The Deck is Stacked

Harry

Harry's room was the only one with a skeleton.

Which he found to be a bit unfair, to be honest. Even when Hermione and Draco were in this together with him, the most bonkers things happened to him alone. But Rowena Ravenclaw had been buried in her hometown and Salazar Slytherin had left the country and been buried in Croatia. No one knew where Helga Hufflepuff was laid, and Draco refused to open the door to her areas. Still, those room existed now, and Hogwarts House elves appeared to let Professor Dumbledore know that there was no skeleton behind the black door with the yellow accent paint or the silver door with the blue accent paint.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Professor Sprout were all called on duty. And though he was a little late, Flitwick appeared too. "There's a door in Ravenclaw as well," he said. "No one can open it, and no one can find Ms. Spinks!"

"Maybe she's out wandering the grounds," Dumbledore suggested.

Flitwick did not seem satisfied with this idea in the slightest. "She's never where she's supposed to be!" he said. "She's only shown up for a handful of her charms classes!"

This was news to Harry, who had assumed Rosalie and Hermione were enough alike that the idea of missing a single class would cause Rosalie extreme distress. He was not the only one who was surprised. "Ms. Spinks has never missed a single class of mine," Professor Sprout said. "She always performs above average, as well."

"She's there every other class for me," McGonagall said with a frown. "I wondered if I had intimidated her, but…" She looked at tiny little Professor Flitwick for a moment. "…perhaps this is a common pattern for her."

The three looked at Snape, whose sneer had curled into something closer resembling a grimace. "She is always present for potions," he said in a very short tone.

The three professors looked to Harry, Hermione, and Draco for answers, but all three were equally lost. Rosalie was a sixth year, so they had no classes with her, and Harry had not yet had the sixth years for a defence rotation.

Dumbledore redirected the conversation after a moment of silence by taking the Gryffindor door that separated Godric Gryffindor's bedroom from the common room by the ruby handle. This simple motion effectively drew everyone's attention back to the present. "Perhaps," he said, "we could continue this conversation inside? Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, and Ms. Granger can fill Ms. Spinks in on everything if she does not find her own way in while we're speaking."

With nods all around, they entered the room and closed the door behind them. A white sheet had been placed over the skeleton of Godric Gryffindor, which Harry was grateful for. They all continued through to the main area with the circular dip. All of the furniture had already been moved by house elves, who were still popping in and out at crazy speeds.

For a while, the room had been filled with Gryffindor and Slytherin students examining the new space. They'd even crept over to take peeks at each other's common rooms. However, the place was disgusting and the skeleton of Godric Gryffindor set a huge damper on the atmosphere. Harry could also tell that many students were upset at the idea of being so closely linked with their arch-enemies. He understood. The only Slytherin he really trusted was Hermione, and she'd been a Gryffindor first.

Hermione huffed at the house elves doing all the work, but Professor McGonagall fixed her with a hard look. "There are bigger fish to fry," she said, "Than forcing those who do not want change to change."

So Hermione stayed quiet as they stepped into a space where a desk had once stood and watched the house elves begin to take down the nasty chandelier. Magic torches were currently providing light around the room.

"I have asked the house elves to take the furniture to a spare classroom and to lock it," Professor Dumbledore said. He was simultaneously unwrapping a Muggle peppermint from his pocket that looked leftover from Christmas. "I assume the desks will contain writings from the founders themselves. Specifically, Gryffindor, since he seems to have never cleaned out his things. Who knows what treasures we'll find."

The four Professors seemed extremely excited about this, then quickly schooled their expressions back to normal. "And will the rooms stay, Albus?" McGonagall asked.

Professor Dumbledore nodded and Snape straightened up. He made no motion to speak, but Harry could tell that he was preparing an argument. "I must be honest with you all," Dumbledore said instead. "I asked Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Ms. Spinks to seek out if these rooms existed. And now that we know they do, indeed, exist, I think it will be a wonderful place to have them work on an assignment I gave them that I consider to be extremely important." Then, Dumbledore looked at Harry, Hermione, and Draco in turn. "However," he said, "I'm not sure I see the need for students to have private bedrooms away from their peers."

"Unsupervised private bedrooms," McGonagall said, and Harry got the feeling she was looking between him and Hermione, though he turned his gaze down.

"It would definitely further the show of favouritism they've already received," Snape said. "Personally, I think that if the room exists, all should have access to it."

"No," Dumbledore said. "Not for this circumstance, unfortunately. Besides, I'm not sure the doors would open to anyone who is not in their position."

Hermione still held the box with the diadem at her side. If not for that and for what McGonagall had just said, Harry would have tried to take her hand. But now he just looked at the box and thought about how crazy this situation was.

Across the room, the house elves began tearing up the carpet. With crowbars and deadly long scissors, they hacked it up from the ground and sliced it into manageable strips and carted it away. Underneath was a variety of mould, nests, and debris, which other elves began attacking.

"The house elves will restore this room first," Dumbledore decided. "Then the other four. And if you four, Ms. Spinks included, would like to assist them in furnishing choices, you may so long as it is not outlandish. I will see to it that you are provided with the items you need to complete the assignment I have given you in here. We will install a way for us to see into here if we cannot get in, and you will be required to be in your normal beds at night. Professor Snape is correct. Even though this was not your ambition, you have been shown extremely preferential treatment in the eyes of the other students. Especially you, Mr. Potter, when you take into account all that has happened these five years."

For a moment, Harry was ready to defend himself. "I never asked for this!" he thought. But before he could blurt anything out, he remembered being the youngest Quidditch player in a century and shut his mouth. Sure, his adventures hadn't all been rubbish. And from the perspective of his classmates, he'd won a lot of house points, a lot of gold, and a lot of fame.

The Ravenclaw room opened and a girl with black curly hair appeared. It was Rosalie, but with a different hair cut and colour, again. She wore a Muggle business outfit. A blue plaid pantsuit with matching blazer. And had a thick stack of paper held to her chest. "Hello Professors," she said, quite nervously when she saw the crowd. "I'm sorry to barge in… don't mind the hair, I was only experimenting with a few charms."

"You almost look like my aunt," Draco said. "A few grey hairs and witches robes and you'd have it."

"It'll wear off soon." Rosalie blew a perfectly springy black curl out of her face. It obviously was very long hair, but wound so tightly that it all bounced around her shoulders instead at neck length. "What is this place?"

"It's where the four founders used to stay," Draco said. "That way's Gryffindor. That way's Slytherin. And that way's Hufflepuff." He wrinkled his nose in the last direction.

"Ah," Rosalie said. And one of the spiral curls on the side of her head turned brown and fell out of curl. "And do they all open up to the common rooms?"

"They do," Dumbledore said. "Now, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout, would you mind returning to your houses to tell them what we've decided? I need to speak with these students for a moment."

"Ho-hum!" Professor Flitwick said. "I need to speak to Ms. Spinks after you. She's missed far too many a class-"

"Professor Flitwick," Dumbledore interrupted patiently, "Before you have that talk with Ms. Spinks, let's you and I have a chat as well."

More of the curls on Rosalie's head were turning brown and falling out. Some of the blue streak she'd had in her hair since February was coming back as well. She kept the papers she held clutched tightly to her chest.

Professors McGonagall and Snape shared a sigh that sounded equally exhausted and then headed down the corridors back towards their common rooms. Professor Flitwick also departed. Professor Sprout looked at Draco. "Would you mind letting me out the short way?" she asked Draco.

Draco opened and closed his hand and looked between the others. Rosalie must have deduced what he was thinking, because she opened her palm. The blue "Ravenclaw" ran along her thumb line, obvious against her skin. "Sorry Professor," he said. "But no. I will not be opening that door."

So Professor Sprout headed out the Slytherin way, because Slytherin was the closest to Hufflepuff.

Once the doors had closed, Professor Dumbledore looked to Rosalie. "Have you found anything?" he asked. The last of her curls fell out of her hair. It almost looked like she'd taken a dose of Polyjuice potion, except for her face remaining the same as before.

"Oh, lots," she said. "I know where the next two horcruxes are, I think. And I found records on Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket. And I found Tom Riddle's birth record and-"

"How could you have?" Hermione asked. "Tom Riddle wasn't born 100 years ago and that's the minimum amount of time to request that information."

"Oh, I just put in a research request," Rosalie said. "It was quite easy to get it approved."

"You've only been gone four hours!"

"Well, you've found five whole rooms in that time, haven't you?"

"And Godric Gryffindor," Harry said.

Rosalie's eyes shot up. "Oh. Right, well… Tom Riddle's birth record… and apparently he was Tom Riddle Junior. I also found a Marvolo Gaunt and a claim from the ministry on some jewelry that was stolen, and-"

"Come off it," Harry said. "How'd you get all this?"

"And newspapers," Rosalie finished. "Lots of newspapers from a place called Little Hangleton. Have you ever heard of it?"

Everyone – even Dumbledore – shook their heads. "Well, funny enough, we were staying near to it in December," Rosalie said. "Little Hangleton is a town on your way to Lancashire, right after Preston."

"Preston?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Isn't Preston about two hours from Manchester?"

"Only an hour." Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Yes, only. You know, my first job ever, I drove an hour there and back every day. But from Wigan, it's only a forty-five minute trip. Little Hangleton is inland, towards the Bowland Forest."

She began picking through papers in her hand and then withdrew a map of northern England. In the bottom right-hand corner, Harry could see Wigan labelled and the word gave him a pang in his chest. What a nice little home that tiny rental had been…

One day, he wanted to have underfloor heating in his home too.

"This here is Little Hangleton, population two-hundred-forty-three as of today. But when Tom Riddle was born, it was, believe-it-or-not, even smaller. And it had a tiny newspaper all to itself. On August 18, 1931, the newspaper reported that the Riddles had had their baby, Tom. Twenty years later, in March, they were reporting a scandal. Tom Riddle had run off with the scraggly daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, Merope. That newspaper talks about how Tom said he was "hoodwinked" and "taken in" Later, Tom and his parents were found dead in the home with no apparent injuries."

Rosalie was handing out papers as fast as she could talk. Dumbledore ended up holding the 1931 photocopied newspaper while Hermione got a 1951 paper and Harry received a 1952 one. Draco examined the cause of deaths of the Riddles, nodding as if he'd seen fifty reports of this nature. Then, Rosalie pulled out one that was notably more recent.

"Last year, the newspaper reported that a grave had been dug up and shouts and bright lights were seen in the graveyard on the twenty-fourth of June. Sound familiar, Harry?"

"Too," Harry said, frowning. "I remember, though, that Voldemort bound me to a grave and removed a bone out of it. That… that would be the grave dug up, then?"

"Absolutely," Rosalie agreed. "But anyway, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Bone of the Father, Marvolo Gaunt, Merope Gaunt. The story as I've figured it out thus far is that Merope, a pureblood daughter of an abusive sick-in-the-head jerk, left home with a boy she fancied and got pregnant. From the stories I've heard, I bet she love-spelled him, meaning she deserves to go to hell as much as Voldemort does. And-"

"Blimey Rosalie," Hermione interrupted. "First of all, tell us how you really feel, why don't you? Second of all, breathe?"

"I want you to remember saying that," Harry said to her, putting a hand on her arm. "Because I'm going to repeat it to you for the rest of our lives. 'Remember to breathe, Hermione'."

"That same year," Rosalie continued, "Marvolo Gaunt filed an auror report for some stolen jewellery of his. A locket he claimed belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself, and a family heirloom ring. He and his son had been arrested and sent to Azkaban for the abuse of his daughter, Merope. When he returned, he found a note that she'd left and taken it. The jewellery was searched for, but never found."

Rosalie passed the entire stack of papers to Draco and flapped out one that was actually four pieces of paper all taped together. It was a lineage line. "It turns out that all magical births are on record with the Muggles after 100 years have passed. This is the lineage line of the Marvolos… all this is available on the Muggle Internet! You can use this website called Ancestry, or another free one called FamilySearch. You can see from my blue highlighter… those are all inbreds." And there was, indeed, a lot of blue highlighter. "I honestly wonder if Merope wouldn't have been forced to be with her older brother, eventually. But, uh, all the way up here… this is Cadmus Peverell."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "The originator of the Resurrection Stone."

"Yes, exactly," Rosalie said.

"You found all this with four hours?" Dumbledore asked. "My, Muggle technology is wonderful."

"Well, that's not all I've found," Rosalie said. "I believe Voldemort visited the house in 1968, during his last year or so of Hogwarts. And that's the newspaper I handed to Draco-" She took the stack back and shuffled papers so Draco could hold up the one she wanted displayed. A glorified display case. "He killed his father and grandparents and I believe made a horcrux that could have been left at either the Riddle or the Gaunt property. Horcrux locations one or two, though I doubt he'd have left a single horcrux in that close of a proximity. The second location I believe could be a location is a cave nearby Kent's Cavern. Found a local paper there that a young Tom Riddle and two others – Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop – were found trapped in the cave. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were apparently traumatised to the point of becoming mute. I hypothesize another horcrux could be hidden there."

Here, she finally paused for breath, though Harry felt himself that he could not breathe much. It was Hermione who finally spoke. "So, seven, minus the diary, minus the snake, minus the potential two there, minus the diadem." At her words, the box in her hands quivered. "Two more to find."

"There were no more Muggle papers on Riddle," Rosalie said. "I intend to check the ministry soon, though."

"It would be really great," Draco said, dryly. "If someone could just read the Dark Lord's mind."

Harry's expression soured. "Yeah, get on that, why don't you?" He muttered.

"Excusing me, Misters!" A house eld piped from beside his foot. "We is needing yous to be moving so we can be getting rid of this carpet!"

"Oh, right," Harry said, and took Hermione's hand. "Thank you!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something to the House elves, but Harry put a hand over it. "Before you say anything, can I have a chat with you real quick?" He asked. "It'll only be a minute."

Hermione pushed his hand away. "What, Harry?"

"It's about Dobby… and all those clothes you've been making."

Hermione made the connection immediately. "He's been taking them?"

"No, Hermione, none of the elves wanted to clean Gryffindor Tower while you were there. You insulted them, so they stopped doing it. Dobby has been the only one cleaning… so yes, he's taken them all." He put his hands out. "Now, I know you want to help. But the fact that they stopped cleaning to avoid your stuff… that implies agency, doesn't it?"

Hermione was seething, but hadn't yet picked a flaw in his thought. "But… then how…"

Rosalie floated over and dumped her stack into Harry's hands. She put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, have you ever been told that you shouldn't push your culture onto other people?"

The gesture would have seemed incredibly rude and cocky if Rosalie's voice hadn't been so quiet.

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding like a child being scolded by her mom. "But don't you agree that it's so backwards, and-"

"There are plenty of things in this world that are backwards," Rosalie interrupted. "Believe me, it rips my heart out. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. And if the people don't want help, then you can't help them."

"But I want them to have better lives, and-" Hermione's ears began to emit green light.

"Hermione," Harry said. "They're happy. Until they're not, what better life can you give them?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped. Rosalie patted one. "Listen," she said. "My parents used to volunteer at this abuse shelter in San Francisco when I was younger… and people would stay years and years in bad situations and we could never help them until they came to us. And sometimes they would go back and… we had to let them. It stunk bad, Hermione. So, I think I may understand a little how you might feel when we say that you can't help the elves right now. Because there's a lot of men and women that I can't help either."

Hermione thought about this, nodded, and a weight lifted off of Harry's shoulder. They weren't asking Hermione to give it all up. They were asking her to move it to her back pocket. There were bigger fish to fry already on the hook – the ones in the lake could wait.

Also, San Francisco must be a lot closer to New York than he'd thought. Harry had never been taught the placement of the states or cities in school. They'd only learned where the United States was and the states were meant to be taught when you were thirteen or fourteen. But he knew where New York was (because everyone knew where New York was) and Florida because it had Disney World. Los Angeles was on the other side, and San Francisco must be somewhere between Disney World and New York on the east coast… possibly not too far from Las Vegas? Wasn't that in the desert someplace?

Also, Harry knew that there were fifty states, but could only confidently name about four of them. Virginia, New York, Florida, and California.

When Rosalie put a bit of distance between her and Hermione, Harry moved in to give her a quick hug. "Come on," he said. "You've still got a war going with these horcruxes."

Early the next morning, Hagrid found Professor Umbridge. She had been gone for a day and a half, though so much had gone on that Harry had not thought much about her other than "Good riddance." It hadn't even clicked in his mind that she'd been cast into the Forbidden Forest without a wand until he heard of the unfortunate circumstance she'd been found in.

Apparently, Umbridge had run afoul of the centaurs and wound up in Hagrid's garden, muddy, bleeding from multiple wounds, and with rope burns around her ankles. She seemed to have been strung up by her heels and thwacked with a stick a great many times. On top of that, she had several Dugbog teeth marks on her arms and legs, a nasty poison ivy rash, and mosquito bites galore.

The Castle would not allow Umbridge farther than Hagrid's hut, so Hagrid had carried her firmly off grounds and McGonagall had gotten out of bed to apparate her away. They had first tried to wake Harry and see if he could undo it, but he could not, and neither could Draco or Hermione. Rosalie was off somewhere, much to Flitwick's chagrin.

The Daily Prophet printed that morning a very short paragraph in the middle of the sheet about how there was rumoured to have been a change at Hogwarts, but no one had written back with many details yet. It appeared that the Hat's Fidelius Charm – or the Castle's, whichever – had worked. Harry had not known you could Fidelius information instead of just a house, but apparently you could.

This was good, he thought. Because if word got to Draco's parents about his house change or new assignment… it could be rough for him. Harry wanted his best mates to be safe and Draco was in that circle now.

Draco joined him at the Gryffindor table with his own copy shortly after the owls brought them. Harry didn't technically receive the Prophet, but was reading Hermione's version while he waited for her to wake up.

"Reckon Umbridge will be able to tell the ministry anything more than they've printed?" Harry asked as Draco sat down.

"Dunno," Draco said. Ron was approaching as well and Draco was still keeping an eye on him as Ron sat down. "I mean, she tried. But once she figures out she's not allowed on the grounds, Cornelius will get mad about that."

"They already tried to sack Dumbledore, right?"

"They're trying, is what I heard," Draco said. "My father wrote about it in his last letter. But to be honest, Harry, I think that when Hogwarts put us in as Heads-in-Training, it meant for the school board to be dissolved. I don't think they can vote to remove him. Especially not if they can't come onto the grounds."

"Then what?" Harry asked. "And what about next year?"

"Hogwarts is the only magical school in the country," Ron said. "The Purebloods can always be home-taught. But the muggle-borns will still come. My dad reckons more Muggle Borns come in than Purebloods because there's so few of us nowadays."

Harry looked in between Draco and Ron to see if a fight would break out about this, but one did not. He bit into a strip of bacon.

"Did you notice our extra surveillance?" Draco asked after a long pause.

Both Ron and Harry squinted at Draco. "No," Harry mumbled around his bacon. "I didn't."

Draco moved his shoulders from side to side and one popped. "Professor Sprout checked in on me last night," he said. "Midnight. Came up to my bed and everything. To make sure I was where I needed to be."

The gears in Harry's head were turning very slowly. "You mean…"

"I mean not with Rosalie in either the new rooms or her dorm." Draco smirked at Harry. "I knew you were daft with girls, Potter, but this is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Oh!" Harry put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Malfoy!"

"Could've fooled me!"

Harry picked up a bit of bacon and flung it at Draco to shut him up, then took another bite, shaking his head. Draco was laughing. "The rooms aren't even refurbished yet – why are they so paranoid?"

"Because they think we'll have a go on that nasty floor?" Draco snorted. "So McGonagall didn't check on you?"

"I was dead tired, Draco. Voldemort could have danced at the foot of my bed and I wouldn't be any the wiser."

"That seems to be a common thread with you, being none the wiser."

"I swear, Merlin's beard, Draco!" Harry picked up another food item – a grape this time – and hurled it at Malfoy. The cocky freak caught it in between his teeth. That shut him up laughing long enough for Harry to realise Ron was trying very hard to not spit his oatmeal out beside him. "Seriously, mate? Whose side are you on?"

Ron forced down a swallow. "I'm sorry, but that was really funny," he whispered, still shaking.

Harry heard an owl screech and recognised it as Draco's. Seconds later, Owlbert landed beside Draco's plate with an extremely fancy letter in his beak.

"How can he screech and still be holding the letter?" Ron asked. This, Harry thought, was a very good question.

"He tosses it in the air and catches it again," Draco replied, scratching Owlbert's head before taking the letter. "Only takes about five seconds. He does it for attention." The owl nipped at his ear.

"You have a lot in common, I see," Ron observed. Harry snorted and tried to not siphon any crumbs from his toast up his sinuses.

"Now listen here, Weasley," Draco said, not appearing immediately cross. "You may sit here at long as you're helping me poke fun at Harry. The second you begin poking fun at me-"

"This is my table!" Ron protested. "I'll poke fun at whoever I bloody well-"

"Good morning love," Harry interrupted. He'd caught a glimpse of Hermione approaching behind Draco. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning," she said, and paused by Harry's side for a quick kiss that made him feel a bit like the whistle on the Hogwarts Express. Then, because Harry was on the end of the table and Ron was already sat beside him, she went across the table to sit beside Malfoy, across from Ron and kitty-corner to Harry. "I was out the entire night. How about you?"

"I told Malfoy Voldemort could have danced at the foot of my bed and I wouldn't have woken up."

"Do you usually call him Malfoy, or Draco?" Ron asked.

"It depends on how much of a git he's being." Harry aimed a kick at Draco's legs under the table. Malfoy attempted to move, but didn't quite do it in time, so Harry caught half of Malfoy's shin and half the air behind it. Malfoy grimaced and continued reading his letter.

"No nightmares then?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, I did have one, but I didn't wake up from it." He'd been on the cusp of forgetting it actually, and was slightly annoyed Hermione had asked about it.

"That's out of the norm," Ron said. "Not that I'm complaining. It's nice for us to get a full night's rest too."

Guilt melted into Harry's form. "I'm sorry, Ron…"

"It's alright, mate. Not easy on anyone, least of all you."

"Harry," Draco said from his side of the table. He was pursing his lips at the letter in his hands. "My father has mentioned the Dark Lord has ordered a visit to Little Whinging tonight."

Hermione had grabbed herself some breakfast in the form of eggs and toast. At Malfoy's announcement, she scraped the plate with her knife in her haste to set it down and look over Draco's shoulder. Draco normally would react badly to her doing either of those things, but on this occasion, he tilted the letter and pointed out the paragraph. "You'll be pleased to know we're paying a special visit to Little Whinging tonight…" she read aloud and then looked up at Harry.

Harry was very still for a moment. "My aunt and uncle should be protected," he said. "I spent a whole month with them last July – that should have done it! Dumbledore said-"

"Calm down," Draco commanded. "I'm reading ahead, and you being angry is distracting me. Shut up." Several seconds passed. "We have gleaned some information that this unassuming neighbourhood may be hiding some costly secrets and-"

"Right, I'm telling Dumbledore," Hermione said, getting to her feet.

"Telling Dumbledore what?" Ron demanded.

"Little Whinging is where Harry's family are," Hermione explained impatiently. "He's got to be the only wizard living in the whole suburbia!"

"But Dumbledore said-"

"I know what Dumbledore said!" Hermione was marching away now at a high speed, on her way to the Head Table. Harry scrambled out of his seat to follow her. Dumbledore had just barely sat down when Hermione was upon him, speaking so fast that Harry couldn't understand how Dumbledore would possibly understand her. Still, he nodded along serenely and by the time that Harry had made it up front, Dumbledore had made a decision for them.

"Thank you for the warning, Ms. Granger. I will ask the Order to protect the home even more than normal, and I will notify you if anything happens. The wards around the home are strong, but Harry was not at home much last summer. It is possible that they are a little low in power and that has allowed Lord Voldemort to find the premises."

At these words, all of the blood drained into Harry's feet. He had thought the month he'd spent with the Dursley's would have been enough? He'd always left on his birthday in years gone by. But a little voice spoke in the back of his mind, reminding him of all the times over the summer he had slept in the house and then been gone with the sunrise to walk the streets aimlessly until it was time to go back home. Even when the dementors had attacked, he had not been at home. He'd been two or three streets away.

He became aware that Hermione and Dumbledore were both looking at him with frowns. "Wot?" he asked.

"Whatever you're planning on doing, don't do it," Hermione said. "Dumbledore said it should be fine. He's got the Order on it."

"I'm not planning on anything!" Harry said, though his tongue felt a bit fat in his mouth while he said it.

Dumbledore reached up and put his hands behind his ears to fold them forward. It took Harry a second to make the connection and he slapped his hands over his own ears, sure they were turning bright Gryffindor-red.

"If something happens, I will report personally to your aunt and uncle's residence," Dumbledore promised. "You are underage and not allowed to perform magic outside of school. You will stay here, and make sure the ministry doesn't come while I'm gone."

Harry simmered a little but nodded. All were good points, he knew, and he was too far away anyway.

The ministry attempted to come knocking later that day. It was quite a timely decision, considering Umbridge had only been at Saint Mungo's for six hours. But Cornelius Fudge arrived on the grounds and walked to the entry door without any problem, where Dumbledore met him.

Harry and Hermione and Ron had gone for a walk around the lake, where Harry and Hermione had filled Ron in on what Dumbledore had decided would be done with the old Founder's Rooms. But when they saw Fudge arrive, they dashed up to see what would happen.

"Ho-hum, Headmaster!" Cornelius said, not looking pleased in the slightest. "I've come to discuss the state High Inquisitor Umbridge was discovered in! Such a state… never imagined it was possible… here at Hogwarts."

"I can assure you that we can explain everything to you," Dumbledore said. "However, we'll need to pop out to have that conversation, as there are far too many ears around here."

"Quite right!" Fudge spotted Harry, Hermione, and Ron, panting. His eye fixed on Hermione in particular. He squinted, as if he remembered her. "Shall we retire to your office, then?"

"Unfortunately, not today," Dumbledore said. "As you are aware, the castle is very old, somewhat conscious magic. It has decided, after Professor Umbridge attacked a student, that it doesn't like Ministry Officials. I'm honestly surprised you made it this far."

Fudge was bewildered. "The castle has decided it doesn't like the ministry?" His expression turned to doubt. "Now, Dumbledore, I don't know anything about Delores attacking a student… goodness knows she's too beside herself to speak at the moment… but any attempt to keep the ministry out of Hogwarts is grounds to have you sacked!"

"I understand, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "I believe we can organize this all at the Hog's Head. How about a drink, on me?"

"The Hog's Head?" Fudge did not look too thrilled to make the walk. "Now?"

"I'll send word ahead," Dumbledore said. "But Cornelius, the student who Professor Umbridge attacked does intend to press charges. Perhaps you would find it prudent to find a lawyer if you intend to attempt to reinstate Umbridge? She has already been gathering evidence."

"Evidence!" Fudge's eyebrows shot up. "Has she got any?"

"Well, Cornelius, I'm not her lawyer, however-"

"Has she got any witnesses?"

"All of Hogwarts, Cornelius."

Harry couldn't deny that he was quite enjoying this exchange. Fudge seemed to be experimenting with the range of normal facial colouring. He was now approaching the impossible magenta that Hermione had attempted to explain was really just green that your brain was tricking you into thinking was red.

Dumbledore straightened his robes. "I'd be more than happy to explain the situation to you at the Hog's Head. However, given this legal situation with Professor Umbridge, she is ineligible to teach until it is resolved. The student in question has given me her lawyer's information, here-" Dumbledore handed over a Muggle business card that looked extremely professional. Black with gold engraving. "-and has said any attempt to correspond with her instead of her lawyer will result in additional charges being pressed."

"Good lord!" Fudge exclaimed. "Is that all? Why was I not notified immediately?"

"Well, Cornelius, there has been some chaos involved in the matter, as Hogwarts reacted quite peculiarly in throwing Professor Umbridge out and we, of course, needed to ensure the safety of our student. No sooner did I have time to reach out did I hear you were here already. The owl I was intending to send to you is probably still up waiting by my desk, but I was nervous that you, too, would be expelled from the grounds before I got here."

The explanation was a good one and was completely lost on Cornelius. He was too busy examining the card to pay attention. "Merlin's Beard!" he said, "What are these numbers here?"

"A Muggle phone number," Dumbledore said patiently. "I have been told this lawyer works in both worlds. The lawsuit is based on both Ministry laws and laws from the United Kingdom."

The blood drained out of Cornelius's face. "Well!" he said, a solid octave higher than normal. "Well! Well! Well!" He tucked the card away and turned a full circle to look at his peers, who looked just as shocked as he. He did see Harry and stopped to give him a once-over, then looked to Hermione. "Say, Ms. Granger, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, Minister Fudge," Hermione said. The way she said 'Minister' sounded awfully in the same tone she used to reserve exclusively for Malfoy. Harry distinctly remembered the right hook she'd given Malfoy back when he was a prat in third year. He doubted, though a boy could hope, that Fudge would be receiving a similar one.

"We met last year, didn't we?" he asked. "Brightest Witch of your age? Up in the papers next to-" He used his cane to gesture to Harry vaguely without looking at him again.

Dumbledore began shaking his head at Hermione behind Fudge, but Fudge was directly in line of sight, and Hermione couldn't see Dumbledore. "Yes, Minister Fudge," she repeated.

Fudge looked her up and down, similarly to what he'd done to Harry. "Weren't you a Gryffindor then?" he asked.

Everyone – even Hermione – looked down at her tie and kerchief. A little of Harry's heart fell down into his gut. But Hermione looked up, unfazed. "I'd honestly forgot I was wearing this," she said in the lightest air possible. "I lost a bet. Have to wear Slytherin colours for the day."

Genius. Absolute genius. Exactly the sort of adolescent humour that Fudge would expect. And he immediately accepted it.

"Right," he said. "Well, good day… what was your name again?"

"Ms. Granger," Hermione said.

"Right. Ms. Granger… Mr. Weasley… Potter… Good day." He began to wander away. Dumbledore did not move, so neither did Harry, Ron, or Hermione. About ten paces away, Fudge whirled back around. "Ah, Dumbledore, what time…?"

Dumbledore looked at his watch as if he'd not been expecting the question. "Let's do an early tea at four, perhaps?" he asked.

"Right," Fudge agreed.

"Does that give you enough time, Cornelius?" Dumbledore called after him.

But Fudge wandered away, muttering "Right… yes… very good…" to himself. He was soon out of earshot.

"Reckon Rosalie can win that case?" Ron asked. "It'd be right awful if Umbridge got put back in."

"I would be shocked if Rosalie didn't win," Hermione replied. "She's had first pickings at the evidence and I bet you she's worked with this lawyer before if they're willing to take the case on this quickly. Fudge could tell as well." She turned back towards the school. "She's already got the blood quills, pictures from Colin Creevey of the wound on her face, Filch's statement on Corporeal Punishment, and the entire school willing to testify, aside from a few of the old Slytherin gang."

Dumbledore let them pass without much of a glance, which still made Harry a bit mad. Even though Dumbledore had actually been speaking to them since the weekend, it had been months of being ignored and Harry still didn't understand why.

"What kind of sixteen-year-old just has a lawyer?" Ron huffed. They all began heading to Gryffindor Tower, even though Hermione had been advised by McGonagall and Snape not to visit.

"Rosalie's American," Harry said. "She-"

"It's more than that, Harry," Hermione interrupted. "Ron's asking the question we all aught to be asking. Lawyers are expensive. Rosalie has a car – a very nice car for an underage driver – and no family to live with, if our suspicions are correct. Where's all this coming from?"

Harry shrugged. He found it a little uncomfortable to talk about people with money in front of Ron and wondered if Ron would begin complaining soon. "Maybe she just invests it?" he suggested. That was all he knew to do with money you didn't spend. Uncle Vernon was always yelling at the telly about investing your money. "Unemployment's up! Should have invested your money!" he'd shout.

"It doesn't work like that either, Harry." Hermione huffed against the incline of the stairs. "You have to have money to invest it. The interest on nothing is still nothing."

They got to the common room and Hermione had to reluctantly step aside so Ron could give the password. He could tell it was a bitter moment for her. Even though Slytherin was a better fit for her personality, Gryffindor had been home for ages and ages. Nothing had changed aside from the new door in the wall.

Which a number of second years immediately jumped up to beg Harry to open. "Harry! Harry, can we see the new room?" Dennis Creevey asked. "Have they moved Godric Gryffindor yet?"

"Er… I think so." Harry glanced at his hand with the red Gryffindor tattoo and then went over and twisted the knob. As far as they could tell, no one else could open it, even though they were all in Gryffindor. "But hold on a second, okay?" he said. "We've got to check something." The second-years all nodded. Harry opened the door very slowly and, to his relief, Godric Gryffindor was gone, along with his bed. The carpet in the room and some of the sparse furniture still had yet to go, but he figured it'd take the elves some time.

"Okay," he told the second years. "This one is fine. But I won't be able to let you in all the time, okay? Dumbledore made some plans for the room yesterday."

There were some sounds of disappointment, but they all spread out in the room. Harry knew they would get bored of what remained of the old furniture soon, so he went to the other door and peaked in.

The circular room had been completely cleaned out. It smelled absolutely awful. Not mould and bug and rot awful, but bleach and mould killer and drywall awful. Ron gagged and pulled his robes up over his nose. Harry quickly shut the door. "They're still working on this one," he said to the second-years. "I don't think it's good to be breathing that junk."

He went back into the common room and sat down on one of the available loveseats by the fire. "Oi, Ron," he called. "Up for a game of chess?"

"Mate, any other day," Ron called back. "But with Snape's essay due tomorrow, I'd better not."

"We have homework due tomorrow?" Hermione asked, emerging from Godric Gryffindor's door and leaving it open so the others could get out. Then, seeing Ron's and Harry's faces, quickly backtracked. "I mean… you're doing your homework… without me reminding you?"

"So, it's true, then," Harry said. "All these years, we joked that the Slytherins got less… and they actually do?"

"Maybe he's just not assigned it yet?" Hermione suggested, drifting by Harry to sit in her old favourite armchair. Harry tried to reach out to snag her hand and pull her to sit by him, but she moved too quickly, and he was left grabbing air as Ron took the seat beside him. That was alright. He pretended he was flexing his hand instead. Hermione noticed and reached over to take it. That felt like a good compromise.

Despite Harry and Ron having homework to do, they sat and chatted until more students came by and saw Harry had opened the new room. Their excitement prompted Harry and Ron to run upstairs and get parchment. When Harry got back downstairs, Fred Weasley had shut a bunch of students inside and Hermione was trying to open the door, to no avail. He quickly let out the second-years and was about to shut the door permanently when Hermione decided to cross through to Slytherin for her own homework so they could do it together. She used a bubblehead charm to walk across the room and Harry left the door open just a crack so she could return.

"I think I'm getting used to you two dating," Ron said when he sat back down. "It's a good thing you aren't gross about it."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to this, so he sat down and titled his essay.

The sun went down. Hermione watched it in between homework assignments. "Dumbledore must have met with Fudge by now," she muttered when she saw the rays of light begin to hit the ceiling instead of the wall.

Harry had forgotten about Fudge, to be honest. He kept looking between the fireplace and the window, wondering if he'd get an update on Privet Drive.

"D'ya think it's time for dinner?" Ron asked.

A sudden pain flashed through Harry's scar and he grabbed his forehead with a shout. It was so bad that he curled up his form and pulled his head in between his knees. More pain… more pain… then the image of a crazed witch on her knees, grinning up at him. More pain, and suddenly he was looking at the street sign for Privet Drive. Counting homes… 10, 8, 6, and 2.

And in a flash, he was back on the couch in Gryffindor tower, with both Ron and Hermione shaking him. "I… I think he's there," Harry said. "Voldemort… he's looking for their house number."

The next chapter will be called The Battle of Privet Drive. I will post it early if I get five reviews.