Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Moments in Love	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 175861 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the story.

Chapter List
- 71
- 72
- 73
Here is the News

Thrilled and relieved to still be alive, before she could stop herself, the pretty blonde muggle girl planted a big wet kiss on the wizard with long red hair and a fang earring. Bill Weasley was pleasantly surprised to find himself the recipient of the exuberant kiss as sleet began to fall again.
Despite having made tentative arrangements for a date with Miriam, Bill hadn’t really expected things to move so quickly, but he supposed the emotional catharsis of the moment had been a bit overwhelming for her and he allowed himself to be taken along for the ride. The vibration in his pocket and the sound of his name being called interrupted Bill in mid-snog.
Miriam watched with great interest as Bill retrieved a mirror from his pocket, and saw an elderly man’s concerned features and clear blue eyes staring back from the mirror instead of Bill’s freckled features.
“Ah, thank goodness!” said the elderly man in the mirror, looking clearly relieved to have reached someone, “I tried Harry, but he didn’t answer. I thought I would try you first before interrupting any of the oth...”
“His mirror broke sir!” Bill replied before Dumbledore could finish his sentence. “But did you see what he and the others did?” he continued excitedly, “That was incredible! I’ve never seen anything quite like it...”
“Bill,” interjected Dumbledore, a hint of urgency in his voice, “it is imperative that Harry and his companions resume the shield spell immediately!”
“Of... of course, Professor Dumbledore... sir!” Bill gulped when it became apparent that it wasn’t over just yet; he looked up and was about to call out to Harry when he saw the glowing teenagers raise their wands at the sky again. “Er... looks like they’re already on it sir!”
“Good! Very good! I’ll be there shortly...”

~o0o~
Harry tried to slow his breathing as his heart continued racing. The billowing smoke and orange flame of the fireball from the last missile to strike the shield dissipated above, and a drop of icy rain stung his forehead, then another, and another, mixed with splodges of wet snow. Harry swallowed nervously when he realised that the Coven’s shield had only barely held off the attack.
“Blimey!” He gasped. “That was bloody close! If there’d been any more missiles...” Harry trailed off and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Hermione and Dora as the sleet grew heavier.
“Sh...should we do it again? Or d’you reckon that’s it?” he asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
Hermione’s furry ears and soggy tail twitched uncertainly as she peered at the older girl. Dora sighed; her own experience with military tactics was limited despite her Auror training and being a few years older than the others, but she’d seen enough muggle war films to at least give her an inkling.
“I dunno if they’ll try again, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Dora muttered. “Even if they don’t do another aerial assault, they’re bound to ‘ave tanks and troops with missile launchers and other ground equipment surrounding Puddleby.”
“Right!” Harry agreed. “Again it is then...”
The eight drenched young witches all nodded at Harry and returned to formation. The Luminous Coven raised their wands at the sky and the sleet halted once more. They held their breaths when moments later Dora was proved right, and more fiery explosions struck the invisible shield closer to the edge of town, coming from all sides. The building seemed to tremble slightly as the thunderous roar of the attack echoed throughout the small city.
“We’ll have to do it again!” barked Harry. “Before this one fails...”
The Coven kept their wands in the air and cast the spell again and again, wondering for how long they’d have to keep this up, and if they could manage to continue to ward off the heavy bombardment. They were momentarily distracted by the sound of apparition cracks, but quickly returned their focus to the Protego Horribilis Charm which they were recasting every few seconds at Harry’s direction.
The deputy mayor of Puddleby and the secretaries jumped and gasped when they heard the cracking sounds and saw more odd looking people arriving out of thin air, but they were otherwise not particularly alarmed given everything else that they had borne witness to so far that evening. The city’s finance manager, however, shrieked with fright and passed out, sprawling face first in a thankfully shallow, slushy puddle.
After a quick glance at the Potters and their friends, stunned by the silvery luminescent glow surrounding them, Filius Flitwick tore his eyes away and focused on the task at hand. He immediately began organising the other wizards and witches who had arrived with him and Dumbledore, thankful that they had managed to quickly assemble nearly twenty of the Order and the French wizards who were highly skilled with shield charms.
“Elphias, Dedalus, and the rest of you... do as the Potters and their friends are doing,” the diminutive Charms professor squeaked. “Backs to one another in a circle, Protego Horribilis on my mark... concentrate your efforts on projecting the shield out to the edges of the town...”
Confident that Flitwick and the other eighteen wizards had things well in hand to fortify the Coven’s own immensely formidable shield spells, Dumbledore strode over to the authoritative woman in business attire huddled nearby with several younger looking women.
The deputy mayor of Puddleby raised her eyebrows as she took in the long silvery hair and beard, the half-moon spectacles, the gaudy wet robes, the slender stick in the man’s hand... She half expected him to pull out a long thin pipe, strike a flint, and begin blowing smoke rings.
Despite her trepidation, she almost laughed as the absurdity of the situation struck her: the city overrun with zombies, the two girls dressed as fairies, the catgirls and catboy, and the two older girls, one with spiky pink hair - all of them waving wands - and now the old man who was one of several who had appeared out of thin air looking for all the world like they had just come from a casting call for the next King Arthur film, or the constantly rumoured production of upcoming Lord of the Rings films.
If it weren’t the middle of January, she would have thought it some elaborate Halloween publicity stunt. But the deputy mayor was too intelligent to believe that even film crews from a large studio could pull off a hoax on this sort of scale. The only thing which made sense, was that her world had just got much larger than she had dreamed possible since she had put aside the fairy tales of her childhood...
“You lot really aren’t MI5, are you?” the deputy mayor of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh said wryly, struggling to keep a straight face. “Do I have the honour of addressing Merlin or Gandalf?”
“Dear me, poor old Merlin is long since departed this mortal coil, and Gandalf is unfortunately still quite fictional - to the best of my knowledge,” chuckled the elderly wizard with twinkling blue eyes. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, and you might be...?”
“Barbara Spencer, deputy mayor of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh, and very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Dumbledore, given the circumstances. And whoever you lot really are - wizards or not - I can’t thank your youngsters enough for saving my town...”
“Well, it would appear that we are not quite out of the woods just yet, Ms Spencer. At least not until the military decides they have wasted enough firepower and cease their bombardment,” sighed Dumbledore. “But yes, they are quite remarkable young people. They are very exceptional, even among wizardkind, and I couldn’t be prouder of them.”
“Are they all yours then?” Barbara couldn’t help asking. “Your grandchildren perhaps?”
“Oh no, I never had children myself,” Dumbledore replied, sounding slightly wistful. “I am merely the headmaster of the school they attend. I operate a school for those born with magical abilities - young wizards and witches - to prepare them to join the larger community of the wizarding world, and also to teach them how to control their powers when they are among those without such abilities, such as yourself. It is all kept quite secret as a general rule of course...”
“Of course!” Barbara nodded seriously, then she glanced at the finance manager who was still lying unconscious in a puddle and rolled her eyes. “Very sensible no doubt. Some people seem to have very little stomach for things which challenge their narrow views of the world.”
“Indeed!” agreed Dumbledore. “Unfortunately, there are those even among wizardkind who also harbour such narrow ideologies.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Barbara Spencer shook her head sadly. “No doubt there are some who think themselves superior to the rest of us lowly mortals.”
“Quite so!” Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose as he gazed admiringly at the sharp-witted muggle woman. “And that brings us to why I have introduced myself to you...”
“You’re going to wipe our memories, aren’t you?” Barbara interrupted, looking even sadder. “I must assume that you have some sort of spell then, to make non-wizards forget things in these sorts of situations!?”
“Well, this sort of situation is highly unusual.” Dumbledore gestured towards the exploding artillery shells in the near distance which were being launched by tanks, missile launchers and cannons. “Normally we do not have to contend with such large hordes of the Undead sweeping through non-magical communities, and the military taking such extreme measures to suppress them with no regard for survivors.
“And given the circumstances surrounding these events, when it comes to ‘wiping your memories,’ I rather think not!” Dumbledore continued pointedly. Then he glanced at the man lying in a puddle. “Though perhaps in his case it might be for the best if we did,” he sighed.
“You will need all your wits about you to piece your community back together when this is over, and Obliviation can be quite befuddling. And I have no doubt that you will also be calling into question the current government’s actions here tonight...”
“Damn right I will be!” the deputy mayor of Puddleby uttered vehemently. “We were working late tonight on a preliminary budget projection for the first quarter, when the mayor’s wife called and told me that the mayor had never made it home and that those bloody zombies were swarming through their neighbourhood.
“That’s when I looked out the window, saw what was happening down below and heard the sirens... I have no idea what happened to the mayor - and I fear the worst. Then I called London, and I was told that troops and helicopters were on their way to evacuate as many as possible and that MI5 were sending their special teams to deal with the zombies... But that is clearly not what the PM had in mind.”
“That is most unfortunate, and not altogether unsurprising to me,” sighed Dumbledore, “...As I was saying, I believe that making you forget all about wizards would put you at a grave disadvantage should you call the Prime Minister to account.
“As things stand, he is in collusion with the current Minister of Magic - and she is one of the sort you aptly described as thinking that certain wizards are better than non-magicals, and especially, superior to wizards born into otherwise non-magical families...”
“Are you joking?” squeaked one of the shocked looking secretaries as Deputy Mayor Spencer gasped, a horrified look on her face.
“Sadly, no!” Dumbledore shook his head. “The attack against Puddleby by Inferi - those to which you refer as either ‘zombies’ or ‘living dead’ - was in fact instigated and engineered by our Minister to put down with extreme prejudice a group of wizards who live among you, some born of non-magicals, and some born of mixed families.
“It is my grave displeasure to inform you that your town was targeted as part of an escalating civil war between a group of wizards who call themselves ‘Pureblood’ - those who come from families of wizards whose magical lineage stretches back hundreds or even thousands of years - and wizards who are born into non-magical and mixed families.
“Currently, the Purebloods - the worst of them in any case, the Supremacists - have assumed complete control of the Wizard Ministry. It is a bit more complicated than that of course - not all who belong to ‘Pureblood’ families are Supremacist, and many so-called ‘Half-bloods’ support the Supremacist Agenda.
“And even the current Prime Minister - completely non-magical though he is - is in league with the Pureblood Supremacists, no doubt in part to profit himself and his party, and to also improve and maintain the profits and privileges enjoyed by certain sectors of the non-magical Elite and the Wealthy. Judging from the non-magical papers which I read, his main constituency appears to be many leaders among the banking and corporate communities...”
“Unbelievable!” gasped the appalled deputy mayor of Puddleby. “The mayor and I never really trusted the PM’s lot - we belong to the other party - but it’s still quite shocking to see how far he’s willing to go. Are... are the Royals involved too then?”
“To the best of my knowledge, no!” Dumbledore replied. “They are as unaware of wizards as are most other non-magical people. As a matter of law established by the global governing body of wizards - an organisation similar to the United Nations - only a single point of contact is legally permissible between the heads of wizarding governments and heads of non-magical governments - preferably those belonging to elected and semi-elected bodies - Prime Ministers, Presidents, Premiers... etc.
“Only in nations with entirely non-elected governments are aristocrats or self-appointed leaders in contact with heads of wizarding governments. Thus, in the UK, only the Prime Minister is allowed to know of the existence of wizards without restriction... though legal exceptions are of course made for non-magical blood relatives of wizards, and those non-magicals who are married to wizards.
“It is part of a law called the International Statute of Secrecy. And given its extreme narrowness of interpretation, it is a situation which I have come to believe is politically disastrous for all concerned,” concluded Dumbledore.
“Yes... yes! I think I quite agree with you Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling more than a bit panicky. “Wha...what can I do? This is horrible! How can I possibly confront the PM over his decision to try and destroy Puddleby if he’s being backed by wizards and it’s all a big conspiracy?”
“For the time-being, it would probably be best for you and your secretaries to maintain the illusion that you know nothing of our world. The PM would most certainly use it against you,” said Dumbledore wisely. “Act as if you believe that MI5 and the military are solely responsible. That will put the onus upon the Prime Minister himself to come up with some sort of explanation to the non-magical media as to why the town largely survived the hordes of ‘Zombies’ and why it also survived his government’s decision to obliterate the town.
“He will not be able to deny that he took such a decision after tonight - no doubt the BBC and Sky TV are already broadcasting live accounts from beyond the military containment lines at this very moment - and they also will no doubt be quite puzzled as to how Puddleby passed through the bombardment unscathed.
“I would be quite surprised if the Opposition in the Parliament did not at least begin an Inquiry into what has happened here, and the Prime Minister’s role if you are careful in how you word your charges...”
“Yes... yes! That sounds a very sensible course of action...” the deputy mayor agreed, nodding.
“I will also be leaving a sizable contingent of wizards to look after you personally,” Dumbledore continued, “and to look after Puddleby, to prevent any attempt to send Ministry Wizards to take control of the town. It will stretch our forces a bit thin in terms of confronting the Ministry in other parts of the UK... but I believe it to be necessary, and our ranks are growing in any case as more wizards join our cause...”
“Ah, thank you! Very good! I cannot thank you enough Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “Will... will I be able to speak with you again?”
“Absolutely!” Dumbledore smiled at Barbara Spencer warmly and handed her one of the Order’s communication mirrors. “This is a bit like your mobile phone. Simply touch it and say my name, and you shall either be able to speak with me, or leave a message. And I shall be able to call you back in much the same way.
“There is no question that we shall be speaking again, as you and your secretaries will likely be called upon to provide testimony to the International Confederation of Wizards - the wizarding ‘UN’ that I previously mentioned... I am doing my utmost to put an end to Supremacist control of the Ministry, and I am currently working with International Authorities to expose...”
At that moment Dumbledore was interrupted by one of the wizards who was helping to maintain the shield against the muggle military weapons. The man who shuffled over looked as ancient as Dumbledore himself, though he was shorter, paunchier, and jowlier. But his robes were just as brightly coloured and just as sparkly as Dumbledore’s.
“Albus, I do believe the muggle military has spent themselves,” he proffered cheerfully.
“Ah, splendid news indeed Elphias!” beamed Dumbledore. “We should be able to finish cleanup operations and depart shortly then.”
“And by the way Albus, your young Mr Potter and his wife and friends, have you noticed their remarkable illumination?” Elphias shook his head in amazement as he peered at the exhausted teens who were finally putting their wands away at Flitwick’s insistence. “I’ve heard of such things in the Orient and in the Western world’s ancient past of course, but I thought them only myths. In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it...”
“Nor I, Elphias!” Dumbledore admitted with an intrigued expression. It crossed the headmaster’s mind that the visibility and intensity of the Coven’s auras was very likely related in some manner to the apparent increase in the power of their spells that they had displayed tonight, but he was very curious as to how it had come about.
“Potter? Did you just say Potter?” The name rang a bell with the deputy mayor of Puddleby. Barbara Spencer frowned pensively, suddenly realising why the boy had looked vaguely familiar; she had been so wrapped up in the immediate situation that it hadn’t occurred to her until now.
“Is... is that Harry Potter then? ...the fifteen year old boy who is Wanted in connection with the terrorist Sirius Black regarding the recent riots and bomb-threats in London?”
“Indeed!” said Dumbledore with a heavy sigh. “The Prime Minister ordered a warrant for the arrests of Sirius Black and Harry Potter at the behest of our Minister Umbridge. The charges against them both are quite false, I can assure you.
“In fact, poor Harry has been the prime target of Pureblood Supremacists since his birth. His parents were assassinated by a terrorist during an attempt on his life when he was only fifteen months of age. Harry was very fortunate to survive the attack, with little more than a scar to show for it.
“And the young woman beside Harry - his wife - being born of non-magical parentage, she has also been a frequent target of those long associated with the terrorist. Said terrorist is now deceased, but his former supporters have thrown their full support behind the current Minister of Magic.”
The young secretaries all gasped and peered at Harry Potter sympathetically, who was none the wiser as he and the young witches with him were now collapsed on the wet, slushy roof, slumped against a low concrete wall surrounding a bank of air-vents and taking a well-deserved rest, not caring at all about the sleet which continued to plummet.
“It was a frame-up all along! I said it right from the start, didn’t I, Veronica?” said one of the secretaries to one of the others who nodded vigorously. “I thought he looked too sweet to be a terrorist.”
“And too right you were!” the one named Veronica responded. “Poor kid!”
“I knew there was something fishy about that whole thing,” snapped Barbara Spencer indignantly, her motherly instincts getting the best of her.
“Wait, did you just say that girl with the bushy hair is his wife?” Veronica gasped, as she processed what Mr Dumbledore had just said. “They’re a bit young for that aren’t they?”
“Oh, young love! It was frightfully romantic!” sighed Elphias wistfully as Dumbledore twinkled at him. “Mr Potter and his wife were both emancipated due to the harrowing circumstances in their lives - targeted as they both have been by the Extremists.
“They relied upon each other heavily for support, fell in love, and eloped not much more than a year ago, last New Year to be precise - according to Xeno Lovegood’s publication in any case - and I’ve always been quite a fan of the Quibbler...”
“Ah, thank you for reminding me Elphias...” began Dumbledore, “Ms Spencer, this is my very dear friend, Elphias Doge, and as he has just reminded me, Mr Lovegood and his reporter Rita Skeeter are somewhere in the vicinity documenting the evening’s events... Would you mind giving a televised interview for a wizarding audience? ...”

~o0o~
When everything seemed to have settled down, and Rita Skeeter had begun doing interviews, Bill Weasley tried to quietly slip away with Miriam; Mr Lovegood and Skeeter had agreed with Dumbledore that interviewing the secretaries wasn’t necessary. Ginny caught Bill’s eye and smirked at him.
Bill frowned and opened his mouth, but Ginny cut him off.
“Don’t worry Bill!” Ginny giggled. “I won’t tell Mum.... yet!”
Bill shook his head and rolled his eyes when Luna and Parvati joined in the giggles, then he turned his attention back to Miriam.
Miriam bit her lip, peering at Bill uncertainly when it appeared that he might be preparing to say goodnight. She looked more than a bit anxious. Finally she seemed to reach some sort of decision.
“Erm... Bill, I... I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me,” Miriam began tentatively, “but... er... I don’t think I wanna be alone tonight - and I don’t have any family in Puddleby. D’you think... erm... would you mind, c...coming home with me? ... We don’t have to... you know... I mean...” she sputtered, turning all red and flustered.
“Oh blimey! I’m sorry, I must seem a right idiot - a real trollop... I’m just a bit scared to be alone right now!” Miriam finally managed to blurt out.
Bill swallowed nervously. He was quite pleased to have made a real connection with someone he liked, despite the dreadful circumstances, and Miriam seemed to be really sweet. But things did seem to be moving a bit too quickly, even for him. As Bill gazed back into Miriam’s earnest eyes, he decided that she really was just frightened to be alone and simply wanted to be with someone she felt safe with.
“Yeah, okay, alright then,” said Bill gently, nodding. “They don’t seem to need me anymore. Dumbledore’s got loads of other wizards to keep an eye on the military while they try to work out what happened. D’you want me to take you home now?”
“Y...yes please! I c...could really use a cuppa tea right now. M...maybe something a little s...stronger even to s...settle my nerves.”
Indeed, even though everything seemed to be quite over, the emotional roller-coaster of an evening had taken its toll, and Miriam was beginning to tremble like a leaf.
“Alright then,” Bill agreed, giving Miriam a smile as he wrapped his arms around her again. “How far away are you? Close enough to walk?”
“Yeah... just th...three blocks that way.” Miriam pointed, her hand shaking. “I have a flat in that building over there... Hopefully it’ll s...still be okay...”
“I’m sure it will be, but if there’s any damage, I can fix it,” offered Bill.
“Y...you can do that?”
“Well, I’m no Harry Potter or Dumbledore, but I think I can manage,” said Bill impishly, giving Miriam a wink as he showed her his wand. “I’m not half-bad with magic myself... In fact, I probably ought to Disillusion us so we don’t have to worry about being stopped by any military patrols on the way back to your place.”
“Wh...what’s that then?” Miriam asked nervously.
“It’s a bit like invisibility - more like a chameleon’s camouflage though, but far more effective...”
“Oh... you mean like th...those alien hunters in the Predator films?”
“Er... pardon?” Bill looked flummoxed.
Miriam grinned. “I’ll th...throw on a video when we get back to my place. You’ll s...see...”

~o0o~
Harry yawned, blinking as he awoke, thinking that coffee might be a good call instead of tea today. He felt absolutely wrecked. He was a bit puzzled by his surroundings at first, then he remembered that he and the Coven had passed out in the parlour; they had returned home to Jennifer’s manor and crashed hard, never even making it to their rooms.
In fact, Harry could still barely move, but that was mostly because Hermione was draped across him on one of the sofas, her bushy tresses tickling his chin.
Luna, Ginny, and Parvati were sprawled across the other sofa; and Jennifer and Daphne were curled up together on one of the settees, as were Fleur and Dora. The luminous auras of the Coven had apparently faded as they slept.
Harry glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. It was nearly seven, and he felt like just going back to sleep, but others had already begun stirring.
“Mmm... ‘Morning Harry,” murmured Hermione with a smile, blearily giving him a kiss. “You look really worn out.”
“Yeah... I’ll say I am!” Harry groaned, stretching his arms out as much as he could without knocking Hermione off him. “I’m bloody knackered! I just want to go back to sleep for a few more hours... Maybe we should just go upstairs to bed for a bit.”
“And miss the news?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry and several memories tumbled into place in his befuddled brain.
“Oh... er, right!” said Harry. “I almost forgot about the Order’s pirate broadcast. It should be starting any minute.”
Hermione shifted a bit so that Harry could grab the Wiz-Vision remote. The screen flickered to life just in time as he fumbled the controller, and he winced as the sound of rousing music struck his eardrums.
“Bloody ‘ell! Not so loud!” Dora moaned as she and Fleur struggled to open their eyes.
“Sorry Dora!” Harry grinned as he dialed the volume back down. “My fingers are a bit stiff...”

~o0o~
They had both been expecting it after they had been informed of the events late last night by the team of Unspeakables monitoring the situation in Puddleby-on-the-Marsh from behind the perimeter the muggle military had set. But it didn’t make the news any easier to swallow.
The Senior Undersecretary had arrived early that morning at the Minister’s house, and they were both sipping their tea feeling a sense of trepidation when the bombastic music heralding the WVN morning news began.
Sure enough, a burst of static swamped the screen before it faded to black and new images appeared - the image of the dark streets of Puddleby inundated with lurching corpses, the sound of screams and crackling spells, and the voice of Rita Skeeter - on-screen herself as she described the events she was witnessing live at the scene.
The scene changed several times as Rita made her way through the small city with various groups of wizards - their faces blurred, excepting Dumbledore’s which was visible to all - saving muggles from the marauding Inferi. The footage was unflinching, showing also the bodies of muggles and wizards who hadn’t escaped the carnage.
The Minister and her deputy watched, mouths agape when they witnessed for the first time the blazing effects of the Secret Weapon as pulsating bursts of blindingly brilliant light swept through the city and the Inferi turned to ash and bone. Then the screen displayed scenes of muggle fighter jets and heavy artillery bombarding the town, unsuccessfully trying to destroy it.
Finally, the scene changed again as Rita conducted an interview with an unblurred local wizard, a young man with dreadlocks who explained how the Inferi had been sent to quell their resistance to the Ministry’s attempts to take the muggleborn the previous day.
Another interview followed with the muggle deputy mayor of Puddleby, who explained how the Prime Minister had sent the military to obliterate the town, instead of rescuing its residents as he’d promised. Rita Skeeter suggested strongly that he must have made a deal to coordinate with the Ministry of Magic at the expense of the non-magical people of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh.
When it was over, and the regularly scheduled programming had resumed in progress, Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley was white; his freckles, splashes of red paint against a blank canvas. He glanced at Minister Umbridge who appeared to be turning a plum shade of purple.
“I... I c...can’t bloody believe it!” Percy sputtered, waving a hand wildly, “He’s openly violating the International Statute of Secrecy... Dumbledore can’t get away with that, can he, Dolores?”
“Unfortunately, it would appear that he can at the moment!” snarled Dolores. “My own friends in the ICW tell me that the Committee for Statutory Violations is nearly entirely in Dumbledore’s corner, including the Chair of the Committee, the Senior German delegate to the ICW, Angelika Machschnell. There is one on that committee who is sympathetic to our cause, but he cannot speak his mind freely without risking his seat.
“This is a complete and utter disaster - Dumbledore knows exactly what he is doing. Now that he’s brought Puddleby’s muggle deputy mayor to the wizarding public’s attention to spread his seditious nonsense, we shan’t be able to touch her without raising more questions in the ICW...
“He’s just daring us to try something - goading us to launch an open attack on Puddleby! But we can’t rise to the bait Percy. ... Dumbledore has no doubt left forces there hoping to entrap us and ensure that the ICW Inquiry goes his way”
“But what are we going to do about Puddleby then?” Percy fumed.
Dorlores’s brows furrowed as the gears in her head whirred busily away. Maybe this wasn’t such an utter disaster after all. Finally Dolores seemed to have reached a conclusion.
“For the moment, Puddleby will have to be written off as a dead loss. But Dumbledore’s scheming gives me an idea. We can turn the tables on him - we shall have to draw him out and entrap him instead!
“But failing that - and we must be prepared for that possible eventuality - at the very least we can force Dumbledore to reveal the Secret Weapon with which he is destroying the Inferi... and he now also appears to have devised a means of generating a powerful shield spell large enough to defend an entire city, which we also need to examine up close.
“And I just know Potter was involved somehow - he was the one to employ the Secret Weapon at Hogwarts according to the accounts of those who witnessed it - I am nearly certain he did so again. If we can get a hold of the Weapon, or a closer look at it, and discover the means by which Dumbledore shielded Puddleby, we will at least be able to employ countermeasures and gain an even footing in future engagements, and possibly capture Potter while we’re at it.
“We can work out a complete plan later though Percy,” Dolores shook her head and pursed her lips, grinding her teeth, “In the meantime, I must be off to Number Ten Downing Street for an appointment - the PM must be having kittens...”
“We need some sort of response to Skeeter too...” Percy suggested loudly. “Ron seems to be coming around finally. Perhaps another direct ‘appeal’ to Potter might have some effect at least in suppressing Dumbledore’s recruiting efforts? ...especially if Ron’s heart seems to be more in it this time?”
“Perhaps!” Dolores looked skeptical. “I agree that a media response is a necessity, and I shall certainly be conferring with the Prime Minister a bit on that score - he is closely acquainted with an exceptionally powerful muggle propagandist who owns media outlets in Australia and Britain who could prove to be quite helpful.
“According to the PM, the man is already familiar with wizards, perhaps through family, and is primed to launch a twenty four hour television news network in the US next month. He’s meeting us this morning and I can run it by him. But to be perfectly honest, I’m not certain that Ronald will have much impact on a second go round.
“Still - perhaps as part of a larger effort - it couldn’t hurt to at least prep him for a short spot. Why don’t you remain here and try working with Ronald while I’m in London today.”

~o0o~
The Coven were once again more than impressed by Skeeter’s masterful skills at turning news into a powerful political statement, and Harry was once again extremely glad that she was on their side now. But he was also dead tired.
“Right then, that was brilliant! But I’m off back to bed for a bit, Hermione. How about you?”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” said Hermione, letting out another yawn.
“I know I’m ready for a bit more sleep,” said Daphne, yawning herself as she glanced at Jennifer, who nodded in agreement. That seemed to be the general consensus among the rest of the Coven as everyone wearily staggered to their feet.
Hermione frowned when she felt a vibration in one of her pockets. Harry groaned as she pulled out her mirror and Dumbledore’s features appeared.
“Good Morning Mrs Potter! Ah... and good morning Harry!”
“Good Morning Professor Dumbledore!” Hermione replied a bit weakly.
“Er... ‘Morning sir!” Harry tried very hard not to sound as exhausted as he knew he looked.
“My apologies to you both...” said Dumbledore, looking more than a bit tired himself. “I shan’t keep you but for a moment - I am sure that we could all do with a bit more sleep. I was just hoping that you and your friends might drop by Hogwarts later this afternoon - perhaps around teatime - for a discussion about... things...”

~o0o~
Ron gulped nervously as he pulled his ear away from the door and flung himself back on the bed next to the tea-tray with his half-eaten breakfast when he heard his brother Percy’s footsteps coming back up the stairs. Ron had managed to overhear bits of the conversation - not everything, but he had heard enough. The Minister had just left for London, and Percy was staying, in the belief that Ron had finally been turned to their side.
Ron’s heart thudded in his ears as he contemplated his plan of action, hoping desperately that his plan, feeble as it was, would still be enough to win his freedom. As Percy’s footsteps drew nearer, Ron held his breath...
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Moments in Love