Harry Potter and the Summer of the Dementors

Harry went down to breakfast late the next morning - well, certainly very late by the standards of Privet Drive. He yawned his way into the kitchen at about ten, to find Remus and Mad-Eye deep in conversation. By now he was used to find odd people at odd times of the day sitting in his kitchen talking and plotting. Harry had only recently taken to drinking coffee, and now a pot sat permanently on the stove. He poured himself a cup. Dobby appeared on cue, and Harry asked for just toast. He looked across to Remus, who gave him a smile.

"Nothing too conspiratorial today," he said.

"Fine," said Harry, sitting down at the table.

Both of Moody's eyes fixed on him at the same time, which was quite unusual.

"Morning, Potter," the old Auror growled. "What time do you call this?"

Harry made a pantomime of looking at his watch. "Oh, early morning, I should say."

Moody snorted. "Some of us were up hours ago."

Harry bit into his first piece of toast. "Really?"

Remus was looking on, amused. "What are you up to today, Harry?"

"Not a lot. Why?"

"This came for you about half an hour ago. I signed for it on your behalf."

Harry stared at the very official looking envelope.

"Well, go on, open it," said Mad-Eye testily.

Harry finished his toast and reached slowly for the envelope, slitting it open with his knife, and leaving butter and marmalade all over it. He pulled out the parchment.

"Dear Harry," the letter began. "No doubt you have been hearing of the changes that have been taking place at the Ministry recently.

"I think we need to talk about various matters. I have three o'clock tomorrow afternoon pencilled in my diary. Let me know as soon as you can whether this is convenient."

There was a scrawled signature followed by the words "Minister of Magic".

Harry passed the parchment over to the others. They read through it carefully.

"Well?" he asked them. He could see Remus and Mad-Eye exchanging glances. "OK, what is it?"

"Well," said Remus, "we knew this was coming - Arthur let us know."

"Right. Going to tell me any more?"

Remus shrugged. "Not much more to tell - other than Arbuthnot wants to talk to you."

"About what?"

"What do you think, Potter?" growled Moody.

"Um ... let's see now ... Voldemort perhaps?"

"Well done."

"Thank you, Professor."

Moody stared at him and then gave a slight smile. Mind you, with what was left of Moody's face it was a little difficult to discern it. "Better get used to that, Potter."

"What?"

"Calling me Professor."

It didn't sink in for a moment. Then: "You're coming back to Hogwarts?"

Moody nodded. "Properly this time."

"Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Moody nodded again. "That's right."

"Well," said Harry, "I could think of worst people to have."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or not?"

Harry shrugged. "If you like."

"Careful, Potter!"

"Yes, Professor," said Harry with mock humility.

There was almost another smile on Moody's face. "So what are you going to say to Arbuthnot?"

"Depends on what he wants to know."

"You're in a strong position, you know."

"Everyone keeps on telling me that, but what do I do with it?"

"You want to go into the Ministry?"

"Maybe."

"What else, if you don't?"

"No idea," admitted Harry.

"Don't tell Arbuthnot that."

"He wants you on his side," said Remus.

"I guessed that," said Harry.

"Which means that you don't argue. Be polite, be courteous."

"When aren't I?" Remus looked at him wordlessly. "Ok, ok, I've been a brat sometimes."

"But on the other hand," said Remus, "he's the one going to be making offers, so to speak. Listen, don't argue, nod your head at the right times, but don't commit yourself to anything."

Harry could feel his usual annoyance at being told what to do surface again, but he did his best to beat it down. What Remus was saying made sense. And really, he'd be out of his depth trying to negotiate with the likes of Arbuthnot.

"Right," he said. "Listen, don't argue, don't make promises. That it?"

"You're talking sense at last," Mad-Eye told him.

"I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of this - this bureaucrat stuff."

"It's a skill with which some are born, but most of us have to work at."

"Yeah. Percy. Arbuthnot."

"Yes. But if you're really going to get on, you need more than just that. Which you have and Percy hasn't."

"What's happened to Percy in the reshuffle?" asked Harry.

Another smile tried to force its way to Moody's face.

"Professor Weasley, you mean?"

"He's back at Hogwarts too?" Moody nodded. "Why?"

"A good move from his point of view. He's still too close to the old regime. He'll let things settle down then he'll be back in the Ministry, mark my words."

"Will Arbuthnot want him?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Percy will do what he's told and what's best for Percy. But he's very efficient. Just what Arbuthnot needs. Someone who you can give a job to, and leave them to it."

"Hmm. Well, it won't affect me, anyway."

"That's true. Well, I must get home and dig out some of my old textbooks."

"Me too," admitted Harry. "Last essay of the holidays. 'The relationship between the goblins and the wizards'."

"That for Wynne?"

"Yep."

"Someone else that might be rehabilitated."

"I hope so. He speaks sense."

"A lot of the old guard have gone or are on their way out. We have to make the most of it."

With that, Moody rose to his feet. "So, Potter. You'll need to watch your step next year, now you'll have someone who knows what they're doing teaching you."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry with mock humility.

"Bah," said Moody, as he silently disappeared.

"Exit the demon king," said Remus with a smile.

"It'll be fun next term."

"I can imagine." Remus nodded towards the parchment. "You going to answer that?"

"I suppose I'd better."

Harry picked up the parchment and made his way upstairs. He thought he ought to take some care writing out an answer to a summons such as that.

He spent the rest of the morning on his essay. He thought he'd spend the afternoon in Muggle London - having your own home, and being able to do what you liked, was fine in itself, but he did need a change from time to time. Which he could do by being a tourist for the afternoon.

He got back about seven to find Remus with Fred and George. Remus had finished the Quidditch game he'd been working on for the twins: he was taking through all the spells he had used to construct the game.

"Hi, Harry. Thanks for the party," said George, as he walked down into the kitchen.

"Yeah, it was good," Fred told him.

"Glad you had a good time," said Harry, pulling up a chair.

"Great sword, that."

"Godric Gryffindor's own."

"Hey, really?"

"Yeah. I felt - well, it seemed somehow silly to be cutting a birthday cake with that. But Dumbledore produced it, so ..." He shrugged.

"Think what that sword might have seen!"

"And what it's been used for."

"I can tell you what it was used for last."

"What's that?"

"Killing a basilisk."

He'd never really told the story before. But Fred and George were Ginny's brothers. And so he told them of his encounter with the memory of Tom Riddle, the summoning of the basilisk, the fight with it, how Fawkes had saved his life, and how the diary had been destroyed.

"Not completely," Harry said, after a quarter of an hour's narration, "but it killed the memory."

"How did Ginny get the diary?" Fred asked quietly.

Harry looked at him with a slight smile. "Lucius Malfoy."

"What?" Both twins erupted at the same time.

"That's right. In Flourish and Blotts one morning."

"But what was she thinking of?"

"She was thinking that she was a rather lonely small girl in a big school, and here was something that took an interest in her." The twins fell silent. "No one's fault," said Harry. "Just a mean and nasty trick being played on her."

"Just as well Malfoy's in Azkaban ..."

"... or he'd have us to face."

"He's going to be in there for a long, long time," said Remus.

"Not long enough," said George.

"So that's why you need to be nice to Ginny," Harry told them.

"Yeah, well," mumbled Fred.

"Oh, dear, I do do it, don't I?"

"What's that?"

"Upset you two whenever you come visiting."

George shrugged. "Our shoulders are broad."

"Unlike our minds," added Fred.

"Fair enough. Hey, nice your dad's been promoted."

The twins brightened. "Yeah. Mum's really pleased."

"More money too. They need it."

"And talking of money, Remus ..."

"Yes?"

"We owe you."

Harry thought for a moment that Remus was going to protest, but then he took the bag of galleons that Fred was holding out.

"Right," said George, gathering up the bits and pieces that made up the game and scooping them into a box, "we'll take this away and set up for production."

"We'll be back with some stuff for you on Monday," added Fred.

"Sounds good," said Remus. "I like to be kept occupied."

"No problem with that."

"See you Monday," as the twins disappeared.

There was a minute or two's silence before Harry said ruefully, "Done it again."

"What?" asked Remus.

"Driven them off."

"Don't think you did, to be honest."

"But I wasn't a ray of sunshine."

"No, but you gave them a good story. I'd never heard all that either. Quite impressive."

"I suppose so."

Harry and Remus ate their supper in slightly less grand circumstances than the previous night, but the food was as good as ever. Any pangs of guilt Harry had over employing house elves disappeared as he tucked in.

After supper he went up to his room, intending to have an early night - a resolution he almost kept to. The trouble was that he woke early the next morning, and lay in bed knowing what was waiting for him. He took his time showering, getting dressed, going downstairs, munching his toast, reading the Daily Prophet. Even that didn't advance the day that much further, so he put on a coat and went out into the rather dingy streets for a walk. He had discovered a park nearby, and as he'd mentioned to Dean and Olive, several of the nearby streets had been 'discovered' by the young and upwardly mobile. Skips lined the pavements as houses were being gutted and gentrified. Well, it wouldn't affect him. He couldn't imagine showing a Muggle estate agent round Number Twelve.

He got back in time for some lunch - though he didn't have much appetite. He forced down what he could, then went upstairs to put something reasonably smart on. Finally, at half past two, he stood by the fireplace to Floo to the Ministry. He stumbled out of the fireplace at the other end wishing he'd chosen some other way of getting there, then straightened up and dusted himself down.

Then he had to walk up the security desk to state his business. "Appointment with the Minister of Magic, three o'clock."

He heard a muttered 'blimey!' as the guard realised who he was. Even so, his wand was still taken and checked, and he was given the obligatory visitor's badge. He declined the offer of an escort, saying he knew the way - which he did. Even so, getting into the lift, wearing a large badge which had 'HARRY POTTER' on it in large capital letters, was something of a nightmare.

Eventually he arrived at the Minister's office - or suite of offices. He checked his watch. It was five to three. Not too early, not too late. He knocked on the door, opened it, and saw the Minister's secretary poised behind her desk. She took in her visitor and her eyes brightened for a moment. Harry was getting a little more used this by now: he put on a cheerful smile (he knew that this was something he'd still have to work on), then said: "I think the Minister's expecting me." He didn't bother saying who he was.

"Of course. And since you're nicely on time, you can go straight through."

She pointed at a door which bore the inscription 'N. ARBUTHNOT. MINISTER'. Vaguely wondering what the N stood for, he knocked, then opened the door.

His first surprise was that Arbuthnot was not alone. The second surprise was who the other two were: Mr. Weasley and Professor Dumbledore.

He recovered enough to say: "Minister," then looking at his headmaster, "Professor," and then nodding to Mr Weasley.

"Harry!" cried Arbuthnot, standing up and holding out a hand.

Rather embarrassed, Harry walked across the room to the desk and shook hands with Arbuthnot. There was an empty chair which Arbuthnot waved at.

The new Minister gave him a moment or two to settle himself before saying: "Welcome to the Ministry. In view of what we shall be discussing, I thought it right that Professor Dumbledore should be here. Mr Weasley is here to take notes."

"Good."

Arbuthnot clasped his hands and leant forward across the desk. "I was glad to hear that you came away from your latest encounter not only unharmed, but with Lord Voldemort significantly weakened."

Harry smiled faintly. "So was I."

Arbuthnot returned the smile. "But there are one or two other matters which are worrying us. If you would, Professor ..."

Dumbledore looked Harry with a kindly smile. "Actually, Harry, it's not good news, I'm afraid." He picked up a folder and held it out to Harry.

"We're grateful that Professor Dumbledore keeps an eye on the Muggle world as well as the magical one," said Arbuthnot.

Harry picked up the folder and opened it. There were some cuttings from Muggle newspapers. He lifted out the top one and began reading.

"THE SUICIDE CAPITOL OF BRITAIN?

"The town of Kirkmanley can lay claim to being the suicide capitol of Britain, judging from latest figures. As many as six people have taken their lives by their own hand in the last few months.

"Kirkmanley is a small, closely knit community. Mrs Hamilton, the Mayor, said: 'The town has always been a happy and well adjusted community until the past three months or so, when it seems that a depression has set in over us.'

"Local doctors are baffled by the number of people who have come to them recently demanding tranquillisers. 'We hope this is only a passing phase," said Dr Cameron."

Harry put the cutting down, feeling sick. He looked at the others. "Does the same idea occur to you too?" he asked.

"What is that, Harry?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"Dementors."

The old man nodded. "Exactly. This isn't the only report. Other newspapers, other towns, same story."

"Where is Kirkmanley, anyway?"

"About twenty five miles from Hogwarts."

"Oh." Then it sank in. "Oh, no." He looked round to the solemn faces around him. "What are we doing about it?"

"Now?" asked Arbuthnot. "We've sent a team of Aurors in to clean the area."

"Now?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"My predecessor," said Arbuthnot delicately, "was not convinced by these reports."

"What? Oh," as Harry realised what Arbuthnot was saying.

"Hence the Wizengamot meeting," said Dumbledore. "It was felt that the previous administration was not taking matters ... seriously enough."

"Right." A lot of things suddenly became clear to Harry. "That's why ..."

"Yes," said Mr Weasley gently, also suggesting by the way he spoke that it wouldn't be too wise to pursue this further at the moment.

Harry thought about all this for the moment. "So we clear them out of this town," he said slowly, "but what's the longer term strategy?"

"An excellent question," said Arbuthnot. "That's what we wanted to discuss."

Harry gulped as the implications sunk in. Here was he, a schoolboy, and the Minister of Magic and his Headmaster were looking at him expectantly.

"I suppose," said Harry, thinking fast, "that it partly depends on whether the Dementors are acting on their own or in company with Voldemort."

Dumbledore beamed at him as if he had just answered a particularly difficult question in class. "Exactly."

"So how do we find that out?" Harry asked. They all looked expectantly at him. "Now look," he said, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to, "I don't have a hot line direct to Voldemort, you know."

"No," said Arbuthnot mildly, "but you're still the closest thing we have to that." Harry felt a moment of hot resentment at being thought of as some kind of Voldemort detector yet again. "And you have had more dealings with him then almost anyone alive - except, perhaps, your headmaster and the Death Eaters who are safely locked away."

Harry did have to smile at that. "Okay. But that doesn't mean to say I have any clue as to where he is now or what he's doing."

"I can appreciate that. We do have as many people on the ground as we can spare, trying to pick up whatever snippets we can. On the other hand, it does seem that the two of you are, shall we say, fairly closely linked. And you are the only person who's had any success tackling him."

"Okay, I'll give you that. But I've survived so far more by luck than judgment. Just happening by luck to make the right move at the right time. Or by being rescued by Professor Dumbledore."

"So?" asked Arbuthnot, raising his eyebrows.

"So," said Harry, "I think one of the best ways of improving my chances against him would be to improve my skills. I've been working on them as best I can, with a lot of help from various people. But that's not the same as working with people who really know what they're doing."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That I spend the rest of my holidays in the Ministry, shadowing various people - say, in the Auror department, learning what I can."

To his surprise, he could see Arbuthnot and Dumbledore nodding their agreement to this proposal.

"It would be useful if I had some sort of guide," Harry hinted.

Arbuthnot nodded again, then turned to Mr Weasley. "How about it, Arthur?"

The suggestion obviously took Mr Weasley by surprise. "Me?" he asked, in an astonished tone.

"Why not?" asked Arbuthnot. "It's only for a few weeks. And who better to liase between Harry and the Ministry?"

"Well, yes - if you're both happy with that idea?"

Both Harry and Arbuthnot nodded their agreement.

"One other thing," asked Harry, tentatively. Arbuthnot looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "Well," he went on, "I was wondering if ... well, if Ron and Hermione could join me."

A slight smile came over Arbuthnot's face. "I think that could be arranged."

Harry could see Dumbledore and Mr Weasley trying to hide similar smiles.

"We make a good team," he said, slightly defensively.

"I know," said Arbuthnot. "Just so long as the Ministry is left intact at the end of it all."

Harry returned his gaze. "Well, I dunno - when Ron gets a bit worked up ..."

"He'll have his father to look after him," said Arbuthnot.

Mr Weasley muttered something inaudible. Dumbledore smiled one of his enigmatic smiles again.

"Ok then," said Harry.

"You're living in Grimmauld Place now?" asked Arbuthnot. Harry nodded. "Is that safe?" Arbuthnot asked, turning to Dumbledore.

"Oh, I think so," said Dumbledore slowly. "Now he's adult, the charms and wards at his aunt and uncle's would be very much less effective. The Black family were very paranoid - the place is well protected. And those charms have been re-inforced by me and by others quite recently. The house has had a lot of dark magic in it - but a lot of that's been cleared out, and it's slowly losing its darker side. Having Harry and his friends there will certainly help with that."

Arbuthnot nodded. "Good. As you're as you're happy with the arrangement. So, Harry, when would you like to start?"

"Um, well, as soon as possible, really. But I'll arrange things with Mr Weasley."

"Good. Remember - if you want to talk to me, it can always be arranged. Things are different this time round. Voldemort's got almost no supporters left, and in the present climate, he's unlikely to gain many. Given what's happened to the rest of his gang, I don't think people will want to join him in a hurry. But he's still out there and he's still a menace. That's my number one priority, Harry. So anything you know or find out - anything at all - tell me at once."

"Yes, Minister."

Arbuthnot smiled faintly. "I'm still getting used to that. And I can't say I don't like it. But I hope both my door and my mind are still open to people."

Harry nodded. Arbuthnot looked across to Mr Weasley - obviously a hint of some sort, because Mr Weasley rose to his feet.

"I'll show you out," he said to Harry.

Harry stood up too. "Thank you, Minister."

Arbuthnot smiled but said nothing. Harry followed Mr Weasley out of the room.

"Well done, Harry," he said as they walked down the corridor.

"In what way?"

"That idea of shadowing people in the Ministry - a master stroke."

"Do you think Arbuthnot saw through it?"

"Oh, yes. Don't underestimate him, Harry. He's sharp, all right. He's got more done in three days than Fudge did in three months. But don't trust him either."

"Dumbledore's already told me that."

"Has he? Has he now? Well, of course, Dumbledore would have taught him as a boy."

"I suppose so," said Harry, momentarily surprised. "But then - who hasn't Dumbledore taught?"

"Not many of us," said Mr Weasley with a slight smile. He stopped. "Look, is it okay if Dumbledore and I call round this evening? Say nine o'clock? I'll bring Ron. You get in touch with Hermione?"

"Sounds good to me," said Harry, slightly taken aback.

"Arbuthnot and Dumbledore will probably be some time. I've got some other stuff to be getting on with."

"Busy now you've been promoted?"

"You've no idea. But it's worth it. Arbuthnot's a fireball compared with Fudge."

"Ok. I'll leave you to it."