The Wrath of Hermione

Disclaimer: This fanfic isn't meant to be serious, nor is anything I say meant to be taken without eighteen kilotons of salt. JKR owns the Potterverse, even if she's ruining it with the bad joke that is R/Hr. Hey, I love Jo, but sometimes the woman is just ... delusional.

One month later ...

Harry sat in the deserted common room on a Saturday afternoon, pondering. There were lots of things to ponder, like the peculiar deaths of half a dozen functionaries in the Ministry of Magic, how relatively pleasant life was without the human presence of Dolores Umbridge since her temporary replacement did not use Blood Quills nor prowl the corridors at 2am (Percy Weasley slept promptly at 11), or how surprisingly good Ginny Weasley was as a Chaser.

The current object of his pondering was, however, different. It was the bushy haired bookworm named Hermione Jane Granger. He didn't think he was the only one pondering her recent change of behaviour either. She was almost back to normal now, but she was still far more confident than she had ever been before the war broomsticks talk.

Almost was a relative term. She never bothered raising her hands in class any more, though she answered any questions if she was asked directly. She had joined the Hammers, an informal group of mostly Muggleborn boys and girls who played football in the evenings on the Quidditch pitch under magical floodlights. She never played for more than half an hour, but she seemed to enjoy it. She wasn't particularly good, but she did get in some good tackles. All the tackles were illegal, since she never got the ball, but no-one seemed to mind. Even she didn't mind when she got sent off once - by common consent since there was no referee - since being Sent Off only lasted five minutes, which was great for taking a breather.

Harry came down to watch her and Dean a few times. He pleaded exhaustion the first half dozen times before Hermione ordered him to at least play in goal. He'd never played in primary school thanks to Dudley, so it was a pleasant surprise when, despite his height, he made an excellent goalie. Dean said it was his reflexes, which were 'unreal'. Dean said he might even be able to make it professionally as a Muggle goalkeeper. Harry had been more pleased than he had expected at that. Or perhaps it was the fact that Hermione had beamed at him extra-brightly that day.

In the month since their war broomsticks conversation, the project was rapidly becoming Ron's baby. Professor Flitwick had nearly fainted when the redhead had approached him after class to ask questions about lengthening and cushioning charms. Or maybe it was the fact that Ron had a list of questions all written down. They were still in the stage of deciding what they wanted and collecting charms and testing them on a pair of old school brooms they had wangled from Madam Hooch. An order for some new Cleansweeps to experiment with was in the mail. The twins made unsurprisingly good consultants, as did Hermione.

Not that Harry minded in the least. He was glad Ron had found something that was distinctly Ron's, and Harry was happy to test brooms and be an assistant researcher. He wondered what Madam Pomfrey's reaction would be when he got his first broom testing injury. He just hoped he wasn't more than twenty feet in the air when that happened.

Hermione still had her hair dyed red. In fact, Harry had coloured his hair red as well, but it was the shade that his mother had in his photographs of her, not Weasley red. Hermione had sniffled a bit when she saw it the first time.

Snape's reaction to Harry's loss of ravenhood had been ... well, curious was one word for it. He'd have to ask Remus about it. He'd ask Sirius, but he didn't think he'd get an objective opinion from his dogfather.

Speaking of the Marauders, Harry had been in contact with Sirius a lot recently, thanks (again!) to Hermione. She had found some obscure charms book and, with Professor Flitwick's help, created three messenger books. Anything written in one book also appeared in one or both (depending on how it was being used at the time) of the other books. She'd given them to him and suggested that he give them to Sirius and Remus. He'd almost broken two of her ribs as a result ... in fact, he'd even thought of kissing her.

And that was part of the problem. He'd realized that she was a girl for a long time - okay, since the Yule Ball - but she'd never been ... dateable. Why the change? And what did she think about it? She'd practically pushed Ginny on him, for a start. On the other hand, she had made it clear that she thought of Ron as only a brother, but had never suggested the same to him. Did she consider Harry a brother. Did Harry consider Hermione a sister?

He'd asked Sirius about it during History of Magic (which was now officially dubbed "Marauder Notebook Time").

Sirius : You finally figured out that Hermione's shaggable, eh?

Harry : Padfoot!

Sirius : What? I thought she was your girlfriend when you two rescued me with Buckbeak that day!

Harry : You did?

Sirius : Course I did. You seemed to understand each other without speaking, and she was very concerned about you. She threw herself in front of you when she thought I might off you in the Shrieking Shack. Ordinary friends don't do that.

Harry : Ron did.

Sirius : I never said he was an ordinary friend. But we're not talking about dating Ron here, unless you've got something more interesting to tell me, hmmm?

Harry had also checked with Remus. He'd even been able to do this in person, since Remus visited the castle one day on short notice and was able to tell Harry about it through their notebooks. Remus had given Hermione the ultimate compliment in Harry's mind - he'd compared her to his mother.

Harry : Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Remus : You mean being attracted to a girl who happens to be like your mother? In your case, it is irrelevant since you - sorry - never really knew Lily. And I feel very guilty about that, because Padfoot and I have told you much about your father and very little about your mother. I'll have to rectify that since I was a lot closer to Lily than he was. Your mum and I were prefects together. She had an excellent sense of humour, but you had to find it.

Harry : Really?

Remus : I'd love to tell you more, Harry. But not now, the Headmaster wants to see me. But write your questions in your notebook and I'll answer them at length.

Harry : Oh. Alright. I can do that. But now, with ... her ...

Remus : Ah yes, your love life with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?

Harry : Moony!

Remus : Merlin, you sound just like James. And we teased him out of his skin... never mind. Look, here's what I think. I think you should try to become a better friend to Hermione before you try for any relationship with her. I would give that advice for whoever your eventual mate will be. Love at first sight is extremely rare, and never happens between two ugly people. And yes, I know you're best friends with Hermione already - but friendship can always be better. I'm still learning things about Sirius that I never knew before. The small things are important : do you know Hermione's favourite colour, or her favourite song, or if she plays any musical instrument?

Harry : She likes green, and a song by the Beatles that I can't remember the name of but could tell you if I heard it. She used to have guitar lessons but she wishes she could play the violin instead. But, yes, I see your point.

Remus : She likes green, eh? I wonder what shade of green - emerald, perhaps? Oh bugger, I really have to scoot now.

That was yesterday. Harry had even made a list of things he wanted to know about Hermione and his mother. It had initially been two lists, but had soon become a single one. This was slightly scary, especially since he knew what an Oedipus complex was, but he let it slide. There were, after all, two women in his life that he wanted to know more about, and why not have a single list for both?

(It was funny how he had long stopped thinking of Hermione as a girl, even though he still thought of himself as a boy. Perhaps he should place Growing Up on his list of things to do.)

As the list grew longer and longer, he was shocked by how much he didn't know about his best female friend.

Now, if he could only figure out how to ask her these questions without getting her suspicious...

"OY! HARRY!"

He quickly stuffed the list in his pocket and turned to look at the entrance to the common room where the bellowing was coming from. It was the unlikely pairing of Ron and Neville.

"Hey!" said the lanky redhead, looking like the cat that had eaten the canary and had then had a nice creamy dessert. "You'll never believe this!"

"Malfoy's going to St Mungo's!" said Neville, clearly having one of his better days.

"Eh, what?" asked Harry, turning his whole body to look at them. "How?"

"We're not sure," replied Ron, "but who cares! The ferret's gone, he's gone, he's gone!" He was performing a peculiar jig that would probably have caused a terrifying thunderstorm in Timbuktu had it been a valid rain dance. Amused but frustrated, Harry turned his attention to a grinning Neville and raised his eyebrows.

"He was practising on the Quidditch pitch when suddenly he screamed and then he fell to the ground. About half his bones are broken."

"How high was he?"

"Fifty feet."

"Ouch." Harry winced. "But Madame Pomfrey can fix that, right?"

"That's the thing, see," said Ron, who had now ceased his (successful) attempts to pollute the visual landscape. "Madame P said His Royal Ferretness was attacked by a dark curse that broke many of his bones while he was still in the air. She said she doesn't know how to fix them. You know how Angelina's assisting in the Hospital Wing? That's what she heard, and and I overheard her telling the twins about that part."

"Is this common knowledge?" asked Harry.

"Everyone knows that Malfoy's gone to St Mungo's," answered Neville. "But about the dark curse that Ron just explained, no, that's not public. I only know because Ron was so excited he had to tell someone, and then we came to find you. Now we're going to the library to tell Hermione. Coming?"

Harry nodded, and followed them outside. The news was spreading fast, judging by the number of people talking to each other excitedly. He wondered if there would be a celebration in Gryffindor that night.

"Say," he began uncertainly, "do you guys think there's any danger of Malfoy, you know, like dying?"

Neville stiffened briefly before shrugging his shoulders. Ron wasn't sure either.

"I dunno, Harry," said Ron in a low voice that was quite uncharacteristic of him. "Angelina sounded worried. It didn't sound like she was trying to gossip with the twins, you know? It was more like she couldn't tell anyone but she had to tell someone so she wouldn't go mad. And the twins are very good at keeping secrets."

"Except when they're overheard," said Neville.

"Obviously. I'm surprised they didn't put silencing charms up."

"What about Dumbledore?"

"She sent Malfoy to St Mungo's at once," continued Ron. "She didn't even bother telling Dumbledore. The just placed an emergency Portkey on him and went with him herself. Angelina was the one left to tell the Headmaster and Snape. She talked to the twins after she'd done that."

"Wow," said Neville.

They had reached the library by now. They entered and headed for Hermione's usual corner. She was sitting there, reading an old tattered book and making notes. She looked up as they entered, and put her quill and notebook away as soon as she saw the looks on their faces. Even Ron wasn't smiling now, as his initial exhilaration had given way to sober realization.

They - mostly Ron - explained the situation to her after Harry placed a silencing charm on them. Hermione was horrified, and had her hands over her mouth.

"Merlin," she said when she could speak again. "This is horrible! The Ministry's not going to like this."

"Yeah," said Ron. "First their Royal Inquisitor is turned indefinitely into a toad and now a student from a respected Pureblood family is nearly killed on Hogwarts grounds."

"The Daily Puppet's going to have a field day," added Neville.

"The Daily Puppet?" queried Harry with a smirk. "Nice one, Nev."

Neville shuffled uncomfortably, unused to such praise.

"Yes, we're definitely calling it that from now on," said Hermione as Ron clapped the stout boy on the shoulder. "I wonder how the attacker pulled it off. What if he tries to kill someone else? Harry, you must be careful!"

"Why should Harry be careful, Hermione?" asked Ron. "Apart from the obvious, being Number Last on You Know Who's Christmas Card list? You Know Who didn't do this, so it must be someone on our side, right?"

"I don't know," offered Neville. "They could be trying to off heirs of prominent families."

"That would include you, wouldn't it, Lord Longbottom?" asked Hermione. Neville looked at his feet again.

"You're a Lord, Neville?" asked Ron. "Oh, of course you are, sorry. I forgot."

"Well, no-one expects ol' Chubby me to be anything, really?"

"That's not true, Neville," answered Hermione. "What my brother - and I - are saying is that most people who grow up with family seats on the Wizengamot tend to throw their weight around like Malfoy does."

"Yeah!" said Ron, relieved to have his sister dig him out of his verbal hole. "You're a good, honest bloke and you've probably been getting lessons all your life on being all Lord-like and stuff."

"You've got a seat on the Wizengamot?" asked Harry cautiously. "I don't think I saw you at my trial..."

"My gran was there," answered Neville. "She voted for you, of course. I can only take it up when I'm of age. But you've got a seat too, didn't you know?"

"I what?"

"You didn't know, Harry?" asked Hermione. "The Potters are a really old family. You can take the seat when you're of age. The Headmaster should have told you - didn't he?"

"No one tells me anything," muttered Harry, not looking pleased at all.

"This is becoming too much," said Hermione in a huff. "I don't know what that old coot is up to, but ..."

"Hermione?" asked Neville, shocked. "Are you alright? You just called the Headmaster an old coot!"

"And?" she retorted. "What am I supposed to call him, a young coot? Please, I'm not blind."

"I think he was questioning your use of the word 'coot'," explained Harry with a chuckle.

Hermione grinned inwardly, but kept a straight face. If making jokes by insulting the Headmaster was what she had to do to keep Harry's spirits up, that was what she was going to do.

"Coot," she replied. "Aquatic bird of the genus Fulica. Primarily black-feathered with a white bill. I bet it's his Animagus form."

"Right, of course," replied Ron once he had stopped laughing. "Because Merlin forbid that Hermione Granger would ever call the great Albus Dumbledore something he isn't."

"Quite."

"You two are getting pretty serious with this Weasley twin thing, aren't you?" asked Neville, his head cocked slightly as if to consider the two redheads more carefully.

"We're working on it," replied Hermione. "Twins aren't just born you know. Oh, stop laughing Harry, you're making everyone think I'm not serious." Harry was holding his sides now, and Hermione decided she could at least smile now. "Honestly. Utterly and totally incorrigible lot, you males."

"Hey sis," said Ron after coughing a few times to get everyone's attention. "Are you really going to ask the Headmaster why he didn't tell Harry?"

"Yes," she said seriously. "If something like this falls into the category of Things Harry Does Not Know But Everyone Else Thinks He Knows And Therefore Doesn't Tell Him, then other things could be as well. So I'm going to go yell at the Headmaster and ask him what he's thinking. Meanwhile, we all need to come up things that Harry should know. And you, Harry, need to ask more questions. Knowledge doesn't always fall into your lap, you've got to go hunt for it. Neville, perhaps you could teach Harry - if he wants to learn - about some of the things he'll need to know about Lording. You two okay with that?"

Harry and Neville both nodded.

"Oh, good," she beamed at them. "I also think both of you should investigate whether it's possible to actively take your Wizengamot seats before you're of age."

"What about me and you?" asked Ron.

"You and I," corrected Hermione. "I think it would be a good thing if you joined them. It's probably got a lot of boring detail, but think of the members of the Wizengamot as a chess board. Harry and Neville are going to have to learn to play chess with them. There's a lot of politics involved in getting bills passed, and they'll all the advice they can get. Assuming they want it, of course."

Harry looked at Hermione in yet another light. He could easily see how well she'd do in Slytherin. She was playing Ron very well. He knew Ron knew it as well, but neither of them were complaining. And he'd trust Ron with Wizengamot advice more than he'd trust The Old Coot.

"That's a great idea," said Neville. "I'll also ask Gran to send some of the books she used with me. Maybe you'd like to read them too."

"Get us the titles, Nev," said Harry, "And I'll get three copies of each so Ron and Hermione can have them as well. Hermione, you didn't tell us what you were going to do."

"Me?" asked Hermione. "I already have to think of things that Harry should have been told and other useful details. And this whole conversation gave me an idea that I want to talk to Katie Bell and Dean Thomas about. Hope you don't mind me nicking it."

"What?" asked Ron. "Since when do you talk with them? Okay, I know you hang out with Dean to do Muggle stuff like that football thing, but Katie?"

"Well, that's what happens when your mum supports Chelsea and your dad supports Arsenal," said Hermione defensively, "Those are Muggle football teams in London, just like Dean's West Ham. Katie's Muggleborn as well, you know. One thing I wish I'd had - that Harry and I had had - when we got our Hogwarts letters is a book that explains the wizarding world. Muggle parents would like it, too - mine are still confused about things like Portkeys and robes. Anyway, I want someone else to take the lead in writing it, and I'm hoping that that someone is Katie because she doesn't have to write NEWTs this year and it'll be easier for me to help the writer if she's in Gryffindor. And I'll ask Dean to draw the pictures."

"Why don't you write it?" asked Harry.

"Can you imagine how thick the book would be if I wrote it?" replied Hermione. "No-one would want to read it! It's better if someone else plans it out and I just help with filling in the details."

"Dean's got OWLs," said Ron. The idea made sense to him, but it was his lot in life to play Devil's Advocate where Hermione was concerned.

"Dean likes drawing. It'll be more play than work for him. Besides, it's his choice."

"You know, this could make lots of money," mused Harry.

"Oh Harry darling," said Hermione with a mock pout, "would you like to invest in this li'l ol' project of mine?" She fluttered her eyelashes seductively. Or, as Hermione would say herself, Lavenderishly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Harry, feeling distinctly odd. "I think we'll be going now."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Hermione as he followed Harry and Neville out of the room. She gave him a weak smile.

Her manipulation of those around her was mostly going according to plan, but it was running into problems here. Yes, she cared greatly for Harry James Potter and loved seeing him happy and smiling and behaving like a (non-brooding) kid. Yes, she would happily jump in front of an Avada Kedavra aimed at him, just like anyone else (in her opinion) would.

However, under no circumstances was she prepared to date - or even contemplate romantically - the green-eyed menace. Now, if she could just get her heart to cooperate --- but no, it continued to be fixated on the bastard. Stupid masochistic heart of hers, wanting to be broken again. It would be so easy to just tell Harry that she only saw him as a brother, like she had told Ron, but... that would mean lying to him. She couldn't do that. She could avoid telling him something true, but she couldn't tell him something false.

No, she would have to turn his attentions away instead. Ginny was the best target, and she'd already begun pushing him towards her 'younger sister'. After all, experience said that Harry would choose Ginny over Hermione, didn't it? Hermione was just glad that she could still talk normally with the natural redhead - after all, it wasn't the her fault that Harry liked her more than he liked Hermione. His interest in Hermione was just a crush, and would pass. Harry loved Ginny - probably a Potter Liking Redheads thing. (Which meant it wasn't even Harry's fault, it was just his genes.)

Oh my! Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth! Harry liked redheads! No wonder he was showing interest in her.

She whipped out her wand at once and cast a charm to change her hair colour back to brown. Conjuring a mirror, she verified that it was once again its infamous bushy brown self, and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Monday morning, 10 AM, two days after Draco Malfoy went to St Mungo's.

The assassin - code named Akela - waited at Hogsmeade for Lucius Malfoy to show up. The arrogant bastard had already had one confrontation with the Headmaster at St Mungo's, but would definitely be making a more public one in Hogwarts today. If Akela had anticipated the situation correctly, Fudge and Malfoy would be taking advantage of the situation with Draco to argue that Dumbledore was not fit to be Headmaster of Hogwarts. Together with Acting High Inquisitor Percy Weasley, they would publicly force him out of Hogwarts.

With Lucius dead, the Imperius curse that he had placed on his wife for the past twenty or so years would leave her amenable to persuasion. Draco Malfoy's injuries - Akela had gone a bit overboard with them for personal reasons - would be healed soon enough. It wasn't clear what path Draco would choose to take, but if it was the wrong one, Draco would be in grave danger - Akela would kill him.

It was unfortunate that some innocents would die with Malfoy, of course. Collateral damage was wrong. Akela sighed, thinking of how such a thought would have been anathema to a younger Akela. But this was war.

Lucius exited the Floo at the Three Broomsticks, preceded and succeeded by two Aurors. The quintet made their way to a two-horse coach rented from Hogsmeade's 'premier carriage suppliers', Hobson's Choice. Two Aurors entered the carriage with Malfoy, one went to the roof, and the fourth sat at the front with the coach driver. He cracked his whip and the two magnificent black horses made their way out of Hogsmeade towards the Hogwarts gates.

None of the Aurors checked for the Muggle bomb under the middle seat of the coach.

Akela felt a large pang of guilt for the horses. Horses were cool. If Akela could just cast enough of a shield charm... sure, why not. Perhaps the driver could be saved too. But in that case, the driver would probably be suspected and sent to Azkaban. And that was a fate worse than death. Just the horses then. Perhaps suspicion would be laid on MacNair instead. That would be a nice bonus.

Naw... last minute changes to plans often backfired. To hell with the horses.

Did horses have souls?

Well then.

To the Great Paddock In The Sky with the horses.

They were just out of the village when Akela pressed a button.

BOOM!

Akela flew over to the coach. There were definitely no survivors. There were specks of long blond hair lying about, and tattered shreds of Malfoy robe, but the parts were quite unidentifiable. Excellent.

Now for the final touch.

Akela's wand pointed at the sky.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Akela cast another spell into the sky.

Daily Prophet, Tuesday, the day afterwards

YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNS - LUCIUS MALFOY ASSASSINATED!

Dark Mark Sighted!

The Ministry has announced, with great regret, the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to Magical Britain. His first act was to murder one of our most respectable sons, Lucius Malfoy.

The announcement was made by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, yesterday evening at a press conference.

"It is with the utmost regret that I reveal that Lucius Malfoy, along with four Aurors and a coach driver, were murdered this morning near Hogsmeade. He was on his way to visit Hogwarts to discuss how security there might be improved with the attempted assassination of his son Draco on Saturday. The Dark Mark was cast at the scene of this despicable crime. This proves beyond doubt that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has risen once again. I urge the public not to panic, since the Ministry has this well under control."

The Dark Mark appeared alongst with the words 'You-Know-Who (though his true name was the one actually given, we use this name for the sanity of our readers) Lives Again. Surrender or die.'

Other sources within the Ministry remain skeptical about the official announcement, particularly in relation to the role of Harry Potter. One official, who declined to be named said 'We do not consider it beyond the realm of possibility that an ally of his - quite possibly without the knowledge of the Boy-Who-Lived - killed Mr Malfoy to make it appear that his sensational story of how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named arose last June at the end of the Triwizard Tournament.'

Lucius Malfoy is survived by his fifteen-year old son Draco (currently recovering at St Mungo's) and his wife Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black).

"What a load of crap!" said Hermione, having read the article in the Daily Prophet to the entire Gryffindor table at breakfast. She threw the paper angrily onto the table, upturning Dean's bowl of cereal and spilling milk and cereal onto his robes. "Oops. Sorry Deano." She scourgified the mess off in embarassment. He grinned at her and gave her an OK sign.

"What's that mean?" asked Ron.

"It's a Muggle hand signal for Okay," explained Katie Bell. She and Dean had been sitting with Hermione, and by default Harry and the Weasleys, a lot recently, thanks to Hermione's 'Magical Britain for Dummies' project. "See, your thumb and forefinger make the O and the four fingers kinda make a K." She demonstrated again.

Ron and Ginny practiced the signal - they weren't the only ones at the table to do so - while Hermione continued. "You're right, Neville, it's still the Daily Puppet. Even when they finally admit that Harry was right, the bast - the rotters still claim he's ..."

"Mental?" offered Harry with a weak grin. He was rubbing his scar again and looked decidedly red-eyed, considering that he had had no sleep the previous night. Voldemort had been very angry.

"You alright there, Harry?" asked Ron.

"I'm fine," answered Harry.

Ginny and Hermione snorted.

"Harry," said Dean slowly. "Even I know that 'fine' is Harry Potter speak for 'I need to go to the Hospital Wing'."

"Shut UP, DEAN!" hissed Harry.

Dean shrugged. "No worries, mate. You're behaving just like I did when I was ten and broke my leg and was in hospital for a month. I was crabby as hell and yelled at my friends who wanted to help me. I lost two of them that way. That won't happen to you because your friends are more loyal than mine were, but you are definitely hurting them by not telling them. You don't have to tell them everything, but tell them something. Besides, it'll get them off your back quicker that way."

"Dean!" hissed Ginny, raising her hand to slap him on the head. Harry quickly reached out to stop her.

"It's alright, Ginny," said Harry. "Dean's right. How much time have we got before class starts, Mione?"

"Twenty minutes," she replied. "By the way, have you told the Headmaster?"

"I will, once I tell you," he answered. "Let's go to a classroom and I'll explain. Oy, Fred, George! Weasley Family meeting!"

"Mum will be so happy when I tell her this!" said Ginny into Hermione's ear as the five redheads and one brunette left the Great Hall together. Hermione smiled.

"Now that the most Quidditch-mad family I've ever seen has left us," said Dean as he watched their exiting backs, "what do you say to visiting Hogsmeade next weekend, Ms Bell?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Mr Thomas?" asked Katie with a smile.

"Call it what you will. I'm calling it a date, yes."

"Sure, I don't plan to be washing my hair that day."

"Excellent," he said, pleased. "Now, about that picture of the Nessie you two want, Hagrid says all the pictures he's ever seen are crap. So he's offered to take me to Loch Ness in two weeks so I can draw her myself..."

The Weasleys (and 'Weasleys') found a classroom quickly enough, and the twins cast silencing charms.

"Thanks," said Harry. He moved his bangs aside so they could see his scar. It was glowing red and ugly. Ginny made a horrified 'Meep!' noise and Hermione looked away.

"Bloody hell, mate," said Ron.

"It was bleeding before," stated Harry.

"Sleep last night?" asked Fred.

Harry shook his head. "He's really angry. I got a couple of visions where he's Crucioing some random Death Eater for the hell of it. There's absolutely no way that he ordered Malfoy's death."

"You think the Order..." suggested Ginny.

"I don't think so, but I really don't know," replied Harry. "What do you think, Mione?"

"The Headmaster doesn't believe in that sort of attack," replied Hermione. "I can see someone like Moody doing this, but he would ask Professor Dumbledore's permission first. And he would not get it. I'm pretty sure we're dealing with a third party."

"Bloody hell, there's more than two sides here?" asked Ron.

"What does Sirius say?" asked Ginny.

"He's shocked," replied Harry. "But he says it's probably a good thing. Lucius had a lot of control over the Ministry. With one blow, that's gone. He's not controlling Fudge any more. The Ministry says Voldemort is back, but ..."

"You think they can change their minds?" asked George.

"Have any of you talked with your father yet?" asked Hermione. The real Weasleys shook their head.

"He'd never write something like that using OWL post," answered George.

Harry suddenly looked at Hermione with a piercing expression. "Fine, Harry," she replied, "I'll create some more notebooks. And yes, you're right, I should have thought of this earlier."

"What?" asked Ginny, looking admiringly at her 'older sister'. "You mean you created those notebooks for Harry to talk with Sirius and Professor Lupin? Wow! I thought they did it and it was some great Marauder trick like the map! I mean, it's still a great trick, but really, just, wow!"

"That's our Mione!" said the twins in unison, and proceeded to ruffle Hermione's hair in unison. She shot a pair of Tantallegras at them, which they quickly countered.

"The good thing about having terrible hair," said Hermione, "is that it can't get any worse. But I'll still Hex anyone who messes with it!"

"Hey!" said Ginny. "Don't you realize what this means? Sirius can go free now! The Ministry believes you now, Harry, right? And you saw Wormtail last year, right? Isn't that enough evidence?"

Harry visibly brightened, and turned to look at Hermione. So did all the Weasleys.

"What?" she asked. "How would I know?"

"You're Hermione Granger," explained Fred slowly as if speaking to a small child. You know everything."

"Oh please," she scoffed, but she was smiling. Ginny was the only one to notice the quick small scowl that Harry sent in Fred's direction. "Let me see ... okay, it depends completely on Fudge. If he can be persuaded to give Sirius a trial - the one he should have got in the first place - then we can prove his innocence with our pensieve memories. But then people will ask for the full memory of what happened last year at the Riddle graveyard. And that's going to mean showing Lucius as a Death Eater. And that's going to show that this attack was not ordered by Voldemort."

"F--k", said Ron, once he had realized the situation. Hermione muttered something about 'language' but she wasn't even half-hearted about it.

"I think we should stick to the truth if anyone asks us," said Harry, "Voldemort is back, but he did not kill Lucius Malfoy because Lucius was one of his stooges. And we have no idea who killed the bastard."

"Why should we wait for anyone to ask us?" asked Ginny. "Couldn't we tell the Prophet, I mean the Puppet? You're the Boy Who Lived, whether you like it or not. The public is listening to you know - kinda - they'd love to print your interview."

Harry thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head. "No, I don't trust the Puppet. They'll twist whatever I say."

"Harry," said Hermione, starting to pace in excitement, "I think Gin's on to something here. What if you gave the interview to a newspaper that would print the entire truth?" She looked pointedly at Ginny.

"Yes, but that doesn't exist," replied Harry.

"Yes, it does!" squealed Ginny, leaping onto Hermione to hug her. "The Quibbler! Luna's dad runs it! I can ask her today!"

"Er," said Ron, "but the Quibbler is a little - er - off - who's going to believe what's written there?"

"It's the first public statement by the Boy Who Lived," said Hermione. "People will read it. And we could have the interview also sent to newspapers outside the country, and have a press conference so everyone can see the Pensieve memories... oh shit, I'm sorry Harry, I know how hard this is for you and how you hate using that stupid title, are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry shook his head, as if slowly realizing the amount of publicity that was going to happen here. "No, I don't like it," he said slowly, "but if it can get Sirius free, I'll do anything."

"Oh shit," said Ron, looking at his watch. "We're late for the first lesson."

"Oh no!" cried Ginny, "I've got Potions! Snape's going to kill me!" She left the room with great alacrity.

"Lil Sis can move," mused Hermione. "Come on, we've got to History." She grabbed Harry's and Ron's arms and dragged them out the door.

Fred and George remained in the room. They had a free period.

"Do you think we can make any money out of those notebooks?" asked Fred.

"Hmm?" asked George. "Oh, tons. We should definitely get her to join the Wheezes. The witch is brilliant."

"And scary."

"Yes, very. At the very least, we've got to keep her in Britain. Still wondering if she's hiding what we think she's hiding, though."

"Indeed, brother mine. You sent that letter to Bill, right? Do you think he'll ask Percy?"

"Damn!" said George, reaching into his robe pockets. "Almost forgot. I got the reply while you were chatting up Angelina." He opened the letter and they read it together.

To my darling and adorable little brothers Legolas and Aragorn,

I don't know what you guys are up to, but judging from the contents and the fact that you two (of all people!) asked me to contact Percy, I know it is important.

I did contact Percy under the banner of a family truce, and we met yesterday. Our entire conversation was very interesting. Suffice to say that Percy is on the verge of a mental breakdown with recent events, and that his unstinting support of Fudge has some very logical reasons. I'm not saying I agree with Percy - I'm saying that he has reason to be acting as he is acting and that the reasons include coercion from parties that have recently met untimely fates.

In English : Lucius was blackmailing Percy. I am not sure what he was being blackmailed with, though. I suspect the safety of Penny may be involved. Percy also made his own mistakes, and he is afraid to come back to us. We need to welcome him back. My opinion is that we should. Percy has always made his own decisions - what matters is who is giving him the information to make the decisions with. If we welcome him, we can give him our information.

We did discuss both questions you asked.

(1) Yes, the Weasley seat in on the Wizengamot exists, but it is inactive until us Weasleys can fork over a million galleons to the Malfoys. Precisely, 1 328 524 galleons. It was once a much smaller amount, but there's interest. Yes, this has very much to do with the events of 1836.

(2) It is acceptable for another party - that secret investor of yours, I suppose? - to provide the money on our behalf. Acceptable to the Wizengamot at least. It's not acceptable to the Weasleys. However, if the Weasley seat were formally beholden to the Other Party - in other words, we vote exactly as they want us to vote - I think I can persuade dad to take the money. Especially if the 'other party' in question is owed a life debt by dad.

This is your all-wise and all-knowing and supremely worthy Eldest Brother signing off,

Bill

"Wow," said Fred, "I wonder who doesn't suspect that our secret investor is Harry."

"Bet even mum does," replied George. "With any luck, she'll remain in denial till our grandchildren have grandchildren."

"Since when did you start thinking about grandchildren?"

"There's nothing wrong with thinking about grandchildren," Fred defended himself. "But when you start thinking about children, then you're in trouble."

Unknown Location, Unknown Time, Unknown Everything really...

"Have you had any luck tracing Akela?" asked the short, lean man who was called - much to his chagrin - Bambi. He hadn't slept for days, nor gone home for days. His second wife had just left him - rather permanently - and his children - well, he tried not to think about them too much.

"No," replied the Unspeakable who worked with him. "We've narrowed it down to a few million dimensions, but it will take several years - maybe - to determine which one it is. If Akela did this on purpose, she covered her tracks well."

"Of course I know she covered her bloody tracks like a bloody genius, Crazy," muttered Bambi, placing his head in his hands. "I was married to her for three years. I know she's a bloody genius. And then that f--king c-nt had to go use Polyjuice to make each of us think the other was cheating and ... then I married the bloody c-nt."

"We did figure out one more thing though," said Crazy evenly. She had heard the rant several times already. She was still angry with herself for not putting all the clues together earlier.

But it was too late now. Her all-time favourite couple (other than her beloved hubbykins and herself) of Akela and Bambi were forever apart now.

"I think we can reduce the number of dimensions to just under a million within a year," said Crazy seriously. "And then you'll be able to send messages to her even though we don't know exactly where she is."

Bambi brightened. "So I could explain everything to her? Yes! That's great! By the way, how will you send the object to the correct dimension when you don't know which one is the right one?"

"Oh," said Crazy, "We'll be duplicating it and sending it to every dimension."

"What?" exclaimed Bambi. "Are you crazy?"

"I thought we've been through this before. Yes, my code name is Crazy. My real name is unspeakable, which is rather good because that's exactly what we are, isn't it?"

"Oh sweet Merlin, lead me not into Nargles, just deliver me from the nutty Nargle-lover ..."

"Yes," continued Crazy happily, "it does take a lot of energy to duplicate that much parchment, which is why we have to wait for the number of possible dimensions to drop below a million. And yes, I'm already thinking of the smallest possible size of parchment - I was in Ravenclaw for a reason, you know!"

"Sorry, Crazy," replied Bambi. "I'll buy you lunch. What time is it?"

"Eleven," replied Crazy.

"Oh good, that's close enough to lunch time."

"Eleven at night. You've really been out of it these past few days, Bambi dear."

"Bloody hell, Luna." Bambi sank back in his armchair.

"Don't use my real name, you idiot! It's against the rules!"

"Rules are like Death Eaters - they're made to be broken."

The last line is derived from the quote in the 1980s sitcom A.L.F. where the furry alien says "Traditions are like plates. They are made to be broken."