The Interlude

Chapter 9: Raise What's Left of the Flag for Me

Harry and Ron took their time getting up the next morning. It wasn't something they'd intended to do, but it hadn't helped when the very first thing Harry heard after waking up was a drowsy sounding Ron asking Harry what he thought the Cannons' chances were.

Apparently, Ron had had a dream in which the Cannons' won the World Cup. Harry didn't think it was especially strange to dream about the Chudley Cannons while sleeping in Ron's room since nearly every surface was covered in something relating to the team, but they spent the next several minutes discussing Quidditch anyway.

Ron had even gotten out his copy of Unfogging the Future and was perusing the chapter on dreams with a hopeful expression when Hermione burst in without even bothering to knock.

"There's going to be a riot!" she exclaimed without preamble.

"Um," Harry stammered, caught off guard.

"Good morning?" Ron offered.

"There's no time for that," Hermione replied, walking over and gustily pulling off their covers, leaving Harry and Ron quite relieved that they were wearing pajamas. "This is exactly what we've been hoping wouldn't happen. The Muggle-borns are going to riot, then the Aurors will try and stop them, and the next thing we know its open war."

It seemed like Hermione had several waking hours on them, but Harry and Ron were catching up quickly in alertness.

"You read that in the newspaper?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"No," Hermione admitted.

"Hermione, you agreed not to," Harry groaned.

"I didn't," Hermione spat. "You lot told me not to, but if I hadn't gone and spied on the Muggle-borns we wouldn't even know that this riot was going to happen, much less when and where."

"But it was still a risky thing to do," Harry maintained.

"They welcomed me," Hermione hissed. "They thanked me for offering to help and said it meant a lot that a friend of yours supports their cause. They're not Death Eaters, and..." she seemed to be losing steam, "...and now I'm betraying their trust."

"You're doing this for them as much as anyone," Ron said, sitting up and pulling her down on his bed next to him.

"They don't know about the Aurors, do they?" Harry asked.

"They know the Aurors are likely to try and stop them eventually, but they don't know they've already been authorized to arrest suspicious Muggle-borns," Hermione sighed.

Harry and Ron looked at each other with identical horrified expressions as they realized something that seemed to have slipped by Hermione.

"Aren't you a suspicious Muggle-born now too?" Ron asked slowly.

Hermione faltered for a moment, then pressed cavalierly onward, "I imagine I always was. This is worth it."

"This is worth going to Azkaban?" Ron asked, eying her.

"I won't let it happen," Harry replied. "They will let you off with full apology if I have anything to say about it. Of course, I won't have much to say if I've already been chucked in Azkaban for trying to depose the Minister."

"Bloody useless," Ron muttered darkly, tossing Unfogging the Future to the ground in front of him and grabbing his wand off his desk. There was a soft pouf and the book disintegrated into a pile of small pieces of paper.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, sounding scandalized. "You just shredded a book!"

"It was divination," Ron replied. "I should have done that years ago."

"But still, y-"

All three of them paused and looked up at each other when they realized that something unexpected had just happened.

"Which one of you did that?" Ron asked quietly, placing his wand back on his desk with a shaking hand and a defeated expression.

"It wasn't me," Harry replied. Hermione merely shook her head, looking quite offended that he'd even suggest she was the one who harmed a book.

"But if you didn't," Ron said, suddenly sounding out of breath. "I mean, Fred and George aren't outside, are they?"

Harry suspected that they weren't, but he checked outside the door and the window anyway, feeling lighter every second. He caught Ron's questioning look and shook his head.

"I couldn't have done it," Ron maintained. "I'm a squib now."

"It was a spell that did that to you," Hermione replied, reaching over to retrieve is wand. "Maybe it finally wore off."

A determined look creeping across his face, Ron took his wand from Hermione and pointed it at the pile of confetti. A second later Unfogging the Future was whole. A second after that it had been shredded once again. Ron grinned. It seemed to grow wider and wider until the entire room was smiling with him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione started laughing next, suddenly unable to contain the cheery feeling that swept over them. Then Ron pulled Hermione into a kiss.

Harry's grin faltered as he looked away. Usually they were very careful not to behave like this in front of him, and, while he didn't especially mind the exception, he was feeling a bit left out. Still, they deserved this after everything.

Harry couldn't remember exactly when he'd decided not to tell Ron that he'd made a decision to leave his cursed best friend behind in favor of facing Voldemort and wondered if he ever did. He hadn't wanted to at first, worried that Ron might not be able to forgive him, but after awhile he'd realized that Ron deserved to know, no matter what it did to their friendship. However, it seemed that the time since the final battle had been filled with 'not yets,' moments too happy to besmear with such revelations or too terrible to add to, until the time for telling Ron had all but passed and Harry had grown rather used to the idea of keeping the information to himself.

Harry chanced another glance at Ron and Hermione, who were still happily snogging. Growing uncomfortable, Harry wondered if he ought to leave, but then his eyes fell on the remains of Unfogging the Future. Suspecting that Ron and Hermione wouldn't mind, Harry picked up a massive handful of the confetti and threw it over them. They broke apart, looking surprised at first, but then they saw Harry, armed with another handful, and they understood. Before long, Harry and Ron had started throwing fistfuls of confetti at each other an even Hermione joined in, despite her disapproval of ruined books. Within moments, every surface in Ron's room was covered in the bits of paper and more of it was stuck to their clothes and hair. As he watched Ron try and brush the confetti from Hermione's ample hair, Harry privately wondered if she'd ever be able to remove it all. He took off his glasses and watched as several blurry pieces of confetti that had been caught on them fluttered to the ground. When Harry put his glasses back on, he found Ron looking at him as though he'd just realized something.

"Did you know I couldn't do magic?" Ron asked in reply to Harry's questioning look.

"Oh...er...yes," Harry stuttered. He'd been so happy for Ron that he'd forgotten he wasn't supposed to know that his friend hadn't been able to do magic.

"I suppose you guessed," Ron sighed, looking downcast. "It must have been obvious. I'm surprised none of my family figured it out for themselves."

"Actually," Harry said, grateful to see Hermione nod subtly. "Hermione told me." Ron looked somewhat scandalized, so Harry hurried on with his explanation before he could get angry. "It was the morning after that night with the fireworks. She told me to convince me that she had to go to Diagon Alley and try to find a cure for you. Maybe I should have said something to you then, but you didn't seem to want anyone to know."

"Oh," Ron said slowly. "I probably should have just told you from the beginning anyway."

"It's alright," Harry replied. "And it doesn't matter now anyway."

"But still," Ron began.

"It's alright," Harry repeated firmly, feeling guiltier about withholding his own information by the second.

All at once, the happiness seemed to be drained from the room. Everything got darker, as though the sun had slipped behind a cloud, smiles faded, and the confetti ceased to be a mark of their fun and became a mess they'd have to clean up. At first, Harry thought it was just him, but it was clear from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces that their moment of bliss had faded, replaced by harsh reality.

"So, this riot," Harry prompted with a sigh.

"Diagon Alley in an hour or two," Hermione replied as she gave her wand a complicated wave and vanished the confetti from Ron's bed then turned to do the same to Harry's.

"And you're going to go with the Muggle-borns," Harry inferred, eying her sadly.

"You can't stop me," Hermione said stiffly.

"I know," Harry sighed.

"We should probably get ready," Ron offered, not looking at Hermione.

Hermione nodded and left so they could change, siphoning confetti from the ground as she went. Harry and Ron dressed in silence, barely even looking at each other until Harry glanced up from tying his shoe and saw Ron with his hand on the doorknob.

"Ron, wait a second," Harry said, abandoning his shoe and diving into his trunk. After a few seconds of searching he found what he'd been looking for and tossed it to Ron, which he soon realized wasn't the best idea because his invisibility cloak unfurled in flight, making it much harder to see, much less catch. However, after two years of playing Keeper, Ron could catch almost anything lobbed in his general direction.

"What do I need this for?" Ron asked, staring through his hand, which Harry assumed was holding the cloak. "Do you really think the Muggle-borns will come after me?"

"Actually, I thought, since Hermione is going to be with them, and it could be dangerous, you might want to-"

"Thanks mate," Ron said, cutting Harry off once he understood his meaning.

"Don't mention it," Harry replied, returning his attention to his shoe.

"What about you, though?" Ron pointed out.

"What I'm doing," Harry said, "invisibility won't help."

***************

"Excuse me," Harry said politely to a woman who happened to start browsing near him in Flourish and Blotts, "but-"

He was cut off by a squeak and a crash and cringed. It had only taken her three words to look up and recognize him, probably a new record. Then, of course, she had dropped her bag of beetle eyes in surprise, which burst open and now she was scrambling around the floor on her hands and knees trying to collect them, hindered by her shaking hands, which seemed to be refusing to grasp anything smaller than a book. Harry sighed and reached for his wand, paused, supposing that if he left now he might make a clean getaway, then berated himself, pulled out his wand, returned the beetle eyes to their bag with a single swish. Then, supposing he might as well do the thing properly, held out a hand to help her up. She took it and stood, looking at him as though he were a knight in shining armor come to whisk him away to his magical castle. Growing more uncomfortable with every passing second, Harry invented a previous engagement and excused himself.

Percy had said that Harry had the fame and influence to move people, but Harry was coming to believe that Percy had rather misjudged the nature of Harry's fame. It wasn't the sort where people yell at everyone around to be quiet, drop whatever they're doing, and hang on to his every word. It was the type where people squeak, drop whatever they're holding, and ask him to sign everything they can think of.

Harry had spoken to perhaps twenty people that day and achieved nothing except for an informal poll of what people think of him. Of those twenty, seven had shaken his hand and thanked him for defeating Voldemort, five had said they only reason they could sleep at night was because they knew he was out there protecting them, four had asked for autographs and pictures, three had simply stared at him in awe, and Harry was taken by surprise by the last one, who pulled a wand on him. Fortunately, on guard or off, Harry's reflexes were unmatched and he'd left his would be assailant to figure out how to get his wand off the roof of Gringotts. Harry tried not to wonder if this sort of thing would continue for the rest of his life.

After nearly on hour in Diagon Alley trying to start a conversation with anyone he could find, Harry still hadn't made any progress toward implementing Percy's plan. No one he'd spoken to had let him get much further than a greeting and Harry was starting to get worried. If Hermione's estimate was correct then the riot could start any minute and he still had no idea how he was going to keep things from getting violent. Seeking a place to think up a new plan, Harry wandered into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and was almost immediately accosted by one of the twins.

"Harry! What brings you to our humble shop?"

"Needed a place to think, Fred," Harry sighed.

"I'm George," he replied, sounding hurt.

"You're not," Harry replied dully

"Well spotted," Fred admitted. "But I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place entirely. There's absolutely no thinking allowed in here."

"It's better than out there," Harry said. "Everyone stands around and watches me; I think I even saw one bloke with a pair of omnioculars. I tripped over a loose cobblestone in front of Madame Malkin's and I'll bet its front page news tomorrow, along with fifty demands for that tile to be fixed. I can see it now, Boy Who Lived Nearly Felled by a Rock. Public in Uproar."

"Shouldn't have lent that cloak of yours to Ron, then, mate," Fred offered, patting Harry's shoulder.

"You've seen Ron?" Harry asked.

"Well, I didn't actually see him," Fred pointed out. "I think that might have been the point."

"Fine," Harry replied. "You've heard from Ron. Do you know about the riot?"

"Ron warned us," Fred said. "Do you need a few extra wands out there?"

"The plan isn't to fight them," Harry sighed. "Or the Aurors," he added, catching Fred's look. "And that's about as far as the plan gets, but somehow I have to keep things from getting out of hand and depose Scrimgeour."

Fred gaped at him for a moment. "That's ambitious."

"I know," Harry muttered.

"Well, you might want to plan a little faster," Fred added urgently, looking past Harry to the window.

Harry turned around and immediately knew what had caught Fred's attention: several angry looking people were walking past the window, shooting sparks into the air. Forcing down his fear and doubt, Harry nodded his farewell to Fred and stepped outside.

The mood on the street couldn't have been more different from when Harry left a few minutes previous. The cheery demeanor of the shoppers going about their business had evaporated. Hardened by two years of open war, most people had formed up into protective groups and slunk to the edge of the street to allow the swelling mass of protestors past. A collection of sparks was gathering above their heads, spelling out "Muggle-born rights!" "Blood's got nothing to do with it!" "We aren't Mudbloods!" and several other less polite phrases.

As Harry looked into the crowd he thought he caught a glimpse of a head of bushy hair, but then he blinked and he couldn't find her again.

The shouts of those in the mob grew steadily louder until some unseen hand picked up one of the tables from in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and sent it flying through the front window of Madam Malkin's. It was as though a dam had been broken. Before much longer there wasn't a table or chair standing in the area and most of the nearby windows had been broken. Harry had half a mind to remain where he was and defend Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but the sight of a side scuffle between five Muggle-borns and Florean Fortescue changed his mind: if he was going to have any hope of stopping this he would have to do it before things got too far out of hand. As though to prod him into action even faster, Harry felt a prickle on the back of his neck and found that an anti-Disapparation ward had been placed over the area. In all likelihood the Aurors had already arrived.

Ducking a spray of shattered glass, Harry raced forward into the fray, tapping his wand to his throat.

"Stop!" he shouted.

Amazingly, many people did stop as Harry's magically amplified voice echoed around them. Unfortunately, Harry had been correct in his guess about the Aurors, and they did not heed his command. Already several Muggle-borns on the edges of the mob had been stunned and tied in ropes as the Aurors approached from all possible sides.

"Everybody stop!" Harry yelled desperately, trying not to stutter when he heard his own voice echo back at him. "I am Harry Potter. I saved you from Voldemort and I'm about to save you from yourselves. You will listen to what I have to say."

Amazingly, Muggle-borns, shoppers, and Aurors alike all stopped what they were doing and turned to face him, and in that moment Harry became keenly aware that he had no idea what to say.

"Right then," Harry continued, stalling just long enough to think of a place to start.

"Look at yourselves. Three weeks ago we were all on the same side. Ending the war was supposed to put a stop to fighting, not encourage it to continue in a different way.

"Muggle-borns, the right's you're fighting for should have been given to you a long time ago, but if you insist on getting them through violence and fear then you are no better than Death Eaters. It might seem like taking up wands is the only way to achieve anything because that's all that's happened for the past two years, but that's not the only option. I mean, I got you lot to stand down just by asking you to.

"I think we've been fighting so long that we've forgotten that just because we don't know someone doesn't make them a Death Eater. The Ministry, for all its faults and forms and bureaucracies, is not made up of Death Eaters. It helped us through the war and it can help you now.

"Aurors, you ran in here, wands aloft, just the way you did during the final battle, but these aren't Death Eaters you're fighting. I imagine some of you were about to arrest your friends. I know how it goes, you had your orders, so you put friendship out of your mind and get on with it, but sometimes orders need to be questioned, and sometimes we need to question the source of those orders.

"I never supported Minister Scrimgeour's methods during the war, but even I have to admit that he helped us survive it. Still, what works in times of war can't always be counted upon in times of peace. There was almost an open conflict today because Scrimgeour ordered the Aurors to arrest the Muggle-borns, an order he made last night, before any of this began. That leads me to think that Scrimgeour might not be the best Minister for us anymore. We need someone willing to negotiate, who'll help the Muggle-borns get the rights they deserve, who'll help us remember what it's like to live in peace, who'll-"

Harry was interrupted by a loud chorus of applause and cheers that swept across the crowd, and he looked around, surprised. While he'd been speaking he'd half expected the Aurors to rush forward to arrest him, but instead the amount of people standing in Diagon Alley listening to him had a least doubled since the last time he'd looked around. All of a sudden, Ron and Hermione appeared next to him and Harry was so grateful to see them that he forgot to wish they'd taken off his cloak someplace less conspicuous. Hermione had tears in her eyes and Ron reached over and shook Harry's hand. Bolstered, Harry continued.

"I'm not sure how many people know this, but I'm a half-blood. My Father was pureblood. When Voldemort came to our door he died trying to give my Mum enough time to escape with me. My Mother was Muggle-born. She refused to step aside and let Voldemort kill me, even when he promised to let her live. She's the reason I didn't die when Voldemort cursed me. So you see, the blood doesn't matter. No matter who we are and who our parents were, we can achieve great things when we work together, when...when we love each other. We won a war; we stopped the most powerful Dark Lord in a century. Surely we can work through prejudices against Muggle-borns without lifting our wands. It might take awhile and it won't be easy, but all we need is to listen to each other, starting right now. And if we do, then...then we'll be alright. We just had a war, don't been so keen to start another one."

Harry's words were followed by cheers, the volume of which he had never heard before, but he couldn't look around to see just how many people he'd been speaking to because Hermione had clamped her arms around his neck and was hugging him so tightly that it was difficult to breathe.

"Percy was right," Hermione finally whispered as she pulled away.

"Thanks," Harry replied, turning to Ron, who also gave him a brief hug.

The crowd began to approach, hoping to shake his hand and thank him for helping everyone see reason. Harry did his best to humor them, but was more moved to see the Aurors apologizing as they freed the Muggle-borns they'd arrested. He had to look away, blinking rapidly when he caught a glimpse of a few Muggle-borns helping to repair the damage to Madame Malkin's.

Over the next few hours hundreds of witches and wizards helped repair the damage to the shops. The wizard at the post office said he'd never before seen so much demand for owls as people composed letters to the Minister, requesting his resignation.

Diagon Alley was repaired in a remarkably short amount of time, but most people didn't leave afterwards. Instead, they stayed to speak to people and get to know them. Hermione was only too eager to join in and even Ron looked a bit excited, but Harry was a bit hesitant. He knew how encounters like that usually went, but this time he was pleasantly surprised to discover that once people got over the shock of finding him talking to them, they were happy to talk back and even had some interesting things to share. Harry and Ron were deep in discussion with a former beater from the Holyhead Harpies who seemed to know everything about brooms when George came along and said that Mrs. Weasley had asked them to come back to the Burrow.

They excused themselves and went to find Hermione and were quite surprised to discover her in a heated but friendly conversation with Millicent Bulstrode. Harry didn't realize until that moment that, even though things wouldn't be easy, the worst of it was over and things would get better from here. He was very quiet during the Apparation home as he pondered that and was a bit delayed in realizing that Ginny had thrown her arms around his neck, but she was so excited and happy that she didn't even notice.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George stepped into the kitchen, where Percy, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and an elaborate feast were waiting for them. It must have been the third such meal they'd had in the past few weeks, but aside form being a pleasant way to celebrate, Harry was coming to realize that that it was Mrs. Weasley's way of thanking them.

The afternoon was largely uneventful. Fred and George returned to their shop after lunch and Harry, Ron, and Ginny started a spirited game of Quidditch up in the paddock. It ended abruptly when Ginny nearly fell off her broom in surprise at seeing Ron pull out his wand and summon the football they'd been using as a Quaffle after he dropped it. While she was telling him off for it, he realized that in the excitement of the morning he'd quite forgotten to track down the people who'd figured out he couldn't do magic and tell them he could again. After he left, Harry and Ginny agreed that there wasn't much point in a two man game of Quidditch so they returned to the Burrow as well.

Inside, they found an ecstatic looking Hermione wandering around with a parchment and quill in hand, reciting bits of Harry's speech that even he couldn't remember saying. Harry stopped her long enough to glance at the parchment and realize that she was making a list of things she'd like to see changed about the way Muggle-borns are treated.

While Harry was focused on Hermione, Ginny had been distracted by her mother, who came along bearing her Hogwarts letter. Ginny ripped it open, read it, and stayed only long enough to report that she was still Quidditch captain before racing up to her room, presumably to plan a strategy for the year. Hermione returned to her list, leaving Harry feeling a bit useless. He supposed that if he wanted to survive Auror training he'd have to do some study before it started, but the idea didn't appeal to him.

Harry briefly considered returning to Diagon Alley to see if there was anything left to be done there, or perhaps going to Hogsmeade, but he was stopped by an owl with a letter addressed to him in a hand he didn't recognize.

Curiously, Harry pulled out the letter. Aside from a Ministry of Magic seal and an unintelligible signature, there were only two words, "Well played." He still couldn't be sure, but now that he had a suspicion who had written this, Harry thought he could distinguish the signature: Rufus Scrimgeour.

Harry didn't quite realize what the letter meant until an hour later when the Evening Prophet arrived.

Mr. Weasley paid the owl but took one look at the paper and gave it immediately to Harry, who was playing exploding snap on the living room floor with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry glanced at the front page and was confronted with an image of himself, speaking desperately to an awestruck group of people in Diagon Alley. The headline read: "Harry Potter begs for an end to violence in Muggle-born dispute: Minister steps down."

Harry must have stared at that for a bit too long, because Hermione sighed and snatched the paper away from him before he'd quite managed to comprehend the second part of the headline. Harry, Ron, and Ginny knew from experience that Hermione would not be distracted while she was reading, so they shrugged and continued with the game until it got back around to her turn. Ginny leaned over to check the length of the article, which Harry vaguely remembered taking up the entire front page. She shook her head and they returned to the game, but it wasn't nearly as fun with only three people and before long they were throwing cards at each other instead. Hermione distracted them a few minutes later by suddenly bursting out laughing. It was somewhat unfortunate because Ginny had chosen the moment previous to expertly lob a card at Harry's nose and he was so surprised by Hermione's outburst that he wasn't quite quick enough to get out of the way and, naturally, the card exploded on impact.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, gingerly touching his nose.

Still smiling gleefully, Hermione laid down the paper in front of her, pointed to a spot a little over half way through the article, and read, "Scrimgeour's last act as Minister was to dismiss Chief Witch Dolores Umbridge from the Wizengamot."

"Scrimgeour fired Umbridge?" Ron asked happily. "Merlin, that's perfect!"

It all got funnier a few minutes later when an owl burst through an open window, carrying a bright red envelope with Harry's name on it.

Harry had never received a howler before and was a bit worried until he realized where he'd seen the flowery handwriting before. He looked up and saw that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny already had their hands over their ears. Ron nodded encouragingly at him, so Harry ripped open the envelope, tossed it on the floor in front of him, and covered his ears just fast enough to avoid hearing the full force of Umbridge's overly sweet voice.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

The family pictures above the fireplace rattled ominously and even though he had his ears covered it still felt to Harry as though she were speaking inside his brain and he was fairly certain that he could feel his eyeballs rattling in his sockets.

"YOU HAVE CROSSED THE LINE THIS TIME, BOY! WHAT YOU HAVE DONE IS NOTHING SHORT OF CRIMINAL AND I WILL NOT REST UNTIL I'M CERTAIN YOU WILL BE LOCKED IN SAINT MUNGO'S FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS, OR, BETTER YET, AZKABAN! I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE FROM THE START, NOW EVERYONE WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BELIEVE ME! YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny kept their hands over their ears a moment longer, just in case she wasn't finished yet, but it seemed that she was.

"Don't know if I've ever heard her that angry before," Ron said, a little louder than usual, cuffing himself in the side of the head as though that would stop his ears ringing.

"I wonder how she thinks she'll be able to toss me in Azkaban," Harry replied. "She didn't seem to realize that she wasn't Chief Witch anymore."

"Was that Dolores Umbridge?" Mr. Weasley asked suddenly.

They all turned around, Harry, Ron, and Hermione reaching automatically for their wands, and found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing over them. For a moment Harry wondered why he hadn't heard them come in, then his brain caught up with itself and he realized that for the past minute or so he hadn't been able to hear much of anything aside from Umbridge yelling at him.

"Yeah, it was," Harry concluded, releasing his wand in his pocket. "I suppose she's angry with me because Scrimgeour fired her as Chief Witch."

"Umbridge has been sacked?" Mr. Weasley asked at the same moment Ron said, "She's not just angry at you," then, for no particular reason at all, everyone started laughing at once.

Maybe because things finally looked like they might work out for the better, maybe because for once in the entire war something had gone right, but whatever the reason, once they'd started laughing they found it quite impossible to stop. There was freedom in laughter, and now that they'd fought for it for years they weren't about to give it up.

Eventually, however, they had to stop lest they suffocate, and Mrs. Weasley informed them that dinner was nearly ready while dabbing at her eyes with her apron.

Since they'd had a veritable feast for lunch, dinner was a much simpler affair, but Fred, George, and even Percy showed up to enjoy it with them. At Hermione's request, Percy took a few minutes to explain how a new Minister would be appointed. He said that Griselda Marchbanks had been elected temporary Chief Witch and over the next few days the Wizengamot would take nominations for the Minister, requests of the Ministry departments, and opinions of the Wizarding community, then they'd have seven days to deliberate and agree on the next Minister. Then Percy took a sip of his pumpkin juice and turned into a rather confused looking dragonfly.

Over the years, Fred and George had perfected the art of looking innocent when things like this happened, but one didn't have to know them for very long to know that only they could be responsible. Mrs. Weasley looked ready to leap over the table and throttle the both of them and Percy started buzzing angrily around their heads. However, when the spell wore off and Percy returned to his chair it wasn't anger etched across his features. Instead, he was smiling slightly and blinking rapidly, and Harry thought he understood why. Fred and George performed pranks against many people for many reasons, but that time Harry could tell it hadn't been in spite, it was more friendly, like something one brother would do to another. One glance between Ron, Fred, George, and Percy confirmed it. Whatever Ron said Percy sill had to prove three weeks ago, he'd proved it, and more.

***************

They rarely saw Hermione over the next few days. She was spending her time with the other Muggle-borns, drafting a list of concerns and workable compromises that they'd present to the Minister as soon as he or she was appointed. All of magical England seemed to be holding its breath for the Wizengamot's decision. The Daily Prophet even stopped their gossip about Harry in favor of running articles about the nominees for Minister and the Wizengamot's deliberations.

Finally, on the last of Percy's promised seven days, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network while eating dinner when a Celestina Warbeck song was interrupted by an official sounding wizard who said the Wizengamot had reached a decision and Marius Randall, formerly of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, was the new Minister of Magic. The announcer added that Randall was the first half-blood Minister of Magic in the history of England before allowing the song to continue.

Hermione was on her feet almost immediately. She darted to the pile of articles about the nominees that she'd been keeping, located the one on Randall, skimmed it, then passed it around the table. When the article got to Harry, he had to agree that Randall seemed like a good choice for the job.

Hermione spent the next few days in something of an excited frenzy and Harry and the Weasleys tried to help her however they could, even if it was just listening while she practiced the speech she was going to give the Wizengamot or reminding her that she still needed to eat and sleep sometimes.

Through it all, something wasn't sitting well with Harry, like he'd forgotten something rather important. It was nearly a week before he realized what it was.

"Mr. Weasley, could I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asked that night after dinner.

Mr. Weasley agreed readily and invited Harry out into the garden with him.

It was nearly night, and Harry could barely see a curious gnome come out to greet them. Mr. Weasley knelt down to scratch its head, but it snapped at his fingers when he tried.

Harry must have remained quiet for a bit too long, because Mr. Weasley straightened up, and pulled something out of his pocket. "I wonder if you could tell me what this is."

Caught off guard, Harry took the thing and studied it in the fading light. "It's a remote control," he replied automatically.

"I see," Mr. Weasley said excitedly. "And what does it do?"

"Muggles use it to change the channel on the television," Harry explained, "so they can watch something different," he added, catching Mr. Weasley's uncomprehending look. "You won't be able to see it doing anything unless you have the television that goes with it."

"But it's like a wand that runs off eceltricity?" Mr. Weasley asked, sounded elated.

"I suppose," Harry replied. "It runs off batteries." He pulled the cover off the back and showed Mr. Weasley the batteries arranged there.

"Fascinating!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, taking the remote control and holding it up to the remaining light for inspection.

"I was wondering if you'd heard anything about Tonks," Harry said suddenly, wishing he could have found a kinder way to broach the topic.

Mr. Weasley's shoulders slumped as he looked at Harry and returned the remote control to his pocket.

"I haven't," he replied.

"But it's been over a month, now," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "If she was still alive wouldn't she have told someone by now?"

"That is the popular opinion," Mr. Weasley sighed.

"Alright," Harry replied. "That's all I wanted to know."

Harry turned to the back door, but he only made it a few steps before Mr. Weasley called him back.

"That was a great thing you did, Harry."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Harry replied without turning around.

So Tonks was really gone, then. There was no avoiding it any longer, no more making sorry explanations of shifting it aside in favor of more pressing matters. It had been over a month since that battle. Even if she was captured as a Death Eater that was time enough to convince someone that she was really an Auror. Even if she was lost and hurt it was long enough for her to find her way back. And yet Harry found it impossible to resolve his memory of Tonks with the idea that she could be buried somewhere, still wearing the face of a nameless Death Eater. Even at her worst, when she was pining after Lupin, she was still so alive. Harry half expected to turn around and see her burst through the door, trip over the nearest chair, change her hair to a newly invented color, and greet him with her trademark, "Wotcher!" Unable to help himself, Harry even paused on the bottom step on his way up to Ron's room and turned back to the kitchen, but it wasn't the kitchen he saw.

"Five," Harry whispered, turning back to Ron and Hermione. The harsh voices of the Death Eaters were filtering down the stairs and around the corner to where they were standing, huddled awkwardly underneath the invisibility cloak on the third floor of Hogwarts.

"We can't go around," Hermione point out desperately, "all the other secret passageways are guarded as well."

"We'll just have to fight them," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione nodded gamely.

Bunching together, they crept out from behind their cover and made their way as far up the staircase as they could without alerting the Death Eaters, then, after a silent count of three, Hermione whipped the invisibility cloak off of them and Harry and Ron leapt at the Death Eaters, with Hermione following shortly afterward. However, something happened that they did not expect. One of the Death Eaters, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange only without the maniacal look in her eye, took one look at them and immediately cursed one of the other Death Eaters. He crumpled into a heap and rolled down the stairs.

A year ago, Harry, Ron, and Hermione might have shown their surprise, dropped their guard, and lost the battle, but their time searching out the Horcruxes had taught them to use any advantage they could and sort out where it came from later.

"Get out of here!" the woman yelled as she dueled with another Death Eater.

Ron and Hermione needed no second bidding and they dragged Harry along with them as they made their way up the stairs.

"Why did she do that?" Harry gasped as soon as they were safely on the next floor and underneath the invisibility cloak. "Betray the other Death Eaters, like that?"

"It was Tonks," Ron replied matter of factly.

"It was?" Harry demanded.

"It's the only explanation," Hermione agreed.

"She got one and I got one," Harry said quickly. "Did either of you get your Death Eaters?"

"Not quite," Ron admitted. Hermione simply shook her head.

"Then she's outnumbered down there," Harry exclaimed, and he would have slipped out from under the invisibility cloak and rejoined the fight if Ron and Hermione hadn't stopped him.

"She's an Auror, she can handle herself," Ron replied.

"We're right here, we can help her," Harry pointed out.

"She told us to go," Hermione said. "We're wasting time arguing about this. We need to focus on getting the Marauder's Map so we can find Voldemort."

His eyes refocusing abruptly, Harry was quite surprised to find himself leaning heavily against the wall, still on the bottom step of the long, winding staircase in the Burrow.

Slowly, Harry made his way up the stairs, scratching the back of his head in a confused sort of way. When he reached the landing in front of Ginny's room, he considered stopping to talk with her, but in the end he passed it by and continued upwards. He and Ginny had spoken many times since he gave his speech in Diagon Alley, but she hadn't yet brought up the subject of their relationship. The entire situation reminded Harry something of his fifth year, and he wasn't sure whether or not he ought to thank Ginny for it.

Ron wasn't in his room when Harry arrived, and it was a bit early for going to bed, but Harry shrugged out of his clothes and into his pajamas then got under the covers anyway. He laid awake for awhile, contemplating wild and daring ways to rescue Tonks, or at least find out what happened to her, but eventually sleep overtook him.

Cold.

That was what woke Harry, but it was the unforgiving floor and the stiffness in his bound limbs that kept him that way. His glasses had been knocked askew and he awkwardly replaced them even though there was nothing much to see, the room was nearly dark. However, he could sense someone moving around in the shadows.

"So nice of you to join me."

"Voldemort!" Harry yelped as he realized the identity of his company.

"We really must stop meeting like this," Voldemort hissed. "I'll have to see what I can do about it."

"If you're going to kill me at least make a proper duel of it," Harry suggested desperately. "Only a coward would kill someone who can't fight ba-"

But it was no use. A bolt of red light erupted from somewhere in the shadows. It shot straight towards Harry and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Harry sat bolt upright and nearly cried out in surprise when his cot emitted a complaining groan at the change in weight. He lifted a shaking hand to his forehead and discovered both to be covered in cold sweat.

A full moon that would never haunt Professor Lupin again was partially visible at the edge of window and Harry could hear rather than see Ron snoring gently across the room, untroubled by the nightmares that plagued Harry.

Heart still beating faster than usual, Harry lay back down and tried to clear the memory from his mind. Still, he knew that this wasn't the first time he'd been visited by such a nightmare, and it wouldn't be the last.