Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; it belongs to JK Rowling, etc etc.
Authors Note: This chapter is a lot shorter than my usual ones. This is because I wanted to have something to post for you guys when I went up to see my brother (for the lucky sod has the Internet) and this was all I could do. It would have been longer, but I've been ill and who wants to write when your head throbbing like a drum. On the plus side, I will hopefully have the Internet back sometime after Christmas, which will mean more regular updates. Hazzah! Also, I have posted a new Harry Potter story. It's a time travel story (I've always wanted to write one of them, mainly because I've yet to find one I actually like) with my own little twist on it. It's already got several chapters to it, so I implore you all to go check it out and I hope you enjoy it. It should be up either today or tommorow.
That night, Harry found the second victim.
He stepped free of the spinning gargoyle and began down the corridor. Idly, he noticed the vague form lying in the middle of the passage, but he couldn't discern what it was until he got nearer. He was a few feet away when he noticed it was a body and was staring down at it when he realised it was a girl. She was roughly his age, Harry saw, probably from his year. She had neck length blonde hair and a cherubic face, which had gone lifeless and dead. He flicked his wrist and his wand instantly fell into his tight grip.
If the assailant was near, Harry wanted to be ready. He quickly scanned the area, looking for anything out of ordinary that might give the enemy (or enemies) away. He found nothing in his direct vicinity, but that didn't make him any less wary. There was no sign of the Dark Mark, which meant either the assailant felt it was no longer necessary (Harry doubted it - psychopathic zealots always left their mark), or he was interrupted before the mark could be cast. Harry thought the last most likely, and probably by him.
Harry knelt by the body of the girl, who looked vaguely familiar, and lifted her up and into his arms. He didn't like how this left him defenceless, but it couldn't be helped. He then proceeded back the way he came, towards the headmaster's office. He spoke the password, the gargoyle moved aside, and Harry climbed the steps to the office. He didn't knock on the door, but just pressed his shoulder against the wood and eased in.
Dumbledore turned from examining Fawkes and went still when the spotted the body in Harry's arms. Weary lines of sadness that hadn't existed in the headmasters face only a few short days ago grew more prominent as Dumbledore sagged and raised a hand to his forehead. Harry only waited, giving the old man time to gather himself.
'Through here, Harry,' Dumbledore finally said, indicating his private chambers. Harry followed him into the room. Unlike the main chamber, the walls of this room remained free of the portraits of former headmasters and -mistresses. A large collection of books filled out several bookshelves that lined the room. A large comfy looking mahogany framed bed dominated the room, decked in golden sheets. When Harry looked up, he had the impression of looking into a starry sky, cloudless and infinitely black, with speckles of white light winking intermittently. 'Place her on the bed.'
Dumbledore was grave as Harry did so.
The two wizards retreated to the main chamber and sat down. Dumbledore looked frailer than ever, like he had no idea what to do next. Harry took pity on the man.
'I found her in the corridor, but there was no Dark Mark, so I'm guessing I scared off whoever did it. I had a quick look around, but I couldn't find any trace of him. I recognise the girl, but I'm not sure exactly what her name is. I think she belongs to Hufflepuff, though. And she's in my year. What are we going to do?'
'I must inform Rufus Scrimgeour,' Dumbledore replied tiredly.
'Must you?' Harry leant back in his chair. 'I mean, we both know what he'll do. He'll have to report the attack, and he'll no doubt accuse me of killing her, seeing as I found her.'
'What would you have me do?'
Harry sighed. 'Honestly, I don't know,' Harry replied truthfully. 'Anyway, that's not what I meant. I mean, what are we going to do about these attacks?'
'I've told you. Until we have some kind of clue, we can't do anything,' Dumbledore said, hating himself for having to speak the terrible words.
'That's not good enough,' Harry argued. 'I've already started to patrol the corridors myself, but I'm just one guy. I suppose if you report the attack, you could get some Aurors to act as guards. Then again, I'm not so sure I'd trust them enough to let them into Hogwarts, if it was up to me. They could easily be under Imperious.'
'You see what Voldemort does,' Dumbledore said softly, 'leading even his most steadfast adversaries into paranoia.'
'It's kinda my personality, as well,' Harry pointed out. 'I don't trust easily under normal circumstances. Never mind this. You trying to tell me he doesn't get to you?'
Dumbledore sighed heavily. 'Unfortunately, you're right. Voldemort's mere existence is enough to turn people against each other in fear. With everything that has happened, I cannot say in full confidence that I am immune to this. The desertion of Severus Snape has shaken me more than I like to admit. I trusted that man, and yet…'
'Who do you trust now?' Harry asked, interested.
Dumbledore looked at Harry pointedly.
'Right,' Harry said, 'but other than me?' The headmaster's unswerving faith in him was somewhat uncomfortable to Harry, but he was unsure as to why that was so.
'Minerva McGonagall,' Dumbledore answered at once, 'Molly Weasley, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin.'
'The inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix, basically,' Harry filled in, interrupting.
'Correct.'
'Could you get them to come in? Act as guards?' Harry proposed.
'I could, but that would vastly deplete the Order's resources on the outside,' Dumbledore said.
Harry cursed under his breath. 'Well, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes, because I have no idea,' Harry said. 'Rest assured, whatever you decide, I'll continue to patrol the corridors at night, and I'll see if I can get a little help as well.'
'I expected no less from you,' Dumbledore said fondly.
Harry tried to ignore the affection in the old mans voice as he rose to leave.
'I will inform the Minister, Harry.' Harry stopped and looked back at his headmaster. 'I have no choice in the matter, but I thought you would appreciate the warning. He will probably want to speak with you. Best be prepared.'
'Yeah,' Harry said. 'Thanks.'
'Thank you, Harry.'
Again, the warmth in the old wizards voice caused a war of emotions inside Harry, and to avoid saying something he would possibly regret, Harry nodded and left the room.
As both Harry and Dumbledore predicted, Rufus Scrimgeour publicised the attacks within Hogwarts the very next day. The Daily Prophet was released with several pictures of the first two victims and a five-page story on the subject. The second victim was Hannah Abbot. When Harry read her name in the paper, he remembered seeing the girl during the sorting and how happy she was. He'd never really talked to her, but that little memory he had of her was enough to cause rage to boil inside him, fuelling his need to find out who was behind all the attacks.
That wasn't all though. The Minister for Magic had latched onto the only suspect he had, and so, Harry was escorted to an abandoned classroom later that same day for an "interview". Harry knew it was really an interrogation. Dumbledore was supposed to be overseeing the "interview", but Harry wasn't surprised to find the aged headmaster absent.
'Potter, take a seat,' Rufus Scrimgeour instructed, gesturing to an empty wooden chair. Harry entered the room casually, but declined the offered seat. It was a small act of defiance, but it left him feeling infinitely satisfied. The Minister narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment. He motioned to his left. 'This is Matilda House; she will be documenting our little interview. Just ignore her. Let's get started, shall we?' He again gestured to the chair.
Again, Harry ignored it.
'So, what do you want to know?' Harry said pre-emptively. 'Wait, before you start accusing me, let me just point out. I have two extremely credible witnesses for both of the attacks. First of all, and I'm aware she would be considered biased, but I was with my very intelligent and tremendously beautiful girlfriend during the entire night of the first attack (and no I won't tell you how). Then, and this is the real treat, during the second attack I was with Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot! Oh and let's not forget his Order of Merlin, first class, shall we?'
'What's your point, Potter?' Scrimgeour demanded.
'My point is why don't you stop wasting time sniffing around me like an overactive bitch in season and go catch the real bad guys! I mean, I know I'm gorgeous, but really, it's hardly appropriate.'
The Minister for Magic went as red as a beetroot, his chest swelling with anger. Harry was reminded very much of his Uncle Vernon - minus the silly moustache.
'How dare you speak to me that way?' Rufus Scrimgeour roared.
'Why, am I supposed to be impressed by your title?' Harry retorted. 'I'd have a better time with that if you weren't so obviously incompetent. I think I prefer Fudge, and that's saying something. Why is it that when situations get tough, the public is all too happy to hand over the reigns to the first bumbling idiot willing to do the job? All you want is a scapegoat. You're not at all interested in getting to the bottom of this, just as long as you can point at someone, in this case me, and say you got the guy, all to cover your own idiotic ass. Please, I have more respect for Voldemort than you. At least he doesn't go around pretending to be something he's not.'
'Ah, so you admit it!' Scrimgeour said triumphantly. He turned to his note taker eagerly, 'did you get that?'
'Forget it,' Harry said. 'You can accuse me all you want, but you have no proof. Fact is, I'm the only one capable of figuring this out, just like I'm the only one that can take down Voldemort. So unless you have some un-presented evidence, I'm out of here.'
'Don't even think about leaving.'
'And how are you going to stop me?' Harry spread his hands for emphasis. 'Arrest me? Charge me with what? Insulting the Minister for Magic? I don't think you can arrest someone for that, especially when they're telling the truth. I only agreed to come to this damn "interview" because Dumbledore requested that I humour you. And another thing, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore won't be pleased when he realises you intentionally told him the wrong time just to get a few extra minutes alone with me. All in all, you pretty much screwed yourself here, don't you think? Now, I'll take my bow,' Harry bowed sarcastically, 'and I'm off. Later Minister. Keep up the swell work.'
Harry slammed the door behind him.
Rufus Scriemgour turned to face his bemused secretary, his face mottled red, mouth wide in what can only be described as jaw dropping, indisputable shock.
Draco Malfoy was in stitches, clutching his sides, his hair disarrayed due to his uncontrollable laughter.
Hermione didn't look as amused.
'I can't believe you spoke to the Minister for Magic that way!'
'Oh, come on,' Harry said, grinning a little also, 'you can't tell me you agree with his policies. Sure, he's arrested a bunch of guys for supposedly being Death Eaters, but I'd wager my own left testicle that they're innocent.'
That only added to Draco's giggles.
'Would you shut up?' Hermione snapped at him.
Draco stopped only long enough to cast a glance her way, and then dissolved into laughter again. Harry chuckled as well.
'It's not funny!' Hermione let out a large huff of annoyance. 'You're in serious trouble here Harry. The Minister for Magic suspects you of being in league with Voldemort and the more you antagonise him, the more he'll stick to his views. You have to try and reason with him. Insulting him is most certainly not the solution.'
'Hermione,' Harry said in his best calming tone, 'you know I would never intentionally put myself in danger. If I thought for even a millisecond that Scrimgeour actually had a shred of evidence, however tangible, then I would obviously try to reason with him. But the fact is, he doesn't, and he never will. He can't!'
'But why would you…'
'Hermione,' Harry interrupted, taking her hand, 'there's only so much accusation a guy can take before he snaps back. It probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but I couldn't help it. The man's a total buffoon. I wouldn't trust him with cleaning my shoes, let alone running a government. He's a typical military man - running half cocked into any situation that looks even remotely plausible, without even a thought that he might be wrong, and trust me, he's wrong a hell of lot more than he is right. It's why he was elected as minister, sad fact that it is. People feel more secure when someone is actually doing something, even if it's completely in the wrong.'
'I still think you shouldn't have said those things,' Hermione said. 'He doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would just let something like that go.'
'I agree with you,' Harry replied, 'but either way, I'm his prime suspect. Besides, it was really therapeutic.'
Draco gave another little laugh, nodding his head knowingly and leaning back in his chair. Hermione looked between him and Harry, shaking her head in exasperation, and then gave a little smile of her own. 'I suppose he deserves it,' she admitted. 'The Minister is supposed to be impartial, after all, and he clearly has it in for you.'
'If not before,' Draco interjected, 'he certainly does now.' He laughed again.
Hermione shook her head again. 'I don't like it, but I can't argue with you about that. He really does sound like a terrible Minister.'
'That's my girl,' Harry said, leaning over to give her a kiss. 'And don't worry about a thing. Trust me, I have nothing to fear from Rufus "where's-my-brain" Scrimgeour.'
'I hope so.'