In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 68: Wake
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Harry was shaken back awake in the late morning. Hermione stood there.
"Minimal disturbance—you slept with him!" Hermione snapped.
Harry glanced at Ron, heard the shallow breaths.
"Wanted to make sure…" Harry said.
"Well," Hermione said, "Madam Pomfrey's here to examine him, and if you don't move, she'll check you too."
"As I promised," Madam Pomfrey said as she entered, "Though if you're excessively tired, I should check you."
"No," Harry stated, "Check Ron—any phoenix tears to help his head trauma?"
"Dr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as she checked Ron with her wand, "His health is mine to determine."
Hermione sat on the bed, on top of Harry's legs beneath the blankets, and she too, watched Madam Pomfrey work.
"Perhaps phoenix tears will work—if we had any," Madam Pomfrey said, "I hate these types of injuries, I hate them, for it's slow and doesn't respond well to magic, if at all. We have to wait and see if he heals on his own."
"Prognosis?" Hermione asked.
"Speculation," Madam Pomfrey said, "Odds would be better at St. Mungo's."
Madam Pomfrey tapped her Portkey, vanished.
"I'm going back to sleep," Harry advised, "Do not disturb me."
Harry rolled onto his side, eyes focused on Ron's ear lobe.
"Harry—that's no way to react," Hermione said, "Study the Healing Book with me, see if there's a way we could help."
"Try the Ministry Handbooks," Harry said, "Maybe they have something. Best thing for Ron is for me to sleep."
Hermione bent over the shelf, pulled out a book, which she opened, and read.
"Flubberworms must have a length that is between—" Hermione started.
"You're humoring me," Harry quipped.
"Want to know about the tapeworm instead?" Hermione asked.
"Alright," Harry said as he sat.
Harry turned to move his legs over, motioned for her to sit next to him, and she did.
"I wasn't joking when I said Ron was dying, yesterday," Harry said, "Can't explain it, not fully. He reached out to me as we entered the room, the first time."
"He's unconscious," Hermione said.
"Up here," Harry said, his right index finger tapped his temple, "I think. Katra effect, I think, supposedly quite rare. It's a bond I formed with him, a pact. He's borrowing my strength to heal. Catch is, he dies and so do I."
Harry didn't need Legilimency to understand the bewilderment in her eyes.
"You did this?" Hermione asked, "Endanger yourself to help him?"
"He'd already be dead if I hadn't," Harry said, "So, yes, I gambled my life to save his, I raised the stakes to give Ron a chance to survive. So, if you'll excuse my desire to get some rest, because this does tire me out."
"Guess your committee's apology to Ron won't help?" Hermione asked.
"They—?" Harry asked.
"I'm guessing," Hermione said, "Card addressed to him on the desk—could be asking for an autograph."
Harry snorted. Hermione stood, grabbed The Daily Prophet.
"You won't like this," Hermione said.
"Lemme guess," Harry said as he pulled the duvet back over him, Ron to his side.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Thursday, 16 January, 1997
Potter Wreaks Havoc at St. Mungo's
Yesterday, Dark Potter's friend Dark Weasley was brought to St. Mungo's for some self–inflicted injury. Dark Potter showed, made a fuss and racket, and proceeded to punch holes in the building before flying on a broomstick over Muggle London. All of the Ministry Oblivators were sent out in force to cover up for the latest act of Dark Wizardry from Potter. Apparently, castration has not tempered Potter's behavior. Normally, incidents of Underage Wizardry and violation of the secrecy decrees would get the perpetrator expelled from their school of attendance; however, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was also present and endorsed Potter's actions. St. Mungo's Board of Trustees convened an emergency meeting, dismissed outlandish fairy tales of the accused, and issued permanent bans on Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Gia Prescott, Albus Dumbledore, and Alastor "Mad–Eye" Moody; they joined the small list of people who may not enter St. Mungo's Hospital. According to charter, such bans carry the force of law, violations are capital offenses punishable by summary execution. In one night, six people joined this select group that used to be two, the late You–Know–Who and late Grindelwald.
"Dumbledore was impressed," Hermione said, "You're not supposed to be able to punch holes in the wards of St. Mungo's. He held Voldemort off from the room, which gave us time, he was also curious to why the death toll wasn't."
"They were after me," Harry stated, "But their plot won't work if The Daily Prophet announced a sighting of him."
"I'll let you two…get acquainted," Hermione said.
"Hermione!" Harry quipped as she left.
…
Hermione sat back down on the sofa downstairs, brought the Healing book back to her legs, and read.
"Hermione," asked Lupin, standing nearby, "Where's Harry?"
"Upstairs sleeping—keeping Ron company," Hermione said, before she realized she ought to cover, "Sulking is more like it."
"I'll wait until he wakes," Lupin said as he sat, "Figured you might need some help."
"Good at Healing?" Hermione asked.
"Saw the school nurse once a month," Lupin said.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Nothing you can do," Lupin said, "Once destroyed, they're gone."
"I can numb if there's pain," Hermione said, "But that's not what I'm searching for."
"My alter ego picks up on things," Lupin said.
"What makes you think anything's amiss?" Hermione asked, flipping through the pages.
"Trying to challenge me?" Lupin said.
Hermione shook her head.
"Lemme guess," Lupin said, "Harry was subjected to an ordeal whose entry in the penal code comes right before the one dealing with being hung, drawn, and quartered, otherwise it would've been done discreetly in Madam Pomfrey's office. You're rummaging through this Healing book for anything you can use to help either him or Ron. And Ron's laying upstairs in a coma with poor odds—"
"How poor?" Hermione asked.
Hermione flipped the pages even faster, determined to find… she wasn't certain.
"Given that Madam Pomfrey's being evasive," Lupin said, "Means odds aren't good but she refuses to let your hopes down."
"I need something more advanced!" Hermione grumbled, the mental pages thin.
"What's this concern?" Lupin said.
"Harry," Hermione said, "Claims Ron reached out to him at St. Mungo's for help, saved Ron from dying…then. Somehow they're bonded together, live or die together."
Hermione tried reading every word.
"Did he say how?" Lupin asked as he stood.
"Katra—something," Hermione said, "Persuaded me to let him sleep over it, but I can't find any hint…maybe it's wishful thinking."
"I'll get Madam Pomfrey to check Harry," Lupin said, "See if we can terminate—"
"Doubt he'd agree to either," Hermione said, "You know how Harry is, willingness to risk his own life for another. If he did wager it for Ron, I'll chew him out after it's worked."
"I'll look in on them," Lupin said, "Suppose tutoring's out until this is over."
Lupin went up the stairs. Hermione turned back to the first page, read in earnest.
…
Harry tried to sleep, but his mind now raced. He turned, rested himself against Ron, peered into those blue unanswering eyes. Harry wondered if banging were the answer, knew Ron'd get a kick out of it. He turned off Ron as the door opened, one leg slipped out of the duvet.
"Harry," Lupin said, "Might I get a word?"
"Professor," Harry said, keeping the duvet in place.
"Hermione's concerned," Lupin said, "So am I."
"Madam Pomfrey checked him a short while ago," Harry said, "Keeping an eye on him."
"I can see," Lupin said.
"Four people, one bed," Harry said, "Guess we could make other arrangements, but kinda gotten used to it."
"I'm not judging," Lupin said, "Friendship is among your strongest traits, one I'm sure your parents are smiling at."
"Thanks, I guess," Harry said.
HOOT!
"It's not often you outsmart Hermione on trivia," Lupin said, "This katra—what did you call it?"
"Katra Effect," Harry said, "And she shouldn't have said anything."
"She's searching for all references to it as we speak," Lupin said.
Harry snorted, so typical for Hermione.
"You might point her in the right direction," Lupin said.
"What? And spoil her search?" Harry said, "She wants to find it, herself."
"So," Lupin asked, "What is this effect?"
"Dunno exactly," Harry said, "Ron needed a life rope, and I gave it to him." Harry studied the face for a minute. "You believe me?"
"Don't need to," Lupin said, a smile to his face, "I know you would, without hesitation. I'm not a healer, so I'm not skilled here. However, if there's the remotest chance that sharing the bed helps Ron, I'm not going to judge. Maybe it does help his subconscious keep fighting."
Harry spotted the doubt behind those eyes, realized Lupin's trying to entertain, keep the spirits up. Harry figured he wasn't going to stomp on that.
"Thanks for stopping by," Harry said, "Let him know you visited."
Lupin snorted, nodded.
"Take care," Lupin said.
Lupin disapparated and Harry returned to sleep.
Waves crashed against the shore below as Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace into the modest living room wrapped in light orange wallpaper, windows to one side, a small unused deck outside from the level below.
"You said it was urgent?" asked Dumbledore, shaking on his cane, to Lupin sitting in an easy chair overlooking the water. Sirius stood near the windows, turned from his observation out of them.
"Not urgent, I don't think," Lupin said.
"Sorry to have bothered—" Dumbledore started, a gentle spin.
"Except I don't know of reference to the…" Lupin said, "Katra Effect?"
Dumbledore turned back toward Lupin, a term that he had vaguely remembered hearing ages ago.
"Been quite some time since I've heard of it," Dumbledore said.
"I … I've been of no help," Sirius said.
"According to Harry, he did use it with Ron," Lupin said, "Otherwise, Ron doesn't stand a chance."
Dumbledore stared out the window, a fishing boat decorated with Christmas lights, floated past. Took Dumbledore's mind a few more seconds to drag up the recollection of it, and Lily Potter's essay on it. Though she was smart, she didn't have the full knowledge to appreciate it.
"Assuming Harry's correct," Dumbledore said, "Ronald was in such dire need of help and Harry lent his innate self–ability to heal. It's so rare…" He remembered the obscure titles. "I'm skeptical of Harry's assessment."
"One of those handbooks might have it," Sirius said.
"What handbooks?" Dumbledore asked, turned his eyes toward those sullen ones that had endured years in Azkaban.
"Didn't you see them?" Sirius said, "On their bookshelf, from the Ministry."
"I didn't see—you're serious?" Lupin asked.
"I'm Sirius," Sirius replied, his eyes glanced at Lupin on the chair.
"You're not talking about—" Lupin started, his eyes back on Sirius.
"Ministry Mysteries, and others," Sirius said, a flick of his hand took out a knot above his ear.
Dumbledore chuckled when he realized the implication of Harry's collection, the knowledge that the Ministry itself has, condensed down into palatable bite sized articles for their staff to carry out their duties without needing years of training. Knowledge typically withheld from the general population.
"Never cease to amaze in their ability," Dumbledore said, "How many?"
"At least a dozen, maybe more," Sirius said.
"How?" Lupin asked.
"Those handbooks are likely the most heavily charmed and warded objects in existence," Dumbledore said, "Might even outstrip Hogwarts."
"I can't touch them," Lupin said, "I'd be compelled to return them."
"Ron hinted that Percy—" Sirius started.
"Auditors are such a new position," Dumbledore said, "Doubt even the Minister has fully realized the implications. Still, it's heartening to hear that Percy's reaching out to Ronald, for whatever reason we won't interfere, as Percival is still shunning the rest of his family."
"If we lose Ron?" Lupin asked.
"Assuming Harry's assessment is correct, and I hope it isn't," Dumbledore said, "Harry's endangered himself, as the last known case, over a century ago, proved fatal, which is normal. However, it'd only be between skilled Legilimens, something Harry lacks—"
"Have you considered Harry might be training with Ron?" Lupin said, "I mean, you mentioned it'd be awfully personal, and I wouldn't want to start my training against Snivelus."
"Alas," Dumbledore said, chalking up his lack of insight to his condition, "That would explain some of their recent behaviors. Still, myself or Severus would be more suitable—"
"They're being…they're being…" Sirius started.
"Teenagers," Lupin said.
"Urgent," came McGonagall's voice. Took Dumbledore a second to realize it was the charm.
"I need to get back," Dumbledore said.
"Thank you," Lupin said.
Dumbledore grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, dropped it as he stepped into the fireplace.
HOOT!
Harry reached as Hedwig woke him back up, felt Ron, the price of Ron's friendship to Harry, a price that could still be paid in life or death. Harry pulled the duvet back over Ron, all the way up to his neck, and stood.
"Bee in your bonnet, Potter?" the sorting hat asked.
Harry glanced at the light brown outback hat on the bookshelf.
"Yeah, him," Harry said, "If we weren't in school, if we had skipped, this wouldn't have happened."
Harry turned, stared at himself in the mirror on the back of Gia's door. He focused on his own bottle green eyes, wondered if Legilimency worked on himself, see what others saw.
"Are you sure?" the sorting hat asked.
"Ron wouldn't have been in the corridor to be attacked," Harry said, "Of course I'm sure."
"Avoiding returning altogether to avoid the possibility of another attack?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"It'd be for the better," Harry said.
"Better now or later?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"Do not forget to return me if you decide to quit," the Sorting Hat said.
Harry turned to glance back at the hat.
"I am the property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on an extended loan to a pupil," the Sorting Hat said, "If said pupil is no longer a student, than I need to be returned, and I will take every effort to return myself."
"Of course," Harry said.
Crookshanks pushed the door open, fur against Harry's ankles as the cat walked by Harry's feet, and the cat jumped up onto the bed. Harry shut the door as the orange cat curled by Ron.
"He hated that cat," Harry said.
"Opinions and friendships change with time," the Sorting Hat said.
"Ron's hasn't," Harry said, "Sure, we've had our spells, but we've been friends for years, I'd truly miss him if he were gone."
"I could sense that the first time you put me on," the Sorting Hat said.
"You could?" Harry asked.
"It was the trait that persuaded me that you were best in Gryffindor," the Sorting Hat.
"Thanks," Harry said, "It's just…Hogwarts no longer feels like home. Home's here."
"Hogwarts is a school, not a home," the Sorting Hat said.
"I know," Harry said, "Guess I never identified with the Dursleys. Needed to become fat to be one of them."
Harry sat back on the foot of the bed. Hedwig took the jump, her talons on Harry's thighs, and he petted her feathers. Snowy white, and her eyes, Hedwig soothed the anger out of him as he thought about the injustices going on at school. Harry figured this is why Hagrid lacked a mean bone, tending to creatures and pets had a way of blunting the wrath.
"Imagine a life where you weren't famous or infamous," the Sorting Hat said.
"I'd be attending Hogwarts without question," Harry said, "Ron and me…we've debated this."
Hedwig stretched her wings for a moment.
"And your enemies?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"Obvious—want me gone," Harry said, "Even the other students are rallying to the Death Eaters' cries."
Harry petted more of Hedwig's feathers.
"Outside Hogwarts?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"They're rallying too," Harry said.
Crookshanks moved his tail, it brushed against Harry.
"And the Headmaster?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"Wants me to stay," Harry said, "Of my own volition to ease his conscience."
"Are you sure?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"What other reason could there be?" Harry said, "Of course he doesn't want me driven out, but others are being killed and raped."
HOOT!
Harry summoned an owl treat, broke it off, and fed it to Hedwig still in his lap.
"And what about the Dursleys?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"Dead, except Dudley," Harry said, "Expect them to be pleased about me quitting."
"Do you live your life for them?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"No," Harry said.
Harry sighed, focused on Hedwig's big eyes, stroked more feathers.
"Hogwarts has been good, mostly," Harry said, "It's not like I want to quit, more like I have to, to protect my friends."
"So, you think you'd be safer not at Hogwarts?" the Sorting Hat said.
"Yeah," Harry said, "We'd be at St. Mungo's…damn."
Harry turned his head, stared at Ron's idle face.
"We tried St. Mungo's," Harry said, "And they came there. No place in the wizarding world is safe if we're chased out of the hospital."
Harry had a lingering doubt about the safety of the muggle world.
"Doesn't matter if I quit Hogwarts or not," Harry said, "No place is truly safe, is it?"
"Safety is always relative," the Sorting Hat said.
"What'd Dumbledore mean?" Harry said, "About disastrous consequences should I quit?"
"Ominous," the Sorting Hat said, "However, I will not bind you to any course of action, you must act with your own volition."
Harry yawned, felt the fatigue return.
"Hedwig," Harry said.
Hedwig hopped, returned to her perch.
"I'll sleep on it," Harry said to the hat as he moved up the bed.
Harry pulled the duvet off, climbed back in.
"At least Hogwarts remembers me," Harry said.
Harry fell back to sleep.
Minerva McGonagall tried to ignore the chime as she attempted to sleep another wink, however, the sound of crashing was unmistakable. Already dressed, the badly needed nap could not be finished, and so she stood. A mob on the other side of the door attempted the lock.
"BLIMEY!" came the holler.
"REDUCTUS!" came the shout.
As quickly as the door shattered, her wand put it back together, but enough to see the canary yellow uniforms on the other side. Another flick of her wand, the cries on the other side could be heard.
"Ow, ow, fucking thing BITES!" came another voice.
Another wave of her wand, the office turned into an empty room with extensive cobwebs, and she jumped into her animal cat form. She went out the cat flap, spied the canary yellow, the students moving along, and she followed the smell of smoke. Hospital Wing had flames coming out of it as canary yellow had wands leveled.
"WHERE'S RON WEASLEY!" came the demand.
"He's not here," said Madam Pomfrey.
"LIAR!" came one boy, "His death would've been in The Daily Prophet so he's alive, somewhere, and you know where he is."
"BLIMEY!" came Oliver Wood's voice as the stones shook.
McGonagall's paws went down the steps.
"Meow!" came Mrs. Norris as she tried to rub against McGonagall.
McGonagall leapt, moved fast, returned to her witch form as she came to Oliver Wood's office, in disarray.
"What's going on?" Wood asked.
"Wish I knew," McGonagall said, "Start ushering students to their dormitories."
Wood's wand was out, he left as McGonagall brought her wand to her throat.
"Sonoros!" McGonagall said.
"ALL STUDENTS RETURN TO THEIR DORMITORIES!" came the announcement, her voice, "I REPEAT, ALL STUDENTS RETURN TO THEIR DORMITORIES IMMEDIATELY!"
Neville heard the announcement, his school uniform's sweater still gray. Neville cinched his tie as he watched Finnigan enter Professor Tonks' vacant office.
"We're supposed to—" Neville started.
"BELT IT!" Finnigan shouted, wand aimed at Neville, "Change your jumper or get the fuck out!"
"Why's he still around?" asked Dean Thomas.
"Dunno," Finnigan said, "We know she's a sympathizer."
"You're getting Gryffindor into trouble!" Neville shouted.
"We're not First Years," Finnigan said.
"Time," Dean Thomas said.
Neville waited back, heard the bang as the corridor shook. Smoke and flame billowed out of the office, Finnigan came out with a singed face.
"Should've warned us!" Finnigan snapped at Neville, trousers shredded, tattered boxers covered the bulge.
"Breaking into a teacher's office?" Neville said, "Think they're idiots?"
Dean Thomas coughed as he came back out.
"Try again—later," Thomas said.
"What you laughing at?" Finnigan demanded as Neville couldn't contain it.
"You look like the idiots," Neville said.
"Scram and get to the dormitory if that's so important to you!" Finnigan shouted.
"Library," Thomas suggested.
Neville tried to chase, but figured it better to simply heed the advice, as the tabby cat brushed against his legs. Neville understood the message, went up the steps as smoke lingered in the air, and made it to the Gryffindor Common room.
"What's the meaning—?" Ginny asked of Neville.
"Um…" Neville turned around in the common room, scorched marks on the walls, pictures shattered, and Neville knew whose picture those were, everything of Harry, Ron, or Hermione were destroyed".
"My trunk's looted too," Colin said as he came down the stairs.
"Looted?" Neville asked.
"Anything Harry," Ginny said, "Mine too."
"This way," Neville said, led the way up the steps, into the sixth year boys' dormitory.
"Oh," Ginny said.
Devastation clear, nothing remained of Harry nor Ron's beds, wardrobes, desks, all obliterated.
"Should we check the girls' side?" Colin asked.
Smoke billowed up from portions of the castle as Neville peered out the window, the clouds above adding to the gloom. When he turned, his own trunk lid ajar. He opened it, the contents disorganized and already rummaged through.
"Guessing we'd find the same," Neville said, picking up the order sheet of parchment on his bed, the one wanting his signature for a canary yellow jumper.
"It'd be wise to have one," Ginny said.
Neville sighed as he sat at his desk, took out the quill.
"Don't want to," Neville said.
"Gets them off your back to at least look the part," Colin said.
"True," Neville said as he signed.
"Finnigan's pissed, been grumbling over his detention all morning," Neville said.
"You don't think Seamus would—do something?" Colin asked.
"At the start of the year—no," Neville said, "Now, not so sure."
"Know what you mean," Ginny grumbled.
Neville glanced out again, a flash near the library.
McGonagall's furry paws outpaced Finnigan, the running good for her, as she came to the library a few steps in front. She leapt and became a witch in emerald green robes, her wand out as she stood with Madam Pince.
BOOM!
Finnigan and Thomas, Macmillan followed, as they blasted through the locked library door. Thomas was behind Finnigan. In a canary yellow T–shirt, Finnigan aimed his wand.
"Accio Books mentioning Potter!" Finnigan shouted, wand aimed. Books began to move off the shelves.
"Finite incantatem!" Madam Pince shouted, wand aimed, and the books returned.
"STUP—" Thomas started.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" McGonagall shouted, and Thomas' wand left him.
A flick of McGonagall's wand, the tables grew into nets, stopped Thomas in his place. Finnigan struggled.
"Petrificus Totalis!" Madam Pince said, and Macmillan froze in place.
"ASSAULT!" Finnigan shouted, "RAPE!"
"Interesting definition of rape," McGonagall said as she heard the castle creak and groan.
"May I go?" Thomas said.
Thomas' whites of his eyes clear as her eyes loitered on him.
"She's interested," Finnigan said.
"You attempted to open Professor Tonks' trunk and this was the result," McGonagall said, "Yet, instead of returning to your dormitory as you were commanded to do, you chose to continue your assault against Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"
She paused for a moment.
"What should we do with these?" asked Madam Pince, her wand still aimed.
"Know what I think?" Finnigan asked.
"I do not care what you're thinking," McGonagall said.
"This," Finnigan said, spreading the front flaps of his boxers, revealing the contents within.
"You are correct, some things are ill–suited to detention," McGonagall said, "I need you—"
"Minerva?" asked Kinsley Shacklebolt as he entered.
"Heard you were here," said Nymphadora Tonks.
"Kinsley," McGonagall said, "Take Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas to Gryffindor Tower, help them pack."
"Pack?" Finnigan asked.
"As Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry no longer fits you," McGonagall said, "I am recommending all three of you for expulsion. That includes you, Mr. Macmillan. Nymphadora, take Mr. Macmillan to Hufflepuff where he too, can pack."
"Blimey!" Finnigan said as Kinsley turned him around, "Haven't heard the last of this!"
Finnigan bent over, dropped trousers and mooned her.
"Remember your cleaning charms," McGonagall said.
Finnigan blushed as he left.
"Thank you," Madam Pince said.
"Unfortunately, I don't have the final say," McGonagall said, "I suspect…we haven't heard the last of this, I'm afraid."
"Heard the trophy room took it first," Madam Pince said.
"Seal the door," McGonagall said, "It's not over until all students are in their dormitories."
McGonagall waved her wand, the door did not yield to the suggestion of repair.
"I'll make do," Madam Pince said.
McGonagall hurried along, passed through the trophy room, and sighed. She wanted to weep at the level of trophies and medals destroyed, uncertain to how much could be repaired, but she had duties to perform. She came to the second floor, stepped onto the ascending staircase, and entered the Headmaster's office.
"Kinsley found you?" asked Dumbledore, from behind his desk.
"Yes," McGonagall said, "I'm recommending students for expulsion once I have the full roster."
"Expulsions must be approved by the Board of Governors," said Minister Fallerschain as he entered the office.
"I do not recall inviting you," said the Headmaster.
"A riot, vandalism," the Minister said, "Why am I not surprised? Likely the result of your mismanagement of Potter—"
"Mr. Potter is currently under suspension," the Headmaster said, "He is nowhere near this castle."
"A disagreement on Mr. Potter is not a reason for the students to ransack the castle," said McGonagall.
"The root rot here is Potter," the Minister said, "The Board would like a word with you, Headmaster."
"I was unaware—" Dumbledore started.
"An emergency has arisen," the Minister said, "Mr. Diggory wants answers, downstairs in the Antechamber."
McGonagall lent her elbow, Dumbledore held it as he stood.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said to her.
A slow tap of the cane, the Headmaster left the office, and McGonagall walked with them.
"I don't have time to dally," the Minister said as he walked ahead.
An air of smoke filled the corridors, scorched marks littered the doors of the Hospital Wing, now closed, and they went down the marble stairs. Armor laid strewn on the floor in disarray.
"There," Wood said, "I need to replace—"
"Please itemize the damage," Dumbledore instructed.
Wood returned to the ground floor corridor. Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Tables collapsed, scorch marks on the walls.
"I've never—" McGonagall said.
"It can be repaired," Dumbledore said.
They entered the Antechamber.
"About time," the Minister snapped.
"No notice—he's not a young wizard!" McGonagall retorted.
"ORDER!" yelled Amos Diggory as he slammed his gavel from the table.
Dumbledore sat.
"As you can likely tell," Amos Diggory said, "We're not exactly pleased when we heard of the rioting that occurred at Hogwarts today. This institution's reputation is in a free fall due to your lack of leadership. Accordingly, it puts community contributions on an all time low, when Dedalus Diggle had cautioned us a month ago that we needed to raise revenue, not frivolously squander it. What do you have to say about this Mr. Dumbledore?"
"Unfortunately I did not have a chance to further discuss finances with Mr. Diggle," Dumbledore said, "However, the coffers are being refilled, so short term finances are stable. As to the remainder, students are being rounded up into their dormitories as we speak, and a full damage assessment can be made after we have surveyed the castle. By observation, stone is still up, therefore, it is repairable."
"Thank you for that rosy picture," said Amelia Bones.
"Any and all punishments for the perpetrators," Dumbledore said, "Including expulsions, are still under consideration."
"Expelling Potter? Finally," Minister Fallerschain said.
"Mr. Potter's still serving a suspension due to the other students beating Ronald Weasley to within an inch of his life," Dumbledore said, "Certainly the board can agree that if Mr. Potter is not at Hogwarts, he is not among those rioting to remove him, are they?"
"Of course we're reasonable," said Mr. Ollivander.
"It's still Mr. Potter's attendance that triggered this!" said Rhedyn Nott, "It's time to face facts and remove him!"
"Thank you," the Minister said to her.
"I was wondering where the esteemed Headmaster and the Deputy had gone to," said Snape as he entered the Antechamber.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said, "Please see to it."
McGonagall turned around, left the Antechamber with Snape.
"Keeping students confined to their dormitories for any period of time is fraught with peril," said Snape.
"Take a head count," McGonagall said, "Make sure that every student is in their dormitory, and report who is not. I'd like for us to get back to teaching."
"That is what we get paid for," said Snape.
McGonagall sighed.
Dumbledore watched as Amos Diggory hammered his gavel.
"Motion passed," Amos Diggory said, "Is there any further business?"
"I doubt this will contain Potter," the Minister said.
"Meeting adjourned," Amos Diggory said.
Sky blue robes, the Minister left first and fast. Most of the others left.
"I stand by my reading of the wands," Mr. Ollivander said.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said.
Mr. Ollivander left, leaving Dumbledore and Amelia Bones.
"I agree it's not fair to Potter," said Amelia Bones, "However, as you conceded, removing Potter from school would protect the school itself, at least for now. And it's the safety of every student that we must consider, not simply one student."
Dumbledore shook as he used his cane to steady himself upward, stand.
"We both know who is ultimately behind it," Dumbledore said, "It's the ones in between that we need to uncover and address."
Dumbledore began to move for the door.
"You got a little of what you wanted out of it," Amelia Bones said.
"While overriding our punishment of the perpetrators of today's riots," Dumbledore said, "How can the Minister expect me to maintain discipline if he refuses to let me discipline?"
"At least Potter's not being expelled," Amelia Bones said.
"True," Dumbledore said, aware of the compromise.
"Tomorrow?" Amelia Bones asked.
"Until tomorrow," Dumbledore replied as they entered the Entrance Hall.
Amelia Bones went for the front door. Dumbledore went up the stairs.
"Aw." Madam Pomfrey walked out of the Hospital Wing, carrying her medical hand–bag, walked with the Headmaster. "I need to do my rounds."
"From my office," Dumbledore said.
Madam Pomfrey walked with Dumbledore, when the tabby cat stepped onto the Ascending stairs with them.
"I wish Mr. Weasley was in the Hospital Wing," Madam Pomfrey said.
"He is still suspended," Dumbledore said, "He cannot come until tomorrow, at the earliest, if we ignored the threats. As to moving him, I presumed that's unwise."
"It would be easier to supervise," Madam Pomfrey said, "Though yes, unwise to move him at this time."
"In a moment," Dumbledore said as he sat down behind his desk, "Mr. Potter needs to be informed."
Dumbledore took out parchment and a quill. His hand moved fast, an ability that's escaped his deteriorating health, and he wrote out the letter. He folded it, sealed it.
"Deliver this to Harry," Dumbledore said as he handed it over, "Spares an owl."
Dumbledore activated and handed her the Portkey, she vanished.
"Any news on Ron?" asked McGonagall as she left her form.
"Poppy will let me know," Dumbledore said, "I agree it'd be easier if we could bring Mr. Weasley here, however, the Board of Governors will make that task more difficult."
"Perhaps it will make it easier," McGonagall said, "At least that meeting is over with."
"I told you—" Dumbledore started.
"At least Ponoma and Filius agreed that having rioting students was in bad form," McGonagall said, "Riot is over."
"Damages?" Dumbledore asked.
"Trophy room bore the brunt of it," McGonagall said, "If Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley or Miss. Granger had anything of value in their dormitories—"
"They do not," Dumbledore said.
"I did rescue their Quidditch Robes this morning," McGonagall said, "How'd you know to write me?"
"I didn't," Dumbledore said, "But, if it helps, I can write one now."
Dumbledore took out another sheet of parchment, wrote a letter to her.
"Neither you nor me has a time turner," McGonagall said, as he folded up the parchment.
"No, I could not do that," Dumbledore said. He gave a bit of a laugh, the humor felt good, though he had a hunch.
"I'll see to replacing the contents of trunks with standard issue," McGonagall said, "Which comes to the issue of Hogwarts financials, which you've shared with the Board of Governors."
"They're pleased that our accounts are flush and funded," Dumbledore said, "About the only thing they're pleased with."
"Did you tell them where the funds came from?" McGonagall asked.
"Strangely," Dumbledore said, "That question never came up. Doubt Mr. Potter would mind, but alas, it's only a hunch." Dumbledore set the letter from Daedulus Diggle aside, the one postmarked early Tuesday morning.
"Suppose Mr. Potter finds out," McGonagall said.
"Harry … need not understand the economy," Dumbledore said, "Preserve his innocence and let him barter in what's more important, friendship."
Harry woke to the duvet being pulled, Thursday evening had already sat in. Ron was exposed, the chest moved shallow.
"Acute exhaustion?" asked Madam Pomfrey as she replaced Ron's Everdrip IV patch.
"No," Harry lied, though he did feel the fatigue.
Harry moved the pillow from beneath his head, slipped it beneath the duvet to cover.
"I was expecting at least one owl report," Madam Pomfrey said, "Your suspension doesn't forbid owl post."
"I know," Harry said.
"And Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed over a letter, "Save your bird a flight."
"Ta," Harry grumbled, "How's Ron doing?"
"You shouldn't have to ask me that," Madam Pomfrey said, "Read that book and you'd know for yourself! He's…stable."
Harry caught the nagging thought, the cover–up in her eyes. A brief snore from Ron as Madam Pomfrey's wand examined the comatose friend.
"I'll just be…" Harry said as he turned for the door.
Harry went for the stairs.
"Gotta be careful," Hermione said, cross–legged on the sofa, her fingers on her toes. Her eyes toward Harry's hard cock jutting outward.
"Could've woken me!" Harry said.
"Been asleep all day," Hermione said.
"Not that bad," Harry said.
"You woke for what, a whole five minutes before going back to bed?" Hermione asked.
Harry yawned, planted his arse on the other sofa, across from her.
"Another freak!" came the shout from Andy, upstairs.
Madam Pomfrey came down the stairs.
"Mr. Weasley is making progress," Madam Pomfrey said, "But too soon to tell."
"Understood," Harry said.
"Wish you hadn't of tied me to that ridiculous—" Madam Pomfrey started.
"Ain't ridiculous," Harry said, "Sorry, but your wand's never coming near me again."
Madam Pomfrey activated the Portkey, vanished.
"You're being rude," Hermione said to Harry as he stood.
"You've read the book, you tell me," Harry said, "She could tell, right?"
"Some basic checks, no, but yes, she'd figure it out," Hermione said.
"Cause you're right," Harry said, "Precious! And I'd rather not lose them."
Harry sighed, went up the stairs.
Hoot!
Harry grabbed an owl treat, snapped it in half, and fed it to Hedwig. Harry stroked her feathers.
"How's he doing?" Gia asked as she entered the bedroom.
"Madam Pomfrey's lying to say fine," Harry said, "Still unconscious."
Harry left the bedroom, went down the stairs.
"Ready?" Hermione asked.
Harry felt a bit of hesitation, leaving Ron here, however, figured it better to not clue Kristen into Ron's status. Gia accompanied them, and the three left the house. Hermione entered the gymnasium first.
"Waiting on Ron," Kristen said.
"Bit…under the weather," Hermione said, "Felt it better to stay home, sleep it off."
"Tell him not to do it again," Kristen said, "As skipping's not a good habit."
Garrett Tremble stepped into the middle of the mats.
"Let us begin," said Tremble.
Harry returned to 26 Oak Street hours later, a dozen yards ahead of Gia and Hermione. Up the steps, into Gia's bedroom, and peered down on Ron's face, still idle with breath between the lips. Harry reached, grabbed Ron's hand, and held it for a few minutes, before he climbed into bed himself.