrid said.
"Favoritism—" Malfoy protested.
"There is no door outside," Hagrid said to Malfoy, "Staying will cost yeh thirty points a minute."
Malfoy stormed up to the castle.
"Don't let Malfoy get to yeh," Hagrid told Ronald.
Harry grinned, put his hands beneath his armpits as he crossed his arms.
"Let you go back—" Hagrid started.
"I'm fine," Harry stated.
Harry quickly understood his reason, not simply one of defiance, a reason Harry felt was more than adequate until class was over.
…
Harry renewed the warming charm, helped fend off the cold breeze across his bare skin, as him, Ron, and Hermione headed back to the castle after Hagrid's lesson.
"Should've gone back—" Hermione said.
"Wasn't going to give them the satisfaction," Harry quipped.
Harry felt it better to not say the other reason, the one he caught from every glance, his predicament seemed to cut through the emotional armor, bred a bit of sympathy for him; only time could tell whether that would lead to a better situation for him. He caught another glance from Parvati walking past, her eyes on him.
"Lets see," Ron said as he took the schedule into his hands, "Harry, you get to visit the Headmaster. Otherwise, it's a study period—bang in the library Hermione?"
"Hmph!" Hermione snapped.
"Well," Ron said, "Thought I'd ask."
They walked the trodden trail in the snow, climbed up the steps, entered.
"Hey Ron!" Wood exclaimed from the top of the stairs, "I hear you need to discuss—"
"Sure," Ron said, "Guess you'll have to wait Hermione."
Hermione snorted. Harry and Hermione went up the marble stairs.
"Glad you got my note," said Madam Pomfrey, at the top of the stairs.
"What note?" Harry asked.
"This way Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Excuse me?" Harry said, "I'm—"
"It will be easier on yourself if you cooperate," Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes on his.
Harry felt an untrained projection, one that tried to instill a sense of compliance.
"You're going in," Hermione said, her left hand reached fast, gripped his hand and tugged.
"What?" Harry stammered as Hermione's pull led him into the Hospital Wing.
"You left against medical advice and have been missing for weeks," Madam Pomfrey said as they came to a bed.
"I know exactly where I was!" Harry protested, "Wasn't lost—"
"I'm certain of that," Madam Pomfrey said as she waived her wand over him, "If you wish to protest, discuss the matter with your Headmaster. He has the right to order any student in attendance into the Hospital Wing for examination and treatment."
"I feel fine," Harry protested, the wand that went over him.
"There's more," Hermione asked, "Isn't there?"
"I'm sorry Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, "Your committee ordered you to partake in an examination from some specialist. Therefore, Hogwarts is required to ensure that you make it to the appointment." She lowered her voice. "Any further cooperation is up to you."
Harry sighed as Madam Pomfrey brought out a small tub of cream.
"Madam Pomfrey," said the short but modestly built wizard in white and hair of purple, as he came out of her office. He flashed a badge and a piece of parchment at Harry, faster than Harry could read it as he approached. "I take it that this is Mr. Potter. Just head this way—"
"When I am finished!" Madam Pomfrey said, "We took this opportunity to perform a routine examination ourselves prior to your visit. You sir, must wait, he'll be along shortly."
Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, the privacy curtains marched in close, Hermione stood next to the bed.
"You'll need to apply this ointment—" Madam Pomfrey started.
Harry read the desire for a cover–up, and Harry complied.
"Ointment?" Harry stammered.
"I do see some pimples starting to blossom," Madam Pomfrey said, "That one on your nose is destined to become really ugly—"
"Alright!" Harry said, eyes wider than usual.
"Contagious pimples," Madam Pomfrey said, "Apply liberally in the affect region—wash in the morning." Harry spotted the understanding that Gia would also need it.
"Here," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed the jar over.
Harry put the jar into his book–bag, stood.
"Your uniform?" Madam Pomfrey whispered.
"Jinxed," Harry replied, "I'd rather offend—"
"Don't keep Mr. Durlocks waiting," Madam Pomfrey said.
Harry walked between the curtains, into the small lecture room with plush chairs. Durlocks pointed at Hermione, two feet behind Harry.
"This is to be a private examination," Durlocks said, "Between me and him, not some mudblood. Please leave."
Harry spotted one of Fred's Extensible Ears in Hermione's hand, he nodded and she backed away; could see Madam Pomfrey joining in before they ducked behind the closed door, the ear at the base.
"Have a seat," Durlocks said.
"No," Harry said as he leaned back against the podium, crossed his legs and his arms.
"That's not going to make this go any shorter," Durlocks stated.
Harry couldn't quite read those blue eyes, the ones that clearly were sizing him up, but devoid of the impression it made upon the man. Durlocks took his arm off his notes, a Quick Quotes Quill began to work on the paper.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Subject: Harry Potter
Need to inquire regarding anger management, self control, and behavioral issues. Staff acquiesced to demand for urgent treatment of acne, a harmless and common ailment among teenagers. Potter is frightened of pimples.
"Now," Durlocks said, his eyes glanced into Harry's—
Harry felt it, those eyes that penetrated, the attack. Harry focused upon the Quidditch Cup from many years ago.
"I am Douglas Durlocks and I work for your guidance committee," Durlocks said, "I work as a Youth Counselor and Behavioral Therapist at St. Mungo's. Now, the questions I will ask are quite personal and we'll uncover things that you won't even tell your closest of friends—"
Harry felt the blue eyes reasserting, penetrating for a topic.
"Why should I tell you?!" Harry demanded, "Why would I tell a complete stranger—"
"I am your committee!" Durlocks said, "You're obligated to willingly and fully participate in this examination to our satisfaction so that—"
Harry felt the eyes trying to elicit cooperation, to tickle more tidbits out. Harry focused most of his thoughts on his first flight on his Firebolt, and his emotions took control of his tongue.
"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, "You're a dolt if you believe any of what you're writing—!"
"Quite before I have to confine—" Durlocks warned.
"You bully—!" Harry started.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Subject displays difficulty with anger management, becomes emotional without reason.
"I have every reason to—" Harry shouted, "You manipulative bastard!"
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Subject resents proper supervision.
"Improper—" Harry spat at Durlocks' feet.
"Imperio!" Durlocks had his wand aimed at Harry.
Harry felt the control that tried to invade, and he shook it off enough to have his own wand in his hand, the spell silently uttered, and Durlocks' wand flew into Harry's hand. Durlocks' eyes went wide, trained on Harry.
"I'm leaving," Harry said as he stopped his lean, stood, "Never cross my path again."
Harry spotted the quill write.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Subject displaying arrogance and attributes of Dark Wizard. He may be experimenting with Unforgivables on self. Clearly out of control and mentally imbalanced. Morals are questionable at best.
Pfffpt!
Harry wished it were more, but didn't loiter to find out. He dropped Durlocks' wand to the floor, and stepped for the door.
"This isn't over Potter!" Durlocks shouted.
Harry shook his butt, flipped Durlocks off, and went out the door.
"Harry!" Hermione said.
"Unforgivables are illegal," Harry stated as he grabbed his book–bag from her, "It's over."
Hermione followed as Harry left the Hospital wing.
"They're not going to like that," Hermione said.
"Nope," Harry said, "I…" A screaming came to his ears. "Hear that?"
Hermione and Harry ran. They came to the empty classroom, glanced in, to see nobody inside.
"Could've been a ghost," Hermione suggested.
"Yeah," Harry said as they left, "Likely was."
Meanwhile, Ron went down the ground floor corridor at the same time that Harry and Hermione were entering the Hospital Wing.
"I figured we need to talk," Wood said to Ron, waving Ron into the small office.
Ron took off his cloak, set it on his book–bag.
"Was hoping for Harry—" Wood said.
"Him and the Hospital Wing," Ron said as he loosened his tie.
"When is that never true?" Wood said as he poured a couple cups of tea.
Ron sipped at one cup as he sat.
"Lost track of how many times he worried me when I was captain," Wood said, before he sipped at the other.
"Harry's walking, talking, and not bleeding," Ron said, "Nah, think they're paranoid he might've stubbed his toe and not said anything."
Ron felt the same annoyance Harry had, the desire for the Headmaster to encase Harry in bubbles, for Harry's own good, of course.
"Any improvement to your…predicament?" Wood asked.
Ron shook his head.
"Don't get caught practicing Dark Arts during a match," Wood said.
"We're not!" Ron said, "Sure, it'd improve our odds, so long as we're not suspended, but I do think the rule book has something about murdering the opponent, bit fuzzy."
"Not funny," Wood said, "Professor McGonagall suggested we have a little chat."
"We've got impostors intent on making trouble for us—not if, but when," Ron said, "The team needs to practice, play, without me or Harry, but I don't want to step down, quit the team, nor does Harry."
"Who, on the team, would you trust to run things in your and Harry's absence?" Wood asked.
"Ginny," Ron said, figuring he could rely on his baby sister, "Or you."
"I was captain so I understand, but I'm now supposed to be impartial," Wood said, "It'll have to be a standing offer to all teams, to assist at practices, including any led by Ginny should you be unavailable."
"Ta," Ron said.
"I know you're being wronged," Wood said, "But don't be afraid to pass the position onto somebody else if that's in the better interests of the team."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Ron said.
A chime from a nearby clock.
"Promised Professor McGonagall I'd cover her next class," Wood said as his hands went to a stack of papers, "Have you seen a syllabus on my desk?"
"No," Ron replied as Wood shuffled them.
"Glad we got things sorted out," Wood said, "Later."
Ron lumped his cloak onto his book–bag, slung the strap over his shoulder as he stood.
"Yeah," Ron said as he turned for the door, "Later."
Ron left the office, made it halfway down the corridor, turned a corner when Ron found himself gasping for air as a pair of hands along with a string ran around his throat, cinching it tight and closed.
"Die!" came the retort, as the arms squeezed tight onto his chest.
Light–headedness came fast as the face came to view, the scar, the face belonging to the strangling hands, with bottle green eyes that Ron's gazed into, a penetrating glance to the hatred before he blacked out.
"How much time do you require to clean out your desk?" the Headmaster asked, in his office, from behind his desk.
"I must be careful to get everything," Lupin said, standing in front of the eloquent sculpted wood, "At least a week, maybe more."
"Thank you for your consultation," Professor Dumbledore said, knowing Lupin understood the reasoning behind the request.
Lupin turned around, went for the door. No sooner had Professor Dumbledore reached for a quill, that he heard the familiar chime, people were on the stairs coming up.
"All these interruptions!" the Headmaster grumbled at Fawkes.
His quill went back into the holder as the doors opened. Harry and Hermione carried the stretcher, on which a shirtless Ron laid, Madam Pomfrey came in with them.
"He was attacked, strangled," Harry said, "Couldn't think of any place better."
Harry and Hermione helped lift Ron over to the mattress that Madam Pomfrey conjured up, set the red head down on it.
"Is he—?" the Headmaster started.
"Will he be alright?" Hermione asked.
Harry spun to face Ron.
"Fortunately," Madam Pomfrey said, "Oliver came across him in time."
"He's waking," Harry announced.
Ron's blue eyelids fluttered open, and he sat up on the mattress; two nipples on the chest.
"Why here?" Ron asked.
Hands shook on his cane as Professor Dumbledore stood, the slow tap as he came over.
"An attempt was made on your life," Professor Dumbledore said, "Poppy, is Mr. Weasley in immediate danger? If not, could you excuse us?"
"I insist on examining him later," Madam Pomfrey said.
Albus spotted the usual love behind Poppy's eyes.
"Of course," the Headmaster said, knew he probably lied because of the next action he would have to take.
Madam Pomfrey left the office.
"Naturally," Professor Dumbledore said as he returned to stand next to his desk, "I am concerned with what occurred."
"It was my neck!" Ron snapped as he stood up.
"Which is why I am concerned," the Headmaster said, "And why I need to know what happened."
"After I left Wood's office," Ron said, "It was…sorry about this Harry." Ron's blue eyes glanced at Harry's, "Your impostor—he did look just like you."
"It's not a beauty contest," Harry quipped.
"No," Ron said.
"You would have been rendered unconscious in a matter of seconds," Professor Dumbledore said, "How can you be certain? It is not like you had tea and biscuits with your attacker."
"As Tonks found out," Ron said, "I know my Harry's—pardon—"
"Unfortunately," the Headmaster said, "I am not permitted to distinguish between the predator and prey where you three are concerned. Therefore you will be suspended—to return on Thursday. Not right, but so ordered."
"It is unfair," Harry stated.
"At least we both agree on that point," Professor Dumbledore said, "Recent events suggest that you have been lying to me, especially when combined with prior behavior. I need the truth as I adjust protections based on the threats—I only have a handful that I can rely upon, a number that no longer include you, because you clearly stated that you dumped Miss. Prescott—"
"That Umbridge bitch required that I tell you that Gia was not my girlfriend, which I made true, as ordered," Harry said, "However, you need not worry about protecting me, I can take care of myself!"
"I disagree," Professor Dumbledore said, unusually firm in his voice, "You had one friend strangled today!"
"Hogwarts is supposed to be safe!" Ron snapped.
"Dozens of students have directly experienced that to not be the case," Professor Dumbledore said, "And many more fear that they will be the next victims of your impostors. As promised, your liberties will be curtailed and I must know your intended locations at all times—"
"No," Harry stated. Ron and Hermione drew around him. "You preach from the almighty pedestal but this is my life and I want no further interference—" Harry activated the Portkey. "If you wish me to continue at Hogwarts, then that liberty must persist—that is my condition."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione vanished.
"What would you do?" Professor Dumbledore asked Fawkes, "If only the Sorting Hat were still around, I could use the advice."
Professor Dumbledore made it over to the armchair by the fireplace, he sat down, conjured up a tea pot, when the sky blue robes announced the new arrival through the double doors.
"Minister," the Headmaster said as the tall man entered.
Beady eyes turned onto Dumbledore, the anger behind them unmistakable.
"I heard that you—" the Minister pointed at Dumbledore as he spoke, "That you failed to comply with the Potter examination."
"We provided the opportunity," Dumbledore said, "If that's what you mean."
"Incomplete due to Potter's antics!" the Minister said, "Douglas was in fear for his life while Potter was utterly uncooperative!"
Albus Dumbledore glanced at the teapot, wondered if he should be rude to pour a cup only for himself in front of the Minister.
"Hogwarts respects patient doctor confidentiality," Albus Dumbledore said, as he knew the Minister and committee did not, "As a rule, I do not sit in on examinations."
"You were supposed to ensure he completed the examination," Fallerschain said.
"I ensured Mr. Potter showed up as required, which he did," Dumbledore said, "His cooperation in a satisfactory examination was his choice." Dumbledore didn't need a crystal ball to foresee this outcome given Harry's distaste for medical examinations.
"Where's Potter now?" the Minister demanded.
"Suspended," Dumbledore said, "If you wish to to talk to Mr. Potter, at Hogwarts, you will have to wait until Thursday to do so."
"Why was Mr. Potter suspended?" Fallerschain asked.
"His friend Mr. Weasley was attacked in the corridors," Dumbledore said.
"I assume Mr. Potter played a role in it," Fallerschain said.
"No," Dumbledore said, "Mr. Potter did not play a role, Mr. Weasley clearly identified the assailant as being an impostor of Mr. Potter."
"So," Fallerschain said, "You disregarded innocence and suspended—"
"The whole point of that resolution two months ago was to strip me of that decision," Dumbledore said, "I cannot declare him innocent as I know him to be, instead, I'm required unilaterally to suspend Mr. Potter and his friends even if, as in this case, they get attacked."
"Where are they now?" Fallerschain asked.
"In a safe location that is physically and magically isolated from Hogwarts," the Headmaster said, "They cannot return to the castle."
"You imprisoned them?" the Minister asked.
"Isolated from Hogwarts, not jailed in Azkaban," Dumbledore said, "They could visit Diagon Alley, even Hogsmeade, or any other point in the Isle of their choosing, so long as it's not Hogwarts. Any attempt, by them, of returning to Hogwarts has the penalty of expulsion and my personal disappointment—a worse punishment in their eyes."
"I need to verify that they're in a safe location!" Fallerschain demanded.
"Many of the population are unaware of the location of Azkaban," Dumbledore said, "Yet they assume it's secure based on the word of the Ministry and legend. You can rest assured on my word that Mr. Potter and friends cannot harm a student while suspended."
"I want Potter," Fallerschain said.
"I'm unable to produce him," Dumbledore said, "While he's suspended, he is outside of my authority."
"We will be discussing this with the Board of Governors," Fallerschain said.
"That is your prerogative," Dumbledore said.
Fallerschain went to the fireplace and vanished.
"Good riddance," Dumbledore muttered. Though, he felt the Floo Powder was wasted on the Minister.
Dumbledore's hands shook as he poured the cup of tea, tried to bring it to his lips, a bit spilled.
"Albus," said McGonagall as she entered the Headmaster's office, "You're shaking."
Lupin followed her back into the office.
"Everything we've worked for is falling apart on account of teenage hormones and a Minister breathing down my neck," Dumbledore said, "On one hand, we have a minister irate that Mr. Potter stuck it to the committee and curtailed his examination short—I was not startled by that outcome. On the other hand, they used their Portkey before I managed to confiscate them, thereby cutting a serious discussion short."
"If the students cannot be well behaved under our scrutiny," McGonagall said, "Then we cannot teach them and have nothing to offer them. Therefore, direct and persistent insubordination is just cause for expulsion—I am sorry to say might be appropriate."
Dumbledore sighed, put the tea cup down on the adjacent end table—untouched.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "You may as well enter, same with you Nymph."
Snape and Tonks entered.
"I prefer my surname," Tonks said.
"You have a beautiful name—" McGonagall said.
"Too many syllables and easily changed into nastier comments," Tonks said.
"Insubordination and not following rules sounds uncharacteristic for Potter," Snape said, dryly and clear he was less interested in the side–debate, "I still recommend expulsion."
"Under normal circumstances," Dumbledore said, "I would have accepted their resignation months ago. Under normal circumstances, the events that led to today's insubordination would not have occurred. Under normal circumstances, they would be blissfully in class for the day. Circumstances are not normal for Mr. Potter."
"While you've been avid in keeping them on," Snape said, "Given the damage being inflicted on the school's reputation, perhaps it might be better to let them leave."
"You want better odds for the Quidditch Cup!" McGonagall snapped.
Dumbledore let out a small grin, a brief spot of levity appreciated.
"I'm being practical," Snape said, "Assaults and even their lives are in danger. It is disrupting the academic progress of our pupils. I was under the impression that this was a school."
"We know about the prophecy," Tonks said, "Is that enough to stake everything on?"
"You wouldn't question it if you knew the entire prophecy," Dumbledore said, "I've already had to persuade Mr. Potter to remain in attendance, because he shares your sentiments and concerns. If he were an ordinary student, he'd remain of his own volition, however, it's clear that somebody else is trying force Mr. Potter out, and I give you one guess as to who is behind it."
"If we released Potter," Snape said, "The incidents would cease."
"A shortsighted measure that would prove temporary at best," Dumbledore said, "It'd embolden the perpetrators as they'd know it'd work on us, I'd expect a repeat."
"You're sounding ominous," Tonks said.
"It is," Dumbledore said, "Even a year or two delay would irreparably harm Mr. Potter, and Voldemort already has the upper hand. Right now, sending Mr. Potter to fight Voldemort would be a slaughter, Harry's slaughter."
"You could defeat Voldemort yourself," McGonagall said, "Or train us."
"If only it were that simple," Dumbledore said, "Per the prophecy, only Mr. Potter, alone, can defeat Voldemort, and both of them know that. Mr. Potter has started to clobber me with it."
"Surprise, surprise," Snape said.
"Mr. Potter is the victim," Dumbledore said, "Played up to be a dark wizard in training. And the Minister, being a good politician, knows cutting taxes and declaring Voldemort as dead is very popular. To the Minister, Mr. Potter seems to be making himself Voldemort's replacement, and we certainly don't want a second Voldemort, now, do we?"
"Harry wants to hide under a rock, wait for this all to pass, at least that's my impression," Lupin said, "Sounds like a typical sixteen year old to me."
"A sixteen year old that has lied about his romantic aspirations," Dumbledore said, "I asked for greater cooperation, so we can protect them, and they fled."
"Protect him with whom?" Tonks said, "We're already stretched thin as it is."
"Perhaps we should take Potter at his word," Snape said.
A bell sounded.
"I believe classes are about to begin," McGonagall said.
Snape and Tonks left the office.
"You made Severus' day," Lupin said to McGonagall.
"Their points are valid," McGonagall said, "What are we going to do with Mr. Potter?"
"We pretend these three are ordinary when they are not," Dumbledore said, "Time and energy has been invested, we've been forced to put all of our eggs into that single basket, only to have it disintegrate."
"Maybe," Lupin said, "You're treating Harry as that infant you placed on a doorstep years ago, but they're now teenagers, adolescents who question authority—even yours because that's nature. I suggest we learn to treat them as such."
"Mr. Potter waltzed off," McGonagall said.
"Think you know Harry?" Lupin said, "He was ordered to breakup—maybe he's lying because he thinks that's protecting you, Albus? Don't judge until we have all the evidence."
"Let Mr. Potter off the hook?" McGonagall asked.
"All three of them seem resolved to defeat Voldemort, right?" Lupin said, "We expect them to take on Voldemort but won't let them manage their own security? Let them handle it."
"I'm not abandoning Harry," Dumbledore stated.
"Nor am I—none of us are," Lupin said, "We do know the Death Eaters scoured the lands for Harry but were not successful, so Harry does know how to hide. We need to train them up so we don't have to protect them; until then, we keep a guard in that town, at a distance, to assist if needed, and a place of safe retreat."
Dumbledore paused, his mind still mulling over the idea.
"The poison?" McGonagall asked.
"It can cloud the mind at times," Dumbledore said, "And it's a bit slower—I mean everything else is speeding up."
Lupin snorted, glanced at McGonagall's shaking head.
"I hope James and Lily can forgive us," Lupin said, "But they didn't leave us an easy kid."
Hermione watched Harry as the Portkey carried them away from Hogwarts.
"Dumbledore's going to be pissed," Ron said.
"No kidding!" Harry snapped as they landed in Gia's bedroom, in Noigate.
Hermione caught the glimpse of Harry, at Ron's neck, where the red welts across it stood out.
"Sorry," Harry said.
"So," Ron asked as he dropped his trousers, "What else did you figure out?"
"Heard Woods shouting," Harry said, "We caught up with him bringing you into the Hospital Wing—but none of us were easy, realized Dumbledore's office was the safest, brought you there as she treated you."
Hermione moved around the bed, put her book–bag down, removed her shirt.
"What'd you get?" Harry asked.
"Anger," Ron said.
"Really?" Hermione snapped.
"Should I go back and wait for another attack so I can ask?" Ron asked her.
"Making for our shortest term yet," Hermione said.
"You got what you wanted," Ron stated, "A term's worth of essays."
"Essays?" Hermione demanded as she glared at him, "That's all you think about me?"
"No," Harry said as he stepped between her and Ron, "Friend and girl describe you well." Harry leaned in. "Though essays are still on the list."
"Hmph!" Hermione exclaimed.
His eyes on her, Harry moved a bit closer.
"We love you," Harry said as he hugged her.
"Your ointment, remember?" Hermione asked.
"Ta," Harry said as he stepped back.
"I'm hungry," Ron complained as his stomach growled.
"Food downstairs," Harry said, "Muggle house, remember?"
"Of course I remember!" Ron snapped.
"Essays are better done downstairs too," Hermione said, as she grabbed Ron by the shoulders and pushed.
Harry snorted, snickered, as he grabbed the ointment jar from his book–bag. Ron and Hermione went out the door, down the steps. Hermione followed Ron into the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator.
"Something's bothering you?" Hermione said.
"Harry," Ron said as he held a tub of left over macaroni and cheese, "I got strangled by his impostor—he's going to stop eating, again."
Ron put the tub into the microwave, turned the dial, and it came to life
"I've…" Hermione started, but it clicked with her too, their fourth year with the tournament, other times.
"Clearly Gia did enough to get him to eat at that resort," Ron said, "He doesn't eat when stressed, and I don't think Dumbledore helped with that."
"Would he refuse a pizza?" Hermione asked.
"Give it a try," Ron said.
"I'll go ask him," Hermione said.
Hermione went into the dining room, set her book–bag down, and left for the stairs. She walked into a bedroom with Hedwig, and an open jar of the white ointment on the bed.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted.
"What's this for?" Ron asked as he came in behind her, held the jar.
"He obviously had fun on his holiday," Hermione said, "Picked up…" Hermione didn't want to spill everything, though Ron's twinkling eyes seemed to understand, as Ron closed the jar.
Hoot!
"Hedwig," Ron said to the snowy white bird on top of the package from that morning, "Do you know where Harry went to?"
Hermione snorted.
"Ten to one odds he went to visit her," Ron said, "Didn't even bother to tell us."
Ron set the jar down on the desk. He turned to Hermione.
"Mind?" Ron asked, his fingers to the buttons on her blouse.
"You want—" Hermione started.
"I should do the essays," Ron said, "This'd make them go smoother.
"I'm sure," Hermione snapped.
Ron leaned in, kissed, his hands to her shoulders and rubbed in. Ron's fingers moved, undid the buttons, his hands went beneath the fabric. Her hands went to his back, went up and felt the shoulder blades as he moved.
"Curse them off?" Ron asked, "Or slow way?"
"Slow," Hermione whispered.
Fingers to her belt, the clasp came off, and they went to her button. Relief as the tension of the trousers was released, and they slid down her legs. Thumbs beneath her panties, his tongue pressed against hers, and her knickers lowered. She felt the characteristic press of him on her skin.
"Essay, one essay first," Hermione said, "Complete it, and we can continue."
"Hermione!" Ron said as she pushed him back, "That's unfair!"
"Motivation," Hermione quipped, "Yes, motivation so you don't flunk out. Could you imagine Malfoy taunting you then?"
"Hitting where it hurts," Ron muttered as he grabbed his book–bag.
"Downstairs," Hermione said, "I care about my friends, remember?"
They left the bedroom. Her feet missed the carpet as they went down the wooden steps, made the hard right, continued into the dining room.
"Other side," Hermione directed as she walked between the wall and the table.
"That's…" Ron started.
"Play with that if you want," Hermione said as she sat next to her book bag, "But you'll be disappointed in losing out later."
Hermione glanced past Ron into the kitchen for a moment, before she pulled out her parchment and ink jar. She grabbed her Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six, and figured she'd get the easy ones done first. She caught a hint of his armpits as his arms moved to get his Potions book out.
"It'd go better—" Ron started.
"Study," Hermione said, though she did wonder where Harry had gotten off to.
"You skipped yesterday," Lisa said to Gia as they crossed the path from Smeltings back to their campus. Snuffles panted in the cold air, his steam billowed out.
"He didn't go back to school until today," Gia said, "And what's this about a rose?"
"Show you after gym," Lisa said.
Ring!
Gia and Lisa jogged, the shoes weird to Gia after weeks without them, through the grid of portable classrooms, and entered one. Lights already dim, the man in a suit with a green tie, Mr. Ryder glared at them, as the screen lit up from a reel to reel projector in the back.
"Napoleon Wars…"
Lisa took the available desk, Gia went for the open one in the back.
Pop!
"Not another bulb!" Ryder complained as the projector cut out.
Gia turned, the figure discernible in the dimly lit classroom, jet black hair, and bottle green eyes penetrating into hers.
"Harry—" Gia whispered.
"Shh," Harry quipped.
Harry pulled up a chair, slid it next to the other, and they sat.
"School?" Gia whispered.
"Long story," Harry whispered as he put his head down on the table.
The screen came back to life. Gia fingered Harry.
"You're…" she whispered.
"Talk later," Harry whispered, his hands held her arm.
An hour later, the bell rang as Napoleon surrendered at Waterloo. They all got up.
"When did he—?" Lisa asked as Gia and Harry left the classroom into the cold afternoon beneath the cloudy sky.
Snuffles followed behind them.
"It's him," Gia said, figuring best to not say magic, "Likes to show up with stealth."
Harry renewed the warming charm in the cold of the evening, both on himself and Gia. Ron and Hermione followed Harry's lead as they walked along Fredrick Court to the intersection with Main, across from the Constabulary, and approached the primary school.
"How long will those welts last?" Gia asked.
"A day or two," Hermione said.
"A potion—" Ron started.
"Madam Pomfrey didn't want to risk it—" Hermione started.
"See?" Ron said, "I pass out and they hold a serious conversation—"
"You already knew the important part—!" Hermione snapped.
"Can it!" Harry said, "Ron survived—end of story."
Harry didn't want to let it go, the red welts a strong reminder of the risks he'd dragged Ron into, however, he didn't feel like shouting it out to the world as they left the darkness of the evening and entered the school's lit gymnasium. They went to where the wooden floor was covered with thick blue mats. Kristen's eyes on them as they came to the crowd around the center; in the similar blue sweats to theirs.
"I was wondering if you'd show," Kristen stated.
"Had a reminder today," Ron said.
"Those welts—" Kristen said, as she stepped close, her hand reached out to his.
"Rough day at school," Ron stated.
Kristen stepped back to the center.
"Welcome to Self–Defense I," Kristen said, "This is one of many courses coordinated through the community affairs office of the Noigate Constabulary. In any situation, avoidance of a physical conflict is desirable, however, some of you may find yourselves in situations where you have exhausted all other possibilities. To my side is Garrett Tremble, a qualified instructor from the Royal Army."
"Thank you for that introduction," Tremble said, "For those who think this will be an easy course, there's the door. Some of you are training to be officers, others are not, so you won't always have the option to back down from a fight, and we're here to help prepare you for that."
An hour later, the group paused for a short breather. Harry and Ron both panted as they leaned against the retracted bleachers; both dripping sweat that was beading down them.
"While today motivated you," Harry said, "You signed us up yesterday."
"Have you not been paying attention for, like, months?" Ron said, "It's bound to get nastier—perhaps you're supposed to defeat You–Know–Who by punching him in the noggin?"
Harry laughed, and they went for the drinking fountain; before they returned to the group.
"Need a volunteer," Tremble said, as he pointed to Ron.
Ron stepped forward.
"Try to take me down," Tremble said.
Harry watched as Ron grabbed the hand. Tremble pulled Ron over, onto his back, and feet up in the air.
"Lets practice some more," Tremble said.
Harry kept sweating as he trained against people twice his size, until an hour later, when he left the primary school a quarter after nine.
Harry reissued the warming charm on Gia, and they walked along Fredrick Court. Ron and Hermione followed behind Harry and Gia. Kristen ran and caught up with them.
"You lot show promise," Kristen said, walking to Harry's left, "Though I'm not sure how you incapacitated two—"
"Huh?" Harry asked, glad the warming charm kept the frostbite away as his right hand held Gia's left.
"Richard and Ant were fighting," Ron said from behind Harry, "I had to act to stop bloodshed."
"You never said—" Harry started.
"You came back last night!" Ron said, "Hadn't had a chance to tell you everything that happened."
"Speaking of that," Kristen said, "Gia, it's nice to see you're back."
"It was fun," Gia said, "But also nice to be back."
"My heart adopted you the moment you moved in," Kristen said, "I do care what happens to you, so vanishing made me worry."
"Sorry," Gia said.
"Remember that a good defense requires you to be proactive," Kristen said, "Let people know when and where you're going for a trip, tell them so they can raise the alarm—"
"Harry shouldn't be telling anybody—" Ron started.
"That'd expose…" Harry stopped his tongue, the dread of Dumbledore popping in, or somebody else wasn't what he wanted.
"You two seem downright paranoid," Kristen said, "I frequently go into risky situations—that is part of my job—and though I know I can handle anything that comes my way, I always call for backup."
"But secrecy can help with safety," Harry stated.
"Only if you expect to be mobbed," Kristen said, "I did talk to Garrett and he was impressed by Harry—all of you were wonderful too, but on Harry, I was accused of bringing in a ringer—I think he was humoring me. You have talent Harry. Though all of you seemed well motivated."
"Have to forgive her," Ron said of Hermione, "Can't pick it up out of a—Hey!"
Harry caught it in the corner of his eye, Hermione jabbed Ron in the stomach.
"Was your trip at least fun?" Kristen asked Gia.
"Yes," Gia said, "Harry and I—we needed the time, to ourselves."
Harry knew Gia to be sweet talking, omitting the details.
"Next time," Kristen said as they walked past a stale missing poster of Gia, "Please keep me advised."
They came back to 26 Oak Street, and entered. Harry went up the steps, while Gia wandered off with Kristen. Harry noticed the brown hair following him as he spotted the pair of letters on the desk, both addressed to him.
"What'd you know," Harry said, "Mail."
Harry opened the first, an ordinary envelope of parchment.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry,
It is clear our arrangement is not working out and Dumbledore can make better use of my talent in other locations. Don't take unnecessary risks.
Snuffles
"He plays with a werewolf and he's lecturing me on risks?" Harry exclaimed.
"What are you going to do about Gia?" Hermione asked.
"Well, have to…" Harry stopped, he couldn't be in two places at once unless he got a time turner, which would raise questions he'd rather not have to answer.
Harry put his left arm around Hermione, held her, smiled for a moment, before she handed the second envelope to Harry, one addressed in emerald green ink. Hermione opened the envelope, handed it to his right hand.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mr. Potter,
I am disappointed by your display today. I thought you respected me and my judgment. I am sorry to have been so mistaken. Henceforth, any and all protections surrounding yourself is your responsibility and shall bear the consequences when they prove insufficient.
I also consider your repeated threats as extortion and I do not look upon them kindly.
Dumbledore
"He's right," Hermione said, "You're repeating—"
"If that's how he thinks," Harry said, the rage brewing inside him, "I can fix that!"
Harry sat on the chair as he grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill. He drafted his reply.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dumbledore
You're delusional if you consider my warnings to be threats. I apologize for your misunderstanding so let me make this clear.
I QUIT!
Harry Potter
"Harry!" Hermione quipped.
Harry folded the letter, put it into a parchment envelope, and addressed it.
"Sorry, has to be done," Harry said as he went over to Hedwig, attached the note to her, "Go!"
Hedwig flew out of the window, left. Harry moved back, sat cross–legged on the bed, and. Harry'd really done it, felt a bit of a relief, but also the disappointment and guilt, because he knew his parents would've wanted to see him through Hogwarts.
"I doubt Professor Dumbledore is going to like that," Hermione said, "However, you may be a tad rash—"
"Am I?" Harry said, his eyes going up to her brown eyes, "Look at Ron's neck! Most of those students agree—my mere presence endangers them all! It's better for the school for me to leave."
Harry laid back on the bed, stared up at the ceiling. Hermione sat next to his head, a reminder to Harry that she too had suffered because of him. Harry didn't really want to quit, but it was for the best, and it's solve how to protect Gia.
An hour later, Dumbledore read the response drafted by McGonagall, the letter that was laying on his desk.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mr. Potter,
Any student wishing to resign must do so in person to either the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress. Said resignation would become official after a mandatory seven day waiting period.
The courtesy of an exit interview is requested by your Head of House so we may get a thorough evaluation concerning the quality of your education at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall will be visiting at the next suitable opportunity.
"Fortunately," Dumbledore said as he brought a quill to sign the letter, "I do not believe that Mr. Potter has actually read the rules and regulations of Hogwarts."
"It was all I could think of," McGonagall said, "I hope we can convince him otherwise."
"I am at a loss myself," Dumbledore said, "We have tried both the carrot and the stick—though to be honest, expecting extraordinary restraint from Mr. Potter—I doubt I had the stamina in my youth that he has been demonstrating. If he were an ordinary student, I would have expelled him purely for the safety of the students of Hogwarts and made arrangements for private tutoring."
"Perhaps we should try," McGonagall said, "I will make inquiries."
"Thank you Minerva," Dumbledore said, "Helpful as always."
"It'd be better if you took Poppy's advice," McGonagall said.
"None of us have the time," Dumbledore said, "Hedwig, girl, here's the reply."
Snowy white, Hedwig hopped onto the desk, waited for Dumbledore to attach, before she flew off.
"At least get some rest," McGonagall said.
"Think I'll accept the offer," Dumbledore said as he stood, shook on his cane, went for the lift.
"I'll never get used to that contraption," McGonagall said as the platform carried Dumbledore up the steps, "Good night."
McGonagall left the office as Dumbledore entered the bedroom. Dumbledore knew he had his work ready for him, that Ron was moments away from being murdered at Hogwarts—Mrs. Weasley would never forgive him.
"Should've seen them!" the Seeker said, "I had a chance at Potter's pet rat, and I took it."
"You could spin that?" Wormtail asked the Keeper.
"It would be a shame if Potter's dabbling in Dark Arts cost his friend," the Keeper said, "Maybe they were trying to make a necromancer out of him?"
"See?" the Seeker said, "It'd all work out."
"Avoid killing at Hogwarts," the Keeper said, "Blood makes every parent nervous."
"And so they shall remain—nervous," the Seeker said, "Potter's suspension is to end, when? Thursday?"
"He should return from wherever he's being kept, yes," the Keeper said.
"I'll keep it simple," the Seeker promised.