Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 8:  Summer’s End

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves – ”

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Ch. 6

*  *  *

“The Order of the Phoenix?”  Ron’s brows were crinkled in puzzlement.  “What in blazes is that?”

They were back at the Burrow, waiting for Remus to return from the Department of Magical Transportation with Fred and George and their Exam results.  Mrs. Weasley and Ginny weren’t back yet either.

“Sirius didn’t tell me, really,” said Harry.  “Just that Hagrid has to get one representative from each race of intelligent beings to be in it.  It sounded like an emergency council to fight Voldemort.”  Harry carefully laid another card on the tower he and Ron were building on the hearthrug with the Exploding Snap cards.

Hermione, curled up on the sofa, sighed quietly and closed her book.  Ron whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Don’t tell me!” he said sharply.  “It’s in Hogwarts, A History, right?”

“The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,” said Hermione loftily.  “And honestly, Harry, I’m amazed that you at least haven’t read that one.  It’s kind of about you.”

Harry flushed.  Hermione had told him, on the train when he’d first met her, of three books she’d seen his name in.  He still remembered the titles, but he’d never been able to bring himself to read any of them – it seemed so conceited.  Even the possibility of finding new information about his parents hadn’t been enough to overcome his discomfort.

“Err, maybe you can lend it to me?” he mumbled, not looking up.

“Oh, sure, I – oh!”  Her face stiffened.  “Sorry, all burned up,” she said with a false breeziness.  “But you can get it out of the Hogwarts Library.”

“In the meantime,” said Ron to Hermione with an exaggerated show of patience, “do you think you could possibly give us just a tiny hint?  What is the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Well,” said Hermione, frowning, “I don’t really know all that much about it.  The last time it met was fifty years ago, in response to the dark wizard Grindelwald.  There were a lot of people, then, who thought that Grindelwald wasn’t really so bad.  But the Order debated, and put all their information together, and decided that he had to be stopped.  They chose Dumbledore as their Defender – it didn’t say how, just that he was the chosen one – and all the races gave him some kind of magical aid or knowledge, and they sent him to battle Grindelwald one-on-one.  You know what happened – he defeated him, of course.  That’s why he’s had Fawkes with him ever since – no one can keep a Phoenix for a pet, but one can choose to live with you.”

“That book isn’t really about the Order of the Phoenix,” said Hermione thoughtfully.  “I need to find a better source.  But there was a footnote about people wondering why the Order wasn’t convened again when Voldemort rose.  One theory was that some of the beings agreed with Voldemort that Muggles are the true enemy.  Another was that they did meet, and chose a Defender, but he failed.”  Hermione gave Harry a sidelong look and pressed her lips together.

“What?” asked Harry impatiently.  It was obvious that there was something she wasn’t saying.

“Well, if you’re going to read the book, you’ll see it anyway,” said Hermione slowly.  “It said – or implied really – that the Defender chosen was Simon Potter (your grandfather, Harry) and that after he failed, Voldemort killed him, and your father – and tried to kill you – in revenge.”

Harry stared at Hermione with his mouth open.  He didn’t even flinch when the card tower exploded beside him on the rug.  How many more things did Hermione know about him that he didn’t know?  I didn’t even know my grandfather’s name was Simon.  And that Voldemort killed him too…  Irresistibly, Harry’s mind was drawn back to a conversation he’d had with Albus Dumbledore.  He’d asked the Headmaster why Voldemort had wanted to kill him in the first place, and Dumbledore had said that he couldn’t tell him that, but that Harry would know some day.  Did he not want to tell me that my grandfather had failed?  Because it would discourage me too much? Or was he just forbidden from telling the secrets of the Order?

“All right there, Harry?”  Ron was looking at him worriedly.  Harry forced himself to close his mouth.

“Yeah, fine.  Uhh, it sounds like I should do a little more reading about my family history…”  He was interrupted by the sudden outbreak of a great deal of noise from the kitchen.  Clearly, George, Fred, and Professor Lupin were back, and it sounded as if Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were back, too.  From the sound of their voices, Harry was pretty sure that the twins had passed their Apparition test.  This was confirmed in a moment as Fred and George both Apparated from the kitchen to the parlour, identical wide grins on their identical freckled faces.

“Well, if it isn’t Percy Two and Percy Three,” said Ron sourly.  The twins grinned even more widely.

“Yeah, no more stairs for us!” said George.  Ron rolled his eyes, and Hermione gave him an admonishing look.

“You got it then?” she asked, and then beamed at their nods.  “Well done!”

Remus Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny came in from the kitchen in the more normal way.  Remus was smiling broadly and Mrs. Weasley was looking proud, but also very apprehensive.  Ginny was absorbed in the small black creature cradled in her hands.

“Oh, Ginny!”  Hermione jumped up from the sofa and ran to her.  “Is that your kitten?  Oh, what’s its name?”

“I haven’t named him yet,” said Ginny.  Ron got to his feet and ambled over to stroke the small animal with one long finger.

“It’s a little scrawny,” Ron said critically.  “Are you sure it’s old enough to be away from its mum?”

“He’s six weeks old,” said Ginny.  “That’s old enough.”  Harry looked at the little cat curiously as Ginny knelt beside him on the hearthrug and set it on its feet.  It was very small and skinny, with fuzzy black fur and green eyes.

“Uhh, it’s cute,” Harry said lamely.  He wasn’t much of a cat fancier.  Ginny’s eyes were shining as if the little kitten was something really special.

Fred leaned close to Ron and whispered something in his ear, and Ron sniggered.  Harry looked at him enquiringly, but Ron avoided his eyes and spoke to Ginny.

“So, what are you gonna name him, Gin?  It’s kind of hairy, isn’t it?”  Hermione suddenly giggled, and Ginny whirled on her.

“You don’t say a word,” she hissed fiercely, “unless you want to hear what I think of your cat.”  Harry looked curiously between the two girls; they were both blushing.  

At that moment, Hermione’s big orange-red tomcat, Crookshanks, strolled into the room.  He made for Hermione with his tail in the air, and then froze in horror at the sight of the new kitten, revulsion clear on his face.  With great dignity, he backed away and jumped in one leap to the back of the sofa, where he sat, lashing his tail irritably.

Ron looked at the two cats with his brows raised.

“Crookshanks doesn’t seem to like him much – d’you think?”  Ron looked meaningfully from Harry to Hermione.  Yet again, Harry was reminded that Ginny and the twins had never been told about Sirius being innocent and Scabbers being Peter Pettigrew.  This suddenly seemed crazy.  They should be told that they had shared their home with a vicious criminal for twelve years.

Hermione frowned, but then shook her head.  “I think it’s just natural cat suspicion of a new cat,” she said thoughtfully.  “Crookshanks isn’t hissing or anything.  Maybe they’ll become friends.”  The new kitten chose that moment to climb up the sofa, holding on awkwardly with its splayed paws.  Crookshanks retreated nervously to the end of the sofa, then leapt off and fled the room.  It didn’t look as if the two cats would be friends anytime soon.

Remus Lupin was shaking the twins’ hands and saying his goodbyes.  He turned to Harry next, and shook his hand warmly.

“Take care of yourself this year, Harry,” he said sombrely.  “I don’t want to have to put up with the ranting and raving I’ll hear if you get into any danger.”

“Yes, okay, I will,” Harry answered.  “Umm, pet your dog for me, will you?”  Remus smiled and nodded, and turned to say his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione.  Harry thought back to his parting with Sirius an hour or so before.  Sirius had caught him around the shoulders in a one-handed hug and ruffled his hair with his other hand.  It was the first time Harry could remember anyone hugging him except for Hermione and Mrs. Weasley.  Of the three, Mrs. Weasley was the best hugger.  She must get loads of practice.  Sirius had seemed almost as embarrassed about the whole thing as Harry was.  But still, it felt good to be hugged, even if it was kind of awkward.

Oh God, I am the most pathetic person in the world, sitting here thinking about this!  Harry shook his head angrily and turned back to Remus, who was saying something.

“That’s great!” answered Ron enthusiastically.  “We’ll see you in Hogsmeade, then.”

After Remus had left, Fred and George looked each other in the eye, grinned, and simultaneously disappeared.  Either they could read each other’s mind, or they had planned their first Apparating destination in advance.  Mrs. Weasley stomped into the kitchen, grumbling loudly about what she’d do the twins if they thought they could just pop out without a by your leave.  Ginny scooped up her new pet and followed her mother, speaking in a revolting baby talk about milk and food.  Harry stopped Hermione as she was about to follow Ginny.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.  He looked from Hermione to Ron.  “Uhh, what was that last thing Remus said?”

“He’s going to come give us a refresher on every Hogsmeade weekend,” said Ron.  “Dumbledore wants to make sure we don’t forget how to Apparate.” 

“Oh, that’s good,” said Harry absently.  He didn’t think there was any danger of him ever forgetting how to Apparate, but it would be nice to see Remus occasionally, and hear from Sirius.  He led Ron and Hermione out onto the front porch for a little more privacy.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ve been thinking we need to tell Fred and George and Ginny about Snuffles and Scabbers and all that.  Your Mum and Dad, and Bill know already, and – it seems like they should have the right to know that Voldemort’s right hand man was living in their house.

Hermione agreed quickly, and volunteered to tell Ginny.  Surprisingly, Ron scowled and kicked at the railings of the porch.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.  “Don’t you think it’s okay to tell them?”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Ron uneasily.  “I’m sure Fred and George will be fine.  It’s just… well, we can’t tell Percy, can we?  And it seems weird, telling everybody but him.  Scabbers was his rat, too.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.  Now he understood what was bothering Ron.  But they couldn’t tell Percy.  Percy wasn’t willing to believe them about Voldemort being back, though Harry had sought him out the previous weekend and assured him of the truth of it.  They couldn’t risk that he wouldn’t believe in Sirius’s innocence.

Ron shrugged.  “We can tell Fred and George about it tonight – if they ever come home.”  His face lightened.  “How about some Quidditch, Harry?”

*

The last few days of their summer holiday passed like lightning.  With no Apparating lessons and all their summer assignments done, each of them was free to concentrate on what was most important to him or her.  Fred and George were gone almost the entire time, and when they were home they were skirmishing with their mother.  Mrs. Weasley seemed to think they were spending all their time in pubs and such.  Though they did come in late at night rather tipsy twice, Harry suspected they were mostly doing something Mrs. Weasley would like even less – investigating and preparing for the opening of their Wizard Wheezes business after they got out of school.  They had already informed Harry, in spite of his protests, that he was a one-third owner of their business when they got it started.  This was in exchange for the thousand Galleons Triwizard Tournament prize money Harry had given them.  Though Harry had meant to give them the money free and clear, he found that the idea of being part owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes rather pleasant.

Ron’s priorities were apparently to practice Quidditch constantly and to avoid talking to Hermione while at the same time staring at her as much as possible.  Since Hermione seemed to be determined to finish the first few weeks’ worth of schoolwork as well as she could without actually having received the assignments, Ron was able to do both.  Ginny spent most of her time hovering over her new kitten (eventually named Raffles), while Harry played Quidditch whenever Ron suggested it, read Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges, and enjoyed the peace of the sultry August days.

They told Ginny, Fred, and George the story of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.  Ginny was horrified and inclined to be very upset by Scabbers’ secret identity.  Fred and George were overcome with delight at hearing that Remus Lupin was ‘Mr. Moony’ and Sirius Black was ‘Mr. Padfoot.’ 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us this when Remus was coming here every day,” said George indignantly.  “Those guys are our heroes!”

“Yeah,” said Fred,” you have to take us with you on the first Hogsmeade weekend so we can pay our respects.  And Mr. Wormtail was living right here in our house – think of all the talks we could have had with him if we’d known!”

Harry felt himself stiffen.  Ron’s face turned red.

“Stuff it, you bloody prat,” he hissed.  “Did you hear me say he was responsible for killing Harry’s parents?  What kind of idiot are you?”

“Oh, yeah, no offence, Harry,” said Fred quickly.  “What I meant was, too bad we didn’t know sooner or we could’ve squashed him into a bloody pulp.”

“Yeah,” said George.  “So Sirius Black is innocent after all?  I’d give anything to meet him!  He still did break Ron’s leg, though, right?”

“He didn’t mean to,” Hermione assured George earnestly.  George waved a tolerant hand and grinned.

“Oh, I’d never hold a little thing like that against him.”

*

Finally, it was the last night of their holiday.  Fred and George were out somewhere.  Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on the front porch for the last time, enjoying the invigorating hints of an approaching thunderstorm and watching the fairy lights flit around the front garden.  It reminded Harry of the night of the Yule Ball, when the fairies had been enchanted to decorate the Hogwarts garden, but these were wild fairies, showing their lights for their own unknowable reasons.  Perhaps they reminded Hermione of the Yule Ball too, because she was being uncharacteristically bad-tempered with Ron tonight.  Harry was used to Ron getting in moods where he would snipe at Hermione until she blew up at him, but tonight it was the other way around.

“Have you two finished your packing?” she asked, rather haughtily.

“Mmm,” Harry said vaguely (he hadn’t).

“YES!” said Ron vehemently (he hadn’t either).  Hermione tossed her head.

“You need to clean out Pigwidgeon’s cage – it’s filthy.”

“And when were you in MY room snooping around MY things?” Ron demanded.

“Your mother asked me to take up some of your and Harry’s clean clothes this afternoon, while you were out playing Quidditch.  Next time I’ll just throw them up the stairs.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.  It smells up there anyway.”

Ron didn’t answer.  Harry gaped at Hermione.  She was never this rude.  What was she so upset about, anyway?

“I got a letter from Viktor today – he’s on the national team again, of course.”  Harry leapt to his feet.  If Hermione was willing to go as far as bringing up Viktor Krum and bragging about his accomplishments, Harry didn’t want to be anywhere near the resulting explosion.  He thought quickly.

“Uhh, Ginny – ”  Ginny looked up questioningly.  “Uhh, you said you would ask your Mum to fix that tear on my jeans.  Uhh, can we do it now?”  This was a lame excuse, but neither Hermione nor Ron seemed to notice.

“Sure,” said Ginny briskly, rising from the swing where she sat with Hermione, and following Harry inside.  “Let’s go get your jeans.”  They looked at each other solemnly as they crossed the parlour to the stairs.  Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the ominous silence behind them on the porch.

“Do you know what’s going on there?” he asked.  Ginny shook her head.

“She’s been quiet and tense all day.  I suppose she’s…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”  She shook her head firmly, and refused to say anything further.

Ginny led him into Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, which Harry had never been in before.  It was large, with a couple of easy chairs near the front window, where the Weasley parents seemed to retreat in the evenings to spend time together away from their many offspring.  Mr. Weasley was reading out loud from a book, while Mrs. Weasley was bent over her knitting. 

Mrs. Weasley was delighted to repair Harry’s torn jeans.  While she was doing it, Ginny and Harry drifted to the window, which was right above the porch, and listened.  Silence.  Harry could not help wondering if Ron and Hermione would do something to acknowledge the feelings they seemed to have for each other.  Would they – kiss?  Ginny met his eyes, her own eyes wide.  She seemed to be wondering the same thing.  Then Harry heard Hermione’s voice faintly through the glass.

“He did really well on his NEWTS, too.  Viktor’s very smart and hardworking.”  The next thing Harry heard was a loud slam of the front door, followed by the sound of a pair of heavy feet pounding up five flights of stairs, and then an even louder slam of Ron’s bedroom door.  From the sound, the door bounced off the jamb, and then was slammed again and held closed.  Mrs. Weasley looked at Mr. Weasley.

“Oh dear,” she said.  Harry looked at Ginny.

“Uhh, d’you want to play a game of chess?”  Ginny nodded.

As it turned out, they couldn’t play chess, because Ron’s and Harry’s pieces were already packed, and Harry wasn’t about to go up to Ron’s room and try to get them.  They played Exploding Snap instead, neither paying very much attention to the game.  After a while, Hermione came in through the front door and scurried through the room with her head down.  From what Harry could see from the corner of his eye, she’d been crying.  She disappeared up the stairs, and Ginny’s bedroom door could be heard closing sharply.  Ginny sighed as she played her next card.  Harry gave her a commiserating look – now neither of them could go in their sleeping rooms.

Harry reflected that he felt much sorrier for Ron than he did for Hermione.  Maybe because I’m a guy, too.  But it seemed to Harry that Ron had made it more than obvious that he liked Hermione – his ridiculous jealousy of Krum and the way he constantly watched her were dead giveaways.  Fred and George clearly thought so, too.  While Hermione – Harry thought she liked Ron, too, but he really couldn’t tell from her behaviour.  She wouldn’t even let Harry tell Ron that she only wanted to be friends with Krum.  It didn’t seem fair.  As a girl, Hermione must know some way to make this easier for Ron – to let him know if she was interested.  Like smiling at him, or something…  Harry sighed.

Ginny sighed, too, and looked up at him.  “I know,” she said sadly.  “Poor Hermione – she’s tried everything, and it doesn’t –” she broke off, and clapped her hand to her mouth, looking at Harry with startled eyes.  Harry could feel that his own eyes were wide as he looked back at Ginny.  Okay – apparently it looks different from the girl side.

Mrs. Weasley came down a few minutes later to tell them it was time for bed.

“Make sure you have everything packed tonight, dear,” she said to Harry.  “I’m afraid you won’t be able to Apparate to the station, so we’ll have to leave early, as usual.”

When Harry got up to Ron’s room, he was relieved to find the door unlocked, and Ron in bed, seemingly asleep.  Harry quickly packed his few remaining things into his large school trunk and let Hedwig out for a night’s hunting.  Pigwidgeon was already out, and Harry noted interestedly that the little owl’s cage was sparkling clean. 

Harry put out the lights and stretched out luxuriously in bed, reflecting on his summer.  With Voldemort back, Harry had expected to have the worst summer ever, but in some ways, it had been his best.  Less time than usual at the Dursleys’, daily letters from Ron and Hermione while he was there, the birthday party at Mrs. Figg’s house, the Apparating lessons, seeing Sirius three times…  If only the upcoming school year could work out as well.  Somehow, though, Harry had a feeling that it wouldn’t…

*

It was rather annoying the next morning that Fred and George could Apparate to the station, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to take Floo Powder to the Leaky Cauldron and then taxis to the station.  Mr. Weasley and Percy both took the morning off to accompany them.  They were serious and alert, obviously on the lookout for Death Eaters.  Even worse, Mad-Eye Moody met them as they came out of the fireplace, ready to escort them to King’s Cross Station.  Mrs. Weasley and Mad-Eye rode with Harry and Ron (and Pigwidgeon and Hedwig), while Mr. Weasley and Percy rode with Hermione and Ginny (and Crookshanks and Raffles).  Fred and George met them at the taxi drop-off at King’s Cross, their hands rather obviously holding their wands inside their light jackets.  The twins looked surprisingly cheerful, considering that Harry had heard them return to the Burrow at around 3 AM, the same time as the thunderstorm had finally hit.

Harry wondered idly what kind of security had been around the Burrow for the past month.  Whatever it was, everyone seemed to have had great faith in it – no one had showed this level of anxiety there.  The six adult wizards – if you count Fred and George as adults – made a cordon around the four younger ones as they pushed their carts through the Station, melted through the wall to Platform 9 ¾, and boarded the train.  Ginny waved wildly to Colin Creevey further up the platform, but her mother strictly forbade her to leave her brothers until the train was out of London.

As the train pulled away, Harry stared out the window at the tense faces of Moody and the Weasleys.  Percy looked miserable, with his face thin and dark circles under his eyes.  Harry wondered if he’d had second thoughts about the truth of Voldemort’s return.  He certainly seemed to think that Harry needed protection today.

Ginny waited impatiently until the train had pulled clear of the suburbs of London, and then scurried out, holding the basket with her new kitten.  She seemed to feel that Colin Creevey and Neville Longbottom were eager to be introduced to it.  Fred and George left next.

“Come on, George, we need to catch Lee before he disappears into the Prefects’ Compartment.”  Hermione started, and jumped to her feet.

“Oh!”  She opened her trunk, and pulled out her school robes.  Ron scowled, and Harry felt annoyed too.  It hadn’t occurred to him that Hermione would no longer be sitting with them on the train, now that she was a prefect.  She disappeared out the door, pulling on her robes over her Muggle clothes as she went.  Harry saw the glint of the prefect’s badge in her right hand.

“I’ll see you on the platform,” Hermione said breathlessly as she slid the door closed.  Harry looked up and met Ron’s eyes.  He had a feeling of déjà vu.  He and Ron were alone in the compartment now, sitting in the same places they had been on their first Hogwarts Express four years ago.  Ron grinned, apparently reading Harry’s mind.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” he said.  “Are you really Harry Potter?”  Harry solemnly lifted his fringe of hair from his forehead to show his scar.

“Cor blimey,” said Ron, pretending to be awe struck.  Harry smirked.  What happened next?  Oh yeah.  Now was the time for Neville to come in, looking for his toad.  Harry looked toward the compartment door, and saw movement through the window.  It was Draco Malfoy, stopping to talk to someone behind him.  Harry could hear his voice faintly through the door.

“No, you stay in the compartment.  Goyle, you come with me -- you can wait outside the door.”

Malfoy was getting braver now, if he was willing to walk about the train with only one bodyguard.  Harry supposed Crabbe was being left in the compartment to guard Malfoy’s valuable luggage.  Harry smirked.  Malfoy had reason to be concerned.  The last time he’d been on this train, he’d been hexed, and good!  Harry and Ron left their seats and looked out the compartment door at Malfoy and Goyle heading toward the front of the train.

“Uhh, maybe we should go up there and make sure everything’s okay with Hermione.”  Ron made this suggestion tentatively, scratching his nose nervously.  Harry considered.  On the one hand, it was mad to think that anything could happen to her in a Prefects’ Meeting, for goodness sake.  On the other hand, there were children of known Death Eaters on this train (two of whom had just passed up the corridor), and Hermione was a prominent Muggle-born student who had been targeted once already. 

“Yeah, let’s go check it out,” Harry said.

It was interesting walking the length of the train and glancing in all the compartments as they passed.  The Weasley twins were in a compartment with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, apparently sharing Adventures in Apparating.  From the snatch of conversation Harry could hear as they passed, it sounded like Alicia had taken her test that summer as well.  Ginny was in a very loud compartment, with not only Colin Creevey and Neville Longbottom, but also Dennis Creevey and the three other Gryffindor girls from Ginny’s year.  What are their names again?  I know they all start with ‘S.’  Something like Susannah, Sandra, and Stephanie – silly gigglers anyway.  Harry paused to watch Raffles stalking Trevor the toad, and then ducked his head instinctively as Colin Creevey’s eyes turned toward the door – it had been second nature for Harry to avoid Colin ever since the silly fuss he had made over Harry during Colin’s first year.  Colin was a lot calmer now, but he still took far more pictures of Harry than Harry thought was necessary.

Malfoy had already disappeared into the Prefects’ Compartment when they got to the front of the train, and Goyle was slumped uncomfortably against the wall across from the door.  As they watched, Sarah Fawcett, the new Head Girl from Ravenclaw, came out of the compartment, spoke to Goyle, and gestured back down the corridor.  Obediently, Goyle shuffled off a dozen feet and then halted uncertainly, resting against the wall again.  Apparently, Miss Fawcett didn’t want the secret deliberations of the almighty prefects overheard.

Harry caught Goyle’s eye and glared at him coldly as he followed Ron past him.  Second-generation thug.  Goyle swivelled his head and watched them suspiciously.  There was no reason they couldn’t walk past the two Prefects’ Compartments.  The refreshment witch’s stand was in front of them, as well as a loo.  Harry looked through the window curiously as he passed.  Sarah Fawcett was talking with her back to the door, saying something about passwords.  Hermione was sitting in the middle of the back-facing row of seats, next to Terry Boot.  Harry caught a brief glimpse of Malfoy’s silver-blonde hair on the opposite side as he passed.  The next compartment was full of more relaxed prefects.  Harry saw Lee Jordan and heard Angelina Johnson’s deep laugh.  It seemed the old prefects were socializing in one compartment, while the newly named prefects were indoctrinated into their duties in the other.

Ron and Harry stopped in front of the refreshment stand and bought a few sweets, then lounged against the wall eyeing Goyle and eating. 

“Are you ready for another term, dears?” asked the refreshment witch.  She was starting to pile her stock onto her trolley for a trip down the aisle.

“Never ready to go back to school,” said Ron with a cheeky smile.  “Here, would you like some help with that?”

“Oh, no need for that,” said the witch.  “Or rather, well, would you mind lifting those two boxes down for me?”  She pointed to two boxes of pies on the high luggage shelf.  Ron easily handed them down to her.  She beamed at him.

“Have to carry extra stock, don’t I, with all the Hogwarts professors and Ministry law enforcement blokes on the train?”  She finished packing up her trolley and dusted off her hands.  “They do eat.”  Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“Uhh, where are they?” asked Harry.  “We didn’t see any professors or MLE people.”

“Oh, they’re in the back,” said the witch comfortably.  “Supposed to be patrolling in case of trouble, but I don’t blame them for relaxing instead.  All this nonsense about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named coming back.  I certainly haven’t seen any signs of it.”

Harry scowled, but the witch was pushing her trolley off and didn’t notice.  Just then, Professors McGonagall and Sprout came through the door into the carriage.  Professor McGonagall advanced on Goyle, who had crept slowly back until he was just outside the Prefects’ Compartment again.

“Mr. Goyle,” she said sharply, “it is hardly possible to separate you from Mr. Malfoy, even when he is summoned to a prefects’ meeting and you are not.  But in this case I really must insist – return to your seat immediately.”  She tapped her foot on the floor as Goyle reluctantly left, then swung around to face Ron and Harry.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, what is your business here?”

“They’ve been giving me a hand, luv,” said the refreshment witch.

Professor McGonagall blinked indignantly at being called “luv,” but she waved Harry and Ron back to their carriage without a reprimand.

“I s’pose it’s all right, if the teachers are going to be patrolling,” muttered Ron to Harry, shrugging.  They made their way back to their compartment, passing several more Hogwarts professors on the way.  A little while later, Hermione returned, rather hurried and flushed.  She dropped down on the seat by Crookshanks, waving her hand in front of her face.

“Whew,” she said.  “I ran back to tell you – did you see how the professors are patrolling the corridors?”  Harry and Ron nodded, motioning her to continue.

“Well, do you know why?  Apparently, there was a very nasty incident on the Hogwarts Express last spring – three students got very badly hexed, and their parents have complained to the Board of Governors.  It’s our responsibility as prefects to see that nothing like that happens again.”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, marvelling at Hermione’s ability to sound indignant about this bad behaviour when she’d been one of the people doing the hexing.

“Did they say who got hexed?” asked Harry curiously.

“Do they know who did it?” asked Ron, more anxiously.

“No, and no,” said Hermione.  “I imagine most everyone had to step over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle on their way out, though.  They were right out there in the corridor.”

“But didn’t those three tell who did it?” asked Harry.

“Apparently they don’t remember!” said Hermione, with a self-satisfied smile.  “One of the hexes must have included Forgetfulness.”  She frowned.  “I can’t imagine they wouldn’t be able to work it out, though.”

Harry nodded.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Malfoy knew, and was pretending not to.  He recalled that when Malfoy had seen the dragon, Norbert, hatching in Hagrid’s hut, he hadn’t told anyone for rather a long time, preferring to hold his knowledge over their heads, and taunt them.

There was a knock at their compartment door, and Professor Anne Weasley put her bright head in the opening.

“Hello, Ron,” she said smiling.  “Would you three mind a couple of visitors?”  When they said they wouldn’t mind, she gestured down the corridor and a tall man suddenly appeared.  She ushered him through the door.

“I believe you’ve met Hermione Granger, already,” she said.  “This is Harry Potter, who received the note, and this is Ron Weasley, who was also at the party.”  She pointed to them as she spoke.  “Kids, this is Inspector Parker, the head of my Department.  He is here to ask you a few questions about the Granger arson case.”

Inspector Parker was balding and tired-looking, but with very keen dark eyes.  He shook heads with each of them in turn and asked permission to sit down.  Professor Weasley remained standing by the door, looking alertly out into the corridor.  Mr. Parker looked at Ron.

“Arthur Weasley’s son, right?”  Ron nodded, and Mr. Parker turned to Hermione.  “Miss Granger, I wish we could tell you we’ve solved the case, but we haven’t.  We’ve received a credible tip as to who the perpetrators were, and our investigation tends to confirm it.  Unfortunately, we haven’t found any proof.”

Harry saw that Hermione was trying to look surprised at this news, but Mr. Parker narrowed his eyes.

“I see this isn’t new to you, Miss Granger.  I would’ve thought Mad-Eye would be more discreet.”  He cleared his throat and frowned heavily at the three of them.  “At any rate, you should know that Special Protection Zones have been set up around the homes of all three of the suspects.  We will not tolerate any form of private vendetta.”

Hermione really did look surprised now.  Harry tried to imagine Hermione burning down Crabbe’s and Goyle’s and Avery’s houses in revenge for her own.  Did Inspector Parker really think she would do that?  Harry smiled to himself.  And if she did, did he really think a Special Protection Zone could stop her?

“I wouldn’t do something like that, sir,” Hermione said earnestly.  Inspector Parker nodded his head and drew out a package wrapped in cloth, which he unfolded on the seat beside Harry.  Harry recognized it as the note and envelope that had been sent to him at Mrs. Figg’s house.

“This is the note you received, Mr. Potter.  Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you recognize the handwriting?”

“No.”  Harry peered at the writing more closely.  The note and envelope were both in the same hand.  Written in angular capitals, they looked like someone trying to disguise their handwriting.

“You see it is addressed to you at Mrs. Figg’s house, in the kitchen.  Is that where you were?”

“Yes.”

“Did it come to you there?”

“No, it was pushed through the letter slot into the entry hall.”  Mr. Parker nodded, as if this agreed with what the other witnesses had told him.  He leaned forward.

“Who knew you were at the party?  Was it planned much in advance?”

“Only the people there.  I got the invitation only a few hours before.  I didn’t tell my aunt where I was going, but I left a note for her in the garage where I was working.  Mr. Weasley had left by the time this note came, and Professor Dumbledore had talked to us by fire.  And, um, Mr. Lupin had just come back from a walk around the block.  He was the one who found the note.”

“And you two, do you know of anyone else who knew Harry would be at the party?”  Mr. Parker turned to Ron and Hermione.  Hermione shook her head.

“Just my Mum and Dad and me.  We were all there.  Oh, and Professor McGonagall.  She knew about it, but she didn’t attend.”

“My whole family knew,” said Ron.  “Except for Bill and Charlie.  My brothers Fred and George and my sister Ginny knew about it, and they might have mentioned it to the Jordans, the family they were visiting.  Ginny almost decided to stay and go to the party rather than visit the Jordans.  And, um, Percy knew – my brother Percy, who works at the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Harry noticed that Professor Weasley had paused in her survey of the corridor and was looking at Ron.  When she caught Harry’s eye, she quickly turned back to her task.  Inspector Parker wrote down all the names, and then looked at Hermione.

“And now, Miss Granger, have you received any threats, either before or after the incident?”

“I told you before about Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said, looking the Inspector in the eye.

“Anything today?” he asked.  She shook her head.  “Have either Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle ever made a threat against you?”

“I’ve never heard either of them say anything,” said Hermione sharply.  “But they’re always standing beside Malfoy when he says things.”

Harry became aware that Ron was looking at him significantly.

“What?” he whispered irritably.  Ron rolled his eyes and turned to the inspector.

“Inspector Parker?” he said.  “Malfoy said something to us two days after the fire.”  The inspector looked interested and poised his quill over his pad.  “We ran into him in Madam Malkin’s Robe Shop, and he said” – Ron looked at Harry for assistance – “what was it exactly?  Oh yeah, he said ‘Aren’t you missing someone?  Where’s the Third Musketeer?  Or does she have another fire to put out?’”

Inspector Parker wrote down Ron’s evidence and then stood, closing his pad with a snap.  He looked at them with a heavy frown.

“Clearly the three of you believe that the Malfoy family had something to do with this crime.  I can’t say you’re wrong.  Mr. Lucius Malfoy has an excellent alibi for the time the arson took place, but obviously he could have given the instructions.  I will say that you don’t have any evidence, though, and my Department is determined not to allow the old practice of Wizard Vendettas to start up again.  Not that Lucius Malfoy needs our protection – he has plenty of defences set up himself – and I wouldn’t advise you three kids to take them on.”  He turned to go, but Harry stood to stop him.

“Inspector?” said Harry.  Mr. Parker turned to him questioningly.  Harry stumbled over the words, but got them out.  “Sir, do you know about Voldemort?  Coming back, I mean?  I think all this has to do with him.”

Inspector Parker stared at Harry without saying anything.  Harry stared back.  Finally Mr. Parker spoke.

“I’ve heard the reports,” he said, and swung out of the compartment.  Professor Weasley rolled her eyes and gave them a quick smile as she turned to follow him.

“Bye, Annie,” Ron said quickly.

“Bye,” said Ron’s cousin, raising her brows.  “And that’ll be Professor Weasley to you as soon as we get to school, young man.”

After the door closed, Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.  “Well, he seems competent enough.”

“Competent enough to tell us they can’t prove it was Lucius Malfoy,” scowled Ron, slumping in his seat, “and there’s nothing we can do but just lump it.”

“Well, he’s right, isn’t he?” said Hermione firmly.  “I’m sure Malfoy Manor is very well-defended, and we’d be insane to try to take on Lucius Malfoy ourselves.  Right, Harry?”

“Not completely,” said Harry slowly.  Hermione looked back at him with shocked disapproval and Ron sat up straighter, looking pleased.  “He does have one weak point that we can easily get to.”

“What?” asked Hermione challengingly.  Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Ron beat him to it.

“His son, Draco,” said Ron.

*  *  *

Next Chapter: Back to School

In which Harry’s “fifth year from Hell” finally begins, but nothing has gone wrong yet – or has it? 

Note to Dean and Seamus:  I would have hoped for more mature behavior from you two!