The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Chapter Seventeen
They had been waiting for Harry to come out of the Headmaster’s office for what seemed like hours but was really only a quarter of an hour at the most.
“I knew he’d try to bolt,” Ron said. “I just knew it. The way he was acting last night, I dunno, it was like, he was gone already.”
Ginny scowled and said, “Yeah. What I want to know is what Bill and Mum were saying to him. It’s bad enough he was already upset about his aunt and all. Then Bill had to go and talk to him, and about what, that made him so upset? He was fine at the end of practice. I saw him. Then Bill pulled him aside and he was off the rest of the day.”
“He was talking about you and Harry,” Ron answered.
“Oh go on,” Ginny said, “there’s nothing to talk about.” Ron looked at Hermione and said, “We’re not blind, you know.”
Ginny glared at them both. “We’re not dating. I’m going with someone else.”
“Good try,” Hermione said. “You need to look a little more enthusiastic when you say that. And name him, why don’t you. Neville? He’d be a good choice, because he’s really sweet.”
“Neville’s too nice,” Ron said absently. “Pick someone who’s not so nice, so you won’t care if he really likes you.” Ginny stamped her foot in disgust and peered out of the doorway looking for Harry. Hermione thought is was pitiful really. Just when Harry had finally paid attention to her, he’d decided he was going to have to protect everyone around him from every possible danger. Someone was going to have to talk some sense into him. She just hoped that Dumbledore would.
Harry came stalking out of the spiral staricase entrance, and if you didn't know better, you'd have thought he was perfectly calm. His face was composed, but there was a high flush at his cheekbones, in contrast to the pallor of the rest of him. Ron moved quickly and hustled Harry into the empty classroom before he could protest. Hermione shut the door quickly so that no one could hear. And to keep him in. Unfortunately, Ginny jumped on the offensive before Hermione could try something more tactful.
"Well," she said, "what did Mum say that got you so upset? What did Bill say yesterday?"
"She knows," Harry answered. "Your Mum knows everything. Even Dumbledore knows. Probably half the school knows."
"She does not know," Ginny retorted. "I told her there was nothing..." Ginny cursed and said, "She tricked you. She told you she knew everything and got you to admit it. Damn. She must have reckoned you wouldn't expect her to do that."
"What do you mean by everything, anyway?" Ron asked.
Ginny flushed and Harry said coolly, "Just what you think. The real problem is making sure that Voldemort doesn't come after her or the two of you."
"There's no way you can make sure of that," Hermione said quietly. "Everyone is at risk. Not just your particular friends."
"Well," Harry said, "my particular friends are the most at risk. If it wasn't for Mrs. Weasley, my aunt and cousin would be dead, and I bet he'll try again."
"But my Mum," Ginny said, "didn't she yell at you? I mean, what did she say?"
Harry looked at her and then glanced uncomfortably at Ron. Hermione thought, uh oh, and quickly interrupted.
"What's more important," she said, "is Harry mustn't go running off and leaving school. You tried to, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he said grimly, "Dumbledore stopped me. I still think he's wrong. I should never have returned this year at all."
"Then what changed your mind about staying?" Ron asked. Harry's face tightened up fractionally. She could see it, the increase of tension, like a string on a violin or guitar about to snap.
Then his mouth curled up ever so slightly and he answered, "You, of course. Dumbledore said you'd all come running after me and put yourself in worse danger then before. And I reckoned he was right."
"Good," Ron said. "Cause don't think you can sneak out of here without us like last year. That's not happening again."
"Oh, I don't intend to," Harry said. "When the time comes, if it comes, I expect to tell you and I expect you not to stop me. And I expect you not to follow me either."
"You expect too much," Ron answered.
"Ron..." he said. Then he stopped and seemed to change his mind. "I don't think you understand, any of you really. We're not kids anymore. We did things when we were kids that we probably wouldn't do now because we just didn't know enough." He stopped again and said reluctantly, "You have to face it, what's going to happen. I'm going to fight Voldemort again. I can't avoid it. And I might not be lucky again. I probably won't be lucky again. And about the only thing that makes me able to live with that is thinking that at least you won't get killed along with me if I'm not too stupid about it. You see?"
"And what does Dumbledore think?" Hermione asked. "You said that to him, didn't you?"
Harry looked at his hands and said, "He thinks I could defeat Voldemort, if I finish school."
Relief washed through her and she saw by Ron's face and Ginny's that they felt the same. Then she Harry's face and realized that he did not.
"Even the wisest person," Harry said quietly, "is wrong sometimes. I don't see how...I mean, I can kill him only so many times, and he'll come back, he'll possess someone else. Sooner or later he'll win, you see.” But he wasn't done, and the last part scared Hermione most of all.
"If it has to be," he said, "I'd rather it was sooner than later. Because he grows stronger every day and I....they're already propping me up with potions that I don't want. If it goes on too long, he'll possess me next, for good, and that I can't live with. I'd rather die than be his. Become him." He left then and none of them tried to stop him. After a moment, though, Ron cursed fluently and followed him.
She stared at Ginny's frozen face and said, "Can't you think of anything to change his mind? Tell him he's not going to be possessed. Tell him Voldemort couldn't stand to possess him for long. You have to stop him."
"It seems like I'm not enough for him, am I?" Ginny answered. "Ooh, I told him we won't let him go off by himself and he's still going to try it. And what did Mum say?" Hermione looked at her friend and wondered what Dumbledore had said.
They took it in turns to watch Harry. Someone was always there to keep him entertained at lunch and dinner so he would eat. And one of them was always there at night to watch him while he studied or paced or stared into the fire. And eventually whomever it was would chivvy him upstairs and see that he went to bed, if not to sleep.
Hermione's turn to watch him came on the Sunday night two weeks after his failed flight. He paced restlessly in endless circles and then flung himself in an armchair rubbing his scar, only to get up and repeat the whole process all over again. It took until three in the morning and Hermione's exhausted shove to get him to go upstairs.
***
In the morning, Hermione resolved to speak to McGonagall. An idea had been percolating in her mind for weeks, one she hoped would help Harry get some relief from the constant irritant of his scar and his continued anxiety over sleeping. She waited until everyone else had left, waving for Ron to follow Harry to lunch.
Then plucking up her nerve, she said, Professor McGonagall, might I speak to you please?"
McGonagall answered beadily, "You are speaking to me Miss Granger." Then she smiled a bit and asked, "What is it then?"
"I want to take extra lessons," Hermione said hurriedly.
"Extra lessons?" McGonagall replied. "Don't you think you have enough to be going on with N.E.W.T. level classes?"
"No, Professor," Hermione responded, and then at McGonagall's disbelieving stare, "Yes, Professor. But this is special. I want to learn it before I leave school, and I think you'd be the best person to learn it from. I know you are."
"I appreciate your diligence Miss Granger," McGonagall replied, "but I hardly think.."
"I want to learn to do the animagus spell," Hermione blurted out. "I think I can do it. I'm sure I can. I mean, I've studied up on it and I'd register properly and everything if you would teach me. Please, Professor. If I wait until after my NEWTs are finished, I might never have another opportunity."
Professor McGonagall stopped and stared at her. She frowned, her beady eyes intent and curious. "Potter put you up to this, didn't he?"
"No, Professor," Hermione answered. her heart sank. The Professor would never teach her the spell if she knew what Hermioen had in mind.
"No?" McGonagall asked.
"No, really," Hermione reassured her. "Harry's so preoccupied these days, I'm sure the last thing he'd even think of or want is extra lessons. No, it's for me. Because, well, it's the biggest thing you can do in Transfiguration, isn't it? And it's my best subject." She hoped she hadn't gone too far with that, although it was true. Really, she reflected, everything she had said was true. The silence extended long enough that Hermione was sure McGonagall would refuse.
However, the Professor replied, “Very well, Miss Granger. I trust you will not neglect your other lessons for this.”
“Of course, not, Professor” Hermione answered. It was only afterward that she wondered whether McGonagall might have had a reason of her own for teaching her. Hermione was even more glad she had plucked up her nerve when she saw Harry at lunch. He was picking at his food again and not even Ron’s hilariously doleful predictions for his next month’s star chart for Divination could raise more than a faint twitch from Harry.
“Here,” Ron laughed, “the last one is the best. On December the thirty-first, owing to the conjunction of Mars and Mercury and Saturn, a heliopath will burn down the Forbidden Forest and I shall be trampled by a fleeing Crumple-horned Snorkack. Do you think that’s a bit excessive?”
“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Ginny cut in. “We’re not going to be here for the holidays. We’re going home. Mum said so.”
“Well, that’s good,” Ron answered. “It’ll be a nice change from being here or -”
Hermione cut in. “The tour of Gringotts is the first day of the holidays. Will we stay overnight at the Leaky Cauldron, do you think, before going on?”
“That’d be fun,” Ginny said. “I’d like to do my holiday shopping in Diagon Alley this year.” Ginny glanced at Harry, but he was drinking his fifth cup of coffee for the day and he did not look up at Ginny. Hermione looked at Ron and Ginny. There was no need for any of them to say a word. They would have to keep a very close watch on Harry during the holidays. She wondered if even Dumbledore had any clue how poorly he was doing lately.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they had moved on to the last subject of the term before exams. Bill had given them a whole group of curses to study that could only be broken by a repetition of the same curse. Hermione was surprised when Harry actually raised his hand and asked a question, something he hadn’t done in weeks it seemed.
“Are there some,” Harry asked hesitantly, “I mean, are there any curses that can only be broken by the original person who cast the spell in the first place?”
“That’s a very good question,” Bill replied thoughtfully. “There are a few very esoteric ones that we ran across in Egypt that might have been like that. The only problem was, the original person who’d cast them was dead. So we had to find another way to get around them.” Bill looked out the window at the sheets of freezing rain and snow and Hermione thought, I bet he misses Egypt. She shivered. The weather had been so horrid so far, she wondered what was coming for the real winter. Egypt, the sun, the desert, the mysterious Sphinx…wouldn’t that make a nice change, she thought wistfully.
Bill lined them up and had them try their hands at the curse of the day. However, when it came time for Harry to be the curse victim, no one was willing to try it. Even Hermione had to admit, she wouldn’t like to have her own curse backfire on her.
She stepped forward and said, “Here, you try it on me, Harry. And then you can undo it as well.”
He smiled a very small smile at her and said, “All right,” as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking and understood exactly why she had done what she had done.
He raised his wand, only just as he was about to utter the words of the curse, Neville stepped forward and said, “I’ll try it, Hermione.”
Harry lowered his wand and raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Neville,” he said.
Neville raised his wand, only Bill interrupted and said, “Class is up, anyway. I want a foot of parchment on South American curses for Thursday’s class. And please be sure if you have signed up for the Gringotts Tour to bring me your essay a day early. The chief recruiting officer would like a sample of your work so he can get an idea of your abilities. I need not tell you that I expect your very best efforts, each and every one of you. Gringotts takes only the very best and trains the best curse-breakers in the world.”
Bill said this last very matter-of-factly, but Hermione could see that he took pride in his regular work and that he must be longing for the day when he could go back to his normal life, without chasing Death Eaters and without teaching a class full of his younger brother’s and sister’s friends.
As they left the class, Harry said quietly to Neville, "You are the bravest person in the class, you know."
"That's rubbish," Neville answered. "I'm only tired of everyone cringing when you walk by. As if they're going to be cursed if you just look at them. That's rubbish, too." Hermione was dead pleased, then, when the first genuine smile in weeks lit Harry's face.
She nudged Ron and said, “Go, Neville!"
Ron slung an arm around her shoulders and said, "Go, Hermione!"
She smiled back at him and let him walk all the way to her Arithmancy class like that.
Hermione snuck off to her animagus lesson with McGonagall on the last Wednesday evening before holidays were due to begin. She had left Ron and Harry muttering over a Divination assignment-- this time, from Firenze.
“I can’t believe he gave us homework,” Ron said. “So, tell me what you’ve been dreaming about, Harry, and I’ll tell you if the world’s going to end next Tuesday.” Hermione paused at the portrait hole, curious to hear Harry’s answer. His response was unusually sardonic.
“Hmmm…let’s see,” Harry said, “there was the one about goblins playing quidditch. And then there was the one about you and Hermione flying on a dragon and then, erm…” He paused a moment and added, “Well, I think that’s about all that I remember. I don’t think either one of them have anything to do with anything, though. Probably ate too much treacle tart for dinner last night.”
Ron guffawed. Hermione, however, went out of the portrait hole thinking Harry had lied quite well. It was only if you knew he’d gone to bed at four in the morning and might not have slept at all that you would question it.
Professor McGonagall looked at her through her square glasses and asked, “Are you sure you want to try this, Miss Granger? The spell does go wrong for most people, you know, quite drastically wrong.”
“I’m sure,” Hermione replied. She entered the office, which was a spare and orderly as McGonagall herself.
“Now then,” Professor McGonagall said. “I will do the spell first. When you become accustomed to it, it does become easier, and vocalizing is not necessary. But when you begin, saying the spell exactly right is essential, as is a clear and perfect focus of the will. If you are at all distracted, it is much more likely you will fail and only partially transform.”
McGonagall spoke clearly and in an instant, she shrank and transformed in to the gray tabby cat that was her animagus form. As always, Hermione was impressed with the ease of her transformation. In another breath, the cat was once more the woman, and the woman watched her keenly out of her bright and perceptive eyes.
“First, you will say the spell aloud, but do not even attempt the transformation. I want to be sure that you are speaking the words correctly.”
Hermione nodded and thinking only of the words, said them as clearly as she could.
“Very good,” McGongall said.
“May I try?” Hermione asked eagerly. McGonagall nodded, with a touch of reluctance, but she nodded nevertheless.
“Now, you must say the words, exactly as before and at the same time, focus only on them.” Hermione took a deep breath. She thought the words in her mind again, so that she would get them exactly right. Then she said them and felt a change that was as odd as when they had used polyjuice potion second year and she had changed partially into a cat, instead of Millicent Bulstrode, whom she had intended to become. This transformation, however, had the distinct advantage of not requiring the consumption of a foul and nauseating potion.
She blinked at McGonagall and sat on her haunches. She put out a paw and admired it, the dark brown fur, and the steely claws were quite nice. Her tail had a lovely tuft on it, but it did need cleaning. She purred and realized she had no idea how to change back again. But that didn’t bother her greatly. McGonagall transformed again herself and Hermione was quite surprised at how little the other cat was. It still was capable of a fearsome glare, though, and she ducked when the little cat batted at her tail.
“Very good, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said when she had returned both of them to their human forms. “Next time, I shall show you how to reverse the change.”
“Can we try it before the holidays?” Hermione asked.
McGonagall gave her a piercing look and asked, “Miss Granger, you are not planning to use this transformation for any escapades with Potter and Weasley are you?”
“No, Professor,” Hermione answered. “Honestly, they don’t know about this. And I’ve no intention of telling them about it. Not for a while, anyway.”
McGonagall considered her thoughtfully and said, “I must say, it will be useful to have someone who transforms into a larger animal than a housecat or a bee. But you will have to be very careful about where and when you transform, that is certain.”
“I’m a cat, too, aren’t I?” Hermione asked. She was quite thrilled, but wanted confirmation that she had really been successful.
“A very large cat, Miss Granger,” McGonagall answered, “if a lioness can properly be called a cat.”
***
On the twenty-second of December, the Hogwarts Express took the students back to Kings Cross for their winter holidays. Harry settled himself into a carriage with Neville and Luna Lovegood and Ginny. Ron and Hermione were upfront with the prefects, making sure that they were assigned to various carriages to keep order during the long ride. Only seven of the forty seventh-year’s had signed up for the tour of Gringotts.
The posted list had included Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Anthony Goldstein. Bill was their assigned professor chaperone -no surprise there -and they were scheduled to stay the night at the Leaky Cauldron and take the tour the following morning.
Harry was looking forward to the whole trip. He was immensely curious to know whether Gringotts really was guarded by dragons- a bit of gossip Hagrid had told him the first time he'd gone there- and where in the world a Gringotts curse-breaker might be assigned. Aside from that, there was the pleasure of a good trip to diagon Alley.
Mrs. Weasley was to meet them at the train, and she had promised to allow them a visit to Fred and George's joke shop as well as all their favorite stores. Harry was hoping to get in some last minute Christmas shopping. And it would be the first time in ages that he hadn't been cooped up at Privet Drive, Grimmauld Place, or Hogwarts. Not that he normally minded Hogwarts. It was just the feeling that he would be free for an hour or two to pretend he was like any other fellow. To go shop for presents, to look in at Quality Quidditch Supplies, to stop for a butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron.
"How come so few people have signed up to go for the tour?" Harry asked.
"I think some people just don't feel comfortable with the idea of working for goblins," Neville answered. "It must be from learning about all those goblin wars in History."
"They are a bit dangerous," Luna observed. Her huge blue eyes were focused intensely on Harry. "You ought to be careful, Harry. Goblins aren't too fond of wizards, and they're even less fond of the most powerful wizards. They have long memories and really hate those who've used wand magic to subdue them."
"Why should they worry about me?" Harry responded. "I'm not exactly about to attack them if I'm applying for a job there, now am I?"
Luna merely stared at Harry and said softly, "Goblins can taste the power of magic, and you've got a lot of it."
"You make it sound like it's a bar of chocolate," Harry retorted.
Ginny giggled at that, but Luna continued to observe him steadily. Harry just shrugged, however. It was one of Luna's odd mannerisms that made others tease her, but then, he had come in for his share of stares and whispers and laughter, so who was he to take offense?
Harry bought a pile of Cauldron Cakes and pasties and chocolate frogs from the cart, and they all stuffed themselves with snacks. Ron and Hermione had joined them for that and Ron plowed into a meat-pasty with such enthusiasm you wouldn't think he'd eaten for days, much elss had a rather large breakfast only a few hours before. Harry shook his head and grinned. It was amazing how much Ron could put away and never grow fat, although he had finally begun to fill out, so that his tall sturdy frame no longer seemed excessively gangly.
"Look at that," Ron said, handing his choclate frog card to Harry. "I've got Godric Gryffindor. You'd think those would be easy to find, but they're really quite rare."
Harry looked at the card with interest. Aside from the fact that Gryffidnor was the namesake of their House at Hogwarts, Harry had a sneaking fondness for him: It was Gryffindor's sword, after all, that had saved him from the basilisk; and the very same sword had been the one Harry had used to defeat Voldemort the previous year. The sword was missing from the picture, but Gryffindor's hazel eyes had a wonderful glint of amusement in them and Harry handed the card back to Ron almost reluctantly. Outside the train, snow and sleet blew against the windows clouding up the view and covering the windows in a hard white rime. Peculiarly, they could hear from time to time, the rumble of thunder, and every so often, a bolt of lightning sizzled through the falling ice and snow with an eerie blue-white glow.
"Thunder-snow," Luna remarked. "That's really bad luck. And it's usually made by some really malevolent wizard fooling with the weather." Harry was expecting Ginny to giggle and Ron to snort with laughter, but neither did.
"You don't suppose You Know Who's messing with the weather?" Ron asked uneasily.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on. As bad as he is, Voldemort is not responsible for everything in the world that's odd or dangerous."
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Would you know if he was doing it?"
Harry was caught by surprise. He would have thought Hermione would be skeptical of the idea as well. Yet her question sounded quite serious, as it was posed in the exact same serious tone she used when she asked questions in class at school.
"Probably not," he answered. "Unless he was quite nearby, which he's not, right now." He said the last quite matter-of-factly, but everyone there shifted uncomfortably and then looked relieved as well.
When they arrived, the station was already very dark and gloomy, and sleet and snow continued to fall, making the platform slippery and cold. They spotted Mrs. Weasley fairly easily as her vivid red hair stood out among the throng of other parents. Bill came striding down the platform and hustled the seven seniors into a line. Ginny joined them and Mrs. Weasley proceeded to hug everyone there.
Harry couldn't help the flush that rose in his cheeks when she hugged him and he was thankful for the dark, which he hoped concealed his embarrassment. The last time he had seen her, he had been in a total funk, but he was pleased to see that she seemed to have forgotten their last conversation and wasn't at all angry with him that he could tell. They made quite a caravan with all their trunks, and Pigwidgeon was twittering loudly in his cage.
Hedwig, however, huddled quietly on her perch, and alternated between giving Harry reproachful looks as she tried to fluff out her damp feathers and clucking with disgust at Pig's wild chittering. Then Crookshanks somehow slipped out of his carry-all and Hermione had to chase after the banndy-legged cat to try to keep him from being flung under the train. Harry and Ron went after. Harry was certain the cat was clever enough not to get hurt; Hermione, on the other hand, was another story.
She slid down in a heap on the icy platform and a sneering voice said, "Look, its Granger. Wouldn't you know a Mudblood couldn't keep a mere cat under control? The Dangerous Creatures department ought to take care of that ugly thing." Ron had pulled his wand out at Draco Malfoy's nasty comment.
Harry grabbed his arm and said, "Not now," and then reached down to help Hermione up. A tall blond woman had emerged from the barrier. In the foggy light, her hair gleamed nearly as bright as a veela's and her face was a lovely as many a movie star. Harry was surprised to see that Mrs. Malfoy had grown rather stout, though. And so, apparently was Draco.
The Slytherin had stopped speaking and the smile on his face at first was as nice an expression as Harry had ever seen on his face. But then it changed swiftly to shock and then something like rage. All he said then was, "Mum?" and "how could you?"
Mrs. Weasley could be heard bellowing all the way down the platform for them, so they never did hear Mrs. Malfoy's reply. Ron slammed the lid on Crookshanks' carry-all with a bit more force than was necessary, and they hurried back to the platform exit trying not to slip all over again. They made their way through the barrier to the regular platform two at a time and then were hustled into the waiting violet cars, each of which had a vanity plate that said GRINGOTTS on the rear.
In no time at all, they pulled up to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and the driver vanished the dark colored glass that had separated the passengers in the back and prevented them from observing him. The goblin in the front was dressed in what would look like a Muggle chauffeur's outfit, but when he smiled, his pointed teeth gave away his true nature.
"Be at the front doors at nine o'clock sharp, Bill Weasley," the goblin said. "Ragnok is anxious to see some young 'uns that have the pluck to apply to be curse-breakers. And make sure," the goblin added, "they mind their manners, eh?"
Bill answered quite seriously, "I'm certain they will. And I'm certain he'll find this lot promising." Then Bill saluted the goblin cheerily and led them all into the Leaky Cauldron where they were to stay the night. Tom the bartender came hurrying over and pointed them to the rear to a private parlor. Mrs. Weasley now led the way and began assigning the students to share rooms as they would take up most of the room available that night.
"All right," Mrs. Weasley said, "Parvati and Padma can share. And Ginny and Hermione, Ron and Harry, Neville and Anthony. Tom will send your things up, and you can all follow me to the parlor for some supper."
Despite the nasty weather, the pub was crowded and noisy, as a number of other parents had made their way there with their returning children for dinner and a warm drink. Harry trailed along behind Ron, and as he went, the pub went silent and heads turned to stare. A whisper followed him as well, "The Boy Who Lived! ...Look!...Is it really him?...Don't point, dear. It's not polite...Shhh ...he'll hear you."
Harry looked straight ahead and kept his face quite calm as though it were an every day occurrence for people to stare at him and whisper. But no matter how often it happened, he still could not control the wave of heat that rose in his cheeks, nor the discomfort he felt at being an object of wonder and curiosity and fear.
It was a relief when they arrived in the parlor and Harry was almost able to smile when Ron said sardonically, "If you'd only smile and wave, Harry, you'd have all the girls lining up for your autograph like Krum used to."
"Well, at least Krum's famous for something nice," Harry replied dryly. But he put aside his discomfort and ate hungrily when Tom brought in plates of warming beef stew, and shepherd's pies, trays of cheese and biscuits and mugs of hot tea.
The snow and sleet continued to pelt the window of their room and Harry found the room cold even though a fire was burning in the fireplace and their beds were covered in several layers of blankets and down comforters. He slid a sweater on over his pajamas and huddled under the blankets to try to get warm. In the other bed, Ron quickly fell asleep and his soft snores provided a muted counterpoint to the gentle crackle of the fire. Harry gazed sleepily at the window, but he could see nothing through it as the outside was so well-coated the window was nearly opaque.
The occasional flash of lightning would brighten things up momentarily, but only enough to create a faint glow, and the distant rumble of thunder made a solemn drum beat in the night, like the sad march of a cavalry in an ancient epic war.
The thunder was really the boom, dum, boom that issued from the mountainous hump of a drum the giant carried. Each time he beat on the tough hide that covered what must be a hollowed out stump of a tree, the marching soldiers roared. Next to the giant, the fighters were tiny, but they were covered in black armor that shone dully in the weak light.
At the head of the horde, a single figure in black stood. His army, he thought, was growing nicely. His red eyes narrowed as he identified each of his lieutenants. Fewer than thirty they were, but with the dark powers he had given them, taught them, that mattered little. He raised his wand and spoke the words of the curse that blew the life out of his chosen victim. Then he levitated the body in the air for all to see, made it spin, making a whirling flash of color as it moved, faster then the eye could follow. The men roared again, and he flung the body now right at the feet of the giant, who stopped his drumming and seized his prize, his reward for service.
Boom, dum, boom...Harry sat up, grabbed his wand and pointed it at the inruder... Then he flopped back down shivering and closed his eyes as Ginny poked her head in the room and said, "Mum says to get up." She cut off her words though and added tartly, "That's a fine way to say good morning, isn't it?"
"Bad dreams?" Ron asked warily.
Harry stared up at the ceiling for a moment and then answered, "No. I just was startled, that's all."
His scar was twinging mildly, but nothing serious to speak of. He shook off his dream and pointed his wand at the fire to warm it up more. When he looked back at Ron, he saw Ron shaking his head. "What?" he said aggressively.
"Nothing," Ron said. Then he hesitated and asked, "Are you sick or something? I mean, you've got all those blankets on and now you've gone and made the room so hot it feels like Egypt in the summer."
"Perhaps you've got a fever, then," Harry answered. "It's still sleeting out there." Ron shook his head again, but stopped quickly when he saw Harry watching him. Unusually, Ron was already dressed.
Harry ate breaksfast hungrily and contented himself for the most part with listened to eveyone's chatter about the tour and the holidays. He sipped his coffee, grateful for its warming heat and the jolt of energy it gave him.
"I tried to convince my Mum and Dad to buy me a broom for the holidays," Anthony Goldstein said, "but I think they're getting me a new computer instead. Not that I mind that, they're fun, you know, but they just can't get used to the idea of me being a wizard, even after six and half years at Hogwarts."
"I know what you mean," Hermione remarked. "What do your parents do, then?"
"Dad's a professor at University of London," Anthony answered. "And Mum's a barrister." He grinned a bit and said, "I haven't told them there aren't any wizard universities. They keep asking me when I'm going to apply and what I'll be studying. They rather liked the idea of me working for a bank, but I don't think they've the slightest idea that means being a curse-breaker instead of an investment analyst or something."
"You'll have to tell them sometime," Hermione said. "I wouldn't leave it too long, or they'll be more upset I expect."
"I dunno," Anthony, responded doubtfully, "they'll be upset no matter what. Everyone in our family goes to university. It's just expected. But at least we're going to have a good time over the holiday. Dad's taking me to the British Museum and he can get me in to see some the manuscripts that the public never sees."
"Cool!" Hermione said, at the same time Ron snorted into his tea.
"Why on earth would you want to spend your holdiay looking at a pile of moldy old manuscripts?" Ron asked. "You can do that at Hogwarts all year long."
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Barabarian."
Anthony contrived to look offended and amused at the same time. "The museum is great," he said enthusiastically. "I think they've got a few things there that might be wizard artefacts. You should see the Egyptian exhibit. Mummies and scepters and all kinds of things they rook from the pyramids. I think there's one thing there that might be the sceptre of Khafre, the legendary one that Bill told us about in class."
"Really?" Hermione said as Ron said, "what legendary sceptre?" Hermione and Anthony and Padma all looked at Ron.
"Don't you ever listen in class?" Hermione asked.
"Not to boring old history," Ron answered airily.
This time, all three rolled their eyes at Ron and Anthony turned to Hermione and said, "Why don't you join us, if your Mum and Dad'll won't mind. I think there might be some grimmoires hidden in there and we might be able to see an actual copy of the Book of the Dead."
Hermione's eyes lit up and then her face fell a bit. She looked at Harry and Ron and started to shake her head.
"Why not?" Harry cut in. "You'll be in London anyway." They were going back to Grimmauld Place for the holdiays as Dumbledore had decreed the Burrow was just not protected enough. In a rare spirit of rebellion, Harry added, "Maybe we can come along, too, if your Dad won't mind too many extras."
Ron started to splutter, probably that the last thing he wanted to do was wander around a Muggle museum, but Harry kicked him under the table. A day out in London, even if it had to be at a museum sounded like a treat to Harry. Anything to get out of being cooped up in a house that, no matter what improvements were made to it, could only remind him of Sirius and his own fatally stupid mistakes.
"I don't see why not," Anthony replied. He looked at Hermione and added dryly, "I guess you just can't be separated from the Gryffindor Guard, can you?" Hermione blushed pink and Ron's ears went red.
"So, erm, do you really fancy being a curse-breaker?" Harry asked Anthony. "It seems pretty adventurous, you know." Anthony's scholarly brown eyes lit up.
"Yeah," he answered. "You get to see the treasures of the ancients in their original site. I'd like to write a book someday," he confided shyly, "a new wizarding history of the ancient empires. Think of it, all the magic we don't even have anymore, that was lost when the great library at Alexandria burned down, or all the stuff that's buried in archeological sites controlled by Muggle governments."
"That's the wole point of being a curse-breaker," Bill cut in. Everyone jumped, as they hadn't noticed he was listening to the conversation. "Getting by the Muggle authorities without them even knowing." Bill grinned and the mischievous gleam in his eyes was just exactly the same as the one in Fred and George's when they were about to unleash one of their more destructive jokes.
"I wish I could go on the tour, too," Ginny moaned softly. "It's not fair being stuck a whole year behind you lot."
Bill's face softened and he said indulgently, "Why not come? Ragnok won't mind if I bring my little sister, too."
Ginny clapped her hands happily and Harry hided a smile. One more score for the youngest and only Weasley girl.
At nine o'clock sharp, the eight Hogwarts students were standing inside the magnificent precincts of Gringotts Bank. Bill had left them to dry off near the entrance and was deep in talk with an older rather large and stout goblin that, Harry assumed must be Ragnok. He shivered and shook himself wishing the snow and sleet would cease. He didn't mind a good snowstorm so long as it was followed by a sunny day that was ripe for a good snowball fight. But the constant falling ice was another story. Seeing him shiver, Hermione flicked her wand and the air around them warmed perceptibly, so that they seemed to be standing in the middle of a warm sunny island.
Harry smiled gratefully at her and Anthony Goldstein exclaimed, "That's a rather useful little spell there. It's really surprising you weren't in Ravenclaw, you know."
Ron glared at Anthony. "The Sorting Hat is never wrong," he said. Harry said nothing, though there were times he had wondered about that. After all, the Sorting Hat had only put him in Gryffindor because he had told it not to put him in Slytherin. Did that mean that other students sometimes ended up in the wrong House, then?
Bill returned with the stout goblin and said, "Ragnok, I'd like to present to you our most promising group of Hogwarts students since my own class graduated."
They all straightened up proudly at that. As a teacher, Bill had been fair, but strict, and not overgiven to lavish praise. Bill named each of them one by one, and Harry was distinctly reminded of the Sorting Hat when he named Ron and Ginny and Ragnok's reaction was, "More Weasleys. Are you as good as your brother?"
He had to restrain a laugh though when Ron flushed and said, "Not as good yet," and Ginny said mischievously, "better!"
Ragnok did laugh at that, a deep laugh, right from the belly. Harry had a feeling of surprise at that and he felt that he could like the stout old goblin despite his wicked sharp teeth and the clever, almost wicked gleam in his eyes, that told you not to mess with this fellow. The clever eyes sharpened though, when Bill named Harry, and unexpectedly, Ragnok bowed and said, "The Boy Who Lived. That'd be a useful talent to have if you're interested in curse-breaking."
Then, as though he could not refrain from wanting his curiosity satisfied, Ragnok added, "So are you going to challenge He Who Must Not Be Named, eh? You'd be doing us all a favor, if you did. The exchange rates on gold are shockingly bad, and we had the devil of a time getting into the newest Viking trove last month. Muggle security is getting way too tight with You Know Who making chaos all over. Bad for business you, know, very bad."
Harry flushed and said, "No, I'm not challenging Voldemort anytime soon, if I can help it. I don't look that stupid, do I?"
"If you're brave enough to speak his name," Ragnok replied, "perhaps you're brave enough, or stupid enough to fight him again. Just do me a favor..."
But whatever the favor was, Harry never knew. A large contingent of wizards had entered the bank, though regular business hours did not begin for nearly another hour, and at their head was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
Ragnok walked up to Fudge and said very threateningly, "May I help you, Minister Fudge?"
Fudge, who was not very tall himself, looked down at Ragnok and said, "You may. By the order of the Wizengamot, the charter of Gringott's Bank has been revoked and Regulation One Thousand Six Hundred and Sixty-Seven has been passed, which states that control of all banks shall be in the hands of human wizards only. Accordingly, I must ask you and any of your other workers who are non-humans to exit quietly, so that the Ministry's appointed Banking Task Force can begin an accounting and take on new management."
"We will not leave," Ragnok answered. "We do not recognize the Ministry's power to regulate the bank. Gringotts has always been independent of any wizard Ministry or authority." The clever eyes narrowed and he added, "For just this reason: so that corrupt wizard authorities like you can't gain control of the flow of gold and treasure and choke off free enterprise in the magic communities."
Fudge flushed at that and said, "You will find that I do have the authority. Dawlish!" he said sharply, "Spread your men out and be sure to send out every last one of them."
The wizards, some of whom were aurors Harry recognized from past encounters with the Ministry, fanned out with their wands drawn. He took a step forward. This was all wrong, he thought. Dumbledore would never have approved of this. He would never have let this go through the Wizengamot. A hard hand clamped on his shoulder.
"Do nothing," Bill said. "This is not your fight."
"But..." Harry couldn't believe it.
Bill said softly to all of them, "I want you all to leave, right now. Harry and Ron, tell Mum what's going on and have her contact Dumbledore immediately."
But the doors to the Bank had swung shut with a thud and goblins were pouring out of the rear of the bank, dressed not in their usual bankers' robes, but in leather and chain mail and each of them carried a shining iron sword and a round studded shield. Bill cursed softly and said once more, "Do nothing!"
Then he walked out into the middle of the room and faced Fudge. "Minister Fudge, you must think twice before attempting this action," Bill said calmly. "I am quite sure that the full Wizengamot could not have voted for this. And I know that Dumbledore would not have supported it."
The goblins had lifted their swords, but Ragnok stayed them with a sharp gesture. "Step aside, Weasley," Ragnok said, "it's quite obvious that these humans wish to take away all of the few remaining rights and powers we goblins have. Do not place yourself into the middle of this."
"Not all humans, Ragnok," Bill answered. "Not all wizards. And I refuse to believe the full Wizengamot approved this until I see the order with the Chief's signature passing it." He turned to face Fudge and said, "Well, Minister Fudge? Do you have the order with Professor Dumbledore's signature on it? Last I heard, he was still the head of the Wizengamot."
"The statute was passed in special session last night," Fudge replied, “and as we had a quorum, and as this was accounted an Emergency, the signature of the Minister of Magic is sufficed. Now do step aside, Weasley," Fudge said coldly. "You do yourself and your father and brother no good if you persist in obstructing Ministry officials in the performance of their duties."
"My father and brother," Bill said coolly, "are not accountable for my actions. And as an employee of Gringotts, I support the current and legal management of the bank."
"Last I heard," Fudge, said, "you were employed as a teacher at Hogwarts. Is that not correct?"
Bill inclined his head and answered, "Only temporarily, and my term of appointment ends now, as I am resigning my position to take back up my place at the Bank. Now." Bill continued to stand calmly in the center of the room between the goblins and the Minister's aurors.
Harry took a step forward and so did Ron. Hermione grabbed them each by the arm and hissed quietly, "Don't. Bill gave you an order. Follow it for once!"
"I'm not leaving my brother to stand against them alone," Ron whispered back. Bill, however, had other ideas.
"As a last discharge of my duties to Hogwarts," he said, "I must ask you all to permit these students to leave now. They were here on an educational tour, and have no part in this argument."
Fudge's eyes lighted on their group and he paled slightly at the sight of them. Then he shook his head stubbornly and said, "They will leave shortly. As soon as you step aside and surrender the Bank to me and my men."
Nothing good could come of this confrontation, nothing, but someone's death and an irrepairable fracture in the magic community, One that Voldemort would surely exploit. The Ministry forces were strung out on one side and the goblins on the other, with Bill in the center, for the entire world as if they were a game of chess, and Harry feared, the centerpiece was the one, which was bound to be taken.
Ron, perhaps, had seen it too. He stirred and said softly, "Something has to be done. Something has to change this." From the Ministry side, the auror Dawlish had raised his wand into proper dueling position. In answer, from behind the first rank of goblins, a second row now raised bows armed with arrows, ready to shoot.
"Step aside, Bill," Ragnok said again. "I would not have the one human worth anything be killed in this. You cannot change their minds, their biases, or ours. It seems," he added dangerously, "that we must now seek our fortunes and our rights from the only other who would give us them."
Bill, however, did not move. "That must not be your option, Ragnok," he pleaded. "Dumbledore will fix this. You must believe me, not all wizards think as they do."
"Dumbledore!" said a soft girlish voice from the Ministry group. "We all know his ambitions. The Minister knows his ambitions." Hermione loosened her grip on Harry. Her face had gone white and furious as it had been the time she had smacked Draco Malfoy in the face.
"The fools!" she said. "Letting their bigtory and race prejudice wreck everything." She took a step forward, wand drawn, but Ron yanked her back.
"No, Hermione," he said quietly, "this is not your fight today. This is not like going down to the kitchens and telling the elves to ask for wages." Bill still had not moved, and Harry could only think that neither side was willing to make him the first victim. He wondered how long that could last or how long Ron could restrain Hermione.
Indeed, she had stamped her foot and said, "If not now, when it truly matters, when?"
And she pulled away again, only to be yanked back in again by Ron. Ron wrapped a long arm around her and held her to his chest. Her face was white with fury and Harry prayed someone would come, Dumbledore, anyone, before she could do something desperate enough to get herself injured or killed.
"Not you, Hermione," Neville said behind them. "Fudge will never listen to you." He started forward and stood next to Harry, and seemed to be nerving himself up to go forward, only Anthony Goldstein said, "He won't listen to you either Neville. The only one who has a chance of stopping this is Harry." Harry turned and gawked at Anthony, who said, almost apologetically, "You're The Boy Who Lived. They're all afraid of you. None of them will dare attack you. You're the only one who can stop it."
Harry stared a moment more and swallowed, then disregarding Hermione's sudden exclamation, "No, Harry!" he strode forward into the center of the room to stand between Bill and the Ministry forces.
"I told you to stay out of this!" Bill said.
"Potter, stay out of anything that will give him more press!" the girlish voice laughed again, and Harry thought furiously, there is the moving force behind this trap. He swung around and faced Fudge and Fudge flushed angrily and took a step back as though his pet dog had turned on him.
"Whose side are you on?" Fudge asked. "Do you betray us now, Potter?" Harry stared at Fudge and at the mousy brown head that hovered behind him and it took all of his hard-bitten lessons at Occlumency to keep his temper just then.
"I am on your side, Minister Fudge," he answered, and when the goblins behind him stirred and swords rang he swung back around and faced them and said,"And, I am on your side, Ragnok."
He turned then to face Fudge again and said, "I am on everyone's side but Voldemort's. I am for everyone, but Voldemort. And I see no one here who will benefit from this today, but Voldemort."
Fudge had drawn back at that and he said, with every appearance of reasonableness, "You cannot serve more than one master, Harry. You have already sworn an oath of service. I would ask you to fulfill that oath."
"Oh, I am," Harry answered, "the best way that I can, by stopping this. You have let your fears be played on, sir, by advisors who would poison your mind. They have deceived you; they have manipulated you, to bring you to this pass. And why? To serve their own agenda, one that would split the magic community into wizards and everyone else. We should be, as the fountain in the Ministry, brethren with the other magical races. We should be united against Voldemort; not divided and warring amongst ourselves. If you carry out this action, you will turn them, who should be our friends and brothers and fellow soldiers, into Voldemort's tools."
He swung around again and said to Ragnok directly, "You are also deceived. Voldemort owns no one as his equal. Not even his own Death Eaters. There is only Voldemort and his slaves. If you turn to him, he will use you and destroy you altogether, because he will not bear any division of his power. None."
A laugh rang out again, a feminine laugh, but not the breathy girlish one he would have expected. To his far left, another figure had emerged, the savagely beautiful Bellatrix Lestrange. "Dumbledore has taught you well, baby Potter," the Death Eater, said. "You make such noble speeches. And you are so easily manipulated yourself, are you not, by your own nobility."
She raised her wand and pointed it at him and he understood then that the whole thing had been aimed at him. Bellatrix laughed again and said, "So you see, the Dark Lord always times these things just right. All it took, was knowing you had submitted your name for the tour, and so easily, did we set you up, for one more, one last heroic stand."
Harry threw himself to the side to dodge the green light of the Killing Curse, which struck the marble floor and blew a hole right in the middle of it, just in the place he had been a moment before. Half of the Ministry forces were now backing away towards the door behind them. One of the goblins shot an arrow at Bellatrix, but it was deflected by a shield spell from the Death Eater. Harry rolled back up and drew his wand, and Neville had come streaking forward to throw another spell at Bellatrix, which she deflected again and followed up with incredible speed with another that knocked Neville to the ground and flung him over and over, such was its power.
Harry aimed a stunning spell at her, but it missed as she was moving forward. The auror, Dawlish, had aimed another spell at her, which she also deflected. Then, from the other side of the room, another spell struck Dawlish, the Killing Curse, and Dawlish fell over, his eyes wide open and empty.
Both the Ministry forces and the goblins were backing away now, as Death Eaters were closing in from both sides. Bellatrix had lifted her wand again, only a small red haired form came forward and Bellatrix shrieked as her ruined beauty was further marred by a flock of bats flappping on her face. In other circumstances, Harry would have laughed, but now he was filled with horror. He dove at Ginny and knocked her flat just as another Killing Curse flew at them. He could feel it, the cool rush of death streaking by, and his scar erupted in pain.
From the far side of the room, opposite Bellatrix Lestrange, a tall hooded form emerged. Harry rolled up and pulled Ginny to her feet and shoved her over to Bill, who had shot off several stunners from behind him.
"Get them out of here," he said to Bill, "fast."
The hood fell from the tall black robed man, but Harry didn't need to see his face or the red glow of his eyes to know whom it was. A deathly silence had descended, as no one was willing to draw the fatal attention of the Dark Lord. Voldemort advanced toward him and Harry turned to face him. The red eyes glanced down and the wand lifted. Neville was still face down and in his path.
"Leave him!" Harry said. "I'm the one you want. And I'll give you what you want, what you've been planning for." He raised his wand and pointed it directly at Voldemort and said, "I challenge you, Tom Riddle, to a wizard's duel. Just you against me, and nobody else may interfere."
"Very good," Voldemort replied smilingly. "You have grown, Harry Potter. Almost, you make a worthy opponent, now you are near to being a man." Voldemort smiled again and shoved Neville's still form aside with his foot and paced two steps nearer, so that only two steps separated them.
Too close, even, for a proper duel, Harry could not but notice that they were nearly the same height now, but the fingers that were wrapped around the yew wand were still the same, white and long and spidery. He held the red eyed gaze and threw every ounce of strength into shoring up the wall in his mind. His scar burned, a steady, piercing ache, but he ignored that, too.
Voldemort stopped smiling and examined him minutely. The glowing gaze wandered from Harry's untidy black hair, to his scar, which continued to pulse with a life of its own, to the holly wand, which Harry had aimed directly at Voldemort's heart.
"Yes," he mused, "you have grown. I can, of course, kill you, but that would be such a waste, would it not?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at his enemy, and had nearly decided to take the first shot, though proper dueling practice dictated the challenged person could go first.
But Voldemort continued, "Yes, you have everything that most men desire, do you not? Youth, and beauty and power. I remember well what it was like to be young like you. I should like to have that youth again. Truly," Voldemort remarked, "it would be a waste to kill you. You see, Harry, how all these mediocre wizards cower before you? You and I are more alike than you think. You are, in truth, my twin. You are as near to me as a brother. Shall we not join hands and turn the world upside down? We, together, shall bestride the world and tame it, master it, so that the entire world bows before the power of magic. No longer shall we wizards hide in small places, in the misty shadows. No, we shall have an end to secrecy and rule all, as we were destined to do." Voldemort took one pace closer and reached out a long arm and placed a hand on Harry's cheek.
"You see," he said smilingly, "are we not one?"
"You lie," Harry answered. "You have always lied. You lie when you tell the goblins they will have their rights. You lie when you say the same to the giants. You lie to them all. You lie now. You would never share, nor give. You are nothing but falsehoods and lies."
The red eyes glowed and Voldemort said, "You wish that were so, Harry, do you not? You know the truth as well was I. The Curse that Failed binds our fate together. And I shall have you one way or the other, either as brother and partner, or as vessel for my victory."
If Harry had thought the pain in his scar was great before, it was nothing to the agony that came after. Voldemort had not lifted his hand from Harry's face, and Harry seized hold of it with his free one. Volodemort touched his wand right to Harry's heart, but he did not seem to attack.
Instead, a blue-white light ran up Voldemort's hand where it lay upon Harry's cheek and raced up the dark wizard's arm. The pain in Harry's head increased and the world began to darken as the wall in his mind began to crumble. The red eyes glowed ever more brightly and Harry screamed out then, in a final gasp of pain and defiance, "NEVER! I WILL NEVER JOIN YOU! I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU!"
The pain increased, but Voldemort had screamed with him. Abruptly, Voldemort staggered back away from him and bellowed in fury. "Die, then, you foolish boy! Die!" The doors of the bank were flung open wide and Dumbledore apparated right in front of Harry.
"You shall have to kill me first, then, Tom," Dumbledore replied.
"No! Professor, don't," Harry, cried out. He opened his eyes and tried to focus back through the dark.
Dumbledore said calmly, "Well, Tom? Look at your hand, and see the ancient power you have always denied."
Voldemort raised a trembling hand and blood dripped from the blisters that covered it. Furiously, he said, "You will rue the day you refused my offer, Potter. And the next time, you will beg me for death. That I promise you." Dumbledore had raised his wand, but before he could get off a spell, Voldemort had disapparated, and the other Death Eaters followed.
Harry's face was now stark white and his eyes were not entirely focused. The lightning scar stood out, a livid streak on his forehead, and you had to wonder how he was still standing.
"How did you know, how did you get here?" Harry whispered hoarsely to Dumbledore. The elderly wizard places a steadying hand on Harry's elbow and said clearly, "I have just come from the full session of the Wizengamot. The order that was given in the closed special session last evening has been struck and I must ask you, all of you, to please return to the Ministry where we can sort things out there."
"But Dumbledore--" Fudge said. The Minister pulled out a snowy handkerchief and mopped his brow. "You see them, look, they are armed. They were prepared to go over to You Know Who." The goblins, which had seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at Dumbledore's words, now returned to their former positions, swords drawn and bows raised.
"And you have seen that Voldemort cares no more for them than he does for anyone but himself and his power," Dumbledore answered. "They do only as you yourself would, if someone entered the Ministry and attempted to force you out Cornelius. Give over and reassure Ragnok and his men that we will not threaten their rights and livelihood any further."
A girlish voice sounded again then. Dripping with sickly sweet honey, Umbridge said, "But why were they armed to begin with, Dumbledore? Perhaps you have grown dim of sight. Perhaps you trust too far, where your ideals would carry you. Were they not already preparing a new rebellion? Was that not the reason they had arms so readily prepared?"
A wave of unreasoning fury gripped Hermione for the second time that day. She strode forward and said furiously, "You are the reason they were armed, Dolores Umbridge. You and those who would inflict your bigotry and hatred on the rest of us. You planted the rumors that the Bank's charter would be revoked, and when the goblins did what anyone would do, prepared to defend the little they owned, you persuaded the Minister that they were a threat and to do exactly as the rumor you invented had suggested."
Fudge backed away a step from Umbridge and said, "I say, Dolores. That's not true, is it?"
"Of course not, Minister," Umbridge answered. But her pouchy eyes were full of malice as she added, "Little Miss Know-all here thinks she can play in the big league. She's quite good at inventing likely tales."
"As likely a tale as Voldemort's return?" Harry said quietly. The toadlike face turned to Harry, and if there had been malice in Umbridge's eyes when she had looked at Hermione, there was pure, undiluted hatred when she looked at Harry.
But Fudge was looking at Umbridge with new eyes. He looked from Dumbledore to Harry to Ragnok and then to Umbridge, and you could see it, the wheels of the politician turning, as he cut his losses and caught onto the safety net that would keep him in power just a little while longer.
"This is most unfortunate," Fudge said. "I fear there will have to be an investigation, Miss Umbridge, and you will be relieved of your post immediately. Ragnok old fellow, I do hope you'll understand, we were given false information. Put down your arms and my men will leave.”
Fudge waved his hand and the Ministry people began to clear out, some of them nearly running for it while the way was open. Harry moved again then, and for a moment Hermione feared he had collapsed. Instead, he took a step and sank down to his knees beside Neville and turned him over.
He laid a hand on Neville's face, and Hermione was shocked and even more terrified to see a trickle of tears running down his white face and dropping onto Neville's. "Don't be dead, Neville," he said, "please, don't be dead."
Dumbledore knelt beside Harry and waved his wand over Neville. "He's not dead," Dumbledore said calmly, "Only stunned." Dumbledore flicked his wand and said, "Ennervate," and Neville opened his eyes.
"I'm all right," Neville stuttered. "But she, did she get away?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "So did Voldemort. But it's okay. You saved my life, Neville. You were great."
Neville gawped at Harry and at Dumbledore, who helped Neville get up. Harry, however, remained kneeling, and Hermione thought again that he must be on the verge of keeling over. He did not appeared to be injured at all, yet he looked as though he was barely hanging on to consciousness, so great was his pallor.
Dumbledore had noticed, too, for he drew Harry back up and said, "Ragnok, I must see to my students, but I will return to speak to you and Minister Fudge later." Dumbledore's eyes were unusually dark as he glanced at the crowd that had formed outside the open doors of the bank.
Then a faint twinkle reappeared and he added, "And Ragnok, I do think you might want to put the armor away. There are an awful lot of people lined up to do business here so they can finish their holiday shopping."
The stout goblin advanced forward and said, "We shall be wanting a long talk, Dumbledore. A very long one. In the meantime, all of you, return to your posts and open as quickly as possible for business." Then Ragnok turned to Harry and said, "We are in debt to you, Harry Potter. If ever you have need of assistance, you may call on me." And he bowed, as proudly as any wizard might when saluting another.
"Thanks," Harry said, "It goes two ways, you know. I always come when my friends need me."
He inclined his head and Hermione thought if he had bowed deeper he would have fallen. Dumbledore smiled grimly and led Harry out the door keeping a grip on his elbow. The crowd parted as they came out and Hermione and the others followed in their wake. Parvati took Neville by the arm and Ron wrapped his arm back around Hermione's shoulder. She considered throwing it off, as she was still quite angry that he had held her back in the first place.
But he whispered, "You are so barmy, Hermione. Only you would go running out and lecture the Minsistry over goblin rights in the middle of a war."
"Oh," she whispered back, "what about Harry? Look at him!"
"Yeah," Ron said, "he was great. He knew just what to say cause he's heard you going on about it a billion times." Then he cast a worried glance at Harry's back and said, "What do you reckon is wrong with him? You don't think he's hurt do you?"
"I don't know," she answered. The admiration in Ron's voice had soothed her annoyance and her worry for Harry was now stronger than any lingering resentment at being kept out of the fight.
Dumbledore cut through the crowd and led them directly back to the entrance to Diagon Alley and through to the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley had caught up with them and she was fussing up a storm until Dumbledore said, "Softly, Molly. Everything is fine, but I want to get Harry out of here immediately."
The elderly wizard kept going straight through the inn and stopped again suddenly as he spotted Edgar Bones sitting at the bar.
"I heard there's been a bit of a to do?" Bones asked.
"Voldemort has been here and attacked Harry," Dumbledore answered.
"Riddle?" Bones said. He stood up, knocking over his beer and reached for his wand, and next to him, his blonde Muggle partner reached into her purse and brought out a gun.
"You won't be needing that," Dumbledore said, "Voldemort left when he could not kill Harry. But I could use some help here. Would you be so kind as to give Harry a ride in your car, please? I think he's had enough for the day."
Bones stood up, and shaking his head, led them out to the street in front of the Leaky Cauldron where a sleek silver car was parked. He opened the rear door and Ginny darted inside ahead of everyone. For a minute, Hermione could have sworn Dumbledore looked thoroughly annoyed and out of temper. Then amusement softened his old face and he helped Harry slide in the rear.
"I'll be by to see you shortly," he said calmly. "I must settle this business with the Minister." He turned to Bones and said very quietly, "Grimmauld Place. Take him there and wait for me. Molly will see that the children's belongings are brought by later." Hermione slipped in the back on the other side of Harry and Ron looked utterly put out as the tall blond Sergeant got into the front bucket seat leaving nowhere for him to fit.
However, Dumbledore touched him on the shoulder and said, "I'd like your help here, too."
Ron straightened up and said proudly, "Yes, sir. Anything." Then he poked his head back in and said to Harry, "Listen, mate, don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay?"
Harry didn't reply, but a corner of his mouth tipped up in a tiny, weary grin.
