At What Price?

It's been about eight months since I posted the last chapter. In light of that, I thought it might be a good idea to remind everyone what has come before.
When last we left our great and mighty heroes: Hermione is still recovering from a life-after-death shock following being poisoned by a monster at the gateway to Platform 9 3/4, and then having her medicines tampered with by person(s) unknown. Following an intimate encounter with Hermione, Ron has discovered he is a powerful seer because he is the seventh son of Arthur and Molly. Thanks to the instruction of a Vistani (gypsy) witch named Marix he has come into a deck that gives him great powers as a seer. Abuses of his power have led to problems, not the least of which was a knock down, drag out fight between he and Harry. Finally, Harry has ascended to the position of Head of the Order of the Phoenix following the murder of Albus Dumbledore at the order of Voldemort. The same night as his induction to the Order, Harry also discovered he is the Heir of Gryffindor. The responsibility for protecting Hogwarts has now fallen to him. His greatest rival is the rightful heir, Voldemort. In the larger world, Cornelius Fudge has finally been brought down by scandal upon scandal. Public elections are to be held for his replacement. The contenders are Lucius Malfoy and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Jack Boot (father of Ravenclaw- Terry Boot). Harry has thrown his support behind Jack Boot, and even spoken at a public rally on his behalf.
At What Price in a post- Order of the Phoenix world. Obviously, AWP was begun before OotP, and there was no way to anticipate some of the happenings there. I deliberately left much of the back story of AWP undeveloped so that I could absorb as much of OotP as possible. The events of 5^th year, including the trip to the Ministry, happened pretty much as written with a couple of notable exceptions. First, Ron and Hermione are together. Second, Sirius did not die, someone else did. There are also two character changes I could not make. First, Mrs. Figg is a witch, and a powerful one at that. She will continue to appear as written and no attempt will be made to reconcile her with OotP. Second, Ginny has been pining for Harry for years, in AWP. This is in direct contrast to OotP, but is a change that I cannot reverse without having to re-write half the story. Last, but not least. I created the Order of the Phoenix as an organization going back hundreds of years, dedicated to the purpose of good above all else. I suppose if I had really thought about it JKR's way made more sense, but I'm stuck with what I've created. So there we are. Hope you enjoy, let me know if you did; let me know if you didn't, too. Now, on with the show...

Returning to Normal

"She was a bit surprised, wasn't she?" Ron said to Harry in rather self-congratulating tone. "Never even saw that one coming." Harry agreed as he gathered some books into his bag. "Granted," Ron continued, "she walked into it, and we did have the advantage that she's been in the hospital wing for the last week. It was nice to see her smiling though."

"I think everybody else was glad to see her back, too," Harry replied. "Did you see that Lavender and Parvati even went so far as to make sure her study area was cleared out for her?"

"Yeah, I did. That was magnanama- phtht. That was nice of them." Ron picked up the redwood box and was about to stick it in his bag when Harry grabbed his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked. Ron gave Harry his best 'trust me' look. Harry scowled in response. "Is this what you had Marix bring you the deck for, so you could show off?"

Ron scowled and yanked his hand back out of Harry's grasp. "I won't say that's the stupidest question you've ever asked." He stuffed the box down into his bag.

"Look, I just think it's a bad idea for you to take that with you. Yes, it's really nice. It looks very expensive-"

"Is that what you think this is about?" Ron snapped at Harry. He yanked his bag up onto his shoulder. "You think I'm still worried about that, after everything that's happened?" Ron shook his head and pushed past Harry. "I thought you knew me better than that." Without looking back he headed down the stairs to walk Hermione to class.

Hermione's Arithmancy classroom was in an isolated hall that shielded it from the chaos and noise of students rushing to class. "Ron," Hermione said with a trace of annoyance in her voice, "give me my bag and get to class." She held out her hand to accept the satchel that carried her books.

"Nah, your Arithmancy class is a lot more interesting. I've learned more in here in the last week than I learned in three years in Divination." He kept her satchel draped over his shoulder and tried to steer her toward the room.

"Hey, Ron," said a female voice from behind them. "Did you get that change of schedule you wanted?"

"Hey, Susan," Ron replied. "Nah, looks like the Head Girl is shooting my plans full of holes."

"Me?" Hermione said in an indignant tone.

"That's too bad." Susan stopped and hugged Hermione. "It's good to see you back." She reached over and put a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder. "You should let him change his schedule. He adds a lot to the class, takes us in some really different directions." Susan leaned in close and whispered, "But it's just because he don't know the rules yet. He keeps trying to apply basic numerology to advanced derivation." She grinned at Ron, knowing he'd heard every word. "His and Draco's bantering keeps it lively though." She opened the door and headed into the classroom.

"You heard her," Ron said. "You shouldn't keep me out."

"If you had listened to me four years ago, you wouldn't be in this mess now." Ron mouthed her every word as she said it. She stomped her foot. "Stop mocking me!" He grinned as he put his hands on his hips and stomped his foot. "Now, give me my bag and go to your own class." He shook his head. "Please."

"Like Trelawney is going to teach me anything about Tarot."

Hermione smiled, leaned up and kissed him lightly. "Then go dazzle her with your brilliance, and show her how a real seer does things."

"Well, since you put it that way." He carried her bag into the room and set it down at her desk- dead center, front row. "I'll see you in the greenhouses." He grabbed her, swung her around and laid her down so that she dangled in his arms as he kissed her. There were some cheers, and some jeers. Once he had heard these, he stood her back up. He grinned at her; she was red as a ripe tomato. "See ya, toots." He scampered out of the room as she slapped at him and threatened all manner of physical harm.

He strode through the halls heading for the seventh floor, whistling to himself and wondering what manner of physical harm Hermione was dreaming up for him. He had been pretty sure how she would react to his trying to go her class. She had almost come unglued when she found out he was skiving of Divinations to take Arithmancy notes for her, but she did appreciate it. It was only two classes though,

"Finally decided to join us for class?" Dean asked as Ron joined the group of students waiting in the hallway.

"Dean," Parvati said, "if you'd paid any attention in class last week you would have known he'd be back today. Professor Trelawney said the prodigal would return."

"I thought that wasn't supposed to happen till Christmas though," questioned Neville. The door opened and the silvery ladder that led to the Divination classroom appeared.

"Welcome back, Ron." Trelawney was using her voice of the mystic as Ron had taken to calling it. "Won't you lead the others in?" she called from the shadowy recesses of the attic classroom. Ron grabbed the handrail and proceeded to pull himself up. He didn't address her as he entered the room and looked around. Nothing had changed. She had all the trappings of a genuine fraud. Now though, he recognized them for what they were. "I see you're returning to the true path," she said in a very smug voice.

"Sure," Ron replied with all the sarcasm he could muster. She was already grating on his nerves. He was sure she was going call on him today since he had missed a week of class. He hoped she wouldn't, not because he wasn't ready, but because he didn't want to make her look that bad. The rest of the class filed in and took their seats. Ron took his standard spot by the window, still wishing that Harry had not dropped the class after O.W.L.s.

Professor Trelawney called the class to order. She hadn't gotten any better at divination, but following her return to the classroom a year ago she had at least started to develop something that resembled a lesson plan. "Now, I'm sure all of you are ready to do your Tarot readings. Who would like to go first?" Ron sank back into his chair while Parvati and Lavender both jumped at the chance, but her eyes swept past them.

He knew she was going to call on him, she always did. She said it was because "the spirits clustered around him." Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. He thought that it had more to do with the fact that he had failed his O.W.L. and she just liked to use him as an opportunity to puff up her own ego. He grinned to himself;

He stood up and reached into his bag. The feel of the ancient redwood box calmed his agitation. Ron pulled up an old ladder-back chair and sat down at the professor's small table. The class gathered around them. He opened the box slowly

"That is very fine deck," Professor Trelawney said. Ron could hear the implied too fine a deck for your meager skills.

"Thanks," he replied in an off-hand manner. "It was a gift from a friend." He made a conscious effort to sound casual. "So

Ron took a deep breath, set his hands on the table, and slipped into the trance he had been working on for the last month. As soon as he relaxed he felt the infinite darkness dotted only by far away stars and the presence of the deck. This was what he had been working on, sensing the deck and the power around it. She cut the deck-

"Hello Professor," he said as she appeared before him. He noted that her image looked nothing like her. Her image was that of a tall woman draped with rich robes bearing symbols of power and surrounded by a swirling cloud of mist that looked like ghosts and faeries. He wondered idly if that was how she really saw herself, or if that was how she was. She looked around frantically. "Calm down, you're disrupting the reading." He was pleased by the look on her face; she was utterly shocked.

"Wh-where am I? What is this place? Wh-who are you?"

Ron wanted to be flippant, to answer in an offhand manner, but found that he couldn't. Instead he answered her, "I am Ronald Arthur Weasley, seventh son of Arthur and Molly Weasley."

"B-b-but," and then her expression changed, like someone had turned on a light. "Seventh son." Now her expression changed again. "I don't want you to answer my question." She sounded frightened. "I want to leave."

"Why?"

"I," her eyes were very wide, "I don't want to tell you!" He could sense palpable fear coming from her now. "Don't make me tell you."

He felt pity as he looked at her, but somewhere deep inside him he also malicious joy. He wanted to force her to tell him, to find out her shame. In this place, he realized, he could not lie, and neither could she. He could lord over her, force her to submit to his power. It would pay her back for her insults and the derision he felt when she picked on him. You could, a voice whispered deep inside him, you could make her tell you. Make her subservient to your power.

"No!" Ron shouted and banished the vision. When he opened his eyes he was lying on the floor, still sitting in the ladder-back chair

Neville was kneeling next to him, trying to keep the others back. "Ron, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I think so." Neville pulled him to his feet. Across the table Professor Trelawney was staring at him in wide-eyed horror. Parvati, Lavender, and Dean were gathered around her, trying to make sure she was okay. Parvati shot him a look of deepest contempt.

"What happened?" Dean asked the question that everyone else was thinking. Ron looked at Professor Trelawney and felt the eyes of everyone looking back and forth between them. He glanced down to see that the cards were completely disorganized, not the neat stack they should have been. Neither he nor Professor Trelawney said a word.

"What did you do to her?" Parvati yelled at Ron.

"Nothing," Ron mumbled.

"It's okay," the professor said in a slightly dazed tone. "Leave us alone, please."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Parvati hissed. "He was hurting you."

"No, I wasn't," Ron replied. "I couldn't have hurt her."

"Then how do you-"

"If you leave, you might find out!" Ron shouted. He stood up and kicked the trap door open. The silvery stairs appeared again. Ron watched the boys leave; Parvati and Lavender were both reluctant to do so. They finally left when Professor Trelawney assured them she was okay.

He and the professor sat in silence for several minutes. "Are you really a seventh son?" she asked. "I only remember you having five brothers."

"One died when he was very young," Ron said quietly. "It was years before I was born. I had forgotten about it until this summer." The silence stretched out again.

"Where did the deck come from?" She reached out and almost touched it, but quickly pulled her hand away. "It must have been some friend to give you something this expensive."

"She's a Vistani witch. She said it came to her from another old Vistani witch; that she was just holding it until it found it's rightful owner." He reached out and turned over the top card, the four of Swords. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just... wanted you to see...."

"How did you do it? I've never experienced anything like that."

Ron sighed. "I can't tell you, I just can." Nothing was said for a long moment. "Harry was right, I shouldn't have brought this to class."

"He was right." Her voice was beginning to get back some of its normal tone. "Marble tile decks like that are expensive. Do you have another deck you can use for class?" Ron nodded. "I don't think you should bring this one back then. If you want, I'll keep it here for you."

"No!" Ron replied very quickly. She gave him a curious look. "The deck is... precious... to me." He put the card back on top and proceeded to quickly put away the deck. Finally, the deck secured in its box, he spoke again. "I didn't mean to frighten you, I just... wanted you to see that I could... that I know what I'm doing."

She swept herself away from the table. "I was right about you," she said, her voice regaining some of its haughtiness. "I said the spirits were with you, and I was right." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Tell your classmates they can go, and be ready for class on Wednesday. Please send Lavender and Parvati up to attend me."

"What?" Ron asked, but she was leaving through a curtain in the back. He muttered to himself, collected his and Neville's things and opened the trap door. "She said we can leave early." Ron handed down books for the other boys.

"Why didn't you hand down our books?" Lavender asked as he crawled through the hole.

He dropped to the floor. "Because Professor Trelawney wants you to come up and attend to her." As he turned to walk away he noticed that the girls scampered up the rope like rats escaping a drowning ship.

-------------------

"So what's Sirius like as a professor?" Hermione asked Harry as she sat down at her desk. She wasn't sure that she liked how Sirius had changed the room. It looked nothing like it had when Professor McGonagall had taught here.

"He's brilliant," Ron replied before Harry could answer.

"Harry, did your voice change?" She still hadn't forgiven Ron for embarrassing her in front of Professor Vector. Whether it was his intention or not, and she was sure he would insist that it wasn't, it was what had happened.

"No, Granger," Draco interrupted from behind them. "Potter's just using ventriloquism to talk through his dummy again." Ron shot up out of his seat and grabbed Draco by the front of his robes. Draco smiled. "Five points from Gryffindor for assaulting an authority figure." He shoved Ron's hands away, pushing him back into his own desk.

"Malfoy," Sirius shouted from the doorway as he entered. "Ten points from Slytherin for fighting in my class. You okay there, Ron?" Ron stood up and smirked at Draco.

"Fine, Sirius."

"Good." Professor Black strode to the front of the room and turned to face the class. "Alright class. Last week we finished your assessments and-

"I just thought I should bring to your attention that not everyone here has done their assessments, unless, of course, you and the Head Girl have worked out something. After all, we wouldn't want you to play favorites or anything."

Hermione put her hands on her desk and levered herself up. "That won't be a problem, Professor Black." She kept her hands on the chair to help her maintain balance. "What do I need to do?"

"Are you sure,

"Positive."

"Alright, transfigure a desk into an animal and back."

She smiled and took a deep breath. She spun on her heel and changed Draco's desk into a large black and white pig. His books fell to the floor and his ink bottle shattered, spilling its contents on his shoes. She then transfigured the pig into a large grandfather clock that chimed loudly. This she changed into a large eagle, and then into a pile of muddy fertilizer that she held suspended in the air above Draco's lap. Its pungent stench made her wrinkle her nose.

"Change it back into a desk, Granger." Draco's eyes were flashing with what Hermione guessed was anger.

"Whatever you say," she replied with a wan smile. She raised her wand, and a wave of dizziness passed over her. She couldn't even fight it as the ground came rushing up at her.

"NO!" she screamed. The vision shattered only to be replaced by a warm enveloping darkness that would hold her fast till the sun next rose.

--------------------------

Harry was just serving himself up some dinner when he heard somebody right behind him swear loudly. "What is it, Terry?" he asked without looking away from the roasted pheasant he was cutting.

Terry turned around and slapped a special edition of the Daily Prophet

Harry looked down and read the caption. "Jack Boot-ed Thugs on the Rampage." The picture underneath showed a picture of several Aurors subduing a crowd. In the middle of the picture, ropes were coming out of Jack Boot's wand and binding a young woman. Harry recognized the girl as Candice Nott, a seventh year Slytherin whose father sat on the Board of Trustees for St. Mungo's. "Bloody hell," Harry growled as he read the accompanying article.

"Potter, shame about your buddy, Jack."

Harry looked up from the article. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled. "To offer my condolences on your impending loss. You too, Terry."

"What are you talking about?" Terry snapped.

"What, can't you read?" Malfoy reached down and flipped the paper open.

"Wait a minute," Harry said, looking up from the paper. "Why are we getting the Prophet at dinner time?"

"Special Election Eve edition," Draco replied with a smug smile. "Well, enjoy your reading. I know I did." Harry watched as Draco walked away with his head held high.

"Smarmy git," Terry growled.

"Not exactly the words I would have used," Harry replied. "How bad do you think this is?"

"Not as bad as you might think, but bad enough." Terry sat down next to Harry. "By this point most people have made up their minds. This is mainly aimed at the swing vote, people who are still on the fence. It's not good though." Terry sighed as he flipped the page, "And I was so looking forward to moving into the Minister's palace."

"You might still," Harry replied, doubting the words as he said them. "A lot of people saw that Dark Mark."

"Maybe," Terry replied.

"Don't give up." Harry stood up and clapped Terry on the shoulder. "Fight the good fight. If we don't, nobody else will." Terry sat up a little straighter and looked

"Not that it mattered," Harry muttered as he left the Great Hall. The charges hadn't stuck. Sure, the Ministry had been forced to admit the return of Voldemort; but the trials following the incident had been a fiasco. The Malfoy legal team had defended every one of the people that had been arrested in the Ministry that night. The only ones convicted were the escapees from Azkaban, but Bellatrix still remained at large.

The Ministry hadn't been able to prove who was responsible for Snape's death, though the Daily Prophet had tried to lay that one at his feet. It had almost stuck, with a little help from some 'anonymous classmates' that knew 'how much he despised the potions master.' Popular support had been on Harry's side, though, in the groundswell of support he received. Most people chalked it up as the last gasp of the anti-Potter campaign.

Harry looked up as someone called his name from the door of the library. Jennifer Boot was running out, Ginny right behind her. "Harry, glad we caught you," she said between breaths. "We need your help. Did you see the paper?" Harry nodded. "We need you to help rally support. There are twenty-one students who

"I'm sorry Jennifer, I have-"

"Harry, please," interrupted Ginny.

"What's that?" Harry asked, noticing the black ink all over Ginny's fingers. He noticed that Jennifer's hands were covered too.

"Letter campaign," she said with a smile. She opened her bag to reveal a huge pile of letters. "Just doing what I can to help out. We're co-opting all of the school owl's to deliver them." She gave Harry a sly wink.

"Ginny, I'm not so sure-"

"Harry," Ginny interrupted him again, "the battle lines are drawn."

"I'm not going down without a fight." Jennifer drew herself up and fire blazed in her eyes. "My father must win."

Harry considered her for a long second. He had never fully trusted her; she was a Slytherin after all. However, he recognized the righteous fury burning inside her; she would fight, fight to the death. He extended a hand to her. "Where do we start?"

-----------

It was late when Harry finally returned to the Gryffindor common room. Several students were still up, though. He noted that Parvati, Lavender and several other younger girls were all gathered around the table where Hermione normally studied. One of them glanced up and saw him. The table fell absolutely silent, and Harry could feel their eyes on him as he turned and went up the stairs.

The dorm room was dark when Harry entered, but it wasn't empty. Lighting a candle, he walked over to Ron's bed and rapped on the bedpost. "Not now," replied a voice from within the closed curtains.

"You sound awfully calm," Harry replied. It was unnerving talking to Ron through the closed curtains, so Harry opened them. Ron was sitting in middle of the bed. At his feet, six of the marble tiles were laid out in a pentagram pattern with a single card in the middle.

Ron's eyes were still closed. "She's finally sleeping. This isn't going to work much longer though- she's pushing the boundaries. She almost caught me earlier."

"Then maybe you should stop."

"No!" Ron's eyes snapped open. "Harry, something evil is slinking around trying to get inside her head. I won't let that happen."

"I know."

Ron nodded his agreement. "So, where you been all night?"

"Helping Ginny and Jennifer with some campaign stuff."

"I saw the article. How bad is it?"

"Not too bad.

"What?! No, I didn't try to kill her."

"I know that Ron, but something happened." Ron relayed the story; Harry listened and nodded in all the right places. "I won't say I told you so, but..."

"I didn't-" Ron started. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Can we just drop it? I'm not taking it back again."

"That's good. Look, about this morning. I shouldn't have sold you short. I just... you know."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I know. For what it's worth..."

Harry held up his hand to indicate the conversation had gone far enough. "Now that all the other boys know about the deck, you want me to lock it up where no one can get to it?"

"No!" There was a brief pause. "I need it here, for now." Ron pointed at the arrangement by his feet. "I need it for Hermione's protection until we figure out what's going on, or she's well enough to take care of herself."

"So it's working?"

"Seems to be. This morning when I went to check on her she said she slept really well, best she had in a week. She suspects something though."

"Of course she does; this is Hermione. Have you got your Potions homework done yet?"

"Haven't touched it, you?"

"Some;

-------------

The main hall was a bustle of activity the next morning when Harry, Ron, and Hermione came out from breakfast. Just inside the door a large table was set up. Sitting at the table were Professor McGonagall, Terry Boot, Draco Malfoy, a goblin that looked vaguely familiar, a witch that Harry didn't recognize, and a face he'd hoped to never see again. One of the witches was holding a large polished black staff. Several other students began to gather around.

A very short woman in a hideously ugly pink sweater stood up.

"Why's Draco sitting there?" Ron asked.

"Because, Weasel, I'm the official campaign representative for my father. I'm here to make sure you don't cheat."

"So that's why there are five other people here," Harry interjected, "to make sure you don't cheat." Several people laughed. Harry noticed that Jennifer was smirking, but didn't quite laugh.

"Hem, hem," Dolores cleared her throat. Reluctantly, everyone settled down. "You will collect your ballots from me, make your selections, and place them in the box. If there are any problems, you will be detained by Janice Lovegood and charged with interfering in a public election. Are there any questions?"

"Who are all the other people?" somebody in the back asked.

Jennifer stood up, "I'm-" she was interrupted by Delores Umbridge clearing her throat again.

"I'm sorry dear, you're just here to observe. I will do the talking." She pointed at the woman with the black staff. "This is Janice Lovegood, Acting Chief of Law Enforcement. The gentleman at the far end of the table is Draco Malfoy, official representative from the Malfoy campaign. Professor McGonagall-" Dolores was interrupted as McGonagall loudly cleared her throat.

"That's Headmistress McGonagall, if you would be so kind, Ms. Umbridge."

"Oh, yes of course," she replied in a sugary voice. "Headmistress McGonagall is an unofficial observer. The young lady to my right is Jennifer Boot, here as an official representative from the Boot campaign." She sat back down, though the height of her chair kept her head at the same level it had been before.

"I am Griphook," the goblin stated in a highly annoyed tone. He spoke over Umbridge's very pronounced attempts to stop him. "I am here as an official representative of the Runnymede campaign."

"Runnymede?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Yes," she replied quietly, as the students began to queue up. "He's a running on a platform calling for the creation of a constitution of government that would-" She was interrupted by Ms. Umbridge calling her up to the voting table.

"Hermione-" She didn't answer him though. Instead, she went up to the table and gave her name.

"I'm sorry

"That's fine." Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. "I have my registration card right here. You'll see that it was stamped by the office of records last December." After some show

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but your name isn't on my list."

"You didn't even look."

"I'll look again." She glanced down at the paper. "No, sorry, no Potter." Jennifer started to say something. "Miss Boot, I would remind you that you are here to observe, not to interfere in official Ministry business." Harry was frantically searching his pockets, but knew very well that his card was not on him. "Unless you have a registration card, you'll need to move along, Mr. Potter."

"This isn't over yet," Harry said as he turned and walked away. Ron encountered the same problem.

"Potter, Weasley." McGonagall was motioning for Harry and Ron to join her off to the side.

"Minerva," Dolores said in a cloying voice, "I believe you are here as an observer."

"An unofficial observer, as you so keenly pointed out. Now, if you will excuse me." She led Harry and Ron around the corner. "Did you both register to vote?"

"Yes ma'am," Ron responded. "We went down with my dad a couple of days before school started."

"Do you have your cards?" Both boys shook their heads. "Do you know where they are?"

"My house," Ron replied. Harry nodded agreement.

"Very well," she replied. "Go up to Professor Svedmark's office and ask to use his fire to call your mother. Tell him you have my permission." The boys took off down the hall. "Don't make a habit of this," she called after them.

"Why Svedmark's office? " Ron asked as they climbed the last flight of stairs to his office.

"He's our new head of house." Harry was about to knock on the door when he noticed that the entire doorframe was inscribed with runic letters. "Any idea what these say?"

"Nope. Hermione could probably tell us though. You don't think it's some kind of spell, do you?"

"Probably not." Harry reached out and knocked on the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when the runes didn't start to glow or the door blow up.

"Ya, come in," responded a voice with a heavy Nordic accent. Harry opened the door. The offices of the various professors usually reflected their personalities. McGonagall's was very neat and orderly; Sprout's was filled with plants and smelled of fresh earth. However, this office was unique, even for Hogwarts. The ceiling was high and peaked, and had the look of thatch. There were pillars with engravings running floor to ceiling. Shields and weapons adorned the walls. A huge wooden desk dominated the center of the room. Behind it sat a man with long stringy blond

"Ah, Professor Svedmark?"

"Ya, and you vould be Mr. Potter and Mr. Veasley, no? Please, come in." He stood up and shook each of the boys'

"Actually, Professor, we came up here because we need to use your fire," Ron answered. Harry then proceeded to explain why.

"Very vell, go ahead boys." He indicated his fireplace, which was actually a large open hearth. "Floo powder for calling is in the pot marked 'speak'." Side by side sat two identical clay pots, both a non-descript gray with raised runic designs painted blue. Each was marked with a single large rune.

"Ah, Professor?" Harry asked. "Which is which?"

"The vun on the left. My apologies, I am not used to having students that cannot read the runes."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry turned to Ron, "Why don't you call." Ron knelt down on the floor, cast the powder into the flames, and stuck his head in. A few minutes later he pulled it back out, looking a little worse for wear and with two slightly singed index-size cards sticking out of his mouth. "Everything okay?"

"No," Ron said, handing Harry his card. "Thank you, Professor. Nice to meet you." Harry thanked the professor as Ron practically pulled him out of the room. Harry noted that Ron's eyes were big as saucers. Panic tinged his voice. "Mum did her annual cleaning of my room yesterday."

"So?"

"She found a couple of letters from Hermione." Harry shrugged. "These were not the kind of letters I wanted my mother to find. She's threw a wobbly- she was still yelling when I left."

"That bad?"

"You know my mother, everything is a crisis of monumental proportions." Ron grimaced. "You remember how mad she was when me, Fred and George came and got you in the Anglia?" Harry nodded. "This is way worse. I am so dead. I hope she doesn't say anything to Hermione."

"Just tell her before your mum has a chance to say anything. Now come on, we need to get going." They raced down the halls and the several flights of stairs to the main hall. A long line of adult wizards and witches were now queued up in front of the voting table. Harry glanced down at his watch; ten minutes until class started. He took his place at the end of the line. Ron was fidgeting quite a bit, glancing at his watch every two or three seconds. The first bell for class rang. Ron's restlessness got worse. The second bell rang.

"Harry, you realize we have two minutes to make it to the dungeons. I don't think we really need an extra essay on top of everything else we have to do."

"You go ahead," Harry snapped

"I told you, Mr. Potter," her voice all sugar and honey, "your name is not on my list." Harry slapped his card down on the table. "Besides," her face split in wide grin, "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"I'll be late. Would you please stamp my card so I can vote?" She picked up his card and appeared to be examining it very closely.

"I'm sorry, your card has been burnt. I can't recognize the date."

Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "You know bloody well that card is valid! You can see the official stamp as well as I can."

"Sir, if you don't calm down I will be forced to remove you." Harry looked at Janice Lovegood and took several deep breaths. He motioned for Ron to join him and turned back to Dolores Umbridge.

"As you can see," he pointed to his card and Ron's, "my card comes sequentially right after his. His is dated August 28^th. It would stand to reason that if I got my card right after his, it should also be dated the twenty-eighth. Would you please stamp my card so I can vote?"

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but this card is not valid." She swept both the cards off the table and into a rubbish bin. "Next." Harry was about to launch into a new tirade when Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"Don't worry," Ron reassured him. "We'll get around her, we always did."

"And just how do you propose we do that?"

"You'll think of something. If you don't, Hermione will."

"Ron, you stand to lose-"

"Look, Harry, we're not giving up, but we're not going to win anything standing here and fighting with her. Remember, my dad works at the Ministry. McGonagall saw everything; she'll help us." Ron screwed up his face so that he would look and sound like Professor Viscol, "Now let's get to potions, time is money Harry." In spite of himself, Harry smiled.

The dungeons were still as cool and damp as ever. Professor Viscol was writing on the board when Harry and Ron came in. "Well boys, nice of you to join us. Hurry along now, time is money and you're costing us all time. I'll see you two after class." There wasn't the usual snickering that accompanied Harry getting in trouble.

They sat down at the table with Hermione and Neville. Neville had asked if he could be readmitted to the Potions class after the announcement of Professor Viscol's appointment. Professor Viscol was a friend of his uncle and a man he had known for a long time. Neville seemed to be doing quite well now and had made some comments about studying to become an apothecary after leaving school. "So what are we working on today?" Harry asked.

"Regenerative potions," Hermione answered. "A potion called Phoenix Fire." Ron had pulled out his and Harry's cauldron and begun a fire underneath it. "It can be fatal if mixed improperly." She turned to Neville.

"This looks summarily unpleasant," Harry commented to Ron as he read over the ingredient list. "Good thing we finished that essay last night." He saw Hermione smile to herself.

"It's going to take a while, too," Ron replied. "It says here that if the mixture isn't allowed to cool and set up for a full moon after the first three steps it becomes poisonous. I hope he doesn't make us try this stuff."

"Don't worry, Ron

"I realize you two slackers don't have anywhere to be, but my next class is a good way from here." Ron slung her bag onto his shoulder and asked Harry to finish cleaning up.

"Sure," Harry replied. "Meet me at the gargoyle in twenty minutes." Hermione was in such a rush to get to class she didn't even question him about it. Ron ran off to catch up with her.

"Got a minute?" Professor Viscol asked as Harry finished cleaning up. Everyone else had already gone. He sat down at the table without waiting for an answer. "Harry, I know you've had a lot of other things on your mind in the last week, but you've got to get it together." He laid the scroll down with Harry's homework on it. "You've missed one class, and been late for the other two. Your class work is a little sloppy, too." He shook his head and sighed. "If N.E.W.T.s were tomorrow, I don't think you'd be up to scratch, and you've got to have that grade if you want to be an Auror. Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll be okay Professor." Harry opened the scroll with last week's make-up assignment on it; it was a failing grade. With a grunt of frustration he shoved it into his bag and left.

The halls were filled with students going to and from classes. They traveled in small knots and spoke in hushed tones, shooting suspicious glances at other students. There was a brief scuffle between a group of young Slytherins and Gryffindors, but it was quickly broken up by a couple of prefects. When the bell rang, the hallway was deserted. As Harry walked, the slapping of his shoes echoed through the empty hall.

He stopped in front of the gargoyle that guarded the staircase up to the Headmistress's office. "Lemon drop," he said in a low voice; nothing. "Sugar quill." Still nothing. Harry listed off every candy he could think of, but nothing worked. Looking around to make sure that no one was watching him, he leaned in close to the gargoyle's head and spoke in Gaelic in a low tone. The gargoyle leapt stepped out of the way.

Harry headed up the stairs; scarcely noting the portraits of old professors and headmasters that lined the walls. As he approached the Headmistress's office he heard the sound of voices. He stopped and listened. "Fawkes isn't looking to good either," Professor McGonagall was saying. "He looks to be in a constant state of molting. Neither Professor Weasley nor Poppy have been able to do anything for him."

"I wouldn't worry;

"You could just ask him," answered a snide voice. "He's skulking out in the hall."

"Thank you, Phineas," Professor McGonagall said. Harry stepped into the doorway before she had a chance to call him out.

"I was not skulking," Harry said to the portrait that Phineas Nigellus had pushed his way into.

"Of course you weren't," he replied. "You were just... eavesdropping."

Harry suppressed the growl in his throat. "What do you need, Mr. Potter?" The Headmistress's voice cracked him like whip as her flat, level gaze pierced him.

"We ran into another problem with Umbridge. Ron and I

"I'm sorry

"That's right, Minerva," Phineas Nigellus said, "keep these disobedient little brats in line. Show them who's boss."

"Phineas," she snapped, "do shut up. Now, was there anything else

"I couldn't help hearing you say that Fawkes isn't well. Is he going to be okay?" Her expression softened. "Could I see him?" She stepped back and invited him in.

This office looked very much like her old office. The shelves were stacked with books in good repair; the odd contraptions that had cluttered them before were mostly gone. The few that were left were arranged neatly on upper shelves that were difficult to get to. A large Hogwarts banner now covered the closet that had held Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve, along with a multitude of other gadgets. Dumbledore's portrait hung on the far side of the room, so that he seemed to watching over the Headmistress's shoulder as she sat down at the desk. Fawkes's perch still stood next to the desk.

Harry crouched down next to the brass stand. There were a few ashes in the base of the pan, and a few stray feathers as well. Fawkes was sleeping with his head nestled under his wing. His feathers drooped and showed signs of neglect. Harry reached out a tentative hand and stroked the bird's back. Fawkes raised his head and looked at Harry. His eyes were dull and a sticky substance congealed in the corners and matted the short feathers there. He cooed softly, though, as Harry stroked his neck and muttered soothing words.

"Professor Dumbledore-" To Harry it seemed odd to be speaking the old Headmaster, especially since he was dead. "Why do you think that Fawkes's health has to do with the Heir?"

"Well, Harry, Fawkes has been a part of this school since the beginning. He was raised from

"You knew him?" To Harry it seemed unfair that all these other people knew his family, but he knew almost nothing of them.

"Yes, and his son, and his son, and his son, and you. Maybe sometime when the Headmistress and I aren't otherwise occupied you can come back and we'll talk about them."

"And when you come back," Professor McGonagall said, "you'll ring the bell like everyone else." Harry agreed and left. He looked at the portraits as he walked. He recognized several of the names, but none of them held any great meaning to him. Sirius's great-great-grandfather's empty portrait frame was at the foot of the stairs. The gargoyle slid sideways to let him out, then promptly took up vigilance at his post as soon as he moved.

"I thought you were going wait for me," Ron said. He was standing across the hall leaning against the wall, his robe open and his hands in his pockets.

"I got impatient. Besides, you wouldn't have wanted to be there anyway. Phineas was making an arse of himself."

"When isn't he?" Ron knew about Phineas from his time at 12 Grimmauld Place. "So, what are we going to do?"

"I'm working on it. McGonagall warned me not to leave the school."

"Maybe you should listen to her," Ron said.

"You're starting to sound dangerously like Hermione."

"Hey, no need to be insulting here. I'm just saying that nothing good has ever come of us leaving the school to go to the Ministry on our own."

"We did that once," Harry replied. Ron raised an eyebrow. Harry admitted that Ron was right. That trip had been

"Maybe you're right. Should we go work on that Transfiguration homework for Sirius?"

Ron's face split into a wide grin. "I've got a box of Fred and George's latest creations. I'm thinking we need to find a way to slip some of these into Umbridge's handbag... for old time's sake." Harry grinned back, then took off running for Gryffindor tower and his invisibility cloak.

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