Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein effects of the Basilisk attack on Beauxbatons ripple through Britain and France, Hagrid makes a request, a political thrust is met with a feint, a secret is no more, Rita writes a story, Ginny is protected, the D.A. trains, the goblins plan, Malfoy has an accident, Harry and the Ministry eye each other, and Dumbledore fails to dissuade Harry.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Thanks once again to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, Mathiasgranger, Staples701, and Mike P.

Chapter 77 - The Politics of Basilisks

For weeks the Death Eater massacre at Hogwarts' French sister school cast a pall over everything. Frivolity was the first casualty. Within days, the Mediæval-themed ball Fleur Delacour had announced was called off - although the French bravely, and a bit defiantly, insisted the event was merely "postponed" to some uncertain future date, rather than cancelled outright.

Any large-scale international get-together at Beauxbatons seemed remote, at best, as the massacre's shock waves roiled the political landscape across the Channel. Outwardly, the French Ministry reacted as Dumbledore and the Order hoped - forming a joint national unity government. That proved as unwieldy as it was unsteady.

The private dispatches reaching Arthur Weasley's desk (and promptly leaked to Shak and the Order) recounted more disconcerting developments. The political situation in Paris was even more unstable than it appeared. A significant faction in the French Fifth Estate viewed the Voldemort war as l'affaire de La Perfide Albion. The lesson these dissidents learnt from the Beauxbatons massacre, as with the prior Delacour attack, was forthrightly isolationist - both were consequences of unwise French meddling in internecine English quarrels.

This neutralist faction would leave magical England to its fate. But it had a problem - the country's most visible and popular symbol of the war against Voldemort was a French-speaking English boy who had wowed the cream of Gallic magical society in Reims not very many months ago.

And Harry Potter would be summering in France. This announcement was made in Paris, within a week of the massacre, to much fanfare (although the British Ministry tried to downplay it). The French Ministry trumpeted that Harry would train with France's most elite Aurors. The story led the news on Le Monde Magical.

The French investigation into the massacre was typically loud and typically public. That enquiry almost immediately confirmed the sabotage of Beauxbatons' wards. Within twenty-four hours of the attack, the school's Ancient Runes professor took her own life, leaving a note claiming she was Imperiused. The suicide made that claim impossible to confirm.

The French investigation's search for blame soon targeted the location for the spells controlling Beauxbatons' wards. With twenty-twenty hindsight, the enquiry concluded these were too easy to access. Although the critical spellwork was situate in a supposedly secure interior chamber, that room abutted a public corridor.

Despite this arrangement being incident-free for over three centuries, the enquiry's report criticised the school's headmistress, Madame Maxime, for not "instituting enhanced security measures" once the French declared war against Voldemort. Madame Maxime presented an easy target, lying petrified in Beauxbatons' infirmary, utterly unable to respond.

Whatever the merit of those charges, Madame Maxime's heroic and selfless behaviour during the Death Eater attack could not be gainsaid. Otherwise, her actions would almost certainly have earned her the Ordre Nationale de la Pucelle, if not the class of Chevalier in the Légion du Nostradamus.

Someone, perhaps Voldemort, had exterminated the school's Gallic cockerels. Without roosters, she used fire - Muggle fire, as it was safer than Fiendfyre - to drive the Basilisk hard against the Palais' three-storey walls. She intended to crush, or at least immobilise the beast, by collapsing on it part of the building.

She never learnt that her desperate gambit succeeded. Quite effectively, she fuelled the fire with conjured petrol. At the same time Madame Maxime uttered the Reductor Curse that brought the wall down upon the cornered Basilisk, she glanced around her makeshift shield to check her aim - just enough to catch a reflected glimpse of the beast's deadly eyeballs in a pool of the flammable liquid.

She had not moved a muscle since.

As a result, someone else also felt increasingly desperate.

At the Headmaster's strong urging, Harry devoted a couple of D.A. meetings (better attended than ever) for instruction about dangerous, Class XXXXX magical creatures - not only Basilisks, but Nundus, Manticores, Lethifolds, Acromantulæ, Chimæræ, and even the most fearsome dragon breeds. Harry and Hermione knew plenty about dragons, too much (they claimed) about overgrown spiders, a bit about Lethifolds, and no more about the other beasts than what anyone could read in a book.

Logic dictated a guest lecturer - Hagrid. Dumbledore approved, so, the genial half-giant happily obliged, once a logistical problem was finessed. Hagrid was too large for the narrow passages leading to the Chamber of Secrets, so he held his sessions in the Room of Requirement. With D.A. attendance greatly exceeding his sparsely subscribed N.E.W.T.-Level Care of Magical Creatures course, Hagrid was quite pleased to have a larger audience.

After a session about evading Quintapeds (treacle mixed with oatmeal both distracted and impeded them), Hagrid sidled up to Harry and Hermione, who had remained for an hour of Transfiguration revision before curfew. Hagrid was never one for hiding emotion, and his transparently worried behavior convinced the pair that studying was not the most important thing that needed doing.

The half-giant anxiously twisted a handkerchief nearly the size of a bath towel until it frayed. "Er … 'Arry? Yeh, know I don' ask yeh fer much, usual-like? But ri'bout now, I could use a spotta 'elp…."

Hermione beat Harry out of the traps. "Hagrid, what's happened?" she fretted.

"It's not … not fer me, really," Hagrid chuntered. "It's fer … well, yeh know Olympe an' she's jes lyin' there petrified an' all…. I'm afraid they wanna do 'er the way ol' Dippet an' them did me…."

Harry was puzzled. "Hagrid, what do you mean…?"

Mentally, Hermione lapped him. "You mean her as a scapegoat…? For the Beauxbatons attack?"

She caught Hagrid flat-footed. "Well … yeah."

"That's not right," Harry declared. "How can we help?"

"They're tryin' what they used on 'Ermione," Hagrid explained. "That Mandrake stuff. But yeh know 'ow long that'll take. I asked Sprout, an' she sez it won' be ready fer weeks, mebbe months. Jes like then. But she sez there's summat else … that they couldna do before…."

"Just tell us what you need," Hermione prompted.

"What I's 'opin' yeh could get some Mandrake, outta season-like, but that's kinda rare, yeh see," Hagrid jitterishly requested. "Mandrake's really 'ard ter grow, 'cept when it's s'posed ta…. Tends ter get 'em all weepy an' such, outta sorts an' all.… That's dangerous."

He blew his nose loudly in his handkerchief.

"Hagrid, relax, whatever it costs, I'll pay," Harry tried to keep Hagrid calm and focused. "The goblins will take care of it."

"It t'aint jes money," Hagrid fretted. "I'm sure Dumbledore'd authorise 'Ogwarts fer that. It's getting' it. Outta season Mandrake's not grown in France. The only place in Europe is 'ere … it's yer place, 'Arry - Château Blackwalls…."

"Oh," Harry responded, caught flat footed himself. "Well, then, sure…."

Hagrid smiled broadly, looking relieved. "Thanks, 'Arry. Yeh know the last time, back when…. Anyway, Dumbledore tried gettin' some then, but nothin' ever 'appened…."

"You mean, in second year, I didn't have to be petrified so long?" Hermione demanded. "Missing all those classes … and Harry having to fight the Basilisk alone?" It was hard to tell which of those offences agitated her most.

Hagrid's brow furrowed. "S'pect that's right…."

"But, why?" Harry hissed. "How could Dumbledore not…."

"'Member 'Arry, who was in charge…."

"Lucius effing Malfoy," Harry growled through clenched teeth, ignoring Hermione's automatic reproof for bad language. "He ran the Château then, and whilst he couldn't outright say no, I'm sure he managed to delay things…."

Hagrid went on. "I 'eard Sprout gripin' like…"

The Herbology professor's complaints had to wait. The door opened and the Head Boy, Eddie Carmichael, stepped in. Not chuffed to act as message runner, he approached Harry with the news, "Dumbledore wants to see you in his office as soon as possible…."

* * * *

The genesis of Harry's summons was another repercussion of the Beauxbatons massacre.

Aftereffects from the French slaughter reverberated north of the Channel. British Basilisk sightings skyrocketed, badly overburdening the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Virtually all such sightings were, and remained, unconfirmed. Ultimately, the Department stopped responding - unless the complainant was particularly well connected.

Ministry ineffectiveness at assuaging mounting public anxiety encouraged the usual cast of charlatans. Phony talismans abounded, as did dangerously ineffective Basilisk shields. The Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects raided one operation selling Omnioculars treated with only an Anti-Glare Charm as supposedly safe for viewing Basilisks.

Several ex-Aurors and former Hit Wizards entered the suddenly lucrative business of private Basilisk protection - with varying degrees of competence. On those exceedingly rare occasions when anyone actually encountered a Basilisk, casualties were not uncommon.

As Hagrid's lectures stressed, Basilisks ordinarily were quite reclusive. Increasing the number of wizards searching for Basilisks had the entirely predictable effect of increasing the number of real - and imagined - Basilisk encounters. Press coverage of such incidents, reflecting intense public interest, was expectably overblown.

With money to be made, goblins were more than happy to sell their services as Basilisk hunters. Their reputations soared following some almost off-hand comments attributed (truthfully, for once) to Harry and Hermione in Rita Skeeter's article about some of the things that preceded the Battle of Stonehenge.

Of course, politicians had to get into the act.

The Wizengamot passed a flurry of laws outlawing almost anything involving the raising or breeding Basilisks - and most other 5X creatures besides dragons - the new crimes being punishable by the Dementor's Kiss.

The Thicknesse faction capitalised on the hysteria with a move calculated to place their highest profile adversary - Albus Dumbledore - in an extremely bad light.

That gambit played out differently from what they anticipated.

Before the Beauxbatons massacre, nobody had probed particularly closely into an incident at Hogwarts several years previous. Only the Board of Governors had been informed, and even they had not received many details. That incident had involved the petrifaction of several students and Hogwarts staff.

Petrifaction was not a common magical occurrence.

Madame Maxime's unfortunate case demonstrated that one cause of petrifaction was a reflected view of a Basilisk's deadly eyes.

The Hogwarts Board were sworn to maintain confidentiality of information received in their official capacity. Rumours swirled that a Basilisk had been involved.

In a suitably sombre speech before the Wizengamot, Thicknesse demanded "the truth" and promised to ascertain "whether there is, or was, a Basilisk situation" at Hogwarts that "threatened our children with the same horror" since visited upon the French.

The spectre of a Basilisk at Hogwarts - with the Beauxbatons débacle haunting everyone and everything - forced Minister Scrimgeour's hand.

Hence, Harry's urgent summons from Dumbledore.

"Godiva praline," Harry recited the latest password. He took the rotating stairs two at a time.

Halfway to the Headmaster's office a piercing, harsh screech brought Harry to a standstill. It sounded like a banshee having her hair pulled out by the roots.

`What in Merlin's name was that?' Harry asked himself whilst more cautiously finishing his ascent of the revolving staircase.

From the landing outside the office door, he heard it again - some sort of bird - grating, raucous, and above all, loud. If Harry had not been privy to Fawkes' actual fate, he might have thought someone was trying to strangle Dumbledore's phoenix.

He stood uncertainly on the landing, wondering if he should enter, when the Headmaster's office door opened and out stepped … that young Polynesian lady who had invited him to some Hawaiian meeting over the summer holidays.

She was holding - a chicken? This was no ordinary fowl like those that formerly inhabited the Burrow's gardens. This bird was bright orange on top, black underneath, with long black tailfeathers and a blazing red crop. It, he, looked rather unhappy, probably due to being magically restrained.

"Oh, aloha, Harry … Mister Potter," she flashed her warm smile. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"Oh, you haven't," Harry responded mechanically, if truthfully. "I just got here … sorry, but I've completely forgotten…."

"That's quite all right, it's Hi'iaka Kupaianaha," she reintroduced herself. "I was just leaving. Don't let me keep you…."

The bird interrupted with another vociferous cock-a-doodle-doo - almost enough to set Harry's ears ringing. Too late, he clapped his hands over them.

"What the heck is that?" he asked curtly.

"Moa," was her one-word reply - just short of no reply at all.

"More what?" Harry reasked.

"No, mo-ah," she clarified, drawing out the word. "They are junglefowl native to my homeland. When I heard … about what happened. I thought they might help. So does your headmaster - if they can survive the winter."

"But why?" Harry wondered aloud. "They're certainly colourful, but any noisier and nobody could sleep."

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, looking bemused. "Ah, Mister Potter. That is precisely the point. With the clamour to combat the Basilisk threat, one should not discount the most basic precautions…."

Recognition flashed in Harry's eyes. "A rooster - its crow is fatal to those things - and hearing that one, I can see why."

"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle. "And Miss Kupaianaha has thoughtfully offered to supply this feral species, which are quite low maintenance, provided they acclimate."

"I'll let you know the results, Headmaster," she promised, taking her leave. "And, Harry, I hope also to see you this summer."

"In any event…. Enter," the Headmaster beckoned. "Your punctuality is appreciated, if not always reciprocated."

Harry's experience was that urgent summonses from Dumbledore did not usually herald good tidings. "What's going on? Has there been another attack?" he asked without pretence as he entered the Headmaster's office. He took the seat that Dumbledore conjured.

"In a manner of speaking," the Headmaster responded. He sat heavily behind his desk. Seeing Harry flinch, he added, "I am not referring to Death Eater activity, and nobody is in mortal danger."

"So what happened?"

"A very foolish man unfortunately did a most foolish thing," Dumbledore began, "and we shall have to live with the consequences. A mutual enemy believes he has discovered how to do us … or at least me, severe reputational injury. His scheme is doomed to fail, but that failure will not be without cost."

Harry was puzzled - and suspicious. "Why call me, if it's directed against you?"

"Because," the Headmaster sighed, "whilst the plot seeks to weaken me, you will primarily bear the residuum of its failure."

Harry's head sank into his hands. "Oh, bollocks. You'd best explain what's going on."

"Precisely why you are here," Dumbledore affirmed. "I assume that you know of Pius Thicknesse?"

Harry blanched. What little he knew about the DMLE head, he had learnt during Shak's recent lecture - not one of his more pleasant experiences. Mercifully, the Headmaster did not reiterate Shak's criticisms. "Head of Law Enforcement," Harry answered tersely. "No friend of ours, I gather."

"Certainly no friend," Dumbledore echoed. "Especially of mine. Our differences are longstanding. He particularly resents what he views as the Order's `infiltration' of the Auror Corps. He sees us - quite rightly, I might add - undermining his authority. He was also one of the last holdouts against the goblin alliance."

Engaged, if not pleased, Harry encouraged the Headmaster to get to the point. "So what's he planning to do?"

"Pius seeks to turn the current Basilisk hysteria to his advantage and to undercut me," Dumbledore explained. "He knows, of course, of the petrifactions in your second year; and believes, correctly, that a Basilisk was involved. He is ignorant of how that situation was, in fact, resolved. He believes that I swept everything under the rug, and suspects that the creature remains alive somewhere within Hogwarts' environs. He proposes a public…."

"Damn that Lucius Malfoy," Harry growled, anticipating where the Headmaster was going. "How could you have allowed him on the Governing Board in the first place?"

Dumbledore smiled indulgently despite the display of impertinence. "This episode cannot, I am afraid, be laid at Mister Malfoy's doorstep," he responded. "The Board are magically obligated to maintain the secrecy of anything learnt in their official capacity. Otherwise, the matter surely would not have remained as obscure as it has. I am afraid Pius' source is rather more prosaic…."

Harry would not let the Headmaster off the hook so easily. "Well, then. Who?"

"My contacts tell me that Pius prevailed upon a young Auror, Wynda MacFusty, who was Head Girl that year. Threatened with losing her job, she confirmed that a Basilisk had been loosed within the Castle." Seeing Harry's face clouding, Dumbledore hastened to add, "She reported this to me as soon as she could, so we know what Pius does not…."

"And that is?" Harry pursued.

"As I alluded, Pius is unaware that the Basilisk was killed," Dumbledore revealed. "Obviously, he does not know how that was accomplished. Pius mistakenly suspects that I simply confined it somewhere in the bowels of the Castle…. He intends to exploit the Beauxbatons disaster to demand my resignation for risking a similar catastrophe at Hogwarts."

Harry exhaled forlornly whilst shaking his head. Except once, when Terry Boot had put him on the spot last year in the Hogs Head, Harry had kept all that mum. The Headmaster's drift was clear. "It's all going to come out, isn't it?" he inquired apprehensively.

"I have been summoned to testify before the Wizengamot in public session, which will occur within the month. Whilst Pius will merely make himself appear ridiculous, given the beast's destruction, you can imagine what disclosure of your single-handed dispatch of a twenty-metre Basilisk will do for your reputation."

"Like I need another title like `Basilisk Slayer'," Harry groaned. "will I be called, too?"

"Not unless you so desire, because…."

"Hell, no!" Harry almost exploded.

"Very well," Dumbledore acceded. "After the latest Order of Merlin ceremony, I cannot imagine Pius wishing to provide you a platform for augmenting your stature still further. I could arrange something through our faction, since you could not be…."

"NO!" Harry raised his voice. "The last thing I want is more bloody fame! Even in Hogwarts, people whisper behind my back, and witches try Love Potions to chat me up. Merlin knows what would happen after that."

The Headmaster readily agreed. "True enough. But such are unintended consequences. Your testimony, I can prevent. Disclosure of what actually happened, I cannot. I tell you this frankly so you can prepare yourself."

Harry felt as if the walls were closing in. He badly wanted to flee.

That arse Thicknesse! His little ploy would surely backfire, but Harry had quite enough of being "The Boy Who Lived," let alone "The Chosen One." With Basilisk paranoia sweeping the country, the revelation that he had killed one - a really big one - at age twelve with naught but a sword … would somebody try to deify him next?

He had to find Hermione. She would know what to do.

He bolted for the door. If he stayed, he would obsess. If he obsessed, Harry feared, for the first time in months, he would need Occlumency to avoid an uncontrolled magical discharge.

"Mister Potter - before you go, I need to discuss something else briefly," Dumbledore called to him.

Harry almost hyperventilated. Where he was, and with whom, had slipped his mind.

He paused and regarded the Headmaster warily.

"In light of what has happened, I would like to inform the Wizengamot that future events, such as Quidditch matches, will be guarded by goblins," Dumbledore requested. "I know this was not my prior position, but the requirements of the times warrant a change."

"Umm … okay." Harry muttered. "Do you want me to ask them for you?"

"That will be quite alright," the Headmaster replied. "I am on reasonably good terms with them. I only wished to ascertain that you had no objection."

* * * *

Harry found himself facing a task only marginally less distasteful than the adulation that would surely have followed an indiscriminate disclosure of the events of his first visit to the Chamber of Secrets.

He was to be interviewed by Rita Skeeter, in Shak's outer office, loaned for the occasion by Harry's professor/guardian. Beside him strode Hermione, equally grim-faced at the prospect of several hours closeted with the notorious scandalmonger.

How this came about was a long story.

Hermione's immediate reaction upon hearing the Headmaster's news was that no way in hell would they permit an enemy like Pius Thicknesse to maintain the initiative on something like this.

Instead, they would steal his thunder. At best, they might block him from going forward altogether. Even at worst, they could beat their adversary to the punch. Hermione considered but discarded a confidential approach. Trust was lacking. No matter what they tried, Thicknesse would probably demand more proof than Harry was willing to reveal.

Control was something else a preemptive strike through Skeeter promised. Harry could decide, on his terms, what to reveal and what he preferred to remain secret.

Skeeter was anything but trustworthy. However, with Hermione's Unbreakable Vow providing the stick, and another huge scoop providing the carrot, her bona fides were much less important.

Still, their first conversation went poorly. They had barely outlined Harry's Basilisk encounter when Rita unleashed her customary sarcasm. Perhaps unwisely, Hermione had not included Rita's behaviour in their presence within the scope of the Vow.

"My, my, my," she snickered. "How romantic … risking your all for the little girl in mortal peril. No wonder she's crushed on you for years…."

"How did you know that?" Harry reacted sharply.

"Oh, I know plenty that I never bothered to write up," Rita cackled. "Malfoy, Parkinson, Nott, Zabini…. They're more observant than you might think. Although you two started circling during the Triwizard, Mister Potter was still besotted by that Chinese wench…."

"Don't call her that," Hermione warned. "Her name is Cho."

"Cho Chang, then," Rita disdainfully repeated. "She was footnote material at the time. But sources in my old house identified maybe a half-dozen of the Castle's witches as quite upset over losing the Potter sweepstakes. I buzzed around, and checked them out…. The Littlest Weasley was so distressed she didn't know what to do…."

Harry's interest was oddly piqued. "What did she do?"

"Oh, nothing except sulk," Rita airily waved her hand. "Totally, utterly typical - and totally, utterly boring. Nothing worth writing about there…."

Having dismissed Ginny Weasley, Rita asked a question that punctured the pair's misconceptions that their brilliant little plan might be painless.

"So what do you have in the way of proof?" she leered.

"Proof? You didn't need proof to write your other stories," Hermione reacted, affronted.

Rita looked down her nose at the precocious child. "Yes, but those stories were written just to write them," she explained as if addressing a dullard. "The public was interested, and that was that. This one has an ulterior motive. Thicknesse is neither a fool, nor a pushover. If he thinks you can't back up this story with proof, he'll demand it."

"To hell with him, then," Harry resisted.

Hermione put a calming hand on Harry's arm. "You want to deter him if you can," she reminded.

Rita sneered beneath her bright pink Far Side glasses. "He'll have an easy time of it - casting you as an attention seeker trying to take advantage of a tragedy. You're an easy target, Harry. I've done it myself quite successfully…." She smirked whilst delivering those bon mots.

"Well…," Harry backtracked. "I still have some the skin. You mentioned our armour in the Stonehenge story. It came from the Basilisk I killed."

"Not enough," Rita dismissed. "We can't prove it came from your beast. I … hell, you … need evidence of the actual event."

Harry pondered some more. "Evidence then - I suppose there's Veritaseru…."

"No, Harry!" Hermione forcefully intervened. "Not unless we receive questions in advance … and I do the asking. She's getting a huge story, here."

Rita's blond curls bobbed as she suppressed a laugh. "I'd be willing, no problem there. But you shouldn't pick a fight with someone who brews Veritaserum by the barrel. Don't be naïve. Whatever proof you show me, Thicknesse will demand at least as much … and he might muster enough votes in the Wizengamot to force you to produce it. Plenty of wizards see you two as a threat and wouldn't mind taking you down a peg…."

"No Veritaserum, then," Harry decided. "No way I'm letting anybody use that when they could ask anything …."

The need for evidence was disconcerting. Harry had plenty he did not want public.

"How about a Pensieve, then," Hermione dropped her prearranged hint. "That's how you testified against Umbridge. Pensieve evidence can't be forged or altered - remember how dismally Professor Slughorn's falsification attempt failed. But memories can be selected, and in carefully choosing exactly what memories to use, we can control what people see."

"And you're a skilled memory extractor in addition to everything else?" Rita questioned Hermione archly. Massaging Pensieve memories might be beyond her skill, but Rita readily grasped the idea.

"No," she admitted. "But I'll learn if I have to. It's been done to me, so I know the routine."

First they required a Pensieve. That was solved easily enough. One fire call to Jerry McAllister and a delivery owl was winging its way to the Castle with one formerly belonging to Sirius Black.

Still remaining - as Skeeter had pointed out - was finding someone who could extract the necessary memories with the necessary precision.

Despite her brave words, Hermione had great qualms doing anything that might affect Harry's psyche. Instead, they sought out someone they felt they could trust - not Dumbledore, who was anything but disinterested - but Harry's new guardian, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Shak was both willing and able. Precise retrieval of memories for a Pensieve was close to targeting them for erasure through Obliviation. Shak could not alter memories, but after years in the Order, he could crop them with great exactitude.

Most wizards thought Pensieve memories were inviolate, completely tamper-proof, but that was inaccurate. While memories could not be fabricated - as Slughorn learnt to his sorrow - they could be divided into pieces, and reordered and excised. Dumbledore had done so for Snape, and he had deputised Kingsley Shacklebolt to master the art, should other Order members require similar assistance.

Problem one was Harry's loss of Parseltongue ability. That skill had been public knowledge since Harry's second year, but he kept its recent absence quiet, given its probable relationship to one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Having used it to enter the Chamber posed no problem, but the earlier memory from Myrtle's bathroom was a tougher nut.

Ron and Gilderoy Lockhart were in that memory.

Lockhart did not matter, since his memory was gone. Any explanation consistent with his condition would suffice.

Ron was another matter.

So Harry asked him.

"That's what I said, Ron," Harry repeated. "That Ministry arse intends to use the Chamber episode for his own ends. I can't stop that from happening. Do you want into the story or out?"

In that choice stirred powerful, contradictory emotions. Abstractly, Ron craved public attention, but his true role was embarrassing - his broken wand, no Galleons to replace it, and letting Lockhart steal even that. He could become a public figure all right - a laughingstock.

"No, mate, I'd rather give it a miss," Ron demurred. "What did I do? Get caught off guard and then stuck behind that cave in. Keep me out of it if you can. Say I waited up top, or something."

Harry did just that. Shak parsed the memory of Harry's opening the pipe so the first sequence ended when he declared he was going in. A second sequence began with Harry shoving Lockhart into the pipe and jumping in himself. Harry never saw Ron follow him in.

Lockhart received kid glove treatment. Shak spliced events so it appeared that a shed Basilisk skin had spooked the pathetic professor into an over-enthusiastic effort at self defense. Harry had not seen the resultant roof collapse, and something falling on Lockhart's head could have caused that idiot's injuries.

Harry's remaining problem was much more difficult.

What to do about Ginny Weasley? She could not be ignored. Throughout the long, climactic memory Shak extracted - beginning with the Tom Riddle wraith revealing he was Voldemort and ending with the Basilisk's death - Ginny lay inert and in plain sight. That the great snake had not crushed her was a miracle.

Harry's problem with that memory was a microcosm of his life.

Ginny Weasley was increasingly difficult for him to ignore. Her image crept unbidden into his thoughts at night, even into his dreams. It was nothing like the occasional, but intense, urges he had felt earlier. These were more diffuse but nonetheless disconcerting for their serenity - and their frequency.

Harry's response was avoidance. Maybe having as little to do with Ginny Weasley as possible would make everything go away. Since they shared no classes, this worked most of the time - except for Quidditch. They were teammates on both the Gryffindor and the Hogwarts all-star teams. With the weather slowly improving that meant more shared Quidditch practices.

Whilst practising, Harry could isolate himself in his own little world - him and the Snitch - and let Ron run the scrimmages. Even then Harry could see Ginny, her brilliant red hair streaming behind as she executed some daredevil manœuvre; flying how he loved to fly.

Why did she wear a headband with his number seven on it?

Such thoughts were distracting, and Harry found himself progressively more distracted.

He also found himself speculating what she looked like in the team shower … not using the Obscurus Charm whereby both sexes shared the only facility equipped with magical plumbing…. Was her hair as red…?

Such thoughts, during practice, caused close calls with Bludgers and late starts for the Snitch. Occasionally Jazzy would flash him a distinctly admonitory look, as if saying, `Get your head back in the game'.

Avoiding Ginny was also impossible in respect of his (their) second-year Basilisk encounter. Harry was convinced, and Hermione agreed, that no good could come of publicly revealing that the Basilisk incident originated with Ginny's possession by Voldemort - a fact presently known to no more than a dozen wizards.

Others, like the Hogwarts governors, had never received any details. To them, she was solely a victim. Dumbledore had strategically Obliviated certain persons, including Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid - with consent, of course - to spare the girl any public stigma. Lucius Malfoy…? Maybe Dumbledore had taken care of him, or perhaps Voldemort, but he was in no position to comment.

In the paranoia now gripping the Wizard World, full disclosure would pillory Ginny in the press now even more than originally, when the Headmaster first decided to keep things under wraps.

How the hotheaded young Weasley would react to the renewed threat of becoming a pariah throughout magical Britain was anybody's guess. Harry, painfully aware of Ginny's temper, quite expected an unpleasant encounter.

Hermione cautioned Harry not to forget politics. The benefits of secrecy only redoubled, with Arthur Weasley now much more prominent. Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, he was the Order's highest-ranking Ministry member.

Thicknesse, obsessed with Order "infiltration" of the Ministry, would surely use Arthur's daughter's role in the Basilisk incident to attack Mr. Weasley and attempt to bludgeon him into resigning.

Beyond that, Arthur's department was the chief liaison with the French. A very public scandal concerning his daughter's possession by the same Dark Wizard both countries were allied against would be a disaster - even without the Basilisk-related aspects, which risked the same catastrophe so recently befallen the French.

Thus the memories Shak plucked from Harry's mind were finely pruned to avoid any suggestion of possession. The Voldemort phantasm now came across as more of an independent actor, abetted by some accomplice in the Castle. Although Harry would decline to speculate about that (nonexistent) wizard's identity, he had no objection to Skeeter aiming her inimitable talent for innuendo in Snape's direction.

The ruined diary was not kept secret. Harry assumed that Lucius Malfoy ultimately returned it to Voldemort in about the same condition Harry used it to free Dobby.

Before finalising anything, Harry had to explain everything to Ginny face to face. She enthusiastically accepted his invitation to discuss "something important" in the Room of Requirement before one of their D.A. sessions. Ginny's mood deflated upon arrival - at the precise moment Hermione greeted them as they entered the Room.

Hermione was stirring the Pensieve when Ginny entered, and thereby missed the interaction. That suited Harry perfectly, as he hoped not to cause Hermione unnecessary grief over stupid hormonal urges that would never amount to anything - precisely why he was otherwise doing his level best to avoid Ginny.

Except Quidditch, and on the pitch, Harry was confident he was effectively chaperoned by his co-captain - who was also Ginny's very protective older brother.

To say Ginny was surprised by what Harry and Hermione were planning was an understatement. In the aftermath of Voldemort's possession, she had been so extremely weak. To spare her further trauma, she never received a detailed description of what happened in the Chamber of Secrets after she lost consciousness.

Ginny had known that, somehow, Harry had killed a Basilisk and dispatched Riddle's spectre. She was gobsmacked to see him slay that monster with only broadsword - and then nearly die - in the Pensieved memory Shak had harvested.

"Gods, Harry!" she shrieked when they resurfaced. "You killed it by yourself! Even I can hardly believe how heroic you were! And it bit you! How did you - how did we - survive?"

Harry wearily regarded the excited redhead. "First, I wasn't alone. I was a goner without Fawkes. He brought the sword and blinded the Basilisk. Otherwise, I was a snack."

"But you were dying!" Ginny went on. "How could anyone survive a Basilisk bite?"

Hermione tried to calm things. "Did you look closely at the end? Fawkes was crying - right on Harry's wound. Phoenix tears are probably the strongest healing agent in the world. That cured him."

"But … Tom," Ginny kept babbling. "What happened to him?" The girl shuddered. After four years, she still recalled the sensation of being possessed.

"Ginny, please calm down," Hermione said soothingly.

"Someday, I'll tell you everything," Harry promised, "but we deliberately ended the memory exactly then. You don't want to know why now, lest one of Thicknesse's crowd tries to force it out of you. Let's just say that Tom … vanished after the Basilisk was killed."

"Ginny, we want to keep you out of the cross-hairs," Hermione jumped in. "We wouldn't do this if we had any choice. You do read the Prophet, don't you?"

Ginny's adrenaline rush abruptly ended, as she had the distinct impression that Hermione was talking down to her. "Yes, of course…. Sure I do."

"Then, I'm sure you saw Pius Thicknesse recent demand that Dumbledore explain the petrifactions," Hermione lectured. "We're going public to preempt him. We want to keep the whole business with the diary and your encounters with Tom Riddle secret. None of that was in Harry's memory - intentionally."

Ginny blushed to her ears. She was grateful and resentful at the same time. Hermione was spot on that airing that bit of Weasley dirty laundry in public would be disastrous, and not just for her. But Harry and Hermione had concocted this scheme without so much as a by your leave and were presenting her with a take-it-or-leave-it proposition.

Of course, she bought in. Harry wanted her to.

The more Ginny considered the sanitised story of Harry bravely racing to her rescue (they told her Ron had asked out) - both the Basilisk and the Dark Lord be damned - the more the idea grew on her. Harry must have had feelings for her even then, in her first year. Perhaps her execrable singing valentine had served its purpose - unbeknownst to her.

Then Harry got involved with others, first Cho Chang, the Two and Only, and then the Great Hermione, God Almighty.

If he used to feel that way about her, Ginny knew of no reason he could not be induced to feel that way again. All she needed was a chance - like her mum had - to show Harry what was right in front of him.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing … both of you," Ginny spoke rather too brightly once the entire plan was explained. She gave Hermione a rather stiff hug.

"And Harry, thanks for showing me exactly what happened - you were incredibly brave … and sweet, too."

In Hermione's full view, Ginny leaned in and gave Harry a very chaste, but slightly lingering, kiss on the cheek. Then she turned and left the Room of Requirement.

"Umm … that went well - I think," Harry commented, unsure how to construe what had just happened. He was restrained, yet relieved. No monster arose within his chest, despite the circumstances.

"Yes, I think so, too," Hermione guardedly agreed. "Not too much so, hopefully. I suppose we should be getting back."

"Umm … Luv, do you think we could stay a while - just the two of us?" Harry tried for a seductive tone of voice. He really, really needed Hermione physically at that moment, to cast out his improper thoughts.

Or better still, to channel them productively.

She processed his request against everything else going on in their lives. "Yeah, I'd like that…," Hermione smiled, "I'd like that a lot. It's been too long…."

They embraced, became one, and for the next hour gave no further thought to the outside world.

* * * *

However much Harry might have liked to ignore the world, wizardkind beyond the Castle's walls was not yet (if ever) done with him. Harry's next interruption was as Harry and Hermione were finishing what, until then, had been a rather productive D.A. meeting.

The session started with Hagrid lecturing on Nundus. Beyond the obvious, "Avoid 'em, that's what," Hagrid had practical advice for anyone unlucky enough to encounter that extremely dangerous beast.

"Yeh can't do anythin' 'cept try'n hold 'em off," the Creatures instructor warned. "'Cause o' their breath bein' poisonous 'n all, I recommend this spell. It creates a whole bunch o' soapsuds…."

Hagrid still did not use an ordinary wand. He preferred his familiar brolly. It symbolised both his unjust persecution as a half-giant, and his refusal to stop doing magic.

But his brolly was not an intact wand, and sometimes the bits inside it reacted unpredictably.

Like right now.

"Saponoro maximus!"

Hagrid's spell worked - after a fashion. Instead of the intended cloud of suds spewing from the tip of his brolly, the ribs popped open and he was nearly buried by a torrent blasting backwards from the entire inside canopy. Had Hagrid not been so large, the blizzard of soapsuds probably would have knocked him over.

With a few choice epithets, Hagrid forced the brolly shut, ending his self-inundation. Covered from head to foot in brilliant white, he resembled an overly large snow man.

Growling from beneath the bubbles, he told the assembled D.A., "Well, yeh get the idea, anyways."

The second half of the D.A. meeting, moved to the Chamber, was practical. Harry and Hermione drilled everyone in Auror spells that propelled small objects at high speeds. With the Aurors, they had practised with nails and similar sharp objects. To teach these skills without any attendant carnage, Hermione persuaded Professor McGonagall to Transfigure several boxes of marbles into harmless globes containing chalk dust in the colours of the four Hogwarts Houses.

Daphne Greengrass' contribution was the Face Fogging Charm - a useful spell to conceal where one looked, so that opponents could not anticipate the user's next move.

Then Harry and Hermione taught everyone the spell of the evening, the Kineticus Charm.

Mayhem ensued. Matters became rather over-competitive in the Chamber of Secrets. The session ended with everyone and everything covered in multi-coloured chalk dust, including the two instructors.

House colours, thought by Harry and Hermione as merely a nice touch, touched off inter-House warfare. D.A. members rapidly tired of casting chalk marbles at set targets. Soon they began aiming them at each other. A Hufflepuff squarely struck Mandy Bocklehurst. Inaccurately identifying Ernie McMillan as the culprit, she stalked him and from a concealed location, chalked him right over the heart.

McMillan retaliated, but instead hit Seamus Finnegan.

Then it was off to the races, with House-specific bands hunting one another. Participants began Disillusioning themselves, or if not knowing how, conjuring various obstacles throughout the Chamber.

Harry and Hermione might have put a stop to it, but Professor Flitwick, their advisor for the evening, thought that some controlled chaos made good practice for real life battle situations. He urged them not to intervene.

Flitwick prevailed - until, almost simultaneously, somebody popped the both of them.

Whap! "Ouch!" Reddish chalk powder covered Hermione's left hip.

Pop! "Yow!" Greenish chalk powder blossomed on Harry's right arm.

Both of them decided - this means war.

They soon discovered what others had already figured out. Chalk dust in the eyes was very unpleasant. Protego Charms, although effective, impeded return fire, since chalk dust, a non-magical substance, could not penetrate the charm, inbound or outbound. Harry tried enlarging his glasses, but the dragon ambergris lenses proved impervious to all magic he knew. Finally, he forgot about special eye protection and chanced it.

Hermione had similar problems. She first tried Tranfiguring a water glass (elves now provided some minimal refreshments) into a snorkeling mask like she used on the Riviera as a kid, but had little peripheral vision. After Padma Patil caught her squarely in the side of the neck, Hermione switched to a Bubblehead Charm. Designed for underwater use, in regular air the Bubblehead's exaggerated refraction produced equally lousy peripheral vision. Roger Davies snuck too close, and winged her left breast. Frustrated, Hermione added an Aquavisio Charm. Those two charms adequately cancelled each other, and Hermione successfully had her revenge - and more.

Harry and Hermione soon found each other. Then they partnered with Neville, and later added Ron and Luna to form a small platoon….

When the klaxon sounded to end the meeting, both the Chamber and the participants were a mess - liberally coated in multicolour chalk dust. Hermione recommended that they all turn Hagrid's soapsuds spell on themselves, so Filch would not go apoplectic at chalk dust tracked all over the Castle.

Most of the D.A. departed. House-elves popped in to tidy up the Chamber. Hermione insisted on helping them. Harry and a few others stayed to discuss the session.

"Whilst Hagrid certainly has a valid point that soapsuds can block poisonous Nundu breath, I think we can do better," Flitwick opined.

"Certainly could use a better delivery mechanism," Harry quipped.

"I'd be happy to research that topic," Daphne Greengrass offered. "It fits in well with my Charms project, which involves camouflage."

"Excellent," Flitwick squeaked.

"In that case, be sure to investigate polyurethane," Dennis Creevey recommended.

"And surfactants," Colin added.

"Poly-who? Surfa-what?" Daphne asked incredulously. "What could you two know about this?" she dismissively addressed the two pre-O.W.L. Muggleborns. Despite her best efforts, sometimes her Slytherin prejudices showed through.

"If you want better, stronger foam, Muggles use polyurethane all the time," Dennis maintained. "It starts foamy, but solidifies. It doesn't vanish like Hagrid's soapsuds."

"Surfactants are foaming agents," Colin added. "Muggles aren't stupid. They don't have magic, so they've had to learn these things."

"Well, maybe," Daphne retreated. "I'll see." She sashayed off, pursuing Professor Flitwick, as Hermione came back, looking for Harry. Uncharacteristically, Colin and Dennis stayed put.

"Hi, you two, what do you want?" Hermione hailed them brightly.

They looked nervous.

"Umm … we needed to talk to Harry … about business," Dennis told her. "Sorry."

"Never good news, it seems," Harry quipped. "So how many more Galleons do you need?"

"It's not money, Harry," Colin denied. "Not really."

"For that we'd just talk to Mister Howe, and not bother you," Dennis added.

"We've decided to close the Hong Kong plant," Colin revealed. "You really riled up the Triads. Our security consultant said they'll try to sabotage us for sure."

Harry winced guiltily. He always seemed to turn his friends into targets. "Sorry about that. What do you want to do?"

"Umm … bring it back onshore," Dennis began explaining. "We need to keep a closer eye on things, and as for cost … well, the demand curve isn't as price sensitive as we'd thought."

"That means we don't need Chinese labour for cost reasons," Colin clarified. His brother tended to lapse into jargon when discussing business matters.

"Fortunately, things are booming throughout Hong Kong," Dennis continued. "So we're not selling the plant at a loss - that's why it's not a money issue."

"What do you need, then?" Hermione tried moving them along. With all the chalk dust, she fancied a shower, and less than an hour remained before curfew. Too much chat and she would shower alone.

"You're standing in it, actually," Colin obscurely replied.

"What? Chalk dust?"

"No, after what's happened, we most need a safe place to make these things," Dennis shed some light. "Nothing's safer than Hogwarts, and the Chamber - well, it's not regularly used for anything as far as we can tell. It's big enough. I was hoping we could … er … set up shop here."

Harry looked gobsmacked. Hermione intervened. "You're asking the wrong people, Dennis. This space belongs to Hogwarts, not Harry. You'd best contact the Headmaster."

"We're going to, Harry, believe me," Colin broke in. "But you're tight with him…."

Harry winced. "Tight," was not how he would describe his relationship with the Headmaster - Dumbledore would doubtlessly agree.

"…We hardly know him. We wanted you on our side before…."

"Won't work," Hermione declared flatly in her I'm-absolutely-certain voice.

Dennis yelped, "What do you mean?"

"You couldn't get … workwizards, I guess … in and out of here," Hermione spoke. Her hands on her hips, Hermione spoke in that know-it-all "lecture" tone Harry knew only too well.

"There's only one way in," she pointed at the stairs. "Well, technically two, but the other's even less practical. How many wizards would you employ?"

"Umm … I guess … about the same as … about thirty," Dennis stuttered, quailing under her intense scrutiny.

"I can't see any way Dumbledore would allow thirty wizards, not subject to his authority, come traipsing through the Hogwarts wards every day - especially during the Term," Hermione declared. "You said it yourself, employees can be, and have been, infiltrated by our enemies. That was bad enough in China; it would be catastrophic here. Even if Dumbledore were so inclined, we have the Board of Governors."

Harry followed her explication with sinking feelings. She was right, of course, but at some point she simply made the rubble bounce.

"Enough!" he intervened.

Hermione immediately fell silent, viewing Harry more with surprise than anger.

"Hermione's right. Not here. But talk to Blackie Howe. I've got more properties than I can keep straight. Work with him and choose something. You have a security consultant, and I have a major domo. Between them, something will work out. If necessary, I'll lease you a place at the Château. It's well warded."

The Creeveys went from feeling, and looking, stupid to a state of elation in a matter of seconds.

"All right, Harry!" Colin said. The two boys scampered off.

Finally alone, Hermione turned to Harry. "Too much?"

"A little," he conceded.

"Sorry," she allowed, not wanting to look him in the eye.

"It happens," he murmured, reaching for her hand. "I can shower in ten minutes, if you can," he added.

"Race you."

* * * *

Bladvak enjoyed working for Harry Potter. Impratraxis Potter was due unflinching, absolute loyalty as a prince of the royal blood. Beyond that, Harry Potter actively involved him in his affairs. Even when Bladvak viewed his efforts as failures, Harry Potter did not share that opinion.

Thus, he valued Harry Potter's opinion - and Savini was reputed have surpassing intellect - so he, Bladvak, was more than willing to extend himself on behalf of the Impratraxis and Savini even in tasks that might be dangerous.

Bladvak was not the only goblin sharing this view. He would not (probably) have presumed to act absent tacit approval of his ultimate superior at Gringotts, Director Klamdok. Bladvak understood implicitly that, for now, he was on his own. Plausible deniability was one price of the goblin equivalent of a wink and a nod.

Should his preparations be noticed before coming to fruition - at a time Gringotts might be adversely impacted - Bladvak's head would be on the proverbial chopping block.

In the ways of his race, in dire enough circumstances, that could be more than a metaphor. Bladvak knew and accepted that.

The Ashrak traitors proved that. Exposed when they suddenly vanished from the Stonehenge battlefield, bits of them were still nailed to the walls of the Ashrak cavern. At the beginning, they had not been dead.

Fortunately, their demise escaped the notice of Impratraxis Potter and his consort, who did not share goblin sensibilities. Why, Savini had even questioned something as tame and well-accepted as hoisting enemy heads on canton banners. Impratraxis and Savini, after all, were not truly goblins, so allowances needed to be made.

But enough of that.

Bladvak could keep a secret - even from them - if the greater needs of Gringotts and the Gablankansta required it.

This did.

To restore foreclosure rights that were the Nation's proper due under the original treaty, the initial precedent had to be stealthy - a very small point of a very sharp spear. The test property must not only have significant and longstanding arrearages, but must also lack an owner who might raise a squawk. In addition, it must be small enough not to attract attention.

To ensure the strictest confidence, Bladvak performed all necessary research himself - from initial review of Gringotts' books and records to the final on-site visit. As a seasoned debt collector, Bladvak possessed both investigational resources and the skills to employ them correctly.

A proper walk through was essential. Book research, however thorough, could not substitute for claws on the ground - evaluating every prospect personally. The first property looked ideal on parchment, but his visit told him otherwise. Whilst suitably overgrown and abandoned, that parcel was adjacent to a great estate, owned by the Parkinson family, Bladvak later learned, and they used this neighboring piece for some rather nefarious activities.

The next property, deeded to an undoubtedly long-dead witch by the name of Simmons, also had hidden, fatal drawbacks. Muggles were constructing a major new roadway less than fifty metres away. With Muggle development imminent, that property would assume too high a profile.

Bladvak also visited the old Wilkes tract in North Yorkshire. It also seemed perfect on parchment - obscure, abandoned, not too large, and no payments for decades on a Gringotts mortgage far larger, with accumulated interest, than the land could possibly be worth. But on walk through, something was off; unnerving even a goblin not much inclined to upset. He dispatched a specialised squad. They reported the presence of significant Dark magic. Further investigation determined that the last Wilkes had been a Death Eater.

The acreage he would visit tonight seemed just as promising as the Wilkes parcel. It was abandoned; its last record owner some sort of lunatic who died in wizard prison. The place was obscure - so much so that Bladvak had almost detoured to West Sussex, before determining the actual location to be Hope-Under-Dinmore, Herefordshire. It was small, under twenty acres.

Most importantly, the property's mortgage had been in default for almost a century. The last payment Gringotts had received was in 1938 from a prior owner, one Marvolo Gaunt.

Bladvak hoped he would finally find precisely the property he sought - some odd lot nobody had heard of or would care about. With it he would establish a precedent for foreclosures, now that the Potter blocking shares protected Gringotts.

* * * *

Double Transfiguration. Depending on the lesson, it could be as easy as Herbology or as vexing as Potions with Snape on a bad day. Today tended toward the difficult side. The N.E.W.T.-Level class were practising cross-animations with higher animals, mammals and birds. Professor McGonagall demonstrated the concept dramatically at the lesson's outset - Transfiguring an ibex Hagrid had somehow procured into an ibis and back again.

The students' assigned tasks were considerably more modest - mice into magpies, shrews into shrikes. The lesson's final assignment was to Transfigure an owl (borrowed from Hogwarts' post owl parliament) into an otter.

Harry worked with Ron, as Professor McGonagall did not allow "involved" couples to pair together in her class. "Hermione would know this," Ron complained as he consulted Transfiguration of Living Things for the proper wand movement for owls.

"A pity we're only doing theoretical work this year on humans … or what passes for that," Harry heard Malfoy hiss from the row behind. "I could turn the Mudblood into a Flobberworm and the world would be better off."

Harry engaged him without bothering to turn around. "See those stoats up there?" Harry muttered, loudly enough that Malfoy heard. "Well, say `hello' to your new reflection - I'll do Mad-Eye one better…."

"Weasel's got that covered," Malfoy sneered whilst leaning closer. "Such a pity that Moody won't be around to see it."

"You son of a witch," Harry growled back. Concentrating, he made a hand motion. His bit of silent, wandless magic caused all of the legs of Malfoy's desk fall off.

"Aaah!" Malfoy yelped as he toppled into Harry.

Harry grabbed at Malfoy's robes, trying to wrestle him to the floor.

Ron whirled about and tried to push Harry aside, so he could have a go, too. He slipped and succeeded only in pulling Harry backwards.

"Harry, stop!" Hermione called from across the room. "You know he's not worth it."

"I'll not have hooliganism in my classroom!" Professor McGonagall angrily declared. "Ten points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Any more and I'll assign detentions…. And five points to Gryffindor for Mister Weasley's attempt to break things up."

Saying nothing, Ron gave McGonagall a crossways glance. That had not been his intent. He just wanted a clear shot at Malfoy.

Harry shoved Malfoy away, hoping the Slytherin would trip over his collapsed desk. He succeeded, but the fall dislodged something inside Malfoy's robes. It dropped just as Malfoy flipped backwards, and the blond's foot kicked a large envelope across the room. The package slammed into the leg of Justin Finch-Fletchley's chair and broke open.

"Potter, detention!" Professor McGonagall barked.

"It was an accident," Ron protested, although it was anything but.

"What in Merlin's name is this?" Justin blurted, looking at a several sheets of parchment bearing rather precise patterns of lines and boxes. "Some of … they're moving."

"That's mine!" Malfoy yelled, showing his wand. "Give it back before I hex you!"

"Detention for you as well, Malfoy," McGonagall declared. "I'll not have wands drawn on other students in this class. Let me see that, Finch-Fletchley."

"It's nobody's business," Malfoy protested as loudly as he could without risking multiple detentions. "Besides Professor Slughorn's already cleared it."

"I'll see about that." Professor McGonagall looked down her nose at Malfoy as she accepted the pages from Justin.

"This is Paneruditius Parchment," she snipped after a quick glance. "It's not prohibited, but perhaps should be. Explain, Mister Malfoy."

The Slytherin purpled, but maintained a cold and calm voice. "Could I do that in private, please, Professor?"

McGonagall's steely eyes raked the young man. She nodded. "Very well. This way. Class, continue the exercise. Potter and Weasley, see me after class."

The rest of the class gaping, Professor McGonagall led Malfoy through the rear door into her private office.

As soon as the door shut, Professor McGonagall demanded, "Explain yourself." She had her wand out, hanging by her side.

"Umm … I'd rather not have the class, and thus the entire school, know my mail's being searched on Headmaster's orders," Malfoy replied glumly. "It's not good, being thought untrustworthy because of my father…."

The professor's expression was unmoved.

"I still see no reason for drawing your wand in anger, Malfoy," she criticised. "I am quite aware of your situation. Now what are these?" She held up the large parchments.

"Those are the construction blueprints for Malfoy Manor, professor," Malfoy explained. "It's difficult supervising from a distance. These help me follow what the hired wizards are doing. Like I said, my Head of House has already reviewed them."

"A reasonable enough explanation; but under the circumstances … to be sure." She pointed her wand at the parchment.

"Reveal your secrets."

Malfoy held his breath. Fifteen very long seconds elapsed.

Nothing happened.

"Very well." Professor McGonagall nodded. "Such parchment has been a source of great mischief in the past - well before your time, but I have a long memory. You may leave. You will finish the Transfiguration exercise during your detention."

Returning to the classroom, McGonagall was surprised. The desks were shoved against the walls, and in the room's centre stood something resembling a Muggle above-ground swimming pool with two mini-slides. A dozen otters cavorted in the water.

McGonagall smiled tightly. "An excellent display. But why is the rest of this necessary?"

"Professor," began Susan Bones, "we had to keep them Transfigured until you returned, but they wouldn't keep still. It seemed a shame to cage them, so Hermione devised this."

An otter splashed loudly down one of the slides, creating a wave that sloshed over the side.

Professor McGonagall turned to Hermione. "What prompted this, Granger?"

"Everyone wanted full marks, so we had to keep the otters. I've always liked otters. At Muggle zoos, they're kept in places like this, not cages. It seemed cruel not to, so I Transfigured a few of the desks."

"Five points to all four Houses for excellent completion of a difficult assignment," McGonagall announced. "And two extra points to Gryffindor for the nice bit of Transfiguration to keep the otters happy whilst I was otherwise engaged. Class dismissed."

As the class left, Professor McGonagall turned her wand this way and that, Retransfiguring the otters into owls, opening the windows so they could fly to the owlery, reversing Hermione's conjuring, and generally restoring the Transfiguration classroom to its prior, pristine state.

"Wow."

Surprised, McGonagall turned, and saw Harry and Ron waiting by the doorway.

"Umm … you did tell us to stay after class, professor," Harry addressed her respectfully.

"So I did," the professor recalled. "I'm sorry; it slipped my mind. Come."

She led them through the same door she had taken Malfoy. Assuming her usual place behind her desk, she commanded, "Sit."

Harry and Ron looked around the office, then at each other. Obediently, they sat on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Professor McGonagall immediately asked - a moment before realising what the two boys already knew.

"Potter, Weasley, I am indeed sorry. I'm having the elves repair the furniture. Please stand. Cathedrus!" She pointed her wand at two end tables. These turned into unadorned wooden chairs, and hopped forward. The two sat in proper fashion.

"Potter, I'm surprised at your behaviour. I won't tolerate scuffling in class," she upbraided him. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Malfoy insulted Hermione, Professor," Harry complained. "He was also gloating over Mad-Eye's death."

"Oh, pish-posh, Potter," McGonagall responded. "Malfoy is angry and jealous. He is no threat to you or Miss Granger. You have already beaten him, have you not?"

"I … I guess so," Harry answered, assuming she meant the Black Estate will contest.

"Then I want you to ignore him. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Your detention then," McGonagall continued. "It will be served with Kingsley. Contact him and arrange a time. I will request that he train you most vigorously for an evening."

"Yes, Professor."

"And you, Weasley…."

Ron suddenly sat up straight.

"Unlike Mister Potter, you held your temper admirably," McGonagall addressed him. "You are showing improvement. I am pleased. I have also followed the progress of both the Gryffindor and the chosen Quidditch teams. Again, I am impressed with your diligence."

"Umm … thanks, Professor."

"Therefore, I am lifting your close probationary status effective immediately," she told him. "Please stand so I can cancel your Tracking Spell."

Smiling broadly, Ron rose, and McGonagall incanted her "Finite."

"Assuming you keep yourself free of trouble, I will end your probation entirely at the end of the Term. For now, your basic status is unchanged. You remain one serious incident from expulsion - understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Harry rose, expecting to be dismissed. He was premature.

"Finally, I have news for both of you. The worst is over for Miss Bell. She is recovering nicely at St. Mungo's and will return to Hogwarts in a few weeks. Whilst she will not be well enough to play Quidditch this year, when she returns she will resume her captaincy."

Harry looked relieved; Ron sullen.

"Mister Weasley, is there a problem?"

"Not really … does this mean that I … er … we lose our privileges? You know … the key to the clubhouse, use of the Prefects' bathroom … that kind of thing?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. The last thing she wanted, and the last thing Katie Bell needed, was for her return to injure team morale. "I suppose I can compromise," she said, adding by a long-suffering sigh. "You remain captain of the Hogwarts picked team, by Ludo's appointment, so I believe it proper for you to retain your privileges. Potter, however, will revert to his prior status."

"Thanks, Professor!" Ron said even more enthusiastically than before.

Whilst Ron exulted, McGonagall fixed Harry with a stare.

She winked.

He returned it.

* * * *

The weather thawed as daylight lengthened, but Harry's relations with the Ministry did not. They remained, if not in deep freeze, in a sort of wary stasis. After the house-elf disrupted Order of Merlin ceremony, almost nobody in the Ministry, from Rufus Scrimgeour on down, was inclined to do Harry Potter any favours.

The fate of Harry's request that Jazzy, an Order of Merlin winner, be issued a Valkyrie exemplified that unhelpful attitude. Her performance on Hermione's broom at Stonehenge - despite a mismatch that forced her to fly entirely without shielding - indisputably established her competence, despite her young age.

It was not to be.

After considerable delay, some faceless clerk in the Flight Wing office sent Harry a note that his request was denied for "security considerations." Apparently, Jazzy had failed a "background check." Her family's "adherence" to "the traditions and laws of the English Ministry" could not be verified. In other words, because she lacked pure-blood genealogy, and came from Kashmir, she could not be trusted with a Valkyrie - despite being the youngest Order of Merlin laureate since that award had assumed its current form in 1648.

The denial angered Harry more than Jazzy - or even Hermione. Jazzy trusted nobody outside her small coterie of friends, and certainly not the Ministry. Muggle-born Hermione was all too familiar with the Ministry's pervasive pure-blood biases, both great and small. Harry had still possessed a thin sliver of hope that the Wizard establishment was redeemable. When trodden on, that provoked an emotional reaction.

The previous year, he had laid waste to the Headmaster's office. Now older and wiser, Harry simply seethed. His decision to counter Thicknesse - whose hand he saw in the slight to Jazzy - was cemented.

Whilst the Ministry would not do Harry any favours, neither did it move against him. A few Wizengamot hotheads, egged on by traditionalist propagandists in the Prophet and elsewhere, demanded action against Harry's literacy and liberty initiatives at the Château.

Both programmes became public in late March after Harry sacked Ima Hogg. The elf literacy program had not progressed as he had hoped. Jerry McAllister confirmed that it languished largely because Hogg was (as both Harry and Hermione suspected) ill-inclined to push the issue with reticent elves, because she opposed improvements in house-elf status, or even living conditions.

Harry sacked her straightaway. With Jerry's help, he hired a Squib by the name of Gretchen Sklary, who previously taught kindergarten and Year One in Leeds. A reading enthusiast, Gretchen solemnly promised to spare no energy or expense to have all of the house-elves literate by September next.

Harry offered Ima Hogg more-than-fair severance - to his embarrassment, more than he was paying Gretchen - if Hogg would go quietly and stay that way. To his surprise, she refused, and went straight to the press.

Of course, Harry forbade a peeved Rita Skeeter from having any contact with his traitorous ex-employee. She complied with a great show of reluctance. Other reporters predictably stepped into the breech - followed by commentators - followed by screamers.

But that was all.

Despite Ministry pique at Harry (and Hermione) over the events of the Order of Merlin ceremony - nobody, it seems, believed that Neville was bold enough to act independently - no official retaliation ensued. Pricklish or not, Harry's formal relations with the Ministry stayed the same. The Minister ignored fringe demands to reopen the Black inheritance.

Harry knew full well what had happened. He had caused it. Through Shak as an intermediary, he informed Minister Scrimgeour that he would maintain his peace concerning the circumstances of the Battle of Stonehenge. The Ministry could continue to claim partial credit for the victory even though it had, in truth, been caught unawares (or worse). Any retaliation for how Harry chose to treat the Château's house-elves, and Harry would tell the world exactly how close Voldemort had come to violently overthrowing the Ministry.

Harry had witnesses … physical evidence … and an entire goblin army to back up his version of what happened.

Harry thus learned to appreciate the practice of realpolitik.

So, a standoff. The Ministry had long pursued a hands-off policy towards house-elf matters at the great wizard estates that employed - rather, owned - the vast majority of elves. That autonomy justified Ministry inaction when the Malfoys or the Blacks mistreated their chattel, or even killed them. It enabled the wall-mounted elf heads at Grimmauld Place.

Jujitsu-like, tradition could be wielded against tradition. Harry interposed the same noninterference principle to prevent interference with his efforts as Proprietor of Château Blackwalls to liberate the same elves his predecessors held in bondage.

Turnabout was fair play.

Other influences were also at work.

Rita made sure Hermione knew of the reporter's rebuff of several unofficial attempts to generate negative publicity against both her and Harry. Rita knew where her interests, if not necessarily her loyalty, lay. Her reaction went beyond simply spurning the overtures. She actively, if surreptitiously, hindered efforts to induce other reporters to draft assorted scandalous and salacious stories.

Otherwise, Rita busily polished the Basilisk story. She quite rightly viewed it as the biggest scoop of her career.

The Headmaster also had his sources.

Less than three days before Dumbledore was due to give public testimony before the Wizengamot, sitting as a committee of the whole, Harry received a summons to the old man's office.

Hermione was not so summoned. Harry was on his own.

"I understand that you have quite a surprise on tap prior to my Wizengamot appearance," the Headmaster remarked, dispensing with his usual circumlocutions, save the ritual offer of a lemon drop.

Dumbledore's sudden straight-forwardness caught Harry off-guard, as probably intended. "I don't know … er … how did you … you know about that?"

"As you know, Rita is banned from the Castle, save when supervised," the Headmaster pointed out.

"But I … er … we were `supervising' her, if that's what you call it," Harry countered, none too happy at being found out. "She never left our sight."

"Ah … but she left the room I had assigned for the purpose of your interview," Dumbledore responded, his eye twinkling. "When we released her, I took the precaution of requesting that the staff be alert to her possible presence, in both human and insect form. I gave the same instructions to our resident ghosts."

The Headmaster having relapsed into periphrasis, Harry saw where he was going before he finished. "Bloody Moaning Myrtle grassed on us," Harry groaned.

Dumbledore's eyebrows went up. "Did you request that she not?"

"Umm … no," Harry had to admit. "Didn't think of it, really. But how did you know what we're doing? Er … you do know, don't you?"

For a moment, Harry worried that he had let the Headmaster suss him out on a guess.

"Please, Mister Potter, give someone besides Miss Granger credit for intelligence," Dumbledore began, his twinkling eyes now annoying Harry to no end. "Given the subject of my summons, and your reaction, it was but a small deductive leap when Myrtle reported that you two, and Rita, were examining a certain plumbing fixture in her bathroom. Obviously, you were explaining how you originally entered the Chamber of Secrets."

A pause, heavily pregnant, ensued. The two mutely stared at one another.

Finally, Harry broke the silence. "Are you going to try and stop me?"

"No … but I would request that you not proceed," Dumbledore earnestly replied. "You have no reason to make yourself a lightning rod over this. I am quite capable of handling myself before the Wizengamot."

"This isn't about me," Harry reacted. "I'm toast anyway. I killed the bloody thing; no way around that. But I don't want Ron, and especially Ginny, dragged into this mess…. You know they will be."

"I know that Pius and his supporters will so attempt, wittingly or otherwise," Dumbledore answered Harry's question. "You have no more ability to keep Miss Weasley's identity a secret than I do."

"Once they know what happened, they won't want to call me," Harry cited the Headmaster's own words back to him.

"True, they will not," Dumbledore agreed. "But how do you propose avoiding Miss Weasley's role? Please, tell me you have not concocted the biggest lie Rita has ever published."

"No lies," Harry insisted. Emphatically, he thrust his right wrist under the Headmaster's nose, his "I must not tell lies" scar plainly, if faintly, visible. "I'm admitting I went down there after Volde … Riddle took Ginny. I'm avoiding only her possession. I shaved the memories I showed Rita so she knows only that Ginny was there when I fought the Basilisk."

That turned the tables. "Memories? Dear me, you used a Pensieve? When did you learn that magic?"

"I didn't," Harry readily revealed. "Shak … er … Professor Shacklebolt did it for me. He's great with that kind of thing."

"Indeed he is," Dumbledore ruefully agreed. The Auror's appointment as Harry's guardian was producing unintended consequences. "So what is the gist of your story?"

Harry previewed the upcoming bombshell article - slated to run in two days. Exactly how the Chamber had been opened, and Ginny Weasley abducted, was a mystery, but Harry's ostensible guess blamed closet Voldemort supporters within the Castle. The story was heavy with aspersions implicating ex-Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy, both of whom were conveniently fugitives.

The Headmaster winced at Harry's false accusations against Snape, but said nothing. Certain things remained too sensitive to reveal, even to Harry.

Harry's Parseltongue ability was public knowledge, so discovery of the Basilisk and the hidden entrance to the Chamber was essentially accurate. Ginny was portrayed as an innocent victim - the cause of her selection unknown - speculation being that the Weasleys were targeted as "blood traitors" and conveniently had so many children at Hogwarts.

Ron aided the discovery, but Harry's story left him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom - to get help if Harry did not return in an hour. Harry explained how they dealt with Professor Lockhart, who in another serendipitous coincidence, lacked any memory to contradict that, or any other, aspect of the story.

The Pensieve memories supporting Harry's story were carefully sculpted to avoid Ginny's possession. The Riddle diary and its destruction were omitted. When Harry killed the Basilisk, Riddle shade, or whatever it was, either vanished or fled.

Dumbledore nodded, asked an occasional clarifying question, but was generally left Harry to explain what the Skeeter article would contain without interruption.

"…So that's pretty much it," Harry concluded. "What do you think?"

"Truly a masterpiece of story-telling," the Headmaster concluded. "It may well succeed. With the Kingsley providing the Aurors with your supporting memories simultaneously with publication, I doubt Pius or his allies would seek to ask any more of you. Public opinion would not permit it."

"Yeah," Harry grimaced. "Because I'll be even more of a damn hero than I am already."

"Every bit of that status being truly and justly earned," the Headmaster responded. "Still, I repeat my request. Please do not do this. You will trigger a chain of events that cannot be foreseen. You would be entering the political fray prematurely. Your public choosing of sides will make enemies that you need not make."

"You'd have to mention Ginny's possession," Harry returned to first principles. "Think what that would do to her - and to her father."

A half-smile appeared beneath the Headmaster's beard. "Noble intentions, indeed…. And no doubt selflessly directed. But have no fear; my testimony shall not mention Miss Weasley's possession any more than would your newspaper story. I have given Arthur and Molly my word."

"But they'll ask you," Harry resisted. "You'll be under oath. You'd have to lie. I don't want that either."

"Truth is always preferable to lies," Dumbledore maintained serenely. "I shall not lie. I shall invoke teacher-student confidentiality."

That stopped Harry cold. "But … what's that? A right lot of things have come out that shouldn't have, I reckon…. Snape for one. He made sure the whole Castle knew I was taking Remedial bloody Potions."

"Severus was a special case, I regret to say," the Headmaster sighed. "But you are correct - teacher-student confidentiality is a fiction. The Board of Governors would not permit that."

"Then … what are you doing?" Harry said, nonplussed. "It sounds like you're just going to refuse to answer their questions."

"Essentially, correct," Dumbledore admitted. "I would ask permission to use your name as an excuse at times…."

"Of course," Harry's voice hitched. "But couldn't they … oh, I don't know, sack you again, like last year?"

"I suppose they could," the Headmaster admitted. "If convicted of contempt of the Wizengamot, I could no longer hold this position. But to pursue contempt charges, they would have to recall me yet again … with your exploits already public. That would be an event of low probability - our adversaries would incur a substantial political price."

"No!" Harry declared. "If your plan's just to stare them down, you're risking getting sacked again. I won't take that risk. I'm going ahead with my story."

Dumbledore had been lounging in his swivel chair. Looking surprised, he swung forward, so quickly that his pointed purple hat flopped onto his desk in front of him. "Your expression of loyalty is most gratifying, and rather unexpected. But I am already an old man, and I am certain…."

"No," Harry repeated, cutting the "old man" off. "You have no idea what it was like for me - for all of us - last year after you left. Look what happened!" For a second time, Harry showed Dumbledore the lasting scar from Umbridge's blood quills. "I don't want … I can't go through that again…. I need to feel … safe at Hogwarts so I can learn what I have to and do what I must. Call it loyalty, if you want, or call it self interest, but I'm not risking your position here if I can possibly avoid it…."

The Headmaster looked both flattered and frustrated. "I cannot persuade you otherwise, then?"

"Not unless you could keep the Weasleys out of this without jeopardising your own position," Harry stood firm. "I haven't heard that."

"Regrettably, you will not," Dumbledore conceded, his eyes boring into Harry's.

"Don't try anything," Harry warned, turning his own eyes away and readying his Occlumency.

"That was never my intent," the Headmaster demurred. "I simply have one final question. Why, in the larger scheme of things, do you care what happens to the Weasleys?"

Harry almost fell out of his chair.

"They're my friends! I guess it's what Hermione calls my `saving people thing.' Ginny suffered a lot," Harry stumbled into an explanation. "Bloody Voldemort possessed her for months. I went through that for just a few minutes, and it's horrible," Harry remembered. "To have her name dragged through the mud to score political points against her dad - so soon after what happened to Ron … and Bill…. She was, and still is, targeted because of me … they all were actually … the Weasleys."

Regarding Harry quizzically, Dumbledore remarked, "I recall an incident in the Gryffindor Quidditch quarters. She put you and … another … into the Hospital Wing. And Molly with her Howlers … is this truly your fight?"

Harry felt warmth in his face. "You don't know Ginny like I do," he rejected the Headmaster's insinuations. "Like me sometimes she reacts in ways that she later regrets…."

"Indeed, as now, I fear," Dumbledore ostensibly agreed.

"…and we don't need Arthur distracted, with the situation in France," Harry added.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "The political point you make is well taken…. So there is no deterring you."

"For the third time, no," Harry reacted badly. "Is there anything more? I'd like to study for Potions tomorrow."

"I suppose not," the Headmaster ended the discussion. "Just a bit of advice. As the Muggles say, `fasten your seat belt,' you are in for a bumpy ride, and the ultimate destination is far from clear."

* * * *

Author's notes: Unity governments tend to be unstable

The Fifth Estate is the French magical parliament

"La Perfide Albion" is an uncomplimentary French view of England, dating at least to the Hundred Years War

Harry's Reims adventure was in Ch. 26

The war declaration was in Ch. 29

The French magical awards correspond to the L'Ordre nationale du Mérite and the Légion d'honneur; "Pucelle" (Maid) being a name for Joan of Arc

The rooster is a French national symbol

Had there been no house-elf incident at the Order of Merlin ceremony, Scrimgeour would have fired Thicknesse. What goes around comes around

In canon, it seems that Harry's second year Basilisk encounter was quite effectively hushed up

The Hawaiian character was introduced in Ch. 47

Moa are colorful chickens brought to Hawai'i by the Polynesians; their crows are quite loud, as any visitor to Kauai's Kokee area can attest

The goblin guards figure later on

Rita's vow was in Ch. 47

Far Side was a cartoon in which women often wore outlandish glasses

Rita's "don't pick a fight" line originally referred to the press, which bought ink by the barrel

Harry's Pensieve testimony against Umbridge was in Ch. 8

Slughorn's failed attempt at faking memories occurred in Ch. 62

Snape's finely trimmed memory of Lily's death is mentioned in Ch. 60

Compared to the Lust Powder's effects, the Prince's love potion is mild

Ginny's headband was created in Ch. 29

With Arthur's ministry position, Ginny's concealed possession from CoS could create a huge political scandal

Harry assumes, rightly, that Voldemort knew about the diary's fate; he does not know that his destruction of the diary caused the Horcrux to wind up inside Ginny

The controlled Horcrux is insufficiently active to feel like possession; Ginny will eventually recognize the feeling again

"Two and Only" - a reference to an ample bust - was a nickname Bob Hope coined for Jane Russell

The Auror spells were first taught in Ch. 9

Daphne will make good use of her Face Fogging Charm

The Kineticus Charm was used in Ch. 14

Things degenerated into magical paintball

Dragon ambergris was introduced in Ch. 23

Polyurethane and surfactants are accurately described

Demand curves and price sensitivity are elementary economic concepts

Unmasking the goblin was another consequence of Hermione's Druid spell

The idea behind Bladvak's task was broached in Ch. 51

Claws are the goblin analog to "boots on the ground"

Harry's blocking shares were revealed in Ch. 14

Bladvak gets more than he bargained for

Paneruditius Parchment dates from Ch. 20

Malfoy Manor was partially destroyed in Ch. 33, as Malfoy escaped

Hermione's always liked otters, especially with a "P" in front

The Malfoy not a threat comment is ironic

Ron's probationary status will become important

Ima Hogg will be back

The Quidditch incident was in Ch. 59

51

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