Harry Potter and the Unbreakable Link

Go to Chapter Eight

Harry Potter and the Unbreakable Link

Chapter 7- Crisis at the Ministry

The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and before you could say, 'The boy who lived' the term had slipped away. The only thing of interest or importance that happened was an owl from Mrs. Granger saying that a rather rude man fitting Wormtail's description had called from the Ministry and wanted all sorts of details about Hermione. It was clear now that Voldemort had no more idea of who his daughter was than Dumbledore had.

The term ended and the holidays started. Hermione used the time to revise for her NEWTs which were fast approaching at Easter. Harry practised quidditch and Ron played chess.

One thing that Hermione had kept up from her fourth year was reading The Daily Prophet, and indeed, only one day after the holidays had started there was some real news to see...

*

Marisa Goldfinger was the clever, responsible and trusted deputy to Cornelius Fudge. She was Professor McGonagall's niece and was probably one of the most respected members of the Ministry. She influenced Fudge in most matters and was liked by everyone who wasn't a dark wizard. However, arguments were common.

"Fudge?" asked Marisa coming into Fudge's office.

"What is it?"

"Another death."

"What? You-Know-Who?"

"No. It seems she was killed by Pettigrew."

"Same thing. Who was it?" Fudge asked, looking up.

"A witch called Mrs. Chang."

"Never heard of her."

"She lives in Sheffield. Witnesses say that Pettigrew was asking questions about her daughter that she didn't want to answer."

"What sort of questions?" Fudge looked interested.

"Wanted to see her birth certificate and other things like that. But this isn't the first," Marisa continued before Fudge could interrupt, "A muggle called Mr. Granger wrote to me last week about a person answering Pettigrew's description who had asked him and his wife questions about his daughter, a witch at Hogwarts, which he thought were offensive. Pettigrew said he came from the Ministry, but the Grangers were suspicious and wrote to me. There are other examples as well."

"Marisa," said Fudge, taking off his glasses, "I don't understand why you think so much of this. Mrs. Chang's death was coincidental, and so what if You-Know-Who wants the birth certificates of some girls?"

"You-Know-Who isn't mad. He must have a reason."

"Of course he's mad, Marisa! He can't be held responsible for his actions. He probably doesn't have a clue himself. Madmen are like this, you know. Monomania, I think it's called." Fudge added importantly.

"I think you're the mad one here, Cornelius Fudge." Breathed Marisa angrily.

Fudge stood up, his face going purple. He pointed a trembling finger at her, "You've gone one step too far this time, Goldfinger. I've put up with you for three years- with your attempted bullying and your cutting insults, and you'll go no further. You're discharged, Goldfinger. I never want to see you here again."

Marisa pursed her lips and turned towards the door.

"Goodbye, Fudge. I hope you find a good replacement- perhaps Pettigrew would be an excellent choice in your opinion." And with this comment she swept from the room.

After this things started to happen rather quickly. The next day, Wednesday, The Daily Prophet published an article announcing the dismissal of Marisa Goldfinger.

Thursday's Daily Prophet mentioned in passing that a member of the Department of International Magical Co-operation and ten members of the twelve governing cabinet members had all resigned in protest.

By Friday morning, three departments had nearly all been lost due to voluntary resignation. A special edition Daily Prophet announced Friday evening that Gringotts had gone on strike until Fudge put Marisa back in office.

On Saturday Death Eaters were seen patrolling unchecked the streets of muggle London and Professor Dumbledore left for the Ministry leaving Hogwarts in McGonagall's hands.

On Sunday the number of officials who had left the Ministry was over half and the Prime Minister had got involved.

On Monday Teen Witch started following the news in between make-up advertisements, and three muggles were killed in a Death Eater riot in Bond Street.

On Monday evening a special edition Daily Prophet announced on the front page that Fudge had offered Marisa her job back.

That week more people read the newspaper than ever before. Even at Hogwarts you could always here Marisa's name mentioned in the corridors.

On Tuesday morning the Bond Street riot hit the headlines of The Sun and The Times. There were no wizards in the Department of Muggle Deception left, so other less well-trained wizards had to be sent to modify everyone's memory.

On Tuesday evening the Ministry hit the headlines of the Daily Prophet again. Backed by three-quarters of the Ministry, Marisa Goldfinger had refused to take her job back unless Fudge himself resigned!

At Hogwarts everyone watched the papers with bated breath. Would Fudge resign?

"I hope he does," said Harry, "then we might get someone who can actually do something about Voldemort."

"Just what I think," said Ron and Hermione.

"It's a pity Dumbledore is determined not to be Minister. I can't think who else would be good enough," Hermione added thoughtfully.

*

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat in the Leaky Cauldron talking to his muggle friend, Lord Eldir. Dumbledore had first met Lord Eldir when that man had inherited his title about three years ago. Eldir was a friend of the Prime Minister and Dumbledore knew the Prime Minister. Dumbledore had just told Eldir all the troubles of the wizarding world at the moment. He found it very useful talking to Eldir. He could get a reaction from someone impersonal. Eldir could advise without being too involved- being a muggle. It reminded Dumbledore of talking to- but that was all dead and buried. Literally.

They had just finished talking about Voldemort's daughter.

"Should I make it known to the Ministry, then?" asked Dumbledore.

Eldir frowned, "I should think not, Albus. It seems to me to be a lot of rumour if you ask me. I don't know how important dreams are in the wizarding world, but it does seem a little strange to me to be relying on this Harry Potter's dreams only, with no real evidence."

"I believe Harry, Tim. He often dreams about Voldemort, because of the connection with him through his scar. All of his dreams have been true so far."

Eldir shrugged, "I really cannot help you here, you know."

Dumbledore continued, "And we have all the evidence that Voldemort has been trying to find who his daughter really is as well."

"You mean he doesn't know who she is? There are things you haven't told me, Albus," he said, with a smile.

"True, true," replied Dumbledore, in the same way. "I think Estella Green is the only one who knows definitely."

"This Estella Green was really Voldemort's mistress, then? What a lot of wizards and witches there are who seem to be quite remarkable! I should really like to meet some more wizards apart from you, Albus. I'm very curious to see an ordinary wizard."

"I'm sure it could be arranged for you to meet someone. They'll be very eager to meet a muggle like you. No offence meant."

"I don't take offence, Albus. You could say that you lot is my new hobby," laughed Eldir.

They were silent a minute, and then Eldir took out a bag of pills, and, put one in his drink. He laughed ruefully, saying, "For my rheumatism. Us muggles don't have magical cures for such maladies, unfortunately."

Dumbledore smiled. After having drained his glass, pill and all, Eldir said thoughtfully, "You know your famous Harry Potter has his exams this year? The equivalent of Advanced Level."

"Ye-es," replied Dumbledore, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Well, I wondered, I would have thought that after his exams he might like a holiday."

"The Easter holidays are straight after the NEWTs."

"Indeed? I was merely thinking that it would give me very great pleasure to receive Harry Potter at my castle in the Easter holidays, for a week perhaps. He could show me and my household some magic, if you gave him permission. I would find it fascinating."

Dumbledore hesitated. He was sure that Lord Eldir would take good care of Harry in the holidays. But surely if he left Hogwarts he would be very vulnerable to Voldemort? However, if Voldemort was involved in searching for his daughter then perhaps he wouldn't try to get at Harry. And then there were Ron and Hermione.

"What about his two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? He would find it lonely without them."

"Ron and Hermione are very welcome as well of course. I wouldn't dream of separating Harry from his friends. The more the merrier! But, Albus, surely you have told me all about the Weasleys? How loyal they are to you?"

"Indeed I must have done, if you remember the name so well," replied Dumbledore, smiling.

"And is Harry's friend really a Weasley?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I do not remember the girl's name, however, and you have mentioned many wizarding names to me."

"Ah! Miss Granger's parents are muggles. That's why you haven't heard the name before."

"They are muggles? Are you sure?" asked Eldir with raised eyebrows

"I know what you are thinking, Tim."

There was a pause. Eventually Eldir asked, almost hesitantly, "You must have some idea who she is?"

Dumbledore looked at the Lord then said, "I do have suspicions, and I'll only be too glad to tell you what they are. This is a wizarding bar, however, and I wouldn't want to be overheard. They are only suspicions after all. Come, I'll get the bill and I'll tell you on the way to Westminster."

*

On a hot balcony somewhere foreign, a lady was sitting reading, La Nuova Strega. Suddenly with a leap she jumped up from her wickerwork chair and looked wildly around. She poked her head round the full length shutters that separated her hotel room from the balcony and shouted, "Susanna!"

There was no reply, and the lady repeated the call, adding on, "Vieni qui, subito!" (Come here, immediately!)

There was a scurrying of footsteps and presently a neatly dressed middle-aged woman appeared on the balcony. "Si, signora? Avete chiamato?" (Yes, Madam? Did you call?)

The lady rolled her eyes up to the blue sky. "Si, ho chiamato almeno mille volte, Susanna." (Yes, I called at least a thousand times.)

Susanna curtsied, "Mi scusi, signora." (I'm sorry, Madam.)

The lady threw the newspaper at Susanna, "Leggi questo. Cosa ne pensi?" (Read this. What do you think?)

Susanna read the article then said slowly, "Non capisco, signora. Mi dispiace, signora. Perché é importante?" (I don't understand, Madam. I'm sorry, Madam. Why is it important?)

The lady gestured to let Susanna sit down. "Ti spiego in inglese. So che capisci l'inglese benissimmo. Allora... This article is about what is happening now in England." (I'll explain in English. I know that you understand English perfectly. So...)

"Si signora, quello giá lo so. The Minister of Magic has been forced to resign." (Yes, Madam, I already know that.)

"Brava! Well, you took something in. Now listen, Susannah. If you had just been forced to abandon your position-"

"La mia signora non farebbe mai una cosa cosi!" replied Susanna, sounding shocked. (My mistress would never do a thing of the kind!)

The lady pursed her lips, "Vediamo... Now listen and don't interrupt. If you had been forced to abandon your position, you would not like the people who had made you, would you?"

"No, signora."

"Exactly. And if someone offered revenge against them, would you join them?"

"Forse." (Perhaps.)

"Of course you would. You know my dear friend, Tom Riddle? I believe he will have thought of this as well as I have. He will try to get Fudge on his side. We must get there first. Fudge will be an invaluable spy. Tom will not win. Capisci adesso?" (Do you understand now?)

Susanna nodded, her mouth hanging open. The two women sat there for a second. Then the lady spoke again to herself, her mouth twisted into a smile, "Tom may have the support of half of England, but I have the support of half Europe. You'll never win, my Lord."

Susanna did not reply and presently her ladyship spoke again with more energy, "Allora, Susanna, vai e comprami un Daily Prophet. Devo leggere tutti i dettagli." (Well, Susanna, go and buy me a Daily Prophet. I must read all the details.)

Susanna bowed her head, "Vado, vado. Lei vuole qualcos' altro?" (I'm going, I'm going. Do you want anything else?)

"No, grazie. Adesso vai!" (No thanks. Now go!)

Susanna left the room quickly. The lady leaned over the balcony rails, and presently saw her hurry down the cobbled street. She stood there a minute soaking up the winter sun and gazing into space when she saw an owl flying towards her. It was a magnificent owl, golden and gleaming, but she saw none of it.

Who knows where I am? she thought, then remembered that owls could find anyone anywhere, even without an address.

As the owl swooped down onto La Nuova Strega she grabbed the parchment from the its feet. It preened a little and then sat looking important.

The letter was addressed in a neat hand to 'Miss Estella Green, wherever she may be'. Estella opened in eagerly. She had a good idea who it was from.

'My dear Estella,

Long time no see? I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.'

Estella raised her eyebrows.

'We parted in quite bad humour, I remember. I hope you forgive me now, my dear, for I am sure it must have been my fault.'

"Laying it on a bit, aren't you?" muttered Estella.

'I seem to remember that soon after we parted I was actually defeated by young Harry Potter. Your caution was right. How can I ever forgive myself for not being guided by you?'

"How indeed?"

'We were quarrelling over our daughter, I remember. How like other parents we then were! I always thought it was a shame that we parted as we did. I was never told the name of my own daughter after she was transformed. Now she is eighteen and alone in the world, not knowing her own past or future. You must know how much I wish to see my dear Elvira again, but how can I have that pleasure if I do not know the name she passes under?'

"I thought we'd get there eventually," thought Estella, a wide grin on her lips.

'I am writing to you, dear Estella, to ask for your collaboration in this business. If I only knew who Elvira thought she was, then my plans would be complete. Harry Potter is already in the palm of my hand, I think.'

"You only think?"

'I long to see you again, dearest Stella. Maybe, if you return to me, we could have a family reunion!?

All my love, your Lord Voldemort'

When she had read the letter, Estella stared at it in surprise, before collapsing on her chair in a laughing fit. When she had sufficiently recovered she coughed and fixed the owl with a sharp stare, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. She sat up straighter her eyes dancing merrily.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose? Poor Tom, he must really think me very stupid, if I am to be taken in by that! I see what he's up to. He must be really desperate."

She narrowed her eyes, and pulling out her wand muttered, "Accio Quill!"

Her quill flew towards her out of the room. She caught it deftly and turning the letter over, tapped her quill against the parchment. "Two can play this game."

She sucked her quill a bit, then wrote,

'Dear Tom,

How nice of you to remember me! I too am very sorry we parted on such bad terms. I really was very angry with you then, but all that has now evaporated. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' and all that. I understand, I really do. Your idea of a family reunion sounds splendid. I can't wait to see you and Elvira again. How she must have grown! I'm so proud of my little daughter! As you say, she must be eighteen now. I really am a proud parent. Who wouldn't be, with you as the father? I hope you see her soon. I was really sorry to hear of Harry Potter's victory over you. Still, you're back in power now. What do you mean, he's in the palm of your hand? It seems that you've thought out a nice little plan without my help! I daresay I'll see you soon.

All my love,

E.G.'

She folded up the parchment and put it in the envelope, erased the address to herself with her wand, and wrote, 'Lord Voldemort, wherever he may be', sealed it and tied it to the owl's foot. Then she took up her wand and said, "Concelio Indrum!" and let the owl fly off towards the sun as she waved her hand after it.

She watched it disappear then threw back her head and laughed merrily.

"You bluff, and I double bluff."

This chapter has now ended.

Go to Chapter Seven

Chapter 8- Christmas!

What Estella had read in La Nuova Strega was in fact correct. Cornelius Fudge had resigned and Marisa Goldfinger was now Minister of Magic. However she claimed in an interview on the Christmas Day supplement, that she was only in position temporarily, and that she really did not want to be Minister permanently. The article ran as follows,

Wanted- Minister of Magic

By Special Correspondent, Valerie Confident

This morning Miss Marisa Goldfinger, Minister of Magic, told a Daily Prophet reporter that she did not want to remain in her present political position. On being asked why she caused such chaos she replied that the other officials resigned of their own choice. I had no intention, she claims, of causing any confusion at all. ‘However, I think that Fudge is not the right man to lead the country in this time of crisis,’ admits Miss Goldfinger, ‘When I knew that I had him in my power, I couldn’t resist getting rid of him. I did not do it for my own greed. I am not sure I am the right person to take control here, either. I sincerely hope my name may not be put down in records as a Minister of Magic, especially as the first female minister; I want that title to go to someone else sometime. At the moment, the Governors and I are searching for a possible candidate for the post of Minister. Anyone is welcome to apply, I can guarantee that all applications will be considered.’

If you know someone who might be suitable for the post write to Marisa Goldfinger, Ministry of Magic Headquarters, Diagon Alley, London. Please remember, that all applications will be taken seriously. If you write in, the Minister may consider you as a possible candidate.

“Well,” said Hermione after she had finished reading the article, “we are in a mess here.”

“Why?” asked Ron.

“I would have thought it was obvious. With the Ministry in confusion it would be very easy for it to be attacked. Also, Fudge won’t be too pleased about being forced to leave the Ministry and may join the Dark side.”

Ron’s jaw dropped, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Rest assured Voldemort will have thought of it.”

“Don’t say his name!” said Ron through gritted teeth, “you’re as bad as Harry."

“Is that a compliment or the reverse?” asked Hermione smiling, as Harry walked into the Common Room.

“Look at this, Harry!” cried Hermione jumping up and thrusting the newspaper into his hands.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Hermione!” grumbled Harry good-humoredly, “is this my present?”

“Of course not, silly! It’s a newspaper.”

“Wow, you don’t say!” said Harry sitting down to read the article. When he had finished he said, “Looks like the Ministry’s going to have fun.”

“Harry!”

“OK, OK, Hermione, keep cool. Seriously though, I really don’t want to discuss it now, on Christmas day.”

Hermione made no reply and looked at her hands. After a bit she said calmly, but a little constrained, “I think we should look for Voldemort’s daughter. After all, it is the holidays, so if we snoop around a little, no-one will notice.”

“That’s a point!” said Ron, eagerly. “Let’s get going. Right, she won’t be anyone in Gryffindor-”

“Steady on, Ron,” replied Hermione, “we can’t totally rule out Gryffindors.”

Harry frowned, “But Hermione, I don’t see how Elvira could possibly be a Gryffindor. She- she’s the daughter of the most evil wizard ever!”

“Harry, she doesn’t know who she is. Remember, she could actually be good. Anyway, if she’s meant to be muggle born then she can’t be in Slytherin. All Slytherins are pure blood, and if there was a Slytherin who supposedly wasn’t, then we would have known before now.”

“She’s got a point there,” mused Ron. Harry however, stood up and said angrily to Hermione, “OK, so who is she? Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Phillippa Spinnet, Carly Atkinson or Michelle Lorry? Take your pick. I personally go for Granger.”

“Don’t get yourself so worked up,” snapped Hermione without sounding really angry, “you are paying me a great compliment by saying I am the daughter of the greatest sorcerer ever.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, she could be in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, not just Gryffindor?” said Ron, “By the way, stop fighting, you two. It’s annoying.”

Harry grinned, “So you know what it feels like?”

Ron looked innocently at Harry while Hermione tried not to laugh, “I’m never going to fight with Hermione again. Ever.”

Harry stared at them happily. Hermione looked at the floor and said unhappily, “Ron, I don’t like you in that way. I wish I did. But really,” she added more spiritedly, “We are eighteen. You don’t fall in love at eighteen, unless you’re Romeo and Juliet.”

Harry frowned, “My parents ran away from Hogwarts to get married when they were eighteen.”

Hermione gave him a look that made Harry almost think she had said, "That doesn’t help me prove my point, Harry.”

“I think it could happen again. Would you run away with anyone from Hogwarts, Hermione?” asked Ron, hopefully.

“Certainly not. This conversation isn’t going anywhere. Falling in love with your friends is ridiculous. If you really want to know, I don’t want to get married at all. I want a profession.”

Harry grinned, he could just picture Hermione a few years hence, a younger type of Professor McGonagall, wringing her hands at someone saying, ‘But, darling, I want a profession!’ “I bet you’ll have changed your mind in a few years,” he said.

Hermione looked suddenly looked very sad, “I know I will. I can’t help it. I think.”

“How come you know?” Harry asked in surprise, this wasn’t the answer he had expected.

“You’re the not the one who knows their future, but not their past or present!” And with this she ran up the stairs to her dormitories. Harry and Ron stared at where she had gone, “What’s biting her? Was it my fault?” asked Ron anxiously.

Harry shook his head, “Really good Christmas Hermione is having.”

*

Another girl who wasn’t having a good Christmas was sitting on her four poster in a draughty bedroom. She had no presents. No parents to care for her at ‘The Season of Goodwill’. Because she was a… She bit back the words angrily. They were of no use.

Where had it started? With her parents of course. Why were they my parents? Why couldn’t they hadn’t they been more reasonable? Not so concerned with image? And me? I’m the only sane member, and I’m stupid. Dumb. Thick. Braindead. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here now.

When had it started? When the letter had not come. When she had been thirteen. That fateful day… He promised me everything…

“Look at the books. Hold your wand out. Say Accio Books! Hurry up! I haven’t got all day.”

She looked up at her father, “If I could do it, I would be in Hogwarts now with my cousin,” she answered coldly, pointing her wand at the book.

“Accio Books!” she screamed in frustration. This was the fifth time she had tried that day. And no going out until the books came to her…

The books stayed rebelliously in their place. She did not say anything. She did not show emotion. None of them did. There was a silence. Then father clutched his arm, and muttered an unrepeatable four-lettered word. He grabbed some black robes from a peg and dashed to the door, forgetting about his daughter.

“Where are you going?” she cried.

“The Master. He is calling me.”

“The master whose judgement has ruled the household for almost six months? Who you are helping to rid the world of the wrong people?”

He smiled thinly at her and pointed his wand at himself to Apparate. A gripping curiosity had hold of her thirteen-year-old mind. Who was this master? Why did they refer to him in this cryptic way? She ran forward, and grabbed hold of her father’s free hand as he finished the spell. He looked at her with horror as they both apparated away.

They arrived at a grassy field miles away from anywhere. There were many other wizards in hooded cloaks standing silently around in a circle. She watched, silently as well. Her father was standing there, trying to hide his anger. He looked for a way to get her away.

“Have you brought your daughter, Nefarius?” asked an ice cold voice from behind them. Nefaruis and his daughter wheeled around to confront a figure in black like the rest. He was taller than them, however and had a peculiar face- red eyes, a slit nose. This must be the Master. For some reason, she did not feel terrified, like her father seemed to be. In awe, yes; but frightened, no. Nefarius was now grovelling at his master’s feet, apologising more than Mr. Collins…

“Get up, Nefarius. I have use of your daughter.” The silence was deafening. He led her into the centre of the circle.

She felt apprehensive, but not frightened. She was not used to being scared. She would not have survived at home if she had been a timid person. Oh, she had been spoilt well enough before the letter had not come from Hogwarts. Then all had changed.

She looked up at the red eyes of the Master. He smiled at her. “Why have you come, child?” he asked softly.

“I was curious to know about you,” She answered.

“Curious in what sense?” asked Voldemort, still smiling.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about. My parents do not tell me anything, yet I know that your guild rules the household.”

There was a silence. Eventually he asked, “Is your curiosity satisfied now?”

“No.” There was a very noticeable silence now. She elaborated, “Who are you, and what do you do?”

Voldemort paced up and down, her eyes following his every move. At last he said, “What I do is very complicated, child. Do you still want to know?”

“Yes.”

Voldemort paced some more, “There have always been fights between us and the other side. They call themselves the ‘good’ side, and they think we are ‘evil’. They are wrong. There is no real difference, we are both the same, except for which side we belong to. The ‘good’ side is not good. It is ruthless and unforgiving. They put all our side in prison with soul sucking Dementors for nothing at all. That is where all there leaders should be. The other side has had power for many years under Professor Dumbledore-”

“The headmaster of Hogwarts?” interrupted the girl.

“Yes. We meet in private in this manner because otherwise we would end up in Azkaban like the others who foolishly got themselves caught. You, child, are lucky that you do not go to Hogwarts and are not exposed to the brutality of Dumbledore’s side. Do you see now? Do you understand what we are doing?”

“You are going to get enough supporters to eventually throw over the other side. You are the leader. What do you want me to do?”

Voldemort paced some more. He’s making me dizzy, she thought.

“I believe you are not happy in your house at the moment?”

She was caught. If she said she was unhappy she would be in serious trouble with her father, yet it would be a lie to say she was happy. She stayed silent.

He laughed, “You are not happy. Would you like to leave them?”

Nefarius made a strange gagging sound, at which Voldemort frowned. The girl did not notice. To leave her family! To be hand selected by the Master to help fight the other side! Her eyes must have shone with an unusual emotion.

He smiled thinly, “I take it you agree. I will tell you what to do then. You will come with me and live in my castle as its mistress. To all muggles who see might see you, you are a servant. You will live in luxury and when the time comes you will be able to help me overthrow one of the strongest wizards of the other side.”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter...” replied Voldemort, almost lovingly. “Have you heard of this... prodigy?”

“My cousin knows him at school.”

“Lucius’ son?” inquired Voldemort with what almost looked like a grin.

“Yes. He says he is a bigheaded favourite of Dumbledore.”

“Do you agree?”

“I have no evidence to prove the contrary,” answered the girl carefully. The answer seemed to satisfy Voldemort however, for he smiled at her, “Good, I am happy you are the girl I am looking for. Your disability with performing magic is unfortunate, but I will overlook it considering who your family is.”

The girl almost laughed, ‘You sounded like Lady Bracknell then.’

Voldemort was speaking again, “Now you must prove your loyalty to this side. Hold out your arm...”

She rolled back her sleeve and looked at the ugly dark mark on her skin. It had always hurt. The time had now apparently come for her to help her master capture Harry Potter. After all the wait, it should be something good. She was almost looking forward to it. She had not seen anyone apart from the most important Death Eaters for about two years. She hoped she'd get to talk to Harry Potter when he arrived. She wondered if he was really that bad.

*

The holidays had ended. The rest of the school had joined Harry, Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts. Lavender and Parvati came back giggling about their hunky new boyfriends. (“How many can they have in a year?” asked Hermione after having heard a minute description of the charms of Richard (the Lionheart), Lavender’s beloved.)

Dean was full of the latest victories of Westham against Liverpool. Seamus had been on holiday in Ireland and had gone to the home of the Irish national quidditch team, causing Ron and Harry to drool over the photos he had brought back of the training grounds, and even the lavatories. (“Honestly, they’re obsessed,” sighed Hermione after having asked Harry three times about his Potions homework one evening.)

Neville had stayed at home and had caught ‘flu so all were all avoiding him, and Draco Malfoy was bragging about his trip to Ibiza.

Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts, not in time to let the Seniors Ball take place however; it had been cancelled due to the problems at the Ministry. (“What shall we do?” wailed Parvati and Lavender.)

Harry, Ron and Hermione were pleased that the ball was not taking place. None of them enjoyed the school balls, though Harry hadn’t minded them when he had gone with Cho. She hadn’t minded he couldn’t dance. Ron of course couldn’t go with Hermione, not now, which created problems for all three. They hadn’t mentioned the Ball yet, but there was a kind of unspoken relief when they had heard it had been cancelled. “Time to get down to more important things,” Hermione said briskly, upon hearing the news, “like revision, for example.”