The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Chapter Twenty-One
Harry tracked down Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room intending to tell them all about his recent adventure. However, they were among a crowd of other seventh years grouped around a new notice on the bulletin board. Senior Trip to Ministry of Magic was the headline of the poster and below was a list of various departments with the list of student names selected for the tour.
"Look at this," Seamus said. "Due to the demand for jobs at the Ministry and our selective process, students have been pre-screened according to their previous performances on OWLs and according to their projected scores for NEWT subjects. Although we have tried to accomodate students' first requests, only students who have been pre-screened as potential hirees will be selected for department tours."
"That stinks," Dean Thomas said. "How do they know what we'll do on our NEWTs? That means they're going only by our OWLs really?"
"Or who you know," Parvait commented sourly.
"You've been spending too much time with Draco Malfoy," Ron said. But Harry noticed his voice was too emphatic. Harry waited until the others had seen which departments they were to tour before looking for his own name on the poster. For a moment, he was afraid to look, especially after Fudge's attempt to pull him out of school that very morning. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his name on the list for Department of Magical Law Enforcement under Aurors. He had been so sure that Fudge would make sure he wouldn't be hired there at all. At least he had a chance.
"How many tours did you sign up for?" Neville asked casually.
"Just two," Harry said. He looked for his name under the other department he had selected, the Department of Mysteries and then he noticed that his name was down under every single department, even though he'd only signed up for two.
"Is this a joke?" he asked. He looked around at the others trying to figure out who would have added his name to all of those other departments. If Fred and George had still been at school, he would have assumed they had done it.
"Who did that?" he asked, feeling not only puzzled, but also a bit angry. How was he to tell now whether he'd actually been selected to tour any of the departments he really wanted?
"Who did what?" Neville responded.
"Put my name in like that--on every list," Harry said. "I didn't apply for every department like that." Everyone else looked at him and Hermione moved up to look at the lists again.
"No one could have done that," she said quietly. "Professor McGonagall put that up herself just a few minutes ago. It can't have been tampered with."
"But I didn't apply for all those departments," Harry said more vehemently. "I couldn't even possibly go on all those tours. They only allow two per student."
"Well, it's obvious," Dean replied. "You're Harry Potter. Every department wants you even if you didn't apply."Harry could feel the heat rising from his toes to his nose. He knew perfectly well that everyone there was just as good as he was in many subjects and probably better in some.
He said as calmly as he could, "Anyone have a quill?" and when Hermione placed one in his hand, he went through and struck his name from every list for every department he hadn't applied for. Then he looked at the lists again and saw that under the auror's department, only three others were listed: Ron, Hermione and Neville. He looked at the Department of Mysteries and saw that Ron and Hermione and Parvati and Lavender were listed for that.
"How come so few are listed for the auror department?" he asked.
"Probably cause you're the only ones crazy enough to apply right now," Seamus answered hurmorously. "I mean, who'd want to be in that department when their assignment'll be to chase Death Eaters?"
Harry gave Seamus a quick look to see if he was serious. He had not forgotten that Seamus had believed he was mad or seeking attention during their fifth year when the Daily Prophet had published all those stories about him. But he saw from Seamus's eyes that he wasn't thinking that at all. He also noticed that the atmosphere in the room had cheered up now that he had taken his name off all those lists. Harry sank into one of the chairs near the fire and saw that Ron was looking very thoughtful.
"I wonder...," Ron said.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Well," Ron said, with a sidelong glance at Harry, "I wonder why they're letting us tour the Department of Mysteries. After, well, you know..."
"I dunno," Harry said. "Maybe they just need people. That chap Bode who worked there was murdered, remember. Maybe they never replaced him." He turned and looked at Hermione, who was knitting something new -a sweater, perhaps?
"What about you?" Harry asked. "You don't even take Divination. How come you put your name down for that?"
Hermione simply gave Harry a look out of narrowed eyes and answered, "They want people who do Runes and Artihmancy as well. I thought it might be interesting to find out what some of the things are there."
Harry grinned slightly. "That's why I put my name down, too." He relaxed back into the chair and stared into the fire. Fatigue pulled at him and he thought he ought to do some homework, but couldn't summon up the energy to go get his books.
He could feel Ron and Hermione watching him and after a brief moment, Hermione said hesitantly, "Harry, did Dumbledore really stun you yesterday to keep you going into Hogsmeade?"
After checking to see that no one else was listening, Harry answered, "Actually, Snape did it. But Dumbledore wanted me out of it." Harry hesitated and then said resentfully, "He thinks I'm not up to fighting right now. He seems to think I'm in poor health, or delicate or something." He glared at Hermione and Ron and said, "Which I'm not."
"Erm, no," Hermione said. "But how come you didn't come out sooner?" Harry cut off his first thought before replying. He wasn't about to tell Ron and Hermione about the episode in the Headmaster's office. Instead he settled for half the truth.
"Snape was a bit more enthusiastic than Dumbledore intended I expect. I was out for two hours. And I bet he loved every bit of it." Harry had expected them to take the bait and go off on Snape.
However, Ron said slowly, "Stunning spells don't leave you unconscious that long normally. They could have woken you much quicker if they'd wanted to, too."
"Yeah," Harry said, "but they wanted me out of the way." He could not keep the annoyance out of his voice. And then he added more soberly, "I guess they thought if I showed up that the others would summon Voldemort and he'd turn me into an afternoon snack for his pet snake."
"About right, too," Ron said. Harry glared at him, feeling not a little betrayed. "You look like hell," Ron said bluntly. "I expect Dumbleodre wants you to have half a chance of surviving if you do have to fight Voldemort again."
"I'm fine," Harry said stiffly.
"Are you?" Ron asked. "Judging from the sounds of your nightmares, you weren't sleeping too well. And you hardly eat lately. It's probably a good thing quidditch practice is off cause of the ice, cause I'm afraid you'll fall off your broom you look so ill some days." Harry stared at Ron furiously. Ron did not back down, though.
"You can be as mad as you like, Harry. I'm not trying to insult you or anything. I think you just need to take it easy for a while. Hermione agrees, too."
"We're just worried about you," Hermione added.
"I'm fine," Harry repeated, but even to his own ears the words lacked something.
Despite Harry's assurances that he was fine, Hermione and Ron watched him anxiously for the remainder of the day. Hermione persuaded them to work on their latest essay for Potions, but she could see that Harry was not getting very far with his. Every sentence or so, he would look up and watch the ice falling outside the window or stare into the fire. She was certain he had kept something from them about the previous day's incident.
By the end of the day, Ron pulled her aside and said quietly, "One of us is going to have to watch him. He's getting that look again, and I bet he won't sleep tonight."
"I'll stay up tonight," Hermione said. "You've watched him the five nights in a row."
Ron frowned and said, "Yeah. Well, it's easier for me cause I can follow him into the dormitory." He scowled further and added, "and you're not coming up to the boy's dorm at night."
"I wasn't going to," she said primly.
"Ha," Ron said. "You know you would if you thought you had to."
She glared back at him and said, "Never mind that. I'll make sure he gets some sleep tonight even if I have to charm him and lock him up somewhere."
"Oh," Ron said. "And where would you lock him up? And just what makes you think you'll get a spell off fast enough?" Hermione considered Ron's skeptical face.
"How about the Room of Requirement," she said softly. "No one will bother him there and if I do this right, I'll get his cooperation."
"How?" Ron asked.
"I'll think of something," she said.
"Good luck," Ron said. He yawned widely and ambled upstairs.
It was close to one in the morning before the common room had cleared out completely-- except for Harry and Hermione. Harry had given up staring at the fire and taken to pacing the common room again; something he hadn't done for weeks. After the twelfth circuit, from the window to stare at the falling sleet to the chair by the fire and back again to the window, Hermione had enough.
"Aren't you going to sleep at all tonight?" she asked. Harry stared at her in surprise as if he had forgotten she was there and said, "I'm not tired."
He focused on her more directly and said, "Why are you up anyway? You should go on up."
"Not until you go up and I know you go to sleep," she answered firmly.
"I don't need a babysitter," he answered.
"It's my job," Hermione retorted. "As headgirl I'm supposed to keep track of the other students. And don't bother telling me you're not tired, Harry. You've got circles under your eyes an elf could swim in." He gave her a look that was part resentment and part sheepishness and part desperation.
"I can't sleep," he said finally. "He's too close tonight. I can feel him, like he's just on the other side of that window, waiting for the smallest crack to break in."
"What if..." Hermione said tentatively. Then she plucked up her nerve and said, "what if I could get you a night's sleep without any dreams and without Voldemort being able to get at you? Would you listen to me? Would you do what I say?" Harry looked at her and she saw both dread and desire spark in his eyes.
"I'm not taking any potions," he said flatly.
"Not a potion," she answered. Then she rushed on, hoping that if she didn't give him time to think, he'd give in. "Come with me," she said. She pulled at his arm and led him out of the portrait hole, not listening to his half-hearted protests.
"Filch will catch us," he hissed at her. "You should have let me get my invisiblity cloak."
"I'm headgirl," she said calmly. "I'm on patrol and I've made you my assistant for the night."
"Right," he answered. "And Filch is a lonely misunderstood old man and not just and evil sadistic git."
They had arrived at the Room of Requirement and she paced back and forth before it three times. Harry looked at her a bit wildly, as if he would run, but she tugged at him when the door appeared and drew him inside.
"Hermione," he said, "what's this all about?"
"Just hold still," she said, "and you'll see. If you don't like it, you can just shake your head no after and I'll reverse the spell."
"Hermione..." he protested, but she had determined she would have to be totally ruthless in order to do him any good. She waved her wand and said the animagus spell and saw with a terrified pleasure that he had transformed once again into the great red bird. The bird tipped its head at her and its emerald green eyes shone happily at her. He hopped and flapped his wings and then lofted onto the perch that was prepared for him. With a soft trill he tucked his head under his wing and was asleep in seconds.
"I'll be back in the morning to wake you," she whispered, but the sleeping bird made no answer. Wiping the moisture off her cheeks, Hermione slipped back to the Gryffindor dormitory thinking that next time she would suggest he bring the Invisibility Cloak. It had occurred to her that no one should know about this. No one at all.
Hermione slipped back out of the dormitory as the morning broke. Another dark day, the only difference between night and morning being a lessening in the gloom from black to a leaden gray. In the Room of Requirement, the bird was still sleeping on his perch, his head tucked under his wing. Hermione hesitated before waking him, but she knew that this secret would be unveiled if she failed to wake Harry and transform him back in time for him to return to the Gryffindor Tower before the others awakened. As if he felt her presence, the bird lifted his head out his wing and blinked his emerald eyes sleepily.
She held out her hand and said, "Sorry to wake you, Harry, but we don't want Filch catching you." He floated down to the floor and she quickly spoke the spell to transform him back. Like a film going backwards in slow motion, the transformation unwound and Harry stood before her staring at her accusingly.
"When did you learn to do that?" he asked.
She gave him The Look and said, "Never mind that right now. We need to get back before we're caught."
She walked briskly back out of the door, but as she went, she looked him over anxiously and saw with relief that his face had lost some of the worst edge of fatigue and he had regained much of his normal color.
"You did rest?" she asked.
"Yes," he said more quietly. She could see he was consumed with curiosity, but he said instead, "Thanks, Hermione. I don't know how much longer I could have gone on like that."
"Will you tell me if things get really bad again?" she asked. "Do you think that will keep you for a few days, or..."
"I dunno," he answered. He paused at the Fat Lady's portrait and said, "I never know what the day will be like, but mostly, I do know that the nights will be bad. The only question is how bad."
He stepped through the portrait hole as the Fat Lady said with a large yawn, "Don't you ever sleep?"
Harry glared at the picture and said, "Not if I can help it."
Hermione followed him in and saw gratefully that no one was up yet.
Harry rounded on her and asked again, "When did you learn the animagus spell? Who taught you? And how come no one taught me?"
"I asked to learn it," Hermione aid very quietly, "and I expect no one taught you because you didn't ask." Seeing the still resentful look on his face, she added, "And I expect they'd refuse if you did. They're afraid you're going to bolt and get yourself killed challenging Voldemort as it is. I'm sure they think the animagus spell will just make that easier for you."
His mouth tightened stubbornly and he said, "You are going to teach me that, aren't you?"
She didn't answer, not knowing what to say.
"Hermione," he said. "Don't make me beg. That's the first proper night's sleep I've had in months."
"I know," she said. "Why do you think I asked to learn? I heard you tell McGonagall last summer."
He blinked in surprise and said, "I'd forgotten you were there."
"Under the circumstances," she muttered, "that's a good thing." He glared at her again and she felt compelled to add," McGonagall made me promise I wouldn't teach you and Ron. I told her it was just for me."
She saw that he was looking quite desperate again and continued, "I can do the spell for you again tonight. I can do it every night for a week if you want. Or for two weeks. Or three."
How was it, she wondered, that so much could show in one person's eyes? He must have thought his face showed nothing, but she could see it there in his eyes, the anger, the fear, the relief. And she knew without asking that he must be at the very brink of breaking if he had admitted how bad things were to her.
It was that, perhaps, that impelled her to add, "It's not breaking my word if you learn on your own by watching me and having the spell done on you." She thought, I shouldn't have done that, but it was impossible to regret it all the same as his eyes shone with sudden hope and he did something he had never done before.
"You're the best, Hermione," he said and he kissed her lightly on the cheek before running up the spiral staircase two at a time.
Potions class that Monday morning was like every other Harry had ever been to, with one extraordinary exception. Like every other class, Harry handed in his essay and as in so many others, Snape returned the essay to him marked up with a large D on the top before the class had ended. Snape hovered over Harry’s cauldron making critical comments in a clear voice, so that every other student in the class could hear.
But that was nothing new. Nor was the extra homework assignment he was given. The truly extraordinary event was that Draco Malfoy received exactly the same treatment.
By the end of the lesson, Malfoy was white with anger and humiliation. And when Snape assigned him the extra homework along with Harry –write a foot long essay on the Potions for Inducing Calm and Obedience –Malfoy was heard to say out loud, “Going to report me to my father? Going to tell all your fellow vassals about how you punished me for disobeying my **** father?”
The rest of the class stared at Malfoy in much the same manner as they had often stared at Harry, with fascination and mostly revulsion. Harry tried to feel sympathy for Malfoy and found he was unable to. In fact, though he knew it was entirely foul of him, he felt nothing but pleasure at seeing his rival humiliated in the same fashion as he had been so often. And he knew, as he was certain Malfoy did not, that Snape could not afford to pretend sympathy for anyone who thwarted a Death Eater; not even when it was done as a personal rebellion against his father and not against Voldemort himself.
Snape didn’t even bother to reply. He merely swept his former favorite with a glance of annoyance nearly as nasty as the one with which he then favored Harry. Feeling that a smile of sympathy would be utterly out of order and would violate the rules of the game, Harry glared back at Snape ferociously but also said nothing. He was not going so far as to invite detention on top of extra homework.
At the end of class, Malfoy gathered his books up and slammed out muttering something about, “At least the Weasleys had style,” and maybe he’d be following their example.
“Do you think we ought to go after him?” Neville asked Harry. Harry shook his head. He knew all too well that the last thing Malfoy would want was sympathy from a Gryffindor. As he left, he could feel Snape’s eyes boring into his back, and he wondered what new grudge the Potions Master had to chew on.
Transfiguration was only an improvement in that Professor McGonagall didn’t glare at him with loathing or snap critical remarks at him to disturb his concentration. However, Harry’s attempts at conjuring were entirely useless. Hermione had successfully conjured a pair of socks out of nowhere on her first try. Harry had been unsuccessful on his fifth and was thinking that Malfoy had a point about doing a Weasley. Though he had slept more the previous night than he had in months, he still felt weary beyond words.
Fatigue sapped his concentration and will; nor could he care very much. What good were passing grades when you didn’t expect to have anywhere to go? He had paced the common room the night before trying to find comfort in the listing of his name under every Ministry Department. But the first flush of pleasure at being selected had dimmed when he realized he was listed only for his fame and not for any real achievements of his own. And then there was the lurking anxiety that had risen after Fudge’s visit.
He knew that the Minister didn’t want him for the job he actually wanted. No, he thought, what Fudge wanted was to deliver him to the Muggle’s secret ministry as a bribe for leaving the wizard community alone. And, he thought gloomily, it was only a matter of time before Fudge did just that. If, of course, Harry could survive Voldemort’s next attack.
Harry forced himself to eat lunch and kept his eyes glued to his plate when Malfoy passed by. It was an effort not to shove the unpleasantness and humiliation of lost popularity right down Malfoy’s throat. Ron echoed his own feelings when he said softly, “It’s pathetic really, but I can’t feel sorry for the evil git. It’s just what he deserves, isn’t it?”
Harry nodded and gulped down his coffee. He blinked and rubbed his eyes trying to force some clarity into his brain for their next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. He found, when he entered, that the subject was one worth the effort.
“Today,” Tonks said, “we’ll be starting on a very difficult group of spells. Some people consider these to belong properly to Transfiguration, others to Charms. However you view them, Invisibility Spells are incredibly useful and dead difficult to do.”
She grinned cheerfully as everyone snapped to attention and added, “So don’t be discouraged if it takes a while to learn them. Lots of wizards never master invisibility spells. Not that it matters if you don’t have a need for Stealth or Concealment.”
Tonks lined them up and said, “I’ve brought a few small animals for you to practice on. Putting a full Invisibility Spell on yourself is a project we’ll be working on, but no one is to try on himself or on another person yet.” She brought out a few frogs and had them go at the spell in groups. No one was successful the first time.
“All right,” Tonks said. “Take a break. Now, who can tell me what actually happens when something is invisible?”
Seamus raised his hand and said. “It disappears.”
“That’s not quite right,” Harry said.
“That’s correct,” Tonks said. “What’s wrong with that answer?” Harry thought and said carefully,
“The thing that’s invisible is still there. It doesn’t vanish. It’s just that it can’t be seen.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Tonks said. “Now, can you tell me why the invisible thing can’t be seen?” Harry thought and thought.
“It’s like, you’re in shadow when everything else isn’t?” He thought that wasn’t quite right, but it was the closest thing he could think of to explain what he felt when he put on his cloak.
“That’s a good comparison,” Tonks said. “Does anyone else have an idea?”
Hermione raised her hand and offered, “In order to see something you have to have light. Invisibility spells turn light away from the thing so that it simply can’t be seen.”
Harry looked at Hermione and said, “That is bloody brilliant. That’s exactly what it is. The spell bends the light away from the object…doesn’t it, erm, Professor Tonks?”
Tonks looked at them with delight and said, “I wish my teacher had explained it that way when I was learning it. That’s a great way of explaining it. Try it again.”
Harry attacked the spell again with renewed determination and this time, he managed to make his frog fade, though it didn’t go invisible altogether. At the end of the class, he was the only one to have progressed that far. Even Hermione had not, though she had clearly understood what needed to be done. Harry lingered behind the others feeling an upsurge in his spirits. School wasn’t so bad, he reminded himself. And there were still lots of useful things to learn. Hermione was looking quite discouraged.
Harry supposed it was because she was used to succeeding right away and he was surprised when Tonks said, “Don’t feel bad if you don’t get it right away. It’s like I told you, these spells are the very devil to do. And they take quite a lot of sheer power. Even the very cleverest witches and wizards don’t get them all the time.”
Tonks glanced about to see that everyone else had left besides Harry and Ron and Hermione and she added grinning, “I still can’t do them. Why do you think I didn’t bother demonstrating?”
Hermione didn’t look much happier, but as they parted for their next class, she said thoughtfully, “It makes you wonder just what Fred and George could do if they really wanted to, doesn’t it?”
Harry grinned, remembering their invisibility hats that had made one’s head disappear, and said, “Create even more trouble?”
Ron grinned back and said, “You notice she didn’t say she wondered what you could do if you put your mind to it.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Come on,” he said, “I just had an advantage ‘cause I’ve got a cloak so I get the idea how it works.”
***
Feeling very frustrated about her failure at the Invisibility Spell, Hermione coaxed Ron and Harry into practicing with her after dinner in the Room of Requirement. She was pleased to see that Harry was in better spirits, though whether it was as a result of his having slept the previous night or because of his interest in the Invisibility Spell she couldn't tell.
"This place is the best place in Hogwarts," she exclaimed upon seeing a stack of books on Invisibility ready for reading on a comfortable couch. She immediately opened the top book and started perusing the table of contents.
"Are you going to read, Hermione?" Ron asked, "or are you going to practice?"
"Both," she snapped. "And don't annoy me or I might decide to practice on you." To her satisfaction, Ron paled just a little; to her annoyance,
Harry grinned. "Why don't we practice on those balls over there," Harry suggested. He picked up a round ball that was just a bit smaller than a quaffle and tossed it in the air and caught it. Then he pitched it to Ron who tossed it back.
"Too bad," Harry went on wistfully, "this room couldn't be a quidditch practice pitch."
"You're a genius, Harry," Ron said. "This is the Room of Requirement. I bet if we went back out and walked in front of it three times wishing hard enough, it would turn into a quidditch pitch."
"I dunno," Harry answered. "There are limits to magic, aren't there? How could a quidditch pitch fit inside a room in the Castle when even the Great Hall isn't big enough for that?"
"Why don't we try it right now?" Ron said.
"Because," Hermione cut in, "we're here to practice invisibility spells." And practice invisibility spells were just what they did.
By the end of the evening, Harry had made his ball entirely translucent, but not quite invisible. Hermione was encouraged to see that hers was fading slightly, like a ghost that wasn't sure it was altogether dead. And Ron, too, had gotten to the point of fading his, but Hermione had a feeling he was impeded by his obsession with quidditch.
"If you'd just stop thinking about catching the ball," she said, "you'd have an easier time making it fade."
"And what are you thinking about," Ron asked, "that's getting in the way of your making it go invisible altogether?" From anyone else, the remark would have been truly mean. From Ron, it wasn't mean at all. In fact, he was now giving her a worried look that almost matched the one he normally reserved for Harry.
Her irritation dwindled and she answered, "I'm thinking that one of us has to go round up the first years and get them into the common room, if not up to their dormitories." She looked sidelong at Harry and hoped Ron would get the message. She didn't want Harry knowing that Ron was in on her attempts to get Harry to sleep. And she didn't want Ron knowing just how she had gotten him to sleep. He had assumed that she had used the sleeping charm and she had not corrected him. The small deception gave her a serious twinge of her conscience, but she couldn't break her word to McGonagall and she thought that the fewer people who knew about Harry's transformations, the better off they'd all be.
For once, Ron understood her wishes, if not her thoughts, and he said, "I'll do it," with just the right grumbling tone of grumpiness that Harry didn't look twice at him. As soon as Ron left, Harry waved his wand one more time and his ball disappeared altogether.
"Look at that," he said gleefully. "I did it!"
"Wow," Hermione answered. Then she too waved her wand, but instead of the invisibility spell, she did the animgaus one and in a trice, the tall teen was replaced by the great swan-like bird.
"So did I," she said with satisfaction. When she held out her hand, the bird flew up to rest on her arm momentarily before lofting over to the perch that sat in the corner. She smiled at him and he trilled at her.
"You were brilliant," she said. The bird tipped its head at her and its emerald eyes gleamed. Then he tucked his head, on which the lightning scar could still be seen if you knew what to look for, and was asleep between one breath and another.
They practiced invisbility spells the next night and the next. And on each night, Hermione contrived to put Harry under the animagus spell, and each night he slept and appeared stronger and less haunted. On Thursday night, however, they decided a bit of caution was necessary as Neville had remarked with grave concern that Harry must have given up sleeping altogether.
"I don't see how you're staying awake," Neville said to Harry. "You're the last one up and first one awake in the morning. Did you even go to bed at all last night or are you sleeping in the common room?"
This alone wouldn't have been so bad: it was Dean Thomas' questioning look that moved from Harry to Hermione and from Harry to Ginny-- who was seated at one of the cushiony chairs and looking on--that made her alarmed. Harry must have noticed too, for he carefully did not look at her when he said with apparent artlessness, "I have fallen asleep in here a few times. But not tonight. Studying for NEWTs will just have to take a back seat tonight."
Neville looked relieved and so did Ginny.
Dean simply nodded and said, "You work too hard, mate. Getting all Os on your NEWTs might be nice, but it won't help you if you make yourself too ill to defend yourself...in case...you know?"
Harry stopped and stared at Dean and said abruptly, "You're right."
They were interrupted when Ron came into the common room with a large new poster for the bulletin board.
"McGonagall just gave it to me," he said. "Look, instructions for the Ministry tour." Hermione moved closer so she could read the poster.
"Minstry Tour," she read, "March the first from eleven a.m to one p.m. Bring your wands and be prepared to demonstrate a spell or two upon request." There was a general rustle at that. She waited for a moment and went on, "All students are expected to wear their Hogwarts robes with their House ties. Please assemble at the Great Hall at ten am. Heads of House will act as chaperones and all students are expected to behave in a manner that reflects credit upon this school."
From her chair in the corner, Ginny remarked with annoyance, "I don't see why sixth years can't take the tour as well. Not all Ministry employees finish their NEWTs." But Hermione saw that her gaze wasn't on the poster; it was directed at Harry.
And her eyes were anxious, not envious. She looked at Harry and saw that he had adopted his inscrutable face: The one that left his expression as remote as any stone pharaoh's. And she could not help worrying more when he ascended the spiral stairs shortly after.
***
On the first of March, Harry woke early in his four poster bed and stared at the dull, gray sky through the window. He had been careful not to stay too often in the Room of Requirement after Neville’s and Dean’s comments. The nights he did spend there were small oases in the wilderness, granting him a brief respite so that he was better able to continue on. He wished that he could be just like one of the others sleeping so soundly.
The Ministry would look at them and measure them as they were. He was different and he knew it. Whatever occurred at the tour, no matter how well he might perform a spell if requested, he would be given a job because Fudge said so, or not. He would be placed in whatever department Fudge determined, or not. And he would work in that job; or if Voldemort showed up again soon, maybe not.
Shrugging off his gloomy thoughts, Harry slid out of bed and dressed making sure he shaved the small growth of beard and trying uselessly as ever to flatten his hair and make his fringe cover his scar. Still, no one else was awake, so he went quietly down the spiral stairs and out of the portrait hole. The Great Hall was empty and it was too early for breakfast so he climbed the stairs back up to the library thinking he would look for more books on magical methods of detection.
He wondered if the Ministry would tell them how they knew when people were doing magic if he asked. He returned to the stacks and since Madam Pince was not yet there, he turned impulsively into the Restricted Section and began looking there. After a quarter of an hour, he was hungry and beginning to think longingly of his morning coffee, but he decided he’d check one more aisle before giving up. And there, sitting right in front of him was a large purple leather book entitled Crystals, Mirrors and Magical Detectors.
Harry looked over his shoulder and through the stacks to see if Madam Pince was there. The library was still empty though, and he quickly seized the book and fled back out wishing he had brought his book bag with him. The sound of feet not far away alerted him and he slipped into an empty classroom trying to think how he could avoid being caught. A loud meow started his heart racing. It must be Filch, he thought and Mrs. Norris had caught his scent.
“We’ll see who’s been out of bounds won’t we?” Filch said loudly. “This time Dumbledore’ll have to listen. We’ll have the thief expelled, we will.”
There was only one thing to do, Harry thought, if he didn’t want to be caught. He drew his wand and with a prayer that it would work, he said the Invisibility Spell. The world faded slightly, so that he felt as though he were seeing through a translucent curtain. He nearly shouted aloud in glee at his success and then he realized he had forgotten to do the spell on the book. He waved his wand a second time and the purple book faded out of sight, though he could still feel the weight of it tucked in his arm. Another meow told him that Mrs. Norris was near. Indeed, the cat’s lamp-like eyes peered around the corner of the empty classroom.
Filch stopped right at the doorway and sniffed suspiciously, but he muttered to himself, “Not here. They must have gone the other way.” With a chirrup to Mrs. Norris, who meowed once more, Filch walked off back in the direction of the library. Harry waited a while and then left the room trying to be as silent as he could. He continued on and was amazed to see that no one he passed even realized he was there. He had to flatten himself against the corridor wall several times to escape bumping into other students, but eventually he made it into the Gryffindor common room in time to hear Hermione and Ron having another argument.
“How could you let him sneak out without noticing?” Hermione said angrily.
“Well, he must have left in the middle of the night,” Ron said defensively. “Anyway, he didn’t make any noise. No nightmares, nothing.”
“Well, maybe you were sleeping too soundly to know,” Hermione snapped back. “Maybe he just waited for you to go to sleep and left without sleeping at all.” Harry could not think what to say to stop it and he couldn’t decide whether he was angry or embarrassed or ashamed that his friends were now fighting over him. He snuck back out the portrait hole and waited for the hallway to clear before undoing the invisibility spell.
Then he went back in and pretending he had heard nothing of their argument, he said, “Look what I found.”
Ron and Hermione both jumped and gawped at him and they said at the same time, “Where have you been?”
“Has everyone left?” he asked.
“They’ve all been to breakfast ages ago,” Ron said sourly.
Harry said, “Come on,” and went up the spiral stairs two at a time to his dormitory. Ron followed close on heels and so, after a moment, did Hermione.
“Look at this,” he said showing them the purple book. “I found it in the Restricted Section,” he said softly.
”Ooh,” Hermione said. Her brown eyes were shining with curiosity and he grinned. Ron, however, was still looking annoyed.
“What were you doing going off alone like that in the middle of the night?”
“Don’t be a prat,” Harry said cheerfully. “It wasn’t the middle of the night. I can’t help it if you sleep like a baby till late in the morning.”
With a longing glance at the book, he carefully stowed it in his trunk and said, “We’d better save it for later. We won’t have any time for breakfast otherwise.” Then, knowing that he was irritating both of his friends, he said, “I’m starving, aren’t you?”
At ten o’clock, the seniors going on the Ministry tour were lined up in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick led their respective houses out of the Castle and to the front gates of the school, where the Knight Bus was already waiting. There must have been forty students all told, and Harry was impressed by their discipline. All they lacked, he thought, were swords and armor, and they would be a proper corps ready for action.
They filed into the bus, which was set up with cushy deck chairs in the various house colors. The Gryffindors were up on the top deck, and Harry thought the only thing detracting from the event so far was the weather. It was dreadfully cold and a mist of ice was falling once again. That thought, however, flew out of his mind when he saw that Dumbledore was already on the bus and seated comfortably on one of the red deck chairs. The sight of the headmaster eased the last bit of floating worry he’d had. Surely if Dumbledore were there, Voldemort would stay away.
As if he had read Harry’s thoughts, Dumbledore winked and said, “Why don’t you all be seated, at least to start with, so the bus can leave?”
The conductor, Stan Shunpike, peered into the top deck and said, “All right, Perfessor Dumbledore?”
“All right, indeed,” Dumbledore answered. Stan descended the stairs and in a minute, the bus had taken off with a jerk. Trees jumped to the side as the bus drove and a whole row of shops in Hogsmeade leaned sideways to avoid the bus. Then with a loud crack that threw half the students off their seats, they were wheeling up a quiet London street and pulling up in front of the broken phone booth that was the visitors’ entrance to the Ministry of Magic.
The students lined up in the lobby and each person had his wand checked in by security before it was returned. Harry was almost certain the man was the same one who had checked his wand when he’d been there the previous time for his hearing on underage use of magic. Ron went through the line before him, and the guard returned Ron’s wand with a bored, “Fourteen inches, willow, with the hair of a unicorn,” before waving him on to say, “Next.”
Harry laid his wand on the scale, which burped out a slip with his own wand’s description. “Eleven inches, holly, with phoenix feather core,” the guard continued in the same bored tone. Then he did looked again and gawped at Harry and stared at his scar until Harry held out his hand for his wand.
The guard handed back the wand with a shaking hand and said as Harry passed through, “Blimey. Gave me a right start, havin’ the Boy Who Lived come through.”
“He doesn’t bite,” Hermione said with barely suppressed amusement as the guard automatically read her slip, “Mahogany, ten and three-quarter inches, dragon-heartstring.”
“And his name is Harry,” Hermione added. The guard merely gave her a look of such distress that Harry ceased being amused and wanted to shake the fellow. It was only the thought of the headlines in the next day’s Daily Prophet that restrained him.
“Some people are dead ignorant,” was Ron’s comment as he clapped Harry on the back and nudged him over to where Professor McGonagall was waiting. It took a few minutes for all of the students to go through security, but they were shortly lined up in their respective Houses again with Dumbledore and the four Heads in front.
Fudge arrived with a group of Ministry wizards and said heartily, “Dumbledore, good to see you and such a promising group of students, too!”
The other wizards stepped forward and began to call out their departments and the names of the students who were to take the first tour. Harry did not recognize the wizard who came for their tour of the auror department. But Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville followed the auror, who was a fierce looking man with a turban named Rashid, into one of the elevators. At the last moment, Dumbledore stepped into their elevator as well.
The elevator whisked them to Level Two, the same floor on which Mr. Weasley had his office, and they followed Rashid to the auror’s area, which had a number of cubicles backing up on each other. Harry couldn’t help noticing that several cubicles were vacant and he saw with a start that the one that had been Kingsley Shacklebolt’s was one of them. An old picture of Sirius was still hanging on the cubicle wall, which made his throat feel uncomfortably tight. Rashid introduced them by name to the other aurors, who had come over to assist.
Harry was both gratified and embarrassed when the mutter went around at his name, “Potter! We’ve got Potter?”
“As you know,” Rashid said, “application requirements for our department are very stiff. We’ll require NEWT level passes in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts. There are many years where we have turned applicants away, even with the minimum requirements. This year--” He stopped and gave a small cough, “—this year, we will be looking particularly for those who have excellent abilities in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
He cast a fleeting glance at Harry and said soberly, “I need not tell you the present threat which we are battling, and I hope you lot are up to our minimum standards, because we need good people quite badly.”
“I’ll take over from here, Rashid,” a strong voice interrupted. Harry turned and saw a woman with gray hair, a square face, and brilliant gray eyes, one of which was enlarged by a monocle step forward. “I am Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”
Dumbledore smiled and stepped forward to shake hands with her, and to exchange a soft whispered greeting, which Harry could not hear.
The Assistant Minister said calmly, “As you see, there’s not much here to tour, as most of our auror operations take place off site. If you are selected for further consideration and eventually placed here, you would be assigned a desk and entered into our training program. Auror training usually takes three years to complete, depending on the candidate’s aptitude and prior level of accomplishment. I understand from Professor Dumbledore that your class has been fortunate enough to receive training from some of our best.”
Harry looked at Ron, who said without a sound, “Lockhart? Umbridge?” Harry would have answered, Lupin –though he wasn’t an auror, Moody – though he’d really been Barty Crouch, Jr and a Death Eater; and Bill, who was a curse breaker and not an auror. But the Assistant Minister had continued.
“I’m going to ask each of you to perform a few spells so we can get an idea of your level of expertise. Now, Mr. Potter, if you would just gave us a demonstration of the Patronus Charm.”
The assembled aurors gave a rustle and Rashid said cautiously, “That’s quite advanced, Minister. Don’t you think something more OWL or pre-NEWT level…?”
Assistant Minister Bones merely said, “I understand he’s been doing this spell for some time now.” She gestured for Harry to demonstrate and he had little trouble summoning up a happy thought for that. He waved his wand and the silver-white stag erupted from it, cantering to the end of the room and back and then vanishing into the air.
“Very good,” she said. “Outstanding, in fact.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. “We’ve all been able to do that for a while.” Madam Bones’ monocle sagged slightly as she opened her eyes quite wide.
“All of you? Let’s see, then.” Hermione stepped forward and a silvery otter lashed from her wand. Then Ron and Neville demonstrated theirs.
They all beamed happily and Madam Bones said, “Well, Dumbledore. Well, indeed.” She then put them through a series of defensive spells, most of which they all knew, either from classes or from their own practice during fifth year, when Umbridge had forbade them to use their wands at all in class.
The hour passed smoothly and Harry felt at the end of the meeting that he had done quite well. He noticed, too, that the watching aurors were also looking happy and he supposed that they were hoping Madam Bones would recommend them all for hiring. He wondered uncomfortably who many of those now working there would still be alive and whole if ever Harry and his friends passed their NEWTs and were hired.
They took the elevator to the lobby again and reassembled for their next tour. This time, the elevator took them down to Level Nine, and the Department of Mysteries. And once again, Dumbledore stayed with their group. Harry understood then that the Headmaster had arranged to be there for security and he wondered how he had let the news out so that Voldemort would know and stay away. The Ministry guide this time was a man called Bludgard and he was accompanied by a tiny aged man whom Harry remembered as Professor Tofty from their OWLs.
Professor Tofty smiled at them and said, “This is a first, isn’t it Eric?” Eric didn’t look particularly thrilled to be letting students into the secret domain of the Department of Mysteries.
“Don’t touch anything,” he said dourly, “And don’t do anything, unless we say so. Professor Tofty is right in saying this is a first. We don’t let visitors down here usually because quite a few things are dangerous, in fact. Very dangerous.”
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that both of them were looking rather uneasy. Ron, in particular, looked rather pale and Harry thought he might be remembering their previous visit, when under the influence of a Death Eater spell, Ron had summoned a brain from a tank and had the thing wrap its tendrils about him and begin, Harry believed now, to possess him. The other two taking the tour were Parvati and Lavender, both of whom were very taken with Professor Trelawney and with Divination in general. Eric unrolled a parchment and clucked under his breath at the information there.
“Patil, Parvati,” he said. “Tell me what subjects you’ve taken that qualify you for this department.”
Paravti glanced nervously at him and said, “Divination and Ancient Runes.”
He nodded and checked her off with a large purple quill.
“Bown, Lavender,” he called next, and Lavender recited, ‘Divination and Ancient runes,”
He placed another tick beside Lavender’s name and called, ”Granger, Hermione.”
“Ancient Runes and Arithmancy,” Hermione replied.
“Ah,” Eric said, “Arithmancy. Good. No divination?” he asked frowning.
She shook her head and he went on to call, “Weasley, Ronald,” and was answered, “Just Divination.”
Eric narrowed his gaze at Ron and said, “It is never just Divination, young man. Divination is a noble and ancient art and True Seers are the elite of the wizard world.”
Ron looked hugely alarmed at that and said under his breath, “Trelawney?”
Then his own name was called, “Potter, Harry,” and Eric paused and his eyes did that glance upward at Harry’s forehead.
Harry made an effort to keep his voice neutral and said, “Also, just Divination, sir.”
Eric looked as though he would make a comment, but Professor Tofty said cheerily, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, follow me, please. He tapped on one of the doors and they proceeded into the room which had enormous models of the planets hanging in mid-air.
“Who can guess what we use this room for?” Professor Tofty asked.
Parvati raised her hand and answered, “Casting horoscopes, sir.”
“Yes, indeed,” Professor Tofty answered. “The planets indeed reflect the present alignment of those heavenly bodies and from them we have many clues of what is to come. We also have a means of seeing the entire night sky. Now,” he added, “what do you make of the present configuration?”
They all looked up at the planets, which hung elegantly poised in midair, floating, illuminated from within. The planets, he saw, and as Professor Trelawney and Firenze had both noted in recent classes, were very nearly lined up in one long perfect line. From Mercury to Jupiter, the planets could be seen to form a straight line. Behind them, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto angled off, but as they all knew, the planets were due to be in perfect alignment in just a few months.
Their professors, however, were not in accord as to the meaning of this rare formation. Trelawny, of course, was convinced that this meant disaster and doom and death. Firenze, interestingly, did not entirely agree.
“A terrible event will occur when all the planets align,” Lavender said in voice unlike her usual rather fluting and giggly tones.
“Ah,” Professor Tofty said, “do you agree, Harry?”
Alarmed at being asked for his opinion in what was nearly his worst subject, Harry said cautiously, “Erm, partly. It could be that. It could also be a significant event, but not necessarily a bad one. At least, that’s what Firenze says.”
“Firenze?” Eric asked.
“One of our Divination teachers,” Harry answered.
“Don’t know him,” Eric said. His tone suggested that if he didn’t know a person, that person wasn’t worth knowing. He led them through the door and back through the circular room to another place Harry knew. The Hall of Prophecy. Racks and racks of dusty globes shimmered with soft light, and each globe enclosed a prophecy. The shelves that held them were labeled with the name of the prophet, and the name or names of the persons whom the prophecies were about. One of those globes once had held a prophecy about Harry; only it had broken when he had gone to this same place thinking he would save Sirius from Voldemort’s terror. The talk swirled around him, but he barely listened and he was glad when they left the room for another.
He came alert again when they entered an amphitheatre-like room with rows of stone benches that looked down on a platform on which hung a dusty black curtain. Professor Tofty appeared to be going right through the room without stopping and Harry wasn’t having any of that. This room was the reason he had come.
“What’s behind the curtain?” he said loudly.
"This is called the Department of Mysteries for a reason," Eric replied stiffly. "Keep going," he added.
"What's behind the curtain," Harry asked again. "I want to know."
"Nothing at all," Professor Tofty answered. Harry stared at the old, old man. He spoke the truth, Harry knew somehow, but he was wrong just the same. Perhaps he didn't know the answer? Perhaps none of them knew the answer? Harry scrambled down the stone benches toward the curtain.
Dumbledore came down after him, but Harry was there before him. Harry walked onto the platform and right up to the black curtain, which fluttered a very little, as if a breeze blew behind it. He peered around to the other side, but saw to his perplexity that there was nothing but a stonewall. He walked around behind it and came around to the front of the platform again.
"What is this thing?" he asked again, and this time, he directed the question to Dumbledore alone.
Dumbledore shook his head and said quietly, "I cannot answer."
"I want to know," Harry said again. "I need to know."
"Not all questions can be answered," Dumbledore replied sadly, "and not all answers can be understood."
Almost, Harry turned away in defeat, but the curtain fluttered gently and he heard again, as he had once before, voices behind it, whispering.
"If there's nothing in there," he said, "why are there voices. Why are people talking in there?" Dumbledore looked positively alarmed and Eric stared at him in outrage.
"There are no voices," the Unspeakable said.
Harry turned furiously and said, "there are. I hear them." he stared at the curtain and called out, "Sirius! Are you there? Talk to me Sirius. It's me. Harry."The voices were louder and Harry moved closer again to the dusty curtain.
Dumbledore had reached the platform though, and he said again, "Come away, Harry. You must not do this." Harry looked at the elderly wizard and that his blue eyes were neither twinkling nor angry. Instead, he looked afraid.
"Don't you hear them, sir?" he asked. His voice cracked as he asked, as it hadn't done since he was twelve or thriteen. Dumbledore shook his head again and held out a hand to Harry as if he were a small child being encouraged to take his first steps.
"Very unstable," Eric said. "We'll have to call the Minister. He warned us you might pull some stunt, Potter."
Dumbledore swung around to stare angrily at the Unspeakable, but Harry had enough. It seemed to him that his whole life had been one long series of unanswered questions and unresolved enigmas. He would have his answer this time and no one would stop him.
He drew his wand and said "Alohomora!" Dumbledore jumped back around so fast that his white beard whipped to the side and he grabbed hold of Harry's arm in a grip that was astonishingly strong for such an old man. Harry shook him off, though. The curtain had parted and at first Harry thought there really was nothing there. He stared into the open gap and fancied he could feel a warm breeze coming through.
"Sirius," he said again, "Come out. Please." His heart felt as though it was swelling, growing larger and beating so hard that his whole body was vibrating. As he looked into the open gap which the cutain had concealed, the space appeared to take on the color of nearly midnight blue. A color very pure and unmixed with any other shade. Stars seemed to wheel by, the constellations moving at an impossible speed and he saw, as if a film were speeded up, a galaxy born and die in a great explosion all in the space of a second. Then the midnight blue returned and brightened and the blue seemed to waver, like a curtain of glass beads, shimmering through with some undefined light. The whispering returned and Harry said once more, "I hear you. Come out and speak."
Hermione, he thought, would know the right spell to say, but just as he was about to beg her to tell him, the blue void wavered again, and a transparent light approached and coalesced into a brightness so great he could hardly continue to look. Someone else cried out, or perhaps it was Harry himself. The light formed and he thought he was looking at Sirius, but it was a Sirius he had never seen in life. This Sirius had eyes that were at peace; the real Sirius, his Sirius, had never been at peace.
"Come back," Harry said. He held out his hand and said, "Come back. I'll help you." He made as if to put his hand through the veil, but Dumbledore pulled him back again. This time, Harry stood still, but it was not because of the old man's hand pulling him back. A voice had spoken.
"I cannot come back," the figure said. "It is not allowed."
"I'll come to you, then," Harry answered, and again he attempted to move through the veil.
"You must not," Sirius replied. "It is not permitted."
"You did," Harry said. "I want..." He stopped there, painfully, because he didn't know what he wanted.
"Why?" Harry asked. "I can hear you, see you. They can't. I know you're there. I know you're real. Why can't you come through again?"
"I don't know," Sirius answered. "It's a mystery."
"But..." Harry was completely flummoxed. He had expected an answer. He had hoped for more.
"But what about Voldemort?" Harry asked desperately. "He was separated from his body. He died. He should have died, and he came back. How is that possible?"
"I don't know," Sirius repeated. "That, too, is a mystery. Only you can answer that mystery, Harry. The answer is inside you and only you can find it."
"But how can I defeat him," Harry asked more desperately, "If he can't be killed?" No answer came. The light faded and the voices died. The ampitheatre was silent. A great fury consumed him and an even greater sorrow. He stared into the midnight blue, which now took on the glassy look of a mirror, or a lake.
"Where are you?" Harry asked, "Show me," he commanded. "Show me my enemy. Where is he and how can I defeat him?" The veil shivered and again Harry saw a figure approaching, but this one was not filled with light. Rather, the tall man coming toward him could easily have been his twin, for now that Harry had grown, they were nearly the same height. The red eyes stared at him through the mirror and Harry felt his scar begin to pulse with pain, but he ignored it. He saw again the stone fireplace with the great stone cauldron and the dark mists rising to create the cloud of ice and death that would freeze the world forever.
"I'm coming for you," Harry whispered. "You know I will." The red eyes focused for a moment and Harry thought he would scream as the pain increased and he thought for a moment that Voldemort would tear right through the curtain as a spider-fingered hand reached out and clawed the air. Then the black curtain flapped shut and the dusty cloth stirred and settled and the voices were silenced.
"What does it mean?" Harry asked Dumbledore.
"What did you see?" Dumbledore asked urgently.
Harry looked at him with surprise and said, "Didn't you see him? Didn't you hear him?"
"Who?" Dumbledore asked.
"Sirius," Harry said. He stumbled down from the platform and pressed his hand against his aching scar. "But he vanished and then I saw Voldemort."
He looked up at Dumbledore and said, "This thing, it's like the Mirror of Erised, isn't it? You see what you want, whatever you want."
Dumbleodre shook his head again and would have spoken, but Professor Tofty had come down the stairs and said, "Harry Potter," and when Harry looked up at him, hoping the old man would tell him something, the Professor said, "You look like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."
"I…what?" Harry asked.
"She could see in the veil, too," Tofty answered. "For those who have the talent, the veil is a window through which one can see much, past, present, future, and outside space and time itself. This is one of the greatest mysteries," he said quietly, "that all these, life, death, now and forever, should be so intertwined and yet so unknowable."
"Come," Dumbledore said again to Harry. "This place is not for you now, anymore than the Mirror of Erised was. I told you then, do you remember, that it does not do, to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
"You also told me," Harry answered, "that death is the next great adventure. I think that living is all about learning how to die."
Dumbledore then looked so sad and so weary that Harry felt sad and ashamed and he said, "I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have said that, should I?"
What Dumbledore might have answered, Harry never knew. Another voice interrupted--Fudge, saying, "Dumbledore, you must come, the Muggle Prime Minister has called. Another death has occurred. A muggle, frozen to death in his shower. The ice came through his shower!"
Harry gawped at the Minister, horrified at the image his words evoked. Fudge was literally wringing his hands together, something he'd only seen described in books. His face was beaded with sweat and the whites showed around his eyes.
Dumbledore turned to face Fudge and said, "Let me get this straight, Cornelius. You are asking me to communicate with the Muggle Prime Minister instead of yourself, or a Ministry official?" Fudge stepped back and nearly fell over the stone bench behind him.
"I..well...that is to say...I thought you were assisting with these matters. You're the head of the Order of the Phoenix." He sounded, oddly offended, Harry thought, for a man who had gone out of his way to try to arrest Dumbledore only two years ago for trying to take over the Ministry. Fudge looked around wildly at Professor Tofty and at the Unspeakable, Bludgard.
"You see, don't you? Just when he's called on, he refuses help." Fudge's eyes turned from Dumbledore to Harry and Harry thought for one awful instant that Fudge would tell him to go, though to do what he couldn't fathom. He looked at Dumbledore and saw that the elderly wizard was utterly composed, but his blue eyes were furious. Dumbledore looked fleetingly at Tofty and then waited calmly, courteously, for Fudge to continue.
"I cannot speak to him," Fudge said. His voice had taken on a strange whine, like the sound of a buzzsaw about to break. "He will try to force us to go public, to give up our secrecy and submit to Muggle control. This must not happen."
"Then you, Minister Fudge, must deal with it," Dumbledore replied. "It is up to you to demonstrate the effectiveness of your leadership, and if it is a task you feel you cannot do, then you must send a Ministry official, someone who is one of the Ministry's own, to deal with the matter."
"But, who?" Fudge said wildly. "This is a delicate matter. I cannot go myself. But I must have someone who will speak to the Muggle Prime Minister with respect, who will understand the potential for disaster in this matter." Dumbledore, however, did not answer that question.
"I'm quite sure you know your own staff, Minister," the headmaster replied calmly. "I thank you for the time you have given my students, but as their tours should all have been completed, I must see to their safe return to Hogwarts."
"Now see here, Dumbleodre," Fudge spluttered. Dumbledore merely ascended the stone stairs of the amphitheatre with a calm dignity and Harry followed behind him trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Fudge was not giving up, though. He moved to block Dumbledore's way and once again his eyes turned to Harry.
"I think the time has come that we spoke of," Fudge said in a new voice, a harder voice. A small cough from Professor Tofty drew his attention and Fudge said impatiently, "Not now, Tofty. This is no time for eccentric theories and mysteries."
Professor Tofty drew himself up to his full four feet nine inches and said, "A word of suggestion, Cornelius? We do have a Ministry department that handles these particular incidents, do we not? The Misuse of Muggle Artifiacts, isn't it? If you've got a cursed shower, you ought to be sending Arthur Weasley to deal with this."
Fudge turned quite red in the face and said, "Arthur Weasely? Send Arthur Weasley to deal with the Muggle Prime Minister? He hasn't got the rank to deal with a matter like this!"
Profesor Tofty said quite seriously, "There is an obvious solution to that. Just promote him. Give him a new office and assign him to deal with all these matters. Something like, oh, Head of Muggle Affairs. I'm sure you can come up with an appropriate title that the Muggles will respect. Very big on titles, the Muggles are, aren't they?"
Harry thought Fudge would actually have a stroke, the veins on his face stood out so far. Then a weird, calculating look took over his face and he said, "Arthur Weasley. You may be right. Perhaps I have underestimated his abilities. Yes, let's do that shall we. It's not a bad title either. There's an empty office that Undesecretary Umbridge used to use. He shall be Undersecretary of Muggle Affairs and report directly to the Prime Minister."
Fudge left quickly then, without a backward glance at Dumbledore and Harry. Ron, however, had actually drawn his wand, and face was pale, but his ears were bright red, a sure sign of terrible temper. Hermione laid a hand on his arm and said something quitely in his ear. Harry moved as fast as he was able and laid a hand on Ron's opposite shoulder.
"Steady on, mate," he said very softly. "Fudge has been outmanovered and he doesn't even know it." Harry looked at Dumbledore and saw that his blue eyes were twinkling once more.
Then the twinkle died and he said gravely, "It is a great misfortune that so often deserving men never receive their due recognition until some terrible misfortune impels lesser men to desperate acts."
Ron flushed again and said, "You mean my Dad."
Dumbledore leaned forward and said in a near whisper, "I think Minister Fudge has made a decision that is far wiser than he knows or would ever wish for."
With that last rather mystifying statement, Dumbledore led them back out of the Department of Mysteries and into the cool, blue lit lobby of the Ministry. The others were there and lined up already and McGongaall said with great anxiety, "What's happened Albus? Is everything all right?"
"Fine," Dumbledore answered. "The students are all fine."
"But the Minister," McGonagal said, "just rushed up from where you were in a terrible pother." Her face turned severe with disapproval and she added, "If it were anyone but the Minister, I should say he was in a panic."
Snape had approached and he cut in, "I do believe the word panic is an understatement, Minerva." His black eyes were full of the kind of contempt that Snape usually reserved for Harry or for the very stupidest of his students. For once, Harry was in complete agreement with the Potions Master. He couldn't help it; a very small smile crept its way to his mouth and Snape, naturally saw it. Even more unusually, Snape stared at him with a rare look of understanding.
