Chapter 132: Taking up the Fight
The Prime Minister sat in his office, trying to relax after his meeting with Cornelius Fudge. No matter how many times the man popped into his office, he'd never grow accustomed to it.
His five o'clock entered the room shortly after, having planned his visit around Fudge's. The tall man had an unusually well-kept appearance, including a suit that the Minister was sure was new. He held a briefcase in his hand, which no doubt contained information the Minister would soon despise.
"Eric," the Minister said. "Where's your boss?"
"Engaged elsewhere, I'm afraid."
The Minister motioned to an empty seat, which his guest gladly took.
"New suit?"
"You know the boss," Eric said, "she insists on giving the best impression possible."
"If I'd known you were going to get all dressed up for me, I would've taken you somewhere nice."
They exchanged a laugh over that. With everything happening… a new string of murders, infrastructure destroyed, and his rivals claiming it was all his fault… he was glad for the familiar company.
"I don't suppose any of you can shed more light on the situation?" he asked.
"That depends on which situation you mean."
Eric sat up straight, his eyes trained like a hawk. As the Minister had learned from working with him, the man didn't miss anything. He'd tested that once by making Eric close his eyes and recite the entire layout of the room. Just to make sure Eric didn't cheat, the Minister had shifted things around in his office while Eric's eyes had been closed. Eric had caught everything. If he wasn't always swept for bugs at the door, the Minister would've thought he'd hidden a radio on his person to feed him the information.
"You damn well know what situation I mean," the Minister said. "These murders, these attacks. Fudge tried to give me the runaround again, claiming they were managing it on his end, but that's a load of crap. I know a failing politician when I see one. Fudge is on his way out. It hit the fan, and now he's burning for it."
Eric sized him up for a moment. The Minister hated it when he did that. It meant Eric knew more than he was saying, and he was determining how much to tell him. The Minister had already gone through the whole condescension routine with Fudge a moment ago.
"Here's what we know," Eric said. "That wizard we've told you about, the one that was in power back in '81, he's come back from the dead. Fudge denied it, but the wizard, Voldemort, made his presence known to a bunch of kids a few days ago."
The Minister stood up and poured each of them a drink. Normally, he'd have someone else do it for him, but this wasn't normal. Becoming Prime Minister was supposed to be his crowning achievement, his chance to change things for the better. It was bad enough that he'd had to follow Margaret Thatcher, but then on day one he was introduced to the big secret of government. It wasn't that they were secretly building an empire, or that a man in a blue police box had been helping them fight off aliens, but that people with unimaginable power existed in the world. People that looked just like everyone else, roaming free. It was terrifying.
He returned to his seat and handed Eric a drink.
"Why can't they have normal names?" the Minister asked. "What sort of a name is 'Voldemort'? And didn't you say they had a fixer in place for this?"
Eric opened the briefcase and handed him a file. In it was a picture of a girl with red hair. Another picture had her in a coffin.
"Our contacts informed us that the little girl there would've crumpled him up and tossed him aside," Eric said.
The Minister scowled, unable to believe his eyes.
"You're not serious, are you? She's got to be eight years old!"
Eric took a drink.
"That's exactly what I said. But Albus Dumbledore, the man that we've been working with for years now, said she's unlike anything he's ever seen."
"Right, Dumbledore. The… odd one."
Eric laughed, putting the Minister at ease. He appreciated their attempts to soften the blow, as it were, and their advice was irreplaceable. Playing the fool around Fudge had probably kept the Minister of Magic from doing something violent. There was no way to be sure what they'd be like if they thought of parliament as disposable. Fudge thought he was keeping communication open by popping up "unannounced" and "informing the Minister of what they were doing". As if parliament was incompetent enough to let them control the information flow like that.
"They're all odd, sir. But Dumbledore's actually cooperative. Amelia Bones, their enforcement head, vouched for him with that girl, and we trust her too. She narrowly escaped her own unfortunate incident earlier this week. Says Voldemort's got this new fixer on his side. Calls herself 'Aurora Lux'. She attacked Bones at her home, but as far as she could tell, Lux got bored and left."
"They're never short of psychopaths, are they?"
The Minister laughed, but Eric didn't join in.
"With all due respect, sir, neither are we." He pulled out another set of files and handed them to the Minister. "But in a straight contest, I think they win. Voldemort calls his groups the 'Death Eaters', and it's full of the worst they've got to offer."
"It sounds like one of those modern rock bands."
This time, Eric joined in with his joke.
"That's what the boss said, although it sounded more like one of her husband's jokes."
The smile vanished from Eric's face, signifying the end of the merrymaking.
"More to the point, sir, they're growing in strength. They're even leaking into parliament."
The Minister froze. His heart stopped. His mind went blank. He wished to God that he'd heard that wrong.
"They've got this spell they call 'the Imperius Curse'," Eric explained. "We've mentioned it before. It lets one of them take over another person completely. I can name at least one person in this building under its influence right now."
The Minister went pale. If one of his own people had been taking over by one of them, it would constitute a break in the treaty they'd signed. Although, he'd always had his suspicions that none of those people had ever read the treaty.
"We will handle it, sir," Eric said calmly. "We've all had training against it. You've had it too, so you know it's not perfect, and we'll need to be vigilant." Eric handed him another piece of paper. "That one's yours to keep. Basic guidelines you'll need to follow to keep on your toes. Question everything and everyone, even us."
The Minister read over the guidelines. It wasn't anything too complicated. He could easily spin questions into light conversation. "How's the wife?", "Did you enjoy the vase we sent you?", "How's your brother doing?" were all good questions to confirm someone's identity. Besides, he prided himself on knowing every foreign contact's drink preference. Know a man's drinking habits, know the man.
"I think I can handle this." He put the paper down and leafed through the other files. "What about Fudge?"
Eric handed him another file. The Minister sometimes suspected there was no bottom to that briefcase, just more files.
"He sent a woman called 'Dolores Umbridge' to Hogwarts school, where Dumbledore teaches. It was a political power play to silence Dumbledore, who was trying to warn people that Voldemort had really returned, that they weren't just rumors. The move backfired on him, guaranteeing his own demise."
The Minister paused while reading the file on the frightful looking woman.
"Can they… this sounds so mad… can they bring people back to life?"
For possibly the first time, Eric looked at a loss for words. But that didn't stop him from finding some.
"We honestly don't know how he did it. Back in '81, we confirmed that he was dead, not just in hiding. According to our contacts, there's some complicated magic involved in it, not something they teach in schools. Everyone was vague on this, so we're conducting our own research. So far, we've got nothing, but we've been assured by reliable sources that it's not something we need to be concerned about. It's outlawed on their end… I know, it doesn't say much, but still, at least they're not all incompetent… and it's not well-known either. And they've got to prepare it while they're still alive, and it's supposed to be a ghastly process."
The Minister took a moment to absorb that. He already knew that wizards lived longer than humans, and that frightened him a little, but now they could come back from the dead? It was… he didn't know what it was. Terrifying, surely. He took another drink.
"This woman, Umbridge," the Minister said. "What'd she do?"
"According to the boss, 'turned a school for teenagers into bloody 1984'."
The Minister nearly shuddered. He knew wizards could read minds, which had been part of his "orientation" upon taking office. Learning to recognize and block it had been mandatory. But it also meant that the Ministry of Magic could produce actual thought police.
"She had them under surveillance every second of the day. The moment word reached us about it, the boss was up in arms."
The Minister's eyes grew wide. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for this Umbridge woman.
"It's every bit as terrifying as you're imagining," Eric said. "Both what Umbridge had done to that school, and what the boss did to her. We couldn't just remove her from play, as that would violate the treaty, but they — surprisingly, I might add — have processes in place for such things. The boss saw to it that she was torn apart, although she still managed to remain in the Ministry… for now."
The Minister took a moment to review what information he had, going back through the files Eric had given him. Eric sat quietly, patiently waiting for the Minister to finish.
"Who's replacing Fudge?"
"A man called 'Rufus Scrimgeour'," Eric said, handing him yet another file. "Seems fairly benign so far. We'll let you know when he plans to pop by for a cup of tea."
The Minister reviewed the rest of the files, then handed them all back to Eric.
"What's your plan going forward?" he asked.
"Work round the clock, just like back in '81," Eric replied with a hint of agitation. "Ensure that the threat is marginalized as much as possible. We've got people working to track their movements and coordinate with the Ministry of Magic. They're exactly as cooperative as you might think."
The Minister took another drink. He knew that meant they weren't helping at all.
"Keep it up, then," he said.
Hermione's parents rushed her the moment she stepped off the train. Her mum threw her arms around her, holding her tighter than she ever had.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay. We've got you."
Hermione remained motionless, lost in her own thoughts. She hardly noticed her parents.
"I'm fine."
Her voice sounded dreamy, far off, almost like Luna's usually did. She wondered if Luna hid away in her own mind sometimes, or just didn't acknowledge reality. She missed Luna and the optimism she brought with her.
"After what that woman did to you," her father spat, "I can't believe they employ people like that at their Ministry."
"It's the Ministry of Magic, so of course, they do," Hermione replied. "Really, that brand didn't last more than a few hours. I faked it after that. The stuff on my forehead amounted to permanent marker."
Hermione looked through the crowd, scanning for anyone out of the ordinary. Anyone with blonde hair, anyone staring at her too long. Either of them could've been watching, Rose or Sylvia. Sylvia couldn't leave Hogwarts, at least that's what Rose had said, but she also had ways of surveying them, as she'd done a few years ago. Sylvia unable to leave Hogwarts meant her parents were safe from her.
Unlike Rose, who could go anywhere she wanted. Hermione felt her body tighten at the knowledge that she could die at any second. Rose could be anywhere, anyone. There was no way to know what she was doing.
The knowledge that Rose wouldn't hurt her did little to ease her nerves. She didn't know Rose's plan, but she was sure Sylvia was involved somehow.
"Honey, are you listening?" her father asked.
"No."
"Let's get you home," he said. "You'll be alright."
Hermione took another look at her friends all leaving the train and hoped it wouldn't be the last time she saw them.
"No. I don't think we will."
Her parents exchanged looks. They thought she was still traumatized by Umbridge. Umbridge was an insignificant speck compared to Rose. So was Voldemort, for that matter. Umbridge was finished, and Voldemort wasn't after her. But there was no telling what Rose would do, but she didn't follow the same rules as the others. She could track Hermione… no, she couldn't. Not so long as Hermione wore the ring. Unless Rose could track… literally anything she carried.
Hermione realized that was the reason Rose hated people touching her things. The moment they did, they'd be able to use discern location to track them. Anything Rose had ever given her, she'd be able to track. Failing that, she could simply track Hermione through the condition conch.
"You won't go back there," her father said, although for once, it was out of fear rather than anger. "You'll stay home with us."
"I turn 17 in September," Hermione said. "Then you haven't got a choice. I'm going back."
She started off towards the exit without waiting for her parents.
"You don't have to go back," her mum said after they'd gotten in the car.
"Yes, I have. Professor Dumbledore and I are the only two that know what we're really up against. No one else knows."
"Then let Professor Dumbledore handle it."
"He can't. I know a lot more about her than he does."
"More about who?" her dad asked.
"Rose. She's still alive, but she's not on our side anymore. Or… I don't know, maybe she is."
They stopped at a traffic light, and her parents took the chance to exchange glances.
"Honey… Rose is dead. Remember?"
Hermione continued to stare out the window, looking for signs of something following them in the air. Unless Rose was using undermaster, in which case, she could've been following them underground. "Swim through the earth as if it were the air" was one of the descriptions of a spell undermaster granted.
"I thought so… for a moment, I thought she actually might be dead. But then a Death Eater hit me with a killing curse, and I didn't die. I saw the flash… my body sort of tingled, but then I wasn't dead. If it didn't kill me, then it didn't kill Rose. Then I saw her… saw the pendant only Professor Dumbledore and I can see. She used a name from her world, one that only a few of us recognize. Used the same face… she wanted me to know. She went straight after me."
She heard her mother hyperventilating in the front seat, likely from "hit me with a killing curse". Hermione wanted to feel bad, but she couldn't feel anything.
"You… you would've died," her mum managed.
"Yes, I would have," Hermione replied as if it were the most simple thing in the world. To her, it felt like such a small detail.
"And you want to go back?" her dad asked. "Again? After all that, you—"
"I'm the only one who's got a chance of replicating dimension lock. If I don't go back, the school's vulnerable to Rose. If she's really on Voldemort's side, it's the only chance we've got of securing the school. She could teleport every Death Eater available inside Hogwarts, or just Voldemort himself. It'd be a massacre."
Hermione felt a pain in her chest. That sickening, nauseous feeling of doubt. There was no way to secure anywhere else. Rose could kill her parents whenever she wanted. Or Sally-Anne's parents, or Sirius, or anyone else. It all banked on her being more interested in Hogwarts than anywhere else.
She'd wanted Hermione to know. What Hermione couldn't figure out was why. Was Rose gloating, or crying for help?
"We're not sending you back to that!" her dad shouted.
"I'm sorry, but it's not your decision anymore," Hermione replied. "It's mine. You keep me out of this, Hogwarts won't stand a chance. With me there, at least they'll have a small one."
On top of that, if she stayed home, she'd never know why. She'd never know what Rose was doing, or why she'd lied, or if she'd really gone bad.
"Hermione, please," her mum said. "We—"
"We'll talk about this more when we get home," her dad said, cutting off any further conversation.
Hermione sat in her room, staring out the window. It hadn't been long ago that she'd wished never to see that room again. The memory of Rose arriving and talking to her consumed her. It was going to be them, together forever. Just the two of them against the world.
A knock on her door caught her attention. She turned and saw her parents sitting at the threshold.
"I promise not to throw you into the wall this time," she said.
"Then we promise not to yell," her dad said.
Her mum gave her dad a look of surprise. Apparently, that had been part of the plan.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," Hermione said.
"Back at you," her dad said. "Or did you not give Dumbledore a promise that you'd help him?"
Hermione thought back to her last talk with Professor Dumbledore. Had she made a promise? No, she hadn't. A promise would've meant she'd committed to something, and she wasn't going to commit to the idea that Rose was against them. Something else was going on, she was sure of it.
"I didn't. Rose… I don't know what she's doing. I hate not knowing."
She shifted around in her bed. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out what Rose's plan was. She didn't have all the information she needed, but the only person that would've had it was Rose. Or Sylvia, but Hermione was terrified of that path. If she tried communicating with Rose's "friend", said friend would almost certainly kill her to keep her quiet.
"Hermione," her father said, "you understand why we're worried, don't you?"
Hermione nodded. She knew that they were trying to protect her.
"You want to keep me safe."
Just like Rose.
"These people could kill you. They already tried. And we've been over this before. There are people trained in this sort of thing. People that have experience handling this."
"But no one else has got the experience with Rose that I've got," Hermione said. "If she really has turned on us, they need me."
She still didn't want to think that Rose had turned on them. It was a possibility, but there was more to it than that.
"Not on the front lines," her father said. "Promise me you'll stay away from the fighting. If anything happens, keep yourself safe."
"Rose wouldn't hurt me. Whatever's going on, she'd never hurt me."
"You're not listening. You said no one knows Rose better than you, and I believe you. We're giving you permission to help them understand her, or figure out her magic, or whatever it is you're thinking." He glanced at her mum before continuing. "That's fine with us. But once the fighting starts, we want you out of there. Get to safety, no matter what."
"I can't just leave my friends to—"
"Hermione," her mum said. "You're still not listening. We know it's not safe at Hogwarts. We can all agree on that."
Her parents waited for her to speak up, but Hermione chose against it. She didn't need to elaborate on how bad things were at Hogwarts; they were all aware of it already.
"If there's a problem, get yourself to safety," her dad said. "It's harsh, I know, and in a perfect world, we wouldn't have to worry about any of this. But this isn't a perfect world. Far from it. We're letting you go to Hogwarts, but you've got to promise us you'll do whatever you need to in order to stay safe. You're right; you're 16, almost 17, and while I don't think that entitles you to make your own decisions on everything, we both think you're mature enough to understand the situation."
Hermione nodded. She didn't know if she agreed with their demands, but she'd listen to them.
"I'll do my best, but I don't know if I'll have a choice."
"Don't go looking for trouble," her mum said.
"I won't."
She meant it. She had not intention of looking for trouble.
Only answers.
Harry's trip to the Dursleys went about as well as he'd expected it to go.
"Where's your boyfriend?" Dudley jeered when he saw Alavel wasn't waiting for them.
Harry slung his pack over his shoulder and stepped out of the car.
"He died."
His aunt gasped as if no one had ever died before.
"I won't have any talk like that in my house!" Vernon shouted. "Now get inside before someone sees you!"
Harry's eyes darted to his uncle. He could've explained exactly how invisible Harry could make himself, even without magic. His own footsteps echoed around him as if he were still in the castle. He knew exactly how much sound he was making at all times, and every vantage point someone could get on him.
Neither Rose, Hermione, nor Neville left any room for error.
It'd always been to Harry's benefit to stay quiet and hidden. It served him well, as that was all he wanted. When he walked inside, trailing behind everyone else, he looked longingly up the stairs to the peace of his room, but it wasn't to be.
"Boy!" his uncle shouted. "Get in here!"
"Here", as Harry found out, was the kitchen. It was time for dinner, and with Harry home, that meant he had to cook. Everything was right where it'd always been, making it easy to prepare something. Harry felt as though someone else were preparing the food. He went through the motions, letting his mind wander, wondering how easy it would be to poison the food.
If you want poison, I've always got wicker eye plants. Their nectar tastes like your morning tea and cause any human that ingests it a fatal heart attack.
In his mind, he imagined himself smiling, but remained careful not to show it on his face. With Alavel gone, he was sure to get the brunt of everyone's anger.
His thoughts wandered back to Alavel. If he'd known Harry had even thought of poisoning the Dursleys, he would've shaken his head. The shame would've been overwhelming. How had he always done that? Alavel had always had that air about him that made Harry want to impress him. His disappointment was unbearable.
Killing someone may seem simple, Lord Skyeyes, but you'd be surprised how much it hurts you.
Harry thought back to Ginny, and wondered how well she was coping with it. He hated thinking about it, but it must've been eating away at her. Had he only gotten there sooner, she might not have had the chance.
As far as Harry knew, no one had told Ins about it. No one had told him that Ginny was being arrested for murder, so he assumed no one else knew about it. If they found out, there was a good chance the Ministry would throw her in Azkaban out of spite. The thought of his friend in Azkaban made him ill.
Ginny wouldn't last a week in there, judging by how bad the Dementors had been in his third year, and that had just been when they were outside. Having to live with them must've been a nightmare. Sirius never talked about it. The last time Harry had asked, Sirius had loudly asked him about school. Alavel had later suggested that he not bring it up around Sirius anymore, so Harry had kept quiet about it.
Ginny didn't belong in Azkaban. She was misguided in killing Macnair, but she wasn't evil.
He got a feeling that someone was watching him. His focus flickered to his blindsight, but no one else was in the room with him.
Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him when he realized he was expecting Alavel to be eyeing him. As if something he'd thought could've been used to prove a point. Alavel was always doing that. He'd take Harry's words and turn them into a lesson. They were never forced on him, only suggested to him. What was it this time?
His answer came in the form of someone shouting "Boy!".
He finished up preparing the food and set the table for them. He called to them, got the usual backtalk, and sat down to wait for them.
A few minutes later, he and his family were sitting around the table, listening to Uncle Vernon talking about work.
"Thank you," Harry said when his uncle had stopped talking.
"Quiet!" Vernon snapped.
No one addressed Harry the rest of dinner. He was thankful; they clearly hated him, and had underfed him for years before Rose sent Alavel with him. No one had complained that he'd given himself a normal sized portion of food. He figured they'd been so used to him being treated well that they didn't care enough to question it.
He cleared up after dinner while the Dursleys stayed and talked. As he was clearing up Aunt Petunia's plate, he decided to speak up again.
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
"Shut your mouth, boy!" Vernon shouted.
"What are you sorry about?" Dudley snapped.
Harry took the chance to elaborate.
"I'm sorry that they dumped me with all of you and made your lives difficult."
"Those people have got no respect for a man's rights!" Vernon exclaimed. "Dumping some infant here, insisting that we've got to take care of it, invading my property whenever they feel like it!"
While Vernon spoke, Harry slipped into the kitchen, deposited the dishes in the sink, and slipped back before anyone noticed he'd gone.
"They aren't people," Petunia added.
"I hate this too," Harry said. "But I can make it easier on you."
"Really?" Vernon scoffed.
Harry held up his hands to demonstrate the lack of dishes.
"I'll tend the house, keep everything clean and spotless, and stay out of sight. I'm good at being invisible. I don't even need food. Hedwig's with Sirius, so even she doesn't need tending. No one, not even you, will know I'm here."
He saw Dudley ready to argue the point, but Petunia glared at him to keep him quiet.
"That's what you're supposed to be doing," Vernon snapped. "This isn't your house, it's my house!"
"I'd leave if I could, but I can't. Until then, I can make this as painless as possible. Then we'll all have to suffer through this next year, but once I turn 17, I'm gone. You'll never see me again."
Harry slipped out of the room again as Vernon roared at him to get back to work. He wasn't sure he'd made things any better by trying to work things out with them, but it was a start. Alavel would've been proud of him for trying at least. In the end, that was all Harry really cared about.
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