Hello there, welcome my friends to the next chapter.
Hope you enjoy it.
When Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived in the morning she smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page and gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her.
"What?" Harry, Claire, Alex, Ron and Neville said.
For answer she spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards faces and the tenth, a witch's. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.
Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
Algernon Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.
Mass Breakout from Azkaban,
"Maybe that's what he was happy about last night." Alex said as Hermione ripped open the newspaper and began to read the report inside while Claire looked around the Great Hall.
She could not understand why her fellow students were not looking scared or at least discussing the terrible piece of news on the front page, but very few of them took the newspaper every day like Hermione. There they all were, talking about homework and Quidditch and who knew what other rubbish, when outside these walls nine more Death Eaters had swollen Voldemort's ranks.
Hagrid walked past the table, he was still as heavily bruised as he had been on the day he had come back from his mission to the giants and there was a new cut right across the bridge of his nose.
"All right, you lot?" he said, trying to muster a smile but managing only a kind of pained grimace.
"Are you alright, Hagrid?", Harry asked, following him as he lumbered after the Ravenclaw's.
"Fine, fine." Hagrid said with a feeble assumption of airiness; he waved a hand and narrowly missed concussing a frightened-looking Professor Vector, who was passing, "Just busy, yeh know, usual stuff. Lessons ter prepare, couple of salamanders got scale rot and I'm on probation."
"You are on probation?" Ron said very loudly, so that many of the passing students looked around curiously, "Sorry... I mean... you're on probation?"
"Yeah. Is no more than I expected, ta tell ya the truth.", Hagrid said, "Ya might not have picked up on it, but that inspection didn't go too well, ya know... Best go an rub a bit more chilli powder on them salamanders or their tails will be hanging off them next. See ya." He trudged away, out of the front doors and down the stone steps into the damp grounds.
The fact that Hagrid was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it; indeed, some people, Draco Malfoy prominent among them, seemed positively gleeful.
There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: the nine escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers.
Rumor's were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius had once done.
Those who came from wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's, the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors.
On the upside of things, going by the conversation in the corridors of Hogwarts, most students were not satisfied with the Prophet's version of how and why nine Death Eaters had managed to break out of the Azkaban fortress.
It was not only the students' mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching.
"...Do you want to know the worst part?" Charles said as he was talking with Severus and Flitwick.
"What?" Flitwick said.
"They where roommates!" Charles said.
But before he could continue, a fuming McGonagall comes walking up to them, "I have had enough of Delores Umbridge!" McGonagall said.
"Well of course! Everyone does!" Charles said throwing up his arms, "And you've ruined the punchline of my story, so thank you, Minerva."
"If she spoke over me one more time." McGonagall fumed, "I'm going to give her a bibbity bobbity backhand."
"...Forget I said anything." Charles said placing his hands on his hips, "Let's talk about tis."
"It's the insufferable coughing for me." Severus said with his arms crossed.
"Yeah, splattering her germs all over the place is rather grim." Charles said, tilting his head in annoyance as Trelawney had just walked past who let out a gasp, "Just grim in general, Sybill, not the Grim."
"The Weasley twins are going to blow her up." Trelawney said.
"Enough about your nonsense." Charles dismissed her as he turned to the others, "The adults are talking."
"Doesn't explain why your talking." Severus said dryly.
"I know exactly why Umbridge is like tis." Charles said, "She's a Virgo. Most serial killers are Virgos."
"Charles, your a Virgo." Flitwick pointed out.
"No, I'm not." Charles corrected, "I'm a Genius."
"No, your not." Severus said shaking his head.
"Pretty sure I am." Charles said with a nod as he spotted his favorite six Gryffindor's walk past.
"They obviously can't talk freely in the staff room any more." Hermione said in a low voice, as she, Harry, Claire, Alex, Ron and Neville passed the Professors, "Not with Umbridge there."
"Don't think Jeager would care." Claire said.
"Reckon they know anything new?", Ron said, gazing back over his shoulder at the teachers.
"If they do, we are not going to hear about it." Claire said, "Especially not after Decree... which one are we on? 626?"
A new notices had appeared on the house noticeboards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:
By Order Of The Hight Inquisitor Of Hogwarts
Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.
Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"
Which resulted in him getting detention and when they next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly.
They had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under the nose of her beloved Fudge.
Unfortunately, it seemed to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.
It seemed that Umbridge was steadily depriving them of everything that made life at Hogwarts worth living so they took revenge the only way they could, by redoubling efforts for Overwatch.
Sephylon was pleased that the news of the escaped Death Eaters had motivated them to work even harder than before, but in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville.
He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when they were practicing, the Shield Charm only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville. It even came to a point where he could keep up for a while in a one-on-one duel with Claire.
"Harry, Claire." Sephylon said at the end of the session, "Do you have a moment?"
"Sure." Harry said as everyone else went on ahead.
"I shall be quick." Sephylon said turning to Harry, "I heard what happened around Christmas, how are you holding up?"
"I am fine now." Harry said, "I've been taking Occlumency lessons with Snape."
"Good, good. While those vision could prove useful, it's only a matter of time before Voldemort learns of it and use it against you." Sephylon said, reaching into his cloak and removing a silver pendent, "I want you to keep it with you at all time. If you press it I will meet you in tis room. If your unable to meet me, keep your fingers on it for five seconds and I will come as soon as I can."
"Now for why I wished to speak to you both. I know your both busy with your O.W.L. coming up, but I wish to take some time each day to teach you both a spell." Sephylon said, "Until you have mastered Occlumency, I cannot fully explain what it does. But it will be a trump card against Voldemort when the time comes."
"Sounds like a powerful spell." Claire said, "But if there is a spell that's so powerful, why haven't you used it on him yet?"
"It's a development has been a long and hard journey, only recently I have perfected it." Sephylon said shaking his head, "I wish I could say more, but I can't without possibly Voldemort becoming aware of it."
But Harry's Occlumency lessons which had started badly enough, were not improving. On the contrary, Harry felt he was getting worse with every lesson.
"It feels like the lessons with Snape are making it worse." Harry said flatly, rubbing his forehead angrily as he and Claire sat in the library, "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting and I'm getting bored with walking down that corridor every night. I just wish the door would open, I'm sick of standing staring at it..."
"And top of that you have Snape trying to get inside your head..." Claire said, "That doesn't sound like a fun evening to me."
"Yeah, I can think of so many ways to have fun." Harry said leaning in.
"Well then, perhaps you should show me?" Claire said with a smirk, but instead of kissing him, she placed a finger on his lips, "But not before you finish your homework."
"Oh, come on." Harry said as he sat back and got back to work, "There is so much!"
"Such a shame." Claire said with a sigh, "I was going to let you do anal tonight."
"Nice!" Alex said from behind a pile of books.
"How long have you been here?" Claire said.
"That's my secret." Alex said with a grin, "I'm always there."
With so much to worry about and so much to do, startling amounts of homework that frequently kept the fifth-years working until past midnight, secret Overwatch sessions and half hour privet lesson from Sephylon, January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast.
Before they knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year. On the morning of the fourteenth, the others did so long over getting down that it was Alex and Hermione at breakfast for so long the post owls had already arrived.
"And about time! If it hadn't come today..." she said, eagerly tearing open the envelope and pulling out a small piece of parchment. Her eyes sped from left to right as she read through the message and a grimly pleased expression spread across her face.
"I like that expression." Alex said, "That's the 'I got a devilish plan' expression."
"You could say that." Hermione said, "Alex, I might need your help."
"You have but to ask, Hermione." Alex said with a smile, "Alright, I got the perfect plan to kill Umbridge and not only to get away with it, but we might actually turn a huge profit from it."
"Harry, you look nice." Claire said, having taken the time to dress herself particularly carefully herself.
"You look better." Harry said rubbing the nape of his neck, "Did you do something with your hair?"
"Oh, just a bit of magic." she said happy he had noticed.
They arrived at breakfast just as Alex finished talking. "...Then we inherit the tropical island with more money than we can ever spend, living the rest of our lives in luxury. Of course, the downside is that we can never show our face again in the Netherlands."
"Alex... I'm not sure how to tell you this." Hermione said before taking a deep sigh, "But that's brilliant. And I'm actually tempted to accept, if it wasn't for this whole Voldemort business."
"...What did we miss?" Claire said confused.
Hermione was about to respond but Alex quickly shook his head, motioning her to be silent. "Don't tell them." he hissed, "They would want in."
"Right." Hermione said with a nod, "Okay listen, Claire. This is really important. Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"
"I guess." Claire said, exchanging a glance with Harry, having hoped they could have spend the entire day together.
"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly.", Hermione said and she hurried out of the Great Hall, the letter clutched in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.
It was a fresh, breezy sort of a day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium and headed towards Hogsmeade.
"So... Where do you want to go?" Claire asked, holding hands with Harry as they entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.
"Oh..." Harry said, shrugging, "I don't know."
"We're making it up as we go?" Claire said with a smile, "Sounds like us."
A large poster had been stuck up in the windows and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it. They moved aside when Harry and Claire approached and the group found themselves staring once more at the pictures of the nine escaped Death Eaters.
The poster, 'By Order of the Ministry of Magic', offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured.
"When Sirius escaped there were Dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him, but now nine Death Eaters are on the loose and there are no Dementors anywhere..." Claire said as they continue their way, "I mean come on."
"Yeah." Harry said as he glanced up and down the High Street, "Yeah, that is weird."
The absence of Dementors was highly significant. They had not only let the Death Eaters escape, they weren't bothering to look for them... it looked as though they really were outside Ministry control now.
The nine escaped Death Eaters were staring out of every shop window the two couples passed. They walked up a side road and they spotted a small teashop that they had never noticed before.
Seeing no reason not to, the two stepped in for a drink. It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows.
Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge's office. "Good Lord, I hope tis is only for Valentine's Day." Claire said, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.
"I hope so." Harry said, "Because even I think she might have gone overboard with it." as they sat down at a table over by the steamy window.
"What can I get you, m'dears?" Madam Puddifoot said, a very stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezing between their table with great difficulty.
"A coffee, black please." Claire ordered, "Same for you?"
"Sure." he said.
The two were talking about Umbridge, and they passed a few moments abusing her, but the subject had already been so thoroughly canvassed during Overwatch meetings it did not last very long.
"Have you thought about what you wanted to do once we graduate?" Claire said.
"Not really." Harry said, "You?"
"Me neither." she said, shaking her head.
When they stepped out of the door, it was raining hard now. Claire raised her wand to the sky, producing a semi-transparent, bluish umbrella of magical energy that shielded them from the rain.
"Better stay close." Claire said as they sloshed down the rain-washed street, "Or else you might get wet."
"I look good when I'm wet." Harry said.
"Maybe, but you'll get sick." Claire said, "Then you will whine and Hermione will complain why I didn't do anything, Alex will make a horrible joke and Ron and Neville will be there. All really annoying."
Once they entered the Three Broomsticks, she heard a voice calling their names.
"Harry! Claire! Over here!"
Hermione was waving at from the other side of the room. The duo made their way towards her through the crowded pub. They were still a few tables away when they realized that Hermione was not alone. She was with Alex, and with them: Luna and none other than Rita Skeeter, ex-journalist on the Daily Prophet, who had gone missing the last year and one of Hermione's least favorite people in the world.
"What are you up to?" Harry asked, sitting down and staring from Rita to Luna to Hermione.
"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived.", Rita said, taking a large slurp of her drink, "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to him, am I?" she shot at Hermione.
"Yes, I suppose you are." Hermione said coldly.
She took another great gulp of her drink and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Pretty girl, is she, Harry?" she indicated Claire.
"I don't think my love life is of any concern to you." Harry said irritably.
"Oh, one of these days..." she took a deep shuddering breath.
"I know right? I've been trying to ask for details for years to no avail." Alex said, "Where here to get a bit of truth out!"
"What's going on?" Claire said.
"You actually stick to it, do you, that He Who Must Not Be Named is back?" Rita said, lowering her glass and subjecting Claire to a piercing stare while her finger strayed longingly to the clasp of the crocodile bag, "You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you and that French witch being the sole witnesses?"
"We weren't the only ones!" Claire said, "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. I wouldn't have gotten away with it if it wasn't for Cruel Angel."
"I'd love their names." Rita breathed, now fumbling in her bag once more and gazing at him as though she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, "A great bold headline: 'Kent Heir Accuses...' A sub-heading, "Claire Kent Names Death Eaters Still Among Us'. And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you, 'Disturbed teenage survivors of You-Know-Who's attack, Claire Kent, age 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the wizarding community of being Death Eaters...'."
The Quick-Quotes Quill was actually in her hand and halfway to her mouth when the rapturous expression on her face died.
"But of course." she said, lowering the quill and looking daggers at Hermione, "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"
"As a matter of fact." Hermione said sweetly, "That's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want."
Rita stared at her. So did Harry and Claire. Alex was playing a card game named gwent with Luna, as she sang 'Weasley is our King' dreamily under her breath.
"You want me to report what she says about He Who Must Not Be Named?" Rita asked Hermione in a hushed voice.
"Are you deaf or something?" Alex said, glancing at them, "Yes, she does."
"Indeed I do." Hermione said, "The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Claire reports them. She will give you all the details, all the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters they saw there, she will tell you what Voldemort looks like now... Oh, stop being a bitch, bitch." she added contemptuously, throwing a napkin across the table, for, at the sound of Voldemort's name, Rita had jumped so badly she had slopped half her glass of Firewhisky down herself.
Rita blotted the front of her grubby raincoat, still staring at Hermione. Then she said baldly, "The Prophet wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes her cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks he's delusional. Now, if you let me write the story from that angle..."
"We don't need another story about how Claire's lost her marbles!" Alex said angrily, "We have had plenty of those already, thank you!"
"Yes, I want her given the opportunity to tell the truth.", Hermione added.
"There's no market for a story like that." Rita said coldly.
"You mean the Prophet won't print it because Fudge won't let them." Harry told her.
Rita gave Harry a long, hard look. Then, leaning forwards across the table towards Hermione, she said in a businesslike tone, "All right, Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Claire, in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Who's back."
"So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" Claire said, crossing her arms, "Why am I not surprised?"
Rita sat up straight again, her eyebrows raised, and drained her glass of Firewhisky, "The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl." she said coldly
"My dad thinks it's an awful paper." Luna said, chipping into the conversation unexpectedly. Sucking on her cocktail onion, she gazed at Rita with her enormous, protuberant, slightly mad eye, "He publishes important stories he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."
Rita looked disparagingly at Luna, "I am guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?" she said, "Probably, Twenty-five Ways to Mingle With Muggles and the dates of the next Bring and Fly Sale?"
"No. He's the editor of The Quibbler.", Luna said, dipping her onion back into her Gillywater, before placing a card down.
Rita snorted so loudly that people at a nearby table looked round in alarm. "Important stories he thinks the public needs to know, eh?" she said witheringly, "I could manure my garden with the contends of that rag."
"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit, isn't it?" Hermione said pleasantly, "Luna says her father's quite happy to take Claire's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."
Rita stared at them both for a moment, then let out a great whoop of laughter, "The Quibbler!" she said, cackling, "You think people will take her seriously if he's published in The Quibbler!"
"Some people won't." Claire said in a level voice, "But the Daily Prophet's version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story available, even if it is published in an unusual magazine, they might be rather keen to read it."
Rita didn't say anything for a while, "All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it." she said abruptly, "What kind of fee am I going to get?"
"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine." Luna said dreamily, "They do it because it's an honor and, of course, to see their names in print."
Rita Skeeter looked as though the taste of Stinksap was strong in her mouth again as she rounded on Hermione, "I'm supposed to do this for free?"
"Well, yes." Hermione said calmly, taking a sip of her drink, "Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban."
Rita looked as though she would have liked nothing better than to seize the paper umbrella sticking out of Hermione's drink and thrust it up her nose. "I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" Rita said, her voice shaking slightly. She opened her crocodile bag once more, withdrew a piece of parchment, and raised her Quick-Quotes Quill.
"Daddy will be pleased." Luna said brightly, a muscle twitched in Rita's jaw.
"I'm showing so much restrain right now..." Alex mumbled, "Did I grow as a person?... Obviously not."
"Alright. Claire?" Hermione said, turning to her, "Ready to tell the public the truth?"
The girl turned to her boyfriend, showing the encouraging look in his green eyes. As if to affirm he would be there for her, he tightened his grip on her hand for a few moments.
"Alright then." she said, "Let's do tis."
And that is, chapter over. Hope you enjoyed.
Many thanks to everyone who reads, favorite, follows or reviews this chapter. If you enjoy my work, don't forget to leave a review and I hope to see you beauties next time.
Mischief Managed.