The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 23 - Bad Sunday

Hogwarts,

The Sunday morning breakfast was always a more drawn out affair than on the other days of the week. The tables were served until ten, instead of the usual eight thirty. Many students took the opportunity to have a cozy lie-in, while others appreciated the opportunity of taking their time, and maybe even getting double helpings.

Despite this, Harry woke up at his customary time. He threw a glance at Ron's bed and proceeded with the well established ritual of waking the other boy for their morning run. Ron was all for sports and exercises, even more so these days than before, but it hadn't turned him into an early riser, especially when he had spent the previous evening with Luna. It was always a little show to watch him stumble along from his bed to the bathroom, and from there, get on to the tricky task of dressing up without forgetting a crucial item of clothing.

The school corridors were chilly and damp, as befitted a medieval castle in winter, but that was nothing compared to the blast of cold air which struck at them as they came out into the grounds. They started to jog immediately; it was a good way to get warm after all. They usually did several laps around the lake, three when the weather was warm, but never more than two at this time of the year. After the first one, Harry called out for a breather.

"Can we just walk a second," he asked.

Ron showed surprise. Harry wasn't panting that badly, and he normally showed excellent endurance, so it wasn't just a question of taking it easy. A look at his friend's face made him guess that it had more to do with a desire to talk.

"Sure," he replied.

He started to breath deeply and executed some stretching moves. Harry did the same, and they walked silently for a moment until they had caught their breath.

"I want to talk to you about Hermione," he began.

Ron nodded noncommittally and waited for him to continue. He had also been thinking about their situation these past days, as well as talking about it with Luna, or rather; Luna had talked to him about it. They had come to the conclusion that things were complicated enough without he and Hermione cold shouldering each other. He was ready to make up, and Harry was the best one to act as go between, but several things had to be set right first.

"Don't read too much into what she said," continued Harry. "She's got other things bothering her, and that explains part of her attitude."

Ron wanted to get one thing clear first.

"And how do you feel about what I want to do," he said. "I mean about Quidditch and Comil and all that." If the deal doesn't fall out because of those bloody Goblins.

Harry's expression was open and frank.

"I think it's a good thing," he said. "You've found something that you like and that you are pretty good at. I say go for it, mate."

"You're real sure about that?"

"I am."

"Good," replied Ron with a wry expression of relief. "Thanks."

"Listen Ron," continued Harry. "I'll talk to her, and I'm pretty sure that I can get her to see it this way too. All I ask is that you go half way."

Ron pondered this. His pride was the only thing which seemed to stand in front of reconciliation. He saw a pebble on the ground before them and kicked it. It went over the grass and fell into the lake. They looked at the ripples for a moment.

"Tell you what. You get her to do that, and then I'll apologize for what I said, and afterward we hug each other like a pair of stupid idiots," he said grinning, but not looking at Harry directly.

"That sounds fun. I'm on," replied Harry with a grin of his own.

The two boys looked at each other, slightly embarrassed by the exchange. The whole thing was childish when they looked at it.

"I'm going to organize some preliminary tryouts this morning," said Ron, changing the subject. "Sniffing out talent for the next year team. You want to come and watch?" he asked.

"Sounds good."

"Okay then. Let's finish this and get back to the school and some breakfast."

- - -

Electra's home,

Trevor woke up in a strange bed with a big happy smile on his face.

What a night!

The previous day had been one of the most memorable of his life. After meeting Draco and Ginny, he had returned to give Lord Shrummer their precious token of support. Electra had been there as well, and Trevor had felt ridiculously proud for what he had managed.

"Even better than we hoped," had boomed Shrummer. "Well done my boy. With this in hand, they won't stand a chance tonight."

"Well done indeed," had murmured Electra with a slight smile. "But I had no doubts about your charms."

Since she couldn't be a witness at the Wizengamot session, she had given him a memory crystal and asked him to join her afterwards, so that he could give his report verbatim. The burning look in her eyes had carried the promise of more than just that.

He had followed the proceedings of the court, up to the dramatic final and the decisive victory for their side. Afterwards he had recovered the Apparation coordinates inside the crystal to get to this place, which looked to be her home. For the second time that day, he had been the bearer of positive news, basking in the glory of their success. And then politics had taken second place to another passion.

He shook his head in memory. He had never met a woman like Electra. All his previous encounters paled in comparison. He still didn't know what her role actually was. They had talked a little. She seemed to consider Shrummer's new position as a secondary thing. He thought that if her ambitions were higher than the Ministry of Magic, then she was surely a leader to follow, and she certainly had things to offer that Shrummer couldn't match.

He looked at the window and considered the bright morning light of the winter sun. He didn't know where they were, but it obviously wasn't England. The view was that of a mountainous landscape, the ground and trees were covered with snow. He tried to guess what country it could be. Electra spoke with a very faint accent which suggested central Europe. These mountains could be the Alps. He would have to ask.

"Slept well?" asked a feminine voice. He turned to see her coming back into to room. She was wearing a loose fitting robe and a teasing expression.

"Did we sleep at all?" he answered. "I don't remember."

She chuckled and came closer to the bed. He felt his heart beating faster. Her eyes fixed on his, and her hand reached out. Even in the morning, she was something to watch with awe.

"Once again," she asked. Alarm showed on his face.

Merlin! Does she ever need rest?

He certainly did, and he didn't consider himself to be below average in that department. His spirit was certainly willing. Actually at that point, there was nothing he wouldn't attempt for her, but failure would be embarrassing.

"Not that!" she said, laughing at his expression. Her fingers caressed his temple and shivers ran through him. "Show me his face again."

She wanted him to replay the memory of Dumbledore's defeat when Shrummer had produced the note and turned the vote around. He was amazed at the things she could do. With a touch of her hand, she could use him as a living pensieve.

He recalled the scene for her. Her talent made him see it as sharply as normal vision. He could sense her excitement and delight at the old man's surprise and pain. She had already watched this three times last night, and now once again this morning. He wondered if she was going to keep him around for that purpose more than anything else.

What has the man done to her to elicit such hatred?

To him, Dumbledore had never been more than a distant and generally inoffensive Headmaster. Likewise in the Wizengamot, he had never seen him act so forcibly as to make enemies. He never even raised his voice in session. Trevor knew that he was considered the most powerful wizard of the age, but few had ever testified to seeing this demonstrated.

His thoughts were interrupted when she crushed his mouth with hers. They fell back on the bed, her body moving over his, and then he found out that he wasn't so tired after all. His right hand came around her back and sought the fastening of her robe. She laughed again and broke easily away. As he had already found out, she had the strength and the muscles of a fighter.

"That will have to wait, my young friend," she said. She kissed him again and then pushed him back playfully, her hands lingering just long enough against his chest to let him know that it was only a reprieve.

"Must you go now?" he asked.

"Just for a little while," she said. "Something to finish." She stood up and her eyes were gleaming. "A final touch of the brush, you might say," she added mysteriously, before Disapparating silently. The absence of the usual cracking sound was another display of her abilities.

- - -

Hogwarts,

Draco had come down for breakfast a little later than usual. As he entered the hall, he crossed a cheerful Ron coming out with half a roll in his mouth, and mumbling something about Quidditch tryouts. He had evidently been eating with Ginny who was seated alone at the Gryffindor table. Draco wished him luck and went toward her. As he came closer, he couldn't help but notice that she looked tense and tired.

"Hi there, Looks like you didn't sleep well." he remarked.

"Not really," she replied, giving him an absent minded kiss. "I stayed awake for hours, and then I had this horrible nightmare."

He gave her a look of sympathy and reached out for the coffee pot.

"Worried about something?"

She nodded weakly. She was worried about many things actually. Last night's meeting, how her father was holding up at the Ministry, what was the matter with Hermione, the tension among the six of them, Trevor's visit and finally that note they had signed. There were so many things troubling her that it was really ridiculous, and she didn't want to talk about it. They had discussed all this before, and Draco had dismissed it all as temporarily problems which would find their eventual solutions.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just worrying for nothing.

But it did feel like the oppressive calm before a storm.

Maybe.

"Hi there!"

They turned to see Harry and Hermione coming down. He was smiling and she looked more relaxed this morning.

"Hi," replied Draco. Ginny felt a constriction in her throat and just tried to force a smile.

"Hey Gin, are you all right?" asked Harry with concern. The girl was so pale, that he was ready to suggest that she go and see Madam Pomfrey right away, but Ginny didn't answer. The sense of impending doom was getting stronger.

I hope I'm just sick, and not prescient or anything.

They started to eat. Ginny had poured herself a cup of tea, but it was lying untouched before her. She wasn't really nauseous or anything, but food seemed the least important thing right now.

"Did the owl mail arrive yet?" asked Hermione. She didn't expect much from the Sunday edition of the Prophet but maybe something had happened concerning the Goblins.

"No," replied Draco. "Maybe they're having a lie-in like everybody else." He grinned. Since Ginny hadn't gotten another private owl from Trevor, there was probably nothing urgent to report.

They continued to eat. Harry and Draco exchanged pleasantries. A short time later, the owls came flying into the hall, dropping their loads in front of the waiting students.

"Ah!" said Hermione, raising her hands to catch the falling magazine. "Just in time for my second cup. Harry? Can you pour me another one?"

He obliged while she broke the seal and scanned the first page.

"New Minister of Magic Chosen by the Wizengamot"

An exclusive by Rita Skeeters.

"I didn't know they had scheduled a meeting yesterday," mused Hermione. She looked at Draco with a questioning expression, and he suddenly felt a cold chill along his spine.

"Er, well why not?" he said with some embarrassment. Something is wrong. I don't know what, but something is very wrong.

Hermione began reading, and she immediately started to frown. A sudden tension rose among them. They could all feel it, like an unseen monster coming in from the darkness. She looked up for a moment. They were all staring at her. No one said anything, but was as if they had suddenly become conscious that something momentous was waiting to happen. Her eyes falling back on the article, Hermione read on quickly. The others couldn't see what was written, and they didn't dare come closer and look over her shoulder. Rita Skeeters had written this one like a novel, milking the suspense and saving it for the end. She described the sober atmosphere of the court room, the dramatic plea of Helen Parker and of Amelia Bones...

Hermione stopped breathing as she read the paragraph detailing Lord Shrummer's victorious counter-attack. The words were in her mind, their meaning clear on a literal level, but the full comprehension seemed impossible.

There must be a mistake. They can't have done this!

She dropped the paper and looked Draco straight in the eye.

"Is it true? Did you do this?"

Draco swallowed. The sense of doom was still there, augmented by his ignorance.

"What am I supposed to have done?" he snapped with annoyance.

"It says there was a note from the Six Founders. Your friend Shrummer produced it. Did you write it?"

Draco frowned and showed a look of injured innocence. The note didn't mean anything, and if it had helped Shrummer get elected, that was a fine thing. What is she fretting about?

Her eyes crossed over to Ginny's, and she saw the guilt and the fear on her face. The younger girl flinched under her friend's stare, and when she threw an involuntary glance at Draco Hermione had everything she needed.

"YOU TRAITOROUS PIECE OF SHIT!" she screamed. She stood up and pointed her finger at him. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID?"

"Hermione-" started Draco. He was really trying to be reasonable, but the girl was beyond reason.

"YOUR FRIENDS SKEWERED THE ASSOCIATION! AND ARTHUR WEASLEY AS WELL!" she shouted, beside herself with fury. Draco's eyes opened wide as he finally put together what she must be talking about. Ginny looked horrified. Hermione took a deep breath to control herself.

"You two are the most disgusting people I ever saw," she said in a voice full of spite.

She took the newspaper and threw it down on the table, upsetting Ginny's untouched cup of tea. The cold liquid splashed her robe and Draco's. Ginny didn't move. She turned a pleading face toward Hermione, but the other girl didn't even give her a chance to speak. Her face was a mask of anger and injury. Part of her wanted to rage at them, but another one was so disgusted that the less she stayed here the better.

She pushed away her chair and made to turn away. She hesitated, turned back and looked Draco straight in the eye.

"This is really a grand start in your chosen career, Draco Malfoy" she said with infinite loathing. "It would have made your father proud."

He took the insult like a knife in the gut. He blanched but didn't say anything as Hermione stomped away. Ginny gasped at the accusation, she looked ready to break into sobs until Draco's hand covered hers. We didn't do anything wrong, he told her. I don't know what happened, but she's got no right to accuse us. Harry reached out to take the dripping wet magazine from the table. He decided that he would read the article before saying anything. I could guess some of what had happened, but getting the full story could be important.

An eerie silence followed while he scanned through the pages. Draco and Ginny watched him like an accused might consider a jury discussing the case. They were recovering from the initial shock, and a look of self-righteousness now hardened Draco's features, but when Harry looked up, his face was as hard as his. There was not much aside from that article, but it was pretty much damming nonetheless.

They killed her dream, and Ginny pulled the vote against her father. How could they have done such a thing?

"Why?" he asked simply.

Impatience flashed in Draco's eyes. He didn't answer and reached out to take the paper roughly from Harry's hand. He and Ginny read it quickly, skipping over the details they already knew. When he was finished, Draco finally understood why Hermione had reacted that way.

Damn it, what a bloody mess.

"Shrummer asked for our help," he said quickly. "To secure his position against a coalition who wanted to cave in to the Goblins' demands. We knew nothing of this business with FOM, or of what Ginny's father was planning. This is all the Headmaster's fault."

Harry will understand that Dumbledore and Bones played a stupid game, and that Arthur got drawn into it.

He was still holding Ginny's hand, and he could sense that she accepted his argument, although there was something else in her mental aura. He ignored it for the moment and concentrated on convincing Harry.

In the light of this new development, Harry reviewed all that he and Hermione had discussed. Everything fitted perfectly. Bones had been deprived of Hermione's support, while Dumbledore had let Draco help her enemy. He felt a cold anger and a terrible sense of betrayal.

"How can you expect me to believe you?" he said coldly.

Surprise and righteous anger showed in Draco's eyes. He could understand Hermione's attitude, but Harry was his friend. He had never doubted that, and he was counting on it. He couldn't understand this.

"Harry I swear-"

"Save your breath," interrupted the other boy. He stood up, turned away and walked off, without throwing a single look backward.

Draco watched him go away with a sinking sensation. He could feel Ginny's trembling hand in his, and he heard the rising noise level in the hall as more students received the news and discussed it. Already angry shouts could be heard, as individuals took stands on the issue.

A little voice in his mind told him that he had to do something quickly, such as arguing and defending their action. He would find some support among the students. He had no doubts of that, and he still believed that Trevor and Shrummer were fighting for the right cause. What had happened didn't change his mind. He and Ginny had chosen sides in a political battle. He had expected to pay for it with heated arguments with his friends. He hadn't expected to lose them over it.

And certainly not like that.

- - -

Harry had gone off to find Hermione. The Marauder's Map placed her in the library and so he went there, hoping she wouldn't be a mental wreck like the last time. Surprisingly, she was working. He found her scowling as she was carefully re-reading the Prophet's edition, and checking facts in a book about the statutes of the Wizengamot.

"Mione? You okay?"

She looked up and managed to scowl even harder.

"Er, Sorry," he added. "Of course not. Stupid question, I know." He tried a weak smile.

She sighed and dropped the book. She moved her hand forward on the table and he took it.

"It's okay Harry," she replied tiredly. "I'm mad as hell, but not at you."

"I guess you were right about everything," he said sadly. "What can we do?"

The frown returned on her face. She rearranged the books in front of her. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table surface. Her face was screwed in concentration.

"Well, I really don't know," she confessed. "We're pretty much locked up here, and we certainly can't trust anybody anymore." She considered her notes. "I want to check a couple of things, and then we can meet at Hagrid's later." She looked up. "Why don't you join Ron right now? Tell him that I take back what I said. He may be crazy about Quidditch, but it looks like he's the sanest person around compared with the rest of this."

"You're sure about it?" asked Harry. "I mean, I could stay here with you."

She shook her head and confirmed that she wanted to finish her work. Harry had known Hermione long enough to know that this kind of thing was a relaxant for her, however strange it seemed to him. They exchanged a quick kiss and he moved away. He visited the dormitory to recover some warm clothes and his broom, and then he descended to the main entrance and from there on to the Quidditch practice. He couldn't help smiling as he heard the first shouts coming from the players.

Hermione's right. Ron's got the right perspective.

He was also extremely relieved that both his friends seemed ready to let bygones be bygones about their past row. He still didn't know if he was ever going to forgive Draco and Ginny, and that would hurt badly enough, but least Ron, good old Ron, would be back at his side like he always had been.

Harry didn't see the magpie watching his approach from one of the spectator stands, and he couldn't know that he was expected. Electra had been ready to influence one of the smaller students to go and get him, but now her last target was finally coming in like the good boy she knew him to be. All the elements were in place, and she was going to put the final touch on her masterpiece.

Ron had gathered all of the first through third year students who wanted a chance to play on the team next year. There would be at least three players leaving, including both Beaters, and the loss of experience would make a glaring gap in his troops. Tryouts were normally made at the start of the year, but Ron had decided to anticipate some talent screening now. The idea being that the more hopeful applicants would have the rest of the year, and all summer, to practice, and thus would be better prepared for the official tryouts. They had been going at it for half an hour now. Ron, with some of the more experienced players, had made the kids display how good, or bad they were at flying.

As Harry arrived, his friend and Kirke were arguing furiously about something.

"Damn it Andrew!" said Ron. "That was the weakest shot I ever saw. Do you even remember how to hit a Bludger?"

"Don't tell me how to play," retorted Kirke. "This isn't a match, and those kids are doing this for the first time. I'm just giving them a decent chance."

It sounded reasonable enough to Harry, but Ron was really incensed. He took the bat from Kirke's and impatiently motioned to another student make his pass. The next one was a third year old named Isaac Tobin. He was seated more or less firmly on his broom, grasping the handle in his left hand, and holding the bat in his other.

"Right," said Ron "Same play. You fly in front of me, I throw the Bludger, and you hit it. Don't even try to aim at anything. Just hit it. Nothing simpler. Ready?"

The boy looked a little unsure, but he nodded and flew toward the starting position.

"Go!" said Ron.

The boy made his pass and Ron smashed the Bludger. A little roughly, thought Harry. Isaac managed to make the bat connect, not really squarely, but it was a hit nonetheless.

"Good!" said Ron. He gestured to Kirke to recover the Bludger. "Next one now."

A couple more went, and Harry thought that Ron was really overdoing the testing. Some of the kids were terrified and performed badly. Ron was yelling at them and becoming very excited. This could be dangerous.

"Ron..." started Harry. He didn't want to play back seat captain, or to embarrass his friend, but Ron really needed to go easier.

"I know what I'm doing!" barked Ron. "NEXT!"

The next one to fly was Alicia Parker. Most of the students were obviously put off by the hard play, but she was anything but afraid. She called out a shout of challenge and rushed forward.

"That's the spirit for Gryffindor!" approved Ron. "Get ready for it. Now!"

He struck the Bludger smartly and Harry saw it fly toward for her. It was going very fast, and he immediately saw that Ron had put a nasty spin on it. Instead of flying straight, it rose fast and then came down hard. Alicia had been ready to deflect it with a standard horizontal move, but she suddenly realized that it wasn't possible anymore. And then she panicked and banked sharply, to put her broom between herself and the incoming missile. It was a very dangerous move, and Harry yelled a warning and moved toward her.

It was much too late. The Bludger stuck the broom handle and, since it was an old and tired training model, it broke in half under the impact. This wouldn't have mattered much except that her last move had pointed her at the ground. She hit hard and immediately screamed.

Everyone rushed toward the spot. Harry got there first and the first thing he saw was blood. A great deal of blood. His eyes opened in horror as he realized that the broom handle had split along its length to form a long shard, and that it had penetrated beneath her arm and into her chest. The girl was screaming in pain and panic.

"GET MADAM POMFREY! QUICKLY!" yelled Harry. He knelt next to Alicia, but there was nothing that he dared to do. Pulling out the shard might well do even more harm than letting it there. The only thing he felt was possible was to cut the greater length of the handle. He did this with a quick Diffido. He then tried to keep her from thrashing around and making the damage worse.

"HARRY! IT HURTS!" she screamed. Her eyes were lost in pain and fear and he winced at his helplessness.

"Calm down! Calm d-" he said. He had to swallow a terrible lump blocking his throat before he could speak clearly "Alicia. You've got to stay still and hold on. I know it hurts but don't move. Help is coming."

He held the arm on the wounded side above her body, and pressed his hand against her neck with the other. She gripped him with her free hand.

"Harry!" she chocked. Her teeth were chattering, and some blood flowed from her mouth. She was trying to be brave, to be a true Gryffindor, even though she was just a little girl gravely wounded and in awful pain.

Harry talked back to her, saying whatever passed through his mind. He wasn't thinking very clearly. The thought that she could die, right before his eyes, was unbearable. What was the nurse doing? They should have a portkey to the infirmary for that kind of accident. What in hell was Ron thinking? Throwing a Bludger like that. The whole world was going mad today.

Madam Pomfrey finally arrived. She pushed Harry aside and immediately cast an anesthetic charm on Alicia.

"Somnus Sine Dolere!"

The girl mercifully lost consciousness. The nurse examined the wound and tututted while shaking her head.

"You can save her Poppy?" asked Harry, using the nurse's nickname without thinking. He couldn't take his eyes away from Alicia. The nurse didn't reply immediately. She could see that the fractured broom handle had been driven deep inside the girl's body at an awkward angle. It was actually just under the ribs, and the tip might not be far from the heart. Moving her in these circumstances was out of the question.

"We must remove this first," she said. "I will try something to help us pull it out. Mister Kirke, you will hold the girl. Grab her upper arms and keep her steady. Mister Potter, take that handle. When I say so, you will pull it out, along its length. Do you understand?"

They indicated that they did. Neither of them saw a terribly anxious Ron, wringing his hands and standing behind them.

"The spell will distend the tissues and bones so that you can do this easily," continued the nurse. "I cannot apply it for long without serious damage, so you will need to move fast. Are you ready?"

Harry was white faced and unable to speak. He just nodded and hoped it wouldn't be too ghastly to watch. Kirke took his position and Madam Pomfrey moved her wand in a complicated wave over the girl's body.

"Diducere Costum Pulmo!" she murmured.

A horrible rending sound was heard, like a butcher disarticulating a lump of meat. Harry knew that he was going to be sick. He would just try to have it happen later rather than right now.

"Now! Mister Potter," she snapped.

She was still holding her wand over Alicia's chest. Harry tried not to think about what was happening to his friend. Tears were running down his face, but he slowly pulled the wooden stake out of her body. It made an awful slurping sound, and a great deal of blood flowed out. The nurse mumbled another incantation Vulmeris Glutinato! and the blood stopped.

"Good, good," she said as Harry continued the grisly work. Kirke's face was green and he finally closed his eyes. Harry gritted his teeth and kept pulling at the impossibly long shard. It didn't seem possible that something so long could be driven into a person without killing it.

And then it was over. Harry looked in disbelief at the gory stake in his hands. Madam Pomfrey ended her spell Erijere Restituere Textus! and another terrible squashy noise came out from poor Alicia's body. Harry rolled over and threw up on the grass.

"All right," said the nurse grimly. "I will carry her to the infirmary. Well done both of you."

She barely gave Harry's prone form a quick glance. She didn't doubt he would pull through. The boy was indestructible, and she was well placed to know it. She occupied herself with checking Alicia's opened wound.

"Glutinato!"

She checked it again, frowned and repeated the spell. She suddenly seemed to take a decision and levitated the girl and make quickly for the infirmary.

"All right! What exactly happened here?" spat the angry voice of professor McGonagall.

Harry wiped his mouth of bile and looked up at her, and then at Alicia and the nurse moving away. He was worried. She cast that spell twice, and she didn't say she'd be safe. He heard Kirke give a succinct description of the preceding events. Several of the students were adding details to the story. Kirke was gesturing angrily toward Ron, who was protesting no less violently.

"He was throwing those Bludgers much too hard," insisted Kirke. "I and Harry told him so, but he wouldn't listen."

"I was not!" exclaimed Ron. "It was just an exercise."

"And then he threw a vertical curve ball at Alicia!" accused Kirke.

"THAT'S A LIE!" screamed Ron.

"NO IT'S NOT!" screamed back Kirke. "We all saw it. It was the nastiest toss I ever saw, and you threw it at a first year!"

McGonagall turned a severe face at Ron.

"Mister Weasley, did you throw a curve ball at Miss Parker?" she asked.

"I did not!" shot back Ron. He was very agitated, shuffling from one foot to the other. His hands trembled, and his eyes were darting from one person to the next. He looked at Harry who was still on the ground.

"Harry! Tell them what happened!"

Harry looked at his friend. The image of Alicia's bleeding side was in his mind and he couldn't shake it out. Why doesn't Ron just come clean? We all saw it.

McGonagall turned toward Harry.

"Mister Potter, what did you see? Was it a curve ball?"

Ron was staring at him, the very picture of accused and desperate innocence. He evidently expected Harry to explain that it was all a mistake, that Ron had not done anything dangerous. Harry looked back and couldn't understand why his friend would ask him to lie about such a grave matter. Ron was usually an honest guy. Alicia almost died.

"Ron," said Harry. "You made a terrible mistake. Why don't you admit it?"

Stupefied outrage showed on Ron's face. Either he was a superb actor, or he was deranged enough to delude himself.

"Mister Potter," said McGonagall. "Answer the question please."

"It was," said Harry. "It was a curve ball, and a fast one. Ron, don't do this to yourself."

"LIAR!" screamed Ron. He moved toward Harry and would have jumped on him if it hadn't been for Kirke blocking him.

"Mister Weasley, control yourself!" exclaimed McGonagall.

Ron looked around like a mad and cornered animal.

"YOU'RE ALL IN THIS AGAINST ME," he said.

"MISTER WEASLEY, SILENCE!" thundered the professor

He stopped and glared at her.

"Your conduct is nothing less than criminal," she announced. "It is certainly not what I expect of the Gryffindor captain," Ron's eyes opened wide in panic, "or of a Gryffindor prefect."

She took out her wand. "Accio Insignis!" Both the Captain and the Prefect badges tore from Ron's robe and jumped into her hand.

Stupefied, Ron looked at the twin symbols of his status, now forcibly taken from him. It was a nightmare. He knew that he hadn't thrown any curve ball. He remembered having calculated with precision the Bludgers he had shot at the students. In his mind everything had been going smoothly. There had been an accident, and he was being treated like a criminal.

"This will cost Gryffindor fifty point, and a week's detention helping Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary," added McGonagall

Ron was devastated, and the pain of injustice was a fire burning in his head. They were taking all he had from him. It was all too much, after those bloody Goblins had ruined his project with Sir Comil, the same Goblins whose defense Hermione always took, and now Harry had trapped and betrayed him, probably for getting the Prefect's badge himself. He figured that Kirke was probably going along with him for the Captaincy.

"YOU SWINE!" he screamed at Harry. "YOU ALWAYS GET EVERYTHING YOUR WAY. YOU COULDN'T STAND THAT I HAD ANYTHING TO MY NAME."

He tried to reach him again, to strike madly at him in any way he could. Harry was taken aback at the viciousness in Ron's voice.

"Ron ..." he began.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! I HATE YOU! I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

McGonagall had to separate them. Ron was sent away, as well as the other students. The professor looked at the ex-captain's retreating back with disgust. She turned toward Harry who was still standing, numb with shock. Her sympathy for him was diminished by his association with Hermione's provocations. Furthermore, she held him to be the de facto leader of the group, and in that respect she felt that he had certainly let things get terribly out of hand.

"Mister Potter, I suggest that you go and clean up," she said, looking at him with a stern face. "I only want to add that I am extremely dissatisfied by all of you since the beginning of this term. Frankly you have disappointed me, and I only hope that you will pull yourselves together in the future."

Harry looked back and remembered that this woman had tricked Hermione, and that she was his enemy, or at least in league with people who were his enemies. He just stared back and said nothing. Presently she left, and then he was alone in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

Behind the wooden partition, Electra showed a cruel smile, and could hardly keep herself from laughing out loud. She hadn't had any trouble in manipulating the Weasley boy, he was by far the weakest of the six mentally, and she only had to push the others a little. The result had been perfect. Those upstarts were only dangerous when they were together. Between what she and Trevor had done, that wouldn't happen for a long, long time. Maybe even never.

At the very least we will have finished our plan and secured our objective before any beginning of reconciliation, and if needed, I can always intervene again.

It was time for her to get back to her home, and to her new lover. Trevor was a good one. She wondered if Shrummer had prepared him especially for her. She wouldn't put it past him.

But is he a gift, or a trap?

She would amuse herself with the handsome Slytherin for a while, and she would test his loyalty. If Trevor was tainted then he would die, and Shrummer would pay a heavy price, otherwise, the boy's allegiance would become the prize of a game between the new Minister of Magic and her.

What lovely games we play together.

- - -

Ministry of Magic,

"Thank you all for being there on such short notice," said Lord Septimus Shrummer.

He was comfortably installed in the luxurious leather chair behind the big desk of the Minister of Magic office. The chair had enlarged to fit his massive frame. Around him, the pictures of the former Ministers were practically seated at attention, and looking on with curiosity at the new leader. As tradition commanded, a spot had been reserved for Fudge, almost but not quite behind a potted plant. It was still void because the painting wasn't finished yet.

Arthur Weasley, Albus Dumbledore and Amelia Bones were seated next to each other, across from the Minister. They all looked tired and unhappy, and they all had grave misgivings about the situation, but they were also loyal to their community, and today Shrummer was the legitimate representative of all wizards and witches. They didn't have to like it however, and so they simply nodded in silent acknowledgment.

"I have several things to say," continued Shrummer in a firm voice of unchallenged authority. "First, the election is over and done with, and even if I realize that it is not easy for you, I am asking you to put it behind us. I respect your opinion, but it is mine which has been vindicated."

He paused and looked at the three faces before him. Bones and Dumbledore's were unreadable. T hey knew the score and how the game was played, but Arthur couldn't hide his sentiments as well as them. Yesterday, this morning actually, the Headmaster had accompanied him to the Burrow. Molly and Percy had been waiting for them. They'd taken the news of Ginny's action badly. Losing the election was nothing, but having happen because of what they could only consider to be a backstabbing blow by a member of the family was devastating. Percy hadn't said anything. The memory of his own estrangement was vivid enough to make him keep quiet. Dumbledore had conjured some dreamless sleep potion for Molly. She was still sleeping when the Ministry Owl had awakened Arthur for this morning's meeting.

Arthur knew that his career was finished. Bones should be able to weather this in the short term. She had a strong position in the Ministry and her department was a powerful one. It would not be easy to replace her, and Law Enforcement would be important in the immediate future.

It fact it will probably take over Goblin Liaison, he thought desperately.

In his dejected mood, all that Arthur hoped for was to return to his old department, and his ridiculous but familiar office. If he couldn't have that, well he would find another job. He was sure of one thing certainly, nothing could be worse than what he'd had to go through the last few days.

Shrummer was considering the man in front of him, and guessing at most of his thoughts. It only confirmed his opinion that Weasley would not have made a good Minister of Magic. Although he had principles, and the portly Slytherin respected that, the man lacked ambition, and he had to be prodded to act decisively. That was a major weakness.

"Second," went on Shrummer. "We need to solve this Goblin business. Arthur, I want you to reopen contact with them, and explain our new position."

Arthur was astounded.

"Why me? I thought that you ... That I ..."

"You are still in charge of Goblin Liaison," stated Shrummer. "I see no reason to replace you. In fact I think that you have done a good job, but that the policy you were made to follow was flawed. I will give you a new and better one."

Arthur could guess what that would be, and there was no way that he would preside over a war with the Goblins.

"Sir I don't think that-" The Minister raised his hand.

"Arthur," he interrupted. "In a serious negotiation, one must use show both a stick and a carrot. I am not going to going to ask you to be the stick. I know that you want to resolve this peacefully, and I am giving you a chance to do that." He turned toward Dumbledore. "And you as well, Albus."

Dumbledore was surprised. Like Arthur he had expected the new Minister to confine them to the sidelines, which he too would have almost welcomed, so tired and miserable that he was. He forced himself to sit up and prepare for what was coming.

"What are you proposing sir?" he asked.

"I am taking the position that the Goblins have overreached their prerogative, and that it is they who are at fault," said Shrummer. "And so I am giving them a simple choice: Lift the ban and we start negotiations, or else we go to war, economically or militarily."

"What do you mean 'economically'?" asked Bones.

"I mean we apply your plan to break the Gringotts monopoly," said Shrummer, gesturing toward Dumbledore. "I mean, we drive them out of business and out of our world." He sat back in his chair with a grim expression. "I am counting on all three of you to work on that. Arthur, your task is to make them understand that we mean business. Albus, I want you to start right away with finding a substitute currency, and you Amelia, I want your troops and the Aurors to make plans for an all out assault."

They were stuck mute by the Minister's forceful words. Arthur looked ready to stand up and leave, Dumbledore had a severe and disapproving expression, and Bones' face was closed and hard. Shrummer considered them shrewdly and continued more softly.

"I am aware that you disapprove these orders, and that you are probably thinking of refusing, even at the cost of resigning. Am I wrong?"

"No Minister," said Bones in a hard voice. "On that count you are not wrong at all."

Shrummer didn't show any sign of annoyance at the insubordination. He sat up and leaned toward them, his two arms stretched out, palms flat on his desk in an attitude of domination.

"Well I have news for you then," he said. "I do not care a wit for what you think, because I am going to give you the best arguments for doing my binding."

He turned toward Arthur.

"If the Goblins do not listen to you, or if you will not speak to them, then I will not waste time searching for a replacement. There will be no Goblin Liaison Office and we will apply plan B."

He addressed Dumbledore.

"You are plan B, Albus. Make the Goblins irrelevant to us. If you cannot find a solution then I will have no other options but to call in the troops."

He turned to Bones.

"That is plan C, and that is you Amelia. I you do not want to handle it, then I will sack you and replace you with someone who will have a lot less scruples in applying the necessary force."

He surveyed them with a determined and pitiless expression.

"I hope you realize that it will be much better for each of you, if the others do their job properly. Drag your feet and you will probably fail, and then I apply plan D. My plan: An all out assault with the gloves off, and I will raze Gringotts to the ground."

"This is little more than blackmail, sir," said Dumbledore coldly.

He was desperately trying to find a counter to the man's demands, but all the plans he could think of required time, and that was the one thing that they didn't have.

"It is not blackmail for me, Albus," retorted Shrummer. "I mean what I say. You worry about loss of lives and hurt feelings. I deem order to be the most important value, because I know that ultimately, it will save more lives than appeasement." His face was inflexible. "And I will have order."

An uneasy silence followed. They could call his bluff, if it was one, but it looked more and more that the man had all the aces in his hand. Arthur already knew that he would give in. It was impossible for him to resign in such circumstances, and leave the others to shoulder the terrible responsibility alone. He simply couldn't live with himself. Shrummer looked at his watch.

"Time is of the essence. I am giving you until this afternoon to make your decision." He looked back at them. "That will be all, gentlemages."

Bones stood up first and walked out of the office without giving the Minister any word or sign of courtesy. Arthur followed shortly after. Dumbledore stood up last and stared for a moment at the other wizard. Shrummer looked back with no trace of apprehension or doubts. The Headmaster briefly considered putting on the same show that he had enacted for Hermione, but he didn't dare. He had already taken one too many hasty decisions, and the results had not been good. He knew that he was tired, raked by guilt, and altogether too much rattled for gambling that way again. They had lost this battle, and it was time to pay for their errors. If anything, he was sorrier for Arthur who had done nothing wrong, and who would probably pay the highest price. It was unfair, but Dumbledore had lived long enough to know that life was like that sometimes.

The least I can do is try to shoulder part of his load.

Shrummer saw the defeat in the old wizard's eyes and smiled inwardly. This meeting had gone well. He controlled them all. Even the famed Albus Dumbledore would be obeying his orders. He sat back in his chair and looked on as the old mage stood and left the room. The former Ministers were staring at the scene in silent stupefaction. When the door closed, Shrummer allowed himself a cold smile of triumph. He had another meeting to attend, but not here, and afterwards it would be time for lunch. What would he like to eat? He felt like indulging himself today, and he patted his large belly.

Why not some seafood? Yes, the largest plate of the finest the Warlock's Club has to offer, with some of that superb Muscadet they keep. Yes, definitely so!

- - -

Hogwarts,

Severus Snape entered the infirmary at a brisk pace. Silena had been sent by Madam Pomfrey to ask him to assist her in dealing with Alicia Parker's injuries. The little girl had been running to keep up with him, her face a mask of grief and worry for her friend.

It used to be that only Potter provoked these catastrophes, and now the others are doing it as well. Merlin help us all if this is a new trend!

He was initially determined to consider the case objectively. They were all equal, and he didn't want to feel more obligated to some than to others, not even Helen Parker's children. His resolution faltered a little, when he saw Harry and Richard waiting at the door of the room where Madam Pomfrey was operating.

"Good morning, professor," Harry said.

"You'll be able to help her, won't you?" asked Richard with a broken voice. "Please, sir. Tell me that you can heal her."

Severus would normally have shot back a sharp reply to such a plea from one of his students. A Slytherin was supposed to be strong, especially in such circumstances. Death and injury happened, and they should be taken as the hard lessons of life that they were. It was the first thought that came to his mind, but it was overridden by his last image of Helen, and by the remembrance of the Prophet's story this morning. He still felt gravely insulted by her attitude, but he accepted that the Parker family had received more that its fair share of hard lessons for the moment. Ruthless words would be all too much like hexing an ambulance.

So he said nothing and went inside the room. Harry placed his arm over the boy's shoulder and pulled him close. Silena reached out timidly and took Richard's hand.

"They're the best you know," said Harry. "Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey. They saved my life many times. If somebody can heal Alicia, then they can."

Harry felt the boy tremble and kicked himself for the clumsy words. He realized what the unspoken thought was. What if nobody can save her?

Severus arrived in front of Alicia's bed. The girl's bloody clothing had been removed and lay in a heap on the floor. She was till unconscious, and her skin was very pale. The wound on her side was still bleeding and her breathing was raspy and labored. Every time and them she coughed with a spasm, spitting foamy blood from her mouth. Madam Pomfrey hovered over her.

"What is it Poppy?" he asked.

She explained the accident and what had been done up till now.

"At first, I thought that it would be all right, but it looks like there is a great deal of internal bleeding, and the stake has sliced the lung. She's in shock and I'm losing her Severus."

- - -

Somewhere,

Once again the seven figures materialized along the stone circumference. This time the excitement and tension of victory were palpable among them. Shrummer and Electra gave their reports on the latest developments, and even Thelas felt some of his doubts abate. Everything was going according to plan, something which hadn't happened in a long time.

"Do you believe that they will agree?" asked Dragonis of Shrummer, when he'd described the morning's meeting.

"They will give in, all of them," replied the wizard. "Well maybe not Bones, but she is the least important one."

"The really essential element is that the Hogwarts Headmaster be occupied with a deep and almost insoluble problem," added Boocrat.

"And of course you will assist him?" asked Electra with a smile.

"Of course," replied the scholar. "It will be very enlightening to see what he comes up with, and when the time will be right, then I will give him the correct answer," he gave a wry smile, "well our correct answer."

He chuckled dryly and his mirth was taken up by the others, until the entire room echoed with the triumphant laughter of the seven wizards and witches.

Bad Sunday Ch23 - 17