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Chapter 12
Daphne hurried through the corridors, her heart racing as she made her way to the library. She knew Harry had been there for most of the afternoon, and if Draco intended to act soon, there wasn't much time to waste. As she approached the entrance, she saw Harry and Cho walking out together, their hands intertwined.
Harry looked particularly tired, dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slightly slumped, while Cho seemed alert and fiercely protective, her eyes scanning the corridor as if expecting trouble to come at any moment.
Daphne took a breath to steady herself. She couldn't afford hesitation now. Her face remained calm and composed, her posture straight as she approached them.
"Potter," Daphne called out, her voice steady and even. "I need to speak with you. It's important."
Both Harry and Cho turned, and Daphne noticed Harry's confusion as he glanced at her. Cho's expression immediately hardened, and her grip on Harry's hand tightened as she stepped slightly in front of him, her posture defensive.
Cho's eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious, but also trying to read Daphne's intent. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me," she said, her voice firm. "I'm not leaving him."
Daphne stood her ground, her chin raised slightly as she met Cho's gaze. "Very well, it's something you both should hear anyways," she clarified, her tone respectful but firm.
Reaching into her robe, she pulled out the crumpled letter and held it out to Harry. He looked at it warily, his eyes lingering on the unfamiliar family crest before glancing at Daphne. Cho's fingers tightened again, a silent reminder of her presence. Harry hesitated, but finally reached for the letter.
When his fingers brushed hers, Daphne felt a small jolt, like static electricity, and she momentarily lost her calm. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second, and her fingers trembled slightly as she let go of the letter. She quickly averted her eyes, willing herself to regain her steady demeanor.
Harry's brow furrowed as he unfolded the parchment, reading its contents. Daphne watched as his confusion shifted to shock and then to something darker—an anger that seemed to simmer beneath his tired exterior.
"What…?" Harry started; his voice uncertain. "Why would Malfoy—?"
Cho leaned in to read over his shoulder, her eyes widening as she took in the message. Daphne saw Cho's jaw tighten, her protectiveness of Harry intensifying. There was an edge to Cho's voice when she spoke.
"Is this real?" Cho demanded, her eyes locking onto Daphne's.
"Yes," Daphne answered, her tone unwavering. "I found it in the common room after Draco left. He received it from his father. He's planning to provoke you into attacking him, in front of witnesses." She kept her face composed, her expression giving away nothing but the seriousness of her words.
Harry's eyes met hers, searching her face as if trying to read her intentions. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice hoarse, yet direct.
Daphne took a breath, keeping her posture straight and her expression neutral. She had prepared herself for this question, rehearsed her response mentally several times. But as she looked at him, the weight of his question made her feel as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff.
"I'm telling you because it's the right thing to do," she said, her voice steady. "If you lose control, if someone gets hurt—it won't just be you who suffers. There will be consequences for everyone—new laws, more restrictions, more fear. This affects everyone at Hogwarts, not just you." She managed to keep her tone even, but she couldn't stop her gaze from dropping to the floor momentarily.
Harry's fingers tightened around the letter, and Daphne felt her pulse quicken. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost uncertain. "You're taking a risk telling me this, Greengrass," he said, a hint of confusion in his tone.
Daphne tried to keep her composure intact, but the way he spoke her name—so directly, without malice—made her resolve falter. A faint blush crept up her neck, and she looked away, her jaw tightening. "It's not just about you, Potter," she replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze once more. "This is about doing what's right, regardless of House loyalties."
She could feel Cho's eyes on her, scrutinizing every nuance of her expression. Daphne fought the urge to fidget or look away, maintaining her cool demeanor as best she could.
There was a long silence, and then Cho spoke, her tone softer than before. "Thank you," she said quietly, and there was no mistrust in her voice—only genuine gratitude. She turned to Harry, giving him a reassuring look. "She's right, Harry. You can't let Malfoy get to you."
Harry nodded slowly, absorbing their words. He looked back at Daphne, his expression still tinged with confusion, but also something that resembled gratitude. "I appreciate you warning me," he said sincerely. "I won't forget this."
Daphne gave a quick nod, her face still a mask of neutrality. "Just be careful," she murmured. "And don't let him push you into anything. He's counting on it."
She turned to leave, her heart racing and her mind reeling from the encounter. As she walked away, she heard Cho's voice, low and steady, offering reassurances to Harry. There was no hint of jealousy in her tone—only concern and protectiveness.
As Daphne rounded a corner, she let out a slow, steady breath, trying to regain her composure. She had done what she needed to do, and now it was out of her hands. But the way Cho had looked at her—like she understood—lingered in her mind.
Cho's perceptiveness, her fierce protectiveness of Harry, and her ability to see through people's intentions were traits Daphne hadn't expected. And yet, Daphne couldn't bring herself to resent it. If anything, it made her respect Cho more.
…
Amelia Bones arrived in Hogsmeade just as the sun began to set behind the distant hills, casting long shadows over the narrow cobblestone streets. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the crisp autumn air bit at her cheeks. It was a quiet evening in the village, the hustle and bustle of the day winding down, and only a few villagers moved about, finishing their business before retreating to the warmth of their homes.
Amelia's eyes scanned the streets as she made her way towards the Hog's Head, where Dumbledore had arranged their meeting. Despite the apparent tranquility of the evening, she couldn't shake the unsettling sensation crawling up her spine—a feeling that she was being watched. She kept her steps even, her expression calm, but her hand instinctively hovered close to her wand.
It wasn't unusual for the streets of Hogsmeade to be empty this time of the evening, but something about the stillness felt off, like the quiet before a storm. Amelia's years of experience had honed her instincts, and every instinct she had screamed at her to stay alert. She glanced over her shoulder casually, taking in the shop windows and alleyways, but there was no one there—just a pair of old witches chatting in front of Scrivenshaft's and a lone man entering Honeydukes.
Despite her attempts to brush off the feeling, it only grew stronger with each step she took. She slowed her pace as she neared the Hog's Head, her fingers brushing the handle of her wand, ready to draw it in an instant. Her heart quickened, and her senses were on high alert.
Just as she reached the door, ready to enter, she felt it—a ripple of hostile magic, followed by the unmistakable voice of someone casting a Killing Curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A high-pitched, disembodied voice rang out from somewhere to her left. A jet of green light erupted from the shadows, speeding towards her like an arrow. Her instincts took over, and Amelia rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the deadly curse as it whizzed past her and shattered the door to the Hog's Head with a deafening crack.
She came up on one knee, her wand already drawn, and fired a stunning spell towards the spot where she had seen the curse originate. But the spell hit nothing but shadows. Amelia's eyes darted around, searching for the source of the attack. She heard hurried footsteps and turned just in time to see a second green jet of light speeding towards her from the opposite end of the street.
She dove to the ground, the curse missing her by inches and scorching the cobblestones where she had stood. But even as she landed, she heard a third voice—this one lower and gravelly—snarl the words of the Killing Curse from behind her.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Amelia twisted, her wand still raised, but she knew she was too late. She saw the green light racing towards her, aimed straight at her heart. There was no time to react. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes, bracing for the impact and accepting her fate.
But then, in the space of a heartbeat, there was a flash of fire, and a bright, burning warmth enveloped her. Amelia opened her eyes in time to see a magnificent scarlet and gold phoenix swoop in front of her, taking the full force of the curse. Fawkes let out a soft, mournful cry before crumpling into a pile of ash at her feet.
Just as Amelia was processing this, a vicious growl erupted from the shadows. A massive, bear-sized black dog charged out of the alleyway, its eyes glowing with a predatory intensity. The dog lunged towards one of her unseen assailants—one hiding under an invisibility cloak. With a ferocious snarl, the dog sank its teeth into the cloaked figure's arm, ripping away the fabric and exposing the wizard's position. The attacker let out a startled cry, his wand flying out of his hand.
In the next instant, three distinct bursts of disarming spells shot through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of magical chains binding her attackers. Amelia turned, still reeling from what had just happened, to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the middle of the street, his wand raised and his eyes blazing with a fury that sent chills down her spine.
The three assailants—cloaked figures hiding their faces—struggled against the chains that held them, but they were no match for Dumbledore's magic. He flicked his wand, and all three were stunned into unconsciousness, their bodies slumping to the ground like ragdolls.
Dumbledore lowered his wand, the power radiating off him in waves. For a moment, the only sound was the distant murmur of the wind and the rustle of leaves. Then Dumbledore turned to Amelia, his expression softening as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
"Amelia," he said warmly, as if greeting an old friend. "It's good to see you. I trust you are unharmed?"
Amelia, still catching her breath, nodded slowly. She glanced down at the pile of ash at her feet, and Dumbledore followed her gaze. With a gentle, almost reverent gesture, he scooped up the remains of Fawkes, cradling the tiny baby phoenix that had just begun to reform in the ash.
The door to the Hog's Head creaked open, and Aberforth Dumbledore stepped out, a gnarled wand in one hand and a wary expression on his face. He took in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the unconscious attackers and then at the enormous black dog standing over one of them, growling softly.
"Albus," Aberforth muttered, his voice gruff. "You've made a mess of my door."
"Apologies, brother," Albus replied with a faint smile. "It seems we had some uninvited guests. Would you be so kind as to call for the Aurors, I'll fix that door right up in the meantime?"
Aberforth grunted and disappeared back inside the bar, muttering under his breath about troublemakers and "bloody dark wizards."
Dumbledore waved his wand, repairing the door instantly. He turned back to Amelia with an apologetic expression. "I am deeply sorry for this inconvenience, Amelia."
Amelia shook her head, trying to clear the lingering shock. "You saved my life," she said quietly, her voice still a little shaky. "Thank you, Albus."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "It is fortunate that Fawkes was with me," he said, gently stroking the newly reformed chick nestled in his palm. "He has a habit of arriving just when he is needed most."
Amelia glanced at the black dog, which was now sitting on its haunches, eyeing the unconscious attackers with a watchful gaze. "And the… dog?" she asked, her voice still tinged with confusion.
"Ah," Dumbledore said, smiling softly. "An old friend of mine, quite protective when the need arises."
Amelia didn't question it further, but the sight of the massive dog sent a shiver down her spine. There was something almost unnervingly intelligent about its gaze.
Dumbledore gestured towards the entrance of the Hog's Head. "Shall we continue our discussion inside? It's getting rather cold out here."
Amelia nodded, still feeling the lingering adrenaline coursing through her veins. She allowed Dumbledore to guide her inside, where the warmth of the fire and the dim lighting of the bar offered a sense of safety and familiarity.
As they stepped into the Hog's Head, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of having just narrowly escaped death. She glanced at Dumbledore, who still held the baby phoenix with a gentle reverence, and felt a surge of gratitude.
But there was also a lingering question in her mind—one that she knew she would have to address sooner or later.
"Albus," she said quietly, as they found a secluded table near the back of the bar. "Who were they? And how did they know I would be here?"
Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly, a rare shadow passing over his usually twinkling gaze. He set Fawkes down carefully on the table and folded his hands.
"That, Amelia, is what I intend to find out," he replied softly. "But rest assured, we will discover the truth of it."
The barman returned, nodding to Dumbledore to indicate that the Aurors were on their way. He retreated quietly, giving them their privacy.
The dim interior of the Hog's Head seemed to muffle the chaos of what had just occurred outside. The three assailants, still magically bound and unconscious, were secured inside the bar, sprawled on the worn wooden floor. Their wands lay on a nearby table, confiscated and carefully aligned in a neat row. The scent of old ale and firewood hung in the air, mingling with the tension that still lingered after the attack.
Dumbledore settled into his chair across from Amelia Bones, placing Fawkes gently on the table. The newly reformed phoenix chick let out a soft chirp, its tiny feathers shimmering in the dim light. Dumbledore's expression was calm, but the gravity of what had just transpired weighed heavily between them.
"Now, Amelia," Dumbledore began, his voice quiet yet commanding. "There is a matter of great importance that I must discuss with you, beyond the unfortunate events of this evening."
Amelia straightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I assume this is why you requested this meeting?" she asked, her tone guarded.
"It is," Dumbledore confirmed. He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the table. "I believe Sirius Black is innocent of the crimes he was accused of, and he is willing to come forward to prove his innocence."
Amelia's eyebrow arched in disbelief. "And how exactly do you know this, Albus?" she inquired, her skepticism plain.
Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead, he glanced over at the massive black dog that still sat quietly by the door, its eyes gleaming with intelligence. A small smile played at the corner of Dumbledore's lips as he nodded towards the dog.
"Because," Dumbledore replied calmly, "Sirius himself came to me."
Amelia opened her mouth to question him further, but before she could speak, the dog stepped forward, padding quietly to stand beside the table. Amelia watched, her confusion growing, as the enormous dog lifted its head and locked eyes with her.
Then, in a fluid motion, the dog transformed.
Amelia gasped as the creature reshaped itself into a man—a man she recognized instantly from his gaunt face and wild hair. Sirius Black stood before her, and without a moment's hesitation, he reached into his cloak and drew out his wand, holding it out to her.
"Madam Bones," Sirius said, his voice steady but determined. "I am willing to surrender myself into your custody on one condition: that I be given a fair trial."
For a moment, Amelia was too stunned to react. She had heard rumors, of course, whispered tales of Black's supposed cunning and deceit, but to see him standing here, in the flesh, was another matter entirely. Her hand instinctively went to her own wand, but she did not draw it.
"Is this some kind of trick?" Amelia demanded, her voice sharp.
"No trick," Sirius replied evenly. "You have my wand. I'm not here to harm anyone. I'm here to clear my name."
Amelia's eyes shifted to Dumbledore, who watched the exchange with a patient expression. Then she looked back at Sirius, still holding his wand outstretched. Slowly, deliberately, she reached out and took it from him, feeling the weight of the gesture in her hand.
"Very well, Mr. Black," Amelia said, her voice more composed. "If you're willing to surrender yourself, I will see to it that you are given a fair trial. But be warned—if this is a ruse, you will face the consequences."
Sirius inclined his head. "That's all I ask."
Just then, Sirius glanced towards the doors, a signal to Dumbledore. He gave Dumbledore a brief nod before transforming back into the massive black dog, ensuring he wouldn't be recognized by the Aurors entering the bar. They had both known that despite Sirius's cooperation, Aurors loyal to the Ministry might attack him on sight.
Moments later, the doors to the Hog's Head opened, and several Aurors entered, led by a tall, dark-haired man in the distinctive deep-red robes of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The lead Auror's eyes swept the room, taking in the scene—the bound attackers, the disarmed wands, and the imposing presence of Albus Dumbledore. His gaze lingered briefly on the black dog before dismissing it as unimportant.
"Madam Bones," the Auror greeted, his tone respectful but urgent. "What's the situation?"
Amelia straightened, slipping Sirius's wand into her robe. "We were attacked," she said briskly. "The three assailants are in custody, and they were attempting to… well, to assassinate me, it would seem."
The Auror's eyes widened slightly, and he exchanged a look with his colleagues before nodding. "We'll begin questioning them immediately."
As the Aurors moved to secure the prisoners, Dumbledore spoke, his voice carrying an almost casual tone. "One at a time, if you please," he advised. "They may be more cooperative under individual scrutiny."
The lead Auror nodded, and they set to work, waking each attacker in turn and administering Veritaserum. The questioning revealed the same story from all three—each was a low-level thug, hired by "someone within the Ministry" to target Amelia. They had been informed that she would be traveling to Hogsmeade alone that evening and had been instructed to ambush her upon arrival.
Amelia's jaw tightened as she listened. The implications were clear—someone high enough in the Ministry had known her plans and sent these men to kill her. But there was one detail that stood out to her, gnawing at the back of her mind.
"Who gave you this information?" she demanded, her tone icy. "Who within the Ministry?"
But even under the influence of Veritaserum, the attackers could not provide a name. They had received their instructions through anonymous letters, delivered by owl, and their only knowledge was that the order had come from someone with considerable influence.
The frustration in the room was palpable. Amelia felt a cold anger settling in her chest, and she turned to the lead Auror. "I only informed one person of my plans today—my secretary," she said sharply. "Bring her in for questioning. If she's involved, I want to know."
The Auror nodded and dispatched one of his team members to find and detain the secretary. Meanwhile, Amelia tried to process what she had just learned. It was impossible—someone within the Ministryhad orchestrated an attack on her, but she couldn't fathom who would dare something so bold.
When the Auror returned, he was leading a middle-aged witch with a look of confusion on her face. Amelia's secretary, Sarah, was a quiet, unassuming woman with a reputation for efficiency and loyalty. But Amelia's trust in her was now hanging by a thread.
"Madam Bones?" Sarah stammered, looking bewildered. "What's going on?"
"We're going to ask you a few questions, Sarah," Amelia said coolly. "Under Veritaserum. If you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about."
Sarah's eyes widened, and she glanced around at the grim faces surrounding her. "Of course," she agreed shakily. "But… I don't understand. What happened?"
When the Veritaserum was administered, Sarah answered every question truthfully. She had no knowledge of Amelia's plans beyond what had been discussed that morning. In fact, she had left work early after lunch due to feeling ill and had gone straight home to rest.
Amelia listened intently, relief washing over her as she realized her loyal secretary had not betrayed her. But that relief was fleeting, replaced by the chilling realization that someone had impersonated Sarah with precision and intent.
"I'm sorry, Madam Bones," Sarah said quietly, guilt in her eyes despite her innocence. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"It's not your fault," Amelia replied firmly. "You did nothing wrong."
Once Sarah was escorted out of the room, Amelia turned to the remaining Aurors. "We have a problem," she stated, her voice steady but filled with cold anger. "Someone within the Ministry, high enough to access my plans and bold enough to orchestrate this attack, is a traitor. And that person must be found."
The lead Auror met her gaze, his face stern and resolute. "What do you need us to do, Madam Bones?"
Amelia took a deep breath, making her decision. "We're going to do a full sweep of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Every member will be questioned, and I want Veritaserum administered to each of you as well, starting now. We need to weed out this traitor immediately."
There was a murmur of agreement among the Aurors, their loyalty evident. One by one, they willingly agreed to take the Veritaserum, and when questioned, each was proven to be loyal to Amelia. But that wasn't enough for her.
"There's one more thing," she said, her voice firm. "We will take an Unbreakable Vow—all of us. To not betray this cause, and to not warn anyone of our planned sweep."
The lead Auror stepped forward, his wand raised. "We'll do whatever it takes, ma'am."
One by one, each Auror stepped up and took the Vow, their determination evident. When it was done, Amelia felt a sense of grim satisfaction. Her department would be cleansed of any treachery, no matter what it took.
Dumbledore, who had watched silently throughout, nodded approvingly. "You are taking the right steps, Amelia. And know that you will have my full support in this matter."
Amelia turned to him, her face set with resolve. "I appreciate that, Albus," she replied. "And in return, I will help Sirius. He deserves a fair trial, and I intend to see that he gets one."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Then we are in agreement," he said warmly. "Together, we may yet find a way through these dark times."
As the Aurors continued their investigation, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that the path ahead would only grow more dangerous. But she had taken a stand, and she would see this through—no matter what.
…
Weeks had passed since Daphne's warning, and although Draco Malfoy had yet to make any move, Harry could feel the weight of anticipation hanging over him like a storm cloud. Draco hadn't acted—yet—but that didn't mean he wouldn't. If anything, the silence from the Slytherin corner only increased Harry's anxiety, knowing that Malfoy wasn't one to let a command from his father go unheeded for long.
But Harry wasn't alone in facing this threat. Not this time.
…
The morning after the full moon, Harry returned to Hogwarts, his body aching but his resolve stronger than ever. He was determined to see Sirius exonerated and to ensure that Malfoy's schemes didn't succeed.
That afternoon, he and Cho sat together at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, Harry picking at his meal with absentminded exhaustion. Cho, ever watchful, stayed close to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm in a gesture of silent support. Despite their efforts to keep things normal, there was still a tension that hung over them—a reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows.
It was then that Luna Lovegood, sitting on the bench across from them, leaned in with her usual dreamlike demeanor. She picked up her fork, twirling it lazily between her fingers as she looked at Harry with a serene expression.
"Harry," Luna began, her voice light and conversational, "I was wondering if you would consider doing an interview forThe Quibbler."
Harry blinked, caught off guard. He exchanged a quick glance with Cho, who looked equally confused. "An interview?" he repeated, turning his attention back to Luna. "ForThe Quibbler?"
Luna nodded, her silvery-blue eyes meeting his with an almost otherworldly calm. "Yes. I think it would be nice to hear your thoughts on everything happening around you. People tend to forget that heroes are people too, and I'm sure my father would love to share your perspective."
Harry didn't quite know what to say. The idea of doing an interview felt strange, especially with all the negative press inThe Daily Prophet. But there was something sincere in the way Luna spoke, as if she genuinely believed people needed to hear his side of things.
"And," Luna continued, her voice taking on a softer, more wistful tone, "I think readers would be interested in hearing about how you feel… with your dog finding his way home. It must be quite comforting, knowing that a long-lost companion is on the path back to where he belongs."
Harry's heart gave a sharp jolt. Luna's words were cryptic, but they struck a chord deep within him. She couldn't possibly know about Sirius's upcoming trial, or the hope that Harry held onto so tightly—the hope that Sirius would soon be cleared and allowed to return home. Yet here she was, speaking as if she knew exactly what lay in his heart.
He stared at Luna, trying to gauge if she understood the weight of what she was saying. But her expression was serene, almost distant, as if she were merely observing something from afar. It was hard to tell if she was aware of the deeper implications of her words, or if she was simply following an instinct that others couldn't grasp.
"Your dog coming home…" she repeated softly, her voice almost a whisper. "That's a lovely story, don't you think?"
Harry couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. There was something disarming about Luna, a quiet wisdom hidden beneath her dreamy exterior. He felt a growing fondness for the peculiar blonde—a fondness rooted not just in her kindness, but in the way she seemed to glimpse truths that others overlooked.
"Yeah," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "It is a lovely story."
Luna's eyes sparkled with quiet delight, as if she were pleased with his answer. "So, will you do the interview?" she asked, her tone hopeful but not forceful.
Harry hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yeah, Luna. I'd like that," he replied sincerely. "I'd be happy to do an interview forThe Quibbler."
Luna's smile widened, and she clapped her hands together softly. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'm sure Daddy will be thrilled. He always says that the truth needs to be heard, even if it's a bit different from what people expect."
Cho, who had been listening quietly, gave Luna a warm smile. "Thank you, Luna," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "For everything."
Luna tilted her head, her expression curious. "Thank you?" she echoed, as if the idea of being thanked was foreign to her. "Whatever for?"
"For being a good friend," Cho replied, her eyes shining with gratitude.
Luna looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Well, that's nice," she said simply, her voice carrying a touch of wonder. "I don't often hear I have friends."
Harry felt a rush of warmth towards Luna, and he realized just how much he appreciated her presence. She was unlike anyone else he knew—unpredictable, enigmatic, and yet oddly comforting.
As Luna returned to her meal, humming softly to herself, Harry glanced at Cho, who was watching Luna with a look of newfound understanding. They didn't need to say anything—both of them recognized the importance of what had just been shared.