Chapter 61. Appointment with minister (part 2)

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Remus. "I don't know, Paddy," he admitted sadly. "Come on. We'll think of something," he coaxed, obviously trying to cheer Sirius up. "Right now let's just be grateful that he was strong enough to survive with his spirit intact."

"Mostly intact, anyway," Sirius agreed gloomily, fiddling with one of Arabella's knickknacks. Harry was remarkably strong willed and tenacious, despite the Dursleys' efforts to keep him as downtrodden as possible, but now that he knew what to look for, Sirius thought he could see subtle signs of what the boy had endured.

"He doesn't trust us," he summed up abruptly, after thinking a few minutes in silence.

"He trusts us in his own way," Remus disagreed, "and he trusts you over everyone else, so don't bloody forget that," he continued, shaking a scolding finger. "If he chooses to confide in anyone it will most likely be you."

"Bollocks," Sirius retorted with an impatient swipe of his hand. "If he trusts me so bloody much why is he acting like this? And don't you dare say it's because of that scene in Dumbledore's office the other night."

"Well not entirely, anyway. You must admit that it probably didn't help matters, though," Remus pointed out. He looked like he was about to continue but was interrupted when their stack of Order parchment rang for attention.

"What does he want now?" Sirius grumbled, expecting yet another "errand" for one of them from Dumbledore, or worse, another "meeting". Stalking over to his stack of paper, he froze in surprise when he recognized Harry's writing on top.

"What? What is it?" Remus asked, alarmed.

"It's from Harry!" Sirius crowed, grinning realistically for the first time in days as he snatched the pages from the top of the stack. "It's a letter from Harry!"

"Excellent! What does he say?" Remus asked eagerly, brightening with a smile of his own.

"Well if you'll pipe down, I'll tell you," Sirius responded, smoothing out the pages and clearing his throat. " 'Dear Sirius,' " he began, " 'I've been trying to write to you for a couple of days now, but everything I put down on paper just sounds like rubbish. It's kind of hard to explain something to you that I don't really understand myself. Anyway, I've decided to just write the thing, even though I know it's going to sound stupid.' " Sirius stopped and glanced up at Remus. "Hmm. We really should speak to Harry about that towering self confidence of his. No wonder Snape thinks he's arrogant."

Remus snorted in spite of himself. "Give him a break, Paddy. We didn't have all the answers at fifteen either."

"True enough, Mr. Moony. Mr. Padfoot concedes your point and respectfully asks for permission to continue."

"Mr. Moony observes that Mr. Padfoot's critique was the cause of the interruption, however Mr. Moony will grant permission for expediency's sake," Remus replied, slipping into their old Hogwarts debating style without missing a beat.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius said, brushing off the details with a wave of his hand before returning to the letter. " 'I suppose I should start by apologizing for my behavior the other night. I just...I don't know. Maybe I should start at the beginning instead and kind of work up to that part. I guess the story starts on July first at King's Cross Station. No. Wait. It starts a little earlier in the day-at Hogsmeade Station. Professor Dumbledore came up to me while I was waiting for the train with Ron and Hermione. I was a little excited, I guess. I was really hoping I'd be allowed to go directly to the Burrow, but he said it was too dangerous, and that Surrey was the safest place for me and for them.' "

Frowning, Sirius began to summarize. "He talks about mistaking someone for his uncle at King's Cross and catching a train to Little Whinging, and finding the house empty. You were right, he did go to Arabella's before catching the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley," he commented absently to Remus, then snorted in disbelief. "He was afraid Tom would be frightened or turn him away. Please. Have you ever known Tom to refuse anyone? He also says he was planning to spend one night, then owl someone in the morning."

"Well that seems reasonable. What changed his mind?"

Sirius raked a hand through his hair, torn between amusement and exasperation. "It appears that he ran across his mysterious employer fairly quickly, and once his living arrangements were taken care of, he was prepared to just hunker down and wait it out. He reckoned he shouldn't "bother" us. Says he wasn't sure how we'd react."

"Are you saying he was embarrassed ?" Remus blurted, aghast, even as he tried to understand where Harry was coming from. "He thinks we'd blame him because those ignorant Muggles turned tail and ran?"

"That's about the size of it," Sirius said, continuing to scan the letter, "but he still doesn't say why-ah! Here we go. 'I know you're probably wondering why I'm refusing to tell you where I am. I guess it's because...' " Sirius raised an eyebrow and trailed off.

"Because what?" Remus finally demanded, watching impatiently as his friend frowned and scanned the letter intently.

"I don't know," Sirius said, flipping the page around so Lupin could see the numerous scratched out lines. "Looks like he doesn't either. Even says so here," he stated, pointing to where the handwriting began again. "See? 'In truth, Sirius, I don't really understand it myself. Well, okay, I guess I understand part of it. I don't want to leave. I'm happy here. And I most definitely do not want to return to my aunt and uncle's home-Australia or otherwise.' " he read, then looked hurt. "Am I reading this right? Does he honestly think that he's going to be sent back to his worthless relatives?"

Remus sighed heavily. "He might at that," he admitted reluctantly. "It would explain quite a lot, don't you agree?"

Sirius refused to be pacified. "What does he take us for? How could he even entertain the notion?"

"Oh, please! Dumbledore all but ordered him not to contact anyone. Besides, he knows your hands are tied at the moment. What are you going to do? Waltz into the Ministry of Magic and sue for custody?"

"I might," Sirius retorted, rising to the challenge.

"Don't be daft. You'd be back in Azkaban or worse before you could even say two words, and where would that leave Harry?"

"Harry seems to be getting along just bloody fine," Sirius retorted petulantly. "It's obvious he thinks he doesn't need anyone."

"Uh-huh. So that's why he's telling you about having nightmares and visions, and stressing over whether you and the Weasleys still want him?" Remus asked dryly, moving to read over Sirius' shoulder.

"What?"

"Maybe you should finish reading the letter before jumping to conclusions, bonehead."

"Shut it, I was getting there."

"Quite. With the grace and speed of a crippled flobberworm, I might add."

Sirius pulled a face then quickly scanned the rest of the letter. "What the bloody hell is he on about? 'If you've changed your mind about me living with you' indeed! He must be joking! And the Weasleys! Doesn't he know how many times Molly asked if he could stay? Is he serious? He can't be serious! Tell me he's not serious!"

"No, that would be you," Remus grinned, then sobered. "All kidding aside, Paddy, I think Harry's dead serious."

"This just gets better and better, doesn't it?" Sirius muttered, flopping dejectedly on the couch.

_________

A wizard's work is never done, Lucius Malfoy sighed to himself as he strode importantly through the Ministry of Magic with the Minister himself at his side. They had been in meetings most of the morning, and were now off to enjoy an early lunch once the minister dropped some papers off at his office.

Cornelius Fudge, as had become his habit since the night of the Dark Lord's rebirth, was trotting along fretting about Albus Dumbledore and that insufferable Potter brat.

Potter.

Lucius unconsciously tightened his grip on his serpent-headed walking stick when he recalled how the boy had slipped out of their grasp, but managed to keep all traces of annoyance from his expression. Instead, he molded his features into an mask of attention and made little noises of agreement or consolation where appropriate while the minister continued his monologue.

Fudge wasn't saying anything of import at the moment, so Malfoy let him babble and continued his analysis. For the life of him, he couldn't comprehend why that idiot, Barty Crouch, had used a "round trip" portkey spell. The man obviously had less than a thimbleful of sense, or the spellcasting ability of a Mudblood if that was the best he could manage. All those years under the Imperious Curse must have permanently damaged his brain.

As he continued down the corridor Malfoy cursed their bad luck. He would have never made such an obvious mistake! Presenting prisoners with an escape route on a silver platter was not a sound plan. Especially prisoners who had proven troublesome in the past. The most dunderheaded first year at Hogwarts should be able to deduce that! Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, Crouch and that worthless Pettigrew were the only Death Eaters available who could perform long term tasks without being missed. Lucius and most of the others were employed, or at the very least had friends and family, and couldn't simply vanish for months on end.

Inconvenient, that. The scene in the graveyard would have played out very differently if someone competent had been in charge and Potter had been trapped without a convenient ride back to Hogwarts. Wounded as he was, the boy wouldn't have gotten very far on foot. He would have tired quickly and been easy prey.

Relishing the thought, Lucius fingered the fangs of his serpent-head walking stick, thinking of the blade hidden within. Oh, yes. Very differently indeed.

Potter's escape had infuriated the Dark Lord, of course, but he had been surprisingly lenient in the "punishments" he handed out. The Death Eaters left standing empty-handed in the wake of the trophy portkey had expected to suffer grievously for the error, but the Dark Lord had other plans. Instead of torturing them for hours on end, he had put them to work getting his old manor house set to rights instead of merely "habitable" which was all that idiot Pettigrew could manage. He'd only thrown in an occasional Crucio to keep them on their toes.

Luckily, Lucius still had the Malfoy fortune at his disposal, which was very useful in avoiding some of the more menial jobs. Compared to most of the other Death Eaters, he was actually getting off ridiculously easy. All the Dark Lord wanted from him was political intrigue, galleons from the Malfoy vault, and a chance to "recruit" Draco once the boy turned sixteen. Shaking his head slightly, Malfoy had to appreciate his master's choice of wording. He actually made it sound like the boy had a choice!

That Crouch had missed this "discipline," annoyed his fellow Death Eaters to no end, especially since the Dark Lord's abysmally horrible mood was entirely his fault. Lucius supposed being given the Dementor's Kiss settled the score to some small degree, but it lacked the satisfaction of taking matters into his own hands. At any rate the simpleton was silenced before he could do any damage, and anyone who was that susceptible to the Imperious Curse was probably an unwanted liability, anyway.

Speaking of liabilities, Cornelius was still going at it. It was amazing how he never seemed to run out of things to say. On the other hand, he did have his uses. To give credit where it was due, Fudge's actions with regard to Crouch had brought about their current course of action. The minister's public face was that of a wise and kindly wizard, but on the night of the Dark Lord's rebirth he had shown himself capable of swift, vicious, even foolhardy action when he felt threatened.

The irony of the situation was delicious. Potter literally had them dead to rights. He had seen his classmate murdered, witnessed the rebirth ceremony, knew how the Dark Lord had survived all those years and heard him call most if not all of the responding Death Eaters by name. He could identify them all and have them sent to Azkaban in an instant, but because of his age, some poor choices on the boy's part and some unkind twists of fate, no one would believe him!

Draco and the esteemed Potions Master, Severus Snape, kept Lucius up-to-date with school events, so he knew quite a lot about the happenings at Hogwarts. Thanks primarily to Rita Skeeter and the Sirius Black fiasco, Potter's word was considered suspect at best by the minister. No one had even bothered to test the validity of his story.

Not that that was a bad thing, of course, or even that unusual, now that he pondered it. Weasley was always blathering about some "innocent until proven guilty" rubbish that the Muggles favored, but Lucius personally didn't see the point. Trials were expensive and seemed a waste of time and money, especially when facts spoke so eloquently for themselves. Narcissa's cousin had been carted off to Azkaban and left to rot without anyone even bothering to take a statement. Likewise, according to Severus, the authorities hadn't interrogated Crouch on the night of June 24th. He'd simply been given the Kiss, no questions asked.

With Crouch so conveniently silenced, their main problems were Potter and Dumbledore. Potter, since he was the only outsider who knew the truth, and Dumbledore, who was the only person with any power who appeared to believe him. Both were too well protected to attack openly, hence the current campaign to discredit them utterly. A good deal of the general Wizard pubic blindly believed anything they read, especially if it was an article in the Daily Prophet.

Glancing smugly at the flustered wizard beside him, Lucius silently congratulated himself. It was one of his better ideas. Since he was already on friendly terms with Cornelius Fudge, the Dark Lord had tasked him with cultivating the minister's paranoid side and gently guiding him down the garden path. He was grateful for the opportunity to smile openly when the minister made a small jest. Oh, Fudge was embarrassingly easy to manipulate! All he really had to do was tell the minister what he wanted to hear, and slip in a few "helpful" suggestions during the course of conversation.

Speaking of which...Lucius weighed his options. He supposed he probably should actually say something-pearls before swine and all that-but on the other hand they had practically reached their destination. Perhaps something quick and pithy, then. He regretted not listening well for maybe half a second before an opportunity to be "helpful" presented itself in the form of one Albus Dumbledore. They were coming up on the minister's office and Lucius, who had the advantage of height, could see the aged wizard in the waiting area, speaking to Arthur Weasley's spawn. How delightful.

Fudge was still going on at length about the Hogwarts headmaster, so Lucius could make himself look like a hero by simply telling the other wizard to cease his accursed babbling.

As long as he phrased it nicely, of course.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Minister, but isn't that the Headmaster now?" he asked, doing his best to sound mildly surprised.

As hoped Fudge broke off immediately. "What?" he gasped, looking horrified. Lucius enjoyed a few seconds of silence while the other wizard stepped in front of him and peered ahead, then sighed mentally when the minister piped up again, this time feverishly thanking him.

"Oh, good show, Lucius! Very good show indeed! The old fellow may be a bit touched in the head, but it's very bad form to go around insulting wizards to their faces!"

"Very bad form indeed, Minister," Lucius agreed sagely. It's easier and much safer to insult them behind their backs.

"Still I wonder what he's doing here," Cornelius frowned in confusion. "I distinctly recall Mr. Weasley-Percival that is-informing me he had an appointment in two weeks' time, not today!"

Lucius nodded, hiding his acute interest behind a bland facade while his mind began to click through the possibilities. Fudge had already told him Weasley junior's account of Weasley senior making an appointment for the headmaster. At the time he'd dismissed it as some routine matter, especially if Dumbledore was content to wait. Since Dumbledore was obviously willing to push the issue, his errand might be of interest to his master. He'd have to tread carefully so as not to be ejected from the proceedings. "Perhaps he wishes to reschedule," he speculated with a shrug. "Or perhaps he's been in contact with Potter again and has more shocking news for you," he quipped, getting one last dig in before they entered.

The two wizards shared a knowing look, then paused a second more so Fudge could don his 'congenial but very busy' persona before entering. "Headmaster Dumbledore!" he exclaimed as he walked briskly through the door. "Absolutely lovely to see you-"

"And you as well, Minister," Albus replied smoothly, cutting Fudge off before he could get to the 'so sorry, but I really don't have time to chat' part. Lucius hung back and stayed silent, enjoying the show. Dumbledore might be one of the Dark Lord's major opponents, but he had to admit, the old boy was good.

Or maybe Fudge was just that pathetic.

Regardless, one should never pass up the opportunity to observe an adversary. There was always something to be learned.

"I know you must be very busy, Minister, so I'll be brief," Dumbledore continued, before Fudge could gather his wits enough to make the claim himself. "I trust your excellent assistant, Mr. Weasley, told you that we suspect that an Archive Folder is malfunctioning, and why we require your assistance. If you consider the circumstances, I think you will agree that it must be examined immediately," the headmaster stated, blithely ignoring Percy who was making animated gestures to gain Fudge's attention. "To expedite matters, I have brought Hogwarts' resident Charms expert, Professor Flitwick. He should be able to determine if the folder was tampered with, and hopefully set it to rights in short order."

Fudge blinked a couple of times, looking unforgivably confused, in Lucius' opinion. One should never admit ignorance. The minister did redeem himself a bit when he nodded politely to the Charms professor, then excused himself and whirled on a very chagrined-looking Percy Weasley. Lucius smirked behind his hand, and casually moved to a spot where he could lean comfortably against the wall. If the spot allowed him to conveniently "overhear" their hissed conversation, so much the better.

"I thought you said this was a routine matter that was of no great import, Mr. Weasley!"

"I did! It is! My father came in spouting some ridiculous story about how Harry was neglected by his Muggle relatives! I said I would send a team out to investigate but he refused! Clearly, a proper investigation would uncover their lack of proof."

Perhaps, Lucius conceded thoughtfully, or they may simply want to keep their facts out of the "Daily Prophet".

"Perhaps we should move this conversation into your office, Minister," Dumbledore suggested pointedly, silencing the other two wizards. "Professor Flitwick and I will be happy to clear up any misunderstandings and answer any questions," he continued more placatingly.

"Yes, yes, of course," Fudge agreed, before remembering his luncheon date. He stopped and looked indecisively at Malfoy, but Lucius waved a forgiving hand. "Duty calls, Minister. I am content to wait." To prove his claim, he folded his elegant figure into one of the comfortable chairs in the outer office and gave Dumbledore a mocking little nod. "If the headmaster is as efficient as he claims, you should be done in no time. Perhaps Mr. Weasley here can nip down to the Archive and fetch the folder in question, just to save time."

Cornelius brightened. "An excellent idea!" he enthused. "Run along, Percy, there's a good chap. Thank you, Lucius, we'll try to be brief."

"Take your time, Minister, I'm off for the rest of the day so there's no great need to rush," Malfoy forgave easily, watching in amusement as Weasley huffed out the door as fast as his long legs could carry him, and the other wizards disappeared into Fudge's office. Delores Umbridge, Fudge's other staff member, appeared to be at lunch already which was perfect.

Hurrying over to the door, he cast a small alarm spell that would let him know if anyone was approaching from the hallway, then went over to Weasley's desk. He cast a quick Scourgify on the desk and chair, then keyed on the magical intercom and listened to the arguing voices filtering through the device.

"Minister I still believe it would be prudent-"

"Don't be daft, Albus, there's no need for silencing spells! No one eavesdrops on the Minister's office! Wands are checked at the front for Heaven's sake! Besides there's no one out there but Lucius, so do get on with it."

Lucius rolled his eyes. How did someone so naive ever attain the post of Minister? he wondered, then began listening intently as Dumbledore finally sighed in exasperation, then got down to business.

The Hogwarts professors obviously suspected that their meeting wasn't anywhere near as private as they'd like, and were clearly trying to be cagey. Well acquainted with the futility of such an exercise, Malfoy nearly chuckled out loud when Fudge's native obtuseness neatly thwarted that plan, and forced them to speak more plainly than they probably would have liked. Steepling his fingers in front of him, Lucius raised an inquisitive brow and took note of details that might interest his master.

They suspected Potter's folder had been tampered with?

The alarm system was not functioning properly?

Potter needed to be removed from his Muggle guardian's care, and the sooner the better?

Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting indeed, Malfoy thought, a calculating gleam in his pale gray eyes.

"This should do it for the women's robes, Sparky," Maggie McKnight said, casting pressing and freshening charms on some of the garments she'd just finished re-hanging. "After this, all we have to do is sort through that pile of menswear."

Harry nodded, then raised an eyebrow at the number of robes still waiting to be put away. When he'd arrived, Madam Malkin had directed him over to the fitting area, and requested that he help Maggie sort the mess out. "You must have been busy earlier," he noted, as the witch removed the last few ladies' robes from the wall bar and draped them over his arm.

"Oh, aye," Maggie confirmed, pausing a moment to pocket her wand and stretch her fingers. "It was a very odd sort of morning. Normally we don't have so many customers all at once. They were mostly last-minute shoppers for the Whitworth wedding," she said, giving Harry a sly wink. "Can't be seen wearing last years' robes, don't y'know."

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes in response, and made his way to the ladies' department. Actually, he thought, methodically hanging the rich formalwear, it's been a rather odd sort of day all the way around.

First, there had been Pigwidgeon's rather ignominious arrival that morning. Frowning, the dark-haired teen made a mental note to check on the little owl again when he returned to the Leaky Cauldron, and maybe pop by Eeylop's Owl Imporium later. Pig's normal hyperactive manner had made his state of near collapse all the more frightening, and Harry was taking no chances. He'd looked in on the bird before leaving for Madam Malkin's, but hadn't really been able to get a clear indication of his health. He'd seemed to be sleeping comfortably, though, so Harry had left him under Hedwig's watchful eye, confident that the snowy owl would fetch him if need be.

Frowning thoughtfully, Harry hung the last of the womenswear then made his way back to where Maggie was working, still working through the events of the morning. Pig's condition had been a shock, but equally disturbing was Hermione's theory that he was somehow blocking tracking magic. He'd fretted about that a bit after reading the letter Pig had brought, but by the time he'd finished cleaning up and writing to Sirius, he'd mostly convinced himself that Hermione, brilliant though she might be, had to be mistaken in this case. Unless his magic was doing something without his knowledge or consent, there was no way he could do what she was suggesting. He wouldn't even know where to start for Heaven's sake!

Or so he'd thought.

Now he was beginning to wonder.

Harry grinned at Maggie as he accepted another armload of freshly pressed robes, ("Not too many now, there's no great rush!") then continued his musings as he trudged towards the men's department.

By the time he'd made his way down to the kitchen to help Tom open for the day, he'd dismissed Hermione's theory as daft, and moved on to more pressing matters like how he was going to smooth Ron's ruffled feathers and if it might be safe to tell his friends what was going on. Deep in thought, he'd greeted Tom, then headed out into the dining room to take the chairs off the tables. He hadn't really taken note of what the older wizard was doing until he came back for place settings and realized Tom hadn't budged an inch.

Curious, he had wandered over to see what was going on, and had found Tom fussing irritably with the tracking charm he'd cast the night Harry had escorted Janet and her girls back to their house. Tom had insisted that the spell was useful as a safety precaution, especially since he was out and about so much, so Harry had grudgingly allowed the older wizard to keep it on the condition that it be kept hidden.

In all honesty, Harry considered the tracking charm something of a nuisance, and hadn't been all that concerned when Tom hadn't been able to resolve his difficulty with it. He'd taken a much keener interest in the proceedings when Tom informed him that his charmed worklog was malfunctioning as well.

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