Year V

Chapter Seventeen

This Could Be Your Lucky Day...In Hell

Ernie MacMillan , fifth year Hufflepuff Prefect and somewhat pompous, but still an all around nice guy was having a heart attack. Okay...maybe it wasn't a heart attack, but he was certain that it was some sort of stress related ailment that was bothering him. Then again, given what had happened in the last twenty four-hours with the attack on the Ministry and having spent part of the night trying to console Susan Bones and reassuring her that her aunt was fine wasn't exactly how he planned on spending his first night back at school. When Susan's aunt, Amelia Bones, finally contacted them via floo, it send a wave of relief through the entire house who had still not fully recovered from Cedric's death. However, the source of MacMillan's current agitation wasn't the attack on the Ministry. No...it was one Jesse McCade. Sure, the Yank was decent enough, but if the events after breakfast were any indication, Ernie was certain Hufflepuff would be in negative points by the end of the day.

It started out in the morning when they were all in the middle of breakfast and someone realized "the Yank was missing". His first thought was that perhaps Jesse had tried to run off because it was obvious he didn't really want to be at Hogwarts. "Has anyone seen McCade?" he asked, looking down the table. The rest of the Hufflepuffs shook their heads, although he noticed that Zacharias Smith had something of a smirk on his face. "Zach?"

"Hmmm....McCade," said Zacharias as he pretended like he was trying to remember something. "Oh...yeah, that's right. He said something about going out for breakfast this morning. He left about a half-hour before everyone else woke up."

"What!?!" Ernie could already feel the pounding in his head. "You mean he left the school grounds?"

"I would imagine so," said Zacharias. "Unless 'going out' means eating somewhere else in castle other than in here."

"Why didn't you stop him?" asked Hannah.

"Kind of hard to do that when he just vanished."

"What do you mean 'he just vanished'?" said Ernie. "And how do you know?"

"It's kind of hard to sleep when the guy in the bed next to yours is talking to his cat and making more noise than a crazed hippogriff. I asked what he was doing and said he was heading out to go buy some breakfast. Then he grabbed his cat and..." Zacharias snapped his fingers. "Poof! He was gone."

"Poof?"

"Poof."

"How?"

"Don't know exactly, maybe he apparated," said Zacharias with a shrug. "I wouldn't be too worried, he said he'd come back."

"But you can't apparate on the school grounds," said Hannah. "There are wards and various other enchantments to prevent that."

"Well then, I guess we'll have to ask him about that when he gets back."

"Ask me what?" They all looked up to see Jesse taking a seat at their table, book-bag slung over his shoulder and a paper cup in one hand that contained some sort of hot steaming beverage.

"Where you went," said Ernie. "You can't just take off like that without telling anyone...and what is that?"

"Ah, this? A triple-shot mocha with extra chocolate. And I didn't just take off without telling anyone, I told Zach I was heading out...which reminds me." Jesse pulled a paper sack out of his bag then opened it and took out what appeared to be some sort of sugar-glazed pastry before handing the sack to Zacharias. "Told you I'd bring something back."

Zacharias grabbed one of the pastries out of the bag and sniffed it before taking a bite. "Hmm, still warm too. What are they, McCade?"

"Schneeballen, or 'snowballs' if you prefer to call them that...they came out of the oven an hour ago."

"Where did you go?"

"There's this little town called Rothenburg in Germany, cool little place...okay, so it's not that little anymore, but..." Jesse's voice trailed off as he saw the looks of disbelief on their faces. "What?"

"You really expect us to believe you went to Germany for breakfast?" said Hannah.

"To be honest, I don't care what you believe." Jesse took a sip of his mocha and savored the taste for a moment. "Ah yeah...caffiene...food of the gods. Just accept the fact I didn't feel like porridge and toast for breakfast and went out."

"How?"

Before Jesse could answer that question, Joscoe appeared in a tiny flash of light, sitting on the table in front of Jesse and, as always, chewing on a piece of fish. Jesse reached over and scratched the calico behind the ears, ignoring the stunned look on the faces of the other students. "Hey, bud...try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

The calico only purred in response before jumping off the table and running off. Jesse laughed and shook his head. "You should see the look on your faces."

"How did-" began Ernie.

"How did he do that?" Jesse said, completeing Ernie's question. He gave the Hufflepuffs a wink and didn't bother hiding the smirk on his face. "How do you think? Magic!" He then got up from the table and walked off to go talk to the Weasley twins over at their table.

Ernie rubbed the side of his head...yes...there was definitely a headache forming. "Okay...this is not good."

"Ernie, will you relax?" said Justin Finch Fletchley as he helped himself to a snowball out of the paper bag. "It's not like he broke any rules."

"He left the grounds," said Ernie. "If anyone found out, it will cost us points."

"I think you're taking this prefect thing too seriously, mate," said Zacharias as he finished off his snowball pastry. "It's not like we're going to win any house competition with Slytherin and Gryffindor there."

"Of course not," said Susan Bones who had been quiet for most of the discussion. "Our egos aren't big enough. They never were and I don't see why we should start now."

This got some snickers from everyone at the Hufflepuff table, but Ernie wasn't laughing. Just once, he thought to himself, I don't want our house to be looked down on as inferior to the others.

* * * * *

Okay, this sucks, thought Jesse as he made his way from Divination to Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He had just finished his first class and was thouroughly convinced that Professor Sybill Trelawney was a lunatic who inhaled way too much incense. Although to be honest, Jesse was certain that it wasn't just incense the old witch was burning up there.

Amsterdam's not too far from here...that's probably where she got it from.

Divination was a disaster for Jesse. He spent the whole time trying not to choke on the fumes up there and was tempted more than once to tell the lady to shut up every time she claimed that he was a "disturbance to the surrounding" aura. However, things did get interesting when Joscoe suddenly appeared in the classroom and the Divinations teacher suddenly grabbed a broom and went chasing after the calico for part of the class period, screaming that Joscoe was a "sign of chaos and destruction". Joscoe ported out of there eventually, but Trelawney spent the rest of the hour searching for the cat, broom in hand and ready to "shoo away the agent of chaos". Unfortunately, she also burned more of that damned incense in an attempt to "purify the air" when all it really did was make Jesse's eyes water. For awhile, he was tempted to spend the rest of the class watching his hand move, but the bell rang and he got out of there as fast as he could.

Hmmm, I wonder if Dumbledore will let me take Arithmancy instead...nah...probably not, not after my Floo incident. Damn...I make one little mistake and I'm kept out of the cool classes. Maybe I can take Ancient Runes, I can use the extra naptime...

"You! McCade!" shouted someone down the corridor. Jesse looked up and inwardly groaned as he saw two older students from Slytherin House approach him.

Jeez...I really don't need this, Jesse thought. He managed to put on a polite smile, but flicked his wrist and felt his wand slide out of its sleeve compartment and into his hand. "And what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"I am Adrian Pucey," said the first boy who had curly hair and a nose that looked like it was permanently wrinkled as if he was smelling something disgusting. "I'm a seventh year prefect from Slytherin House." He then gestured to the larger boy behind him. "And this is Montague."

Montague glared menacingly at Jesse, which caused Jesse to laugh. "Let me guess, this is about the incident on the train."

"Among other things," said Pucey who didn't bother hiding his disgust. "Your behavior on the train was inexcusable and your presence is an insult to those of us who earned the right to be here."

"Look, can we skip the predictable insults and get to the point?" said Jesse as he started to walk toward his nect class. "Because I have a class in the next few minutes." The one called Montague stepped in his way, causing Jesse to shake his head. "Oh...we're going to do it that way."

Jesse knew that he couldn't take them both on, and because they were upperclassmen it was a good bet they also had more skill when it came to hexes and other unpleasantness. "Look, what happened between me and Malfoy was personal."

"You and Malfoy didn't meet until yesterday on the train," said Pucey. "So don't tell me it was personal."

"You're partially right about that one, I suppose. I didn't meet the brat until yesterday, but I figure he doesn't fall from the tree as far his family goes. If he's anything at all like his father, he deserves more a lot more than he got" He cut off Pucey before he could comment. "And no, I'm not talking about Lucius Malfoy's days as a Death Eater."

The Slytherin hesitated for a moment at Jesse's last remark. "Really? And what exactly made you attack one of us?"

"I didn't attack one of you, I attacked a Malfoy...which, in my opinion, is about the same as flushing a toilet."

"Watch yourself, McCade," hissed Adrian Pucey which had Jesse wondering if the Slytherins actually were part reptile. "Malfoy is one of us and if you attack him again, it will be considered an attack on all of us."

For a moment, everything went silent around Jesse. He could feel the anger burning within him at being threatened by someone he regarded as a pompous jack-ass, but instead of a boiling rage, it was more of a cold and calculating anger. He also noticed that time almost seemed to stand still, everyone frozen in place. It was only a moment, Jesse was certain of it, but it felt like several seconds had passed around him. The "frozen effect" suddenly disappeared when he spoke and a cold-hearted decision was made in the back of his mind. "So you're telling me that you're willing to protect Draco Malfoy?"

"Are you daft, McCade? Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Oh, I heard you," said Jesse, giving the seventh year prefect a cold smile. "I just wanted to make sure I heard you right."

"Good then," said Pucey with a patronizing nod. "Now stay out of our way."

Jesse didn't do anything as they shoved their way past him and continued down the hall...or at least it appeared that way. He waited a few seconds before looking over his shoulder and catching sight of them walking into a classroom. Then he looked down at his left hand...and the leather pouch he had lifted off the seventh year Slytherin prefect when he pushed his way past. He poured a couple gold coins into his hands and chuckled softly. "Big mistake, old-worlder, really big mistake."

In the shadows several feet away, a man stood there, arms folded and shaking his head in disgust as he watched Jesse McCade head off for class. Surprisngly, it wasn't disgust for the American that he felt...in fact, knowing what he did about Jesse McCade's background, Severus Snape didn't consider the boy an American wizard. However, he did consider Jesse to be a potential threat...and now that threat was pointed at all of Slytherin house.

Pucey, you fool! You have made the whole house a target.

* * * * *

If Jesse had thought his encounter with the two Slytherins in the hallway was the worst part of his day, he was proven wrong in his next class. It started out well enough...as long as one ignored the fact that Professor Umbridge was a patronizing bitch who talked down to the class as if she were addressing a room full of small children.

"It was brought to my attention that your education has been rather disrupted and fragmented over these last few years. The constant changing of teachers and the lack of any Ministry approved curriculum has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year."

Jesse rolled his eyes in annoyance. Jeez, can you be any more condescending?

"However," continued the professor in that annoying sickly-sweet voice, "I can assure you that these problems are to be rectified and we will be following a carefully structured, theory centered, Ministry Approved course of defensive magic this year."

Well, I guess that answers my question.

"Please write the following down." Professor Umbridge rapped the blackboard with her wand and words began to appear.

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in defensive magically can be legally used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Jesse choked back a smirk as he finished writing the last of the course aims down. You have got to be joking..this sounds like a load of-

"Now if you would all be so kind as to open your copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."

Jeez, did she rehearse this crap?

However, Jesse kept his mouth shut and simply did what he was told. He caught the professor glaring in his direction for a moment before she returned her attention to the book on on her desk and he had no desire to become a target. However, halfway through the chapter, it became apparent that Wilbert Slinkhard was master of writing wordy sentences that practically meant nothing. In fact, Jesse was starting to wonder if this Wilbert Slinkhard actually even knew about the subject he was writing about. Halfway through chapter one, Jesse gave up and quietly closed his book.

"Hem hem..."

Jesse looked up and saw Professor Umbridge looking at him. "Is there a problem, Mr. McCade?"

Jesse shook his head. "No, Professor Umbridge," said Jesse, dropping a hint of sarcasm on the word 'professor'. "There is no problem."

"Then why did you close your book?"

"Because I felt the material was boring." Jesse ignored the shocked looks he got from other students and focused his attention on the human toad masquerading as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Boring," repeated Umbridge. "So, you...a mere student, and a Yank no less, see yourself as being more knowledgeable in this field than an accredited expert."

"No," said Jesse. "I just find it interesting that this so called 'accredited expert' has nothing meaningful to say within the first ten pages of his book. Perhaps if he actually provided some examples to back up his theories, maybe this book would be worth reading."

"This is Ministry approved material, Mr. McCade," snapped Umbridge.

Jesse rolled his eyes again. "Oh, that explains it then."

"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. McCade?"

Jesse was about to say something, but caught Zacharias shaking his head in warning. "Oh, nothing...nothing at all, Professor."

Umbridge gave him a patronizing nod. "Just as I thought. Ten points from Hufflepuff for disrespecting their superiors."

"Like I care..."

Jesse looked up when he heard the gasps from some of the other students. It wasn't until he saw Umbridge glaring daggers at him that he realized he said that last thought aloud.

"What did you say, McCade?"

Jesse was tempted to deny that he said anything, but simply shrugged instead. He didn't give a damn about house points and he certainly wasn't about to let this human toad intimidate him. "I think you heard me, Professor."

"I don't particularly care for that attitude, boy. Another ten points from Hufflepuff."

Jesse was about tell Umbridge what she could do with her opinion, but the hostile look he got from Ernie MacMillan made him hold his tongue in check. Umbridge glared at him for a few more moments as if daring him to speak. When Jesse didn't say anything, the professor then regained some composure and gave that trademark sickly sweet smile. "Now then," she said, "I want all of you to continue reading the rest of the chapter and there will be no more interruptions."

Jesse opened his book, but didn't bother to see if he was on the correct page. He glanced up and saw Umbridge looking at him again from behind her desk. He knew he had crossed a line with her, but he didn't care. To him, she was just another rigid old-worlder who saw him as some damn Yank with no quality education. The rest of the class period went on without incident. When the bell finally rang, Jesse closed his text book and briefly considered tossing it in the garbage before putting it back in his book-bag.

"Mr. McCade, please remain behind, I would like a word with you."

Reluctantly, Jesse leaned against his desk as he watched the rest of his class leave the room. Umbridge waited a few more seconds after the last student had left and then closed the door to the class room. She then looked over at Jesse, studying him the way a predator would look at its prey. "So," she said after a few more moments of silence, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

"I don't know," said Jesse. "How about we ditch the 'crazed grammar school-teacher' thing you have going here?"

Umbridge's eyes glittered malevolently as she gave Jesse a cruel smile that had him wondering if toads actually had a full set of teeth. "Well, aren't you the defiant one...typical Colonial...thinking that-"

"You know, I'm really getting tired of the whole 'damn Yank shouldn't be here' routine. It wasn't my idea to come here...I'm stuck here, and we all have to deal with it."

"Watch your tone, McCade," growled Umbridge, obviously upset that a student actually interrupted her. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Dolores Jane Umbridge," replied Jesse as if he were reciting something from memory. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic." He gave her smug grin. "Believe it or not, I also know how to read a newspaper."

"Then you know that you are out of line addressing a Ministry official in such a way."

Jesse shook his head and chuckled. "Oh please...given the condescending way you've been treating your students, can you blame me? Do really think that we're stupid little children who don't see what's going on?"

Umbridge gave him a patronizing smile, but there was something in her eyes that told Jesse his comments were on target. "Oh, do tell, Mr. McCade. What is it that you see?"

Jesse ignored her attempt to anger him. "Politics," he said. "Someone doesn't like the way Dumbledore is running the school and I think that particular someone is using his bringing me here as an excuse to find ways to remove the old man. How close am I?"

"Well, I think you place a little too much importance on yourself, Mr. McCade. There are other reasons why I'm here and they are none of your business. However, since you've brought it up...did Dumbledore tell you why you're here?"

Warning bells went off in the back of Jesse's head. He wasn't sure how much Umbridge knew and he wasn't about to tell her why. "He offered to allow me to finish my education at my disciplinary hearing. I was expecting to be kicked out of the Wizarding World, but I got sentenced here instead."

"Ah...yes, the decision made by Clarissa Ridgeton," said Umbridge. "You will be interested to know that she retired shortly after your case."

"Really? Voluntarily...or did you help her out the door?"

Umbridge gave him that annoying smile again. "Very observant, Mr. McCade. Not something I would expect from a child your age."

Jesse bristled at being referred to as a "child". "What can I say? I had a very short childhood."

"And you didn't answer my question, why did Dumbledore bring you here?"

"I thought I answered that one...he was concerned for academic well-being and gave me this chance to finish my education."

"I don't believe that," said Umbridge.

"And neither do I." Jesse grabbed his book-bag and started for the door. "However, that's the only available answer I can come up with."

"I did not dismiss you, Mr. McCade."

"Well, in that case, we're both going to just stand here and miss out on lunch. Then again...I'm not a big fan of kidney pie." He opened the door and was about to step through it when Umbridge spoke again.

"You said you were sentenced here, McCade. I can help you."

Jesse turned back to face the human toad. "Really? Okay...I have to hear this one."

"I can be a very powerful ally, Mr. McCade," said Umbridge. "You want out of here, I'm sure I can make arrangements to send you back to any Colonial enclave of your choice. All I ask is that you tell me all you know of Dumbledore's plans."

"Plans?" repeated Jesse. "You have to be joking."

"I assure you that I am not," said Umbridge. "Dumbledore is planning something against the Ministry and you're in the middle of it."

"And I suppose if I cooperate, you'll allow me to leave."

"Of course. We can contact the Colonial Minister, your grandfather, and he'll be more than willing to-"

Jesse laughed at her and shook his head again. "The Colonial Minister? I thought you said you were trying to help me."

"With his help, we can arrange your return."

"Uh-huh...into a jail cell. Maybe you don't know this, but Grandpa and I aren't exactly on the best of terms...I'm half-guilder and in Grandpa's regime, that makes me less popular than werewolves."

"All the more reason you should cooperate with us, Mr. McCade," said Umbridge. "We can intervene on your behalf."

"I doubt it, but I'll tell you what. Arrange safe passage for me to a Guild Enclave and maybe we'd have a deal."

Umbridge frowned and shook her head. "Impossible, we have no diplomatic relations with the Guilds."

"Well then," said Jesse with a smile as he turned and walked out the door. "I guess we have no deal."

"McCade! We're not done here...McCade! Ten points-" Umbridge was cut off as the door closed shut behind Jesse.

"Bitch," Jesse muttered as he started down the corridor. Needless to say, he wasn't happy with the way things going and he wasn't even half-way through his first day. Oh well, he thought to himself as he headed toward the Great Hall, at least it won't get any worse.

"Congratulations, McCade, you single-handedly cost us thirty points!"

Jesse looked up and saw Hufflepuff Prefect Ernie MacMillan standing there, a scowl on his face.

Okay, I stand corrected.

"I don't have time for this, Ernie," said Jesse as he walked by the other boy. "I've had a pretty bad day, so far."

The other boy reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't walk away from me, McCade, I am a Prefect."

Jesse glanced down at the other boy's arm for a moment. "You know, Ernie. Draco Malfoy did that to me on the train and he ended up in a world of hurt." Then he shot the Prefect a dangerous look. "Let go of me."

Though there was some hesitation in Ernie MacMillan's eyes, and he did let go of Jesse's arm, he didn't back down. "You cost us a lot today, Jesse."

"What? House points?" Jesse shook his head in disbelief. "You think I care about some stupid contest?"

"I don't think you understand, McCade-" began Ernie, but Jesse suddenly turned on him and cut him off.

"No, I don't think you understand," he snapped, his anger from dealing with Umbridge starting to boil over. "I'm only here because I gave my word and was promised a chance to set something right. I didn't ask for this."

"Then why are you really here, McCade?" Ernie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And what did you mean by 'setting something right'?"

Jesse was about to tell Ernie to mind his own business, but stopped himself when he realized that he was the one who said too much. "Walk away from this one, Ernie," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry about the points, but this is something you don't want to get caught in the middle of."

"Seeing as how you were sorted into our house, I don't think we have much of a choice in the matter."

"Trust me on this," said Jesse, a haunted look in his eyes. "Walk away...one of you got killed in this war already, don't add to it."

"Walk away...one of you got killed in this war already, don't add to it."

Ernie MacMillan didn't scare easily, but something in McCade's eyes made him flinch. He could only be talking about Cedric. But how does he know?

"What are you talking about, McCade?"

"I think you already know, Ernie." And with that last comment, Jesse McCade turned and walked off down the corridor.

Okay...there's more going on here than I suspected. Why did Dumbledore bring him here and how much does he know?

"Hmm, he's certainly an strange one, isn't he?"

Ernie turned to see where the voice had come from and saw a younger boy with messy brown year leaning against a wall. When Ernie realized who it was, he couldn't keep the mild disgust out of his voice. "Creevey...shouldn't you be taking pictures for the Harry Potter fan-club?"

The fourth-year Gryffindor student simply shrugged as he stepped away from wall, a large folder in one hand. "I sort of outgrew that phase last year." Colin Creevey had a reputation of taking pictures of everything. Wherever he went, he always seemed to be carrying that damn camera. However, this time, he didn't have his camera with him, which struck Ernie as kind of odd. "Besides," he said as he glanced down the corridor with a slight smirk, "people tend to run when they see me with the camera."

That's when Ernie noticed the faint scars on the left side of Colin's face. "Creevey...what happened to you?"

The other boy shrugged. "Remember that attack on Diagon Alley a few weeks ago? I was at Quality Quidditch Supplies when it got hit."

"Oh." Ernie felt a little guilty. He was not in Diagon Alley that day, but he knew others that were. Hannah Abbot was there and he remembered having to visit her in St. Mungo's afterwards where she was treated for burns and broken bones. "Why didn't you have the healers take care of that."

"It was minor cuts and bruises for me," said Creevey. "Besides, I wanted to ask the Yank about what happened."

"Why?"

"Because he was there right in the middle of it."

"What?" Ernie couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He was there?"

"I do believe that's what I said. In fact, he was there with Potter and Weasley when it happened."

"You must be mistaken," said Ernie as he remembered reading the article in the Daily Prophet that briefly covered the attack on Diagon Alley. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's names were mentioned and there was one scathing editorial that entertained the idea that Potter might have been behind it to make himself look like a hero. While Ernie did think Potter had an ego problem, he didn't seem like the kind of person who would stage something like that.

No, thought Ernie, he wouldn't. Although his ego would demand that he put himself in harm's way without thinking...but McCade didn't say anything about being there during the attack on Diagon Alley. In fact, no one heard of him until the Daily Prophet article the other day.

"McCade would have said something about it if he was there."

"Would he?" asked Creevey as he handed Justin the folder. "Maybe you should ask him what happened since he's in your house."

"What are these?"

"Pieces to a mystery." Creevey gestured at the folder with his hand. "Take a look."

Ernie opened the folder to find three moving pictures inside. From the photographs, it was obvious that they were taken in the middle of the fiery building that had been Quality Quidditch supplies, but one photo caught his interest. He could make out Harry Potter and Ron Weasley standing in what appeared to be a fiery circle, pointing their wands up in the air. But in the middle of the circle, he could make out a third figure, kneeling on the ground, screaming in agony, one arm stretched skyward as if holding something back. "Bloody hell," said Ernie as he recognized the person. "That's McCade."

Creevey nodded as he took the pictures back from Ernie. "Yeah, it's McCade. The photographs don't tell the whole story though. Something hit the building from above, sending fireballs down on us. I don't know what McCade was doing exactly, but whatever he did...he managed to block most of them...until whatever was attacking us started focusing on him." There was a wary look in his eyes as he kept talking. "Then Potter and Weasley stepped in and managed to stop whatever was attacking them. After that, they were screaming for some healers to get in there. McCade was in bad shape, limbs contorted, blood all over him, and he kept mumbling something."

"Why didn't you show these photos to the Daily Prophet?"

"Right," snickered Colin Creevey. "I give those to the Daily Prophet and I'm sure they would love to put a twist on their article and use the photos in such a way that it would look like Harry and his friends were behind the attack. Give me some credit, MacMillan. I may be a little naïve about some things, but I'm not stupid."

"No," Ernie admitted, "you're not. However, why are you showing these to me?"

"I don't know...maybe it's because I overheard you ask the same question loudly that everyone else is mumbling: Why is Jesse McCade here?"

"And the fact that you just happen to be nosey and sticking your nose where it doesn't belong has nothing do with it," snorted Ernie.

Creevey actually laughed and bowed his head slightly. "Guilty as charged," he said. "But let's just say when I see a mystery, I want to find the answers."

"Maybe you should try working for Prophet."

"Hmm, maybe I will. Given the shoddy reporting, I think my stuff would be an improvement." Creevey chuckled at that last thought. "As for McCade...maybe he can shed some light as to what's going on."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Come on, MacMillan, take a look around you. Diagon Alley was attacked, the Ministry was attacked, and one of your own house was murdered by You-Know-Who."

"There's no proof of that," said Ernie.

"But do you really believe the Ministry and the Daily Prophet when they say everything is fine?" asked Creevey. "Tensions are at an all-time high here and those damn Slytherins are acting all smug like they know some big secret."

"Still hearsay and rumours, Creevey. However, I won't deny something's going on, but we don't know the facts and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Well, I don't know about you," said Creevey, "but I don't plan on just sitting around and doing nothing."

"Oh? Going to poke your nose where it doesn't belong?"

"Of course, it's what I do best." Creevey grinned at him. "But what's it going to be for you, MacMillan? You going to do something or just wait until someone picks you off?" He then turned and walked away, leaving Ernie alone again with his thoughts.