Hogwarts Under Siege!

-Reported by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for The Quibbler

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a bastion of higher education and a cornerstone of Wizarding culture, has long been a refuge for students as they struggle to master their magical gifts. Pureblood scion and wide-eyed Muggle-born alike spend long hours mastering the craft under the watchful eyes of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and his hand-picked teaching staff. These children — our children — represent the future of the Wizarding World, and their safety must be held paramount in the minds of all responsible adults.

Except, of course, for those adults who work for the Ministry of Magic.

In a manoeuvre that has many shaking their heads, Minister Fudge has ordered Dementors, the grisly creatures that guard the Wizarding prison of Azkaban, to lay siege to Hogwarts. The Ministry claims that this is being done to protect the school from the menace that is Sirius Black. Of course, one might wonder about this, considering recent objections aired in the press (including those raised by your faithful correspondent) regarding certain irregularities in the original proceedings against Mr. Black, coupled with the observation that if one believes the Ministry’s allegations, Mr. Black escaped from Azkaban when it was being guarded by Dementors.

The stated rationale given for this move is a string of dubious "Sirius Black sightings" that the Ministry claims they have received over the summer — placing him near the magical village of Hogsmeade. The possibility that the notorious fugitive is in the area would merit some action by the Ministry. However, to date no one in the press has been able to find any Hogsmeade residents who will verify that they saw Mr. Black, let alone alerted the Ministry. A curious state of affairs.

This year’s students returned to their school, their refuge of higher learning, only to find the gates guarded by soul-sucking monsters out of their worst nightmares. Such a wonderful introduction to our world for eleven-year-old Muggle-borns who have just discovered their magical heritage — being exposed to creatures whose very presence is used to punish society’s most hardened criminals.

Of course, if the Ministry were to go to such extremes to guard the public safety, surely they would not allow the grisly creatures near our children unless they were firmly controlled. That is something that concerned citizens and members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors were assured of when Minister Fudge issued his commands.

Therefore, one might be shocked to discover that these horrible monsters in the service of our Ministry ran amuck this past weekend, entering the grounds of Hogwarts itself, and attacking the gathered students during a school Quidditch match! If not for the quick reactions of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, who knows how many students might have had their very souls ripped away? How many others might have died in the panic as the crowd stampeded? How many of our children would have died to satisfy the Ministry’s vindictive need to pursue a man that many credible authorities assert may be innocent of all wrong-doing?

As it is, one student still lost her life in the melee. We at The Quibbler would like to extend our deepest condolences to the family of Prefect Melissa Bulstrode.

And we would also pose this question to the responsible parties in the Ministry, who have hands wet with the blood of a sixteen-year-old witch: How many more must die to appease the vindictive anger of an unaccountable Ministry?

OoOoO

Fear and Rumour-mongering Alleged after Sighting of Sirius Black

-Adolphus Milthwhispe, Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet

In a statement issued by the Ministry of Magic, Minister Fudge admits that he is "shocked and dismayed" regarding the wildly exaggerated events reported in the popular press. "While I don’t expect much from such shoddy publications," he continued, "this borders on the libellous. I’ll be consulting with Ministry solicitors regarding possible legal action."

OoOoO

Gringotts Makes Large Donation to Hogwarts Security

-Reported by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for The Quibbler

Today, in a surprise announcement, the Board of Directors for Gringotts voted to donate the services of their elite Ward-Masters to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Aside from various construction materials, this grant also includes several proprietary ward formulae of inestimable value. These formulae, which to date have never been allowed outside direct control of the goblins and their bonded employees, will allow significant upgrades to the school’s defences.

This action comes on the heels of an incident this past weekend, when a horde of Dementors, normally the gaolers of the Azkaban Wizarding Prison, escaped the control of their incompetent Ministry handlers and overran the school during a school Quidditch match. Although the foul creatures were quickly driven away by the Hogwarts staff, the ensuing panic resulted in several injuries and the death of a sixth-year prefect.

Gringotts Spokes-goblin Shraknak had this to say at an open press conference held earlier today at the Diagon Alley branch: "The management of Gringotts is highly concerned by recent events at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The young represent not only the potential of a people, but their hopes for the future. We find this blatant disregard for the safety of your young extremely troubling, and so we find ourselves taking steps to guarantee the safety of our future customers. These upgrades, offered pro bono, will prevent the Ministry’s Dementors from encroaching on the school grounds in the event of another accident."

This conference was curiously unattended by other members of the press, even those working out of offices located only blocks away.

When asked to make a comment on the surprise announcement, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had this to say: "The safety and wellbeing off all students is of great concern to every member of the Hogwarts staff. I was pleasantly surprised by this extremely generous gesture on the part of the Goblin Nation, and look forward to meeting with them to work out the details."

Reactions among the wizards and witches on Diagon Alley were varied.

"I haven’t had many dealings with the goblins, outside of Gringotts, but I’m glad to hear someone is doing something. I remember helping Miss Bulstrode with her robes, right before the term started. She was very polite, even when none of the regular stock fit, and we had to measure her for a special order. It was terrible, hearing she’d been killed like that." — Miriam Malkin, Clothier.

"Smells pretty fishy to me. Them goblins are always looking out for themselves first. I trust them about as far as I can spit one." — Mundungus Fletcher, Salvage Consultant.

"I have six children attending Hogwarts this year, and I’ve been worried out of my mind since I heard they were putting those horrid Dementors around a school! I was here doing some banking when the announcement came, and I could have kissed my teller when I heard the news. If the goblins are going to protect our children when the Ministry won’t, then good for them!" -- Molly Weasley, House Witch.

OoOoO

Harry blinked and set down his copy of The Quibbler. He suppressed a grin as Hermione snatched it up and began scanning the article. Her eyes were wide as she finished.

"Rita’s in rare form, isn’t she?" he asked in a low voice as he refocused on his breakfast.

Hermione nodded as the paper made the rounds among the other Gryffindors. "I’d hate to get on her bad side," she murmured as she speared a sausage.

Harry’s grin widened. Oh, the irony…

"I hope Mum doesn’t get Dad in trouble," Ginny said in a worried voice. "Do you think someone in the Ministry might make trouble for him over this?"

Ron looked thoughtful, but then shook his head. "I don’t think so. Mum’s got a bit of a reputation, you know. Do you remember when Dad said Charlie could go to Romania after he finished school?"

Ginny frowned. "A little. There was a lot of shouting, wasn’t there?"

Ron nodded. "I don’t think anyone is going to hold Dad responsible for what Mum says about something like this."

"I think my Gran is just as upset," Neville added quietly.

"You’d think with all this bad press, the Ministry would recall the Dementors," Hermione said with a frown. "Why are they being so stubborn?"

"I’m not sure," Harry replied. This was starting to bother him as well. "Maybe the Minister is afraid that if he pulls them out now, he’ll be admitting he was wrong to send them here in the first place."

"He’s probably getting some very bad advice," Luna added. "My father has done a lot of stories about some of the Minister’s secret advisors. I don’t doubt that some of them are probably behind this."

Harry was impressed by Neville’s diplomatic nod.

OoOoO

Later that afternoon, Professor McGonagall asked Harry to stay after Transfiguration. He lingered, gathering up his parchment and quills, and promised his friends he’d meet up with them later.

After the last student filed out, Harry walked up to the desk occupied by his head of house. "Yes, Professor?"

"Gringotts has sent word that we may expect their envoys to arrive over the weekend," she informed him. "I take it they are… satisfied with what has happened?" she asked, her manner rather cool.

Harry nodded, slightly puzzled at her reaction. He didn’t think she had any issues with the goblins, but then again he couldn’t recall it ever coming up either. "They should be. Goldfarb said that they just wanted public acknowledgement of their donation. That really isn’t too much to ask, but he hinted that in the past such efforts haven’t always been received very graciously."

Professor McGonagall’s lips became even thinner as her eyebrows furrowed. "Be that as it may, this has put Hogwarts, not to mention the Headmaster, in a very delicate position. Minister Fudge has become highly incensed at this turn of events, and refuses to even speak to the Headmaster unless he rejects the goblins’ donation."

Harry winced. "That would not be a good idea," he said slowly. "That would be a major humiliation for them if he did that."

"I find it very odd, Mr. Potter," she said crisply, "that you are so solicitous with respect to the feelings of your goblin friends, while at the same time you seem almost unmindful of the consequences of your actions with respect to your own society."

Harry straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. He knew the signs of an incipient chewing out. He let his features fall into a neutral mask.

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t pause. Evidently, she’d been saving this up for a while. "Despite your past, Mr. Potter, you are, first and foremost, still a member of my house. Your words and your conduct reflect on myself and your housemates, as well as the rest of the school. I wanted to know what you were thinking when you gave that interview before the start of term, but I assumed the Headmaster would broach that subject with you in his own time. Since he has not seen fit to call you to task for your behaviour, it falls to me."

"I was not aware that anything I said to Ms. Skeeter was untrue," Harry said stiffly. It was difficult to keep the anger out of his voice. An increasingly cranky side to his personality was growing ever more frustrated with people questioning his actions or his motives. It was irrational, of course. Most people saw him as an overly precocious thirteen-year-old wizard — of course they’d question some of the things he’d done.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall snapped, "you are not a stupid young man, so I will appreciate it if you do not act as such in my presence. There is a world of difference between the content of one’s words and how they are delivered. Your answers were clearly crafted so as to cause as much ill will as possible. I find it curious that you are so wary of offending the goblins, yet still wish to enrage the majority of our own government with your accusations."

"The goblins," Harry said with a little heat, "have gone out of their way to be honest and forthcoming with me. Goldfarb has helped me in several ways, and never hesitated to answer any questions that he could." It was difficult to avoid contrasting that with Dumbledore’s reticence regarding the prophecy.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall replied, "you are still a minor, under the care of your legal guardians. It is the height of foolishness to antagonize people with the power to intervene. I’m amazed that your guardians even allowed you to speak to that woman."

Harry was distantly reminded of her instructions to him regarding keeping his head down around Professor Umbridge. Of course, that had worked out just swimmingly. "Actually, I’d worked out the substance of most of my answers with my guardians ahead of time," he admitted. "The tone was partially me, and a good bit of Rita’s professional skill."

That admission actually caught her off guard, something Harry didn’t often see in either time line. "Why on earth would they…?" she asked, her words trailing off.

"I asked Mr. Weasley," Harry explained, "just who Fudge’s closest advisors were. He may not hold a prominent position, but Arthur Weasley is no one’s fool. He can read the signs and pays attention to the cafeteria gossip as well. You and I both know that Lucius Malfoy paid a lot of money to avoid prosecution, and more of that money had Fudge hanging on his every word. If he hadn’t been so over-confident about the hearing, I might have ended up as his fosterling instead."

"All the better reason not to antagonize him until you are older," McGonagall insisted. "Politics at this level is best left to adults."

"You are assuming I have the time to wait," Harry objected. Then he lowered his voice, glancing at the closed door to the classroom. "Remember what we heard that night in the hospital wing, about what I still have to deal with. Certain things can’t be left undone forever. And if what almost happened two years ago does occur… you know certain people will flock to his side again."

McGonagall looked distressed. "You think this will happen… while you are still a student?"

At first, her expression puzzled him, but then he realized that she was far more concerned for him, than for the consequences to herself, and most of his irritation melted away. "I think it’s a possibility," he conceded grimly. "Better to plan for the possibility than be caught off guard. I learned that playing chess with Ron. If Voldemort returns… he owns Lucius, and the Minister is in Lucius’ pocket. He’ll turn on us, turn on Dumbledore, in an instant; he’s that venal."

"You sound like you’ve met him," McGonagall observed.

That brought Harry up short. "I don’t have to," he explained. "His decisions speak for themselves. All those pardons he expedited, yet he refuses to even consider re-opening Sirius’ case. Relations with other species are at very low ebb, mostly due to a combination of arrogance and apathy on the part of the Ministry. Things sliding a bit right after Voldemort’s fall is one thing, but ten years later?" He shook his head. "He’s little more than a chair-warmer, and a mouthpiece for whoever is filling his pockets."

"Then what is to be gained by antagonizing the man?" McGonagall demanded. She took a deep breath. "I don’t dispute what you are saying," she added in a calmer voice, "but attacking the man serves no purpose at the moment."

Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, let’s play a game of ‘let’s pretend.’ Have you ever considered what would happen if Fudge does turn on Dumbledore with no warning? If one day the public is reading about him advising the Minister, and the next he’s being denounced as crazy or misguided? Especially if Dumbledore has just told people something they don’t want to hear about — like Voldemort returning."

"Surely everyone would know if he returned," McGonagall objected. "That would rally people around the Headmaster. Hogwarts was considered one of the few safe havens in the last war — primarily because of him."

"All the more reason to keep it quiet," Harry argued, "so no one has time to prepare. And if his followers can get Fudge to discredit Dumbledore… would most people want to believe that Voldemort had returned?"

McGonagall was looking vaguely ill as she shook her head.

"I’ve been reading some Muggle books on popular media and how public opinion is moulded," he explained. "One of the odd things is how when there is a schism between two parties, advantage goes to the one that attacks first — all other things being equal. They can do a lot of damage to the other side’s reputation before it can be used to strike back, and any counterattacks lose credibility because it just looks like they are playing tit-for-tat."

McGonagall blinked. Twice. Harry didn’t think she’d been expecting this at all. "Then all this…?" she asked, gesturing vaguely.

Harry nodded. "I’m hoping that some people will catch on to what’s happening and start asking their own questions, but mostly I’m striking first, so Fudge will be de-fanged before he can turn on us."

"Mr. Potter, such tactics are… are scandalous in the extreme!" McGonagall objected. "No matter what the circumstances, you can’t just behave like…"

"Like a Slytherin?" Harry asked. He shrugged and felt his shoulders sag. He’d been hoping that she’d actually get it. "Professor, I just want to be alive to see my twentieth birthday and celebrate it with my family. My second family, that is — my first family is gone, thanks to the adults that were looking out for them."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving a silent McGonagall behind him, staring out into space.

OoOoO

Harry was a little surprised to find his friends loitering in the hallway when he left McGonagall’s classroom. Too weary for another argument, he just raised an eyebrow.

"After last year, do you really think we’re letting you out of our sight again?" Ron asked with some exasperation.

Harry took a deep breath. "I suppose not." He glanced over at Ginny curiously.

"Luna and I were just passing by," she said unconvincingly.

Harry smiled and shook his head. At least some of them understood. That was enough.

OoOoO

The following Monday, the second after the attack, they received a pleasant surprise at breakfast. Bill Weasley was sitting at the staff table next to Professor McGonagall.

Ron and Ginny both goggled as their eldest brother gave them a little wave. Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm before he could stand up. "I’m sure he’ll be able to see us afterwards," she whispered urgently.

Ron looked a bit rebellious, but nodded.

Before the food appeared, the Headmaster stood to make an announcement. "Today we will be having some visitors, not to mention alumni, on the grounds to help make some improvements. I know you will all make them feel welcome, but try not to interfere in anything they are doing. I know many of you will be brimming with questions, and I would ask that those be directed towards your Head of House."

With that, he sat down and the serving platters filled with food.

Harry noticed Ron was eating even faster than usual — which was saying a lot. Hermione would glance at him occasionally with an expression bordering somewhere between disbelief and dismay. But his attention was soon drawn to other Weasley brothers.

"You bloody well knew!" Fred hissed at Percy, who gave him a stern glare. George quickly glanced up towards the high table, evidently worried his twin had been overheard, but he didn’t look too pleased either.

"As Head Boy, I was required to assist the Deputy Headmistress with certain logistical arrangements for Masters Carpenter, Fitz-Williams, Holmes, and their crewmen. Bill was sent ahead to liaison with Hogwarts, since he was the most familiar with everyone. While I did speak to him, I was instructed not to divulge any of what I knew before it was announced."

"But he’s our brother," Fred insisted in an aggrieved tone. "You still should have told us, you great prat!"

Percy sniffed and raised his chin imperiously. "Then I would be abusing a position of trust. There is no doubt in my mind you two would have staged something ridiculous if you knew in advance." Then he raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I rather thought it made for a nice surprise."

Fred stared at Percy, his mouth slowly falling open. Then he turned to his brother. "Did he just prank us?" he asked in a shocked tone.

George looked thoughtful. "You know, I rather think he did. It wasn’t much of a prank, not by our standards, but when you consider the handicaps of the humour-impaired…"

Fred nodded. "You’re right, brother of mine. All things considered, this was rather spectacular. For Percy, anyway."

Harry suppressed a grin as he turned back to find his plate already filled. Ginny didn’t look his way once as he began to eat, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Evidently she didn’t want to take any chances where his continued skinniness and Mrs. Weasley’s wrath were concerned.

OoOoO

When they all had a free period, the Gryffindors bundled up and made their way across the grounds to where the warding crews were getting set up. They’d seen no sight of them during that morning’s run, so they’d evidently only just arrived. The three Masters were in close consultation with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Bill stood off to the side, looking a little uncomfortable.

When he saw them approach, Bill strode over, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dragon-hide jacket to keep them warm. "Fancy meeting you lot here," he said with a grin.

Ginny, of course, abandoned all decorum at that point and bounded up to her big brother, giving him a tight hug. Ron was almost as eager, but held back at the last moment and gave Bill a firm handshake instead. That only widened Bill’s grin.

"Mum’s been going spare between your owls, you know," Ginny said after the rest of them said hello. "There are a lot of things written about the Chinese Ministry, and every time she reads something new, she gets to worrying again."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"I don’t doubt that," Bill said seriously, "but that job’s over now. We’re back in England for the moment."

"For how long?" Ron asked.

Bill rubbed his jaw. "Might be a while. This is a pretty high-profile job, so everyone wants to make sure we do it right."

"Maybe not everyone," Hermione pointed out.

"That’s true," Bill agreed. "I read the papers coming over. But warding private property to protect the residents is a fundamental right under Wizarding Law. The Ministry can’t afford to step on that many peoples’ toes."

"But I thought Hogwarts was a public institution," Hermione objected.

"Technically, it’s not," Bill corrected. "It’s owned in whole by the Hogwarts Trust and managed by the Headmaster and the Board of Governors."

"Hogwarts Trust?" Harry asked curiously.

"One of Gringotts’ largest vaults," Bill explained. "Supposedly the seed fund was started by the Founders themselves, and various alumni have contributed vast sums through the ages. The interest pays for most of the upkeep, staff salaries, and funds tuition for worthy students that otherwise couldn’t afford to attend."

Harry wondered how Fudge ever managed to get his toady Umbridge installed as a professor, but didn’t know how he could phrase the question. Maybe the Ministry had some leverage through the licensing and accreditation processes. It seemed rather odd. But then again, Fudge was known for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Scrimgeour wasn’t much better, now that he thought about it. Was it a common failing of Ministers?

As expected, Hermione had a few questions arising from her readings on wards, some of which had been prompted by the announcements of the past week. To her credit, she managed to hold off until the social pleasantries had been exchanged before she began politely picking the former Curse-Breaker’s brain. From what Harry could understand of their conversation, it seemed that altering existing wards was a lot more complicated than just erecting new ones, as had been done at The Burrow.

That’s not to say that he understood much of their increasingly technical jargon, but Harry was pleasantly surprised he’d comprehended that much. Hermione drove them mercilessly in their Arithmancy revision sessions. It grew even worse after Professor Vector explained how Arithmancy was the foundation of spell design theory. Harry had no doubt that the Muggle-born witch was taking her self-assigned role in their little group very seriously.

The bag of tricks Hermione produced during the ill-fated "Horcrux Hunt" had been a source of wonderment to both himself and Ron. Now, Harry could dimly see the origins of her modified spells and incredibly useful objects (like that bottomless beaded bag she seemed to carry one of everything in). At the time, she’d only had a few months to prepare for their journey. This time around, she’d hopefully have years, and Harry was both eager and a little apprehensive when he wondered what Hermione would come up with.

OoOoO

The ward modifications took the better part of two weeks. While most of the crew packed up and left, Bill announced that he was assigned to stay for an extra week to monitor the wards and periodically test for any ‘cumulative energy conflicts’ that might arise. Ron and Ginny were quite happy to hear that, and Harry was sure that they’d been missing their older brother since he’d left home.

The weekend after the wards were completed, the school celebrated by watching Ravenclaw systematically demolish Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch. Harry kept his wand in his hand the entire time, and some of the other students seemed a little uneasy — no doubt remembering the last game.

But no sooner was the Snitch was released than the tension began to fade. Despite himself, Harry was drawn into the game with everyone else. Since their rematch with Hufflepuff was scheduled for next term, Oliver had been quite adamant about them learning as much as they could about both teams. But candidly, Harry had to admit that he still got a charge out of watching a good match. The Ravenclaw Chasers worked like a well-oiled machine, quite possibly as good as Katie, Angelina, and Alicia. The Hufflepuff Keeper was having a very long afternoon indeed. Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory certainly didn’t act like anything but keen competitors once they were in the air, but it was clear that only a miraculously quick catch by the Hufflepuff Seeker could save the game for them.

Harry’s eyes were glued to the Seekers, and he almost missed Bill joining them in the Gryffindor section of the stands. In the end, Cedric and Cho saw the Snitch at roughly the same instant. They were neck and neck pursuing it, but a well-aimed Bludger forced Cedric to veer off at the last instant. Cho caught the Snitch, adding one hundred and fifty points to the Ravenclaw lead and sealing their victory.

Cedric seemed to accept the drubbing with aplomb, Harry noted with approval, taking time to shake the hands of his opponents and congratulate them on a good game. His team-mates followed his example, except they didn’t kiss Cho Chang on the cheek. That last part triggered a few cat-calls from the Slytherin seats and a raucous cheer from the DA members scattered throughout the stands.

As the spectators began making their way back to the castle, Bill announced that he’d secured permission from Professor McGonagall to take Harry, Ron, and Ginny into Hogsmeade for dinner. They turned to him in surprise as Bill explained that Neville, Hermione, and Luna were invited as well, but he couldn’t sign them out to leave the school grounds. It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend and they weren’t family members.

"What about Percy and the twins?" Ron asked, sounding a little suspicious.

"Percy is taking them with him," Bill answered. "As Head Boy, he can escort them off the grounds, since Mum and Dad owled McGonagall."

Harry grunted. The Transfiguration professor had been quite distant since their conversation regarding media ethics, but he supposed he didn’t really have anyone but himself to blame for that.

"Well, Hermione and I can get ahead on our Ancient Runes," Neville said agreeably.

"And I still need to finish my Potions essay," Luna added.

Hermione looked a little disgruntled, but nodded. "I’m just a little curious, that’s all," she admitted.

Bill shrugged. "Mum wanted us to all get together for dinner," he explained. "Not sure why it couldn’t wait for the hols, but I find my life is a lot easier when I just smile and nod."

"That’s because you’ll probably be halfway around the world again by end of term," Ginny replied with some asperity. "She decided to do something while you were actually here."

Bill smiled. "Maybe I do travel a lot, but it pays well and it’s a good bit of fun too. Broadening the mind and all that."

OoOoO

Harry kept a firm grip on his wand as they walked past the Dementors on guard duty. He noted that they stood quite a bit farther from the gates than he remembered. They also seemed to emanate a palpable sense of menace — even more than usual. He wondered if they were capable of feeling anger, if it upset them that they were repelled by the school wards now.

As disturbing as it might be, such a thought cheered him a little.

In the distance, he saw more of the ghastly beings, patrolling the perimeter of the school grounds. It was hard to guess how many of the things were on duty in the area, but the mass he’d seen during those chaotic moments at the end of the first Quidditch match suggested that it was quite a few.

Bill quickly led them away from the gates and towards the Three Broomsticks. With a quick nod to Madam Rosmerta, he gestured for them to head up the stairs to the private rooms. Harry stopped for a moment, pretending to re-tie his shoe so he could linger in the rear. He wasn’t exactly suspicious of Bill, but all this mystery was making him nervous.

Of course, his fears proved to be groundless. In the same room Augusta and Neville had met within were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Percy, Fred, and George.

Bill closed the door and began a variety of extremely complex-looking wand motions while Mrs. Weasley hugged each of them, exclaiming over how much they’d grown. Harry couldn’t help but notice the extra tight squeeze he received around his midsection — nor the approving smile Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny as she stepped back.

Clearly he wasn’t being paranoid regarding the conspiracy to fatten him up.

As they sat down around a table laden with a rather nice dinner, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. He glanced over at his eldest son, who gave him a firm nod. "Well," he began, "I thought it might be nice to take this opportunity to get together and discuss… some family business. Bill?"

Harry frowned, wondering where this was going.

"Harry," Bill said. "I’m not exactly sure why, but Dad asked me if I knew anything about Occlumency. I assumed the Ministry was instituting tighter security protocols, so I let him know that I’d been fully certified as part of my professional credentials. It wouldn’t do to have the details of some of the jobs I’ve done available to anyone who can read my memories. Between that, and the oaths I’ve sworn, our clients’ secrets are kept safe. I tried to reassure him that it wasn’t too difficult to master, but then he told me he already knew how."

"We’ve already sent Charlie the book," Mr. Weasley cut in, "and he’s working on it now. But I thought this might be a good time to include Bill in our plans."

Harry swallowed and managed to suppress his initial reaction. It was an overpowering sense of resentment that didn’t seem right for him to be feeling, let alone expressing. Something inside of him was angry that he’d been led here and put into a corner like this, expected to spill his secrets on command.

In a flash of insight, Harry recognized this emotion — it was a proprietary sense of command, a feeling that only he should be making the decisions based on his future knowledge. It wasn’t a very attractive thing to realize about himself, a sentiment that made him feel ashamed once it had been dragged out into the light. He took a deep breath and quashed his instinctive objections and tried to analyze the situation rationally.

Bill Weasley was no slouch as a wizard. He was a bonded Gringotts employee with extensive experience in both curse-breaking and ward construction. His exploits in the future timeline only bore this out. Collapsing Durmstrang’s wards in less than a night, no matter the horrific cost, was no minor achievement. His skill and experience could only be an asset.

Just as important were the emotional aspects. He was the Weasley’s first-born child. They trusted him, so naturally they wouldn’t wish to keep secrets from him. Well-intentioned or not, Harry had pulled most of the Weasley family into his mess, so he could not in good conscience demand that they exclude Bill without very good reasons.

Harry also realized that he shouldn’t be acting like a dictator either. That was Voldemort’s way. He’d started all of this, but Arthur and Molly were adults, and he had no right to make more than suggestions. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Do your oaths to Gringotts allow you to keep something secret, as long as it isn’t a plot aimed at harming their interests?"

Now it was Bill’s turn to frown. He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "I don’t think there would be any problems with that. Why? Are you planning to overthrow the Ministry?"

Harry blinked while Fred and George chuckled. "Not too far off the mark there," Fred murmured.

"Not quite," Harry assured Bill. He didn’t acknowledge the glare Ginny was sending at the twins, but he was grateful nonetheless. "It’s a long story, but I guess it really begins before I was even born."

Repetition actually made it easier for him to summarize the events that led Harry to his current situation. He’d actually practiced it silently in his own mind a few times when he was alone. No doubt there would come a day when he’d have to explain things to someone very quickly, and it was better to get the stumbling around done in private. The familiarity of his task also meant that he could focus more attention on his audience.

Bill Weasley kept a very neutral expression on his features, a trait no doubt cultivated in his current career. Still, Harry kept a close eye out for when his disbelief got the better of him — because that was probably the best time to pause for questions.

Surprisingly, that moment never came.

Bill sat silent for well over a minute after Harry finished. Then he nodded. "That explains a lot," he finally said. Harry was relieved by the dumbfounded expressions on the twins — he wasn’t the only person caught off-balance by this calm acceptance.

Some of his surprise must have shown on his face, because Bill cracked a sudden grin. "Harry, what you’ve told me isn’t that much more unbelievable than things I’ve already learned. Goldfarb likes you. No one has ever heard of him being more than faintly tolerant of a human being before. But a thirteen-year-old wizard has both his respect and something akin to admiration… if we weren’t talking about a goblin and a human. He re-arranged the work-schedule for their crack ward-building team, and they are only just now catching up on the backlog. I’m told the late fees for the backlog came out of his own discretionary fund, something equally unheard of."

Harry closed his mouth with an audible snap. "All I did was tell him about Voldemort being after the Stone," he said after a moment. He knew Goldfarb had done him some favours, but this was far more than he expected.

"Harry, the Ministry wouldn’t tell Gringotts if it was raining fire," Bill declared. "I know there was some mess with your aunt and uncle as well. Goldfarb was on the verge of sacking an entire acquisitions team before you met with him. After that, they were all taken off suspension. Whatever you told him must have let him off the hook, so he was gracious in turn. That’s also not something you usually see in relations between wizards and goblins. I’m also willing to bet money you are behind the biggest public relations coup they’ve scored in centuries."

"I just owled Goldfarb about needing permission to use their ward formulae," Harry protested. "It was actually his idea."

Bill shook his head. "I know that Muggle-born girl you hung around with took enough notes that Dumbledore and Flitwick could have reverse-engineered it."

"Her name’s Hermione," Ron objected, speaking up for the first time. He froze and slowly flushed as everyone turned to look at him. Harry gave Fred a sharp glare right as opened his mouth. George elbowed his twin and Fred subsided.

"That would have been like stealing though," Harry said after a moment. "Just duplicating their work without compensating them for it. Right?"

Bill shrugged. "Technically, yes. But do you think Gringotts could sue Hogwarts and expect to win in a Ministry court? They’d be laughed out of the courtroom."

"That doesn’t make it right," Harry insisted stubbornly.

"What did I tell you?" Arthur asked Bill with a note of pride in his voice. Harry felt his cheeks warming for some reason.

"Yes, he does treat them just like people," Bill agreed. "And it’s not an act. He does it reflexively, even in private. That explains a lot, given how well Goldfarb reads people."

"So what does all this have to do with, er… what I was talking about?" Harry asked.

"Nothing directly," Bill admitted, "Though it does mean you had a pretty unusual attitude for a wizard, to make that kind of impression. I’ve also heard a few stories about some of your magic, not to mention your little ‘study group’."

"What kind of stories?" Harry asked in a worried tone.

"Oh, nothing too outrageous," Bill replied airily. "I think the most credible is that the six of you are bucking to become Aurors directly after your N.E.W.T.s, hoping to place out of the Auror training — or maybe begin it while you’re still at Hogwarts."

"I didn’t even know we could do that," Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

"Normally you can’t, from what I heard," Bill agreed. "Though there might be exceptions made for special circumstances."

"I wasn’t even thinking about becoming an Auror," Harry admitted.

"What do you want to do after you finish school?" Molly asked gently.

Harry looked up, brow knitted in confusion. "Honestly, I haven’t been making many long-term plans," he finally said. "Not until Voldemort is gone."

That seemed to bother the matronly woman more than Harry thought it should.

"Anyway," Bill continued after a moment, "what you’ve told me fits with all the information I’ve gathered on my own, and everyone else here seems to accept it. I gather, with all the talk of magical oaths that you’ve given them one or two to back up what you are saying?"

Harry nodded. "I’ll include you as well," he said, reaching for his wand.

"Don’t worry about it," Bill answered quickly. "If my family accepts it, that’s good enough for me. Magical oaths aren’t something to bandy about too lightly — but you’ll have one from me before we leave."

"Fair enough," Harry replied.

"I do have one question though," Bill added. "To satisfy my own morbid curiosity. I gather that none of us survived, but can you tell me what happened to me in this future of yours?"

Molly gasped. "Bill, you shouldn’t ask him-"

"It’s all right," Harry said quickly. "If he wants to know…"

Bill shrugged. "Might keep me from making the same stupid mistake twice around."

"I wasn’t there, mind you," Harry began, "but word was brought back after the raid. In one of the most successful operations our side conducted in the war, you were one of the few casualties."

"Ah," Bill said disappointed. "But no details as to how I snuffed it?" he asked, ignoring the horrified glare from his mother.

Oddly enough, recalling his memories of that time weren’t as painful as Harry had anticipated. On the other hand, the details were a little fuzzy as well. "I believe they said you’d overloaded your magical core initiating a seven-point cascading field collapse."

Bill’s mouth dropped open. "A seven-?" he gasped. "But how? Why?"

Harry shook his head. "As I said, I don’t have the details. I think you were a little rushed for time, you only had but one night before someone inside Durmstrang might have noticed you and the rest of the raiders."

Bill slumped back in his chair. "Durmstrang? In a night?" he asked after a moment, his tone one of numbed wonder. "I wish we’d ordered some Firewhiskey," he added after a moment.

OoOoO

By the end of the meal, Bill and his father had ironed out some tentative plans. Much of it involved code phrases that could be inserted into innocent-appearing correspondence. As he listened to Arthur outline the fairly complex system, Harry grew more and more impressed. He’d never known exactly what roles the man had played within the Order of the Phoenix during the first war, but he had a better idea now.

It was dark by the time they were finished, so Madam Rosmerta allowed them to use her Floo to travel directly back to the castle. After a few last minute admonitions from Mrs. Weasley, Percy led them back through the green fires to the Gryffindor common room. Harry mostly ignored the questioning looks of his house-mates, his mind occupied with the thick sheaf of parchment he clutched in his left hand.

As Bill and Mr. Weasley made their arrangements, Mrs. Weasley had pulled him aside, guiding him away from the table.

"Your godfather misses you quite a bit," she said softly as she handed him the bulging letter. "He’s been an ideal guest, but I can tell he’s counting the days until the end of the term. He didn’t want to risk owling you, since he was afraid it might be traced back to The Burrow. Instead he’s been poring over some nasty-looking books I think he liberated from his family’s library." She pursed her lips for a moment. "I’ll see if I can’t find an excuse to visit again in a week or so. I imagine he’d love to hear from you and I’ll be more than happy to act as a go-between."

Harry wasn’t too dense to recognize a politely-worded order when he heard one.

As he ascended the stairs to his room, he pondered the unexpected affability he sensed between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. They certainly hadn’t got along this well when they’d been staying at Grimmauld Place in the prior time-line.

Of course, both of them had hated being there. Molly was far more comfortable playing the host than being a guest, and Sirius disliked any reminders of his estranged family. As Harry recalled, they’d both been under considerable stress at the time. The Burrow was a far more congenial setting for both of them, leading Harry to wonder how much of their original friction was simply due to circumstances.

On the other hand, Harry remembered that he himself had been a major point of tension between the two of them. But thinking back, Harry recalled the gratitude that Sirius had displayed towards Mr. Weasley at Azkaban when he’d learned they’d become Harry’s legal guardians after that mess with the Dursleys. Considering the alternative would likely have been Lucius Malfoy, it would definitely reduce any resentment over boundaries and roles in Harry’s life.

It also didn’t hurt that Harry himself didn’t need as much adult guidance and support. At least, not as much as he remembered needing in the original timeline. The relationship between himself and Sirius was more than slightly muddled. It ranged between ‘favourite uncle’ and ‘insane friend’, often over the course of a single conversation. Trying to calculate their relative maturities, taking into account imprisonments and time travel, was little more than an exercise in frustration.

From one point of view, Harry was roughly the same age as Sirius. He just didn’t feel like it most of the time. The whole thing was awkward and confusing in the extreme, especially when dealing with his friends. He rather wished that other Harry Potter had considered all that before taking such drastic steps.

Harry sighed and sat down on his bed. Was he talking about himself in third person just then? Or did they both really have separate existences? Could that even be determined? Was he likely to go mad before or after he dealt with Voldemort?

Worrying about the possibilities of "before" occupied his mind so thoroughly that he barely noticed the door opening. But it was impossible to ignore Fred and George — especially when they sat down on his bed on either side of him. Both draped a companionable arm across his shoulders before they spoke, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how that prevented him from standing up without doing something elaborate.

"So, Harry," Fred began, "we couldn’t help but notice that you knew a fair bit of detail about what happed to Bill in this future of yours."

Harry gave him a hard look.

"We’ve already secured the door," George assured him. "This isn’t the first time we’ve had a discussion we didn’t want overheard."

"We’re even more careful with your secrets than our own," Fred continued loftily. "Now spill."

Harry sighed. He should have seen this coming. "It was a massive Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley. More than half the place was levelled in the fighting, but it was a pyrrhic victory for Voldemort because he lost so many men."

"Were we fighting with the Aurors?" George asked in a serious tone, one that seemed almost alien coming from him or his brother.

"No, you were trapped when the Anti-Apparition wards went up," Harry explained. "The building you were defending became the focal point as the attack bogged down. When it exploded, the Death Eaters attacking it were decimated."

"Why were we so intent on defending one building?" Fred asked curiously.

Harry sighed. There wasn’t any way around it now - they’d hound him mercilessly if they thought he was leaving something out. "Probably because it was your shop," he said.

"Our… shop?" George asked.

"Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes," Harry clarified. "One of the finest joke shops in Wizarding Britain."

"That’s why you knew about our plans at New Years!" George exclaimed. "We actually bloody did it!"

With that, both boys gave Harry a squeeze that wrung the air from his lungs. Before he’d had a chance to catch his breath, they were up and dancing a merry jig. George waved his wand and the door sprang open. Harry was just starting to stand up when they burst out onto the stairwell, continuing their ridiculous victory dance, unmindful of the broken bones they risked.

Harry started to call after them but stopped. What was the use? He sat back down, prodding his now-tender ribs. "Mental," he muttered, "the both of them."

OoOoO

Harry coughed as a cloud of rock dust wafted in his direction. Professor Lupin waved his wand and a sharp breeze dispersed the fumes. The granite block the professor had conjured was little more than a mound of fine gravel after Harry’s Reducto. He nodded in satisfaction.

After their first few sessions within the castle had been interrupted, Professor Lupin suggested they move them outside to avoid interruptions. Harry was more than happy to agree. He’d been a little leery of really cutting loose inside the castle. Aside from the multitude of curious eyes and ears, he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen.

The magnitude of even his most casually cast spells had increased steadily since his first year. While that was normal for most Hogwarts’ students, the degree to which this was occurring for Harry was a little frightening. The amount of power he could summon up when he really tried was another matter entirely. Evidently the magic of his future self was still being assimilated.

Of course, that damn Patronus of his had blown things open for those with the knowledge to understand. Remus had questioned him rather closely about that in their first private session after Harry left the hospital wing.

Harry quite truthfully told him that he and his friends were practicing the spell on their own, as they didn’t trust the creatures or the Ministry’s promises to keep them under control. The revulsion in Harry’s voice as he mentioned the extreme effect they had on him wasn’t feigned in the slightest.

So that led them to a clearing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, gauging exactly how much force Harry could generate. Professor Lupin stared at the pile of gravel for a moment before shaking his head. "I think we need to try something a little different," he said after a moment. "Harry, I’d like you to take a moment to prepare yourself. Think about the things that make you angry and consciously try to focus your energy on your wand. Keep doing that until you don’t feel like you can build up anymore, then cast at the ground." He pointed to a small lump of rock, no doubt a mostly-buried boulder. "Try to cast Reducto with as much force as you can."

Harry followed these instructions, wondering what Professor Lupin was playing at. Hunkering down behind his Occlumency barriers, Harry began to replay the worst memories of the war. Though time and forgetfulness might have blurred a few, more recent ones bolstered his rage. Learning about his parents from Hagrid, he and his friends discovering Ginny lying in the Chamber, Melissa’s death and the knowledge that he’d killed her as surely as if he’d wielded the knife himself. Through this, his wand began to quiver in his hand, slowly growing warm, then hot.

Finally, feeling like he was about to burst, Harry raised his wand and brought it down in a slashing motion. "Reducto!" he growled, and only when he tried to speak did he realize that his face was contorted into a rictus of fury.

A solid red bar of light exploded from his wand, striking the ground where he’d aimed with a detonation that blew him backwards off of his feet. Fortunately, he bounced when he struck the ground, and realized that Professor Lupin had cast a cushioning charm or three while he’d been focusing his rage. Harry awkwardly rolled into a crouch and looked up.

The rock was gone, as was the ground around it and below it. In their place was the beginning of a yard-wide trench gouged out of the earth for over ten feet. It angled deeper the farther it went, but Harry’s attention was drawn to his hand as the pain began to register.

He dropped his wand with a hiss, blowing on his throbbing palm and fingers. The grass seemed to curl away from the scorching-hot wood. Harry barely noticed when Professor Lupin cast a Cooling Charm on his hand, but let out a sigh of relief as the burning sensation eased. "Hot," was all he could say as he got his breath back.

The man’s face was troubled when Harry looked up. "Sorry, Harry, but I didn’t anticipate something like that happening. Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey so she can make sure no damage was done. I’m going to have to owl Ollivander and see if he’s ever heard of such a thing."

Harry nodded dumbly as he stood up, and then stooped to pick up his wand. He initially touched it very gingerly with the fingertips of his left hand, but the unnatural heat had mostly dissipated.

On the way to the hospital wing, Harry asked Professor Lupin for a favour. "I know the NEWT-level Defence classes will be covering it, but would you mind coming to a meeting of the Duelling Association and talking about the Patronus Charm?"

That seemed to take the professor somewhat aback. "I thought you mostly ran those meetings?" he asked.

"With a lot of help," Harry replied. "Besides, this is a pretty advanced spell."

"You seem to do all right at it," Lupin replied with a grin. The aging Marauder’s sense of humour was a bit more… restrained… than that of Sirius Black, but it was all the more effective for its subtlety.

"But you are the one who taught me," Harry shot back. His words were true, just not quite in the way his audience would interpret them. "Besides, this… aptitude… I have may have made it easier for me. You’d probably do a better job explaining it to someone who doesn’t have so much excess energy."

Lupin gave him a shrewd look. "You’ve really thought this through then. I thought you just didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself. But what I still don’t understand is why you even want to cover this in the Duelling Association. It’s not likely that they’ll use it in a duel, and with the new wards there will be no repeats of what happened at your Quidditch match."

"But what about Hogsmeade weekends?" Harry countered. "Two-thirds of the school will be outside the wards the next time we have one. Unless they are all cancelled?"

Remus sighed. "I think the Headmaster considered it, but with the Ministry’s promises, most would think that was going too far."

"Then it would probably be a good idea if more than a couple of people out there knew how to repel them, wouldn’t it?" Harry asked.

"You make a convincing argument, Harry," Professor Lupin said as they made their way into the courtyard. "When is the next meeting scheduled?"

OoOoO

The short, round-shouldered man carefully adjusted his clothing as he approached the pub. The garments weren’t particularly comfortable, but they would serve their purpose. While doing this, he carefully reviewed his instructions. While the inhabitants of the pub were all Muggles, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be dangerous… especially since these particular Muggles were no strangers to violence.

Still, the story he’d been given would attract their interest, and hopefully establish his credentials as sympathetic to their cause. His imagination refused to consider what might happen if his master’s information was wrong. The immediate consequences of failure might be even more painful than displeasing the one he served.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door.

Life had been much simpler as a rat.

OoOoO

Dear Sirius,

I was pleasantly surprised to get your letter. I can appreciate why we need to be discreet, but it never occurred to me to go through Mrs. Weasley. I supposed the old Marauder still has a few tricks left to show.

I suppose you heard in the press and from the Weasleys what happened at the match. My broom is wrecked, but I still have the 2001 the Nimbus company donated to the team. The worst part is what happened after I was knocked out. What happened to Melissa Bulstrode wasn’t an accident. She was murdered, and I suppose it’s really my fault…