To See A Falling Star

I'm a Lumberjack

By Lady FoxFire

September 11, 2004

It was exactly one week after the Daily Prophet published a Special Edition on the sale of Harry Potter when Professor McGonagall escorted two gentlemen into the Headmaster's office.

The first was a tall, lean young man with sandy brown hair with an air of nervous energy, as if he was there for chastisement. The other man was nothing like the first. He was a squat little man with dirty grey hair that he grown long to hide his bald spot. He wore a wrinkled suit that all but screamed government employee.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the shorter of the two men said with an air of self-importance, "I'm Marlin Heath, representative for the Ministry for the sale of one Harry James Potter."

"Hi, I'm Alex O'Connell," the young man greeted cheerfully. "I'm from the Daily Prophet."

"Lovely," a young voice said from chair, a huge black dog seating at the person's feet, "another reporter. As if they haven't screwed up me life enough."

"What is he doing here?" Mr. Heath snarled as he glared at Harry Potter.

"Having tea," Harry said simply taking a sip from the cup in his hand. The animal at his feet snort as if to laugh.

"Harry Potter," the young reporter exclaimed with awe as he rubbed his hand down this pants leg before thrusting it out to shake the young hero's hand. "It's a honor to meet you!"

The massive dog raised to his feet and using it's nose nudged Harry's hand so that he would reach out towards the other man.

Grasping Harry's outstretched hand; O'Connell viscously shook it, talking endlessly as he did. "No one will ever believe I've met the Harry Potter. I mean this was to be just simple report. Nobody wanted to do it so they assigned me to it, since I'm the newest member of the staff. I was to simply go in, get the info and out again. I never thought I would have the chance to meet you. Do you think I could get your autograph or maybe an interview?"

"Ahh... well..." Harry stumbled for an answer.

A loud snort came from Heath. "You can beg for an interview from his new owners after he's been sold."

"Actually, an interview might be a good idea," Harry said with a smirk on his face. "It would give me the chance to let the wizard community know about my feelings on what's going on, about the Ministry's incompetence. How the Ministry allowed my uncle to destroy my sight."

Alex's eyes grew wide, either from Harry's words or from the fact he was going to interview the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I forbid it!" Heath's face turning red as he sputtered at Harry's words.

"I don't believe that's with in your power to do so," Dumbledore intervened in a voice that sent shivers through everyone who heard it. "As Harry's current legal guardian, I see no reason why I shouldn't allow him to give an interview, if he so wishes it. Now, shall we get to business?"

The Ministry official glared at the Headmaster and at Harry who smiled smugly in the direction of him. "Fine," Heath spat through clenched teeth as he sat down in the chair farthest from Harry and Dumbledore. "Let's conclude our business so you can let the little boy have his interview."

A sweet grandfatherly type smile appeared on Dumbledore's face as he pulled out a folder from his desk. "In the event of my death or indisposition, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall will assume my role as legal guardian of Harry Potter. She will also assume all my role concerning Le sang de Magie." Dumbledore shuffled the papers in his hands. "Now, concerning the conditions of the Le sang de Magie, the bidding will begin one week from today at precisely nine in the morning. Bidding will be accepted for a period of no less than one year and no longer than five years."

The muscles in Heath's neck tightened as he listened to the Headmaster's words. O'Connell's quill busily scratched across the parchment. "I believe that your time limit is a bit excessive," Heath stated as his eyes narrowed. "Minister Fudge wanted this concluded before the end of term."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the Ministry representative's statement. "I see," he replied as he looked down at the paper. "However, I believe that it will take a longer period of time for us to find a suitable family for Mr. Potter. After all, we don't want the public crying that the sale was unfair or heaven forbid, rigged. "

"No," Heath said through clutched teeth. "We wouldn't want that."

"Of course not," Dumbledore said with a small smile as he turned his attention back to business. "Bidders may only place one bid once every seven days. Couples will be treated as a single bidder and no multi-owners or group bids are allowed."

"Sir?" O'Connell spoke up as he stopped his note taking. "Does that mean families can't place bids? If my parents bid does that mean me and my brother and sisters can't bid?"

"That's a very good question, Alex," Dumbledore said in a kindly old school teacher voice. "This rule simply states that a group of people may not come together and pool their money in the hope of winning. It does not stop family members from bidding against one another."

O'Connell nodded his head in understanding before quickly writing down what Dumbledore had just explained.

"Shall we continue?" Dumbledore asked after taking a sip from his teacup.

"Yes, shall we?" Heath said in a bitter tone, his lip curled back in a snarl. "Unlike others, I have important things to do and places to be."

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said as he lifted the page over. "All bids will be placed anonymously, and each Sunday, the Daily Prophet will publish the top hundred bids. Furthermore, the amount of each bid will be transferred from the bidder's account into a special account till the end of the auction."

"Umm, excuse me, Headmaster," O'Connell spoke up nervously as he interrupted the Headmaster once again. "Why are you having the money transferred at this time? I mean, I thought that was something that happened at the end. What will happen if the bidder suddenly needs the money say for an emergency?"

"Another excellent question, young Alex, I'm pleased that you brought that up," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You must understand that in the past, it was not uncommon for the winner suddenly to have no funds to cover the winning bid, though they may still demand their winnings. By requiring the amount now, I am assuring that all parties will be satisfied at the conclusion of the auction. As for your other question, if necessary, the bidder can withdraw from the bidding process at any time. They may later re-enter the auction once they have the necessary funds, and once they have explained their reason for their sudden need to my satisfaction."

"What!" Heath asked in outrage. "Why should they have to explain why they are withdrawing?"

"Because I demand it," Dumbledore said in a tone, which cause those to hear it to shiver. "That is why they will explain it. And if I don't like their reason, they will not be permitted to re-enter the auction."

"There will be many who will object to your rules," Heath explained as if he was telling something to a simple child. "They'll demand that the Ministry do something."

"That is the Ministry's problem, not mine," Dumbledore said in a little smug tone. "Did I explain everything to your satisfaction, Alex?" Dumbledore asked as he turned his attention to the young reporter.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Alex said as he finished written his notes.

"And the minimum bid?" Heath snarled as he looked at his pocket watch. "I would suggest five hundred galleons with increments of fifty."

Dumbledore raised and eyebrow at the amount Heath suggested, a low dangerous growl emanated from the dog at Potter's feet.

"I had another amount in mind," the Headmaster said, his eyes narrowing as he stared the Ministry official. "Bidding will start at two hundred fifty thousand galleons, and will be increased in increments of a five thousand galleons."

Heath sputtered in shock. "That's outrageous! The brat isn't worth that much! In the whole history of Le sang de Magie, no one has every sold for such an amount!"

"And no one has ever survived the Killing Curse before," Harry said smugly

His face grew red as Heath pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. "The Ministry won't stand for this! We demand you change the conditions of the sale!"

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the Ministry representative, making the man squirm in his chair. "While the Ministry may be unwilling to enforce this archaic law, it does not mean that they have the power to dictate how this auction will be handled."

After watching Heath squirm for a few minutes Dumbledore leaned forward and continued on. "Now where was I... Ah yes, I will conclude the sale when I have determined that there will be no more bids being placed or when no new bidder has entered the top fifty bids. At that time, I will end the auction and, I will choose from the ten highest bidders, the candidate who would best be able to care for and protect Mr. Potter. If none of them meet the requirements, I will choose from the next ten."

O'Connell raised his hand nervously, "Ah sir? Isn't this going against the rules of Le sang de Magie?"

The Headmaster smiled kindly at the young reporter. "The whole point of the Le sang de Magie is to find a family that would be able to care for and protect the injured party, not to make a profit off of another's disability."

The sound of teeth grinding could be heard from Heath. "Was there anything else Headmaster?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Let's see," Dumbledore said in a thoughtful tone as he tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner. "I can't think of anything. Can you, Harry?"

"A number of my fellow Gryffindors wanted to know if Muggleborns could bid, sir," Harry said as he ran his fingers through the black dog's fur.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, "the bidding is not limited to pureblood families. Any witch or wizard may place a bid, if they have the funds."

Standing up and straightening his suit, Heath stared down at Dumbledore and Harry with contempt as O'Connell busily finish his notes. "Was that everything?"

"Yes, I believe so," Dumbledore said as he stood up. "Now, why don't I show you out, while Young Mr. Potter and O'Connell have their interview?" Dumbledore walked to the office door and held it open for Heath as the Headmaster wordlessly implied a clear message of 'get out.'

The Daily Prophet reporter watched the headmaster and the Ministry representative leave the office, leaving him alone with the Boy-Who-Lived and the grim-like dog. Swallowing nervously, O'Connell turned his attention to Harry.

Dragging his chair closer to the boy, Alex opened his mouth to ask a question, only to shut it with a click of his teeth. He gulped, opened his mouth once again, and shut it without making a sound.

Harry chuckled softly, "I promise I won't bite, and neither will Snuffles, unless you get him mad."

Alex blushed as he chewed on his bottom lip in embarrassment. "Right. It's just... well... Umm," Alex O'Connell licked his lips nervously. "I've never interviewed anyone before...I mean any one important. I wasn't really expecting it, expecting a chance to interview you!"

Harry shook his head in amusement. "I'm no one important. It was my mum who defeated old Molywort, not me."

Alex started to choke on his own spit when he heard Harry's name for the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "Molywort!"

"Hmm yes. It was either that or Moldynappy." Harry chuckled. "What would you like to know?" His hand reaching out for his dog, which placed his head in his master's lap.

"Right. Umm yeah. Well... I guess the entire wizard world would like to know about your accident. You know, the one that took your sight." Alex said nervously

"There was no accident." Harry's voice becoming bitter and hard. "My uncle destroyed my sight on purpose," Harry stated calmly before proceed to tell his tale.

O'Connell's face grew paler and paler as Harry related in terrible detail his life at the hands of his uncle. "But... But... Why? How? Why didn't anyone stop this!"

"You should be asking those questions to the Ministry and my relatives," Harry said with a shrug.

O'Connell nodded in shock. "Of course. They'll probably be answered during the trial."

"There won't be a trial." Harry said calmly. "The Ministry refused to accept the charges I had asked the Headmaster to file on my behalf. The Ministry is refusing even to investigate my charges."

"But why? Why won't they?" O'Connell asked in outrage. "I mean, what you're claiming is a serious accusation. I'm surprised that they're not even willing to investigate."

"Maybe they're trying to cover something up," Harry offered. "They are not willing to investigate my charges. Then, they suddenly revive an ancient law, one that hasn't been used in centuries. Then, add in the fact the Minster Fudge wants this matter settle quickly, and what do we get?"

"A political cover-up of the highest order," O'Connell said grimly.

Harry nodded his head in agreement. "Now, the next question is how far back this cover-up goes. Could it go as far back as the war? Could Death Eaters have been freed while innocent men and women were sent to prisons without trial?"

Alex's breath became ragged. "Do you have any proof of this?"

Harry leaned forward in his chair. "I do."

O'Connell closed his eyes. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" he said in a panicked voice. "Harry, I'm not a reporter. I mean I am but... shit, this was my first professional job. I... I... I don't know what to do."

"If I give you the information, will you look at it, quietly?' Harry asked.

"I can't promise you anything," O'Connell stated.

"I'm not asking you to," Harry replied.

"Ok." O'Connell took a couple of deep calming breaths. "Umm...I think it might be best if we left this subject for now." Harry nodded his head in understanding. "Ah... Ok... Umm...What is your feeling about Le sang de Magie?"

"I fear for the wizarding community," Harry said simply.

"Let me get this straight," Alex said in confusion, "You fear for the wizard community?"

Harry nodded his head. "In the Muggle world, a person like me is just handicapped, but in the wizard world, I cease be a person--I am now looked upon as mere breeding stock. Breeding stock sold to the highest bidder and then passed along to others like a common whore. If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone, no matter how rich or poor that person may be. It could be something as simple as losing you thumb on you wand hand, or losing the power of speech--you just became a non-person fit to be sold at auction.

"As long as that's law is in the book, there will be more people sold."

~*~

"You willingly gave a reporter an interview?" Ron said in disbelief, his fork raised halfway to his mouth forgotten.

Harry carefully reached his glass of pumpkin juice. "Yes Ron," Harry said with a sigh for the thirteenth time.

"But... but why?" Ron stammered. "You remember what happened last time."

"I know Ron, but Alex....he was different. He's nothing like Skeeter," Harry tried to explain.

"But he's a reporter!" Ron explained drawing the attention of other students who were enjoying their dinner.

"Ronald, I suggest you drop the subject," Ginny growled at her brother, her steak knife pointed threatly at him.

Ron gulped noisily as he nodded his head; his eyes never straying from the knife his little sister was willing.

"And here I thought food was the only way to shut him up," Hermione said, never looking up from the book of wizard law she was reading.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" Harry said, confusion evident in his voice.

"Nothing to worry about," Ginny stated as she patted Harry's arm reassuringly as she gave her brother the evil eye.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about, "Ron said as he tried to shrink in on himself, his eyes on the knife his sister was welding. "Just another boring dinner at Hogwarts. Nothing at all going on."

As Ron finished his sentence, there was a disturbance at the Slytherin table as Draco suddenly jumped up onto the table, his schools robes changed into a rough plaid, long-sleeved shirt, heavy denim pants and work boots covered in dried mud. The Great Hall grew silent as they started at Malfoy in wonder. With a smile that reminded the older students of Lockhart, Draco began to sing.

I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay.
I sleep all night. I work all day.

Goyle and Crabbe suddenly stood up; their clothes changing in the stiff high neck uniform one pictures when someone mentions the Canadian Mounties. They looked up at Malfoy as he smiles upon the sea of faces. Crabbe and Goyle opened their mouths and started to sing.

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

"Oh sweet Merlin! It's Monty Python!" Someone exclaimed with a chuckled. Giggles could be heard from many of the Muggle born witches and wizards as those raised in the wizard community looked on in confusion.

Draco placed his fists on his hips and thrusted out his chest as he started to sing again.

I cut down trees. I eat my lunch.
I go to the lavatory.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.

Crabbe and Goyle once again picked up the song:

He cuts down trees. He eats his lunch.
He goes to the lavatory.
On Wednesdays he goes shopping
And has buttered scones for tea.

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

Draco said to skip down the table, knocking over goblets and splashing his fellow Slytherins with food and drink.

I cut down trees. I skip and jump.
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing
And hang around in bars.

Crabbe and Goyle stood shoulder to shoulder, their face glowing with pride as they sung:

He cuts down trees. He skips and jumps.
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around in bars?!

Their brows furrowed in confusion for just a moment before they started with the chorus.

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

Draco stopped skipping when he reached the end of the table. There he turned and smiled once again at those gathered in the Great Hall.

I cut down trees. I wear high heels,
Suspendies, and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie,
Just like my dear Papa

Crabbe and Goyle began to sing again.

He cuts down trees. He wears high heels,
Suspendies, and a bra?!

As those words were sung, a series of pops echoed across the Great Hall so followed by a number of girly screams from the male members of the House of Slytherin.

Every male member of Slytherin was wear woman's panties and bra in a while range of colors and styles. But the men weren't the only ones affected; the girls grew hand bar mustaches. And for those with low cut robe, thick chest hair could be seen.

Even the head of Slytherin was affected. Professor Snape was now dressed only in Slytherin-green thong panties and spaghetti strap bra. The bra barely covered what could only be described as a 'huge set of knockers.'

"WEASLEY!"

"It wasn't us!" the twin on the left side of the table said as he stared at Snape's massive breasts.

"But I wish it was," the twin on the right stated with awe in his voice.

"Are you to tell me you had nothing to do with... with this!" Snape sputtered.

The Weasley twins slowly shock their heads.

Snape's head snapped back in shock. Slowly the man looked across the sea of students, trying to find the guilty party. Snape's eyes narrowed, his lips pulled back in a grimace "Black!" he hissed softly with realization. "Potter!" he bellowed as he stared at the boy and his dog.

"Sir?" Harry replied his confusion evident in his voice.

"You did this!" Snape shouted across the hall as he waved an arm towards his students.

"Did what, sir?" Harry asked as he pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his sightless eyes.

"It is impossible for Potter to have done this," Professor McGonagall said from her chair down the table. "The child has been with Prefects and teachers or in the his common room the whole day."

"And for the record sir, me and Snuffles..." Harry started to say.

"Snuffles and I," Hermione corrected.

Harry sighed. "Snuffles and I have been together the whole time. After the incident with Professor Trelawney, the Headmaster made me promise to take Snuffles everywhere. So, it's impossible for us to have pulled off whatever just happened."

Snape stared at Harry and his dog. His mouth opened. And closed. And opened again. And shut again. All without a sound coming out of it. Slowly Snape turned towards Remus. "You!" he said pointing his finger at his fellow teacher.

Professor Remus raised an eyebrow at Snape's accusation. "Use you head, Severus. I'm much too mature for such childish pranks," Remus said as he tried to keep from smiling. "Besides, when would I have time? If I'm not teaching, I'm with the Headmaster. I don't have the time to pull off such a prank that a Marauder would have envied."

"Severus, dear," Madam Hooch nodded to his chest, "you might want to tuck yourself back in before you fall out completely."

Snape let out a girlish squeak as his arms flew up to cover his breast.

With his arms crossed over his breast Snape fled the Great Hall followed by the Slytherin students in a mad rush.

"Could someone tell me what I missed?" Harry asked.

~*~

The cloaked figure kneeled in front of the Dark lord, her arms crossed over her chest as the figure bowed even farther.

Voldemort gazed at the kneeling figure, yet his eyes had a far away look as if he did not really see his loyal servant. Many minutes passed as both figures remained unmoving, before finally, the cracking of a log in fireplace as it broke up into hot coals snapped the Dark Lord out of his thoughts.

Straightening out of his slumped position, Voldemort turned his attention to the figure. "Arise," Voldemort commanded in a powerful voice.

As the figure arose from the kneeling position, the movement of the figure's robe betrayed a shapely leg and short skirt.

"Do you know why I have summoned you?" Voldemort asked

"No, my Lord," the figure answered in a voice of a young woman.

"I have a job for you, my dark butterfly." If a snake could purr, it would sound exactly like the Dark Lord as he said those words.

"I am yours to command, my Lord," the cloaked woman said with a bow of her head.

"I want you to get close to Potter, make him trust you, even love you if possible," Voldemort said leaning forward in his throne. "And if Malfoy's plan fails--undoubtedly, it will--I want you to bring the boy to me, in one piece if possible."