Old Friends, New Places

Politicians and Prats

By Gerda Curd

Hello. You might recognize my name as the author of the best-selling Charm Your Own Cheese. While I am not, perhaps, an expert in all things literary, I felt that I must step up and protest the way the Daily Prophet has used its fame to spread awful lies about wizards that most of you were near worshipping not even two years ago.

Yes, I am speaking of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. One might wonder why, exactly, this is being published as an essay of sorts rather than an article in the Daily Prophet. The answer to that is simple: I was rejected for reasons undisclosed to me.

Before I jump to the point, I would like to mention that I will probably offend many of you. Some of you are powerful people, some of you are students, and some of you are very popular with the public. Sadly, though, I truly do not care whether or not you have money, fame, or even power. Many people are at fault, and I, personally, am not afraid of you.

Let us begin with Rita Skeeter, who--thankfully--has somehow managed to keep her quill to herself since June. I find it astonishing that so many of you are basing your opinions of people off of what she writes, as she is widely known as an awful, lying, egotistical brat who wants nothing more than to ruin the reputations of perfectly respectable people.

I, like many of you, remember Rubeus Hagrid quite fondly from my days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was always very polite to me, and though he is not always aware of his strength, he is someone I trust more than most of you. The article--and I use that term lightly--written by Skeeter about Hagrid contained only one quote from a Hogwarts student--Draco Malfoy.

"I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."

First of all, I wish to bring attention to the fact that flobberworms do not, in fact, actually have teeth. As to being attacked, hippogriffs are prideful creatures--as are the Malfoys. Personally, I truly doubt that the hippogriff in question woke up that morning and thought, "I think I'll attack the only son and heir of one of the richest wizards in Britain!" Chances are, Malfoy offended the hippogriff, either by insulting it or by neglecting to bow. As he was the only one attacked, I find it highly unlikely that Hagrid neglected to inform them of the necessary etiquette involved when dealing with hippogriffs.

And, of course, my favourite part of the article, "We all hate Hagrid." Let us take a moment to observe the fact that not long after this quote, Skeeter mentions that Hagrid has developed a close friendship with Harry Potter. Obviously, at least one student does not hate the man.

Now, let us move on to topics more pleasant than Rita Skeeter--and believe me, there are many. I believe, though, that I will move on to the Ministry. That's right, not even our esteemed Ministry of Magic is safe from my quill.

Firstly, I will point out that this time two years ago, Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, prompting our dear Minister Fudge to place dementors at Hogwarts, giving them access to our nation's youth. Well done, Minister, what a brilliant plan. It has been revealed to me that on three separate occasions, the dementors were in direct contact with students--beginning on the Hogwarts Express.

Take a moment to imagine that you are a Muggleborn, about to begin your magical education. You are on the train, waiting to arrive at school, most likely without any close friends with you. The train jerks to a stop, the lights go out, and a menacing figure appears in the compartment. Instantly, you are cold and reliving the worst thing that has ever happened to you. It leaves, thankfully, but you are weak and trembling. Aside from Diagon Alley, this is your first true encounter with the Wizarding World. Would you be in a hurry to remain a witch or wizard?

Since then, a massive breakout at Azkaban has released twelve high-security Death Eaters. Who, if not the Dark Lord, is behind this? But I will save that for the end of my article.

Moving past the escapes, let us focus on the Minister's newest blunder: Dolores Umbridge. This woman--again, the term is used lightly--has been placed as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. I use the term 'placed' because Professor Dumbledore did not invite her to Hogwarts--he has much better taste than that.

Umbridge has set herself up as the Hogwarts High Inquisitor--, which means, basically, that she can do whatever she likes and there is nothing we can do about it. She has, to date, gotten Dumbledore removed as Headmaster; begun searching all outgoing and incoming mail; given the caretaker permission to whip any who misbehave; banned a perfectly legitimate magazine; and, most importantly, refused to actually teach. Oh, she can claim that she's educating them, but no practical work is allowed. Umbridge has informed her students that they do not need to know how to cast defensive and offensive spells, as the Ministry can protect them. At the risk of insulting the dead--tell that to Cedric Diggory. Also, the OWLs and NEWTs do require practical applications of knowledge, so they do need to know.

I mentioned that she is monitoring all mail, so students and teachers cannot complain about the unfair measures Umbridge is taking. I, personally, am very grateful that I do not have any children, as I certainly would not want them anywhere near that woman.

Speaking of dear old Hogwarts, I now bring myself to my final grievances, which are so entwined that I have no idea where to begin. However, for the sake of my sanity, let us begin with our "boy hero," Harry Potter. Firstly, I would like to take a moment to congratulate most of you for being first-rate pricks. The Boy-Who-Lived is just that--a boy. Fifteen years old, for the love of Merlin! What made him famous cost him his parents, Lily and James Potter, who I knew rather well in school. Why, I ask you, would he want such fame? Oh yes, he defeated Voldemort--that's right, I'm not too scared to write a name--and saved us all, but he was a child, orphaned by what you once worshipped him for.

As such, I find it highly ridiculous that you lot believe he is simply making up stories about Voldemort returning in hopes of more fame. Somehow, I do not believe that he wants a reminder of the "man" who cost him everything. Also, Potter is rarely seen in public. One of the only posed photographs of him in existence is from shortly before his second year, when Gilderoy Lockhart basically tackled him and pinned him to his side. Call it what you will, but I was there in hopes of speaking to Mr. Flourish, for reasons that you do not need to know. Potter spent most of his time in Flourish and Blotts attempting to escape Lockhart, and he looked none too pleased to hear that the babbling buffoon would be his professor.

When he is seen in public, Potter is quiet, withdrawn, and pale. He does not offer autographs, he does not draw attention to himself, and he does not offer career advice to innocent bystanders. That, ladies and gentlemen, is not a boy who wants your admiration.

Moving on, I would like to bring your attention to the fact that all the defamation of character being directed towards Dumbledore and Potter started just after the point where they both began claiming that Voldemort had returned. In reference to the massive breakout at Azkaban, I would love to know just who masterminded that scheme.

I could go on much longer, but if I did, I would have to publish this as a book. Instead, I will end with the note that the Ministry is being oddly defensive against all claims made by Potter or Dumbledore. A bit too defensive, methinks? Well, thank you for reading, and I hope that this will maybe prompt you to pull your heads out of your arses and do something about the current threat.

~Gerda Curd, author

---

Fred Weasley stared at the article he had picked up at Flourish and Blotts for three seconds, and then promptly burst into laughter so loud it attracted the attention of his twin.

"What?" George asked in a tone of voice that suggested he believed his brother had consumed one too many firewhiskeys.

"You remember that witch that came by yesterday and asked us about Hogwarts?" Fred asked once he had calmed.

"Yeah. Oh, did she already finish the article?" George inquired, suddenly excited.

"Oh yes. Here, you take this--I'm going to grab another from Flourish and Blotts and take it to Headquarters," Fred decided, tossing the article to his brother and dashing to the bookstore.

When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, he immediately sought out Dumbledore. Thankfully, he did not encounter his mother, so a shouting match did not delay him. Soon most of the Order members present had read it, and they were discussing the information revealed by the article.

"How did she know so much about what's been happening at Hogwarts?" Moody asked suspiciously. Fred contrived to look innocent, but--judging by the looks he received--was not successful.

"All right, all right. She came to us yesterday and started asking us questions about Umbridge. When we asked why, she told us she wanted to expose the Ministry's stupidity," Fred shrugged, smirking. "We knew she was an author because Mum has a copy of her book."

"She claims to have been close to Lily and James, but I don't recall ever meeting someone named Gerda Curd," Sirius put in from his spot at the table.

"Maybe you'd recognize her face?" George suggested, having just arrived. "I brought a picture of her--our Instant Prank Capturers were on."

He pulled a picture of an attractive young woman out of his pocket.

Lupin looked at the picture and stepped back in shock.

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"Sirius... that's Greta," he whispered.

Sirius leapt from his seat and came over to them hurriedly, snatching the picture from George's hands. He stared at the picture in shock for a few minutes before sinking back into his seat.

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Miss Catchlove? I had not considered her for the Order--perhaps she would be a valuable asset. She has already revealed that she does not support Fudge."

"How are we to reach her, though?" Lupin asked. "She has successfully avoided us for nearly sixteen years."

"Well, she did say that she might stop by some time this week to actually browse our products," George mentioned thoughtfully. "We could bring her here when she does--or one of you can come with us."

"I will," Lupin said decisively. "She knows me, after all."

Remus was reading in the back room of the shop when he heard Fred--or George--release an excited shout.

"Ah, Miss Curd! How nice of you to stop by! Lovely article, couldn't stop laughing."

His greeting was returned by a familiar voice, one that Remus hadn't heard in a long time.

"I'm glad you liked it. Has it been a success with your family as well?"

Fred--or George--did not have the chance to reply, as Remus entered the main store just then.

"Greta," he said simply. His old friend stiffened slightly, and then slowly turned to face him.

"Remus!" she exclaimed, nearly tackling him with a hug. "Gods, it's been years!"

"You disappeared, Greta; not me," he reminded her.

"Of course I disappeared, Remus, I was terrified. Lily, James, and Peter were dead. I had openly accused Lucius Malfoy of being a willing Death Eater, I couldn't find you, I had nearly gotten into a duel with Crouch for not giving Sirius a trial... so I ran," Greta said angrily, running a hand through her dark hair.

"I didn't come here to argue, Greta. I came here to talk to you about Voldemort."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Albus wants you to join us," he whispered, looking around for any possible eavesdroppers.

"Cool. I'm in," she said, not bothering to ask for details. "'Cept, I'm not flooing to where ever you lot are set up."

"You couldn't anyway," Remus informed her. "Fidelius Charm."

"So, what, we'll Apparate to the general location?"

"Yes. First, though, I should warn you."

"About what?" Greta asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Sirius is living at Headquarters," he told her, not meeting her eyes.

The only response he received was a thump as Greta fainted.

"I suppose I could have broken it to her more gently," Remus winced, before muttering a quick Ennervate.

---

When they finally entered Headquarters, Greta was still looking a bit dazed. Her eyes scanned the hallway in a paranoid manner, and there was a slight twitch in her left eye.

"I don't like this place," Greta murmured softly. "This is Sirius' old home?"

"Yes," Remus nodded absently as he led her towards the basement kitchen.

"I knew his family wasn't the best, but...." Greta's eyes looked almost teary as Remus showed her into the kitchen.

"Ah, Miss Catchlove," Dumbledore said, standing.

"Professor Dumbledore," Greta greeted him, looking around the kitchen.

"Sirius is upstairs at the moment," Dumbledore informed her, correctly guessing the reason for her search. "He hasn't slept since he found out you would be coming here, and Molly slipped him a sleeping potion."

"Lily did that once," Greta reminisced. "He was distracting her the night before the NEWTs, and she tricked him into drinking a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"I remember that," Remus smiled sadly. "He was so angry when he woke up."

"Not much he could do about it, though," Greta smirked. "He was the only one not dressed, and the NEWTs started in fifteen minutes."

"Fastest I've ever seen him get ready."

The two of them were broken out of their nostalgia by a throat clearing. Greta whipped around, and her eyes widened.

"Sirius?" she whispered.

"Greta," Sirius smiled. Seconds later, he had his arms full of a weeping brunette.

"Oh, Sirius," she cried brokenly, "Gods above, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Hey, now," he said, "I told you you'd never get rid of me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" Greta sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "Quit trying to be a Ravenclaw."

Sirius had no reply to that, so instead, he kissed her.

---

A few hours later found Greta, Remus, and Sirius sitting around the kitchen table, discussing what had happened since they last saw each other.

"Well, after I got damn near killing Crouch, I Floo'd home and stayed with Nelly for about a year. After that, she got married and I moved to Canada, where some cousins of mine were raising their kids. Naturally, I got tired of that quickly. So, I came back to London, changed my name, and began putting together some of my mum's old recipes."

"Yes, so your article said. But, why cheese? You were terrified of cheese back in school," Sirius pointed out.

"Well, yeah. Who would suspect Gerda Curd and Greta Catchlove being the same person, then?" Greta replied.

"True enough," Sirius nodded. "So how did you get around to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"

"Well, I was originally at the Daily Prophet to see about getting a job there, but I saw some back issues and was flipping through them in the waiting room. Naturally, those things they said about Harry did not endear them to me, so I left. I was going to just Floo home, but then I saw the eyesore that is Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It hit me as something you and James would've done. "

"We would've, at that."

"So, Remus, I suppose you've spent the last fifteen years taking care of Harry?"

"How could I?" Remus asked bitterly. "The Ministry wasn't about to let a werewolf take care of the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Then who raised him?" Greta asked, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Remus and Sirius.

"Petunia," Remus admitted after a moment of silence.

"What?" Greta asked dangerously.

"Dumbledore put him there. Something about protective wards, I believe." Remus' attempt at calming her was obviously unsuccessful, because an unpleasant grimace crossed her face for a moment, before she screamed.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"

---

Three hours later, a very hoarse Greta Catchlove settled herself into a comfortable position on the floor of the library, placing a covered object on the carpet directly in front of her. It was flat and oval-shaped. As she took the purple cloth off it, one might have thought it a mirror, were it not for the fact that it appeared to be made of onyx. Greta waved her hand slowly over the object as though clearing something away, although it was spotless.

"Odkyric domi Harry Potter marnyzycie," she chanted lowly, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, her eyes were no longer brown. They had filmed over, almost, giving the appearance of an entirely white eye--no pupil, no iris. The woman slowly looked down into the 'mirror' of onyx, focusing on something that only she could see.

---

When Greta exited the library two days later, her once again brown eyes were rimmed with red from crying. She passed by Sirius and Remus in the hall, going directly to one of the loos that was completely clean. After a shower that lasted almost an entire hour, she was wrapped in a towel and working on drying her hair with another. It could easily be taken care of with a spell, of course, but it gave her something to do. As she walked down the stairs into the basement kitchen, she heard the ever-annoying voice of Kreacher the house elf.

"Kreacher, what are you up to now?" she demanded, glaring at his half-mumbled response.

"Why are you near the fi--" Greta broke off when the emerald green eyes she had always been jealous of locked on her. Lily's eyes, of course. But she was dead, so...

"Gods above, you must be Lily's son."