Categories > Books > Harry Potter > JEDI POTTER

Chapter 26

by Alorkin 17 reviews

Draco suffers, Dumbledore gets smacked down, Minerva plots, Dobby is caught, Rita Writes, Dumbledore has a job for Snape, Harry draws, Voldy gets a headache, Stokes gets a new job, Carolyn and Arab...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover,Drama - Characters: Dumbledore,Harry,Hermione,Professor McGonagall - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2010-11-23 - Updated: 2010-11-24 - 9968 words - Complete

Please excuse the lateness of this chapter. It’s been giving me a bunch of trouble..

1st Feb: 9 AM, Hogwarts Infirmary:

Minerva entered the glaringly white hospital wing, to find Poppy Pomfrey hovering over a body in a bed. Poppy’s assigned house elf, Florrie, had arrived in her office with a request to attend the hospital wing at her earliest convenience. The Matron turned as the door thumped shut.

“Ah! Minerva!” She called. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yes? You said something about Mister Malfoy being in medical difficulty?” Minerva was barely able to avoid a contemptuous sneer. Draco Malfoy was in his third week of detentions with Filch, and had missed over half of them because ‘he was in medical difficulty’. The misanthropic caretaker had come to her several days before to complain about the boy’s apparent malingering.

“He is.” Poppy affirmed.

Draco could be seen curled up on a bed, moaning in agony. Next to the bed was a large, open box of Honeydukes chocolate bonbons.

“And what’s the matter with our ‘little prince’ this time?” Minerva snarked. She’d long since grown disgusted by the arrogant bigot’s frequent offenses, and even more annoyed at Dumbledore’s continual efforts to void any punishments he was given. Student or not, the blond haired fool was a murderer at least once. According to Harry, he’d tortured, raped and murdered a muggle child to prove himself worthy of wearing that disgusting mark, and that was so far beyond the pale, she wanted to kill the fool herself!

“Minerva, this is serious! He’s been in here with severe diarrhoea nine times since the middle of last month. At first, I thought as you do…that he was feigning illness to avoid his detentions, but this morning, I found him lying on the floor, crying in pain, and barely able to move. According to him, he’s been in terrible cramps for the past ten days! It appears that he’s somehow ingested a large amount of Muggle laxatives. They were in this box, mixed into the chocolates. He’s been eating them for quite some time as I gather. If this was a prank, it was a horribly cruel one! If it had gone on much longer, it could have become a medical emergency!

As embarrassing as it would have been, I really should have sent him to St. Mungo’s for a complete digestive purgative and irrigation long before this!”

“Then why haven’t you done so?” Minerva asked, shocked that her colleague would neglect any student…even one as odious as Draco Malfoy.

“Albus gave specific orders that no student was to be transferred to St. Mungo’s without the headmasters approval. I believe it was intended for Mister Potter, but it covers them all.”

~Bloody stupid old man!~ Minerva swore. ~He is the headmaster, not a healer!~

“Well, seeing as Albus is in London just now, I am acting in his stead. I can authorize the transfer.” She knew she was pushing her luck transferring Draco to the hospital. If the Aurors discovered the Death Eater was there, they would arrest him, pump him full of truth serum and drain every thought he had before shipping him off to Azkaban. She didn’t want that…not just yet. She knew if that happened, Dumbledore would find out and assume she told them, and she wouldn’t put it past the old bastard to invade her thoughts and cover up the mess afterward.

“Thank you, Minerva.”


As soon as Draco had been transferred to St. Mungo’s, Minerva entered her office, sealed her door, and having remembered Harry’s caution, cast drapes and damping fields over the few portraits there. ~I’m getting as bad as Alastor!~

“Dobby!” She called softly.

Dobby appeared immediately. “You has called for Dobby, Professor Kittycat?”

“Yes, Dobby. Would you deliver this message to Harry Potter please? I’m afraid one of our students, Draco Malfoy, has taken ill. It seems someone has managed to feed him an overdose of laxatives. He is in St. Mungo’s for a rather humiliating experience called a digestive irrigation.” Seeing the smug grin on Dobby’s face, she sighed in exasperated remembrance. Dobby looked just like Sirius Black did, after he’d pulled off a successful prank.

Not really having the heart to chastise the elf for tormenting the up and coming terrorist, but wanting to make it understood, that such pranks were frowned on, she added in a wondering tone: “You don’t know who could have done such a thing, do you Dobby?” Minerva cast a gimlet eye on the suddenly nervous elf.

A half-second’s reaction was all she got before the elf schooled his features. It was enough. However, Dobby replied: “Dobby is sure Dobby does not know what you is talking about, Professor Kittycat, but Dobby will pass the message on to Harry Potter.”

“Thank you, Dobby.” Minerva smirked. And with that, the Jedi-elf vanished.

Minerva silently promised herself that she would do her utmost to never hack off a house-elf.


When Dobby arrived at Potter Castle, giggling fit to pass out, Harry asked him what was going on. Between giggles, Dobby told the story. By the time he was done, Harry was howling.

Hermione was horrified that Dobby would pull such a vicious prank; as such overuse of laxatives could cause severe damage to the spoilt aristocrat. However, given what she knew of the elf’s history with the Malfoy’s, she could easily understand his reasons. As much as she wanted to chide Dobby for such a mean prank, it was hard to do so, without giggling.

Draco was an evil bastard through and through. She knew that. Whether born that way or trained up, was immaterial. Hermione detested the arrogant bigot as much as Harry did, but next to Dobby, they merely disliked him!

Harry immediately flooed Amelia and let her know where Draco was. She knew that if she arrested Draco, Dumbledore would cause all kinds of hell. He was on the outs with most of the Wizengamot, and Rita’s hatchet jobs on him hadn’t helped his image any, but he still had supporters that could cause the ministry some problems.

Instead of immediately sending a detail of Aurors to arrest the unprotected Death Eater, she contacted Rita and directed her to St. Mungo’s.

1st Feb, 9 AM, Ministry of Magic:

Albus Dumbledore stepped into the newly created Magical/Mundane Liaison Department, to try to persuade Arthur Weasley to support him…or at least provide him with some gold to tide him over until he could find a way to dissuade the goblins from their set course. As soon as he was seen entering, though, word spread throughout the office. Mortimer Perkins, Arthur’s deputy director, scribbled out a note to the Minister, informing her of the old man’s presence. He tapped the message with his wand, and it folded itself into a dart shaped airplane and flew off. With the dozens of similar memos flying about, Albus missed it.

He made his way into Arthur’s office, noticing that unlike most supervisors’ offices, it was merely a three-sided enclosure that opened to the larger room. Arthur Weasley was very much like Harry Potter in that regard. He understood that sometimes it was necessary to keep secrets, but he kept those times as limited as he could.

Dumbledore knew the open arrangement of the office would prevent him from using any direct methods of control on Weasley. He’d have to resort to ‘less effective means’.

Once he was assured of the man’s attention, he began to cajole his pawn into giving him what he wanted.

Unfortunately Arthur wasn’t having any. None of Albus’ arguments, reasoned, logical or emotional made any difference. Finally he appealed to Arthur’s humanitarian nature.

“Arthur, I am practically destitute. My vaults have been audited by the goblins and there is no telling when they will be finished. I cannot continue to borrow gold from them at their usurious rates, or I would be bankrupt before they returned what is rightfully mine.”

“Albus, I told you three times before, I cannot help.” Arthur was exasperated by the old man’s refusal to accept that help would not be forthcoming. “I am barely making do myself.”

“With the gold that was returned, when your children decided to leave Hogwarts, and your new position, you should easily be able to assist me…as I have assisted you so many times over the past years. You can afford to…”

“Actually, we’ve used the money that was returned to pay for some long overdue repairs to the Burrow. The place was near to collapse! We’ve also added some new, and heavily reinforced wards around the property. With Voldemort and his Death Eaters doing as they please, there is no such thing as ‘too safe’! This way, my family and our friends who live nearby, have a sanctuary, in case the Death Eaters do attack.”

Dumbledore was disappointed. He’d been counting on that gold, but he knew that such wards cost a great deal. He would never have suspected the Weasleys of actually using that gold for smoothing important. He had thought they’d foolishly use it to taking a holiday or the something of the like instead. Unfortunately he had forgotten that the Weasley’s irresponsibility with their finances had been one of first compulsions he’d placed on them.

“Such a shame.” He sighed, in dramatic regret. “That gold could have been turned to a more effective use than warding one property.”

“Such as?” Now Arthur was growing more than annoyed. ~So, you don’t consider my family that important! Well, I do, old man!~

“Helping to finance the order until they can find Harry Potter and return him to my control.”

“Speaking of whom, I would like to hear just why you placed that boy to be raised by animals you knew would abuse him. Have you seen that boys back? I have! Those muggles beat the boy, often to within an inch. They have done horrible thing to him and you…you are responsible for that!”

“Arthur, it was necessary. I regret his suffering, but it is a minor thing. For the greater good, he must be kept under my control…”

Damn the greater good! I do not want to hear about the bloody greater good, Albus Dumbledore!” Arthur shouted, drawing the attention of every ear in the large room. This was a side of him that very rarely showed itself!

Dumbledore recoiled in shock as Arthur berated him…him, of all people! “You justify everything you do as being for the greater good, but nobody else knows what the greater good really is! Is it the greater good a child should be beaten? Tortured? Worked like a house elf? Is it the greater good he should be punished for being what he is? Is it for the greater good that he should be brutalized? Raped?”

YES!” Dumbledore shouted right back. “Harry must grow in privation! He must be hardened to the truth! Despite your obscene fascination with them, the muggles are nothing but animals! They tormented him, not I! They beat him, not I! They are the ones he must blame! The magical world is his only refuge from those beasts! He must see the wizarding world as his own, and when the time comes, he must be willing to lay down his life for us! That - is - his - destiny!

“The destiny you selected for him.” Arthur’s voice was quiet, but Dumbledore heard it anyway.

“Of course. I am, after all, the greatest wizard alive!” Dumbledore smiled condescendingly. Around him the people in the office ground their teeth at his smug words. Not all of them liked Harry Potter, in fact, very few even knew him, but they all appreciated what he’d done for them. They knew that without Harry Potter, very few of them…or their families, would still be alive!

“And my family?” Arthur’s words were calmly spoken but everyone there could hear the tension within. “Are they to be sacrificed to your greater good as well?”

“What do you mean? Until now, you have always stood on the side of the light.”

“On your side, you mean.” Arthur growled. “You placed behavioral compulsions on my family…on me, on Molly, and on my children!”

“How did you learn that?” A shocked Dumbledore demanded.

Had it been a different year, this accusation would not have fazed him one jot, but now he was struggling against so many blows, financial, political, ego and image-wise, he could be excused for reeling at this particular strike.

“Ginny came to me last summer with concerns about a diary.” Arthur lied fluidly. “It seems she wanted to write in it again. Even after we learned what it could do, she wanted to write in it again! So I took that diary…that diary you gave to her, that diary contaminated by dark magic, to a friend of mine, in the Department of Mysteries. As soon as I stepped through the door all sorts of alarms went off. They checked me over thoroughly and lo and behold, they told me I’d had several dozen behavioral compulsions placed on me. Compulsions that all carried your magical signature! When I discovered what you did, I decided to have my entire family checked and guess what? They all had the same sort of compulsions placed on them. All carrying your signature!”

“You should not have done that, Arthur. You should have trusted me.” Dumbledore instantly adopted his disappointed grandfather mask, in hopes of guilting Arthur into doing as he wanted. It fell rather short.

“I don’t trust you!” Arthur growled. “By your clearly dark actions, you have destroyed any trust I used to have for you. You have placed compulsions on my children! By what right did you do that?”

“I am Albus Dumbledore…I lead those who would push back the darkness!” Dumbledore snarled. “And that gives me the right!”

Arthur snarled right back: “I think you’d better reevaluate your idea of ‘light’, because your actions are anything but!”

Dumbledore was horrified at the venom in Arthur’s voice. He realized he’d made a hideous mistake. By using Arthur’s children in his schemes, he’d turned a valuable asset into an implacable enemy. He knew only a small bit of Arthur’s past but now, he thought he understood why the man was so feared by those he’d hunted.

He wasn’t even close.

“Arthur, surely this is just a misunderstanding.” He tried to sooth the enraged redhead. But when his children were at hazard, Arthur Weasley was the most dangerous man on Earth!

“You know, I should have you arrested! I’ve seriously considered doing just that!” He growled, then in a louder tone: “You put my family in an unjustifiable danger! You’ve placed the most loving boy I know, in deadly danger every year of his life, and all so you and Riddle can play ‘Who’s willy is bigger’!”

Quiet snickers from the squad room, told them there were many ears listening.

“Really Arthur” Dumbledore was shocked at the vulgarity, but Arthur wasn’t done yet. “You should know that the only reason you aren’t sitting in the accused’s chair right now, is that Harry Potter…the very same Harry Potter you have abused for so long, has asked me to hold off. You keep pushing though, old man, and promise or no, I will have your scraggly old arse in front of the Wizengamot before you can say Obliviate! Now get out!”

Dumbledore paled at Arthur’s seeming knowledge of his favorite method of eliminating…obstacles.

Amelia Bones, who had received Perkins’ note, and ‘just happened to be walking by’, stepped into the room and bellowed: “What in blazes is going on here? This is supposed to be a government office, not a gymnasium! Oh, Dumbledore…” She snarked. “I might have known. Hello, Arthur.”

“Madam Bones.” Arthur gave a formal half bow, but his wink told Amelia it was all for show. She nodded back with the tiniest of smiles, and turned to her least favorite person, aside from Voldemort himself.

“Albus Dumbledore, as you have no reason to be here, you have been asked before to avoid the ministry. Why have you returned?”

“I was hoping to have a discussion with an old friend. It appears however, that our friendship has suffered from some…errors on my part. I do hope to mend fences as it were. Perhaps, Arthur, I can try to redeem myself…at the Burrow?”

Though mildly spoken, everyone there could hear the threat in his voice. Unfortunately for the manipulative old bastard, Arthur wasn’t having any.

“I wouldn’t recommend that. I’m merely furious with you. Molly wants to turn you into potions ingredients!” He turned to the minister and showed her a folder he’d just picked up. “Here are the files you wanted, Minister.”

Knowing the dismissal for what it was, a furious Dumbledore turned to leave the squad room. Feeling the hostile eyes of nearly everyone there, he carefully kept his hands away from the sleeve where he kept his wand. As good as he was, and there were few better, he didn't think he could take more than sixty combat ready Aurors.

As they leaned their heads together to watch the old man slink out of the room, Amelia noticed a large green beetle fly toward the door as well.

“Rita!” She called. “Hold on a moment!” The insect returned to the desk.

Casting a soundproofing charm over the front of the office, she addressed the beetle. “Rita, I’ve just received word that Draco Malfoy is in St. Mungo’s for a rather embarrassing treatment. Perhaps you might want to do some investigating there?”

The beetle thrummed happily and lifted off again.

“Rita?” Arthur asked. “Skeeter?”

“Mmmhmm. Harry brought it to my attention some time ago that she was an unregistered animagus. Actually, he caught her spying on a private conversation between the two of us, and so, he…what was that phrase? Oh, yes. He made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Now, she works for him. Her primary job is to make Dumbledore as uncomfortable as possible. She has other assignments as well, but that’s her first one.”

“Well that does explain a fair few things.”

Smiling in satisfaction she looked at the folder, then raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Enchanting sexual aids to enhance their performance? Really Arthur! I thought you were happily married!”

Arthur flushed deeply and looked at the folder. It said nothing of the sort. It was merely a statistics list on the laws being removed from active use.

Looking up, he saw a wicked grin. Amelia added: “Although, I can see how there would be a market for that sort of thing.”

She laughed, long and hard, as the head of the Magical/Mundane Liaison Department flumped into a chair in shock, muttering: “Wicked witch! Evil witch!”

Turning serious, she asked: “What damage could he do if he did go to the Burrow?”

That brought Arthur back to the present.

“Never fear. Last August, Harry upgraded the wards around the Burrow, to better-than-Ministry level. He’s also helped me get in touch with his friends at Gringotts. They provided us with a full complement of goblin wards, some of which are quite lethal…but only to Death Eaters. Anybody bearing the dark mark will die. It’s part of the wards system. Bill has also added some rather nasty wards and traps he learned of in Egypt. Should anybody unexpected…or unwelcome, try to get through without permission, they will first find themselves bounced about fifteen miles away, into a large field of blackberries overlain by an antiapperation ward. That was Harry’s idea, by the way. Wicked mind, that one. My sons could learn a thing or two from him. If the intruders attempt to force their way through a second time, they will find themselves in an underground oubliette made of cold iron, with no way out. There they will stay until they are released. If they try again, they will face even more unpleasant obstacles.”

“Do you have the appropriate warnings?”

“Of course. These are posted every twenty feet along the property boundaries. And twenty feet from the edge of the wards.” Arthur held up a muggle sign usually meant to advertise vehicles for sale. They were marked: ‘Death Eaters beware! If you enter, you will die!’ He didn’t bother to mention that the signs were posted twenty feet inside the wardline.

“Well, I must say, they are direct. Very well. I consider those to be sufficient warning to terrorists.”


Defeated…for the time being, Albus Dumbledore stomped through the ministry to the atrium. ~Arthur is opposing me! But when did he turn to the dark? How did I miss something so vital?~ He considered trying another department but realized that…witch, Bones, would have aligned them all with her own way of thinking. ~They’ve turned from my leadership! I must regain control of them all before it’s too late! But how?~

And then, an ugly thought came to mind.

~Potter! It has to be Harry Potter! He’s corrupted them somehow!~

Now Dumbledore knew the boy had long since stopped being his martyr. Given what he’d seen; the boy’s refusal to take his orders, his newfound independence, his actions during that disastrous Wizengamot meeting, his secreting himself, and his kidnap victims away…he was certain of it! Harry Potter had become the new dark lord!

Having him destroy Tom would not be enough. He must see to it, that Potter was destroyed as well. If ever Albus was to create his utopia, Harry Potter must die. It was, after all, for the greater good!

But the arrogant young fool had the Minister and most of the Wizengamot in his pocket. This would not do! No, at all! This foolishness had gone on long enough! It was time and long past time, to find a new Minister. He couldn’t be involved of course, but that was what his pawns were for. ~Perhaps Severus knows of someone suitable…~


2nd Feb: 7 AM, Hogwarts:

Minerva joined Albus on his morning walk though the castle. Breaking their silence, she announced that she’d had Draco transferred to St. Mungo’s for several hours the previous day, but he was back in the castle safe and sound.

Dumbledore was understandably upset. “I gave orders that no student was to be transferred there without my approval!”

“No, your orders said: ‘Headmasters approval’. While you are out of the castle, I am headmaster!”

“Minerva.” He began only to find her interrupting him. He was getting tired of his pawns attempting to think for themselves.

“You would prefer he die?” She asked, sardonically. That brought him up short.

“I beg your pardon?” ~Die?~

“It appears mister Malfoy has been the victim of a rather vicious prank, involving muggle laxatives, which had become a medical urgency that Poppy could not handle. He had to go to St. Mungo’s.”

“The boy carries a dark mark. Were that mark to be seen, the Aurors would have had him in a trice and he would have been interrogated under Veritaserum, and when he was bled dry, he’d have been shipped straight to Azkaban!”

“Albus, I’m not a fool. I have no desire to have a student…not even Draco Malfoy, sent to…that place. I cast a glamour over his arm to prevent the healers from seeing that disgusting brand. I also sent a note with him to explain he is to be treated and returned without delay. I told them they must guard their secrets closely as this kind of humiliation could only bring embarrassment and financial difficulty to the hospital. Lucius is, after all, one o of their largest contributors.”

Seeing the efforts his deputy had made to prevent Malfoy’s identification, Dumbledore sighed, and they continued on toward the Great Hall.


Albus sat in his opulent throne at the head table, and opened the paper. He immediately wished he hadn’t. There on the front page, the headlines screamed:


Dear readers, writes Rita Skeeter, lovely and talented special correspondent to The Daily Prophet. It has come to this intrepid reporter’s attention that there has been a long series of nasty and often vicious pranks being played at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore seems entirely unable, or possibly unwilling, to stop them. In fact, Dumbledore seems to encourage his students to accept this sort of bullying as part and parcel of life in the castle.

Unfortunately this time, the prank has sent a student to St. Mungo’s for an emergency procedure called a complete digestive purgative and irrigation, which, to this reporter’s ear, sounds most humiliating. The victim, one Draco Malfoy, a pureblooded sixth year Prefect in Slytherin house, will recover, but seems to be rather less than anxious to be returning to the school.

As has been his apparent policy of late, Headmaster Dumbledore was not available for comment, and according to rumour, he has forbidden any of his staff to speak to the press or face summary dismissal.

How safe are our children at Hogwarts, when any attempt to help them is met with threats of being sacked?

He got no further, before he crumbed the page in fury. He turned to his deputy and snarled: “Minerva, my office…now!” before storming from the room.

As she arose from her own seat, Minerva McGonagall whispered: “The things I do for you, Harry Potter!”

It was fortunate he’d stopped reading as the next headline would have had him in apoplexy.


Dear readers, Write Rita Skeeter, special correspondent to The Daily prophet. This intrepid recorder of veracity was witness to a confrontation yesterday, between Arthur Weasley, Director of the Ministry’s newly formed Magical/Mundane Liaison Department, and Albus Dumbledore, disgraced former chief of the Wizengamot and former Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. Dumbledore apparently went to Weasley in order to try to get Weasley to support him and his clearly vigilante organization, ‘the order’, until his Gringotts audit is done. (For details of Dumbledore’s audit and the goblin’s reasoning behind it, see: Page 7.)

When refused, due to financial constraints, Dumbledore practically threw a tantrum, proclaiming, amongst other things that he was the greatest wizard alive, the Weasley’s family safety was of less importance than his regaining control over our young hero, Harry Potter, and that to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Potter must die! (Editor’s note: Dumbledore used the Dark lord’s name, but to prevent widespread panic, we of the Prophet, have decided to print the most commonly used pseudonym.)

Weasley replied that he had discovered behavioral compulsions on himself, his wife, and his children…compulsions bearing Dumbledore’s magical signature! Such compulsions are specifically outlawed in ‘The Prohibition Against The Use Of Dark Magicks In Britain’ of 1945, which was authored by Dumbledore himself. This reporter wonders; How many laws has Dumbledore written that exclude him?

Weasley’s assertion that only a dark inclined wizard would use such compulsions led to Dumbledore’s saying that he had the right to use such spells, simply because he was Albus Dumbledore, the (self-proclaimed) ‘leader of the light’…


Once in his circular office, Dumbledore slammed his crumpled newspaper down onto the top of his desk and rounded on McGonagall.

How did she get her information?” Dumbledore bellowed. Minerva was infuriated that he would shout at her like a common street thug.

“How the bloody hell should I know?” She shot right back. “You are the headmaster, not I! The wards are attuned to you, not me!” Suddenly she paled, knowing that in her anger, she’d given too much away. Fortunately, Dumbledore missed the connection entirely.

“The wards!” Dumbledore muttered in shock. “Yes! That’s it exactly!”

He knew he had the opportunity to eliminate a constant irritant and security leak. Namely a beetle named Rita Skeeter! ~Ah well. She wanted to play in the big boy’s park, let us see how she deals with the big boys. Though useful to me in the past, her recent betrayals, have demonstrated that Miss Skeeter has outlived that usefulness. It’s time that particular insect was swatted. Perhaps an anonymous tip to The Prophet. I can even make her an accomplice to the new ‘dark lord’!~

Turning to his deputy he assumed the guise of a humble old man seeking forgiveness. “I’m terribly sorry, Minerva. I seem to have let it slip my mind. I have recently discovered that Rita Skeeter is an unregistered animagus. Her form is that of a large beetle with peculiar markings around the upper carapace. Due to the modification I made to the wards in order to accommodate your employment; I’m afraid she was able to slip in without my knowing. Please forgive my outburst. I was simply…overwrought!”

~Overwrought, my bony arse!~ Minerva seethed inwardly. ~It won’t be too much longer Albus! Not much longer at all.~

“Of course, Headmaster. I understand completely.” She soothed, feeling soiled by both the lie and the man she was lying to. “If I may, since the students are all aware of my ability, perhaps you could reset the wards to reveal the presence of animagi.”

Underneath his concealing beard, Dumbledore nearly panicked. If the wards were reset to reveal animagi, they would also show Severus’ form of a giant vampire bat. No, this would not do at all. The old schemer concocted a believable lie on the spot.

“Minerva, you don’t understand. The wards are not designed to simply reveal animagi, they are designed to incapacitate such…and most unpleasantly.” He nodded his head to the left and raised both eyebrows to indicate just how awful that ‘unpleasantly’ could be.

“Oh, dear!” Minerva feigned shock. She knew the castle had once been a fortress. All castles were, and while she personally disagreed with the use of such intentionally harmful wards she understood why such measures were necessary. It was fortunate she did not know of the wards surrounding Potter Castle, and several homes…including hers! The goblins were nothing if not reliable, and Harry considered her part of his family.

It was equally fortunate that he knew she was an animagus and had the wards there adjusted to take her ‘alter-ego’ into consideration.

“Have no fear, Minerva.” Dumbledore appeased. “The muggles have a wonderful invention called a bug-zapper. I shall simply purchase one, enchant it to operate by magic and then create several dozen, and place them all about the castle. That should eliminate our problems with ‘flying pests’.” Somehow, Albus cared not a whit that the course of action he’d just proposed was proscribed by the Ministry.

“Indeed.” Minerva muttered, thinking about how easily Dumbledore would ignore laws that inconvenienced him. She also noted that he had not asked a single thing as to Malfoy’s condition.

Seemingly satisfied, Dumbledore turned toward his office to write his accusation. Minerva also retreated to her own sanctuary.

Once there, she once again, sealed her door, cast drapes and damping fields over the portraits, and called for Dobby.

Instantly a house-elf appeared, one she only vaguely recognized.

“Professor McGonagall, Dobby is being engaged in training just now, can Winky help?”

“Yes, Winky. Are you bonded to Harry Potter?”

“Oh yes! Winky is most happily bonded to the wonderful Harry Potter! Winky is second senior elf in charge of household, kitchen, laundry and supplies.” Winky grinned widely.

“Very well then, would you mind taking this message to him?” Minerva asked. “It isn’t of immediate concern, but should be addressed before the end of the day.”

“As you wish, Professor.” And with that, Winky vanished.


Winky appeared in Harry’s office, where he was poring over utility reports.

Consumables were being used and replenished on a predictable basis; some potions were running slightly low, mostly those for burns and minor injuries, and contraceptives, but well within expectations. Fortunately, despite Snape’s bigotry, Lavender had scored highly on her potions OWL.

“Hello, Winky.” He greeted the little elf. She blushed in response and chirped. “Good morning, Master Harry Potter!”

“Just Harry, please?” He asked for what seemed the thousandth time, but Winky shook her head firmly. “That would not be proper!” Even with all the changes in House Potter, Winky still insisted in being ‘properly’ formal.

Knowing he would get nowhere with Winky on this topic, he gave it up…for the time being.

“Whatcha got?”

“Professor McGonagall is sending this message. She is saying it is not of immediate importance, but should be tended to by tonight.” She handed over the small roll.

Harry read the note and thanked Winky who blushed again and vanished.

Harry turned to his fire and threw in a pinch of floo powder.


A disheveled Carolyn Chapman appeared after a few minutes. She was dressed in a bathrobe, and from what he could see, she had nothing on underneath.

“This had better be damn good, Harry!” She growled.

“Why Carolyn!” He feigned shock. “Were you, dare I say it…involved with a client?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Wait until you see my bill, funnyboy!” she growled. Now Harry paled. Barristers could be nasty at times, and Carolyn had proved herself worthy of her reputation. Carolyn laughed at his expression. “What’s up? And for your information, not that it’s any of your business, I was about to take a bath, I do have an office to run, and yes, as a matter of fact, I do plan on getting some tonight. Any more of my personal business you’d like to investigate?”

“This coming from the woman who arranged a betrothal for me? I don’t think so!”

Carolyn laughed again.

“Please get into contact with Rita and tell her that Dumbledore is planning to place magically adapted bug zappers all around the castle. I’m not certain if she’d be attracted to them in her beetle form, but it’s best to be prepared.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks. And Ummm…have fun!” Harry waggled his eyebrows again, then dodged as a bar of soap came flying out of the fire.


Dumbledore entered Snape’s office and waited for his spy to show himself. He didn’t have long to wait. Snape’s alarms alerted him the second Albus entered the room.

“Headmaster, What can I do for you?”

“Amelia Bones has become a problem. I want her eliminated.”

“The dark lord has tried that on three separate occasions since July. All three occasions have garnered him dead servants and a living minister. The last attempt led to Lucius Malfoy being crippled, from an overenthusiastic application of Cruciatus.” Snape replied. “Just now, she is untouchable. She is protected night and day.”

“She must be killed. Her interference is ruining everything. She must be eliminated. I will also need a choice for minister that I can control…for the greater good!” Again, Albus positively glowed with religious fervor, ad Snape was more than frightened at having not one, but two insane masters.


“No. Lucius has lost any potential he once had. He claimed Imperius the first time, but his being captured so publicly in the ministry, and then his escaping from Azkaban, makes him worthless. Someone else."

“Your best choice then, would be Nott, Rookwood or Parkinson.”

“Parkinson is wealthy enough…once his accounts are cleared by the goblins, and he can be controlled. After all, I have his daughter here. He’d do anything to protect her.

Severus Snape didn’t bother to tell the old man that Parkinson had only claimed his daughter to avoid the social scandal of his wife having a child by her paramour. Fortunately, even he did not know said paramour was Severus. Of course, since she’d betrayed her husband, Beatrice Parkinson had met with a fatal ‘accident’ shortly after the girl’s birth. She fell from the widow’s walk, and landed on a poisoned dagger.

“See to it. I don’t care how you do it, but find a way!”


Since Dobby was directing the training this day, Harry set his mind to two other projects. He checked on the nanite production, which was going smoothly. He carefully examined a sample under the microscope, made a few minor adjustments, and then retired to his desk to begin drawing. Illustrations and diagrammes went onto the sheet, with careful descriptions as to what, where and why.

Hours later, Hermione entered the office fresh from her after-training shower.

“Hey baby.” She greeted him with a loving kiss. “Wat’cha doing?”

What’cha?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “From You?”

“Mmmhmm.” She purred. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Harry sat back in his chair, and pulled her into his arms. Kissing her soundly, eh whispered: “Or perhaps rubbing you off?”

“Whatever works!”

“You’d better not let your dad hear you. He’d have my guts for garters!”

“Then close the door.”

“Not just yet. I’m still working on these drawings and I don’t want to have to do them over.”

Pouting, Hermione sighed, then stood and stretched in a manner guaranteed to grab Harry’s attention. It worked, but he knew he had to finish this first.

“What’re you drawing?” Hermione lifted a sheet of paper. “Emitters? Repulsorlifts? Proximity sensors? What are these?”

“Plans for training aids. The students aren’t using the force as fully as they should. They can all call upon it, but they only do so in the broadest of terms. I have to get them to use the force instinctively. They have to be able to trust in the force. If they went into battle as they are, their insecurity could get them killed.”

“And these will help?”

“Absolutely. Call it ‘constant vigilance’.” Harry smirked.

While Hermione was trying to decipher Harry’s drawings, he worked on the last page, quickly but neatly writing notes and instructions around the drawings he’d made.

Within a half hour, he finished the last drawing, then standing, gently took the one Hermione was holding from her hand, and rolled them up in a bundle for the next day.

Hermione was still confused, but try as she might, she couldn’t get a thing out of him. Unfortunately, her trying led to a rather clumsy attempt at sexual blackmail. Harry immediately nixed that, by smiling what Hermione called ‘his knicker-wetting smile’ and whispering soft nothings into her ear…in parseltongue, as he guided her through the door to their quarters.

Needless to say, they both earned their rest that night.

In little Hangleton, Voldemort whimpered in pain, as he desperately tried to lick any potion residue from the uncooperative bottle’s dispensing chamber.


On the third, after breakfast, Harry found Stokes tinkering with an ornate clock. It looked to him like the little mechanic had built the thing by hand.

“Hello Stokes.” He announced his presence when the elf had paused in his work. Instantly the little mechanic had turned to him and greeted him happily.

“Hello, Lord Potter. How may Stokes help you today?”

“Stokes, I need about three dozen of these. As soon as you can make them.” He held out the sheaf of diagrammes.

“What do they do?” The mechanic asked.

“They fly around in random patterns and fire stingers at the students.”

“They won’t be liking that.” Stoked mused.


Stokes looked over the drawings carefully, and announced: “Stokes will need some materials.”

“Contact Dobby. He’ll see to it you get whatever you need.”

“That should do. Hmmm. This energy source is beyond Stokes’ capability, and Stokes has never even heard of repulsorlifts before, but Stokes can substitute magic. If Stokes does use magic, Stokes will have to redesign the emitters. Actually, Stokes can redo the whole thing, to work off magic entire. It would save time and effort.”

“That’ll be fine, for the first batch, but I’d like to have non-magical units too. I’ve got around fourty extra powercells, and I can show you how to create the shielding, and the repulsorlifts and emitters are pretty simple, once you understand the theory behind them. We’d have to give you a crash course in that theory as well as in computer programming but since I’m not that far along myself, we can do that together.”

“Fine. How soon do you need the first bunch?”

“A week. Two at the most.”

“They’ll be ready.”

“Thank you.”

Harry left his chief mechanic alone with his new project.


More melee training followed, with the students focusing on ‘circle-inner’ and ‘circle-outer’. They quickly had the idea, and most hated it. They understood it, but they hated it. Essentially they were going to form a circle around the Death Eaters and slaughter them.


On the seventh, Carolyn arrived at the castle. After the appropriate security checks were done, Winky escorted her to Arabella’s flat.

“Hello, Winky.” Arabella greeted the little elf.

“Good afternoon, Mistress Arabella. Winky has brought you a guest.” She gestured to Carolyn who stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “Hello, Mrs. Figg. I’m Carolyn Chapman. I’m Harry’s solicitor. He told me you have a journal that describes how he was treated at the Dursley’s home and you might be willing to let me use it, to bring down the miserable old bastard who placed him there.”

Arabella smiled as viciously as Voldemort ever had.

They discussion lasted several hours; with Arabella describing what she knew of Harry’s treatment and pointing out specific incidents that directly involved the headmaster. Carolyn carefully questioned the old lady, and took detailed notes…just in case Dumbledore managed to schmooze his way off the hook.

Finally, at seven that evening, Arabella asked: “Is there anything we can do about this? He’s been treating people like chess pieces for so very long. My friends all think I’m dead and I don’t remember my own grandchildren!” Her last, was nearly a wail.

“Arabella, I know you’re upset, but this will work out. Harry has set things into place that, when they’re realized, will see the end of both dark lords!”

“Both?” Arabella nearly fainted. “Albus?”

“Mmmhmm.” Carolyn replied. “From what we’ve been able to dig up, he’s been planning this for longer than both of us have been alive!”


“Well, you said it best. The man is a chessmaster. We are all his pawns. Harry discovered this and refused to be his pawn any longer. Instead, he’s training his students to eliminate both dark lords. He’s certain Voldemort…” She rolled her eyes at Arabella’s involuntary shudder of fear. “…doesn’t know about the weapons and techniques he’s using, and he knows that Dumbledore has only seen him in action the once.”

“But how is he going to deal with both?”

“I don’t know. I have my suspicions, but I don’t know. Harry has kept this even closer to the vest than Dumbledore would. I’ve met all his students though, and I can tell you they are all well selected for this. Each of their families has lost people to that monster…those monsters I should say, and they all want it to stop…now.”

“Harry has invited me to speak to the people in the castle, and if I pleased, to watch the instruction. Should I?”

“Speak to the people…absolutely. You’re doing yourself no good, hiding yourself away like this. Your kneazles have already made themselves at home here. It would be good for you to meet the families that accepted Harry’s sanctuary. You might also want to mind the children from time to time…”


“Oh, yes. Over a dozen. From one year old to ten.”

10th Feb: 8:30 AM:

Arabella watched one of the training sessions from the mezzanine, and decided that such heavy exercise would not be conducive to her longevity.

Standing by the stone rail, a lovely woman of about fourty was watching the students below practicing with their lightsabers. As soon as they had picked up that day’s forms, they’d backed up and Harry had created a dueling platform so all could watch. The woman introduced herself as Judith Granger.

When she met Judith, she thought the two of them could be friends. She invited the younger woman to her flat for tea. Their conversation started out, light, with their children being the centers. Arabella wasn’t able to tell much of her own, as Dumbledore had removed that knowledge from her mind. All she had was Harry’s words.

Unfortunately, when she told Judith of Harry’s years of torment at the hands of the Dursleys, and her own complicity in that torment, Dr. Granger’s eyes went cold.

“I don’t know how you can look at yourself!” She snarled. “You helped that evil old madman/? Do you /know what he’s /done?/”

“I didn’t know what he was doing!” Arabella tried to defend herself. “He merely asked me to keep an eye on the boy!”

“Why didn’t you say something? You had to have seen the abuse!” Judith wanted to tie this one to her chair, and perform a multiple a root canal!

“I did say something.” Arabella sighed. “Many times.” She knew how this woman, who looked like an older version of Harry’s betrothed, would feel. Seeing little Harry so abused, had always made her weep.

“Whenever I saw a bruise that Petunia couldn’t explain away, every time I saw a broken arm or leg, I called Dumbledore. But he always told me it couldn’t be as bad as all that and ignored me. On the occasions I persisted…well, I recently discovered there are some gaps in my memory. I have a journal, in which I wrote down the specifics of Harry’s treatment. I never told the headmaster about it, and I suppose he never considered I’d written it, but it’s still intact. The problem is, I have no recollection of writing some of those entries.

I even think I’ve called the muggle authorities when it got too bad. But I can’t recall having done so.

Harry told me he believes I’ve been obliviated at least a hundred times!” She cried. “My friends all think I’m dead! Harry told me I have a grandson…I have grandchildren I don’t know! Dumbledore did that! He took their memories from me!”

Harry had just finished his instruction when he ‘felt’ the argument. Understanding the two women involved, he asked Mackenzie and Tonks to supervise the practice, then left the training room and headed directly to Arabella’s flat. Sure enough he found the two weeping women in a shouting match. Arabella’s words rang through the room.

Dumbledore did that! He took their memories from me!

“And that’s exactly how he works, Judith.” He spoke softly, but Judith jumped anyway.

“Harry!” She pressed her hand to her chest. “You gave me a start!”

“Judith, Arabella is as much a pawn as most of the wizarding world. Dumbledore lies, deceives, manipulates and Obliviates to get what he wants. He has no concern for any of his pawns, as long as his plans go the way he wants them to. Arabella is no different than say…me, or Hermione. I have to say he’s done even more damage to her than to me. With me, the damage is mostly physical…”

“And emotional and mental, too Harry.” Hermione corrected, coming up behind her beloved and wrapping her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, for a moment before disengaging and greeting her mother with a similar hug.

“Yes, emotional and mental, too.” Harry conceded. “But in her case, he’s robbed her of her memories, and that is unforgivable! Memories are what make us so uniquely and undeniably us, and he’s taken that away from her without a single thought as to what it would do to her!

Now, Carolyn knows some experts in the mind arts, and sometime next week, one or more will be coming here to assess, and possibly even reverse some of the damage he’s done.”

Arabella looked up with hopeful eyes.

“Do you really think they can?”

“They are the best to be found. If any one can, they can.”

“Thank you, dear.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Harry and Hermione returned to the training room and Judith apologized, blushing all the while for jumping to conclusions.

And with an argument bout an abused little boy, a friendship was forged.


10th Feb: 5:30 PM:]

That evening, Harry entered the family wing. Knocking at the McMichael’s door, he wasn’t surprised to find Kyle swinging the panel open. “Hi, Harry!” the little boy chirped.

“I thought your parents told you not to open the door to strangers, Kyle.”

“But you isn’t a st’anger. You is a Jedi!”

“Did you know that before you opened the door?”


“And if I hadn’t been a Jedi? What if I was Darth Vader?”


“Kyle, this is why we have rules. Rules are meant to keep people safe from things that can harm them. When your mother tells you to not do something, it isn’t because she wants to make you sad, it’s because she loves you so very much, and would cry if anything happened to you.”

Kyle caught the serious tone in Harry’s voice.

“I sowwy!”

“Let’s not do it again. You wait until your mother opens the door from here on in. OK?


Having heard the discussion, Doreen chose that minute to round the corner and invite Harry in.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, they all adjourned to the lounge where Harry folded himself into a lotus and called the little blue foam ball to him.

Sitting before him, Kyle asked: “C’n I play wif your ly-saber?”

“Kyle, you should know that a lightsaber is not a toy. When you’ve learned to control your mind, you can learn to use a lightsaber.”

“Awwwwwwww!” Kyle whinged, with pleading kitty-eyes.” Harry laughed.

“That’s pretty good, Kyle. Another couple weeks, and you’ll be ‘meowing’ too!”


“Enough of that. You have to learn the basics before you get to the advanced stuff. Now, I want to see how well you’ve progressed. Lift the ball for me.”

Kyle slumped back against the settee, and with his lower lip outthrust, defiantly crossed his arms.

Harry had seen enough of this kind of behavior from Dudley that he knew how to get around it.

“Well, I suppose I can always go down the hall to see Sarah. I’m sure she’s willing to follow instructions.” Harry stood to go.

Kyle’s eyes popped open in panic. “Noooo!” He wailed. “Please don’ go!”

“Are you going to try this again? I can’t have Jedi who aren’t willing to work hard.”

“I sowwy!”

“OK…this time, but let’s not do that again. Now, let’s see how high you can make the ball float.”

Doreen was rather surprised. Harry had handled Kyle like he’d been doing it his entire life. Even now, at four, he still had his ways of getting her to allow things…and she was his mother!


Kyle had done well. He’d held the ball in the air for nearly ten seconds before losing concentration. Harry praised him for doing so well, and then set a challenge for the next week. He wanted to see if Kyle could hold the ball aloft for fifteen seconds. When the little boy didn’t seem to know how long that was, he called Dobby and asked for a potions timer. Foreseeing Harry’s next destination, Dobby brought two.

Harry showed the child how to read and set the instrument. He cautioned Kyle not to try this too often or he’d wear himself out, before ruffling his hair and standing to speak with Doreen.

“How’s he eating?” He asked.

“Like a horse.”

“Good. That eliminates one area of potential difficulty. Until he gets used to them, his exercises are going to take a great deal of his energy, so he’s going to need food and water readily available. Best to keep a bowl of fruit or the like, on the table. Bananas are exceptional, apples are good too. Since he can’t reach the tap, I’ll have an ever-cold pitcher delivered so he can have fresh water whenever he wants. Please ensure he has plenty of exercise as well. It doesn’t have to be structured. Play is fine, but I’d like them both to study Tai Chi with Judith, for fifteen minutes, to a half hour every day. That’s open to everyone, by the way. If you want to go swimming, the pool is also open. As you know, we have several other families here and there are a few parents who can be lifeguards. There are also the house elves. I have several who can help mind the children and a lady named Arabella who was my minder when the Dursleys went anywhere. She’s very good with children and has several kneazles…that’s a magical breed of cat, which are also very good with children.”

“Thank you. He can be a right handful.”

“I can imagine. Is he reading yet?”

“Actually, he is. Simple things like Seuss and Eastman, but he is doing it on his own.”

“Outstanding! Keep him on it and see how he does with numbers.”

“Alright. Any reason?”

“For now, just information. I’m going to need to know how he will take to the advanced studies, and the best way, is to see how he deals with the basic stuff.”

“I understand.”

“Then I shall bid you good day.”

Waving at Kyle, Harry left the McMichaels alone.


Sarah Dobbs proved to be slightly easier to handle, in that she didn’t throw a defiant sulk, but she was as full of questions as Hermione used to be, and Harry knew she’d have to work hard to quiet her mind. He made a note to ask Hermione to help the little girl there.

When he got her to concentrate, she also held the ball in the air, and like Kyle, Harry gave her the timer and instructions for their next meeting. It turned out that she and Rachael had been playing with the little foam ball, since he’d seen them last, nudging it back and forth with their untrained force abilities. Harry smiled and assigned them both the same exercises and recommended Kyle join them as often as possible. He felt that together, they could encourage each other…and it would be more fun for the kids. He also gave Rachael the same suggestions he’d given to Doreen. Sarah was also reading by herself, usually in her mother’s, or father’s arms, and she seemed to have a solid grasp on basic numbers already.

As before, Harry bade them good by and departed.


Feb 14th:

At breakfast, on the fourteenth, Hermione leaned over and whispered something into Harry’s ear.

“Do we have to?” Harry asked, nearly whinging.

“Oh stop it, Harry!” Hermione teased. “Valentines day is a long held tradition. One bad poem is not enough…”

“And a horrible date! Let’s not forget that…that place.” Even a year later, Harry couldn’t bring himself to speak of Madam Puddifoot’s little teashop without shuddering.

“…and a horrible date..." She temporized. "...but it’s still no reason to deny your friends the fun of this holiday! ‘Sides, today’s a light day. Saber practice and meditation. We can still do our training.”

Harry sighed in exasperation. “OK, but no dwarves, no poems and no bloody confetti!”

“OK, Harry!” Hermione giggled. She stood and addressed the crowd.

“Our benevolent dictator here…” She gestured to an affronted Harry. “Has gracefully allowed us to hold a Valentines Day celebration tonight, provided there are no dwarves chasing people down, no awful poems…yes Ginny that means you, and no cupid shaped…”

“None!” Harry growled.

“All right. No confetti. It seems that Harry has developed a fear of confetti!”

Harry glared and the students laughed.

Standing, he added: “Seeing as I’m being forced into this, we might as well make the combined birthday party tonight as well. Is that OK with everybody?”

A resounding affirmative sounded throughout the room.

“OK. Meditation after breakfast, and then saber practice.” He leaned over to give Hermione a gentle kiss and muttered: “I’m gonna get you for this!”

As soon as Dobby assured her that Harry was in his office, Hermione asked: “Do you think the elves here would mind wearing fake wings and bringing Valentines cards to the students?”

“But Harry Potter has said…”

“He said dwarves. Elves aren’t dwarves, are they?”

“No Mistress Hermyninny…” Dobby grinned a conspiratorial grin. “They is most certainly not!”

“So, do you think they’d help?”

“Dobby is sure of it!”

Sporting an evil grin, Dobby popped away only to return a few minutes later. “They is sixteen elves who is not too busy. They is can play cupids today.”

Harry got a shock that evening when he found the Dining hall decorated in pink and lavender. If that wasn’t bad enough, at dinner, several house-elves floated up to him with feathery wings on their backs, to present him with Valentine’s cards.

“Hermione!” He growled.

“They’re not dwarves!” She replied…the very image of innocence.

Nevertheless, the combined birthday/Valentines’ day celebration was enjoyed by all.

The birthday celebrants, Emma Dobbs, Romilda Vane, Mandy Brocklehurst, Adrian Pucey and Seamus Finnegan, didn’t mind having their day co-opted by their friends. Since Emma was one of the celebrants, Sarah and her parents were there as well, and where Sarah went, Kyle was never far behind.

Though he tried to be a curmudgeon, even Harry had a blast.


A/N: Blackberries: Don’t underestimate them. They have been called ‘the US Marines of the plant world’ because they are armed to the teeth and they never give up! Since they grow in large clumps, anybody who ‘drops in on them’ would be in for a painful shock. The vines have more thorns per inch than roses and those thorns are mildly toxic. If nothing else, they are exceptionally difficult to get through.

Cold Iron, is an archaic term for cast iron. It’s supposed to be able to neutralize magic.

Other than Harry, the Minister and a few of her staff, the wizarding populace is as-yet unaware of Azkaban being abandoned.

Many of the books attributed to Dr Seuss, were actually written by his understudy, P. D. Eastman. (Go Dog, Go! Are You My Mother? Etc.)
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