The Staff of Orkney

Chapter IX

Oh, Fudge!

 

“Malfoy!” Ron exclaimed. “I cannot believe he did that to you.”

“Did any of the professors do anything?” Harry had been so overwhelmed by all that he had found out, that he had completely forgotten how he had gotten into that whole mess to begin with. Ron reminded him that night at dinner.

“McGonagall gave him detention with Filch for a month.”

“He should have been expelled,” Hermione pointed out. “He could have killed you, Harry.”

“Harry thought about it. With all that happened, he found it hard to think about Malfoy at the moment. It seemed almost too petty. “LeSal was hurt pretty bad,” said Harry at last. “And it was Malfoy’s fault that he had to catch me. I don’t think LeSal is going to let him get away with all that.”

Hermione had forced Ron not to ask about what had happened unless Harry offered to give the information first. However, he was so eager to know, that he blurted out. “What happened with Professor LeSal? Why did your scar hurt around him? He’s not another Quirrell, is he?”

Angrily, Hermione tugged on Ron’s sleeve and hissed something in his ear.

Harry was about to explain, but there were too many people around. “I’ll explain it to you tonight,” he promised.

The awkward silence that followed in which they all just chewed their food was gratefully broken by Fred and George: “We’re going to get him for you, Harry,” they said together, pushing Neville aside as they attempted to sit closer.

Harry guessed what they were talking about. “As much as I’d like to see Malfoy get creamed, I don’t want you getting into too much trouble. It’s your last year and I don’t think your mum or dad would appreciate you getting expelled.”

“What?” They stared at him, dumbfounded. Students were already leaving the table and Harry was about to leave too but they just pulled him back down in his seat. “What’s with you, Potter? We’re offering to take revenge on Malfoy and you’re just worried about us getting into trouble? Were you badly hurt out there? Bump your head, maybe?”

“No, I didn’t bump my head,” Harry said irritably. His head did hurt. The event had caused him to have quite a severe headache. “I just think that you ought to sit back and wait to see what LeSal does to him first before you get yourselves into trouble,” he explained.

“Ah, yes,” George said, slapping his hand down on his knee. “I remember. How could I forget? He mentioned corporal punishment.”

“Still sounds too good for Malfoy,” Fred put in.

Harry was not in the mood and he stood up once again.

“Okay, Harry. We’ll see, but what if he doesn’t do anything?”

Harry let out a sigh. “Do what you want. But I’ve got a headache and need to see Madam Pomfrey.”

* * * * *

On Monday morning, Harry’s head was clearer and the students had lost much of their interest in what had happened that Saturday. Ron had gone back to avoiding Harry like the plague and seemed to be even more cantankerous as they approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The door was closed and the class stood waiting in the hall.

“We didn’t have a test today?” said Hermione, frantically thinking of another reason to explain why the other class would still be in the room.

“Hush!”

They looked over and saw a handful of students with their ears against the door. Harry immediately ran to join them. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one student in there, and the prof is chewing him out.”

Harry found a spot to place his ear and to his delight, he believed that he heard Malfoy’s voice, but LeSal continued before he could be sure, “Do you ever think? Do you ever stop and consider the consequences of your actions?”

“But you don’t know how much Potter gets away with!” It was Malfoy.

“We’re not talking about him! It’s you that you need to concern yourself with at this moment.”

“My father…”

“Your father, your father…oh, grow up.” The Gryffindors at the door had to stifle their sniggers. “I think you’re old enough now, Draco, that you can stop hiding behind your father’s cloak. Besides, you should consider your father. Do you think that it is wise for you to be causing trouble right now? You may bring your father to Dumbledore’s attention by threatening Harry. Did you ever think about that?”

There was no response to this. Harry held his breath, waiting for Draco to say something, but he remained silent. Then his heart skipped a beat as he thought about Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan listening there with him. He wondered if they understood what was just said.

“Whoa,” Dean whispered, “I hope that his father is called before Dumbledore. Maybe Malfoy will get expelled.”

Harry felt relieved. While he wouldn’t mind seeing Lucius Malfoy getting bagged for being a Death Eater, he thought that it might become dangerously complicated if Gryffindor students became involved.

A few more words were exchanged but LeSal and Malfoy had lowered their voices to the point that he couldn’t make out what was being said. Harry backed away before the door opened. When Malfoy walked past, he took notice of him, and gave Harry a look of complete and utter loathing.

* * * * *

Knowing that Malfoy was in hot water, gave Harry a spring to his step, and he felt the need to do something to celebrate—also something that would help him to put the incident on the Quidditch field behind him. He could think of nothing better than a trip to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, with Ron still angry with him, he wouldn’t have his company on the trip so he decided to ask Hermione.

“Is there a trip to Hogsmeade scheduled?” she was quick to ask when he invited her to come along.

“Well…no,” he began slowly.

“Now’s not the time to sneak out, Harry.” She puckered up her lips into that reprimanding scowl that Harry was truly beginning to hate.

“Then you can stay here with Ron,” he stated before she could say more. “And I’ll just ask Neville.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry hadn’t realized that Neville was seated at a table close by, chewing on the end of his quill while staring hopelessly down at some astronomy figures. “Whether you’d like to make a trip to Hogsmeade this evening.”

Neville dropped his quill. “You mean that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Of course. I want you to come with.” And he said in a hushed tone, “We’ll be going underneath my invisibility cloak.”

Neville’s eyes widened at this, but then he looked disappointed. “So we’re going to be going over there when we’re not supposed to?”

“But we won’t get caught.” Harry was starting to get a little angry.

Neville opened his mouth but quickly shut it. He was clearly struggling with what to do. The mere idea that Harry Potter had asked him to come on a forbidden trip to Hogsmeade underneath an invisibility cloak was a terrible temptation. His conscience was clearly outmatched. “Sure, Harry. I’d love to come.” And with that, he slammed his book shut.

“Neville…” Hermione began but Neville gave her a severe look as he went to put his books away.

* * * * *

It wasn’t long before Harry bean to rethink his decision to have Neville accompany him, and Hermione had insisted that she come along in case they ran into trouble. They had decided to go through the tunnel by the Whomping Willow so as to make a concealed entrance by way of the Shrieking Shack. However, as they hurried across the lawn under the cloak, Neville slipped on the wet grass, nearly giving them away. Hermione’s little shriek at this didn’t help any, either.

Harry decided to stop first at Zonko’s joke shop, then they shuffled off to replenish their supply of candy. As they wandered over to the Three Broomsticks, Neville pulled them back. Harry and Hermione jumped.

“You see someone?” They had taken off the invisibility cloak in order to make their purchases.

“No, look.”

They looked over to a poster that Neville was pointing at.

“Too bad Ron’s not here.”

Harry frowned at the thought. Ron was being so stupid in his mind that he deserved to miss this.

The bright orange poster had little Quidditch players darting back and forth across the words:

 

Come see the amazing CHUDLEY CANNONS!

Vs. the SUFFOLK STEAMERS

Here in Hogsmeade the 16^th November.

Game held on Hogsmeade field.

Tickets start at 10 sickles.

 

“We’ll have to tell Ron when we get back,” Hermione stated, taking a bite out of a caramel apple.

Harry turned away from the poster. “I’m freezing out here. How about a butterbeer?” and he headed toward the Three Broomsticks.

The three of them plopped down at a table off in the corner where they could see the door, just in case one of the professors decided to stop by.

“I didn’t think Hogwarts students were visiting today.” Madam Rosmerta had stopped by, and she eyed them suspiciously.

“They’re not,” Harry said simply, “but some of the fifth years are taking a break from studying so hard for the O.W.L.s.”

This sounded reasonable enough. “Well then, in that case, what shall I get for you?”

They ordered three butterbeers and a plate of chips with ketchup then sat happily enjoying the afternoon. Hermione, though, seem slightly perturbed that Harry had lied so easily.

From somewhere in the back, someone started playing a fiddle. The music was appreciated until some wizards, who had evidently had a little too much to nip, began singing along out of tune—and loud. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the words of a song about a Quidditch player from Dublin who could only catch a snitch after some whiskey, but Hermione only rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe them,” Madam Rosmerta mumbled while clearing away some glasses. “That sort of behavior could be expected at the Hog’s Head, but not at the Three Broomsticks! And no shame at all—Hogwarts professors!” She stormed off leaving the three of them curious to find out whom the singers were.

 

“There was an old wizard,

Who flew through a blizzard,

On only a Cleansweep Two.”

 

One wizard sang out loudly, not realizing that the fiddle had stopped playing and no one was singing with him.

 

“He was carried in frozen,

But they couldn’t get his nose in,

And so his days were through!

 

Alas, poor Higgety Moorhonk!

Who had the biggest conk that England’s ever seen!

 

And he was so very crass,

Though the weather kicked his…”

 

At once, the singer was interrupted. Harry and Hermione were staring at one another while Neville had sunk lower in his seat.

“Ohhhh…shining sickles!” Harry whispered. For the singer was clearly recognized to be the voice of LeSal and the one that followed, that of Snape.

“Hello Minister. Forgive Salazar, he normally does not get this careless, but he hasn’t been well…”

“Severus, don’t make excuses for me,” LeSal snapped. “You know what? It’s a good thing you showed up here, Cornelius, because I’ve had a mind to tell you…No, Sev, I’m going to say it…”

Carefully, Harry peered over the barrier between his booth to see a table in the opposite corner of the room where LeSal stood facing Fudge and Snape was attempting to coax him back into his seat. By the way he was teetering, it didn’t seem that LeSal was sober enough to take any advice.

“I hate you, Cornelius,” LeSal spat, “I think you’re a blundering, incompetent, pompous…” At this, Snape grabbed him firmly by the shoulder but LeSal managed to grab the table with one hand and to wave his staff with the other, making Severus back off. “And I challenge you to a wizards’ duel.” When he stated this, he let go of the table to point at Fudge, but it caused him to teeter backwards, and he nearly fell into Snape’s lap.

Snape immediately grabbed a hold of him and began to usher him out the door. “As I said, Minister, he is not well. I’m going to take him back.” He said this with more than a hint of anger and Harry was glad at the moment that he was not Professor LeSal or Cornelius Fudge. Fudge seemed to catch onto Snape’s mood and said nothing more. Instead, he looked around for a seat. As he approached where Harry, Hermione, and Neville sat, Harry thought it best to grab the invisibility cloak.

“Ah, Mr. Potter.” Too late. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Actually, I was just preparing to leave,” Harry sputtered. “I’ve got loads of homework to do.”

“I just need a quick word,” and he blocked Harry’s exit, scooting into the booth next to him, trapping him there.

“I’d rather not talk without Dumbledore.”

Fudge snorted. “Listen, Harry. Dumbledore’s had his day when he brought down Grindelwald. He’s gotten too jumpy, seeing dark wizards behind every hedge.”

“Voldemort’s back.”

Cringing at Harry’s choice of words, Fudge then turned slightly red. “No he’s not. We’ve got no proof.”

“Cedric’s death wasn’t enough?” Harry wanted away from Fudge. It occurred to him that he had not brought his wand. A very dumb move.

This seemed to make Fudge’s face turn an even deeper shade of red. “We have no proof that You-Know-Who killed Amos Diggory’s son.”

“Yes we do. I was there when Voldemort used the Avada Kedavra curse on him!” he made a point of using Voldemort’s name. It caused many in the room to look nervously in their direction.

“You lie. That’s why I need to take you in. Get you away from Dumbledore’s influence.”

“You’re not going to take Harry anywhere,” Hermione said warningly, and Harry took notice that she had not forgotten her wand.

“You two better be running along,” Fudge said to Hermione and Neville. “Harry will only be away for a short time.”

“I am not.”

“Now Harry, don’t make this difficult,” and Fudge pulled out his wand.

He couldn’t believe what was happening. Hermione had her wand held out under the table and by the look on her face, was attempting to sort out what spell to use.

“I told you I left it here!” LeSal’s voice broke the silence. He seemed somewhat more steady, but by the tone and volume of his voice, he still wasn’t sober. Snape followed in after him.

Fudge was watching and had lowered his wand.

Harry was agonizing over what to do. He was frightened of Fudge and had a bad feeling about what awaited him at the Ministry. On the other hand, what would Snape do if he saw him here in Hogsmeade without permission?

Discretely, he handed Hermione the invisibility cloak. “You and Neville get out of here. This looks like it may get sticky and I don’t want you two in trouble on account of me.”

He didn’t need to tell her all of that, for as soon as he handed her the cloak, she nudged Neville. “Well, Mr. Fudge, I think Neville and I will be leaving.”

Fudge didn’t even acknowledge them as they snuck out. The Snapes had his full attention.

LeSal had snatched up a leather satchel that he had left in the booth. Snape looked impatient.

“Severus, are you sure you don’t want to try what left of my port of…” LeSal had turned around, holding up a glass but spotted something that made him drop it. “Oh no you don’t!” he growled, and he stormed over to where Harry and Fudge sat. “Harry, Fudge isn’t trying to get you to go to the ministry, is he?”

Snape had followed over, given Harry one nasty look but then turned his attention to Fudge.

“Shut up, Salazar, you’re drunk,” Fudge snapped.

“That I may be,” LeSal agreed, “but I could never drink enough to make me forget the ‘questioning’ you gave Severus when you took him to the Ministry.”

“I said shut up.”

LeSal turned to Snape. “He’s trying to take Harry to the Ministry. I say we take him out behind the Hog’s Head and…”

But Snape would have none of it and gave LeSal a look that said to be quiet more than any words could ever do. “Mr. Potter,” Snape said in a very soft but not to be reckoned with tone. “Come here.”

Harry didn’t delay for a minute and quickly slid out of the booth and went to stand behind the Snapes, but Professor Snape had turned and was guiding LeSal out the door. Harry followed and left without a word being spoken.