HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
CHAPTER 12
FIGHTS, SQUIRMISHES, AND ALL OUT WAR
The London Times - Wednesday, October 21st.
"WELL-KNOWN UNDUSTRIALIST AND BUSINESSMAN VIKTOR KRUM'S BODY WASHES ON THE SHORES OF THE DANUBE RIVER.
The body of Viktor Krum, one of Romania's leading businessmen, founder and President of the Krum Cleaning Supplies International empire, has been positively identified by members of his family a couple of hours after having washed up on the shore of the Danube River late last Monday evening. The preliminary report of Bucharest's Medical examiner's indicates that Mr. Krum suffered cardiac arrest after being exposed to an incredibly powerful force field of yet unknown origin. Attempts to make the body disappear were also obvious, since a large chain was attached to both Mr. Krum's feet when he washed ashore. Bucharest police has officially declared this shocking death a homicide, and are investigating night and day to bring answers to the family and to the business community.
Mr. Krum had officially been missing since August 24th. A police report had been filed on that day by Krum Cleaning Supplies's Director of finances, Boris Nedelcu, who had declared at the time that Mr. Krum was `religiously' at his desk at 6 AM every Monday morning, and always gave notice of his traveling schedule to his work associates. His absence from work on Monday the 24th was, according to Nedelcu, highly irregular. Furthermore, there had been recent break-in attempts at the KCSI plant, prompting Nedelcu to call the police as a precaution.
Speculations run wild as to the reason behind the assassination of Viktor Krum. Many foreign policy experts believe that an international terrorist organisation is probably at work here. Insiders at KCSI have revealed that just prior to the murder, a new researcher from the UK had been hired directly by Krum - a very unusual practice of KCSI, whose high-level employees usually come from Bucharest University and are required to go through a thorough screening by the Human Resources Department. The said employee conveniently resigned the Friday prior to Mr. Krum's disappearance, making her two-week stay at KCSI highly suspicious. John Forsythe, England's Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, has vehemently denied rumours of such organization having roots in UK soil, stating that `strict policies of the last ten years have rooted terrorism out of England.'
A brilliant businessman, Viktor Krum was also seen as the natural successor to Dr. Anton Netuniau, the leader of the Reformist Party who plans to retire next month. Some analysts were already predicting a victory for Krum at the next national election in two years, and a new era of honest and capable leadership for the nation of Romania.
A press conference is scheduled to be held by the Romanian Government, the Bucharest Police Department and the Board of directors of KCSI at 2 pm this afternoon to issue a statement and answer some questions about the incident."
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The room was filled with mounting tension as the President of Romania, Antonin Dromilescu, accompanied by his attaches, entered and proceeded to the podium. He was soon followed by Viktor Antonescu, Chief of Police of the city of Bucharest. Finally, Boris Nedelcu, Director of Finances and acting President of KCSI closed the procession accompanied by what looked like an administrative assistant.
Clearing his throat, Dromilescu approached the microphone.
"I am here representing the great nation of Romania, and its people. We have suffered a great loss. Viktor Krum rose from humble beginnings, built a successful company from scratch, and was now looking to extend his leadership to his countrymen. He will be missed greatly."
He paused for effect, and to let the statement sink in. In front of him were microphones and television cameras of a host of radio and TV channels, and the conference was being transmitted via satellite all around the world.
"The police has confirmed that this is the work of a terrorist organization, based in England, that has targeted Romania on its way to destroying lives in the rest of the world. It is most unfortunate that I have been met with resistance from Britain's official on the matter, and that I haven't obtained any cooperation from their part; therefore …"
A heavy silence fell on the room.
"Therefore, the Romanian government has unanimously voted to sever all diplomatic ties with the United Kingdom, and considers this lack of cooperation as an admission of guilt - in other words, as a declaration of war."
A roar of displeasure instantly mounted within the group of foreign journalists and reporters sitting on the right side of the room. All of the sudden, four men sporting military clothing and armed with state-of-the-art semi-automatic weapons appeared from behind the curtain at the front of the press-room, taking a guard position at each corner and releasing the safety of their weapons. Four more came in from the entrance at the back of the room and deployed themselves to occupy the back corners and both emergency exits to the sides of the room.
Silence came back, and Dromilescu continued, on a more aggressive tone.
"I have signed the necessary orders this morning to place our armies on full alert. We will not be intimidated by anyone, even Great Britain - and Viktor Krum's death will not go unpunished. I have given our Chief Security Officer and leader of our army, General Igor Karkarov, a blanket authorization to attack and destroy any location suspected to be harbouring terrorists, in any European location."
Terror and confusion started showing on faces everywhere in the room. Was Dromilescu really putting the country on a full state of alert for something that hadn't been proved yet? Many journalists had their hands up to ask questions.
"But President Dromilescu? You are breaking so many treaties … How is it possible to warrant -"
"Not yet! We will answer questions in due time! I will now invite Bucharest's Chief of police, who will say a few words about the official results of the investigation."
Viktor Antonescu, a stocky and heavyset man with a large mustache, approached the microphone.
"Our investigators have been working day and night since the recovery of Mr. Krum's body. We have been able to determine that a terrorist organisation that calls itself the `Order of the Phoenix' is in fact behind this vicious attack. It operates out of the London area, but details are very sketchy as of yet. We have also issued two international arrest warrants. The first one for a woman named Hermione Granger - she was a researcher at KCSI who stayed for two weeks, and resigned the day preceding Krum's disappearance. We believed she gained access to crucial information that she relayed to the Order of the Phoenix, allowing them to stage their coup. The other one is for a man named Albus Dumbledore, an obscure and delusionnal cult-leader whose name has been associated, over the years, with a number of marginal groups promoting witchcraft in some villages of England's countryside. He is believed, this time, to have organized his followers into a more elaborate and militant group, this `Order of the Phoenix'. Both individuals are considered highly dangerous, and pictures have been wired to every police department throughout Europe."
The Chief of police then took out two posters, respectively with the pictures of Hermione and Dumbledore, handing it to the guard posted to his left. The guard plastered the pictures on the back-wall directly on the red curtain, so that everyone could see.
Dromilescu came back to the microphone, and introduced Nedescu as a representative of Krum's Cleaning Supplies International.
Nedescu was visibly shaken, and took a few minutes before speaking.
"Viktor was not only a great leader, but also a great friend … I want to state, in the name of all KCSI executives and employees, that we are deeply shaken by his death. I personally will work in the coming weeks with the Board of directors and our shareholders to ensure that Viktor's legacy remains, and that somehow his spirit remains the driving force behind future KCSI endeavours."
President Dromilescu came back to the microphone for the moment everyone was anxiously waiting for.
"We will now take a few questions …" He looked around the room, and pointed to a seasoned reporter in the front row.
"Yes, Bruce Caplan, from the London Times."
"Thank you, Mr. President. My question is for Chief of Police Antonescu. You mentioned that an arrest warrant was issued for one `Hermione Granger'. Have you made a connection with the bombing of the Granger clinic in London a few weeks back? According to my research, the Grangers had a daughter named `Hermione' and this cannot be a mere coincidence, can it?"
Antonescu suddenly got quite excited.
"Indeed, we have established that she is indeed the daughter of the late Stephen and Eleanor Granger. We have reason to believe, as of now, that she has been brainwashed by her organization, and that she will stop at nothing - even murdering her parents - to further the cause she has embraced. What few people know is that she has lived away from her parent's residence since her eleventh birthday, supposedly attending some boarding school in the remote England countryside. But the truth is probably darker … We assume that's where she was brainwashed into becoming a terrorist. We consider her, I repeat, extremely dangerous - that is why we send out the arrest warrants this morning …"
Another journalist jumped right in.
"Patrick O'Connor, Irish Daily News. Do you have any leads on her so far?"
"Yes, minutes after circulating the pictures on news bulletins across Europe, we received numerous eye-witness reports that placed Hermione Granger in Paris about a month ago. She was travelling with a shady individual described as tall and black-haired - but descriptions of this guy are sketchy and contradictory so far. We also have reports of Granger being in a shady neighboorhood of London the very next day. So these people are very mobile, and have vast resources at their disposal … They are a highly organized force, that must be reckoned with at all costs."
Eric Bizet, a columnist from Paris Match, asked the next question.
"President Dromilescu, you mentioned that a certain - let me see - Igor Karkarov is now Romania's Chief Security Officer. Correct me if I'm wrong, but hasn't this office been filled in a rather precipitated fashion? I have made inquiries, and this Igor Karkarov seems ot appear out of nowhere … How do you justify nominating such an unknown figure, with no public record, to this kind of highly sensitive office?"
Dromilescu suddenly appeared upset, and impatient. He blurted a quick answer.
"General Karkarov has been the head of … Romania's secret police for many years, and had worked clandestinely with the KGB prior to that. So of course, this is why there is very little … `records' of his activities. However, with the unexpected passing of General Raditelou last month, we believed we needed someone that could make decisions quickly, and that had a proven track-record - whether it be public or not. We are convinced Igor Karkarov is that man. Next question, please?"
But Bizet wouldn't let go.
"Aren't there quite too many coincidences here? This `nomination', a so-called `terrorist rink' that Great Britain has absolutely no knowledge of, two similar bombings, and now a near-declaration of war … Isn't true, Mr. President, that you have been looking for years for an excuse to start open hostilities with Great-Britain? Ever since, in fact, being formally accused of receiving bribes during the trial of those Romanian drug smugglers that were operating out of London! I would suggest that -"
The guards posted on each side of the room lifted their weapon not so subtly.
"SILENCE!" Dromilescu thundered, seeing that this question was provoking an uproar in other journalists.
He calmed down before speaking. "I apologize for my outburst, but Mr. Bizet … I believe I have already answered your question. Furthermore, what you are implying is out of line, and has been dealt with formally by our government and the leaders of Great-Britain."
Eric Bizet got up, and left the room indignantly, muttering unflattering words in French under his breath. Just before getting to the door, he turned around and shouted.
"I hope your are soon exposed for what you really are, Dromilescu! Your are nothing but a low-class thug, and you are using this situation to plunge Europe back into the Dark Ages! You will -"
The guards at the entrance pushed him out with the butts of their automatic rifles, and slammed the door behind him.
An uneasy silence fell on the room.
As the questions timidly continued, a journalist woman sitting in the back of the room put her pencil in her purse, and prepared to leave discreetly. She got up, and was stopped by the guard at the back-door, who took a register and looked at her press-badge.
"Mrs. Skeeter, from … The Daily Prophet?"
He smirked before continuing.
"What's that? Another one of these trashy, apocalyptic tabloids?"
Rita smiled forcibly, and laughed. "Exactly! Original name, isn't it? Our readers don't mind, though. It's the news they love!"
The soldier rolled his eyes in a condescending attitude.
"You may go, ma'am."
Rita sighed with relief.
This was bad, very bad. She had to get to Dumbledore, as quick as possible …
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"Arrest warrants are circulating throughout Europe, and news bulletin are showing pictures of Dumbledore and Granger every day. We have also sent international arrest warrants to Canada and the United States. Granger will be ours soon, I promise you that."
Karkarov had spoken with a sadistic smile, and the man sitting in front of him to his desk laughed with pleasure.
"Well done, Igor! Everything is now in place for the second phase of the plan. We launch war, kill Muggles, and in the confusion we get Granger, our bate to get to Harry Potter. Before long, Igor, not only will we get rid of Potter, but we will be well on our way to putting an end to this ridiculous `Old Rule' - and ruling the world once and for all."
"I told you, Lord Maldemort, that you could put your trust in me … Now you see how much more quickly we will reach our objective!"
"Indeed, Igor, indeed …" Maldemort adjusted his Muggle tie around his shirt collar, but just then his face dropped from the elated expression he had harboured just a few moments before.
"How is your search for Draco progressing?", he spat dryly. "It is becoming urgent we find him now!"
Karkarov's face became grave and solemn.
"I have scouts everywhere, but he is nowhere in sight. He was seen a while back in Hogsmeade, which make me suspect he could be hiding at Hogwarts …"
Maldemort's expression of bitterness turned to rage. "Hogwarts? How would that even be possible? Even we cannot get in there!"
Karkarov sighed. "Yes, it is a mystery, even to me … That is if that's where he is, of course. I must hand it to you, Lord Maldemort. You must have trained him well, for him to just vanish into thin air like that!"
Maldemort shot a killing look to Karkarov, and hissed, "Yes, well … You see how he repays me! Foolish, foolish boy!! Nevertheless … We must focus on our plan, and forget about Draco for the time being. He will not derail our endeavours this time!"
As he walked to the huge doors of Karkarov's office at the Romanian Ministry of War, Maldemort spoke one last word.
"Make sure I am notified of any change, and as soon as you have the Granger girl in custody."
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"Harry! HARRY! Did you see this?"
Hermione was waving a newspaper frantically as Harry, who had just gotten out of the shower, walked into the kitchen. She seemed completely hysterical.
"What's the matter?"
"JUST READ!" Harry had never seen Hermione in such complete disarray.
Harry grabbed the newspaper, and perused the headlines. It was hard not to miss what Hermione was referring to: "TERRORISTS AT LARGE - ROMANIA OFFICIALLY IN A STATE OF WAR". Underneath it was a large picture of Dromilescu shouting in front of journalists, and right below two more pictures - one of Hermione, the other of Dumbledore.
Harry was floored. He read the main article rapidly, smirking as he went along.
"Wow … They say in here that you're to be considered EXTREMELY dangerous, and not to be approached you under any circumstances! You are cute in the picture, though …"
Harry smiled a wide, malicious grin. "Maybe I should reconsider marrying you then?"
Hermione didn't seem amused at all. "Harry! This is no laughing matter!"
"Yeah, I guess you're right … Hermione, that means we have to get to Hogwarts NOW, before the residents of Godric's Hollow see this", he said waving the newspaper. "We have been discrete, but some people have seen you for sure and are bound to report it."
"But Harry, we can't just -"
Harry took her face between his hands. "Hermione, there's no time! You're wanted for MURDER! You and I know that Muggles take this very seriously. Let's get out of here - immediately!"
Just as if to confirm Harry's observation, police sirens started echoing in the distance, getting clearer and closer as the minutes went by.
"SEE? That's for you, I'm sure of it! People must have called the police. Let's go to the Portkey, quick!"
They both ran to a small room upstairs, were the only furniture was a very unobtrusive coat rack. They both put their hands on it, and after pronouncing the usual spell, they were gone.
Not too early … A few seconds later, two police officers started ringing the doorbell, as two more were trying to get into the house through the back entrance …
---------------
"What about this one? What do you think?" Ron asked his sister with a bit of apprehension.
Ginny lovingly pushed Ron from the storefront window, and looked it over for a moment. "No, definitely not … This is way too plain for Luna … You want something that will say that she is really special to you!"
Ginny had graciously offered Ron to help him with a present for Luna … They had been officially dating for a month now, and he wanted to give her something for the occasion. They had spent the whole afternoon looking for something, and had found nothing. It was getting late now, on the now less busy Kensington High Street - it was, after all, a week day.
Ron seemed suddenly ecstatic. "Ginny!! Look at that - now this says `Luna', for sure!"
Turning her head, Ginny saw a unique, yet beautiful, silver necklace with a small medallion shaped into a lion's head. She was about to comment positively when a fast-moving shadow above Ron's shoulder caught her attention. A tall man with a black trench-coat had emerged from a side street, and was quickly coming their way, but … Was that a wand he was taking out of his pocket? Ginny barely had enough time to jump forward and push Ron hard towards the street, a fraction of a second before a burning, blueish ray of light streaked right above him.
"WWHAMMM!!!!!"
The powerful beam hit a car parked just ten feet further, which exploded into a huge mushroom of fire … The storefront windows all shattered in a deafening noise, and debris flew everywhere. Then, in an instant, what seemed like twenty simultaneous detonations turned the street right in front of Palace Green into a blazing inferno. In the minutes that followed, all hell seems to break lose into an apocalyptic, terrifying show of deafening noise, scorching heat and devastating flames.
Ron came to, and opened his eyes, instantly noticing that something was wrong indeed as he laid flat on his face on the hard, uneven and unbearably hot pavement of the street. He managed to bring a numb hand to feel the side of his face, which burned and felt wet and sticky. The sight of a bloody hand confirmed that he was injured, his fall on the pavement having probably caused the injury. Instinctively, he tried to look around, searching for his sister, but could barely move … Something, or someone, was on top of him, greatly limiting his movements.
"GINNY!", he whimpered, suddenly struck by excruciating, throbbing pain radiating from one of his legs. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"
The stores closest to the first explosion were now engulfed in flames, and the deafening roar of the fire made it impossible to hear anything. Moreover, sirens could be heard in the distance, and at least ten or twelve car alarms gone crazy - though adding a concerto flavour to the whole ordeal- made it absolutely impossible to call out to someone. Ron twisted his neck to try to look behind him to see what was pinning him down, barely able to breathe now that the pain was overtaking him fully with fierceness.
What he saw almost made his heart stop. On top of him laid the corpse of someone he didn't quite know, probably of a passer-by. The man was obese, weighing most probably 3 to 4 times Ron's own body weight, and judging by the ugly disfigurement to his face and the odd angles of his arms as opposed to the rest of his body, he had probably been catapulted from the ground by the sheer force of the explosion and had hit - at full speed - the lamppost right beside the spot where Ron had stood minutes before. He had landed, dead, on Ron as Ginny had pushed him for cover.
"GINNY!", he tried to scream again, but to no avail. Pulling himself with all his might, he manage to slide from underneath the unfortunate chap, but realized his left leg still refused to cooperate - there was something wrong. A second look told him what the problem was. A huge wooden spike, probably from one of the destroyed stores, had stabbed him in the thigh, about six inches above the knee. It had gone cleanly through, and though the idea of leaving the stick there was sickening, it would at least keep his leg from bleeding - which would probably be heavy if he took it out. Ron decided it was best not to touch it, and manage to hoist himself on his other leg, that seemed good enough.
"Blimey!! What are we going to do now?", he said, frantically hopping about and looking around for Ginny. The sight was ghastly, as people were running around screaming, getting out of building in flames with their children and a few belongings. There were at least fifty mangled bodies in a fifty feet radius all around. Thick smoke was quickly plunging Kensington High Street into a dark nightmare when a chilling thought hit him. He looked around the street, trying to see if this wasn't the work of a dark wizard. He didn't see anything, though. Whoever had caused this was either dead or gone. He then saw a young girl sitting against a wall about fifty feet from where he had originally fallen. She looked in a daze, was ashen white and splattered with blood, and even though her hair was darkened by soot, ashes and dirt, there could be no doubt it had originally been red underneath.
"GINNY!" Ron hopped furiously towards her, and she seemed to have seen him, because as he got to her she exploded in tears.
"Ron, you're alive! I - I was sure you were gone!" Ginny seemed exhausted, and unable to breathe properly.
"Something … er, er, something hit me in the chest", she said, rasping and panting, "and I'm having a hard time breathing … I think I broke some ribs. What do you -"
She couldn't finish her sentence. The deep, deafening and chilling sound of a great magnitude explosion shook the whole square where they were standing. The concussion that followed was so intense it accelerated their heartbeat and threw them on the ground. Seconds after, a powerful wind swept the square, throwing everyone still standing to the pavement and displacing debris as easily as straw in a barn. In the distance, when looking to the beginning of the street, a blazing tower of fire could be seen - it seemed to be coming their way.
After a second or two, Ron got up from on top of his sister, where he had instinctively thrown himself, and tried to catch his breath.
"WOW! That was another explosion, but it was way more powerful … I wonder if -"
His question didn't remain in the air for long … Three black MiG-29 fighter jets thundered overhead, looping up to gain altitude after apparently dropping explosives maybe a few blocks from where they were.
Ginny looked up and squinted. "What on Earth was that? Look at these military aircrafts, Ron … They bear the flag of Romania!!"
Ron tried to see, but the jets were already to high in the sky and fading fast.
"What in the world is happening today? Has the world gone mad or something? And … Ginny? Who attacked us, by the way?" He winced in pain and disgust as he once again took a look at the dark wooden spike emerging from his leg.
But no answer came from his sister.
"Ginny, I just asked you -" He didn't finish his sentence, as he noticed Ginny's sudden change of expression.
Ginny was staring right in front of her, wide-eyed, mouth gaping, in a state of utter shock. Slowly, her hand started pointing in front of her. She couldn't say anything.
Ron turned around, and immediately located what she was pointing at. A man with a black trench-coat was lying in the middle of a pile of debris. He seemed dead, or unconscious at best. Slowly, Ron approached the body, and with much effort and pain, turned him around so he could see his face. The man's face was very familiar to Ron, even in death - it was Vincent Crabbe, bleary eyed, but looking as if he couldn't believe the last thing he saw before dying.
"Now here's something really strange", Ron added, as Ginny joined him besides the body. He directed Ginny's attention to Crabbe's forehead, where an open, disgusting and bloody gash in the shape of lightning bolt was clearly visible and oozing blood with what looked like brain matter.
Ginny shrieked. "Ron! It was Crabbe that attacked us, I recognize the black coat … But he was killed by another … wizard! This is the mark of the Avada Kedavra curse! The cut has the same shape as Harry's scar!
Ron sat down, suddenly overcome by the situation.
"Blimey! I'm totally confused - there is something really wrong happening here, Ginny! We should leave, the police and firemen are already here helping people. Let's not linger around …"
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The London Times, Friday October 23rd.
"GREAT BRITAIN DECLARES WAR TO ROMANIA!
Great Britain's Prime Minister, Ronald Westminster, issued a statement today from his war room from an undisclosed location.
`Romania has gone too far. Unwarranted attacks and bombings have killed hundreds of civilians since late Wednesday night, and we will not stand by to witness such cowardice. Our allies, the United States, have confirmed that a fleet of destroyers and the USS Enterprise aircraft carrier are on their way to the Baltic Sea to establish a base to launch a retaliatory attack if necessary. The British Royal Air Force is also standing on full alert, and is awaiting orders. This is madness. Romania's President has lost all sense of civilized thinking. He's out for blood. Stand assured, however, that we will not let him spill the blood of the English people. I now urge him to surrender, if he wants to spare his countrymen from sad repercussions.'
An official order from the Security Council of the United Nations, unanimously signed by all members, has been forwarded to President Dromilescu, ordering him to immediately stop his attacks on England. So far, there has been no comment from Romania's officials on the matter. "
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"So what do you think, Professor? The Imperius Curse?" Harry looked at Dumbledore expecting a clear answer.
Dumbledore looked successively at Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny, who were still visibly shaken by the ordeal they had lived in the heart of London a few hours before. Ginny had a few cuts and bruises on her face, and was still breathing with difficulty.
"Most probably, Harry, most probably … Although it is not very commendable for a seasoned wizard to control a Muggle, but nevertheless …"
Dumbledore had rarely been so grave in his demeanour, pausing at every sentence, weighing each word carefully. For one rare occasion, he was letting on that the situation was worrying him.
He turned abruptly to Hermione.
"Miss Granger? Are you absolutely sure there could be no incriminating or suspicious document that the police could seriously harm you with?"
Hermione looked sad. The news of Viktor's death had shaken her up, and once again her emotions were getting the best of her.
"No, Professor … As I said before, the only paper I signed was a formal letter of hiring, and I believe it was put in my file. But other than that, there is nothing - if something comes up, it is certainly a fabrication …"
She sighed heavily.
"This is all my fault", she muttered, fighting to hold back tears. "If I had made the right decision from the start, none of this would have happened, Viktor would be alive …"
Harry interrupted her immediately.
"Hermione! You couldn't have known all this beforehand! Had you stayed here, someone else would probably have been hurt! Krum probably died because …"
Harry swallowed hard, looked down, as if it pained him to say the words.
"Viktor Krum probably died because he tried to protect you, Hermione. He made that choice, instead of cooperating with the enemy. He - he was still in love with you, you know … He has always been."
Ron, sitting to his right, nodded silently.
Hermione looked up at Harry, and melted into tears.
"How can I live with myself? People are dying around me just because I'm … a target? I feel responsible, and yet, powerless! We've got to stop whoever's doing this! It's going to kill me!"
Hermione had cried out in sheer desperation. The burden was getting to be to heavy for her, everyone could sense it.
Harry spoke softly, but sarcastically. "Welcome to my world …"
Hermione threw herself on Harry, sobbing uncontrollably, and through her tears Harry heard her say in a whisper, "And now, we're supposed to be married, am I going to lose you as well? Oh Harry, I can't bear this!"
After Hermione managed to compose herself, Dumbledore seized the opportunity to resume the meeting.
"We are, however, facing a new, difficult situation. England and Romania are now at war and that is very dangerous. Even for us."
Ron became more agitated, having been a first-hand witness of what that could mean.
"Er, exactly, how?"
"Well", Dumbledore continued, "Muggles become unpredictable in times of war. They become harder to read, and are more prone to surprise moves. Furthermore, our Muggle governments know of our existence, and there has been more than one instance over the course of history when Muggles tried to annihilate the Wizarding kind during times of war. It is so much easier to cover up then. And finally, it becomes difficult for us to track down our own enemies, because their tracks are hidden by the spoils of the Muggle war going on …"
Dumbledore paused, and looked at everyone with a hint of worry in his eye.
"In this case, not only will it become very difficult to keep track of our enemies, but I think that's exactly what their plan is. Since Karkarov is in charge of the Romanian army, he will make sure to try and synchronize attacks on wizards with a military operation. I believe that's exactly what happened yesterday in London, Mr. Weasley. You and your sister were, I am personally convinced, the true targets. But by hiding the attack under a military bombing, we can only guess, at best, that this was in fact the plan. And had they been successful in killing you and Ginny, we would have never known it, and blamed it on the military operation …"
Harry got up, and started pacing the room.
"What are we going to do then? This is insane!"
Dumbledore looked at him with brightful eyes, and said, "Well, the first thing we must do is give you proper lodging. Godric's Hollow is no longer safe, nor is any place near Muggles, with the circulation of the arrest warrant on Miss Granger. You two will have to stay at Hogwarts, I'm afraid …"
Hermione spoke, for the first time since her outburst. "What? Where are we going to stay? Not in the dormitories, I hope?"
Dumbledore looked at her benevolently.
"No, of course not! But … I think you two should be somewhat comfortable in Hagrid's cabin, wouldn't you say?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged surprise looks, and turned back to Dumbledore.
"I guess … It will have to do for the time being … But what if Hagrid comes back?", Harry risked, knowing full well what the answer might be.
Dumbledore sighed.
"Well, it shouldn't be a problem for the near future. In fact, I don't think you should be concerned with that too much."
He looked at the window, and let out a sigh.
Harry, who had become an astute observer over the years, detected sadness on the old man's face. His burden, he thought, had to be incredibly heavy to bear.
And yet he did bear it, with poise and grace. Harry only wished he could muster the same strength - he knew he would need it soon.
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