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SIYE Time:4:39 on 29th March 2024
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Grey Maiden V: Sacrifice
By Chris Widger

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Violence
Rating: R
Reviews: 114
Summary: After 13 years, Lord Voldemort has risen again, and set his sights on conquering the Wizarding world. All that may stand in his way is Harry Potter, who must heal, train, and learn the lessons of life on the fly, while friendship, romance, alliances, and his own life hang in the balance. On top of all of this, Harry must cope with the consequences of his guardian’s inevitable fall into Darkness, and a Ministry determined to bury the truth.
Hitcount: Story Total: 92795; Chapter Total: 4396







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Chapter 15: Turning Point

“Hold still, Mr. Potter, or you will be here for much longer than you’d like,” Madam Pomfrey chided him. Harry winced as she cleaned off his various wounds, though by far the most serious was the shoulder injury that Giselle had spotted earlier. She was worked on that one now, using some foul-smelling purple liquid to clean out the wound before she would seal in with a Healing Spell. It burned and hissed when it made contact with the gash.

“Ow,” Harry complained, trying to hold still.

“It’s a deep wound, Mr. Potter, and because you were sitting around for so long it’s likely to be infected by now. Actually, I’m sure it is. There are pieces of debris lodged in it, and that’s what I’m trying to eradicate. You won’t like the consequences if I seal the wound now.”

“I know, I know. Just…go ahead.”

Madam Pomfrey gave him a skeptical look, and dabbed more purple liquid onto his shoulder. “Alright, that should do it. You’re lucky, Potter. This gash nearly made it all the way to the bone. All the ligaments and tendons seem to be intact. Rotator cuff looks to be fine. All in all, I’d say this was one of the less severe injuries I’ve ever treated on you.”

She waved her wand, and Harry felt his shoulder burn momentarily as skin and muscle were knitted back together. “There we go. Your leg wound is just a scratch, no need to worry about it. You’re intact Potter. Feel free to go out and damage yourself some more.”

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, hopping off the bed. He flexed his right shoulder. It was stiff, but nothing to be terribly concerned about. Poppy Pomfrey was a very capable Mediwitch.

Harry looked around the overcrowded Hospital Wing. Some of the beds were occupied by students, including Hermione, Lisa, and Ron, who’d suffered some minor injuries from being tossed around a bit, but had emerged mostly unscathed. A number of Hogsmeade residents were also being treated here. The more severe cases, and there were a few, had been evacuated to St. Mungo’s. He made his way to his friend’s bedside. She was staring at him, eyes unfocused, sitting up with her back against the headboard of the bed. Because she was clearly concussed, Madam Pomfrey wasn’t going to take any chances that she might fall asleep, which might send her into a coma. As good as magic was at healing flesh wounds, neurological damage was much more complex, and it was the near-unanimous opinion of the Wizarding world’s medical professionals that nothing did a better job of healing brain injuries than the body of the person involved. He waved as he approached. Lisa was also wide-awake and looking at him strangely. She waved back, perhaps thinking that the gesture was meant for her. “Hey Harry. How are you?” He moved toward her bed, dropping into a chair next to it.

“Been better, but seem to have made it out in one piece. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by a lorry.”

Harry gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry you had to get dragged into all of this.”

The Ravenclaw shrugged. “Potter, there’s no use blaming yourself. You did your best, and you got Hermione and me out alive.”

Harry bit his lip, not saying a number of the things that were pounding through his brain. They wouldn’t have been there if it were not for me. Do you remember being knocked out near Zonkos? You weren’t, you were dumped there as part of a deliberate trap for yours truly. That’s twice I’ve nearly gotten you killed, how can you be so charitable to me.

Lisa, always quite sharp, seemed to sense what he was thinking. “Harry, I know that you are trying to take responsibility for this, and I don’t know the whole story, but the reason those people are trying to kill you is because you are the only one that can stop the Darkness. You are our hero, even if you’ve got a ways to go before you feel like one. And…and if I die fighting by your side, I’ll have died an honorable and worthy death, at least.”

Harry was floored by her proclamation. “Well, thank Merlin it wasn’t this time,” was all he could come up with. “That…that means a lot to me, Lisa. With our history and all…”

“Don’t go there,” the Ravenclaw snapped. “Just don’t. That wasn’t you.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Potter, you saved my life today.”

“I also got you into a life-threatening situation in the first place.”

“No, I did that. I could have run, but Hermione wanted to keep some of the younger students safe and I stayed behind, shooting off pathetic little hexes as if I really knew what I was doing. Some Ravenclaw I am.”

“Hey, one thing I’ve learned over and over is that the whole House thing isn’t as clear cut as you might imagine. We all have aspects of each house, because they all represent qualities in every human being.”

Lisa blinked. “Did you hear that somewhere or did you pull that out of your arse?”

“The latter,” Harry said, grinning.

“Well, it sounded damn good, Potter. I guess my Gryffindor side got a workout today.”

“Maybe Hufflepuff as well. You stayed with Hermione.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She looked at him. “We…as in the Ravenclaws, haven’t seen much of you in quite a while, Harry. Any particular reason for that?”

“My life has rapidly spun out of control?” Harry offered. “I’ll…I’ll try to make more of an effort. I ought to be able to find you in the Library on weekends, no?”

“Certainly. We’ve got a veritable party going on most Sunday evenings. Terry, Padma, Mandy, Michael…both of them, actually. We might be bookish, Potter, but that doesn’t mean we don’t procrastinate like mad.” She smiled. “We just waste our time in other scholarly pursuits.”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, yes, don’t doubt me. Last weekend I stayed up until 4 o’clock Monday writing a Potions essay because I’d spent the lionshare of the weekend reading up on an archeological excavation of a wizard’s stronghold in Wales from the 1st century A.D. Interesting connection between Celtic druidism and modern magical practice, though equally surprising was the amount that was just Muggle superstition. At least, according to a few of the authors I read. A couple of them swear by tree spirits.”

Harry marveled at her. “I think you just provided a textbook example of completely useless information.”

Lisa grinned. “It was fun. Some of the sources are damn near unintelligible. Had to get some help from a 7th year who specializes in Ancient Runes. Even then, half of it didn’t make sense. Just made the rest of it that much more exciting.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m a Ravenclaw, Potter, and damn proud of it. Lifelong collectors of the obscure and the arcane, that’s us.”

“In all seriousness though, I will try to drop by sometimes. I think…I think I could use a break from everything, hang out with some friends just for the heck of it, you know.”

“You’re more than welcome. But remember, we are Ravenclaws. We love fun, but we’re not hanging out in the Library for the heck of it. Common Room is much more comfortable, just a tad noisy.”

“Even you?”

“Oh yeah. You’d think that the studious house would have a neat, orderly, peaceful setup, don’t you? Not so much. The firsties are mostly to blame, but it’s sort of a little tradition to let them have their way. I mean, few of them are initially able to really deal with the kind of work you need to put in to be a real Ravenclaw. They need time to unwind, chase each other about with pillows, that sort of thing. Who knows? The next person you brain might turn into your best friend. That’s how I got to know Terry so well, once I’d helped him off the ground.”

Harry shook his head in amazement. He glanced back at Hermione, but her eyes were closed and she’d turned away from him. He hoped it wasn’t anything he’d done. He would have a good talk with her once he was able. “I should be moving along. It was nice to talk to you, Lisa. Hope the next time I see you isn’t so…traumatic.”

“Sounds fantastic to me…and Harry, what I said before…I meant it. Really. I don’t know why it came out, or why I phrased it as I did, but I meant every word. One thing today made me realize is that as a Muggleborn witch I’ve got a big target on my back. I don’t…I don’t mean to put even more pressure on you. Actually, I want to do the opposite. You have friends in Ravenclaw. Maybe we doubted you at first, and some of us have said very unfair things in the past. But we’re nothing if not constantly thinking, Potter, and it’s our general conclusion: you are a fine bloke who sometimes makes mistakes but it still deserving of our support. Everything happens to you, Harry. That cannot be an accident.”

“I wish it were,” he whispered. “Thanks. I’ll try to see you soon. Thank the others…for having faith in me, I suppose.”

“There are some that really are not fond of you, Harry, just so you know. Morag McDougal basically decided you were a narcissistic danger to all during your Second Year, he hasn’t changed his opinion.”

“Honestly, Lisa,” Harry said, reflecting back on his eventful and controversial Hogwarts career, “that’s sort of to be expected at this point.” He noticed a blotch of red hair a couple beds down. “I’ve got to go. Rest up, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Sure thing, Harry. Oh, could you get the book out of my purse?”

Harry did so, taking a gander at it as he handed it to her, “1001 Scarcely Known Facts about Medieval Wizarding England,” he read. “You are such a nerd.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Potter. That’s quite a compliment.” Lisa busied herself with her reading, and Harry moved on. Ron was awake, rolling around and staring at the ceiling. He rolled to face him as he approached.

“Oh boy. Come to chew me out for being an idiot, then?”

Harry laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. “What you did out there was pretty damn brave. Stupid, yes, but brave. You are lucky to be alive.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ron muttered. “You were…you were pretty damn impressive out there, Potter. I didn’t think you had a chance.”

“I didn’t,” Harry said firmly. “I got lucky, and managed not to get myself killed making a truly elementary tactical mistake. We’re alive because they were stupid and failed to watch for new threats, focusing, obsessing even, on me. They aren’t always going to make that mistake.”

“Damn, Pot…Harry,” Ron said, trying the name out. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on yourself? I mean, weren’t they gunning for you? Don’t you think this would have happened one way or the other? You saved Hermione from something truly awful. That’s courage, Harry. That’s an accomplishment. Me…I just threw myself into that mess, into water way over my head. I guess I’m just impulsive like that…when it feels like the right thing to do, I just do it, damn the odds.”

Harry looked away. “Hermione wouldn’t have been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Ron scoffed. “Really, you are going to go with that defense? How about the Turpin girl? Who knows what those bastards might have done to her. She’s not that close to you. I mean, three years ago, you petrif…oh, sorry…” Ron had stopped, presumably because he’d seen the look of abject guilt that had fallen, unbidden, upon Harry’s features. “Damn, that was insensitive.”

Harry smiled despite the anguish he felt. “A bit.”

“Yeah…” the redhead ran a hand through his hair. “You know, I never did…well, forgive you for that…I mean, I did, but I never said as such, you know.”

Harry eyed him curiously. “I heard from Hermione you were rather furious. I believe you kept going even after Snape threatened to skin you alive.”

“I was stupid. And angry. And scared. I said a lot of things, did a lot of things, to you, to Ginny, to Hermione, that were just wrong. I may not really like you, Harry. You seem well on your way to being a Dark wizard, and I don’t like that one bit. And you are a Slytherin, and a pretty nasty one at that. But what happened to you that year wasn’t your fault. I…I guess I’ll just come out and say it…I forgive you, Harry. And I’m sorry for all the hell I’ve put you and your friends through all these years. I was an idiot.”

Harry blinked. “Ron…I really appreciate this…but why now? What’s changed? I want to believe you, want to trust that you’ve grown up a bit…but why the change of heart, and why haven’t you told me until now.”

“Because I saw you, Harry.” Ron’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “I saw Harry Bloody Potter run into the middle of a war zone to try to help people, drag along a useless idiot like me, and then I saw him hold off a score of Death Eaters without receiving a scratch. I don’t care if you think it was nothing but luck,” he said, responding to Harry’s shaking head. “What I saw out there, along with some of what Bill’s been saying to me all these years, just made me realize that I’d been wrong from the start. What you did today was worthy of the best Gryffindor has to offer. Maybe that’s an insult for you lot, but it’s the highest praise you can get from me.”

Harry was speechless. “I…I don’t really know how to respond to that. Thank you for believing in me. Don’t…don’t think too much of what you saw today, though. I did get lucky, and there was a whole lot of me that wanted to run for safety.”

“But you didn’t,” Ron insisted. “You went back. You didn’t even know that Hermione was in danger, not until I told you.”

Harry smiled bitterly. “Perhaps I went back more out of a desire to prove myself more than genuine courage.”

Ron shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think so.” He reached his hand out. “I’ve got your back, Harry, if you’ll have me.”

Harry hesitated. Ronald Wesley had helped make his First Year a living hell, and hadn’t really improved from there so much as Harry had been able to reduce the impact of Ron’s callous and malicious behavior. But when he looked into the boy’s eyes, he saw nothing but regret and honesty, and a determination that this would be the end of their antagonistic relationship. Harry took his hand, squeezing hard. “I’ll have you, Weasley, though I haven’t the slightest clue why.”

Ron smiled. “Well, I guess it’s up to me to prove you made the right choice.”

“I want to believe that, Ron. I’ll give you a chance, because having you as my enemy is damned inconvenient, and well, maybe Ginny could use some good news of reconciliation between us. She’s been looking for a reason for years now; she hates being your enemy. I just…I don’t know if she’ll be so willing to forgive me. I’m not family.”

“I know. And, Harry…look, I don’t know what happened with you two…I probably don’t want to know everything. But I think that you care about her, and you would never mean to hurt her. So…I’ll reserve judgment on that, okay? I’ll leave it to my sister to figure out what should happen.”

Harry was appalled by Ron’s maturity, and sought to remedy the situation with juvenile teasing. “Your mother must be so proud…Ickle Ronniekins is all growed up.”

Ron swatted at him. “Hey! You are not allowed to call me that.”

“Try and stop me,” Harry dared. They were arguing, but for the first time it was just playful banter. “I’ll see you around, Ronniekins.”

“You too, Harrikins.”

Harry turned. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

“Give me some time.”


Harry wandered down the corridor, headed for the Room of Requirement. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted of the magic there just yet, but a break from the bustling chaos around him would be greatly appreciated. It was Valentine’s Day, a day he’d been looking forward to for the first part of the term, and dreading for the rest. He needed a chance to think, to contemplate, to talk himself off the proverbial edge with the unmatched power of reason. He’d always been good at that. He had to be, really. Of course, as this was Harry, things didn’t go quite as planned.

The Room was occupied. That could mean a number of things. There were only a small number of people who knew about it, and even fewer that knew how to get in. Hermione was in Hospital Wing, Ginny never came except for DA meetings, Neville rarely came without Hermione…he considered the possibility it was one of the older generation…Remus…Sirius…Daphne? He wasn’t sure he was in any state to confront the latter. And he had to confront her. What had happened with Ginny had demonstrated, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Harry’s judgment had been badly compromised by his relationship and history with his guardian. Normally, he supposed, that wouldn’t be anything remarkable or objectionable, merely being a side effect of a strong mother-son bond. But neither Harry nor Daphne was normal, and the consequences of Daphne’s actions…and Harry’s — especially the ones he had yet to make — were much more far-reaching than usual.

Now there’s a understatement.

It was very much possible for someone in the Room to prevent anyone outside the Room from entering. Indeed, Harry had recently managed to keep the door locked for certain people and open for others, quite useful in clandestine meetings like the ones held weekly here, the time chosen quite literally at random. In this case, however, the door was practically beckoning to him to open it. That was very odd. When he opened the door and saw the occupants, it didn’t seem nearly as bizarre.

“Hello Harry James Potter,” Luna Lovegood said brightly. Harry’s eyes were first drawn to the truly garish robe she was wearing. It was as if she’d picked ever single color clash imaginable, somehow formed that idea into a spell, and blasted at her school robes until she had an outfit that could make eyes bleed. Rather typical Luna, really.

“Now that isn’t fair,” Harry replied calmly. His eyes widened a bit when he saw the other occupant, hunched uncomfortably on a worn brown couch, a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know your middle name, Luna Lovegood.”

“Apples.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. That was strange, even by Luna’s standards. Then again, he’d never met her parents. “Really?”

“No, but it would be a nice middle name to have.”

“Sounds more like a nickname.”

“Hmmm…perhaps so. I know! Call me Fraggletoes.”

“Luna Fraggletoes Lovegood?” Harry grinned. “It’s got a bit of a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“I rather think so,” Luna said, completely serious. She blinked. “You weren’t expecting us.”

“No, I can’t say I was.”

“Well, we weren’t expecting you, so I suppose that makes us even…assuming, of course, you are you. Tullybats are about. Can’t be too careful.”

“Suppose not. Well, to the best of my knowledge, I am who I say I am.”

“Well, given that you don’t really know who you are, that’s hardly true,” she replied cryptically. “But that’s proof enough.”

Luna’s logic didn’t really follow there, but he let it go. “Hello Peter,” he said to the boy on the couch.”

“Harry,” he replied cautiously, taking a sip of his tea.

“I see you’ve kept up with Luna. Sorry I haven’t been around much.” As if on cue, Luna sat down next to him, staring back at Harry with bright and inquisitive eyes.

“Saving the world must take up a fair bit of time.”

“It can, yeah. Are things going any better for you?”

“I’ve gone from being tormented to being ignored and hissed at from a distance. I suppose it’s an improvement.”

Harry sighed. “You’ve got some nasty ones in your year, mate. Sorry about that…have you been practicing?”

Peter hesitated. Harry sensed his anxiety. “It’s alright,” he told the younger boy softly. “You just have to understand that what you can do is pretty incredible. I’ve found that I can move object too, but with all the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. I can brute force a whole lot of things, telekinesis included. But I can’t do what you do.”

“Do you even know how I do it?”

Harry shook his head. “I’d love to learn.”

“Don’t think you can,” Peter replied simply. “It’s…it’s something I just don’t think you can do. I don’t mean to be insulting or anything it’s just…Harry, you look at the world and more often than not, you see a whole lot more than what’s directly in front of you. You are always thinking about the bigger situation, the things that are happening where you aren’t.”

“He’s right, mostly,” Luna said. “It isn’t your place.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Harry said.

“Why would you? I haven’t really told you anything!” Peter exclaimed. He was clearly a bit agitated. Well, he was always agitated, but this seemed a little more acute than normal.

“What do you see, then?”

“I see everything, Harry…just not the same way. I see…it’s like when I close my eyes and really focus, I can see what everything is made of. Just little spots, atoms, particles.”

“That’s…interesting,” Harry admitted. “How does that play into your abilities?”

“Luna was trying to help me figure that out,” he admitted. He frowned, looking at Luna. “I didn’t really understand some of your analogies. Probably because you were talking about animals and creatures that don’t exist.”

“They exist…” Luna insisted. Her voice wasn’t angry or offended. She was merely stating a fact, one that she was happy to believe (or at least pretend she did,) even if no one else was.

“Peter, you’re hardly alone in that,” Harry said, deliberately ignoring Luna. He was impressed by how much the boy was opening up. He also looked considerably less like a street rat. “You do seem to be looking a lot better.”

“Ginny’s been taking care of me, making sure that I eat, sleep, threatening to hex Lysetta…she’s been sort of like my Mum…well, not my Mum, but…you know what I mean. And Anne sort of flattened Hazel.” He grinned. “They’ve left me alone since then.”

It felt very, very strange to Harry that he was only learning about this now, but given that he and Ginny didn’t actually talk anymore, should that really be surprising? Her actions weren’t; Ginny had become a bona-fide Slytherin, but one that never checked her compassion at the door. She was still Ginny Weasley, whatever House she was in. That multifaceted nature had been, Harry mused, one of the reasons he’d liked her so much…

“She talks about you sometimes, you know.”

Harry shook himself out of his musings and tried to keep his composure. It had been a while since he’d really thought about Ginny - more specifically, how much he really did miss her. “Does she?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. Harry waited for more, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Refusing to allow himself to appear desperate, he tried to push away the anxiety and sorrow he was feeling.

“It doesn’t really help, does it?” Luna asked.

“Not really, no.”

Peter frowned, and then seemed to come to a realization. “So she does that to you as well?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Luna insisted.

“You get used to it eventually,” said Harry. “It’s just…a different way of communicating.”

“Except you don’t really know if communication is taking place.”

“Well, yes, it has its flaws, but I suppose I just imagine that Luna could be in my mind at any moment.”

Peter stared. “And you still trust her? You aren’t frightened of her? You, of all people, would seem to have secrets that no one should know.”

“I trust Luna with my life. More than that, actually. I trust her with my mind. My sanity. You see, during my Second Year, I suffered significant psychological and mental trauma. My mind was shattered, and I really didn’t have the ability to put it completely back together again. Luna had me fixed in under five minutes.”

“What else was a friend to do?” she asked, obviously having no idea how absurd it sounded.

“Oh. Wow.”

“I want to be a friend to everyone. But they are more interested in playing games. I don’t really like most of those games,” Luna said softly.

“Well, I’m your friend,” Peter said, reaching out and hugging her around the shoulders. Luna smiled contentedly, leaning back into him, purring like a cat. Peter seemed a bit confused by that, but seemed to like where he was. Harry smiled a bit at that. Luna was sort of seeing Neville…actually, it wasn’t completely clear what the situation was there, except that there was mutual interest and a tremendous amount of awkwardness on Neville’s side. In any case, Luna was an odd bird. Normal rules and expectations just didn’t really apply to her.

Without warning, the door swung open, and Daphne Greengrass strode through, followed by Theodore Nott, who glanced around the room, looking rather impressed. Harry was immediately on his guard; Daphne had come to a few DA meetings, more just to see what was happening than anything else, but Nott hadn’t been here in Harry’s knowledge. And, though he acknowledged that his family ties might have quite a bit to do with it, Harry didn’t trust him, or particularly like him. His humanity seemed to come and go in a way that unnerved many around him.

Greengrass strode towards him with a purpose, stopping a couple of feet short. “I just received an owl from my father. It’s started, but Umbridge needs to be neutralized. This operation relies on total secrecy, and she has the ability to throw everything out of kilter.”

“Does Dumbledore know?”

Daphne shrugged. “I suspect so. I believe he and my father spoke in the last week, based on some of the things I’ve heard in his letters. We are not going to directly involve him in this.”

“Snape or McGonagall?”

Daphne shook her head firmly. “Alright,” Harry relented.

“Let me get this straight,” Peter said, rising from the couch. “You three are going to march into Professor Umbridge’s office and take her prisoner? Are you completely mad?”

Daphne regarded the boy with a sneer. “You must be that Mud…Muggle-born,” she corrected, remembering Harry’s presence, which he found rather odd. Greengrass didn’t usually care about offending him. “Peter Lowry, right? I heard you have been causing trouble with the First Years.”

“Believe me, it’s the other way around,” Harry told her. “Well…Ginny did step in at one point, but I don’t really know about the details.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t. Sometimes I wonder if you forget your House loyalties,” she snapped with a certain edge that made Harry very cross. He controlled his emotions, taking in some deep breaths.

“There is no need for this now. We have a job to do.”

“So that’s the plan?” Peter asked. “You’ll be expelled!”

“Greater things are going on here, greater than you’ll ever know, kid,” she almost spat. Daphne got very nasty when she was on edge, Harry noticed. She turned back to him. “We need to move, now. It took me ages to find you. Father has already left for the Ministry. In minutes, Fudge will be removed from office. Get a move on it, Potter!”

“Just the three of us?” Harry asked. “Are you sure? Hermione would…”

“I really couldn’t care less what that girl would want. She is unnecessary. We are Slytherins. Politics and manipulation is our calling. We don’t need Gryffindors to get things done.”

Harry’s blood ran hot at the insinuations that Greengrass was making, but he knew time was of the essence, and shelved his rage. They would have a long conversation, at a later time. “I’ll lead. Daphne, to the right. Nott, left.”

He turned back to the couch. “Luna?”

Daphne hissed in displeasure, but said nothing. The slight girl nodded, and moved to join them. Peter was left alone. “Get back to the dormitory. If things go wrong, I don’t want you caught up in this,” Harry told him. “Luna, stay behind us.”

“Phalanx,” Nott said with a grin.

“Head of a Serpent,” Harry replied grimly.

The three Slytherins and the trailing Ravenclaw strode through the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, slicing through crowds of students like a scythe through wheat. Students almost tripped over themselves to get out of the way. Faces set in determined calculation, each running through a number of scenarios that might occur, some of which involved drawn wands. None of them terribly concerned with the Inquisitorial Squad, made up of misfits and sycophants, an embarrassingly large number of them from Slytherin. Tracey Davis had joined, to Harry’s surprise and dismay, but the rest of the Serpents in his year had stayed out of it. They made a very formidable sight. One of the IS thugs, a Slytherin Second Year named Gwen Rothwell, moved toward them, her IS badge displayed proudly on her breast. Daphne Greengrass gave her one look, and she shrunk back in terror, wordlessly allowing the procession to pass. They passed teachers, who stared, some in confusion, some in shock, others in apprehension. They approached the office. Standing before it was Albus Dumbledore.

“It must be done,” Daphne declared.

The old wizard looked at them over his half-moon spectacles. There was a deep sadness in those brilliant blue eyes, but his face was set in concentration. “Then I will not impede you any longer. It has already begun.”

He moved aside, and Daphne began to advance, leaving the others hustling to catch up. As if on cue, the door swung open, and a trio of Inquisitorial Squad members emerged, a pair of Slytherins and an older Ravenclaw. Harry recognized Raymond Tyler from Quidditch; he played Beater for a couple of years.”

“It’s over. Move aside,” Harry said.

“You can’t do this!” one of the Slytherins exclaimed. Youngest of the group — a First Year Harry thought. The one standing next to him definitely was.

He locked eyes with her. “Lysetta, move aside now and there will be no consequences. Fail to do so, and we will move you ourselves. Do you understand?”

“There you go, Potter. So full of yourself. You think you can attack a teacher? You aren’t long for this world, Potter. You need to learn to respect authority.”

“Speak for yourself, rhithiwr bradwrus,” Nott fired back. Harry didn’t have any idea what the insult meant, although it sounded Gaelic or Welsh, and the younger Avery’s cheeks reddened.

“You dare?” she hissed.

Greengrass had had enough. She marched forward, and, rather than drawing her wand, violently shoved the girl to the floor, then put her boot on the younger girls’ chest. “You’re pathetic.” She nudged the girl’s jaw hard with the toe of her boot, causing Lysetta to yelp. Daphne shook her head in disdain, then turned to the others. The other First Year and the older Ravenclaw had moved as soon as Lysetta hit the floor.

Harry checked if the door was locked. It wasn’t. He pulled the handle. Daphne kicked the door in for good measure. It slammed into the opposite wall, startling Dolores Umbridge quite badly. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. Her eyes locked on Harry, burning with hatred.

“I’m afraid that you are to step down from your position at Hogwarts. Effective immediately.”

“I will do no such thing! You insolent rats! I’ll have you expelled, all of you!”

“You won’t have that power for very much longer,” Daphne said, her voice ice cold. She drew her wand with a flourish, aiming it straight at the larger woman’s heart. “Surrender.”

“You wouldn’t dare…you…you can’t…you wouldn’t dare harm me!” she shrieked.

Feeling the need to relieve her of that delusion, Harry quickly drew his wand and blew a collection of the hideous pink kitten plates into powder, the beam almost singeing the DADA professor’s hair. Her eyes went wide with fear. She made a run for the fireplace. Nott had anticipated that and beat her easily. He cast a spell that killed the fire and send sent bolts of electricity arcing up and down the fireplace. “That’s out for about a week. Might have overdone it a bit,” he mused. “Really, your sense of décor is abominable. Potter had the right idea.” With that, he began destroying the decorations of the office, aiming and firing silent Blasting Curses under his left arm. Umbridge’s desk caught fire. Harry let it burn.

“This cannot be happening. You…you will pay for this, so dearly. This is beyond school discipline. You lot are criminals!” she cried in a hysterical voice.

“Justice is in the eye of those with power,” Nott said, now finished obliterating Umbridge’s possessions. There was a glint of glee, almost a madness behind those his eyes. Harry shivered a bit. He really didn’t like Nott, although he had to admit, as he looked around the office, that he wanted him on his side. “Very shortly, that will no longer be Cornelius Fudge and his compatriots. Your time has ended, Dolores. You were tasked with defending our world from all threats, and you failed. The greatest threat to our survival as a civilization came from nowhere else but our own Ministry. It is for your complacency and arrogance that you have been cast down.”

“What are you talking about?” Umbridge demanded. “This is madness.”

“This is a coup, Professor,” Harry said softly. “A genuine, bona fide, coup d’etat. I know that you are frightened of me. I doubt you’d imagine I’d be at the center of something like this.”

Umbridge stuttered, trying to find words to express her disbelief and outrage. Daphne decided to prevent that, Silencing her with a flick of her wrist and a whispered incantation.

Luna came over, her presence having proved unnecessary. “You see it now, don’t you?” she said gently. “Oh, how wrong you were. I pity you.” None of them knew exactly to what the Ravenclaw was referring, but the color in the deposed disciplinarian’s face showed that she did. She screamed, but no sound emerged. Luna giggled. “She’s funny when she’s angry.”

Harry turned to Daphne. “Now what?”

“We hold this office. Some of the IS idiots might get it into their heads to stage a rescue attempt. We make sure they never get close.”

“Should we communicate with your father?”

Daphne shook his head. “Potter, he believes in you, and me. That means that he will assume we have succeeded until he hears otherwise. Our job is done. Well, not quite…Locomotor Mortis,” she cast. Umbridge’s legs snapped together, and she crashed forwards onto the ground. “Oh dear,” Daphne said as she saw this, without the slightest concern. She turned around. “The rest is in the hands of others. Potter, come with me. We’ll hold the corridor. Nott, keep an eye on this one.”

“Oh, my pleasure,” he said, sounding excited. If it was possible, Harry swore that Umbridge’s eyes got wider still. “I do owe her, for those detentions. A Blood Quill, really Professor? I can do much better than those sorts of primitive tools.”

Harry almost felt uncomfortable leaving Nott alone, but Luna picked up on this. “I’ll watch. I’m rubbish at fighting, anyway.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that…put that fire out before it hits those bookshelves,” Harry snapped. Nott swiftly complied.

Harry and Daphne moved into the hallway, which was deserted. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Just then, four or five IS members ran up the corridor, stopping short when they saw the two Slytherins, drawing their wands. Oh boy…


Judgment Day had arrived at the Ministry of Magic.

Rufus Scrimgeour, flanked on both sides by his most trusted Aurors, Kingsley Shaklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, marched up the ornately decorated corridor that led to the office of the Minister of Magic. This was treason, Rufus knew, plain and simple. He suspected that things had already happened at Hogwarts, and would not suffer the shame of leaving children out to dry by backing out. Aiden Greengrass had been particularly concerned about Dolores Umbridge, for reasons that weren’t entirely apparent to the Head of the Aurors. Still, Rufus not only thought it was a good test for his young ally, but a mission he was likely to be able to carry out if he chose to do so. Aiden had assured him that his daughter was informed of the situation, and would get the job done by whatever means necessary.

In any case, he couldn’t worry about that now. All around the building, men and women he knew he could trust were loitering outside offices, in the cafeteria, in the lobby, each group assigned to find and detain members of Fudge’s government. Some of them he intended to force out of office, but others he suspected would quickly warm to their new Minister, if for no other reason than they valued their jobs. The key to the operation was to completely eradicate Fudge’s relevance in the political scene. Few of his allies would back him if he appeared to have been neutralized as a significant player. Rufus had his concerns, but was optimistic that he’d face little in the way of fierce opposition to the coup once the dust had settled.

He turned to his left. Nymphadora Tonks, her normally eccentric appearance reigned in to fit with the magnitude of the events taking place, listened for a moment, then gave a sharp nod. “Everyone is in position. A few targets are outside their offices, so some of the arrests will be public.”

“That cannot be avoided,” Rufus said shortly. He turned to look at both of his bodyguards. “You both understand that this situation is very dangerous, do you not? While I expect political opposition to crumble, I would not be in the least surprised if McGlinchy and Dawlish put up a fierce fight. Even if they appear to be cooperative, I want them both taken down.”

“Understood,” Kingsley said softly. “I must admit I’m surprised that only three of us are here for this.”

“Unfortunately, Auror Shaklebolt, reliable and trustworthy Aurors are painfully hard to come across. I reckon a full 30 percent of my command might turn me in to Fudge if they had heard of this plot. But they will fall into line when our operation is completely successfully.”

“Even so, my dear friend, I believe it wise to have backup.”

Tonks and Shaklebolt turned toward the new voice. Rufus just sighed. “I did not agree on your presence here. If anything, it delegitimizes this coup. Go home, Aiden. I daresay your family has played its role.”

Aiden Greengrass stepped forward, flanked by two men that Rufus didn’t know by sight. “Let me introduce my associates: Nikolai Ivanov, an old family friend, and Jackson Bynes, a lifetime rival. We have been chosen by the members of our alliance to represent the interests of Britain’s unaligned Dark families. Do not be a fool, Rufus. Perhaps it pains you to admit it, but a coalition of Light and Dark staging a coup is far more legitimate than Light alone. You may not approve of our traditions and our practices, but the Ministry is supposed to represent our interests alongside yours. Even if they have been quite rubbish in that respect of late.”

Tonks glanced back at Rufus, unsure of what to do. “Aiden…”

“You need us if this coup is to establish - the ultimate goal: the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Do not pretend otherwise. If this, our alliance, is to join with you, we will join as equal partners, nothing less. We ask for no more than what our status as citizens of Wizarding Britain entitles us to. I will not compromise on that point.”

Rufus glared at him. The fool was making a political move at the worst possible time. “You will remain at the rear.”

Aiden met his eyes. “Very well. Then let us do what we came here to do.”

Rufus nodded, looking over to Tonks. “Execute Downfall.”

Tonks began whispering into her wrist communication device, a relatively new technology for the Wizarding World, but one Scrimgeour found extremely useful. “All units, all units. Gamma Delta Alpha Alpha Bravo. Execute Downfall. Repeat, execute Downfall.

She turned to Scrimgeour, expectant. “There’s no stopping now, sir.”

Downfall? Really?” Ivanov scoffed. “Is the point of code phrases not to conceal the intent of a given order? That leaves little to the imagination.”

“Shut up,” Scrimgeour growled irritably. Oh, Aiden was going to pay for pulling this stunt…but not now.

They stood at a crossroads of history. There was no way of knowing if it was already too late, if Fudge had obstructed and ignored his way to a position where the Dark Lord’s victory was already inevitable. All he knew was that every passing day, their chances of winning this war weakened. Every passing day, Harry’s chances of victory became more remote…What are you thinking of, Rufus? he chastised himself. This will not be Potter’s battle…it cannot be…

“Lead the way, Kingsley,” Scrimgeour said firmly. They marched on towards destiny.

 


James Dawlish had seen a whole lot of political backstabbing in his career as bodyguard and political advisor to Cornelius Fudge. But this time, he wasn’t prepared for what was coming. He’d thought any chance of a coup had vanished with Fudge’s arrest of Bones and her co-conspirators. As he stood in the reception hall of the Auror office, a half-dozen wands pointed in his direction, he was realizing just how wrong he’d been.

“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded of the younger Auror that had first pointed him out, Blackwell, he thought his name was. Barely out of Auror School.

“We are taking back the government from those too cowardly and complacent to do the right thing,” he replied loudly. Wonderful…an idealist.

“You can’t win, Blackwell. None of you can,” he barked to the traitors surrounding him. “The people of Wizarding Britain will not accept a coup against a legitimately elected government. Your lives are forfeit,” he spat.

“The last cries of a man facing his destruction,” Mad-Eye Moody said, hobbling over to join them. A half-dozen Aurors, both insurgents and loyalists, scrambled to get out of his way. The grizzled old man locked his eyes on Dawlish, looking him up and down. “I’m rather disappointed in you, James. I had high hopes for you, once. But then, politics is man’s greatest enemy, isn’t it.”

Dawlish struggled to find his voice. “No. Alastor, you cannot…this has to be some kind of joke! How can you support these criminals?”

Moody hobbled closer. “No, my question, James, is how you could stay silent in the face of truly criminal incompetence on the part of your employer. The task of an Auror is to protect the ordinary people from all threats. Have you not seen the Prophet, boy? Seen Hogsmeade burning? Seen the lists of the dead, the stories of parents frantically trying to contact children? Obviously not, or you’d arrest yourself for a truly shameless act of dereliction of duty. You disgust me.”

“Instructor Moody,” Blackwell asked. “What should we do with the prisoners?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning to face the young Auror. “You see, Mr. Blackwell, what happens here means nothing.” He pointed to the ceiling. “What happens up there will determine our success or failure.”

“The Minister!” Dawlish gasped, horror rising as he realized the implications of Moody’s statement.

“Your Minister is getting nothing less than he deserves,” Moody sneered back to him. “You needn’t fret about his safety. Rufus has his honor, at least. Unless Cornelius decides to be really stupid.”

Dawlish backed up, still struggling to comprehend the events around him. He heard screams from elsewhere in the building, heard the chaotic noises of spell-fire ripping through the home of Britain’s Magical Government. He finally bumped into a wall, and slumped to the base of it, reeling.

“This is how it all ends, then,” he said softly.

Moody snorted. “Your poor fool. This isn’t the end. This is the beginning.”

 


“I want to see the Minister, Fiona,” Rufus said firmly to Fudge’s personal secretary.

“I’m sorry, but he’s rather busy at the moment.”

“I’m sure he is. I believe I may have something to do with it. You will open the doors…”

“Sir, you are well aware that I may not do that.”

“…or my friends here will open them for you,” Rufus finished. “It is your choice, but I’m rather fond of the carvings. 16th century Dutch, if I’m not mistaken. Wonderfully detailed trees.”

Fiona Lancaster stared at him. Then she dropped her head. She drew her wand and overrode the lock with the password. Some obscure Goblin warrior or something. Cornelius did love his history. Too bad he never learned a thing from it. “Thank you, Fiona. You made the right choice.”

“What choice did I have?” she asked plaintively.

The massive doors swung open, revealing the Minister’s office beyond. Scrimgeour marched forward, undaunted. Tonks and Shaklebolt flanked him. Aiden and his entourage politely stayed in the background, ready to offer help if needed. Rufus would count on things to stay that way, though; Aiden never could resist getting a bit of the action himself.

Fudge clearly knew what was coming. He sat at his desk, trying to look calm, although his papers were flung about and sweat shone on his brow. To his right, Sarah McGlinchy aimed a wand directly at Scrimgeour’s heart. She soon had a pair of wands aimed at her head. Rufus did not draw his own. Violence was not his way, not when peaceful solutions could still be found. Violence was destabilizing, chaotic by its nature.

“You will stand down, sir,” McGlinchy snapped, her voice almost hysterical.

“No, Sarah, I’m afraid I will do no such thing.” Daring her, he approached the desk. “I’m sorry, Cornelius. I really am.”

“Somehow I doubt the sincerity of that statement,” Fudge said softly. He glanced down at the papers on his desk. It was at that moment Rufus realized it was his personnel file.”

“Such a long and distinguished career you’ve had,” he said, wistfully. “More than I could ever have hoped to accomplish. I’ve never much had the stomach for fighting. Perhaps that was my mistake.”

Scrimgeour said nothing. McGlinchy, her eyes glazed with desperation, tried to hold her wand steady. “Get away from the desk, sir. This is your final warning.”

“Oh, come off it, Sarah,” Shaklebolt cried. “It’s over. Any chance you had of mounting a fight has come and gone. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“I seen you’ve brought friends,” Fudge said, his voice laden with distaste. “What did they offer you, Rufus, to make you take their side? I ask you, who is guilty of the real treachery here? You would ally with the likes of that rabble so that you could take my place as Minister? Truly, I expected better of you.”

Refusing to be baited, Scrimgeour held out his hand. “Your wand, Cornelius.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your wand,” Rufus repeated. “As a token of your surrender. Surely you know the situation is hopeless. And I never figured you for a martyr.”

Looking like a broken man, Fudge drew his wand out, and offered it. “I surrender.”

“NO!” McGlinchy screamed. Fortunately for Rufus, she was shaking so badly when she cast the hex that it screamed over his head, blasting apart several shelves of books. An instant later, she took a sickly green bolt directly to the chest, and went flying into the far wall. She slid to the ground, eyes wide and glassy.

“You fool!” Aiden barked.

Scrimgeour turned to see Jackson Bynes returning his wand to the pocket of his robes. “She was a threat.”

“And that is how you barbarians deal with threats?” Fudge demanded. There were genuine tears in his eyes. He made to rise, and Aiden’s wand snapped up. So did Tonks’, but it wasn’t her he focused on. Scrimgeour made a mental note to check the room for recording equipment; Fudge was looking a bit too sympathetic at the moment, though Rufus did not doubt his sorrow at McGlinchy’s death. They’d known each other for over ten years. “I have surrendered, you brute! May I not tend the body of a comrade and friend?”

“I suspect she was more than that, Cornelius,” Aiden said softly. “You always had a thing for blondes.”

“That’s none of your business,” Fudge snapped.

Tonks glanced uncertainly at him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. She stepped forward. “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

“You too, Nymphadora? You would be so heartless?”

“My feelings do not enter into it, sir,” she said firmly. “I have my orders.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, glaring accusingly at his de-facto replacement.

“I’m sorry, Cornelius,” Rufus said again. And he meant it.

Fudge didn’t respond. He held his hands out, and Tonks cuffed them, and allowed her to escort him from the room.

It would be a long time before Rufus forgot the look on the Minister’s face.


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