We Now Conclude this Arrest with a Hymn
Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he entered the Granger residence and was introduced to Hermione's aunt and cousins; his impression had, almost immediately, been of Aunt Petunia and two hyper-skinny, female Dudleys. Hermione and Tracey had both greeted him with hugs and a kiss on the cheek from either girl; when Caitlin and Roslyn had moved towards him, with that look in their eyes that they intended to do the same, Harry instantly held out his hand for them to shake. Both had seemed incredibly put-out and kept shooting glares at Hermione.
"So, how has Christmas hols been for you, Harry?" said Tracey.
"It's been great, Tracey," he replied. "Sirius finally worked up the nerve to propose to Bathsheba."
"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful," said Hermione.
"Yep, the wedding is going to be this summer. Oh, and it's going to take place in Norway."
"Norway?"
"Yeah, turns out a lot of Bathsheba's family live there. You're both invited, of course."
"Thank you, Harry, that sounds wonderful," said Tracey.
Caitlin and Roslyn both began to look red-faced at being ignored. Neither of them could fathom why this filthy rich and fairly attractive young man was choosing to speak to their beaver-faced cousin and her friend instead of them. It never once occurred to the two of them that Harry might actually find Hermione and Tracey to be more pleasant company. Of course, Caitlin and Roslyn were not about to be ignored without a fight and so both began to press up on either side of Harry, much to his annoyance.
"So, we hear you're a lord?" said Caitlin in what she assumed was a seductive voice.
"That is so fascinating," Roslyn added. "We've never met a lord before."
"Gee, I wonder why," Harry said in a sarcastic tone that went right over their heads.
Hermione and Tracey both glared at Caitlin and Roslyn. As Hermione's two cousins continued to invade Harry's personal space, no one noticed a certain house-elf named Winky preparing to strike. If there's one thing you should never, ever do, it's interfere with a house-elf's plans to get a mate for its master or mistress, and Caitlin and Roslyn were getting far too close to Mistress Hermy's Lord Potter for Winky's liking.
The last thing either Caitlin or Roslyn remembered was a sharp pain in the back of their heads as though some very large and very heavy object had collided with their skulls before they slumped to the ground unconscious. The eyes of the two witches and the young wizard turned to look at the house-elf who was now resting her cast-iron skillet over her shoulder and grinning smugly.
"Yous should not be messing with Mistress Hermy and Mistress Tracey's Lord Harry Potter sir," Winky said to the unconscious girls.
"Winky, while I deeply appreciate the help, was it necessary to hit them the skillet?" said Hermione. "That could have caused them serious brain damage." Of course, in Caitlin and Roslyn's case it might be an improvement, Hermione added in her thoughts.
"Not to worry, Mistress Hermy," said Winky proudly. "Winky is putting non-breaking spell on skillet. Hurts like regular skillet, but not cause any real damage."
"Oh, that's a relief. Thank you, Winky."
Winky gave Hermione a salute before popping off to the kitchen to start working on afternoon tea.
"Winky has been a tremendous help," Hermione explained to Harry. "My cousins have been trying to prank me and Tracey since they showed up, but Winky always turns their pranks back around on them."
"What exactly were they trying to do?"
"Oh, the usual stuff. Itching powder in our clothes, trying to make us trip down the stairs, tacks on our seats…"
"And that's normal? That's the kind of stuff that Dudley would do to me."
"Well, at least we have Winky on our side," Tracey added. "Of course, we are going to have to explain what happened to these two." She nodded to the still unconscious girls.
"I say we just leave them here and go get some tea," Harry suggested.
"Tea does sound nice right now," Hermione agreed.
So, Caitlin and Roslyn remained unconscious on the floor while the three friends went and had tea. Upon being asked where the two girls were, Harry, Hermione, and Tracey all replied that they were taking a nap. Caitlin and Roslyn did wake up after an hour or so and proceeded to act like nothing had happened. Later that evening, when Harry, Hermione, and Tracey were alone in Hermione's room, the bushy-haired girl suggested that maybe she should get the anti-pest ward on her house adjusted since it allowed Caitlin and Roslyn to enter.
"There's something else I was wondering, Harry," said Hermione.
"Yeah?"
"Well, about your public donation to those charities and your announcement that you and Sirius are taking up your families' old titles in the Muggle world. It's just, what if someone looks into your background? I mean, most of your paperwork is in the magical world, isn't it?"
"You know, Hermione, the Ministry of Magic might have their problems, they may even be the most ineffective branch of British government to ever exist, but even they aren't stupid enough to let a bunch of Muggle-born witches and wizards just drop off the map entirely without any paperwork. Seems that, if you're born and/or raised in the Muggle world, the Ministry provides documentation of your attendance at a prestigious boarding school for the gifted in Scotland. I mean, really, if they didn't then all those children vanishing from the system without a trace every year would cause suspicion, wouldn't it?"
"Actually, yes, it would seem very odd. So, if someone tries to verify what you announced?"
"They would find rock-solid evidence supporting my claims, yes."
Neville sat patiently waiting by his window when an owl arrived, dropping a letter into his hands which he eagerly opened.
Dear Mr. Longbottom,
I am pleased to inform you that your calculations were correct. I have tweaked a few minor errors in the brewing process, but I can safely say that the potion will be a success and that I will go to St. Mungo's with your research to ascertain whether or not your request will be accommodated.
Merry Christmas to you,
Professor Robert Preston
As soon as Harry entered Potter Manor for the evening, he was accosted by one of his house-elves.
"Ellis is sorry to be disturbing Master at this hour," said the elf. "But portrait of Lady Cedrella is asking for yous. Says is urgent!"
Ellis transported Harry over to the women's wing of Potter Manor where he was confronted by the very anxious portrait of Cedrella Weasley.
"Thank goodness you're here, Lord Potter," she said. "You have to contact the Aurors immediately and have them go straight to the Burrow. Molly has gone too far this time."
"What's wrong?"
"She's brewed the highly illegal potion Deditiopotentia. You have to call the authorities now or it could mean serious trouble."
Molly and Arthur were spending the evening together. The children had turned in early, leaving the adults to themselves. Molly tapped the arms of her chair nervously as she waited for Arthur to finish reading The Quibbler.
"Arthur, dear, may I get you some tea?"
"Hmm? Oh, no thank you, Mollywobbles, I'm not thirsty."
"Arthur, I really think you should have some tea."
"And I said 'no thank you.'"
"Arthur…" Molly said in a warning tone.
Arthur gave a frustrated sigh. His wife was acting very strange lately; he had confronted her about her actions and about Ron and Ginny and she had just snapped at him. He had also found bottles of what had looked like Amortentia in the cupboard when he was looking for a midnight snack the night before last. When he tried to ask Molly what she had been doing with a now illegal substance, she had accused him of not trusting her. Arthur might not be the brightest of individuals, but even he could tell that there was something going on.
"Yes, dear, I would love a cup of tea," Arthur replied wearily.
Molly got out of her seat and went to the kitchen. As she poured the cup of tea for her husband, she pulled out a vial of the potion she had been secretly brewing and put in three drops. While she didn't think Arthur could ever actually do anything to stop her, he was asking too many questions for her liking. She supposed that the mild loyalty potion she'd been putting in his food over the years had finally lost its effect, so it only made sense to use a little bit of the Deditiopotentia she'd been brewing for Ginny to give to Harry.
She soon returned and handed Arthur the cup, only for him to set it down on the table.
"Arthur, aren't you going to drink your tea?" she said with a note of impatience.
"In a moment, I just want to let it cool."
Molly glared at him and Arthur gave her a suspicious look in response.
"Molly, is there something you're not telling me?"
"Of course not! What ever gave you that impression?"
"Just a feeling." He picked up the tea and sniffed it slightly. "The tea has a strange smell, Molly. Perhaps it's gone off."
"It hasn't gone off, it's…it's just a new brand."
"Hmm. Molly, I'm starting to get the feeling that there's something going on here."
"What? You didn't see anything, did you?"
"No, but I think there's something going on."
"Arthur, take my word for it, there is absolutely nothing going on."
That was when the door was busted down and a group of red-roved Aurors entered the scene.
"All right, nobody move," said the lead Auror. "This house is surrounded. Wands where I can see 'em. Now then, now then, now then, my name is Senior Auror Heath Edwards, and this is a raid."
"Evening, Heath," Arthur said brightly.
"Oh, 'ello, Arthur."
"Look, if this is about the flying car, in my defense I never intended for anyone to actually fly it…"
"It's not you we're after, Arthur. It's your old termagant of a wife who's the problem."
"This is an outrage!" Molly yelled.
"Shut up! We have reason to believe that there are certain substances on the premises."
"What sort of substances?" said Arthur.
"Certain substances."
"What sort of certain substances?"
"Certain substances of an illicit nature."
"Could you be more specific?"
"Certain substances to be removed for clinical tests."
"Have you got anything in mind?"
"We suspect that there are large quantities of the highly illegal potion Deditiopotentia hidden on the premises. What's that, then?" He pointed to the cup of tea.
"It's just some tea," said Molly nervously.
"Right, I am confiscating this and will be taking it back to the lab for clinical examination." Here he turned to the other Aurors. "Right, lads!"
"I beg your pardon?" said a female Auror.
"And lasses…I am leaving you lot to tear apart the kitchen. Leave no stone unturned until you find that potion. As for you, Ma'am," he said to Molly, "I am afraid I must ask you to accompany me to the station."
"What?!"
"You see, if we don't actually find anything, DMLE protocol requires me to charge you with illegal possession of whatever we happen to have down there."
As Molly was dragged off by the Auror, she couldn't help but notice her mother-in-law's portrait grinning smugly down at her.
Meanwhile, at a resort in Southern France, Narcissa Black (formerly Malfoy) was enjoying all the benefits of being a single, attractive, and wealthy woman when she noticed someone she hadn't seen in over two decades. Although they hadn't spoken in such a long time, Narcissa could recognize her big sister Andromeda anywhere, and the man hauling twenty tons of luggage she assumed was Andromeda's Muggle-born husband…Tod, or Terry, or something.
"Andy," Narcissa greeted evenly.
"Cissy," Andromeda replied.
Narcissa looked over at her sister's husband who looked about ready to collapse.
"As amusing as watching him struggle is, why didn't you just cast a Featherlight Charm or a bottomless expansion on your luggage?"
"Ted insists on doing as much as he can the Muggle way," Andromeda replied. "Something about not becoming too dependant on magic."
The two sisters stared each other down for several minutes before simultaneously breaking down in tears and hugging, completely oblivious to Ted who had finally succumbed to the weight of the luggage and had to be rescued from underneath it by the hotel staff.
Amelia Bones was not happy, she was not happy in the least. Bad enough that she had to have her holidays interrupted, meaning she had less time to spend with her only surviving relative, but she also had to come in to work on a case of illegal substance possession, something which often involved a lot of paperwork.
"Okay, so tell me exactly what it was you found," Amelia said to Senior Auror Heath Edwards.
"Well, it's like this, Madam Bones. We followed up on the tip that Molly Weasley was brewing illegal substances, so we go 'round to investigate. Lo' and behold, we find her in the process of dosing her own husband with Deditiopotentia and apprehend her. We then ran an inspection of the kitchen which turned up about a crate load of the stuff."
Amelia rubbed her temples and counted to ten. Deditiopotentia was one of the most illegal potions in the world. Its effects were similar to the Imperius Curse, except it left no outward sign like a glazed expression or memory loss. The potion was designed to allow the one who administers it to completely control the victim in such a way that it seems as though the victim were acting of his or her own accord.
"Have you gotten Molly Weasley's statement about why she made that horrible potion?" Amelia asked.
"We tried, boss, but the woman keeps denying everything and accusing us of fabricating evidence."
"Dose her to the gills with Veritaserum. I want answers."
"Right away, Ma'am!"
"Oh, and, Edwards…"
"Yes, Madam Bones."
"Get me a sandwich."
Christmas day came once more, with gifts and love and joy galore, once again it wiped the floor…with the other three hundred and sixty-four.
Whoops, sorry, wrong story. Plus the narrator's contract says she is not allowed to burst into song at any point during the normal course of her duties.
Anyway, Christmas day had come again to Great Britain (and a bunch of other irrelevant countries, but they are not important to the story right now) and everyone was getting into the spirit of the holiday. Well, almost everyone.
Draco and Lucius spent their holiday at the mercy of their vindictive master. Even if Voldemort was only a pale shadow of his former self, he was still absolutely terrifying to them. Voldemort also had no tolerance for Christmas celebrations, though not even his most loyal followers knew it was because of his horrible and lonely childhood. The only time of the year that Voldemort hated more than Christmas was New Year's Eve, as it was his birthday and only served as a reminder of his miserable existence on the planet.
Christmas cheer was also a bit strained at the Weasley household since Molly's arrest. When the news got back to them that Molly had made a confession under Veritaserum that she had been intending to use it to have Harry Potter fall in love with Ginny and that she had been about to use it to control Arthur, tensions in the Weasley home were running high. Arthur blamed himself at first for letting Molly do whatever she wanted just because he wanted peace in his house, but his eldest boys convinced him that it wasn't entirely his fault and that, considering her actions, Molly had probably been potioning him throughout their marriage. Ron and Ginny were griping up a storm about their mother being arrested, though Ron seemed more upset that he didn't have his mummy to cook his food and Ginny was distressed that she didn't have her mother to help her ensnare Harry.
Both Charlie and Percy had invited their girlfriends over for Christmas, and luckily both Frieda and Penelope were relatively decent cooks and volunteered to make the dinner as not one of the Weasley men knew anything about cooking (though Fred and George were decent at potions and could have figured it out, no one trusted them anywhere near the food). Although everyone was sad to have lost a member of the family at Christmas, most of those present couldn't feel very sorry for Molly after what she had been planning to do.
Back at the resort in France, the two Black sisters and Andromeda's husband were sitting down to dinner, though Ted kept scowling because of the neck brace he was wearing.
"Why didn't he ask for the mediwitch to magically fix his neck?" said Narcissa.
"Let's just say there's a reason why our Nymphadora is so stubborn," Andromeda replied. "But it's just something I find adorable. Isn't that right, dear?" she added, pinching her husband's cheek.
"I wish Lucius had had some redeeming qualities," said Narcissa regretfully. "Unfortunately, the slimy bastard was only interested in one thing. Getting a male heir. After that, all I was good for was looking pretty at social functions."
"Oh, Cissy, I am so sorry."
"Yes, I always wanted more children. Especially since I realized what a little shit my son Draco is. So I told Lucius, I'd better get more children if you ever want to touch this again." She indicated to her very appealing figure. "But noooo, the bastard didn't want to run the risk of dividing up the family money between a bunch of heirs."
"And when you turned down his advances?"
"He decided that if I wasn't going to put out, then he'd find someone who would for the right price."
"Oh, Cissy," Andromeda gasped.
"You're lucky to have a man who loves you so much, Andy. I don't see Ted causing you any grief."
"Nope. He knows better than to step out of line. Isn't that right, dear?"
Ted mumbled something about crazy Black sisters.
Other people's Christmases went much more simply. There were the usual heartwarming antics and general sweetness that are typical of these stories, and since we all know the route such things take, let us move on to one family's Christmas in particular.
The Longbottom family had just settled down to their Christmas dinner. As had become a custom, two seats were left unoccupied in remembrance of Frank and Alice Longbottom. The Fairly small Longbottom family was currently composed of only Neville, his grandmother, his spinster great-aunt Enid, a couple of cousins who were considerably older than him, and his grandmother's brother Algie.
"Let us raise our glasses in a toast," said Augusta Longbottom. "To Frank and Alice, how we wish you could be here with us."
It was at that precise moment that the doors to the dining room opened. A collective gasp swept through the room and Augusta dropped her wine glass in shock. Standing there in the doorway, accompanied by a representative from St. Mungo's, were Frank and Alice Longbottom, looking careworn but otherwise fine.
"Happy Christmas, everyone, what did we miss?" said Frank.
In a flash of speed no one ever thought possible from the boy, Neville rushed from his seat and hugged his parents for the first time since he was an infant.
Back at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore sat brooding. While Christmas normally warmed his heart (not counting last year when he'd been abducted by the Goblin Inquisition), this year he was in a foul mood that was second only to Voldemort's. Things had been bad enough for him in the past year and now Molly Weasley had been arrested. How was Harry going to trust the Weasleys now that it was known Molly had tried to potion him into falling for Ginevra? He knew that the goblins would figure out that the marriage contract he'd arranged wasn't worth the parchment it was written on, so forcing Harry into compliance with it was out of the question.
None of the young ladies that Harry spent time around were good options to control the boy through. Miss Granger was Muggle-born, something that the old families would not accept in the Lady of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, and she had become far too independent and distrustful of authority figures lately so she was right out. Miss Greengrass was from a Grey family that had never really trusted Dumbledore. Miss Lovegood was unpredictable and not entirely mentally stable, plus she and her father had been very clear in their dislike of Dumbledore. Miss Bones would have been a good candidate, half-blood but with an old family name, the orphaned daughter of two supporters of the Light side; however, she and her aunt also did not trust Dumbledore ever since the incident with Snape. Miss Dunbar was also a half-blood, but had a Muggle family name, and she was in Gryffindor and clearly supported the Light; although, her pureblood relatives were somewhat Dark, and, again, she did not seem to trust the great Albus Dumbledore.
Lastly, there was Miss Davis. A pureblood from an old family that firmly stood by the status quo. Walter Davis had been willing to lend his support to Dumbledore for the right price in the past, the man was terribly greedy for money and power. Marissa Davis nee Rowle had once been a wild, free-spirited girl who had no intention of going through with an arranged marriage; that independent streak had been crushed when her parents forced her into marrying Walter. Marissa would be only too happy to see her daughter marry a young man who would love and respect her. Dumbledore had also heard recently that Walter Davis was planning to arrange a marriage between Tracey and young Gregory Goyle.
That's when an idea hit the aged headmaster. A sinister grin spread across his face as a back-up plan began to form in his mind. Dumbledore picked up some parchment and a quill and began to write. He had just finished writing his letter when an owl swooped in and dropped off one for him. Dumbledore picked up the message and read. His eyes widened when he saw that it was from his spy at St. Mungo's and what he had to say.
"Oh, this is so not good."
Omake: The formation of the Ministry of Magic
"Quiet, everyone! Order! Order!" Lord Slattersthwait shouted. "Thank you. Welcome, my Lords, my Ladies. I am sure you all know why I summoned you here?"
"Is it to discuss why Lord Potter chose not to sleep with my sister?" said Lord Licinius Lovegood.
"I told you, Licinius, it wouldn't be proper," Lord Junius Potter insisted. Of course, he did deeply regret not marrying the Lovegood girl when he had the chance; every time he had to talk to his wife he was reminded of that mistake.
"No, that is not why we are here," said Slattersthwait. "We are here because the Crown has finally agreed to allow us self-governance and we need to establish an institution that will enable us to keep order."
"I say that the wealthy are obligated to govern over those of…lesser standing," sneered Lord Hector Prince.
"Yeah, and what will you do, then?" chuckled Junius Potter, earning a scathing glare from Prince.
"Gentlemen, please," insisted Slattersthwait. "This is a very serious matter. Though I do believe Lord Prince has a point. The old magical families are entitled to recognition. Therefore, all those of Most Ancient and/or Most Noble Houses will have seats on a governing panel. We'll call it the Wizengamot!"
"What?" said Junius Potter, puzzled. "That sounds stupid. I refuse."
"Oh no you don't," said his father-in-law, Lord Gainsby. "Unless you want me to dissolve your marriage to my daughter, you will take that honorable position."
"That is not such a bad idea," said Lord Lovegood. "Then Junius can finally be with my sister. You have no idea how vexing it is to see her pout like she does whenever I have to tell her that Lord Potter won't be ravishing her-"
"Lord Lovegood, is it really necessary to discuss your sister's personal life in this meeting?" said Lord Swindon.
"I am not sure. Junius, do you think it's necessary that I-"
"No," said Lord Potter shortly.
"Then it's settled," said Slattersthwait. "We will all start the first session of the Wizengamot tomorrow morning and begin organizing our new government. I am sure our…Ministry of Magic will be the finest center of magical government in the world. No nasty little, bribe-taking, power-abusing, all-around corrupt politicians for us."
Lord Aquarius Black leaned over to whisper to Lord Potter.
"How long do you reckon it will last?" he said quietly.
"Three months," Junius replied. "Care to make a counter-offer."
"Three weeks."
Aquarius Black won the bet.
Chapter 24
But Now, a Bit of Fun
Longbottom Manor had once been a center of social interaction and the epitome of grandeur. The house had played host to gatherings that included witches and wizards of numerous degrees of wealth and circumstance, welcoming them each with equal dignity and friendship. Those days had waned since the last Lord Longbottom, Francis, better known as "Frank," and his lovely wife Alice had been incapacitated by the Lestranges over a decade ago. The glory days of Longbottom Manor seemed to have passed into the foggy annals of history. That is, of course, until Christmas of 1994, when the disabled couple's young son Neville, the Heir Apparent to the House of Longbottom, discovered a cure for the damage nerves in their brains.
The manor seemed to be restored to life now that its Lord and Lady had returned. The dusty air that had settled in since their illness was lifted as the dull and dingy halls once more sparkled. While Frank and Alice had not fully recovered from spending the past thirteen years in practically zombie-like states of severe neural damage, they were on the fast road to recovery thanks to their son's miraculous cure and were more than happy to attend the gala Neville had planned for the following evening.
Longbottom Manor's ballroom was smaller than that of Potter Manor, but it was by far the more opulent one. The high windows were gilt with pure gold done in elaborate ribbons and spirals that a regular metalworker would give anything to possess the skills to recreate, while the ceiling was painted with a moving fresco of the heavens, complete with clouds, cherubs, angels, and songbirds. The ballroom had been the creation of Lady Alexis Longbottom back in the days when the baroque style was taking root in the Muggle art world, with later additions made by her successors as the style had evolved to create a ballroom that would be the envy of Muggle royalty if they had known of its existence.
That was where everyone had gathered that snowy evening, to celebrate the approaching New Year and to give thanks for all the recent blessings the family had enjoyed. An orchestra played jaunty, classical music as the guests milled about, chatting, laughing, and swapping stories. Harry Potter entered the ballroom, accompanied by Sirius, Remus, and Bathsheba, and approached the reunited Longbottom family.
"Happy Christmas, Neville," said Harry.
The other boy pulled his friend into a hug.
"Thanks, Harry," he said. "If it hadn't been for you, I don't think any of this would be possible. Come on, I want you to meet my parents."
Frank and Alice smiled brightly as their son introduced them to his best friend, Harry Potter. Alice had hoped the two boys would be best friends, just as she and Lily had been, and it warmed her heart to know that her son and godson had been looking out for each other. Frank, however, had a far more serious matter on his mind; he didn't know if Harry knew yet, but Dumbledore could not be trusted.
"Harry, I was wondering if I could have a word with you," he said.
Harry nodded and followed Frank Longbottom over to a more private corner of the room. Frank put up a Muffling Charm so their conversation wouldn't be overheard.
"Harry, as I've been incapacitated for about thirteen years I haven't been able to warn you," he said softly. "I've learned some things about Dumbledore you might not like to hear."
"Can't be much worse than what I've experienced in the past few years and subsequently had printed in the media," Harry replied casually.
Frank was shocked for a moment. He had expected the boy to have been brainwashed by Dumbledore. At least this made it a bit easier for him to tell Harry what he knew.
"Harry, Dumbledore set me and my wife up to be attacked," Frank continued. "Dumbledore had sent our Secret-Keeper out on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix, knowing he would be caught by Death Eaters. Alice and I had been trying to claim guardianship of you after your parents' deaths, and Dumbledore needed us out of the way. If I had to guess, I'd say he set you and your parents up, too."
Harry felt a burning sensation behind his eyes. He'd known Dumbledore was a manipulative old bastard, but if he'd been responsible for Harry becoming an orphan in the first place…
"Does this have something to do with the prophecy?" said Harry.
Frank looked at Harry in surprise.
"How did you know…-? Only myself, Alice, and your parents were told about that by Dumbledore."
"Let's just say I know things. That's the reason you all had to go into hiding. Dumbledore told you about the prophecy and that the one who could defeat Voldemort would be either me or Neville."
"Yes. Dumbledore wanted to see which family Voldemort would go after, that's why he told us to choose Secret-Keepers other than ourselves. I had suggested that Lily be our Secret-Keeper and that I would be the Potter Secret-Keeper, but Dumbledore shot the idea down. Now you know why."
"Don't worry, Mr. Longbottom, I am going to see Dumbledore out of Hogwarts by the end of the year."
"If you need any help, then Alice and I are at your service."
The rest of the evening at Longbottom Manor was considerably more cheerful. Protocol had required Harry, as a currently unattached gentleman, to dance at least five dances with girls he wasn't at least acquainted with; not that that stopped him from giving Hermione, Daphne (who had gotten a portkey from Greece to attend the party that evening), Tracey, Susan, Luna, and Fay their own turns to dance with him. Hermione and Luna sat at a side table together, watching Harry twirl Fay about the dance floor.
"Show-off," Hermione muttered bemusedly.
"He really is clueless, isn't he?" said Luna.
"Well, he is a boy. He needs six wives, and when six girls practically turn up on a silver platter, he makes nothing but friendlyovertures."
"I don't recall being on a silver platter when I met Harry."
"I was speaking metaphorically, Luna. I just wish Harry would realize that we're more than willing to be his girlfriends."
"I would've thought you'd be against polygamous relationships, Hermione," said Daphne, who had approached the table with Tracey at her side. "After all, I don't believe such a thing is legal in the non-magical community."
"Believe it or not, getting a better understanding of the magical world has made me more open-minded, Daph. Besides, we all know that none of us will settle for anyone other than Harry."
"And sharing is caring, after all," Luna chimed in. "I've already drawn up plans for the honeymoon." She removed a large binder from her considerably smaller purse and showed it to the other girls.
"Well, Luna…this is certainly very…" Hermione trailed off, her cheeks turning red.
"Vivid," Tracey finished.
"Then it's settled," said Luna. "We will work together to seduce Harry."
Luna smiled brightly. It was so nice to have friends to share things, and Harry, with. She just wondered why her friends insisted on gaping every time she made a brilliant observation or expressed a point of profound insight.
Amelia Bones was currently fast asleep at her desk, partly buried beneath a stack of papers. Not only did she have the usual amount of Christmas hijinks to deal with, there was also the Weasley situation which had been causing her a great deal of trouble.
"Madam Bones."
"WHAT?!" Amelia shouted, jolting awake and scattering papers everywhere. "Kingsley, how many times must I ask you to knock?"
"Sorry, ma'am, but we got those answers out of Molly Weasley like you asked," said Kingsley.
Amelia sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She then set her monocle back in place and gestured for the young Auror to continue.
"Well, it turns out she's been planning for years to get Harry Potter to fall in love with her daughter and has been trying to dose the young man with love potions throughout the past couple years," he explained. "This also wasn't the first time she's used love potions, either. Turns out that, back when she was in Hogwarts, she used one to get Arthur Weasley's attention even when she knew he was going to ask out someone else. Since then, she has been continually giving him loyalty potions to make sure he wouldn't catch on to what she was doing."
"Is there any indication why she did all this?" Amelia asked.
"You probably don't remember this, boss, because you were only a first-year at the time, but the Weasleys once had a considerable amount of money. From the records, when Septimus Weasley had married Cedrella Black, the family's fortunes had skyrocketed. Unfortunately, it seems Abraxas Malfoy found a way to trick the Weasleys out of their fortune shortly after Arthur Weasley had married Molly. "
"I see what's going on," said Amelia. "She couldn't inherit the Prewett money because it is supposed to revert to the eldest male wizard with the last name of 'Prewett' just like with the Black family. So she potioned Arthur to get his family's money, but that fell through because of the Malfoys and so now she has her eyes on the Potter fortune."
As she pieced it together it all made sense.
"But the ingredients for Deditiopotentia are incredibly hard to come by," she continued. "To get them, she would need help from someone with influence enough to cut through the red tape."
"We tried to get it out of her, but it seems she was under an Unbreakable Vow which blocked the Veritaserum."
They both exchanged a look that indicated they both knew exactly who would have helped Molly Weasley with her schemes. Unfortunately for them, without clear evidence, they couldn't convict Dumbledore no matter how obvious it was who was responsible. One of the downsides of the Ministry's new efficiency was that they couldn't just go around arresting anyone without evidence.
"Well, Albus, I must say this sounds like a marvelous plan," said Walter Davis.
"I am glad you think so, Walter. With your daughter as Lady Potter, we two will have unparalleled control of the magical world."
"What if the Potter boy doesn't comply? My daughter may be friends with him, but I doubt he would bend to her influence on ever matter."
"That shouldn't be too much of a problem," Dumbledore assured him. "The boy is destined to die by Voldemort's hand." He ignored the shiver of fear from Davis and continued. "As your daughter would be his widow, his fortunes and titles would default to her and any children of the union."
"What about the other positions? Potter is required to have one wife for each of his six titles."
"It would be tricky to maneuver that, but the titles can be combined into one provided we get enough support from the Wizengamot."
"But only Potter can motion for that to happen and I doubt he'd be willing to listen to us on a matter like that, especially since combining several family titles is not highly regarded in our society. The magical world will expect those six lines to continue from six different women, Albus."
"I think tradition can be overlooked in this situation, Walter. After all, think about it, your daughter will be in control of six of the most powerful magical lines in the world."
Walter Davis smirked thoughtfully. Yes, he could overlook tradition if it meant he had direct influence over that much power and money. As head of the Davis family, any money or title that his daughter received would fall directly under his control as she was a woman. Tracey would be certain to cooperate in getting Potter's attention if the penalty for failure was for her to marry the Goyle heir.
"Cissy, it was absolutely marvelous seeing you again," Andromeda said as she hugged her little sister. "And if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to contact us."
"Well, there is one thing," Narcissa replied. "Does your husband Ted have any nice gentleman friends? I think it would really stick it to Lucius if he finds out he's been replaced by an attractive Muggle-born."
"Oh, Cissy, I love the devious way your mind works."
"Pity Bella didn't get Mother's common sense like we did."
Ted stumbled into the lobby, dragging the luggage behind him.
"Ted darling, are you sure you want to keep hauling all that stuff on your own?" said Andromeda. "I could easily put a Featherlight Charm on it."
"No, it's fine, I've got this," he insisted. Suddenly, there was a loud cracking sound. "My back!"
"I'll get some help," Andromeda said with a bemused sigh. She then waved over one of the resort workers. "Mr. Manuel, could you escort my husband to the resort infirmary and send someone to carry our bags?"
"Ah, si, Signora…uh, I mean, oui, Madam," the obviously Spanish bellhop replied.
Harry and the others were once again on the Hogwarts Express, headed back to school. Luna was currently reading out loud from the newest copy of The Quibbler.
"That killer blancmange is still on the loose," she said. "Seems it ate Auror Dawlish last night."
Harry grinned internally. Dawlish was one of the Aurors who had sold out Britain to help the Death Eaters. From what he could recall, he was the moron who tried to attack Neville's grandmother and got his arse handed to him.
Luna continued through the magazine.
"Ooh, looks like Molly Weasley was arrested," she announced.
"Luna, you help your dad print The Quibbler, why are you acting so surprised?" said Hermione.
"Because I want to know what it's like to read the stories for the first time even if I already know what happened in them. Hermione, you really need to learn not to gape at people."
"Well, I must say it was only a matter of time before Molly Weasley got arrested," said Susan. "She's been messing with potions for years as it turns out and no one ever caught on. I remember the Weasleys came to Bones Manor for a party once and I was getting suspicious when she kept trying to push me to play with Ron."
"What happened?" said Fay.
"I saw her put something in the cup of punch she gave to me and dumped it when she wasn't looking. Unfortunately, Auntie wasn't able to prove the woman was trying anything because I had gotten rid of the evidence."
"How old were you when that happened?" said Neville.
"Nine. Aunt Amelia was throwing a party for her coworkers and their families."
"So Molly Weasley was trying to find someone for Ronald even at that age?" said Harry with a note of disgust.
"Not hard to believe considering what a prick he was even back then. I think 'Matchmaker Molly' wanted to ensure her least likeable son had a girlfriend before he even got to Hogwarts." Susan gave a shiver of revulsion at the thought that she might have ended up going out with Ron Weasley.
They continued to talk for a while about the article.
"Tracey, you've been unusually quiet, is something wrong?" said Daphne.
Tracey looked up when she heard her name. Everyone noticed she looked somewhat morose.
"My parents have decided to offer my betrothal contract to the Goyles," she said in a dead tone.
Everyone gasped and Daphne pulled her best friend into a hug.
"They can't do that," Harry protested. "Is there anything we can do to stop it?"
"Not unless you fancy the idea of either killing Goyle or marrying me yourself."
"Well, I don't much care for the thought of killing Goyle, especially since he and Crabbe have cut ties with Malfoy."
Tracey gave Harry an even look.
"Harry, I am willing to go through with the marriage contract because I'm your friend and not about to force you into marrying me," she said.
"What, are you saying you don't want to marry me?" Harry joked.
Tracey blushed and stammered.
"Tha-that's not what I'm saying. It's just…Dumbledore's been talking with my father lately. For all I know, they planned this so that I would try to get you to marry me to get out of the marriage agreement with the Goyles, allowing them to get access to you. As much as I would love to get out of that contract, I am not going to give into their schemes and help them get any control over you."
"Trace, don't worry, I won't let anything happen. Have the Goyles actually agreed to the contract yet?"
"N-no, not as far as I can tell."
Harry smiled as a plan began to form in his head.
"What if the Goyles couldn't accept the betrothal contract because young Gregory wants to marry someone else?"
The others caught on to what Harry was saying.
"But, who on earth would be desperate enough to fall for Goyle?" said Fay.
Millicent Bulstrode often felt she didn't have much to live for. Four years at Hogwarts, and the only person who actually seemed even remotely interested in befriending her was Pansy Parkinson, and even then Millicent knew that it was just because Pansy needed her as a bodyguard. While Millicent was not exactly "ugly," she lacked the pleasing form that most Bulstrode women had possessed in the past. Another point that had caused her to be somewhat outcast in Slytherin House was the fact that she was a half-blood; her father had broken with centuries of tradition and married a Muggle-born woman, leading to a subsequent disownment from the family, though luckily they were still allowed to keep the Bulstrode name.
Of course, Potter's recent changes to the school had allowed the young witch more opportunities to interact with others, as well as providing her with the chance to discover her love of Muggle sciences, she still felt outcast amongst the student body.
So, when her roommates Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis turned up and tossed Gregory Goyle into her compartment, wishing her the best of luck, she wasn't about to turn down an opportunity. While she and Goyle were both in Slytherin, they hadn't exchanged more than two words with each other. However, now that she was sitting right across from him, with no one else around, she realized how easy it was to ask a very important question.
"Want to help me crush some rocks for a science project?"
Goyle went starry-eyed for a moment as a dopey grin spread over his face.
"Millicent Bulstrode?" Hermione inquired of her friends as they all loaded into a thestral-drawn carriage.
"Why not?" said Daphne. "They're both people of few words, they're both considered 'undateable,' and they both like crushing things."
Hermione rubbed her neck, remembering the incident in second year when Bulstrode had nearly strangled her.
"I'm just trying to get the awful images out of my head," said Harry. "Bulstrode and Goyle going out. I would've suggested we set Goyle up on a date with Crabbe; I mean, at least those two are already friends. Oh, God, even worse images!"
"Oh, Harry, whatever would we do without you?" said Fay.
"Probably suffer an extremely horrible demise at the hands of the Death Eaters," said Luna cheerily.
"Sounds about right," said Neville.
"When's our next board meeting?" said Harry.
"Tomorrow," said Hermione. "The new Splunge Inc. phones are ready to go on the market. All specially designed to circumvent wards that short-circuit regular electronics."
"Why didn't we just change the wards?" said Tracey.
"Trace, you clearly don't understand the workings of business," said Daphne fondly.
"Hey, I think I came up with a name for our new phones," said Neville. "What do you all think of Spell Phones?"
"Ooh, catchy," said Susan. "Much better something like WizPhones or some other banal moniker."
"Yep, we're going to bring the magical world into the twentieth, soon to be twenty-first, century," said Harry. "What do you think should be our next project after Spell Phones?"
"How about computers?" suggested Hermione.
"I thought those were just a fad."
"Harry, the concept of computers being a fad was funny in the early nineties. Now that it's 1995…well, it's just kind of pitiful."
The feast that evening went as one would expect under the circumstances. Dumbledore stood up to make a speech and Harry's prearranged prank took effect. Dumbledore really should have been taking care to ensure nobody tampered with his lemon drops. After all, who knows what kind of unscrupulous individual could put a potion onto them that would cause Dumbledore to begin vomiting rainbows and glitter in the middle of his speech? All things considered, Harry was really showing considerable restraint towards the headmaster. Things could have gone much worse for him, you know.
Ron had attempted to antagonize Harry during dinner as he seemed to have neglected to do so during the train ride. Ron's threats might have been more intimidating (though probably not) had he not been attempting to simultaneously eat two chicken drumsticks while he was ranting. Professor Babbling also happened to notice the disturbance and promptly award Ronald with detention.
Harry had to repress a smug look of satisfaction when he saw Malfoy. The blonde ferret had clearly not had the nicest time spending Christmas with Voldemort. At least Draco could console himself with the thought that his father was at least still able to name him his heir as Narcissa had chosen to divorce her husband rather than have the marriage annulled, meaning that Draco was not deemed a bastard by society (though everyone still thought of him as one).
The students from the other schools had also returned, having been provided with transport home for the holidays. For the life of him, Harry couldn't understand why, in the original Triwizard Tournament, the foreign students were not allowed to return home for the holidays; he also wasn't exactly sure why they had all been made to remain at Hogwarts for most of the school year when there had been no obvious accommodations made for them missing out on their education.
Well, a pleasant evening back at school now concluded, Harry and his closest comrades retired to the Founders' Quarters.
"It's good to be back," Harry muttered to himself.
Chapter 25
Extremely Well Not Played, There
It wasn't long after returning to Hogwarts that the second task drew close. In the weeks leading up to the big event, Harry and his friends caused a bit more trouble for Dumbledore, planned some new campaigns for Splunge Enterprise, and even hosted a few festivities to help the foreign visitors and the Hogwarts residents socialize. All in all, it was what one would typically expect to happen in a much longer and more well-thought-out story than the one you are currently reading.
Anyway, the day of the second task was almost there and Dumbledore had yet to find suitable hostages for Ronald and Draco. Hermione had made it plainly clear she would not, under any circumstances, be Ron's hostage and threatened dire repercussions if she was forced into the position; something similar was said by Draco's former associates in regards to being the young Slytherin's hostage.
So far it seemed like there was absolutely no one Draco or Ronald cared about enough to rescue; in fact, the only thing that really seemed to matter to the young Malfoy was his hair care products and all Ronald seemed interested in was food. Dumbledore gave a resigned sigh; at least the rules hadn't specified that the hostage had to be human, or animate in any kind of way.
Then there was the simple fact that the two boys had both procrastinated on figuring out what the task was going to be. Well, since every other school head was giving their champion help, Dumbledore figured he may as well help his students.
"How hard could it be?" Dumbledore thought aloud.
Fawkes looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Some days, the phoenix wondered why he still hung out with the old man.
With a smirk to himself at his cunning brilliance, Draco Malfoy finished signing the letter to his father about the egg and the problem it was presenting to him.
Dear Father,
After having gotten this golden egg from my fantastic display of magical prowess against the dragon, I have yet to discover what clue lies in it as every time I try to open it there is a horrendous screeching sound. MAKE THE PROBLEM GO AWAY!
Sincerely,
You beloved son
As soon as the owl reached Lucius, who was currently treating some sore spots on his body from overexposure to the Cruciatus, the man gave out a belabored sigh. The form of the letter was all too familiar, as Draco often concluded his letters with "MAKE THE PROBLEM GO AWAY!" or something to that effect. Lucius was not a stupid man (well, not in the sense of academia) and quickly deduced that the egg was likely a recording of mermaid voices. He wrote a reply to Draco, telling him that he should try to listen to the egg under the water.
Dumbledore stared back at the red-haired teenager in front of him with a growing pain behind his eyes. Ron did not, in any way, seem concerned about the next task and had no plan whatsoever. It was bad enough that he just didn't know what the task would be, but to not have made any effort at all...
"Mr. Weasley, you do realize that this task is very important?"
"Yep."
"That your performance in the task is a reflection on the quality of the school?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then why have you not made any attempts to prepare for it?"
"Because heroes like me can do anything just by winging it. Like when I beat the dragon in the first task, or when I defeated that basilisk in second year."
Dumbledore felt a powerful urge to bang his head against the desk. He took a deep breath and slowly counted backwards from ten in his head. He then plastered on his grandfatherly smile.
"Ronald, seeing as you are such a wonderful champion, I will allow you the use of the Prefects' Bath."
"Really? Gee, thanks, Professor."
"Yes, the password is 'pine fresh.' And, while you're there, you might want to bring your golden egg along with you. You know, make sure it's nice and clean."
"Uhh…okay."
"Best to submerge yourself under the water at the same time as the egg, too."
"Okay. Uh, Professor?"
"Yes, Ronald?"
"What does 'submerge' mean?"
Dumbledore didn't even try to resist as he collapsed, face-down, on his desk and began to sob. He could only hope that Draco Malfoy wouldn't be so hard to explain things to.
The halls of Hogwarts were dark and eerie as two boys snuck out of their dormitories, both headed towards the same place; each with a golden egg secured under one arm. Draco was the first to arrive, having received permission and the password from Dumbledore as well, and began to undress to take a bath in the luxurious Prefects' Bathroom. Smiling to himself, he relished the thought of when he would be able to use the facility as much as he wanted next year, certain in the knowledge that he would be made a prefect.
No sooner had Draco started setting up a bath when Ron entered.
"Oi, Malfoy, what are you doing here?!" Ron snarled. "Dumbledore gave me special permission to use this bathroom."
"Piss off, Weasel," Malfoy retorted. "I got permission, too, and I was here first!"
The two boys quickly got into an argument that escalated to a full-blown fight. As Ron lunged at Draco, he tripped over his bathrobe and instead collided with the blonde, sending them both toppling to the floor. It was at this moment that Moaning Myrtle emerged from the pipes to see what all the ruckus was about. As soon as she saw the compromising position the two boys were in, she darted back down the drain. By the following day, news of the alleged liaison between Ron and Draco would be all over the school.
After shaking themselves from their momentary, shocked stupor, Ron and Draco began to fight and accidentally ended up falling into the large tub, inadvertently knocking one of the golden eggs in as well.
"Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour- the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
The two resurfaced, sputtering and spitting out water as they tried to catch their breath.
"Did you hear that, Weasel?"
"The song thing?"
"Yes, you moron!"
"Yeah, I heard it. Sounds like a load of gibberish to me."
Draco smacked Ron upside the head.
"It means that they've taken something from each of us. Something we'd both really miss."
Ron nodded blankly, not really understanding.
"As I, through tremendous cunning and guile, have discovered the voices in the egg are that of mermaids, it would be only natural to assume the task will take place in the Black Lake. All we have to do is find a way to breathe underwater."
"Yeah, you do that, Malfoy. As for me, I'm going to finish bathing and polishing my egg."
It was the day of the second task.
Everyone had settled into their seats as they awaited the arrival of the champions. Harry was yet again seated amongst his friends, this time in the front row. While Harry knew there would be nothing to see, as whoever planned this task was stupid enough not to realize that no one could actually see into the lake, he did want to be ready in case something should go wrong. After all, as the official owner of Hogwarts it was Harry's responsibility to see that no lasting damage was done to anyone.
Cedric, Krum, and Fleur were the first of the champions to arrive, with Malfoy hastily following after them. Ron was nowhere to be seen yet. Fleur glanced over in Harry's direction and gave a flirtatious look, flipping a strand of her silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder. Harry gave no sign that he had noticed, though Daphne was now furiously glaring daggers at the French champion. It wasn't so much that she was jealous, not at all, she was perfectly happy to let Harry decide who he wanted to be with; the problem Daphne had was that the part-veela couldn't seem to take a hint. That was the difference between water and fire creatures; fire-based creatures like veela were accustomed to getting their own way and not allowing anyone to tell them 'no,' whereas most water-based creatures like sea nymphs were willing to compromise, even though they had just as much power as veela.
After several minutes, Ron finally arrived, not at all concerned about the fact that he was late.
Bagman pointed his wand at his throat, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.
"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two...three!"
As the other three champions dove into the water, Draco Malfoy withdrew the large packet of gillyweed that his father had sent him and swallowed it. Thinking himself brilliant for 'his' idea, the blonde boy jumped into the water, only to realize that he had no idea how to swim. Despite the fact that he now had gills and could breathe underwater, Draco began to thrash about in the lake yelling, "Help! I can't swim! I'm drowning!"
Ron, on the other hand, hadn't bothered with any sort of magical substance or charm at all. It happened that Ronald had overheard a conversation between some Muggle-borns in Gryffindor about how Muggles breathe underwater and had decided to use something like that to show everyone how clever he was. And so, Ronald Weasley produced a snorkel and jumped into the lake. Now, snorkels are fine if you just want to look into water from the surface; they are certainly not suitable for going deep underwater.
The crowd watched the display of the two "chumpions" with undisguised amusement until, after a few minutes, Fleur shot up from the depths, coughing up water and screaming something in French. As she reached shore, she frantically tried to explain something to Madam Maxime. Shortly afterwards, Cedric emerged with Justine, the latter of whom looking none too pleased about having been kept hostage at the bottom of the lake. They were quickly followed by Viktor Krum an Iris Moon. As the scores were tallies up by the judges, Harry realized that something was wrong. The merpeople hadn't brought up Fleur's sister and the young woman in question was becoming more hysterical. Daphne, who was sitting right behind Harry in the stands, suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry," she said breathlessly, "remember how I told you that water-based creatures have a feud with fire-based ones?"
Harry met Daphne's eyes and the two came to a horrible realization. The merpeople weren't going to return the little girl.
Without thinking twice, Harry leapt from his seat and sprinted to the water's edge, Daphne following close behind him. Harry used his Metamorphmagus abilities to form a set of gills on his throat and Daphne allowed her sea nymph form to take control as they both dove into the water. The two swam down, down into the murky depths of the Black Lake. Harry led Daphne to where he remembered the merpeople's village was. As they approached the place where Gabrielle Delacour was still held prisoner, several mermen guards accosted them.
"You are not the champions," one said. "Leave at once."
"The contest is over," Daphne explained, her voice a rich lilting sound that echoed through the water. "Release the unclaimed hostage."
"The hostages for the two boys who did not even reach our village are being returned," explained the other guard. "Strange that they needed a box filled with hair-care products and another filled with chocolate frogs when the other champions had living hostages."
"And the girl?" Daphne continued. "Let her go."
"As a sea nymph, you of all people should know we don't take kindly to fire-beings," said the chief of the merpeople who had since joined the gathering. "This creature must remain to suffer the fate of all fire-beings who cross our path."
"She is an innocent!"
Daphne and the mer-chief seemed to lock gazes. Harry, having lost his patience, removed his wand and pointed it at the rope holding Gabrielle and shouted, "Relashio" causing a bubble to come out of his mouth and sending the sensation of Déjà vu through him. The guards began to advance on them, but Daphne floated at Harry's side.
"This is the master of the territory on which your lake sits," she snapped. "Harm him and there will be dire consequences."
The chief signaled the guards to stay back.
"Wait," she said to them before returning her gaze to Daphne. "Remember, child of water, veela are not to be trusted."
"Well, it's a good thing she has human blood in her, too," Daphne retorted.
The mer-chief then looked at Harry.
"Be good to this child of water," she said to him with a knowing smirk.
Harry and Daphne worked together to pull the little girl back to the surface. Harry had always thought it strange that such a small girl would be so heavy in the water; but then, he remembered that Gabrielle was essentially petrified, making her stone-like, plus he had read that those of veela heritage tend to have bad reactions with water.
Finally, they broke the surface and made for shore, unaware of the joyous shouts from the crowd. As they walked up the shore, Fleur raced over to them and pulled her sister into a hug, both talking rapidly in French. Fleur then looked back at Harry and Daphne; gone was the gold-digging flirt and the condescending veela; instead there was a young woman who was sincerely grateful that her sister had been returned safely.
"You saved 'er," she said. "I am deeply sorry for my behavior towards you both. Thank you, thank you both." Here she gave both Harry and Daphne a grateful hug, after which she escorted her sister over to Madam Pomfrey.
"Thanks, Daph," said Harry.
Daphne gave Harry a gentle kiss on the cheek.
"My pleasure," she replied. "Now, there's one thing left to do."
Both shared a look that revealed they were both thinking the same thing. Dumbledore was really in for it.
A young and very attractive blonde woman dressed in a crisp, white dress-suit that brought out the best aspects of her figure sat at her desk and tapped her fingers against her forehead, her eyes pinched closed in concentration as she tried to comprehend what the two men in front of her had just reported to her.
"All right," she said at last. "Let me get this straight. The six girls Lord Potter needs to marry are right there waiting for him, all willing to share him, and he is completely oblivious to all of it?"
"Yes, ma'am," said the taller of the two men. "It seems young Lord Potter is either too noble or just a bit too naïve to make romantic overtures to the young ladies."
"This is a nightmare," the woman said with a frustrated sigh.
"Can't you just soul-bond them or something, ma'am?" said the shorter of the two men.
The woman levelled a glare at him.
"What could possibly make you think that something as ridiculous as a soul-bond exists, Terry?"
"Nothing, it's just the only line I have in this whole fic."
She immediately picked up a paperweight and chucked it at his head.
"No breaking the fourth wall!"
"What do you want us to do, Shirley?" said the tall man.
"Never bring Terry in here again," said the woman.
"No, no, I mean about Lord Potter."
"Oh, that. Well, as I said, soul-bonds do not exist." That's when a devious smirk spread over her face. "But that's not to say there aren't other ways of helping to speed things up a bit."
"Now, Shirley, you know you're not allowed near the Tapestry of Fate again, not after what happened last time."
"One little mix up and I never live it down!" She threw her hands up into the air.
"Two words, Shirley: Fourth Crusade."
"It's not my fault. How was I supposed to know the Crusaders would ransack Constantinople?" Shirley gave a huff and sat back in her chair, her arms folded. "Besides, this is a totally different situation. I just need to twist things a tiny bit."
"As long as you're not interfering with free will or major events in history."
"Yes, yes, I get the picture. Now get out of my office."
Author's Note:
Sorry it's so short, but I was feeling rather rushed to get this done. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to update soon; at the very least it won't take as long as this update did. And now, here's an omake for XandricTheBeaterwho wanted the "Dirty Fork Skit."
Omake (set outside of the main story):
The Golden Trio was sitting down to dinner in the Great Hall one evening. It had been a typical day (probably sometime during sixth year as that was a largely pointless year) and they were enjoying themselves, chatting with some other students from Gryffindor (which was odd as the Trio rarely socialized with anyone other than each other). That's when Hermione picked up her fork and realized that it hadn't been washed properly.
"Oh dear, are there any extra forks available, mine's a bit dirty?" she said.
Suddenly, there was a 'pop' and a house-elf appeared.
"Begging your pardon, Miss," said the elf in its squeaky voice. "But what was yous saying about the fork?"
"Oh, no, I've just got a bit of a dirty fork. I was just asking for another one."
"Oh, Miss! Tizzy does apologize!"
"No need to apologize. It doesn't worry me."
"Oh, no, no! Tizzy does apologize, Miss! Tizzy will fetch head serving elf immediately!"
"Oh, there's no need to do that," Hermione insisted.
"Oh, no, no, Tizzy is sure the head serving elf will want to apologize to yous himself. Tizzy will fetch him at once."
With that the elf popped away.
"Well, you certainly get good service around here," said Harry.
Before Hermione could retort with some spiel about house-elf rights, Tizzy the elf popped back in with another elf. The new elf was taller than the average house-elf, with pointed ears and a serious expression.
"Excuse me, sirs and miss," said the head serving elf. The elf looked over at the fork beside Hermione's plate, his eyes widening, and turned sharply to Tizzy. "It is filthy! Tizzy, find the elf that washed this fork and see they is given clothes immediately!"
"Oh, no, please," Hermione said worriedly.
"No! Better still, we can't take any chances. See the whole washing-up staff is given clothes!"
"No, look, I don't want to make any trouble," said Hermione.
"Please, Miss, it is no trouble. It is quite right that yous should point these things out," the elf said brightly before rounding on Tizzy again. "Tizzy, tell the head elf what has happened immediately." Tizzy popped away.
"Look, no, please, I don't want to cause any fuss," said Hermione desperately.
"Please, it is no fuss. We's simply wanting to make sure nothing interferes with your complete enjoyment of the meal."
"Oh, I'm sure it won't, it was only a dirty fork."
"I knows," said the elf solemnly. "And I's sorry. Bitterly sorry. But I knows that no apology I can make can alter the fact that, in Hogwarts school, yous has been given a dirty…filthy…smelly piece of cutlery."
"It's not smelly."
"It is smelly! And obscene and disgusting! I hates it, I hates it!"
There was another 'pop' and a new elf appeared.
"That will do, Gilly," said the new elf. "You can go now."
The ranting elf disappeared with a furious 'pop.'
"Good evening Sirs and Miss, I is the head elf of Hogwarts. I has only just heard. May I?"
Hermione scooted over, allowing the elf to stand on the bench.
"I woulds like to apologize humbly, deeply, and sincerely about the fork."
"Oh, really, it's only a tiny bit of dirt," said Hermione. "You couldn't see it."
"Oh, yous is very kind, fine lady to be saying so, Miss. But I can sees it. To me, it's like a mountain, a vast bowl of puss."
"It's not as bad as that."
The elf then clutched his chest.
"Oh, it gets me here. I can'ts make any excuses to yous, there are no excuses. I has been meaning to spend more time in the kitchens recently, but I hasn't been too well. Things hasn't been going very well back there. Several of the cooking elves has been given clothes, and some of the older elveses that does washing up can hardly moves their poor, old fingers, and then there's Gilly's war wound. But they's good elvses, and they's kind elveses. And together we was beginning to get over this dark patch. There was light at the end of the tunnel." Here he picked up the fork. "When this -! When this happened!" The head elf collapsed in sobs on the table and Hermione exchanged an awkward glance with Harry and Ron.
"Can we get you some water?" said Harry.
"Is the end of the road," the elf continued to wail.
There was another 'pop' and one of the cook elves appeared. She took a look at the sobbing head elf and glared at the Trio.
"Yous bastards!" she shouted. "Yous vicious, heartless bastards! Look what yous done to hims! He's worked his fingers to the bone to make this place what it is, and you come in with your petty feeble quibblings and you grind him into the dirt. Oh, it makes me mad. Mad!" The elf slammed a meat-cleaver into the table and Gilly the elf reappeared.
"Easy, Mungo, easy" he said. "Mungo…ah, the war wound!"
"The wound! The wound!" Mungo cried.
"Is the end!" the head elf declared.
"Ah, they's destroyed him!"
"The end!" The head elf seized up the fork and stabbed himself in the stomach with it.
"He's dead! They's killed him!" Mungo shouted, grabbing the cleaver. "Revenge! Revenge!"
Gilly snapped to attention and grabbed Mungo.
"No, Mungo, never kill a student. Ah, the war wound!"
"The wound! The wound!" Mungo made to lunge for Hermione. "Revenge!" Luckily, Tizzy reappeared and tackled Mungo to the ground.
And now… the punchline
"It's a good thing you didn't say anything about that dirty knife, Hermione," said Ron.