章節 349: HPF211-220
Chapter 211
Her popping out of the lake did not douse
those thoughts, as he wasn't paying
attention to what was going on in the lake.
He wasn't even at the lake. He had more
important things to do than watch
stupid-Potter grab all the glory again. Instead,
he was searching the castle trying to find her.
He'd first looked in the Gryffindor dorms but
couldn't find anyone to go up to the fourth
year girls' dorm to get her. He then,
reluctantly, tried the library. Not finding her
there, he thought she might be packing to
move back to Gryffindor, so went to their
apartment; after finding out from a
Ravenclaw where it was.
Then the stupid statue wouldn't let him in, or
announce his presence. He tried to curse it
with every curse and hex he could think of,
which wasn't many. However, no
matter how hard he tried to force magic
through his wand, every single one failed.
Having the statue chuckle at him as he tried
just made him angrier. Eventually, while
staring at his wand tip, he tried with all his
might to cast a Lumos. It worked; and
rendered him nearly completely blind. The
statue then outright laughed at him with
deep belly laughs while he tried to rub vision
back into his eyes and verbally cursing it
before he, finally, stormed off.
When he tried to answer the riddle by the
Eagle at the entrance to the Ravenclaw
common room, and failed to answer it, he
again was unable to hex or curse it. Magically
near complete exhaustion he finally stomped
away.
He decided he really needed to go back to
bed. However, lunch would soon be served
and he couldn't miss that. He'd starve if he
missed lunch, as weak as he was. And he still
needed to find Hermione before
someone else was able to provide her with
comfort. And, once more, steal her from him.
Lunch saw him sitting at the Gryffindor table
waiting for the food to appear, almost asleep,
but knowing he needed to eat a big meal to
recharge his energy levels. However, just
before the food turned up on the tables, he
was stunned to see Hermione, again, on
stupid-Potter's arm walking into the Hall. Life
was just so unfair. Thankfully, he wasn't put
off his meal for it.
Over at Slytherin, Malfoy wasn't surprised to
see Potter enter with one of his bondmates
missing at breakfast. He, of course,
knew exactly what the second task required,
and of the hostages. He just couldn't figure
out why it was Granger that was missing, and
not Greengrass. After all, Greengrass was the
pureblood, while Granger was only a mud...
muggleborn.
And that was yet another thing he couldn't
stand. The ban on the word mudblood was,
to him, ludicrous. After all, that's what they
were. Their blood was dirty.
Now, there was an idea. If he couldn't use
the word 'mudblood' any more, he'd begin to
use 'dirtyblood'. After all, it wasn't a banned
word. And, if he could do that with
'mudblood', then he could do that with
'scarhead'.
Thinking hard about a replacement slur he
finally decided upon 'scarface'. Yes, that'll do
nicely, he thought. The
mud... dirtyblood-loving fool of a
Headmaster was no match for the mind of a
Malfoy.
It was about fifteen minutes later when he
and the rest of the school received a really
big opportunity to laugh. Weasley had
managed to fall face first, unconscious, into
the middle of his half-empty plate. When
McGonagall hurried down and tried to revive
him, nothing worked.
Madam Pomfrey had to levitate him up and
hurry him from the Hall to the infirmary.
Whatever was wrong with the red-headed
blood-traitor - yet another word he needed
to find a replacement for - a
standard Renervate charm wasn't strong
enough. He suspected someone slipped him
a Draught of the Living Death just so they
wouldn't have to watch him eat. It's what
he'd have done.
A quick lunch and the three headed back to
their apartment to await their guests. And
the change in layout of their living room was
quite significant.
The couches had all been pulled away from
the fireplace, the armchair had been
replaced with a couch, and there was now a
couch facing the coffee table with its back to
the fireplace. It formed a nice square around
the coffee table as centre. Then, on the
coffee table stood a nice flower arrangement;
which was then surrounded by little canapés,
pieces of fruit and cake.
Also on the coffee table was a pair of jugs of
butterbeer surrounded by a half dozen
glasses, each.
Midnight appeared miffed sitting on the floor
trying to get to the good stuff on the coffee
table. However, each time she reached
forward with a paw, it appeared to bounce
off a force field. Crookshanks watched on
from one of the couches, amused.
"Did you see Ron get levitated out of the
Great Hall?" asked Hermione, as she
collapsed onto one of the couches, reached
down and picked the half-kneazel up, placing
him on her lap.
"I think everyone saw the prat levitated out
of the Hall, Hermione," said Harry.
"What do you think was wrong with him?"
she asked.
"Magical exhaustion," replied Daphne.
"That's why the Enervate charm wouldn't
work on him. He's too drained of magic for it
to work."
"Magical exhau... Oh!" she said. "From when
he tried to curse Professor Whittaker. Of
course."
"I'm surprised, if he was that exhausted, that
he managed to hold out until in the middle of
lunch," said Daphne.
"I'm not," disagreed Harry. "When it comes
to putting food in his belly, I don't think even
having a dragon in his way would stop him
getting it. He finally collapsed when he
had some food in his belly and the need to
eat wasn't as great anymore."
"Harry, unless you want our visiting guests
knowing we all sleep together, go shrink your
bed," instructed Daphne.
Harry had just risen to his feet and was about
to go do just that when he noticed the faces
of his two wives. They appeared quite sad.
Thinking a bit, he said, "You know what. Do
you really care if they do? I mean, they know
we're bondmates; where's the harm?"
That earned him two smiles right back.
"It stays as it is," he firmly said. "And, if they
ask, we won't hide it from them."
When the guests arrived it was in a rush.
Diggory turned up escorting Chang, Delacour
turned up with her sister, and Krum came
escorting Jones; or, more likely, the other
way around as Krum didn't know where their
apartment was located.
"I'm glad you found the place," said Harry to
Krum.
"Cedric told me, and I told Victor," smiled
Jones.
Chapter 212
"Yes," but it's still something I should have
ensured you all knew when we invited you,"
said Harry.
"No harm dun," said Krum.
The afternoon was spent by the nine talking
about their lives before the Tournament, and
about the Tournament.
"When did you figure out the egg, Cedric?"
asked Harry.
"Ummm... it took me about... actually it was
just before Christmas," the Hufflepuff
replied.
"I zink... no, it was... during Chreestmas,"
replied Fleur. It was ze only time I 'ad time
to... devote to eet."
"About Christmas," replied Krum. "It took me
quite a while haffter zat to work out a plan."
"And, you? 'Arry?" asked Fleur.
"Before Christmas," he replied.
Fleur told them about life as the daughter of
a person high up in the French Ministry,
although her father, Antoine, wasn't always
that high.
Diggory described what it was like growing
up as just an ordinary kid in Ottery St
Catchpole. He had both the Weasleys and
Lovegoods as nearby neighbours; but, after
meeting the Weasley kids, didn't really want
much to do with them.
"Too noisy!" he said.
And the Lovegoods mainly stuck to
themselves. However, he did see Luna,
occasionally, down in the village. He also
proved to be an aficionado of muggle movies,
and would go see a movie, when he could, in
the local 'movie house'.
That then led to a discussion on what a
'movie' was as the others had little idea. And
Harry, Hermione and Diggory gave some fine
examples.
Krum then spoke about his home in south
eastern Romania near the city of Constanta
on the coast of the Black Sea.
"I thought you were Bulgarian," said Diggory.
"No, play for National team there," said the
young man. "Romanian team even worse
than Bulgarian team. Bulgarian team pay
better, too."
Then it was Harry's turn. He only gave a quick
overview of his supposed home-life to the
previous summer; but, assured them he no
longer had to return there. He spoke about
the search for what was behind the door on
the third floor corridor, getting past the traps
and Quirrell.
Then he covered the whole heir of Slytherin
and students getting petrified thing. And an
overview of the battle with the basilisk in the
Chamber of Secrets.
He only lightly brushed on the whole Sirius
escaping from Azkaban and believing to be
coming after Harry to kill him part, and only
to find it was to come and protect him and
capture Pettigrew. They also explained about
how they found out Ron Weasley's pet rat
was actually Pettigrew in his animagus form.
And discovering Sirius was innocent.
Finally, he gave the story they had for 'public'
consumption about forming their bond, the
two youngest Weasleys trying to potion them
with love and loyalty potions, their being
re-sorted and their apartment for the
purposes of strengthening the bond.
That led to a quick tour of the apartment.
When everyone recharged their glasses
Daphne said, "I hope you realise knowing
that we do sleep together is something we
don't want bandied about the castle." She
specifically looked at Cho and Megan and
said, "Harry has enough problems with being
the so-called Boy-Who-Lived. He doesn't
need everyone gossiping about his... sleeping
arrangements. And, neither do Hermione or
I."
Jones looked a little sad not being able to
talk about it, but they could see she wouldn't.
Chang, on the other hand, was likely to spill
everything first chance she got.
However, Diggory saw from her expression
that she wasn't being entirely honest when
she said she wouldn't. So, he said to her,
"They're right, Cho. Don't go spreading it
around."
Then the girl looked like she'd probably keep
it to herself. Probably. However, if anything
happened to derail her relationship with
Diggory, the relationship between Harry and
his two ladies would very soon after that
become public.
As for the tasks, the other champions asked
him how he came upon the ideas he had. So,
he told them how he felt a lot of witches and
wizards were idiots because they couldn't get
past the idea of attacking a target directly.
"I don't understand it," he said. "Everyone
knows you can't attack a dragon through its
magically-protected hide, so why try? No.
That's why I decided that the fast way to take
it down was through cutting off its air supply.
"My problem was it was a risk that I was
going to kill the dragon. I know Humans can
go up to three minutes without air. However,
I had no idea about dragons. It turns out, it
was a great deal less than three minutes."
"People have been worried about coming
across a dragon in the wild for years," said
Chang. "Now you've shown them all how
easy it is to take one down."
With a shrug he smiled and said, "Happy to
be of service. However, even happier to be
able to claim the carcass as the slayer of the
beast, just as I did with the carcass of the
basilisk. Both added quite a substantial
amount of galleons in the Potter vaults."
"I notice you use gillyweed for second task,"
said Krum. "But, how you go so fast in
water?"
"I pointed my wand backwards and
maintained an Aguamenti charm," explained
Harry. "The strong water stream flowing out
of my wand was used as a water jet to push
me along."
"Clever," said Delacour. "We could have done
the same things with our bubblehead
charms."
"No, not really," disagreed Diggory. "We
were already using a lot of magical power
maintaining the Bubblehead charms."
Turning to Harry he asked, "Was that the
reason you opted for the gillyweed? So you
wouldn't have to maintain a Bubblehead
charm?"
"Only a small part," replied Harry. "I just
knew the body alterations from gillyweed
would make it easier for me to swim.
Webbed feet and hands, you see.
"The downside is I had to really work hard at
silent, incantless, casting for the weeks
leading up to the task."
"Zat is no easy feat," said Delacour. "Silent
casting is very difficult, and not usually
taught until your sixth year."
"I've found, ending up in the Tournament has
required a drastic need to self-teach
advanced magic," Harry grinned back.
Chapter 213
"Oh, there is that!" laughed Diggory.
"Seventh year is hard. But, I think I've
learned far more trying to come up with
ways to prepare for the Tournament."
"Oui," agreed Delacour. "It iz for zat reason
we are... excuzed classes and eexams."
As they were talking, Harry could not help
but notice young Gabrielle kept trying to
watch him both carefully, and surreptitiously.
Finally, he looked right at her and said,
"Don't be afraid to talk to me, Gabby. I won't
bite."
She looked back at him in awe and softly
asked, "How did you know ma famille call me
Gabby?"
'Oh, crap,' thought Harry. "Someone must
have mentioned it to me," he said, before
quickly changing the topic. "Are you enjoying
your time in Scotland?"
"No, it eez too cold 'ere," she softly replied.
"Where we go to school... Beauxbatons... it is
warmer."
"I dare say it is," agreed Harry. "It's in the
south of France, is it not?"
"Oui... err... yes," she said. "In zee... err...
foot'ills of zee Alps. Near zee city of
Avignon."
"We'll have to visit, one day," he smiled.
Before much longer, the others all decided
they needed to think about leaving.
"Homework waits for no wizard or witch,"
said Diggory. "I know we're excused from
them. But, mother insists I maintain my
grades for a decent position within the
Ministry."
After seeing their guests off, Hermione spun
to Harry and said, "You make sure none of
them reaches that Cup first, Harry."
"That's been the plan from the get-go, love,"
he replied.
"I've been thinking about the graveyard," she
suddenly said. "I have an idea."
That perked both her bondmates up. "Oh?"
asked Daphne.
With a nod she said, "I've been thinking
about the words of the ritual, and the
ingredients."
"We can't do too much, love," cautioned
Harry. "John told me I have to defeat him
after he's been resurrected. I can't just kill
him at the graveyard."
"No," she said. "He... they... needs
Dumbledore to die from the ring horcrux.
Dumbledore won't go after it unless
Voldemort is coming back, or is already
resurrected. We get Dumbledore to go after
it before the third task.
"Then we can manipulate things with the
ingredients to weaken Riddle enough that
you should be able to easily defeat him."
"Alright," he said, thinking about what she
was saying. "What do you want to cause to
happen?"
With all three, again, sitting down at the
rearranged couches, Hermione explained her
idea. With that basic idea, they started
fine-tuning it.
Back at the Ministry, Madam Bones
practically flopped into her office chair, she
was that tired.
The Minister and his pet toad - and she
snorted at that description - had left that
morning for a Heads of Government
conference in Vaduz, Liechtenstein. He was
planning on being away for a week. But, it
would definitely be no less than three days.
The Minister had wanted to be at the second
task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament being held
at Hogwarts. However, his scheduling didn't
allow it. And, didn't he throw a hissy fit when
he learned that? Crouch and Bagman were
almost sacked on the spot when he
discovered the scheduling conflict. But, by
then, the contracts had already been signed,
and the event could not be moved.
Almost as soon as she knew the Minister was
gone, and it was too late for him to return
before the conference started, Madam Bones
made a move on the Floo Network Office;
and, more specifically, the Floo Network
Authority and it's Floo Network Regulators.
She entered the office and stated to its Head,
Violetta Edgecombe, that a crime had been
committed and it was believed Regulators
had been responsible.
"What?" the witch decried. "My office?"
"Your office, Madam," Madam Bones shot
back. "As per their employment agreements,
we'll be questioning each of them to
determine what they know, if anything."
"I want to talk to the Minister!" huffed
Edgecombe.
"He's currently out of the country and cannot
be contacted," said Madam Bones. "Shall we
start with you, first?"
With not a little fear, Edgecombe sighed and
nodded.
"Thank you," said Madam Bones. One of the
aurors she brought with her, Master Auror
Gawain Robards, hit her in the back with a
cheering charm as soon as she sat down.
Then he easily convinced her to hold her
head back before dropping three drops of
Veritaserum on her tongue.
They'd worked out using a Cheering charm
first made their interviewee a lot more
pliable and far less likely to anger over the
use of the truth serum.
As soon as the serum took effect, Madam
Bones began her questions.
"Are you now, or have you ever been, a
Death Eater? Did you then, or do you now,
support the policies of the wizard known as
Lord Voldemort? Do you believe that
muggleborns should not be allowed to live in
our world? Do you carry out spying for
anyone? Do you accept bribes? "
With five quite succinct No's for each
question, Madam Bones directed Robards to
administer the antidote. As soon as the
woman came around, she was hit with the
Obliviation Charm.
"You were asked questions relating to a
highly sensitive and confidential target
concerning the theft of items from within
using the Floo network," instructed Madam
Bones. "You have been told that you are not
permitted to discuss this with anyone,
including that there is even an ongoing
investigation."
As soon as the woman's mind cleared,
Madam Bones thanked her for her time and
called the next person in.
By the time they'd gone through all the
Regulators, and moved on to the rest of the
staff in the Office, they'd found another
marked Death Eater and two Regulators who
took bribes in the previous war and since to
temporarily shut a Floo connection off the
network. They would then fudge the records,
and look the other way.
Their identities were noted and they were
then Obliviated with the same information
implanted as Madam Edgecombe.
"Damn it," she muttered when they finished
with all the staff of that Office. "Young Mister
Potter was on the galleon."
Chapter 214
Looking to her two senior aurors, she said,
"Right. We're going through the rest of this
Department before we move on the rest."
"Same claim of a burglary ring?" asked
Scrimgeour.
"Yeah; it's a good cover story," she replied.
"But brooms for Broom Regulatory Control,
and portkeys for the Portkey Office. Let's get
it done."
They found a possible couple of future Death
Eaters in Broom Regulatory Control who
were such because they were unhappy with
their lot in life. But found another two Death
Eaters in the Portkey Office and just about all
of them willing to, and having already taken,
bribes.
Within the Portkey Office it was harder to
find an honest witch or wizard than the other
way around.
There were no problems in the Apparition
Test Centre offices. With the exception of a
single blood bigot - who had nothing against
muggleborns, really - those folks, apparently,
were far too staid.
"Where to next, Boss?" asked Scrimgeour.
"Level Five, Department of International
Magical Cooperation," she replied after a
moment. "We might as well work our way
up."
"What about Magical Games and Sports on
Level Seven?" he asked.
"Most of them are at the second task, this
morning," she replied with a little shake of
her head. "We'll skip them, for now, and get
them next time."
"Shall I get us a couple more aurors who're
on the 'Five No's' list, Boss?" asked Robards.
As they were walking, Madam Bones thought
about it for a moment and replied, "Do it.
But, go down and get them, directly. I don't
want loose communications running around
here that anyone clever enough to do so can
latch onto. And make sure they're at least
fully qualified Aurors. We'll meet you on
Level Five."
"Right you are, Boss," replied Robards before
he headed for the lifts.
Sirius had been having a ball, but he was now
grumbling as if his favourite toy had vanished.
He'd spent the better half of the past week
plus, near terrorising the Minister's office
and staff with demands to know when his
godson would be receiving his Order of
Merlin, First Class.
He thought to himself, 'If they thought
Augusta Longbottom on a rampage was scary;
they ain't seen Sirius Black!'
However, Sirius didn't just walk in, make
demands and yell at flunkies. He politely
asked to see the Minister, and got in to see
the man after only having to wait a day.
"Mister Black," said the Minister, walking
around his desk to shake Sirius's hand.
"Minister," said Sirius.
The Minister then gestured expansively
towards a chair before his desk. "Please," he
smarmed. "Take a seat."
"Thank you, Minister."
As the Minister retook his seat behind his
desk, he asked, "Now, what can I do for you,
Mister Black?"
'Straight to it before we're interrupted,'
though Sirius. "Well, Minister; I find myself
quite confused about something, and hope
you might be able to clear the air, for me."
"Well," buffed Fudge. "I don't know if I can;
however, I can certainly try."
"Thank you," said Sirius. "It's like this. You
see, one of my godson's bondmates asked
Madam Longbottom to look into why my
godson has not received his Order of Merlin,
First Class yet."
That made the Minister suddenly blanch.
Clearly, the man had forgotten Sirius was
Harry's godfather.
"Of course, the diligent witch she is, Madam
Longbottom came to your offices to try and
find out what the hold up was, and see if she
could... assist... in speeding things up a bit.
"Now, she's only about a week into that...
assistance... when, all of a sudden, the
Minister organises a secret evening auror
raid on a specific healer at Saint Mungo's.
And, wouldn't you know it? It also happens
to be the same healer treating Madam
Longbottom's son and daughter-in-law. And,
wouldn't you also know it? The healer's been
drugging the Longbottoms keeping them in
their mentally ill state."
"Umm..." stammered the Minister.
"Of course, the Longbottom heroes are
woken up, and Madam Longbottom... Regent
Longbottom... immediately drops everything
and hurries to their bedsides. Including,
dropping her investigation into why my
godson has not received his Order of Merlin,
First Class, yet.
"What an astounding coincidence; eh,
Cornelius? One of the very few things that
could cause Madam Longbottom to break off
her investigation and... encouragement to
act... of your office, and it happens. And, not
only that, but it happens right in the middle
of Madam Longbottom's investigation. And,
it's you and your simpering Senior
Undersecretary, who are right in the
forefront of it.
"Wow, Cornelius. As I said, what an
astounding coincidence," Sirius falsely
gushed before his expression morphed into a
flat stare. "The trouble is, I don't believe in
coincidences."
"Ahh..."
"Here's the way I and my friends see it,
Cornelius," said Sirius. "You see, everyone
knows what a publicity whore you are. You
see a camera aimed in your general direction
and you have to posture. If you see a
reporter wanting to take notes you have to
gush words of self-importance. It's what you
are.
"So, how is it that... when the award of an
Order of Merlin, especially First Class, is such
a huge publicity event... you come over all
reticent to make the award? Especially when
it's as popular as awarding one to Harry
would be."
"Errr..."
"Well, that's easy to deduce, isn't it,
Cornelius? Because, if there's one thing you
value more than publicity, it's political power,
and the holding on to that power. After all,
it's why you're such a publicity addict in the
first place. And, the only way you can hang
on to political power is with the backing of,
shall we say, certain benefactors?
"Hmm. So, either Dumbledore or Malfoy, or
both, have demanded you block young Harry
getting his well-earned and deserved Order
of Merlin, First Class. That's not very polite,
Cornelius.
"Umm..."
"However, I can help you see reason. You
need to also be aware of some major
changes in the political landscape that have
recently occurred. If you had been aware of
these, beforehand, you may not have so
foolishly acted as you have.
"The first is that Dumbledore doesn't have
the support within the Wizengamot you
appear to think he has. His powerbase has
been well and truly undermined. And that's
happened because young Harry has
reactivated the Potter alliances."
"He... did that?" asked a thoroughly cowed
Fudge.
"He did," confirmed Sirius. "Young Harry,
though he does not sit upon the Wizengamot
yet, has effectively taken control of the
alliance. And, in doing so, has greatly
reduced Dumbledore's support base. He is no
longer, and hasn't been for a while,
Dumbledore's 'man'."
Sirius watched as Fudge tried to think that
out.
"But, not only that, Cornelius," he continued.
"I'm taking back control of
the Black alliance."
Fudge's eyes widened so much they nearly
bugged out of his head.
With a slow nod and smirk, Sirius said, "I see
you understand what that means. It means
much of Malfoy's alliance is being stripped
away from him.
"So, you see, Cornelius; you're worrying
about the wrong two wizards and their
threats. Malfoy may have money to, shall we
say, support your re-election campaigns; but,
that's about all he has now. Together, Harry
and I have the numbers to make your
re-election quite impossible should we wish
it. We may even have the numbers to get you
booted from office. That is, of course, if we
thought we'd need to.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you,
Cornelius?" he asked.
"I..." tried Fudge. "Err... Yes. Yes; I
understand."
"I thought you might," smirked Sirius. "I
believe you're leaving us for about a week in
a few days."
"Errr... yes," replied Fudge. "A... Heads of
Government meeting in some dinky foreign
country in Europe."
"Liechtenstein," said Sirius. "I think at least a
week away from magical Britain meeting
with your peers should do you a world of
good, Cornelius. You should take Senior
Undersecretary Umbridge with you, if you
weren't already. Order your office not to
contact either of you unless it's concerning
the existence of a state of war, or something.
Take time to relax.
"Then, when you feel well-rested after your
not less than one and not more than two
weeks away from the office, you come back
here and immediately organise young Harry's
award ceremony for his Order of Merlin, First
Class. You should plan on awarding it to him
no later than the end of March; preferably,
earlier. Alright, Cornelius?"
"Umm... yes. Capital idea," he said.
"Nice chatting with you, Cornelius," said
Sirius, rising to his feet. "I'll see myself out."
Without even looking back, Sirius simply
strode from the room. As he walked out of
the Minister's offices, he thought to himself,
'And, that's how the Blacks do it.'
Chapter 215
Walking in to the living room of their
apartment a little over a week since the
second task, Daphne walked to the
mantelpiece and removed the silenced,
unbreakable jar containing Skeeter's
animagus form. She carried it over to the
coffee table and placed it on top as Harry and
Hermione entered.
While she was moving the jar, Harry and
Hermione were sealing the room. Even the
mail owl window was temporarily sealed.
They didn't have to worry about throwing up
anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards, as
those already existed over the school.
However, more importantly, they'd been
using the time since the second task to
research how to set up an anti-animagus
ward, and how to force an animagus back
into its human form. So, for this purpose,
they made ready to throw up the
anti-animagus ward.
Once done, Harry conjured a hard seated and
backed wooden chair with strong armrests.
"Are we done?" asked Daphne. "Are we
ready?"
"We are," replied both her spouses, keeping
their wands out.
She reached over and unscrewed the lid of
the jar, tipping it over onto the floor.
The little water beetle slid out and landed on
its back on the carpet before it began kicking
its legs a little.
"Reddere Formam!" muttered Hermione.
Skeeter's animagus transformation was
cancelled, replacing the beetle with the witch
lying on her back on the floor.
As soon as she appeared, Harry ripped the
wand out of her hand and tossed it onto the
coffee table, before doing the same with her
purse.
Then he and Daphne picked her up under her
arms and dumped her into the wooden chair,
while Hermione brought up the temporary
anti-animagus ward, as they had rehearsed.
"Stay there, Skeeter," demanded Daphne of
the vile woman.
Harry conjured a glass and filled it with water
before handing it to the still completely
confused witch.
The three then returned to couches and
armchairs in a half circle around the front of
the woman and waited for her to get her
bearings back.
"Wha... what... is the meaning of this?" the
woman demanded as soon as she regained
her senses.
"It's really quite simple, Miss Skeeter," said
Daphne, quite firmly. "You are an illegal
animagus. Your animagus form, a water
beetle, was caught riding on Miss Granger's
hairclip while it was in her hair.
"Of course, as there are no animagus forms
of a water beetle registered with the
Ministry of Magic, we had no possible way of
knowing we'd captured an animagus, rather
than a plain water beetle."
"This room is sealed shut," said Hermione.
"You are not going anywhere until we decide
you will leave."
"Why?" the woman asked, now able to think
more clearly.
"I told you, Miss Skeeter, to keep your nose
out of my... our... personal business," replied
Harry. "You were told you would have
opportunities for personal exclusives if you
behaved yourself. You agreed. Using your
animagus form to spy on me and mine, after
you were quite vehemently told not to, is
what got you into this predicament."
"So, since your word is insufficient, we've
come up with a way to force your
compliance," said Hermione, sliding a
contract across the coffee table towards the
witch.
Warily, Skeeter reached down and picked up
the contract. She carefully read it while her
face blanched with shock.
When she'd finished, with her hand shaking
while holding the document, she said, "This
could ruin me!"
"Yes," said Harry. "That's the idea. This way
we force you to never write nonsense about
the Potters, the Greengrasses or the Grangers,
Sirius Black or Remus Lupin. Everything you
do write about them you will confirm as fact,
in advance. You cannot even use a quote
someone gives you, if you haven't already
confirmed it as true."
"That means there'll be no going to someone
like Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson and
have them say something vile, then printing
that," said Hermione. "And, yes,
we're well aware that's one of your little
ways to attempt to get around the laws of
slander."
"So, Miss Skeeter," said Daphne. "That
document will be your confession of what
illegal and despicable acts you do
while disgustingly claiming you do it in the
name of journalism. Sign it, and you're
almost free to go."
"And what's to stop me from simply walking
out of here?" she huffed haughtily.
Harry grinned and held up his hand. He
started to tick points off his fingers. "One,
this room is magically sealed and you cannot
leave. Two, we know the spell to force your
body back into its animagus form. Three, if
an animagus is killed while they're in their
animagus form, their body remains in the
animagus form. Four, my friend Neville has a
toad that loves the taste of water beetles.
Five, no one knows you're here. Six, those
who do know you're an animagus, and what
your form is, know you could always come to
harm while in your animagus form. Seven,
only your editor will miss you... for about a
week... and then you'll not even rate a
footnote in your own paper. Eight,
you've already been missing for a week and
no one's come looking for you, nor has word
of your disappearance appeared in your own
paper."
Skeeter stared back in fear at the very
serious faces of the three for a few moments
before she finally placed the confession back
on the coffee table. She picked up the
offered quill and, hesitating but a moment,
signed the document.
"Thank you, Miss Skeeter," said Daphne, as
Hermione pulled the document away, dried
the ink, and put the document in her book
bag for later.
"Now, Miss Skeeter," said Harry. "In this
room and extending outwards a good few
feet is an anti-animagus ward. We are going
to return you your wand so you may attempt
to transform, so you can confirm it exists.
Attempt to use your wand to do anything
other than transform and
we'll hurt you; really hurt you."
Daphne handed Skeeter her wand as all
three had theirs drawn and levelled on the
older witch from three diverse directions.
With her wand in her hand, the three
watched as Skeeter concentrated for a
moment before she looked back at them in
shock.
With a nod back, Harry said, "Good. Now you
know. You should also know that if you enter
the ward while in your animagus form it will
force you to revert to human form. As it is a
forced transformation, it will be painful."
Daphne added, "Our ward extends a few feet,
even beyond the windows. Be aware; if you
attempt to use your form to fly in through
one of our windows, you will be forced back
into your human form, and you will plummet
approximately eight stories to your death. Do
you understand?"
Skeeter went a little more white but just
nodded back.
Chapter 216
"This is the last warning you will get from us,
Skeeter," Harry firmly warned her, as he
reached over and picked up her purse. He
then tossed it into her lap.
"I'll take down the room sealing and
anti-animagus wards for no more than
fifteen seconds," said Hermione. "I will then
tell you I've done so. At that time, you are
free to leave by way of the window. After
those fifteen seconds I re-erect the wards. If
you have not sufficiently cleared them by
that time, you will revert to your human
form and plummet to your death. Do you
understand?"
Skeeter nodded.
"Good," said Hermione, as she stood. "Just
remember, Miss Skeeter; bother us again...
write lies about us, our families and or our
friends... and that confession, which
could easily double as a suicide note, will
become public."
"I understand," she quietly but fearfully said.
Hermione quickly took down the
anti-animagus and room sealing charms
before she looked back at Skeeter. "Go!" she
said.
Skeeter immediately concentrated and
shifted into her animagus form.
The three watched it hover in the air for a
moment before it flew out the window and
away.
"Do you think she'll obey?" asked Harry.
"Yes," said Daphne, after a moment. "I do."
Madam Bones and her senior auror staff
were steadily working through each office of
each Department, including her own. Of
course, it wasn't long before the
Unspeakables learned of it and Croaker paid
her another visit.
"I know what you're doing," said Croaker, as
soon as he popped into her office.
"Bloody Hell, Algernon!" she again barked at
him, after first jumping fright.
"Stop doing that!"
"How bad is the problem?" he asked,
completely ignoring her blustering.
"Bad enough!" she replied, grumbling and
trying to calm down again. "Almost every
office has at least one Death Eater working
within it. And almost every office has
someone accepting bribes and or supports
Riddle on top of that. If Riddle does come
back, as young Mister Potter and
Dumbledore both firmly believe, if we didn't
know about them all, we'd be in trouble.
"No, we are in trouble," she corrected herself.
"If we moved to rid ourselves of those
people, we'd find ourselves severely lacking
manpower to prosecute another war."
"I noticed your questioning didn't include
asking if my people had infiltrated those
offices," he said.
"Of course not!" she grumbled. "I'm not an
idiot."
"I never thought you were," he wryly replied.
"But, I thank you for it, anyway."
"If... no, when... we have to clear house, I'm
going to need the help of you and your
people," she said.
"You'll have it and them," he replied.
"I will want the lifts, stairs and Floos all
blocked; all internal and external
communications shut down; but still allow
me and my people to move through the
offices and take away those we need to," she
said. "I'll also be asking we place those
who're 'Marked' into your cells... and I know
you have them... to keep them separated
from those we arrest just for taking bribes.
"I'd also like to summarily dismiss all those
who would support Riddle... and will
probably be Marked, if given the
opportunity... but, I don't know if I'm going
to be allowed to get away with that. Fudge
will overrule me. He'll say, and he'll be right,
we can't dismiss someone for something
they might do. That's not a crime."
"We'll figure something out, Amelia," said
Croaker. "He's not back yet. Now, I have a fair
idea why, but I'd like you to tell me, anyway.
Why haven't you arrested those taking
bribes?"
"Because the ones doing the bribing would
soon find someone else to bribe and
continue on as they were," she replied. "I'd
much rather take the whole lot at the same
time."
"Wise," said Croaker. "And, for what it's
worth, our own investigations confirm what
you told me Mister Potter told you. The Dark
Mark is definitely getting darker."
"Well, shit," she said.
"Do not act precipitously, Amelia," he
warned. "Through your actions from the
warnings of Mister Potter, we currently have
an advantage. We don't want to lose that."
With a loud sigh, and before Croaker could
disappear again, she said, "There is… another
matter I need to discuss with you."
"Oh?" he asked.
"I'm also reliably informed there is a
prophecy concerning Mister Potter and
Voldemort," she quietly said.
Croaker just went still. He didn't respond.
"I'm informed a copy of it resides in one of
those spheres of yours in the Hall of
Prophecy," she said. "Mister Potter
requests… confirmation… that such a
prophecy exists. To demonstrate he knows of
it, he asks you look in 'aisle 97'. Then, he
wants to talk to you about it."
"How does he know?" asked Croaker.
"No idea," she replied with a tiny bit of a
shrug. "But, he says it will confirm that
Vol… Riddle… is not as dead as everyone
seems to think he is."
"Well, shit," said Croaker, echoing Amelia's
sentiments of a minute earlier.
Harry and his wives had returned to normal
life in the castle, and were in their apartment
soon after classes ended for the day, when
they received a knock on the door from the
statue.
Daphne, nearest at the time, went and
opened it.
"Oh!" she softly exclaimed, stepping out of
the way.
Harry and Hermione looked up in time to see
a tall person step through in Unspeakable
robes. However, the nature of said robes
made it difficult, if not impossible, to tell if it
was a man or a woman, or even what height
they really were.
Not willing to take chances, all three drew
their wands as soon as the Unspeakable was
fully within the apartment.
Carefully, so not to cause the three undue
alarm, the Unspeakable raised his hands and
flipped back his hood.
Chapter 217
They saw the man standing there to be who
Harry thought it would be. "Croaker," he
muttered.
"And just how did you know that, Mister
Potter?" he asked.
"I have my ways," said Harry. "What brings
you here?"
"In a moment," he said. "I'll give you an oath,
first."
Without waiting for acknowledgement, he
allowed his wand to drop into his hand
before giving his oath. "I, the Unspeakable
known as Algernon Croaker, hereby swear on
my magic I am not in the Hogwarts
apartment of Harry Potter and his ladies to
do him or them or all three harm. As I say, so
I swear."
There was a muted flash of light as the oath
took affect.
He then raised his wand and asked, "May I
add to your wards?"
"With what?" asked Daphne, not giving an
inch.
He smiled at her and said, "An Unspeakable
level anti-surveillance ward."
"Go ahead," she said, after only a moment.
Croaker cast the ward and the four of them
felt it settle over them, before he lowered
and resheathed his wand.
With a gesture towards the armchair, he
asked, "May I?"
Harry nodded and Croaker moved to sit on
the armchair, after Crookshanks received
short shrift.
The three returned to sitting down as they
resheathed their own wands, but spread
across three of the couches. Watching them,
Croaker seemed amused that they sat
themselves widely separated.
"I take it no one else knows you're here?"
asked Harry.
"No," he replied.
"So, what brings the Head of the
Unspeakables to come and converse with
us?" asked Hermione.
"Two reasons. First, I received a report from
one of my people," said the man who was an
enigma, getting to the point. "She received a
visit from Missus Greengrass-Potter's father."
Harry wasn't surprised Croaker knew that
little tidbit. He was only surprised that the
man felt he needed to mention it.
"Mister Greengrass handed to her a
transcript of a discussion you had just prior
to Christmas at Greengrass Farm. It was on
the nature of souls, bodies and magic. I take
it you recall what I'm talking about?"
"I do," replied Harry, with a little nod of his
head.
"My... colleague... found the information
quite startling. And almost immediately
brought it to my attention," said Croaker.
"That is, after she took time to... absorb the
information. She, as did I, found the
information quite… unsettling."
Harry just sat there, not responding; which
led Croaker, after a few moments, to smirk
back.
'Point to me,' thought Harry. "And, why are
you here?" he asked.
"I wanted to meet the young man who was
capable of such profound thoughts," replied
Croaker. "I also wanted to know how you
came to such."
Harry sat back and thought about it for a few
moments, before he felt the very light tickle
of a Legilimency probe. Almost
subconsciously, he batted it away.
"Naughty, naughty!" he smirked back.
Croaker just cocked an eyebrow at him.
Apparently, not in the least abashed at being
caught in the attempt.
Harry eyed him for a few moments more and
said, "As a child I was always able to think.
And, by that, I mean really think. Because of
my upbringing, I also needed to be
very aware of my surroundings, at all times.
It was only the interference of the Weasley's
potions that interrupted that mental flow.
Now that I'm free of the potions, I'm once
more able to think."
"Besides the nature of your true three-way
soul bond," said Croaker, letting them know
he knew the truth about that as well, "What
made you think about the nature of souls,
bodies and magic?"
"That started it, of course," replied Harry.
"But then I started to observe my
environment again. I take it you understand
the first rule of experimentation is
observation?"
Croaker gave him a mere nod of
acknowledgement.
"Mmm. So, I started to observe," said Harry.
"And to think about what it was I was
seeing."
Harry settled himself more relaxed in his seat.
"Ghosts only coming from magicals, for
instance. Why? If magic is part of the physical
'you' rather than spiritual 'you' that should
not be possible. However, if magic is spiritual
rather than physical, residing in the spirit
rather than the body, it makes sense. But, of
course, it's only a hypothesis at the moment.
"To prove my hypothesis, if I could manage it
without too many people finding out about it
in the early stages of the research, I'd find a
way of making a wand free float without the
use of magic. Or, just hang it suspended by a
piece of string. Then I'd ask a ghost to 'grip'
the wand, as if they could actually hold it.
And then I'd ask them to see if they could
channel magic through it. Of course, as they
can't move the wand making the right
gestures, I'd ask them to perform something
simple that didn't require gestures; such
as, Lumos and Nox.
"If I'm right and they can, that would... right
there... prove my hypothesis. And, my
thoughts on it tell me it would work."
He looked right at Croaker again and asked,
"Are you aware of what happened in the
Chamber of Secrets here back almost two
years ago?"
"Tell me about it," he said, neither
confirming nor denying what he knew.
"There was an object, a diary, that contained
what I've now come to know was a soul
fragment of Tom Riddle. In effect it made the
diary a soul container, of sorts," said Harry.
What Harry didn't know was that Croaker felt
as if his blood had just turned to ice. He was
very thankful that his outward demeanour
did not reflect his perturbation.
"The enchantments on the diary included a
compulsion charm to cause one to begin
writing in it. Once they did, they couldn't
help but… unburden their soul… onto the
pages within. From my own contact with the
accursed thing, it would also write back,
encouraging you to keep going. Through that
process you would begin to fall under the
thrall of the soul fragment within," continued
Harry.
"By the events of the battle with the basilisk
within the chamber, that thrall had reached
the point where the soul fragment was
drawing off, apparently, the life force of the
young victim in an attempt to regain a
physical body. It seemed to be working, too.
Chapter 218
"By the time I arrived down there, the soul
fragment had the appearance of a ghost and
was outside of the diary, the ghost took on
the form of a fifteen year old Tom Riddle. But,
the amazing thing was, young Mister Riddle
was able to pick up... and use... a wand. He
cast spells through it. He used
the Flagrante charm to fire-write in the air. It
was that event, more than anything else,
which got me thinking about whether magic
was in the body or in the spirit.
"It was also that event that got me thinking
that a ghost always takes the form of the
shape the body was in when it died.
Riddle's... spirit... in the Chamber was of his
fifteen year old self, and wearing his
Hogwarts uniform, complete with his
Prefects' badge. That is, the time the soul
fragment was broken off. However, his spirit
that was possessing Quirrell a year before
was in the form of his mutilated sixty-plus
year old self."
"Makes sense," said Croaker. "And your idea
that unborn magical souls going into muggle
foetuses is how we get muggleborns?"
"Again, it's a logical hypothesis. Muggle
science in genetics tells us the likelihood of
diverse muggleborns being conceived and
having pretty much an identical magical
disposition; such as the ability to use a wand,
the same interaction with 'wizard' magic...
rather than, say, elfish or goblin magic... and
similar magical strength; would be
considered by a muggle geneticist as so
unlikely as to induce one to roar with
laughter at the absurdity of it.
"However, having thought more on the
subject, I've also reached a hypothesis that
all muggleborns are actually the many times
removed offspring of squibs. So, the two
hypotheses are now in conflict. Or, are they?
"It could also be that both are correct. That is,
magical souls are drawn to muggle foetuses
that have a genetic predisposition towards
magic due to their ancestry.
"I just don't know," he shrugged. "However,
one day, I hope to find out."
Croaker looked back at Harry for a few
moments with an inscrutable expression
before he seemed to reach a decision. He
gave a firm nod and said, "I'd rather you
not."
Surprised, Harry asked, "Why ever not?"
"Consider the political and societal
ramifications," the Unspeakable replied. "If
the purebloods learn that their magical
heritage has absolutely nothing to do with
their... blood. It could bring down our
society.
"Second, if it can be learned that a ghost can
cast magic, it could have major ramifications
with ghosts being used to cast offensive
spells. Once you learn a fact, that fact can be
used for nefarious purposes."
"It can also be used to lead the way into a
glorious future," disagreed Hermione.
"Scientists, the world over, have struggled
with that concept in the muggle world for
millennia.
"A perfect example is the thoughts and
findings of Galileo Galilei," she began to
explain. "In the late sixteenth century he put
forward the hypothesis that the heavens...
the stars, the sun and the moon... did not
revolve around the Earth, as was the very
popular belief of the day. Instead, he posited
that the Earth was only another body within
the firmament, and that it actually revolved
around the sun.
"He then extrapolated on that and stated the
sun, our sun, was only one of many
within galaxies of such. This flew in the face
of current thought. And it flew in the face of
the dominant religious beliefs of the time.
That is very much akin to the situation in
magical Britain... perhaps the magical world,
as a whole... today.
"Of course, we now know Galileo's views to
be true. And that has led to astounding and
enormous leaps in scientific knowledge;
especially as it relates to astrophysics, space
exploration and meteorology, to name a few
such fields of study.
"No, Mister Croaker," she said. "It's not the
research and thoughts that are the problem.
You need to prepare society... it's beliefs and
it's mores... for the possible findings of what
may well be discovered. What will be
discovered sooner or later. You cannot stop it
happening. As Professor McGonagall once
told us; you need to do what is right, not
what is easy."
"I have no intention of dumping this on
magical Britain in one great dump of
knowledge, Mister Croaker," said Harry. "I'll
dole it out, piecemeal. We're first starting
with the nature of the soul. And that'll be
disseminated in the book on soul-bonds
we're currently writing. And, it'll not be as a
fact; it'll be as an idea... a concept. In other
words, we're writing about how we feel we
are souls with bodies, rather than bodies
with souls.
"That'll give the populace something to think
about. It'll be something for them to consider
for themselves. Then, we start coming out
with the findings from observational
evidence. And, finally, the findings from
physical experimentation.
"And all that will be spread over many years.
We don't want to dump it all in their laps as
a fait accompli. They'll feel as if they just got
smacked up the side of the head with a
mackerel, and will illogically rebuke and
rebut. We don't want that. We want them to
accept the findings without a knee-jerk
denial of the evidence similar to the
responses against Galileo."
"And yet you did... as you put it... smack the
populace in the side of their heads with a
mackerel, when you released that
information about the truth of Voldemort,"
argued Croaker.
"That's because we don't have time to hold
back regarding Riddle," said Harry. "Riddle's
been trying to get himself physically
resurrected since at least 1991 that I know of.
He tried in 1991-92 to get the Philosopher's
Stone. And, he tried to suck the life force out
of young Ginevra Weasley in 1992-93. I also
believe it's his agents who have forced me to
compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament;
possibly in an attempt to kidnap me. And his
Dark Mark is darkening, which is leading his
followers to believe he's on his way back to
physical form.
"Sooner or later, probably sooner, Riddle will
succeed; and we'll have Voldemort to face
once more. Unless you have a way to entrap
and then banish his spirit, he has time,
determination and perseverance on his side."
Croaker sat there for a few moments before
he suddenly said, "Tell me about this soul
container; this... diary."
So Harry led him through what he knew of it,
other than he knew it to be called a horcrux.
But he lied and told him that spirit Riddle
told him he'd planned to make others, and
probably had. But didn't tell him they'd
found them and used the ritual circle in the
Room of Requirement to banish the soul
fragments from them.
Ritual magic was still banned by law, except
for very specific purposes, within magical
Britain. Besides, they didn't want the
Unspeakables to find the ring before
Dumbledore. That would be disastrous.
Chapter 219
It also meant sending Dumbledore after the
ring was now a high priority. And that
brought them to the subject Harry wanted to
speak about with the man. He was about to
raise it when Croaker beat him to it.
"Madam Bones has informed me you wish to
visit the Hall of Prophecies to hear a
prophecy you believe is about you and
Riddle," said Croaker.
"I do," replied Harry with a slow nod.
"Do you know what it contains?" asked the
Unspeakable.
Harry hesitated a moment, unsure of how
much to tell the Unspeakable, when he
decided not to lie - or even misdirect – about
it. "Yes. Dumbledore has a copy of it in his
pensieve. He was present when the prophecy
was originally given."
"Do you remember what it says?" asked
Croaker.
"Vividly," replied Harry. "The one with the
power to vanquish the Dark Lord
approaches… Born to those who have thrice
defied him, born as the seventh month dies.
And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal,
but he will have power the Dark Lord knows
not… And either must die at the hand of the
other for neither can live while the other
survives. The one with the power to
vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the
seventh month dies."
Harry then sat back with a sigh.
"If you know what it says," said Croaker.
"Why do you want to go and listen to the one
in the Hall of Prophecies?"
"To confirm two things," he replied. "First,
that the prophecy in Dumbledore's pensieve
is real, and not one he faked up for my
benefit; and, second, to see if the sphere still
glows white, rather than dull grey."
"Ah! Of course," muttered Croaker. "That
way, you know the prophecy wasn't
completed in Godric's Hollow Halloween,
1981."
Harry simply nodded back.
When Croaker left a short while later, with
the excuse he had much to think about and
do, the three immediately began checking
the entire apartment for monitoring and
listening devices.
Once they were satisfied there were none -
that is, that they could find - Daphne said,
"We need to send Dumbledore after the
ring now."
"I know," sighed Harry.
"You shouldn't have told him you believed
there were other containers," she said.
"No, I had to," he disagreed. "I need him to
accept that Riddle is still out there. If he
thought there was only one, he might have
thought I'd destroyed Riddle for good with
the diary."
A quick glance at his watch and Harry sat up
straight. "Oh, damn," he muttered. "We're
missing dinner."
"Dobby!" called Daphne.
With a small pop the little elf appeared. "Yes,
Mistress?" he asked.
"Can you organise a dinner in here for us,
please?" she asked. "We seem to be running
late for dinner in the Great Hall."
"Yes, Ma'am. Dobby can be doing that." And
the little elf popped away again.
A few minutes later, they had a lovely layout
of a dinner for three at the round dining
table Dobby usually organised for them. They
spent quite a bit of time discussing Croaker's
visit.
The next morning the bondmates were
resolved to enact their plan to send
Dumbledore after the ring as soon as the
opportunity presented itself. And that
happened two days later.
They were coming down the stairs to the
Entrance Hall to head for dinner when they
spied Dumbledore talking to someone. Later,
they learned the person was the parent of a
Gryffindor student who had received a minor
injury during a 'mishap' in potions.
"We'll do it now," Harry muttered to his
wives.
As they were about to pass, Harry said, "No,
it's definitely a triangle, a circle and vertical
line. It's not a rune I can recognise, nor does
it look similar to one."
"A triangle in a circle with a line through it?"
asked Hermione.
"No, a circle inside a triangle with a vertical
line through it," he corrected.
They'd just passed the Headmaster, and the
parent he'd been talking to, when
Dumbledore called out and hurried over,
"Errr... Mister Potter?"
Harry and his wives turned to the
Headmaster. The parent was walking out the
main doors.
With a cold look, at the old man, Harry asked,
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"That... symbol you were describing... If I
may ask, where did you learn of it?" asked
Dumbledore.
Harry stared back for a few minutes
pretending to think about it.
Hermione, as planned said, "Tell him, Harry.
He might be able to help."
Harry looked to Hermione for a few
moments as Daphne said, "As much as I hate
to agree on this point, she's right."
As Hermione offered him encouragement, he
turned to look at Daphne. "You're sure?" he
asked her.
"Yes," she firmly said.
With a sigh, Harry turned to look back at
Dumbledore. The man was visibly eager to
hear what Harry had to say.
"I keep having this dream. It's the same
dream over and over again. It's of a ring with
this big ugly clunky stone on it. Carved onto
the ring's stone is this... symbol. It's a circle
within a triangle. Bisecting the triangle, and
circle, is a vertical line.
"The next thing I see is an old shack in the
woods. I know it has something to do with
the ring, but I don't know why. Nailed to the
door of the shack is a dead snake in a... flat
'S' shape. Standing just outside and away
from the door a bit, is a quite ugly man. He
looks angry. When I look at him, I think about
how gaunt he looks, though he's not, really.
If anything he's a bit... chunky. That's all I
know."
Harry nearly burst out laughing, when he
saw the expression on Dumbledore's face the
old man tried to mask.
"Headmaster?" he asked. "Do you know
what it means?"
Giving himself a bit of a shake the old man
readopted his grandfatherly mien and said, "I
shall spend some time thinking about it,
Mister Potter. Does... your scar hurt when
you have these visions?"
"It's not a vision, Headmaster," Harry
irritably replied; something he didn't have to
act. "It's a dream. I have them while I sleep.
It just happens to be one I'm aware of when I
wake up."
Chapter 220
"Yes, yes, of course, my boy," the old man
said almost absentmindedly. Coming back to
himself he said, "I shall discuss this with...
others and see if I can work out what it
means for you. Thank you for telling me."
"And, no, my scar doesn't hurt," Harry added.
"It hasn't hurt since we three soul bonded
and there was this hideous smell and black
muck come pouring out of the wound."
Lifting his fringe up, Harry showed the scar
and said, "Since then, the scar has been
fading away. What ever was there has now
gone for good."
Shocked at the state of Harry's scar, the
Headmaster goggled back a bit before he said,
"That's... incredible, Mister Potter. No more
headaches? No visions?"
"No, to both, Headmaster," Harry firmly said.
"I'm... glad to hear that," said the
Headmaster. Though, the old man also
appeared confused to hear it, too."
Harry gave a grunt in response and muttered,
"Whatever." He turned himself and his wives
around and walked towards the doors into
the Great Hall.
As they walked away, Hermione said loud
enough for the Headmaster to hear, "He
might be able to help, Harry. Give him time
to think about it and ask others."
As they sat down Daphne muttered to him,
"You saw how gaunt he looked, though he
wasn't? Could you have been any more
obvious?"
Harry smiled back and said, "I didn't want to
leave it up to chance it takes him a while to
figure it out."
All through dinner, the three bondmates saw
that Dumbledore didn't attend.
"Our Headmaster appears absent," said Luna
from across the table.
"He's probably too busy to attend," said
Daphne. "After all, he's currently hosting two
other schools, as well as looking after
Hogwarts."
Luna just smiled back and returned to her
dinner. Harry could tell she knew something
was going on. Harry just hoped she didn't
know they were planning the demise of the
Headmaster.
That afternoon they'd also been able to
'corral' Neville to find out anything more
about his parents. The girls practically
dragged him back to their apartment. Harry
was already there working on assignments
and wrapping up third year Ancient Runes.
"Look who we ran into," said Hermione,
dragging Neville in behind her.
"Nev!" exclaimed Harry. "Come in, please.
Have a seat."
"Do you usually send your wives out to
kidnap House scions, Harry?" the other boy
asked a little miffed, as he moved to sit
opposite.
"Huh?" asked Harry, thoroughly confused.
"Your wives grabbed me and dragged me up
here," explained Neville.
"Did they?" asked Harry, turning to look at
both. "Sorry. I had no idea."
"Never mind that," said Daphne, as both
moved to sit either side of Harry. "How are
your parents, Neville?"
"Oh! Ummm... They're good," replied the
other boy, now looking a little embarrassed.
"Have they been released, yet?" she asked.
"Yeah," replied Neville. "Sorry. I should have
told you."
Watching the byplay, Harry turned to Neville
and grinned. "I daresay that's why my wives...
as you put it... kidnapped you."
"We did not," huffed Hermione. "We invited
him to come visit."
"We just... didn't give him much choice in the
matter," finished Daphne.
Chuckling, Harry turned to Neville and said,
"Sorry. I find it's an exercise in futility to
argue with them."
"So I'm learning," Neville wryly grinned back.
"How've your parents been?" asked Harry. "I
take it, since they've both been released,
they're able to move about on their own
now?"
"Yeah; slowly," replied Neville. "But, Gran
and our house elves are there for them at
Longbottom Hall. Gran even 'splurged' and
bought another just to be nurse for them."
"We're happy for you, Nev," he said. "By the
sounds of it they'll both be right as rain by
summer break."
"That's the plan," sighed the other boy.
"Barring any complications, which seem less
and less likely each day, they should be able
to move about on their own by the end of
June or early July."
"So, how come you haven't come and kept us
updated?" asked Hermione.
"Hermione!" scolded Daphne. "That was
rude."
While Hermione blushed and muttered an
apology, Neville was also blushing.
"I'm... sorry about that," he said, looking
down. "I was... uncomfortable that I'm
getting my parents back... and Harry..." he
trailed off.
"You were worried I'd be offended you were
getting your parents back and I wasn't?"
asked Harry, shocked.
"Yeah," muttered Neville, still looking away.
"Then you were being an idiot," Harry firmly
shot back.
Startled, Neville jerked as if he'd been
slapped and stared back at Harry in shock.
"Neville," said Harry, leaning forward and
trying to be as earnest as possible. "Make no
mistake. I'm very, very happy for you. And for
them. Have you forgotten, already, that your
mother is my godmother?"
Calmer but a little sheepish, Neville replied,
"Umm... yeah; I did."
"Well, I'm genuinely happy for you, Nev,"
said Harry. "You need not worry I'd be upset
or jealous you have your parents back. My
name's not Ron Weasley."
A lot more relieved, Neville said, "Thanks,
Harry."
"There's nothing to thank me for," shrugged
Harry. "Other than for forgiving you for
thinking so poorly of me. And you have that,
too."
"Again, thanks," the other boy said, a little
firmer.
"That aside; and, since you're here; tea?"
asked Harry.
"That'd be nice," said Neville.
"Dobby!" called Daphne.
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