Harry Potter sat there in stunned silence. He couldn't believe the gall of the man that called himself the Minister. Cornelius Fudge had just told him that perhaps it would be best for all parties involved if a peace treaty was brokered with You-Know-Who.
The Headmaster and Harry had both laughed at first, thinking the Minister to be joking, but when the portly man became red-faced in anger, they realized that he was completely serious. To which Harry laughed again at the sheer absurdity of the whole thing. Dumbledore on the other hand, did not.
"Surely you cannot mean that, Cornelius. Voldemort wants only our full submission to his rule and he will eliminate all those who he deems unfit to live." He was giving the Minister a heavy look.
"Nonsense, Dumbledore, nonsense. He promised to stop all violence as long as you stopped attacking him. It's very simple. All he wants is to be left alone. That's all he wanted last time, as well." Fudge was attempting to put on a brave face, to show that he was sure of what he was saying. On the inside though, he was scared to defy the Dark Lord, and considering he was partly sympathetic to the man's cause, he felt it was his duty to do as asked.
Harry's eyes bugged out at that last statement. "You've SPOKEN TO HIM!? What the hell is the matter with you Fudge? He's feeding you lies. He doesn't want peace! He wants world Domination. Or submission, depending on which side of this war you are on. You can't trust him!" His acid green eyes drilled into Fudges beady black ones, trying to drive home the point. It didn't work apparently.
"So says the attention-seeking pubescent boy, who enjoys being in the spotlight." Fudge had intended this to come out as a cutting insult, but it came out as more of a whining and petulant attempt at name-calling. Harry just shook his head.
"Whatever you want to believe, Fudge, but there is no way in Hell that I'm going to be signing any form of treaty with the man that killed my parents for the sole reason of defending themselves and their friends. You are out of your mind." Harry waved a dismissive hand and looked away from the pile of garbage in a sack of flesh, named Cornelius Fudge.
The Headmaster spoke up, "Is that all Cornelius? If it is, I have a few things to discuss with Harry in private before breakfast," said Dumbledore with a soft smile.
"NO that is not all! YOU!" he said, pointing at Harry, "I demand that you withdraw your lawsuit against the Goblins IMMEDIATELY! AS MINISTER OF MAGIC, I ORDER YOU TO DROP ALL CHARGES!" he screamed, getting in Harry's face. Harry, who was fully displeased at having this man's mouth so close to his olfactory nerves, could see that the Minister was upset at having been denied on his first request. 'Trying a different tactic, eh Fudge? Well, jokes on you, pal. It's not going to get you anywhere.'
Harry stood up, bringing himself to full height where he could look down at Fudge. The fat little sweat machine backed off a step. "Let me tell you something, asshole. One, no one, and I mean no one, orders me to do anything. I live my own life, and if you don't like how I'm living it, piss off and die. Two, I will NOT drop the charges against Gringotts. They allowed my funds to be stolen, and did nothing to stop it. Their security was severely lacking, and they care only about money. They have, for so long, been the bank that everyone uses that they think people have nowhere else to put their money. Well, you fool, they are wrong. There are other Wizarding banks in this country, even if you are too ignorant to know about them."
At this point, the Minister began to realize just how deep of a hole he was in. He had come here today expecting to clear up one issue or the other, and had failed miserably at both. Doing the only thing he truly could do at this point if he had any hope in succeeding, he dropped down on his knees and begged.
"Please, Harry, I'm begging you. Do me this small favor and I'll make sure you get the best training in whatever field you want from all of the best teachers. I'll even make sure you get a job at the Ministry when you graduate." He clasped his hands together in a pose of praying. "Please, Harry, PLEASE!?"
Harry's disdain was not hidden as his face twisted into an ugly scowl. "You pathetic worm. Get off the floor and have some dignity. I'm rich enough to buy my own instructors if I feel the need, and I sure as hell don't want to work at the Ministry the way it is now. Now, whether you are done or not, I am going to the Hospital Wing to visit someone who was hurt in the attack that you so conveniently omitted from the paper." He pushed past Fudge, who fell on his ass from his kneeling position. Turning the knob, he was about to fling the door open in frustration, but realized that this was Dumbledore's office, and the Headmaster hadn't done anything to him. He closed the door behind him, and could here Fudge break down and start sobbing, while Dumbledore just sighed.
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Hermione and Ron were waiting for Ginny at the bottom of the stairs leading to the girl's dormitory, when she came out. Ginny descended with a confused look on her face and said, "Good morning, guys. Was there something you needed?" Ron looked uncomfortable, and glanced at Hermione. The bushy-haired girl, the only known species of beaver to have such a messy bunch of fur, spoke up after a moment.
"We need to talk. Let's go somewhere private." With that, she turned and walked toward the common room entrance. As they reached the doorway, a seventh year Gryffindor cut in front of them and as Hermione prepared to unload a noisy diatribe on him, they heard a 'PPFFFFFFFFFFF-BBRRP". Hermione scrunched her face in disgust as the boy opened the doorway, passed through, and closed it, trapping in the smell. Next thing the three of them knew they were being walloped in the nose with a smell that was not at all friendly. In fact, toxic would be a more appropriate word.
Unfortunately for them, Jonas Willerton was known for his killer farts.
Coughing violently at the smell of rotten eggs, and dead fish, eyes watering, gagging and trying not to puke all over the place, the three of them ran through the door and got out into the hallway away from the smell, where they gulped in copious amounts of air, trying to recover. After a few moments, they were breathing normally again, and Hermione led them to an abandoned room two corridors over from the common room.
Once in the room, Granger performed some privacy spells to make sure eves-droppers (not that there were any) wouldn't be able to hear. She turned to Ginny, and said, "Now, when we found out that Luna Lovegood had been injured in the attack, we were glad. Anyone who sides with Potter deserves what they get." Ron nodded assuredly, and Ginny nodded hesitantly. In her heart she wanted to side with Harry, but it was only through her own selfish desires. "I realize you want to be with him, Ginny, but everyone is just a block in the road, an obstacle in your destiny." Ginny nodded more fiercely this time, and Hermione knew she was getting the girl hooked to the proper mind set.
"We asked around to some of our anti-Potter contacts in Slytherin," Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, and Hermione said, "Hey, this is war, and despite what people say about Rules of War, they don't exist. I'll team up with whoever I must to thwart Harry Potter. Now, as I was saying, I asked around, and they saw you trailing during the attack. Did you attack her?"
Ginny wasn't sure whether it was pride in what she had done, a lack of accusation in Hermione's voice, or a combination of both that caused her to say, "Yeah…yeah, I did. That bitch was trying to steal my Harry away from me, and that's unacceptable," she said, her voice full of a powerful, and perhaps obsessive, determination.
"That's good, Ginny." Ron had decided to speak. "But next time, what you need to do is come to us, and let us help you plan it out. So far, you haven't been accused of anything, so we don't think you were seen by anyone important, but you got lucky. We've got resources now, Ginny, and Harry is a tough opponent. Talk to us first next time." Ginny agreed, seeing that she had gone into that situation unprepared, but coming out very lucky. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, which they all three knew, but they couldn't afford spontaneous anymore.
"Alright, now that you're on board, let me tell you a couple of things we've got planned…"
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Harry wasted no time making his way to the Hospital Wing. He decided that he would just tell Madam Pomfrey, rather than waiting for Dumbledore. If Pomfrey had a problem with it, well, Harry just happened to know a spell that would knock her out.
He pushed open the door, and walked over to Luna's bed. He noticed that Madam Pomfrey was still in her office, so after saying a quick good morning to Luna, and getting no response, he headed for the nurse's office. At her door, he knocked twice and waited. After a moment, he heard the doorknob turn and the solid wood plank of a door moved away from him and into the office. Madam Pomfrey, in the doorway, said, "Ah, Mr. Potter, is everything all right? You're not having problems with your energy level are you? That can sometimes be a lasting problem with magical overexertion."
"No, no, everything is fine. For me at least." She nodded her approval, glad to see that he had recovered well. "What I actually wanted to talk to you about is Luna." The nurse's face looked sullen at this.
"It's so sad really," she said. "The girl has such a long life ahead of her. It's a shame that the rest of those years are going to be in pain." She shook her head, showing regret at the fact that she could do nothing to change this fact.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Her eyes swiveled up to him at this. "You see, I've come across a way to heal her." Pomfrey gasped.
"Heal her? Completely? That's impossible!" She had done more research into this matter than one would think humanly possible, and here was a student telling her that he could fix it? It was understandable that the skeptic in her jumped forward.
"Come now, Mr. Potter, while I recognize your magical ability, I find it HIGHLY unlikely that you can do anything about this." She gave him flat look that indicated that he should give it up. "I know that you have feelings for Ms. Lovegood, but it will do you no good to delude yourself with fantasies of suddenly healing her with your own two hands."
Harry had to keep himself from laughing out loud at what she had just said. While he trusted her, he couldn't exactly tell her that that is exactly what he intended to do. Luckily, he had some late back up.
"Why, Poppy, must you put down the boy's hopes so quickly?" asked the Headmaster as he strode into the room. "He merely wants to try and make the person he cares about better." The twinkle in his eye told her that he knew more than he was saying. She was ready to argue, to fight with him over this, but he winked at her, and she felt the desire to do so drain away. Whether it was a spell of some sort, or his ability to inspire confidence in people, didn't really matter. It worked.
The three of them moved over to Luna's bed, and drew the curtains. Harry asked Madam Pomfrey to turn Luna over, which she did. The girl was wearing pajamas, rather than those stupid gowns, so the blond's ass didn't pop out. He reached down, and moved the pajama top up her back a bit so that he could see her lower back. The focus point of the spell.
It was ugly. While the rest of her body didn't look twisted or awkward in any way, you could see the muscles lumped and knotted under her skin. From that alone, you could tell that her spine would be wickedly crooked. He sighed. This would be difficult.
He sat down where Luna's left hand was now that she was on her back. He placed his left hand on the back of her head, and his right hand on her back at the location of the injury. It was difficult to keep his hand there. The carnage was unpleasant to say the least. Before he started he said, "I know you want to be in here, Madam Pomfrey, but I'm gonna need to ask you to leave."
NOW, she was ready to argue. "I don't think so! You're lucky that I'm even letting you do this. If you think I'm leaving here by yourself, you're out of your mind!" She folded her arms across her chest, trying to look intimidating, but it didn't really matter to Harry.
"With all due respect, this issue isn't up for discussion. You must leave. Now, please." His tone brooked no argument. He was making it know that one way or another, this was how it was going to be. And coming from someone like Harry, it was a bit intimidating. Before it got out of hand, Dumbledore decided to step in.
"Poppy, it really is imperative that you not see this. For the safety and security of not only Harry, but of yourself. Besides, he won't be alone, I'll be here to watch over this." She still looked unsure. "You need to trust me on this one." After a moment, and a final nod, she left the curtained area.
The Headmaster put up privacy spells so that if she attempted to peek back in, she wouldn't see anything. "Are you ready, Harry? I'm not exactly sure what you are going to do, so if you need anything from me, just let me know, alright?" Truth be told, he was a bit worried. The Touch was a magic that was completely alien to him, and so he had no idea what to expect.
Harry nodded. His eyelids dropped. He focused on entering Luna's mind. He needed contact with her, because with her unconscious, she wasn't broadcasting. Even the best Occlumens in the world broadcasts at the most minute level. But those who are unconscious, not just asleep, but knocked out, don't broadcast at all, making it impossible to penetrate their mind without a manual connection.
He could feel the moment he entered her mind. It felt far different than his own mind. It was different than any mind he'd ever come across, as a matter of fact. Lighter. More ethereal. Almost, like it was there, and yet it wasn't. He moved forward a bit. Forward, while not technically correct, was really the only way to describe the direction he was heading. After a few seconds of that movement, he was surprised by an explosion of light. When he could see again, he knew where he was. He was in her mindscape.
It was an open field full of random varieties of trees. Everywhere he looked, there were all sorts of strange and exotic creatures that Harry had never seen before. He had found the treasure trove behind The Quibbler's fantastical stories about weird animals. He could easily spot the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. It was the size of a garden gnome, shaped like an elephant, but instead of a trunk, it had a… well, a crumpled horn pointing down from its mouth. It made no sense, but he was sure that it did to Luna, for whatever reason.
He kept going. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he'd recognize it when he found it.
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Cornelius Fudge sat in his office in a panic. He had two fire-calls to make, both of which were sure to get him in trouble in one way or another. One was likely to cause problems that would cost him his job, while the other was sure to make him shit his pants. Unfortunately for him, both calls had to be made, so it was really a matter of when exactly he wanted to dirty his trousers.
Sighing, he decided to call the goblins first. They had given him the ultimatum of, and I quote, "Get the charges dropped, or we will be at war once again, and your head will be the first to adorn our pikes." Well, Fudge had already made plans to flee the country tonight. He knew that he had one last thing to do for the Dark Lord, but that was easily accomplished when he called.
He sighed. Long ago, when he had first become Minister, Dumbledore had recited a muggle quote to him. He had, to Dumbledore's face, accepted it, but in his heart… well, it had no place in his heart. He had pushed it out of his mind, and only now did it come back to him. It haunted him now. He swore to himself that he had to survive, because he certainly didn't want to die with those words bouncing around in his head, telling him how he had gotten hear.
He grabbed a pinch of floo powder and threw it in, yelling, "Gringott's Bank", and stuck his head in, even as those words echoed in his brain in the voice of Albus Dumbledore.
"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
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Harry had found the problem. And really, he couldn't help but laugh. Not at the fact that it was there, but more at the way it manifested. There in the middle of the field was a giant ball of yarn. Tangled and knotted. Parts of the string were noticeably torn, shredded or broken. And next to it, rubbing its face into the yarn, rolling around in apparent joy was a Nundu.
Now, in real life, someone who came across this scene would laugh at the ball of yarn for half a second, and then, upon noticing the toxin breathing feline beast, be working overtime to retighten their bowels, which had loosened in fear.
Harry had to think about this for a second. And, quite frankly, marvel at it. Despite the malicious nature of the spell, and the life threatening situation it put her in, Luna's mind had still turned it into something relatively harmless to think about. It astounded him. Her kindness and warm-heartedness made him care for her even more.
He approached the Nundu slowly, seeing if it would respond with malicious intent. In the real world, they were known for their ferocious tempers, and the ability to fight off any less than 100 wizards. As he approached, though, the cat seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence. It kept its eyes solely on the ball of yarn. As if that was its whole reason for existence.
Aha.
The Nundu was merely a manifestation, not a defense system. Harry got all the way to the giant ball, and seeing that the feline still took no notice, he turned his attention to the yarn. He took a walk around the ball, carefully avoiding touching the Nundu, just in case that should have some sort of unintended consequences. Getting back to his starting point, he looked for the nearest broken string. Holding it with his right hand, he found the next piece of disconnected string. Concentrating on what he wanted accomplished, he felt the magic flow into his hands, and pulling on each end slowly, elongated them to the point that they were touching. When they came together, the strands that made up the yarn intertwined with each other, and the string became whole.
As soon as it did that, the ball shifted and shrunk slightly. New ends were revealed, and the yarn became a bit looser. Not so tightly woven. On the opposite side of the ball, the Nundu shrunk also, something Harry wouldn't notice until much later.
When the ball of yarn had shifted itself, Harry thought back to the most recurring message in the chapter he had read about healing spell damage.
'In almost all victims, with almost all spells, the magic manifests itself in the form of a puzzle. It will be a different form of puzzle for different types of spells, but when trying to find the magic within a person, it is virtually always obvious. Only in those who have suffered a variety of spell damage or have used magic to enhance themselves, will the task of discovering it be arduous.'
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Headmaster Dumbledore watched in slight awe as Harry's hands occasionally pulsed blue. Windex blue light would wash over and envelope his hands. It would stay for a few seconds, and then disappear. The interval between these occurrences was about a minute. If he looked closely, he could see the mangled bump under Harry's hand shifting slightly after every glow.
But he wasn't looking that closely. Not knowing how long it would take for the young wizard to finish, he pulled up a chair, and waited. It was 8: 24 am now. Breakfast would be starting around 9 am. Hopefully it would be done by then so that people didn't start to worry about a missing Headmaster. Oh well. If it took longer, it took longer. With that, he pulled out a book. It was a fiction book that a friend of his had loaned him. It was from the muggle world and was called Fight Club. Something about a bunch of men fighting each other. And how you couldn't talk about it. Or something like that. Either way, it kept his mind occupied.
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On his knees, a pitiful shadow of what he once was as a man, Cornelius Fudge begged Lord Voldemort for mercy and forgiveness. He didn't want to die, here, in the office that had given and taken everything to and from him. He only needed until tonight to get out. He didn't say that of course, but he was thinking it.
Voldemort, the master Legillimens he was, heard Fudge's every thought. Nothing was hidden from the Dark Lord. And, of course, he could have forcefully taken the information he had come here for, but why waste energy? So he asked.
"Tell me how to get into the Department of Mysteries after the Ministry closes." Okay, so it wasn't really a question.
The Minister, obviously thinking he would be spared, spilled it all. The passwords, the secret entrance, everything he knew. He warned that there were some things that he didn't know due to the sensitive nature of the work that went on in there, but he was sure that what he knew could get the Dark Lord in far enough to accomplish whatever goals he had.
The Dark Lord nodded, not in appreciation or thanks, but in satisfaction. He now had a surefire way to get to the Prophecy that he so longed to hear. He turned away from Fudge, who slumped in relief at escaping unharmed.
'Thank Merlin, he let me live. Now all I have to do is leave a bit early today, and pack and go. Some third world country will be enough with all the money I've made as Minister. I can be the crème-de-la-crème.' Fudge thought. Mistake.
Voldemort heard the broadcast, he stopped and turned to look down at the Minister. "You really think you are going anywhere, Cornelius? Not on my watch. You'll stay right here. CRUCIO!"
The kneeling man hit the ground writhing in wicked agony. Suddenly, he stopped moving. Stopped screaming and twisting. But Voldemort knew he hadn't stopped the spell. He cast it again, and still nothing. His brows drawn in confusion, he nudged Fudge with his foot. The Minister didn't respond. Voldemort reached down and checked the pulse of the Minister, only to find that one didn't exist.
"DAMNIT!" He was pissed off now. It would be nigh impossible to maneuver such a malleable pawn into position in the time it would take for the Ministry to replace Fudge. Not wanting to deal with the disposal of a dead body, and needing to get back to make plans for his infiltration of the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort floo'd away, still not quite sure why the man had died. But he didn't care anymore, and he disappeared in a flash of green flame.
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After what felt like an eternity, Harry had finally put the last strand of yarn back together, and the ball vanished, while the Nundu became a harmless little kitten. It stayed because the subconscious records the history of all spells cast on the body. That baby Nundu was her mind's way of keeping track of what had happened to her.
In the outside world, it had only been about twenty minutes, and Dumbledore was distracted from his story when Harry began to stir. His eyes slowly opened the emerald green peeking from behind his eyelids. He removed his left hand from her head, and his right hand from her back. As he moved his right hand, a smooth and uninjured back was revealed. The Headmaster was astonished.
Harry looked at the Headmaster and spoke. "It will take some time for her to regain full strength in her legs, and she's going to have to work at walking again, but she should be fine otherwise."
The old man nodded in relief, and if he was honest, a bit of astonishment. He dropped the privacy spells and called for Poppy who came rushing in immediately. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Luna's back. If you had asked her a question, even one as simple as "What day is it?" she would have been unable to answer. Her brain had pretty much shut down in shock. For the moment.
Harry, shoulders slumped and dragging his feet, left the curtained area only to move over to the nearest bed and flop down on it, passing out halfway into his fall towards the bed.
The Headmaster looked at Madam Pomfrey and said with a grin, "An amazing boy, isn't he?"
She still couldn't speak.
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The day passed in a relatively ordinary manner for most people. Neville and Parvati had approached the Head Table at breakfast to tell McGonagall that Harry hadn't been seen since yesterday afternoon. Professor Dumbledore, however, had assured them that he was fine, but that their friend was sleeping at the moment, and may in fact be out for the rest of the day.
That only made them feel marginally better, but they trusted him, so they accepted it.
It wasn't until dinner when things got spicy. An unexpected flurry of wings and feathers disrupted their meals, dropping a 'Daily Prophet: Special Evening Edition' in front of everyone with a subscription to the Daily Prophet.
For the second time in a few days, the students were stunned and in disbelief.
Goblin's Declare War on Wizarding World,
Minister Fudge Found Dead in Office
Talk about a double whammy. If you asked any of the students in that Hall, most would probably agree with the following sentiment: 'Shit's about to get crazy.'