Soul Searching

"I don't see why you can't just issue the warning, Cornelius!" Arthur Weasley was tired. Tired of trying to do anything meaningful in his newly appointed position of deputy minister, apparently just a token title. Tired of trying to convince Fudge to see logic. For the past three months he had lost 40 gray hairs. He should know. He had counted.

Fudge gave a haphazard look at the balding wizard and turned back to the other members of the meeting. "Ladies and gentlemen, what you are asking me to do is preposterous. You know that the general public doesn't want to be alarmed any more than they already are! Besides, why should we believe that there's only three months before he comes back? Maybe Potter finally did something right and stopped You-Know-Who from coming back for good!"

The rest of the room gave a tired moan. There was no way of getting through to Fudge. The most esteemed members of British wizarding society sat in the room. They were facing a crisis, and it looked like there was no way to stop it. Then, an old witch stood up. "Fudge, we all know that the only reason that you're not issuing the warning is because this is an election year!"

He stood up and leaned over the table, staring straight at her. "Who are you to speak, McGonagall? Just because you are the headmaster of Hogwarts, (or what's left of Hogwarts), doesn't mean that you can make such accusations! You are only here at this meeting as a guest! And may I remind you where your school gets money from every year!?"

"You fool," she said disgustedly. "You are going to run this whole damn world into the ground. I don't care what anyone thinks anymore. Just contact Potter!"

"I will do no such thing! That disgraceful wizard, he aligns with the Light and then attempts to free a convicted Death Eater! No, I will not stand it! Potter can stay in bloody America and get attacked by demons as much as he wants, for all I'm concerned!"

"You are pathetic, Fudge. The boy may have made mistakes, but he's the only one left who might be able to stop Voldemort!" Several gasps were heard around the room as McGonagall muttered the name. "And you let him rot in America, with those bloody Yanks, just waiting to be taken by the Dark!"

"He already has, Headmaster, if you haven't noticed!"

Before she could hex Fudge, McGonagall left the room, cursing under her breath. She was quite a sight to see, her billowing tartan whipping behind her as she stormed out the door. She trudged down the long corridor, searching for a fireplace, anywhere where she could find to get her back to Hogwarts. She had been a fool to come. Fudge didn't care. He never did. She had almost made it to the nearest fireplace, situated in a corner of a room at the far end of the hall, when a hand grabbed her arm.

"We can't call Harry, Minerva." She turned around to find the friendly face of Arthur Weasley staring at her. Arthur gave her a faint smile, one of appeasement, and led her to the nearest seat.

She gave him a look of indignation. "I don't see why not! He's our last damn hope..."

"...and he's going to just sit and laugh as Voldemort rises again. If he cared at all, he never would have left in the first place." finished Arthur.

The headmaster's face grew hard. "Harry was wrong about everything. You know that. But why do you blame it all on him?"

Arthur gave a hollow laugh. "Minerva, you never saw what Harry did for Ron. He was Ron's friend, a better friend Ron could not have asked for."

"Then why blame him if he brought so much happiness into Ron's life?"

"Because Harry couldn't save Ron. He was there. Sitting in the same room. He watched as the bloody rat killed him! And yet he did nothing. Ron would have given his life for Harry. But Harry watched as he died."

McGonagall gave a small sigh. "Oh, Arthur. Harry was just another boy. I wish we could have seen that sooner. He has had so much weight to hold, to keep everyone alive."

"He won't get any sympathy from me. Maybe he should plead his case for Fred and George. Too bad they are in St. Mungos! Or how about Percy, the Death Eater!" He cringed as he let the foul word out of his mouth.

McGonagall laid a hand on Arthur's. "Dark times are ahead, Arthur. A heavy heart cannot help win this battle."

Arthur turned away, and stalked back to the meeting, quite sure that they didn't miss him, while McGonagall walked through the bright green flames of the fire back to Hogwarts.

~*~

Harry took out the chessboard. Ron started setting up the pieces. Harry was white; Harry was always white. He had stopped protesting this arrangement after several years of playing with Ron. Ron was always black.

Harry sighed. "I haven't played in so long, Ron."

Ron's eyes twinkled, his youthful face gave a grin. Ron was 16, and his eyes showed it. But Harry's countenance was slumped. His face was rough with stubble. How many years had it been since Harry had been as young as Ron was now?

Ron's grin broke out into a laugh. "Don't worry. I'll be easier on you." Harry smirked. Ron never went easy. He had skill, and he wasn't embarrassed to show it.

Harry began the game by advancing the king's pawn, and so did Ron. Harry played the game timidly; he didn't want to be aggressive today. Ron noticed.

"Sometimes you have to come out of the shadows, Harry. You'll never get anything done if you hide. But first you must wait until the right time. Don't waste your efforts," he grinned as he took the bishop that Harry had slowly been advancing.

Harry took up the challenge and started darting around the board, taking simple pieces wherever he could. Ron looked slightly impressed by his change of tactic.

With a triumphant look, Harry moved his king and took Ron's knight, leaving only one lone pawn in the wake. At this rate, Harry believed, he could win the game with only a few more moves. But when he looked at Ron, the teenager's face was glowing. He came and took the king from behind, with the simple pawn. "Checkmate," he said with a definite finality.

Harry looked frantically around the board. It was true. Ron had managed to find the one hole in Harry's game, and had used it to his advantage. "I don't believe it!" Harry said exasperatedly.

Ron gave Harry a slight grin. "Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the good of another, although it may not seem right at the time."

Harry looked up to the eyes of his friend. He was so young, and he would always be this way. It was because of him. "I'm so sorry, Ron." He buried his heavy eyes into his hands.

"I don't blame you, Harry. Don't be a stupid git, go, make amends." Harry looked up at Ron, his face was stone, serious. "Go. Go help those who you still can."

Harry felt a cold sweat, he wanted more answers. But Ron was gone. He was back in his bed, in his hotel. Harry was gasping, the dream felt so real. But no, Ron was dead, and Harry was alive. And that was what mattered.

~*~

Hermione sat stiffly at the booth. She was waiting. Her back was upright. Any potential men immediately swerved when they saw her face. She didn't want to play. Besides, she was tired. She couldn't put in all the effort of love to loose it again. And she would loose it.

As she sat, eating her pudding, she contemplated the future. It was less than three months until Harry's spell would end, bringing back Voldemort, to his full power. And the Death Eaters were already getting ready. The attacks had been more often. They seemed to be attacking almost daily now. Of course, they seemed like simple things from the outside world. The Ministry still managed to hide the whole affair from the Muggles. But the blood curdling screams, the illuminated Dark Marks, they were becoming more and more a part of life.

Hermione impatiently checked her watch again. Parvati was late. But Hermione could afford to wait. She had no job, nothing to tie her down. The wizarding world wouldn't hire her, in fear of the retribution of employing a Muggle-born. And she wasn't qualified to do Muggle work, even if she wanted to. She was a new class of people- not accepted in either world. Even Muggle-sympathizers were in danger now. The Weasleys were one of the only pureblooded Muggle sympathizers left, and it was only because of Arthur Weasley's good standing in the Ministry. This was not the future that was promised to her. Her outlook was bright, she was a smart witch. And now, it was all lies. No one could fulfill any of the promises.

After three more butterbeers, she finally showed. Hermione had asked to meet with Parvati for information. It was not a social call.

They stiffly shook hands. "Good evening" said Hermione.

Parvati nodded. The tension was obvious in her eyes. It was not safe for her to be meeting with Hermione. The Death Eaters only needed a reason, and then they would attack.

Hermione pressed on. "What is going on? Is the ministry prepared for His return?"

"You know I can't tell you that until I have my payment," Parvati said slyly. She was a good listener, and because of her position in the Ministry, she was able to pick up many pieces of useful information.

"You're charging an old school chum for information!" she said exasperatedly. She took the money out of the purse and put it on the table.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, you know I am. But I have to be able to feed myself. The Ministry made cutbacks last week. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be employed. Plus, you must keep in mind the risk I am putting myself through to be in contact with you."

Hermione sighed. "I know, Parvati, and you know how thankful I am for it. So, what about Arthur Weasley?"

"Of course, Arthur Weasley can't do anything. The poor man. I heard that the only reason he was appointed was because the Ministry felt so horrible about all of his sons' fates. Poor Ron," said Parvati.

A look of sadness flickered across Hermione's face, but she continued. "What about His return?"

"You know the ways of the ministry. Fudge insists on calling meeting after meeting. I think he's trying to stall the whole subject. Everyone's getting fed up. Today, McGonagall walked out of the meeting."

"Why?!"

"Fudge won't listen to what she's saying. She keeps pressuring him to just swallow his pride and contact Potter, but he refuses."

With this, Hermione's heart leapt. How could she forget about his announcement yesterday: he had a plan. And that was something that they ministry didn't have.

"But really, what is the point of contacting Potter? He's not going to come. McGonagall doesn't see that. Harry doesn't care."

Hermione's head snapped. "Yes. It is a shame. But it's not Harry's fault. It never was. It was all because of Voldemort." She said this last word with scorn, and quietly, as not to alarm anyone else. "It not important whether he /cares/ or not. Harry is the only one who can really do anything."

Parvati gave a small, scornful laugh. "You're just being sentimental, Hermione."

Hermione stood up. "Maybe I am. But it's better than being bitter. I'm tired of being cold." She slammed the rest of the money on the table. "For your help," she said with scorn before she Apparated out of the room.

Parvati stared at the extra money with surprise, and then scooped up the litter of coins. She slunk out of the room, her purse heavier than before, a slight smirk on her face.