Here Be Monsters

To say that my announcement creates a stunned reaction would be an understatement. Minerva makes a series of sounds like a muggle missile about to launch. Alastor curses and stomps around on his wooden leg, his eye spinning even more rapidly than normal. Remus and Arthur look stunned, and even Severus has gone a shade paler.

"Calmly, everyone, calmly," I say in my schoolroom tone. Fawkes adds an annoyed burst of song to emphasize the point. The others settle down almost immediately.

"Surely she can't stay here, Albus!" Minerva looks concerned and outraged.

"I don't think we have a choice. She is one of the chosen delegates to the executive committee." I smile soothingly at my Deputy Headmistress.

"The others did not know who she was!" Alastor growls.

"That is true, and I will not violate her trust by telling them - at least not until she has given me reason."

"Reason!" Alastor slams down a gnarled fist on the edge of my desk. "Her bloodline is reason enough!"

"How Slytherin of you, Moody," Severus says in an oily tone, "I thought you were a Gryffindor."

Another period of silence follows Snape's observation.

"The fact is," I say slowly into the quiet, "that neither Margarite nor her sisters have ever given evidence of following their father's ways. The presumption of innocence applies."

"I remember hearing rumors that Grindelwald had fathered children," Arthur interjects, "but I did not know it had ever been confirmed."

"He fathered several, in fact," I answer. "Unlike Voldemort, Grindelwald's passions were not confined to power and politics. He had at least half a dozen paramours during his adult years. He fathered children by three of them that we could identify. It was decided after his death not to confirm the identities of his offspring, the better to shield them from unwarranted retribution. He never married any of his mistresses, and most of his children were still very young. Margarite was the oldest, but it is not clear how much contact she actually had with her father."

"Who was her mother?" Arthur asks.

"A young Bulgarian witch named Zosima Narodim. Grindelwald met her while he was researching Dark magics in the Balkans in the late 1920s. He abandoned her in the early 1930s, but they were in intermittent contact until his death. I must admit from what we know of her, which isn't much, she had definite Dark inclinations herself."

"All the more reason not to trust that Streltsy woman!" Alastor is practically beside himself.

"All the more reason to proceed cautiously," I say calmly. "We need to be very careful. Fudge has given us a lesson in what happens when one lets fear run wild and rule over reason."

Minerva gives a snort, but I can see in her eyes that she understands my point. Lupin makes a sour face, but nods. Arthur finally does the same.

"Still, I agree we must go slowly," I allow. "Let us take every step to prevent the Countess from discovering sensitive information prematurely. Now, speaking of sensitive information, what is it you need to tell us, Severus?"

I feel a deep pang of concern as I finally turn my full attention to Snape. He looks worn and deeply tired. Indeed, he is so tired that he even forgets to do more than give a perfunctory sneer.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I am sorry to say that in the last couple of days the Dark Lord has been very active. His recent defeat in the Ministry has stung him badly and he is now ready to launch a major campaign while his enemies are still in disarray."

Just as I feared.

I see on the faces of the others that they are having the same thought. "Go ahead, Severus."

"As you know, the Dark Lord trusts no one completely. Therefore, much of what I have to say I have gleaned from bits and pieces of conversation and frankly circumstantial evidence. However, I believe I can say with some confidence that he will launch a three-part campaign in the near future. The first portion will consist of attacks on highly public targets. I don't know when these raids will commence, but I am guessing it will be within the next few days. He has placed that part of the campaign in the hands of Edward Salt, one of his less intelligent and more violent followers."

"Salt," Alastor muses, "the same Salt that has served multiple sentences for smuggling and assault?"

"The same," Snape replies. "As I say, given the nature of the person involved we can probably expect something unimaginative but brutal. I suspect the Dark Lord half intends many of the attacks to fail. He can make martyrs out of some of his more stupid followers while achieving his real goals, creating public fear and uproar, causing his opponents to stretch their forces thin and leave Azkaban poorly defended. Then he will attempt to rescue Malfoy and company."

"I was wondering when that would be coming," Arthur says softly.

"I think it will probably be at the height of Salt's attacks. I know most about this, as I am to be part of it."

"You Severus?" Minerva asks wonderingly. "But aren't you too valuable an asset here at Hogwarts to risk?"

Snape smiles his cold, cynical smile.

Oh Severus, how did I ever let you come to this?

//The same way you let Potter come to his crisis. It was useful for you.//

"The Dark Lord makes it a point to remind his assets that they are his property to use as he sees fit," Severus says. "He does not want anyone to get too great an idea of their own value."

"Do you think he suspects you, Severus?" I ask, feeling fear for this petty, vicious man.

"He suspects everyone," Snape says flatly. "But I do not think me any more than any other. This is just his way of reminding me of my place."

"When is the assault to be?" Alastor interjects, still stomping around worriedly.

"I don't know yet. Soon. Bellatrix Lestrange has been placed in charge. It is her chance to partly redeem herself for what happened at the Ministry."

"And the third part of the campaign?" I ask calmly, my heart racing. I feel strangely short of breath.

"That is the one I know least about. I know that he has placed it in the hands of Anne Megeher. It is something in Northern Ireland."

"Northern Ireland?" That could be several things, none of them good.

"Whatever it is, it is very important to the Dark Lord. He is assigning the bulk of the Dementors to that operation. It has something to do with some muggle records that Megeher acquired in the last few days. Evidently not very well known documents, as I've looked in both our newspapers and the muggles', and have found only brief mention of a burglary. It was at a small Catholic priory, St. Brigid's."

"St. Brigid's?" My chest is hurting badly. "Of County Derry?"

"Yes," Severus says, "Aghadowey to be precise."

I lean forward and rest my face in my palms. It's all I can do not to let out a groan.

"What's wrong, Albus?" Minerva asks, her voice full of concern.

"If what I think has happened has indeed happened, we are facing a disaster of epic proportions." I automatically reach for my lemon drops and pop three in my mouth.

"Well, don't keep us hanging man!" Alastor growls.

"The Priory of St. Brigid is the repository of certain knowledge that could be very dangerous if it fell into the hands of Voldemort. The fact is supposed to be secret and there are supposed to be many safeguards in place. Evidently someone has failed badly."

//Nice to know you aren't the only one who can make mistakes.//

"AND?" Alastor leans on my desk, his eye spinning.

"First we have to ascertain the true nature of events, Alastor. Some knowledge is best not shared."

//Aren't we falling back into bad habits?//

Maybe I am at that. Still, I do not speak of my suspicions.

"Contact the rest of the Order," I tell Minerva. "Tell them we must gather in Aghadowey tomorrow evening. They can use the floo network to reach the Raven Hotel. They are to arrive no later than nine in the evening local time."

Minerva nods vigorously. I can see she has many questions, but she has learned to recognize my expressions over the years.

I fold my hands and rest my head against the back of my chair. My chest still aches slightly, but I am determined to ignore it. "Is there anything else?" I ask softly.

There is only silence and shrugs.

"In that case, tomorrow at Aghadowey. Arthur and Remus, would you stay a moment?" The others take their cue and leave, Minerva and Severus down the stairs, Moody through the fireplace, still grumbling.

"Arthur," I say first, looking at him squarely, and "thank you for your letter."

"You are quite welcome, Albus." Odd how I had never noticed that determined glint in his eye. I, like everyone else, seem to underestimate Arthur Weasley.

"We will speak of it in detail later. Soon, I promise, but later. Meanwhile, I will take what you have said to heart."

Arthur is clearly not satisfied, but nods reluctantly. "I should warn you Albus, that Molly and I have taken that boy into our hearts. We will not easily forgive anyone who hurts him."

"Arthur," I say softly and trying to keep my voice calm, "you know I would never deliberately cause Harry pain."

"I'm not sure of that, Albus." I clench my teeth in shock. "I know you feel deeply for him, but I wonder if you understand what his limits are? You pushed him too far last year. Much too far."

//Goodness gracious. Is there dissent in the forces of Light?//

"Do you really think I want him to be unhappy, Arthur?" I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"No, I don't. But the way you act sometimes - I wonder if you aren't more concerned about Harry in the abstract than Harry in the real. You want him alive, but do you really ever think about the consequences of letting those muggles abuse him?" Arthur's voice is so ... cold. The expression in his eyes is not one I've ever seen him wear. It is fierce, so fierce that he resembles a werewolf more than Remus does.

In my chest the thing that has been dormant for the last few days suddenly rises. I feel a hot rage burning inside, threatening to explode outward.

//Isn't that fair? Haven't you even sometimes thought that those 'dark and difficult years' have made him stronger?//

Remus is also looking at me with accusation in his eyes. He looks old and sick and tired and angry.

"Arthur," I say slowly, using every bit of control I have to keep my voice steady, "I have made many mistakes. But you yourself have said how I feel about Harry. Do you think that I would allow him to suffer if I thought I had a choice?"

"When I wrote that letter I did not. But after what Molly has told me, I just don't know, Albus." He rises suddenly and strides to the fireplace. Without a backward glance he throws the powder in and crying out "The Burrow!" is gone.

Remus remains. He looks so weary, so very weary. But the set of his jaw is grim.

"So, Remus," I ask, "do you think I delight in torturing Harry?"

"No, Albus, I don't. But I wonder if you really care what happens to him."

My chest is hurting so badly I think my heart will shrivel. "How can you say that, Remus?"

"After I sent you that letter, Molly talked to me as well. What did you do to him Albus? Why do you have to use a child as your pawn?"

"What did I do to him?" I feel like snarling but content myself with twisting my fingers together. "I loved him so much I hurt him. I loved him so much I lied to him!"

"Then why do you torture him like this?" His voice is growing angrier.

So I tell him. I tell him the reason Harry must stay with the Dursleys. When I am done, the cold in his expression does not lessen.

"So, better to be safe than sorry? Better to let muggles abuse him than let Sirius love him? Thank you Albus. And thank you for letting Sirius storm off that night. Twelve years in Azkaban, courtesy of your caution." I think for a moment Remus is going to transform right in front of me, even though the moon is not full. He has pulled back his lips in a canine snarl, and his nose twitches like he has caught the scent of prey.

"I have said that I have made many grievous mistakes, Remus. What I did that night was probably the worst. And yet, what will you do? You who proclaims so loudly he cannot be a father for Harry?" I am yelling now, and I don't care.

Remus has surged to his feet and I to mine. We glare across my desk and for the first time in a very long while, I feel like punching someone.

RIIIIIIIING.

The sound cuts through the tense air and for a moment I don't recognize it. Then it strikes me.

RIIIIIIIING.

The phone that Iris gave me. Harry is calling.

Ignoring Remus' surprised look, I pull the phone from the inside of my robes and press the press it to my ear. "Hello, is that you, Harry?"

"Yes, Professor." His voice is flat and toneless.

"It is good to hear from you. How are you?"

"I'm OK. But I had another vision."

In that case you are not well. I grip the phone and feel my fingers trembling.

"A vision about Voldemort?" Remus gasps but I hold up one finger for him to be patient.

"Yes." Harry's voice is tight, implying that he is trying very hard not to snap at what he considers an idiotic question. "He was talking to some Irish deatheater. Something about some book they had gotten. He said it had the correct maps and words to pass through the spells of the Mag Sleacht, whatever that is."

"It is a very bad thing, Harry."

"So I don't need to know about it right? Just practice Occlumency and stay in this damned house until somebody says I can go out and play!" His tone is suddenly filled with bitterness and anger.

"Harry," I say in a tone that is stern despite my intentions, "your attitude does not help matters."

"My attitude!" He sounds almost as angry as he did in my office. "It's all my fault? I'm just supposed to sit here in the bosom of my loving family and think about...what happened?"

"Harry, I have already explained why you need to be there. It is not something I find pleasing, either."

A sullen silence. I can almost hear the thoughts - You aren't here. You didn't stay in a closet for 10 years. You didn't get locked in a room like a criminal.

"Are you following the schedule I sent?" I ask in a more normal tone.

A mumble.

"What, Harry?"

"IsaidUncleVernondoesn'tlikeitandwantsmetoworkaroundthegarden."

It takes me a moment to unpack that. "I told you to inform me if they objected."

"You've been away." Was there a faint note of accusation in that?

"I'm sorry, Harry. You are quite right."

"'S'Okay." His tone implies that it is not.

"Are you using the dreamless sleep potion?"

"Yes." A weary sigh.

Obviously the dose must be increased again. This is indeed worrying.

"Harry, Remus and I want to visit you tomorrow afternoon. I'll get in touch with Mrs. Figg and have her invite you over. We will see you around noon.

"You don't have to bother." Bitterness fills his voice.

"I disagree, Harry. We need to see about your progress in Occlumency and other things."

"OK. I'll perform for you."

"Harry!" I let my annoyance slip into my voice. "The importance of this has been explained to you. I will be most disappointed if I find you are taking it lightly!"

"Okay." Harry sounds slightly surprised and thankfully a little chastened. I hate to be stern with him but this is getting out of hand.

"Has anything else happened, Harry?"

"No. No Dementors so far." Is that actually a little grim humor? Or am I just hoping?

"Good. Remus and I will see you at Arabella's at noon. Please inform your Uncle I will speak to him tomorrow."

"He won't like it." I am pleased that Harry simply states that as fact, without a trace of fear.

"That is unfortunate. Should I send an owl?" Of course, I could just get the number and phone. I am beginning to catch on to this muggle way of doing things.

"No. I'll tell him. He's been all right lately."

No doubt due to the Order's threats. At least that seems to be working out.

"Very well. Goodbye, Harry."

"Bye." The phone falls silent.

Remus is looking at me, still angry but obviously not raging. "We are to meet Harry at noon?"

"Yes, at Arabella's. Whatever else you have, put it off. This takes first priority. Also I would like you to accompany me to the Ministry tomorrow."

"Why?" His eyes narrow is suspicion.

Why can't anybody trust me?

//They know you too well.//

"We have some business there - Order business."

"I am not sure I am the best representative of the Order with regard to the Ministry. Wouldn't Arthur be better?"

"Arthur's position at his job is still delicate and will be until we can determine what is going to happen about Fudge. Meanwhile, we need to persuade the Ministry that new times are on the horizon."

"Oh. You want me for a statement." His voice is as bitter as Harry's.

I'm surrounded by adolescents.

"I want you for many reasons, Remus. For your advice, your reasoning skills, your experience, and yes as a statement. If we want Wizarding society to become more open, we must set examples whenever we can."

Lupin looks disgruntled, but finally nods. "Very well. I will meet you at the Ministry." He sounds like we are going to a torture chamber, which is ridiculous.

A torture chamber would be much more enjoyable.

Wednesday 3 July, 1996

0931 GMT

I arrive at the Ministry feeling more rested and refreshed than I have in days. Despite my worries over Harry, the alliance, and Voldemort's moves, a night in my own bed has done me wonders.

Remus is waiting for me, looking on the restored Fountain of Magical Brethren. It has been repaired in all its mawkish hypocrisy. At least St. Mungo's will get some benefit from it. Remus nods at my greeting but does not speak. I suppose he is still angry.

We move through the Atrium, stopping at the Security Desk to have our wands weighed. Several Aurors are in attendance at various points in the Atrium and the lift chamber beyond. Most of them nod or give some signal. Others, however, seem lost in thought or concentration.

We ascend rapidly to Level One, exiting the lift opposite the Offices of the Minister of Magic. The large reception area is in chaos, with wizards and witches coming and going seemingly at random. Piles of papers and letters clutter every desk. Rows of chairs are filled to overcrowding with what appear to be surly petitioners. And presiding over it all, looking worse than I have ever seen him, is Percy Weasley.

"Percy," I say coming up and laying a hand on his shoulder, "are you sure you should be here? You look worn out."

He looks worse than that. His eyes have deep circles under them, and his face is drawn and pinched. He seems to have aged five years in a little more than twelve hours. He is still wearing the same clothes he had on when he left the Storm Coach.

"Headmaster," Percy says, looking at me blankly as if it is taking his mind a moment to catch up with his tongue, "you wish to speak with Minister Fudge?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I have to insist." I bend my best look of benign severity on him.

Percy blinks a few times, then shakes his head. "He isn't here. He's in St. Mungo's."

"When?" I am not surprised at the news. Fudge has never been one to handle stress well, as this whole year has shown.

"Last night. He checked himself in with extreme exhaustion and heart palpitations." Percy runs one hand aimlessly through his red hair and sighs.

//More likely extreme fear of ridicule.//

Tom has a point.

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

//Ten to one he doesn't.//

"We are waiting to hear." Percy looks around the room with an air of a hunted beast.

"Very well then, I think you can help me." I smile my benign grandfather smile and maneuver Percy into a chair, sitting across from him while I extract some papers from a pocket of my robes.

"What do you need?" His voice is suspicious, but mainly tired. I feel a pang of regret, but what I am about to do is necessary and may well end up being to his benefit.

"I have a decree loosening enforcement of the laws concerning use of underage magic. You might recall we had been discussing making exceptions for the crisis so that young people can train and help defend their families." Actually the idea has been kicked around in several forums, but no specific suggestions have yet been made.

"Yes," Percy says slowly, "some of the Minister's programs considered that. But I don't know if we should go suspending laws."

"Not laws Percy, just procedures. I mean, if deatheaters were to attack a family do you really think the public would appreciate children being dragged into hearings just because they tried to help?"

"Well, no." Percy runs his hand through his hair again. "But we have to follow procedures."

"And we are. All this does is authorize the Improper Use of Magic Office to use its discretion during the crisis. The law remains the same as ever."

"Well, I don't know. Maybe we should wait until the Minister returns."

"Percy," I say sternly, "we are at war. Voldemort," Percy jumps, "may strike at any time. We can't wait around for Cornelius to get better. The public needs leadership and guidance, NOW."

"Of course you're right I suppose I..."

I hand him the decree.

"Very well." He signs it in a scrawl very unlike his usual elegant script.

"Good." I look up at Lupin and wink. He gives me the ghost of a smile. "Now here are just a few odds and ends relating to Hogwarts we need to clear up so we can continue with planning the next term. For instance we will need additional security. Here are some papers authorizing the Auror Office to work with us on that."

"Of course, excellent thinking!" Percy quickly scrawls his name to those.

"And these papers formalize the relationship between the Office of International Magical Cooperation and the Council we set up at Beauxbatons."

"Well," Percy blanches, "I don't know if I have the authority to do that."

"You aren't promising anything Percy. It's just an authorization to keep talking like we did the last couple of days."

"I suppose that would be fine," he says in relief, signing the decree. The petitioners are beginning to grow very restless, and a long line of men and women bearing files and papers is lining up to see Percy.

"Let's see," I say in my best dither, "there are a few other things."

"Mr. Weasley!" One of the witches is waving urgently. "These papers HAVE to be co-signed in the next few minutes or we'll miss the morning mail to the continent." A low roar of noise fills the room as dozens of functionaries and petitioners voice similar complaints.

"Professor Dumbledore, can't this wait?" Percy is sweating now. He looks like he did in his early years at Hogwarts, before I made him a prefect and, I regret to say, things started going to his head.

//Another mistake for the great Albus.//

"Well here then Percy. These are just some routine housekeeping matters authorizing me to make preparations for graduation and next term."

"Fine!" Percy quickly signs the papers I present to him. As I had hoped, he does not notice the rather non-routine ones I have slipped in.

"Thank you Percy." I make to rise but Percy suddenly holds out a hand to stop me.

"How could I forget?! When I returned from Beuxbatons I was told that the Minister had authorized public recognition of our heroic young students!"

How could you forget indeed, especially since you are convinced one of those heroes is mad? "Has he?" I say aloud.

"Yes! Mallory, please bring me those copies of the citiation notices!" A young, harried looking witch quickly rifles through a stack of papers on a far desk and brings over a stack.

"Here you are," Percy exclaims, "the Star of Merit with Crossed Wands for all of the students, and in addition the Order of Excalibur for Harry Potter!"

"The Order of Excalibur? It has been quite a while since that one was awarded."

"1732," Percy explains in a didactic tone, "but it is still an active and perfectly good award. It's also the only one of the major Orders that doesn't have an age or profession restriction."

"I see the ceremony is scheduled for 14 July."

"Yes, here at the Ministry. The Minister felt it would be appropriate."

And public. Still, it appeals to me that the awards will be given on the same day as the memorial ceremony for Sirius. He would have approved of the irony.

"We will provide full protection of course," Percy goes on pompously. "But the Minister absolutely insists on this ceremony. I am told he is most adamant that he will not here of it being put off."

Fudge is running scared and looking for good publicity. If he has to stage a spectacle that is an open invitation for attack by deatheaters, so be it. Then again, putting our finger in Voldemort's eye is not necessarily a bad thing, if it is done correctly.

"The owls have gone out to the recipients this morning," Percy says. "Your own notification is probably awaiting you at Hogwarts."

"I have no doubt." I say with a deliberately bright smile. "Thank you Percy, and convey my regards to Minister Fudge."

With a hearty handshake and an offer of a lemon drop (declined), I rise and hurry out, the silent Lupin still at my heels.

"What was that about Albus?" Lupin asks as we enter an empty lift. "Didn't you read in this morning's Daily Prophet about Fudge's illness?"

"Of course," I say smiling, "that is why I decided to take advantage of the opportunity."

"Opportunity?" His eyes narrow. "What did you just have Percy sign?"

"Many things. This in particular might please you." I hand him a scroll.

He reads it and his eyebrows slowly creep up his hairline. "Temporary suspension of enforcement of the recent Laws Concerning the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"Yes, with a clause pardoning Buckbeak from his death sentence. I put that in because I thought Sirius would have appreciated it."

"He would indeed." For the first time today, Lupin smiles openly.

The Department of International Magical Cooperation receives the decree concerning the Council without turning an eyelash. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, however, bursts into fury on seeing the suspension decree. I had expected that, as many of them were friends and supporters of Dolores Umbridge. Luckily all they can do is fume. Lupin is grinning openly by the time we leave.

Our next stop, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, is comparatively quiet. It still has no head, since Fudge never got around to appointing one after Ludo Bagman took to his heels to escape the wrath of his defrauded Goblin creditors. The temporary head, a waspish young man named Altarus Brackson, does not greet me with enthusiasm. Brackson had been a mediocre chaser for Slytherin in his Hogwarts years. He had been an even more mediocre student.

"How can I help you, Professor Dumbledore?" he asks with a trace of condescension. "If you are here about the Potter-Weasley bans, I must tell you that we will not reconsider."

"I am not going to ask you to reconsider, Altarus," I say smiling. "I have made up my mind that the bans will be lifted."

"Headmaster," Altarus answers with a definite sneer, "might I remind you that the playing of Quidditch at Hogwarts is conducted under a grant of permission from this office? If you defy our bans and allow Potter to play, we will revoke that permission and insist that all Quidditch team by disbanded and equipment seized. I do not think the alumni and parents would be pleased watching the Quidditch Pitch dismantled."

"I am sure they would not," I exclaim amiably. Remus now senses what is afoot, and his grinning so widely that I can tell Brackson is getting nervous. "Luckily that will not be necessary. Mr. Weasley has just signed this decree lifting the ban!" I pass it to him.

"Mr. Weasley?" He looks at the paper closely with an expression like he has just been punched.

"Yes, acting for Minister Fudge."

"This is most irregular. I don't know if this will do!"

"Well, if you defy the decree, I suppose the Wizengamot will have to decide the issue." I smile coldly.

He looks at me and his jaws swing shut with a snap. He has just remembered who is Chief Warlock of that body.

"I would have to recuse myself of course," I say cheerfully, "but I think you will find Madam Bones to be most sympathetic to Mr. Potter in this instance."

With ill grace, he marks the decree as received and returns a copy to me. We depart, leaving the previously quiet office beginning to reverberate with his curses as we close the door.

"Percy is going to be in a great deal of trouble," Remus observes cheerfully.

"It's for his own good." I say flatly.

//You are good at deciding what is for people's own good, aren't you?//

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is even more of a madhouse than the Minister's Office. Dodging several squadrons of paper-airplane memos, we make our way to Amelia Bones' office. She welcomes us happily and soon we are seated in comfortable chairs, drinking tea that her assistant has provided.

First I present her with the decree about enforcement of the Law on Use of Underage Magic. She smiles. "I was hoping you would manage to get this through. Even Malfalda is saying provisions have to be made." Malfalda Hopkirk, head of the Improper Magic Use Office, is known for her attention to the letter of the law - as Harry has discovered on several occasions.

"Have you had a chance to look at Miss Granger's petition?" Amelia is suddenly very serious.

"Yes, and although I agree that it is hearsay in its claim regarding the use of the quill, Miss Granger was an actual witness with regard to the two other claims she makes." I sip my tea and frown.

"That is most distressing. I never liked Dolores, but I had no idea she would go to such lengths. I asked Susan about the quill the minute she got home. She assured me it was true. What was the woman thinking? Surely she knew something like that would get every Wizarding parent in Britain up in arms!"

"Forethought was not one of Dolores Umbridge's greatest strengths," I answer. "Witness the stupidity of the legislation she pushed."

Remus grunts his agreement with that. Amelia has the grace to look embarassed.

"Do you think we should proceed on all the charges?" Amelia looks concerned. "I understand from Susan that it was Harry Potter who bore the brunt of her abuse. Do you think he would testify?"

"What abuse?" Lupin asks with a puzzled look. "What quill?" I had forgotten that he did not know.

I nod to Amelia, who explains the charge. By the time she is finished Lupin is doing a very good impression of Vernon Dursley.

"WHAT!!" The werewolf comes out of his chair with a bound. "Why didn't McGonagall put a stop to that?!"

"Harry never told her," I say quietly, "he never told any of the teachers. We only found out once Umbridge was in complete control and started to do things more openly."

Of course I knew. I had watched. I had done nothing. My stomach churns with anger and shame.

//Pity poor you.//

"Why didn't he tell Si...uh, the rest of us?" Remus is pacing now. "When I get my hands on that boy I'll, I'll, ... ohhh!"

"To answer your question Amelia," I say to the bemused Madam Bones, "I don't think Harry would agree to testify and I would not recommend it. He is in a very distressed situation right now. The last thing he needs is that type of ordeal."

"And the other charges?"

"Well," I say slowly, "the charge about the Cruciatus Curse is weak. She did not actually complete the curse. The most we could charge her with is intent, and that could be troublesome, particularly if the Slytherins that were there at the time decide to dispute Miss Granger's story."

There is also the problem that it cuts too close to Harry's own use of the curse.

"But on the matter of the Dementors, I think we have here dead to rights. She admitted her guilt in front of Harry and Hermione alone. The question is, do we want to pursue it?"

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" Remus stops pacing and looks at me fiercely. "SHE TRIED TO KILL HARRY AND YOU WANT TO LET HER GET AWAY WITH IT?"

"I have no desire whatsoever to see Dolores Umbridge go unpunished," I say in a careful, reasonable tone. "But given the problem of Harry's hearing last year, prosecuting Umbridge would be a severe embarassment to Fudge."

"AND?" The werewolf is almost shaking with disbelief.

"And," I say softly, "distasteful as it is to admit, we might be better off with Fudge than with a Ministry in disarray."

"You would let that woman get away with attacking Harry for, for, POLITICS?" Remus is screeching.

"There are many ways of dealing with Dolores Umbridge," I say in a hard voice, "do not think sending her to Azkaban is the only way to punish her!"

"Arthur is right about you." Remus says in disgust.

I sit frozen for a moment. Amelia looks from one to the other of us in shock. I am fighting the urge to come out of my chair and physically assault the angry werewolf.

"Remus," I finally say and realize my voice is close to shaking, "I give you my word we will deal with Umbridge for what she has done. But please understand that we MUST take the good of the whole into account."

"The good of the many versus the good of the one? That's always the way you think, isn't it, Albus?" His fists are clenching and unclenching.

"I have never," I say softly, "EVER, looked upon Harry's welfare as a utilitarian concern. Not even when I logically SHOULD have." I raise my hand to forestall another outburst. "But there are ways of satisfying the good of both the one and the many. Surely that is best?"

//Come now. NEVER, EVER? What about all those years he spent under the Dursley's care?//

That was to keep him alive!

//Of course it was. The emotional trauma was just an added benefit, I suppose.//

I turn to Amelia, whose eyes are the size of dinner plates. "Forgive us, Amelia. This is a...family squabble."

"We may not have a choice, Albus," she says after a long silence. "As I said, the petitions for no confidence are flooding in. We will have to open a preliminary hearing of the Wizengamot. And I don't see how we can avoid the actual public vote. Most of the petitions are in order, and there are more than enough valid signatures to justify the action."

"I know." I had expected this, only not so soon. "Let's schedule a preliminary hearing for one week from today."

"And Umbridge?" Amelia looks almost scared to bring up the subject.

"I will talk with her personally. I have to recuse myself anyway so there's no impropriety. Maybe once I have seen her the appropriate course of action will be clear."

As she ponders this I look at Lupin. He is still furious. "Remus," I say gently, "you might want to present Madam Bones with this." I hand him another piece of parchment.

He looks at it and his eyes widen. I see tears glinting in them as he passes it to Amelia.

"An order to re-open the case of Sirius Black?" Amelia looks shocked. "I know Mr. Potter believes him innocent, but is there enough evidence?"

"Sirius Black died a hero in this building, Amelia," I say fiercely. "As for evidence, I think Remus can help you with that."

Remus looks at me, his face unreadable. Then he looks at Amelia. "It would be my pleasure. Shall we take it up at your earliest possible convenience?"

She agrees gratefully and, with almost unseemly haste, ushers us out. She keeps looking at Lupin like he might go wild at any moment.

We trudge in silence down to Arthur's small cubbyhole in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He looks up at us and gestures silently for us to find seats in the crowded space. We sit silently for a moment, the air vibrating with tension.

"Albus," Arthur begins at last. "I am sorry for some of the things I said last night. But it is very hard to watch Harry in pain like that."

"I know, Arthur," I say quietly. "Believe me, I know."

Remus grunts. Skepticism has returned to his eyes, but he does not see fit to comment.

"Arthur," I continue softly, "I am here to confess something. I am afraid that I have used your son very badly.'

Arthur frowns. "Charlie, Bill?" he asks, naming his two elder boys who are members of the Order. Then his eyes widen and his face flushes with fear and anger. "Ron?"

"No, Arthur, Percy." I say, still in a quiet tone.

"Percy?"

A quickly explain what I have done. Arthur listens with a grim expression. When I am finished he sits silently for a full two minutes, his jaw working as if he is chewing muggle chewing gum. Finally he bows his head and speaks in a voice filled with grief. "Percy has made his choice. He must bear the consequences."

I reach over and put my hand on his shoulder. After a moment he looks up and forces a smile.

"I have something for you both." He picks up two cards from his desk and hands them to us. Engraved on them in ink that changes colors in flashing kaleidascopic patterns is:

YOU ARE INVITED TO A CELEBRATION OF THE

GRAND OPENING

OF

WEASLEYS' WIZARD WHEEZES

33 Diagon Alley

Saturday 13 July, 1996

Just at the beginning of Summer after Leavetaking. No doubt a very deliberate choice.

"The twins were hoping you both could come," Arthur explains. "They've invited Harry, too. Do you think he could come Albus, if only for a while?"

"I will consider it." When I see Arthur's face tighten I decide to go ahead and give him the good news. "I think we will be able to have Harry out of Privet Drive on Monday evening, Arthur. I have not yet decided where to send him, but would you and Molly be willing to take him for a while, come to that?"

Arthur suddenly grins joyously, much of his anger instantly erased from his face. "You know we would Albus! Ron will be overjoyed."

"It would be best not to mention it yet, though," I caution. "With everything in the wind, something might happen to change our plans, and I would not want to cause a great deal of disappointment."

Arthur frowns but indicates his understanding. At the thought of Harry I look at the nearby clock and realize it is almost twelve. Reflexively I pull out my ward beads and see that they are all dark, save for a single glowing red sphere indicating that Harry has left the confines of #4 Privet Drive. He is doubtless on his way to Arabella's now.

Taking our leave of Arthur, we retreat to the Atrium and floo to Arabella Figg's. The fireplace Arabella has connected to the floo network is upstairs, doubtless to decrease the risk of a casual passerby looking through her windows and seeing something shocking. We find ourselves in a pleasant sitting room full, of course, of cats. I note that the low coffee table in the center of the room is covered with books. Remus and I take a quick look at the volumes and exchange surprised glances.

We move downstairs, following the sound of muffled voices. As we reach the ground floor, I hear Arabella's voice coming from the kitchen.

"Oh, this is awful! How could this have happened?"

A reply from someone is drowned out by a loud moan of pain and I hurry across the living room and enter the kitchen. Arabella is bustling around the counter, looking panicked, and does not see us enter. The other woman in the room, however, notices me the instant I pass through the kitchen door.

"Oh, Merlin!" Nymphadora Tonks exclaims, her pale face an odd contrast to her bright green hair.

However, I have little attention to spare for the flustered Auror. Instead my gaze is fixed on the shirtless teenager seated on the edge of the kitchen table, gripping the edge with his hands while staring at the floor and obviously biting back more moans. His breath is coming in tight gasps. Red swelling blossoms on his ribcage and his right cheek. And his torso is covered in blood.

Harry!