21 Caster’s Chronicle: II

Albus Dumbledore looked upon the delivery owls in anticipation. Everyone in the Great Hall was in a similar state. Young Harry wasn't one to willingly step into the spotlight. Yet, he had gone and advertised his new acquisition so thoroughly. The fact that Harry Potter was the owner of the newspaper enticed a lot of people. Even if it was a mouthpiece for his own opinions, the people of Britain were willing to read it because that was how much clout he held. The Prophet had made up the whole agenda of him being the Chosen One after the incident at the ministry, and that had pushed his popularity to newer heights.

If he were still in his formative years, Albus would have worried about the fame twisting his personality. At present, he knew that it was not so. He had taken a backseat and watched as the Prophet had libeled him and young Harry the previous year. He was used to such slander. To him, the opinion of small-minded people didn't matter, and he knew that the situation would resolve itself when Tom inevitably revealed himself. Albus was proved right once more, and things had gone back to normal as far as public opinion was concerned.

Apparently, Harry was not in agreement. The lad had decided to strike back and establish his own voice. It was a brilliant idea, capitalized at the right moment. Only time would tell if it would be sustainable.

The excited chatter rose in volume as the owls descended on their recipients and deposited the newspapers. In a scene that would be found in every British household that morning, everyone ignored the Daily Prophet and picked up the first issue of Caster's Chronicle.

"Oh dear," said Albus as he looked at the photo of a young Tom, placed beside his new, inhuman visage.

A deathly silence took over everyone as they read the headline and the content below it. Soon enough, everyone began to flip to page four, to read the rest of the article.

Albus did not rush like the others. He was positive that he would be aware of whatever was there in the continuation of that article. So, he patiently diverted his attention towards the other articles on the front page.

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A Recipe for Disaster

by Elizabeth Brant

Over the past month alone, the Ministry of Magic has been inundated with complaints regarding the response times of the Aurors. Upon further inspection, it can be inferred that one of the prime reasons for this issue is the number of employed personnel.

"We just don't have the numbers. Due to budget cuts during peacetime and the lessening number of applicants, we are understaffed," says Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The department has been overrun with handling various issues ever since Voldemort was confirmed to be alive. As per the staff, the number of recruits have been dwindling for the past decade.

Further research into the lessening amount of recruits paints an alarming picture about the state of education in the country.

>> Cont'd on page 5

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It seemed like the paper was not a one sided discourse after all. They had focused on all fronts of the war apparently. He hummed in appreciation, even though a part of him was annoyed at the apparent criticism on the standards of education.

He would be the first person to admit that education in Hogwarts was not the same as compared to the time he himself was a student. It was incomparable to the time Tom was a student as well. The reasons for decline were not so cut and dried, and Albus would do his best to defend his institution. The Ministry had become stringent on banning several fields of magic, post the various wars, and he was not in disagreement in some cases.

After the rise of Tom, he himself had made changes to the library to ensure that students didn't come across tomes that would make them as dangerous as Tom.

Yes, he would admit that he could have done a better job, but there was just so much work to do, and he could only work with what he had. Severus was important to the war and he needed him on his side at all costs, so he allowed the young man some amount of liberty. It was not as if Potions Masters were queuing up for a teaching profession. They were all busy earning a lucrative living, either through research, or through contracts with the Ministry and St. Mungo's. Plus, Severus was immensely talented in his craft. If only his attitude had improved over the years, he would have rivaled Horace in the number of Potions Masters he churned. Alas, some sacrifices had to be made.

Not to mention the number of obstacles the board of governors created on a regular basis. This was why one should never give jobs in higher positions to miscreants like Lucius Malfoy.

As for the DADA position, initially he had fair amount of luck getting new professors after each disaster. But it had been almost thirty years, and the number of willing participants in that tourney was dwindling. For one, qualified members were dwindling because the curse itself damaged the level of education, creating a vicious loop. And for another, most qualified members were unwilling to take up the position due to fear.

He had tried all he could. He had thrown all his years of magical learning into the extermination of the curse. There was some soul bound component in the curse, and he could deduce nothing further from it. It was maddening and he had drowned a lot of time over it. There was a breakthrough when he had deduced that Tom had made horcruxes. He believed that the curse was anchored to one of those vile things.

It was most likely that Tom had secreted one into the castle when he came all those years ago, to ask him for a job. Unfortunately, he could not find one in the castle. Slytherin's secret chamber, and the house common room were his prime targets and he had scoured those two places religiously. He would find it soon enough, he owed that much to Harry. He had to lessen the lad's load as much as possible before he went on his next great adventure.

Albus moved on towards the last article on the front page. He could hear the students gasping and whispering frantically, presumably shocked by Tom's history. He just chuckled and continued reading.

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The Elusive Vigilantes

by Edward Brock

Recent weeks have seen a marked increase in violent conflicts between Death Eaters and an unnamed group. These events have resulted in several Death Eaters losing their lives. On the other hand, neither hide nor hair has been found where the vigilantes are concerned.

The only people who walk out alive from these gruesome battles are often the targets of the Death Eaters and the vigilantes themselves. What is peculiar is that, the civilian bystanders do not recall any specifics about the vigilantes. They are not sure how many people saved them, or how they looked. All they recall is being attacked by Death Eaters, and then being saved.

"It is not the Memory Charm, neither is it the False Memory Spell. This is something entirely new, their memories are tampered with in such a way that we are not able to reverse it," states Obliviator Arnold Peasegood.

>> Cont'd on page 5

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The thought of the vigilantes concerned Albus a lot. They were protecting people, yes. But their actions were too brutal for his liking. What irked him more was that they had previously marked the Death Eater bodies with the motto that he and Gellert came up with, during his misguided folly. A motto that Gellert twisted beyond reason and justified so many atrocities with.

He wanted to find out who these people were and what their motives were. As things were going on, the conflict would escalate on both sides and it would inevitably spill over. The Order was in disarray and he was tired of micromanaging all these tedious tasks. This was not his fight anymore, he would be dead by the end of the year. Either due to his dwindling magic, or by Severus' hands, whichever came first.

The only thing that Albus wanted to focus on was leading Harry to victory. From what he heard from his colleagues, the lad had been excelling ever since the year started. He was casting nonverbally with ease and was proficient with the course material. Thank god for small mercies, that the soul shard inside him was gone. Truly, anything touched by Tom went to ruins. Bereft of Tom's insidious magic, young Harry was flourishing, and Albus was confident that if given time, the lad would triumph.

He moved on to the main article on Tom and was quite impressed that the reporter had managed to unearth the dead trail of his lineage. It did put a dent in his plans though. If more people went around snooping around Tom's old haunts, the more the chances were of someone else coming across the horcruxes. That would be disastrous as it might cause the things themselves to be lost. He had to speed up his search for the elusive cave which Tom visited in his childhood.

During the first war, he had contemplated revealing Tom's heritage as a means of diminishing his pureblood support. But he didn't, because so many of his Death Eaters came from families that went to school together with Tom. Those boys knew who he was. In fact, Albus had even caught them calling him Voldemort in secret. Alas, he thought they were just misguided in their youth, and were playing around with fabricated names. Oh how wrong he was. The same boys had grown up. Without any exception, they pushed themselves and their sons towards Tom's organization the moment he came back from his sabbatical and started terrorizing the country.

Initially, he had thought of showing Harry the details about Tom's past. Yet, it seemed like the lad was made aware due to his employees at the Chronicle. It made his work easier though. He would just cover anything that was missed, and then move on to proper training. The thought made Albus giddy. It had been ages since he had truly imparted his knowledge to someone. He enjoyed being a teacher more than a Headmaster. All these roles he was saddled with had been killing his spirit over the years. So many decisions, so many mistakes. In the twilight of his life, he would teach someone once more. That thought kept him going.

Albus was brought out of his musings by a commotion near the Gryffindor table. Minerva jolted upright and immediately began walking, and Severus followed suit in a hurry.

"Children," sighed Albus and slowly got up.

##################

Draco Malfoy could not believe what he was reading. He knew that Potter was accustomed to pulling outrageous stunts, but this took the cake. He glanced at Professor Snape and saw that the man had crumpled the paper in fury. Though not the same level of anger, he too was pissed off at Potter and his lackeys.

"What's got him so mad?" he heard Davis whisper to Greengrass.

"This Elizabeth Brant basically lambasted Professor Snape over the abysmal number of NEWTs in potions. Mainly because a majority of that those that managed the grade were members of our house and didn't even want to become Aurors," said Greengrass.

"Out of all the articles in this rag, that is the one you focused on?" muttered Pansy. Draco couldn't help but agree. There was a whole spiel about the Dark Lord's origins, coupled with Potter and Granger taking potshots at him. Yet, it somehow made sense that Professor Snape would read this article instead and get pissed. Greengrass was an oddity, so he had no expectations on how she would behave. She had always been distant from the rest of the house, especially so since the war started again. But to the extent of focusing on this article? He could never understand some people.

"I bet our fathers had to suffer under a crucio because of this," muttered Nott in his ear.

That thought infuriated Draco. Sure, he hadn't written to his parents since term started. But that was due to him wanting to prove himself. He wanted no help from anyone to carry out his mission. Here they were, trying to survive and fight for their just cause, and Potter was making it worse for everyone in his arrogance. It was not as if this would change anything, it would only make it worse for anyone who sided with Potter.

He got up at once and started walking towards the Gryffindor table. As a loyal servant of his lord, he was honor bound to confront the half-blood trash about this nonsense.

The moment he got up, everyone around him had become silent. The silence spread throughout the hall as he moved towards his target. He could see Crabbe and Goyle scrambling clumsily and then following him.

"Have you taken leave of your senses Potter?" he drawled, "You would need to have some to lose in the first place," he followed through. Rather clever, if he could say so himself.

Potter in turn sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance. Draco scowled at the reaction. Usually, Potter would get riled up and try to outsmart him with his futile attempts. Now though, it seemed like Potter was tired. As if he had finally given up trying to get one up over Draco. But the article suggested otherwise, he was still mouthing off after all. It could only mean that Potter was looking down upon him. Like he wasn't a worthy opponent, and that thought riled him up.

He recalled how a few days ago, Potter had insinuated that they were not even in the same league. When he succeeded in his mission, he would show them. He would show them all. He grit his teeth, but before Potter could respond, someone else did.

"Just go away Malfoy. We don't have time for you," said the Longbottom squib of all people. The piece of shit squib whom Draco had the pleasure of tormenting all these years. It seemed like the growth spurt had come with a new set of testicles.

"What did you say Longbottom?" he barked in anger.

"Did I stutter? I asked you to get lost," the trash said. Draco almost reached for his wand, but stopped at the last moment. If he attacked him now, the entire Gryffindor table would cast at him. So, he went back to doing the same thing he always did.

"I still can't hear you Longbottom. Like your magic, your voice too is non-existent. Were you trying to sound brave? Have you forgotten how you used to snivel under my feet?"

Longbottom rose up at once and stood in front of Draco, staring him down. This close up, Draco couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. Compared to Longbottom, he was but a twig now. The brute had become big, there was no questioning that. But of course, he would need to resort to cheap tactics like this because he couldn't catch up to proper wizards in magic.

Crabbe and Goyle too stepped up closer, trying to be intimidating. What a sight it must have been, wizards lacking in magic, instead trying to outdo each other in brawns.

"Leave Malfoy, we really don't want to talk to you," said Potter at last. He looked at Draco oddly, as if confused by his behavior.

"You think the Dark Lord will just let this pass?" he said.

"So is this how we are doing things? Now that your father is exposed for the felon he is, you'll start threatening us with your dear Dark Lord?" snorted Granger.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, you filthy mudblood. You should keep your mouth shut before you go the same way your parents did."

Several things happened at once and Draco found it difficult to keep up with the different sensations. A solid strike impacted his temple and sent his brain in a tizzy. At the same time, a spell impacted him from behind and his wand flew out of his pocket. He could sense some movement on both of his sides, but that stopped abruptly with two synchronized thuds.

With his vision swimming, he straightened up, only for another blow to come crashing straight into his jaw. Something snapped, and he could suddenly taste blood in his mouth. An unbearable wave of pain assaulted him. He felt it hard to breathe all of a sudden and staggered onto the floor. Tears pricked at his eyes due to the pain, and he placed his hands in front of his face, trying to shield himself from any other attacks.

All of a sudden, his vision cleared up and he was no longer in the Great Hall. Instead, he found himself in a cavernous location. The lighting was dim, and he could not see much beyond a couple of meters in front of him. What increased the oddity was that he could no longer feel the pain in his jaw. Although the pain was not present, he was sure that the injury was still there, as he could not move his mouth.

"I thought subtle suggestions would be enough to keep you in line," a sinister voice echoed from all around. He spun around, peering into the darkness, trying to discern who was speaking. A muffled sound escaped his throat, as he attempted to speak, but failed yet again.

"Alas, it seems like I would need to take a hands on approach," the voice whispered. Draco wondered if the pain had driven him insane.

All of a sudden, thousands of tiny orbs blotted the darkness. It took him a moment to realize that the orbs were eyes. He looked around in trepidation, patting his pockets with trembling hands, in search of his wand.

The orbs moved closer and closer until he could finally see them. Thousands upon thousands of snakes of various sizes and colors. Despite his pride on being a Slytherin, despite his fondness for the reptile, at that moment, Draco feared snakes the most.

A muffled scream left his mouth as hoards of the blasted things descended on him. They quickly strangled his feet and began crawling up his body. He tried to grab a few and throw them off, to no avail. Some bit him, while others just constricted around him, attempting to crush his bones to a pulp.

Amidst all this pain, his Jaw began hurting again and his vision alternated between the infernal cave and the Great Hall. He did not know which was real and which was not. As he passed out, he could not discern whether what he saw in his delirium was real or not. All he knew was that he regretted getting up from his seat.

##################

Ronald Weasley caught on to the fact that something was wrong when several people began gasping and muttering to each other.

He knew that Harry had launched a newspaper. Launched a newspaper- words like that would never be even imagined inside the Weasley household. He was aware that many people were interested in what the newspaper would say. But Ron was never interested in the blasted things. If there was anything important, Hermione would always let them now. A pang of guilt flashed through him at the thought of Hermione.

"What's going on?" he asked Lavender. She was the one with whom he spent the most amount of time these days. Apart from their shared prefect duties, she was one of the only few people in his year who he could talk with regularly. He was on the outs with Harry, Hermione and Neville. He wasn't talking to Dean because the git was dating Ginny. Seamus was Dean's best mate and stuck with him. The only ones speaking to him still were Lavender and Parvati. It would change soon enough, they'd all get back to normal, like always.

It still pissed him off that Harry would blatantly take Hermione's side over his. What else could he expect? Harry always had a soft spot for her. He stopped thinking about it, as it would just keep souring his mood.

"Read it Ron, you don't want to miss out," she said as she thrust the newspaper towards him. He grumbled and took the paper from her.

The more he read, the more his jaw dropped. It was one thing outing You-Know-Who's heritage, but it was totally something else, the way Harry went in on him. Entire bloodlines had been wiped off for far less. Ron feared that the boy had lost his head. The git had gone and done it without a care for the people around him. Sure, he had nothing to lose now, since Sirius was gone as well. But that wasn't the case for his friends, he should have known that.

Any thoughts of reconciling with the selfish prick went out of his mind that instant. He was pretty sure that his mother was getting a heart attack at this very moment. He would need to write a letter to Bill, to fortify the protections around the Burrow.

It was not as if the family hadn't already been attacked on Harry's birthday. What was worse was that most of them were home at the time of the attack. If the Order hadn't arrived, and if the protections hadn't held up, they would all have been dead. Now they would have to shore up their defenses for another possible attack.

He saw that Hermione had also insulted You-Know-Who. Of course she would, she was pissed at the world ever since her parents died. Yes, it was unfair. But doing this would not bring them back. Instead, doing things like this would only get her killed. In a way, he knew that at least he wouldn't be dragged onto this mess. Then again, he and his family would be targeted regardless, since they had supported Harry so far, and were in the Order.

"Oooh, here he comes," whispered Lav. He followed her line of sight and saw that Malfoy was walking towards Harry. He was really divided whether to join him in berating Harry, or joining Harry in the inevitable verbal beat down that Malfoy would accrue.

As he sat and observed, nothing much had changed on that front. Malfoy was as abrasive as ever, and it looked like Harry and the others were tired of his voice.

It looked like he had goaded Neville too much and he had taken an exception to that. It was an uncanny sight, seeing Neville stare down Malfoy and his cronies. It was a confrontation that had been building up for years now. Neville had been tormented by those three a lot over the years, and it seemed like he finally wanted to strike back.

Things went from bad to worse when Malfoy insulted Hermione with a slur and reminded her about her parents. From his own experience, Ron knew that Hermione would absolutely murder the little shit for that. Heck, half the house had grabbed their wands due to him calling her a mudblood.

The entire table rattled, and Ron got an unpleasant flashback of how Hermione's out of control magic had almost blown up the Burrow in her rage. Beating everyone to the punch, Neville stepped forward and clocked Malfoy on his head.

Faster than Ron could comprehend, Harry whipped his wand and got both Crabbe and Goyle under a body-bind. The speed of the casting unnerved Ron. At the same time, a spell flew in from the Hufflepuff table and hit Malfoy in the back. Ron saw the wand fly out Malfoy's pocket and land on Bones' hand.

As if that weren't enough, Neville threw another punch at Malfoy's face. This one was followed by a sickening snap, as Malfoy's jaw gave way, and the git fell on the floor.

"What is going on here?" roared McGonagall as she reached the site of the commotion.

Malfoy groaned in response and passed out. A puddle formed beneath him, and it stank up the place in an instant. Ron grumbled at his spoiled appetite and turned his attention back towards the teachers.

Snape had appeared along with McGonagall, but he was busy waving his wand over Malfoy, trying to see what the damage was. McGonagall had already awakened Crabbe and Goyle from the petrificus totalus.

Looking at Snape just induced a deep hatred within Ron. The bastard should have known that they would get attacked, yet he had kept quiet. There was a whole row where his mother had shouted herself raw, but the slimy git was still in the Order for some reason.

"Dislocated jaw, nothing else," he drawled with a disgusted expression on his face. He waved his wand once more, and the puddle of piss disappeared. Malfoy, the cowardly shit was still unconscious though. A dislocated jaw was nothing major, Pomfrey would fix it in a jiffy. Ron had seen worse injuries on the Quidditch pitch.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for both of you. And fifty points from Hufflepuff as well, Ms. Bones," McGonagall's verdict had the entire house clamoring at her, while Harry and Neville looked unperturbed. Hermione hadn't moved from her seat the whole time and was looking at Malfoy with pure loathing. A look she diverted towards Snape as well. Ron was intimately familiar with that. Even though he wanted to protest the unfair treatment, he kept quiet. He didn't want to invite Hermione's ire on him once again. Nor did he want to speak up for those who would leave him behind like he was yesterday's trash.

"Quiet!" once everyone was silent, she continued, "Mr. Potter, Ms. Bones, detention with me today evening. And you, Mr. Longbottom, detention for two weeks." That got the rest of the house started once more.

"What about Malfoy?" Hermione's voice cut through the din.

"What about him Ms. Granger? He is the one that got injured," she said in confusion.

"He called me a mudblood and said that I would die just like my parents. Are you encouraging behavior like that now?" surprisingly, Snape flinched violently at that.

Not giving them room to talk, Harry took over, "Professor, this has been going on for years. He calls people mudbloods, he has said to me that I would end up like my 'foolish' parents, yet he walks away every time without any repercussions."

"Be that as it may, I have told you this past year as well, when you and the twins beat up Mr. Malfoy after that Quidditch match. No matter the provocation, it is no grounds for you ganging up on him like this-"

"It was a three versus three situation," interrupted Neville.

"It is still disgraceful behavior. You decided to give us an exhibition of muggle dueling instead of leaving it to us?" she barked. Ron observed as Snape was strangely quiet. Oh he was pissed for sure. But for some reason, he was just staring at Harry and Neville with contempt.

"Leave it to you? Like we've left it to you all these years? We all know how much of a waste that is, isn't it? It is you all letting them walk around without any castigation, that fuels their bigotry. They go outside thinking that they won't get punished, and they kill honest folk!" she shouted.

That, silenced everyone. McGonagall would usually be shocked, but she wasn't. She had gotten used to the belligerent side of Hermione over the summer. To everyone else who wasn't related to the Order though, it was a major shock.

Hermione Granger, the studious teacher's pet, shouting at a teacher. He wasn't counting hags like Trelawney and worse yet, Umbridge. He could see Lavender in his peripheral vision. Her hand was covering her mouth, a perfect picture of shock.

"We won't be attending any detentions until you tell these Death Eater candidates to shape up; in a way that sticks. Come Harry, Nev, let's go," she picked up her bag and started walking out.

"Unfortunately, the status quo can't be maintained in the current climate professor," Harry said as he picked up his own bag. Neville on the other hand was already on his way towards Hermione. Unsurprisingly, Luna, Bones and Abbott all got up from their tables and followed them.

"Day by day, you truly emulate your father, Potter," Snape, the greasy bat, couldn't let it go. Ron knew that there was something odd, the way he had been silent the whole time. It seemed like he was waiting to get the last word in.

"You would know all about emulating one's father, wouldn't you professor?" asked Harry. Ron didn't know what Harry meant by it, but that sentence seemed to have utterly infuriated Snape.

The man snarled and drew his wand, and Harry raised his already drawn wand in response.

"Enough," said Dumbledore, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Join your friends Harry, I will have a talk with you later," he said, as if it was a common occurrence for him and Harry to sit down and have a chat. It was times like this, that Ron hated being out of the loop.

Harry just nodded in response and walked out of the hall.

"I will oversee their detentions," Dumbledore said to McGonagall.

"But-"

"No, Minerva. They have grievances against the establishment, I would like to hear more from them. I will take care of this," he them hummed for a moment and continued, "On the other hand, why don't you oversee Mr. Malfoy's punishment? I am sure Poppy would have him up and running within the end of the hour."

"Professor-" Snape tried to interrupt, but Dumbledore was having none of it.

"No Severus. I have let you handle Mr. Malfoy for far too long, let's see if a different approach can work on the lad. On the other hand, please keep up your attempts on helping him, like the rest of your students," he said cryptically and walked back towards the teacher's table.

Snape grumbled and walked out of the Great Hall. McGonagall on the other hand seemed unsure about what to do. She then took a deep breath and walked back to her table.

Immediately, Lavender and Parvati started chattering excitedly, as Ron went back to his breakfast plate.

"It's a madhouse," he muttered before he picked up the cutlery.

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A.N: If you didn't notice it already, all the three reporters I mentioned throughout these two chapters are from the Daily Bugle. The employees at Caster's Chronicle were obscuring their identities, and decided to have some fun with it.

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