November 1st. 12 Grimmauld Place, the owner's office.
*
I need to strain my brain and formulate my thoughts perfectly. The first letter to Delacour, about new circumstances to use in our struggle. The second I wanted to write to Madame Olympe Maxime. But given the connections between Maxime and Delacour, I decided to wait for a conversation with Delacour. The second letter to Rita Skeeter, with a call for a meeting tomorrow evening, right at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Not knowing about Neville's death, I was planning a newspaper attack. Except now none of this is important. All of Dumbledore's enemies will be grabbed for the death of an heir.
I intend to send the Skeeter article to the French press in a week for enlightened Europe to feel the color. The death of a purebred English swamp quacks a steam-ship buzzer, and nobody cares about the attempted assassination of a Muggle-born. Well, in two weeks, I'll have my authoritative opinion on the Spider's intrigues. Yeah, that'll just be my opinion. But it's time for the local magicians to get used to it. As I said, it's the right thing to do! And I'll shut the dirty mouth of some singer I've bought so that everyone will understand the hint, and then they'll accept a higher power.
No, there'll be three letters after all. The third letter went to Anna. It's too early to publish on Snape's influence on British Potioning. In this flood of scandals, no one will pay attention to him. But there's nothing to stop Anna from being given a second task. Now we need to visit the bank and test my theory. Even two. Even three.
*
Gringotts
*
I wasn't wearing any cloaking amulets this time. I estimate the Spider will realize the depth of the dive in "chocolate" in two weeks. So as long as I'm not in danger of being attacked by professional killers. And I could use a beard to stretch out with the observers. "Letus".
In the conference room, after the greeting, I asked Shnagrog a very important question at the moment.
"Master Shnagrog, can I make an important financial outlook? I'm sure a professional like you, master, can make profitable use of it."
"I'm listening carefully, Mister Potter."
"The aristocrats of the Death Eaters who are serving their sentence in Azkaban are very likely to die in the next few days. Dumbledore will not retain his place as headmaster of Hogwarts and head of Wizengamot. He will lose his place as president of ICM in the coming months. I don't rule out that Voldemort will be reborn in the same months to come."
"This is all extremely interesting, Mister Potter. Time will show how right you were." The old goblin smiled.
That's when we said goodbye.
There were two observers on the way out of Gringotts, but they weren't coming, and I moved straight home. One theory was still unconfirmed. But that's for now.
*
12 Grimmauld Place
Living room
"Good afternoon, everyone!"
"Hello, Harry!" Joan answered for everyone.
"I predict that Dumbledore will be busy soon, and I'll help him with that.
So, again, I predict you'll be hunted by a lot of hired killers. But not him and not his terrorists. And that's good, because, as I said, I'm not ready for a power struggle with him now. Yeah, I've become strong in the last few months. I even met him in battle, and I survived, and he got hurt. But he's got a hundred years more experience on his side. Almost all those years he spent at the source of magic, he was building up his strength. Not to mention the knowledge. I'll protect you from hired assassins if you obey me. It'll be boring and long, but you'll stay alive. Or you can try to do it yourself. Once again, hired killers are only my predictions. Maybe they won't."
"You know, Harry," Joan started, and she looked over with Daniel. "We've already ascertained your prediction qualifications. If it wasn't for you, Hermione would have been hurt."
"I'll try to get her into a French magic school. As I understand it, are you all speaking freely? Well, that would be a plus. But in the meantime, obey me. Do not leave the house. I'll get your books and newspapers for fun. There's a journalist coming tomorrow night. I'll instruct you on what to say and what not to say. Don't say anything else."
When the Grangers were alone, Hermione decided to speak up:
"He's an evil dark magician!"
"Daughter," Joan strictly said, "Evil bastard magician is your Headmaster. He's made an attempt on your life using a troll just because your parents aren't powerful magicians who can get revenge on him."
"Hermione," supported Daniel's wife, "you always thought you were smart. So use your brain and think, who is the evil dark magician? The Headmaster, whose job it is to protect children or the man who took care of you. Harry gave you an amulet of help and is trying to get you into school. Otherwise, the same thing would have happened to you as Neville!"
During the morning conversation, Harry threw a paper on the table with Neville partially flattened on the front page, so all three had a full understanding of what Hermione had escaped.
"And yet he is evil and dark!" Hermione's Gryffindor obstinacy combined with his faith in teachers was unshakeable,
Kreacher was ordered to "avoid" problems with the Grangers, and the elf was nearby. He couldn't take it and he proved himself.
"Filthy, disgusting girl! The Good Lord takes care of you, gives you gifts, heals you, and makes your life comfortable. Where's your gratitude! You nasty, filthy, ungrateful girl. If Master hadn't told me to guard you, I'd have thrown you out in the street, in the mud, where you belong. If you thought a little of your head with a dirty mouth, you'd know the Hogwarts law! Hogwarts Headmaster knows where every living thing in the castle is. That's the magic of the castle! And if a troll kills children somewhere in the toilet, it's by Headmaster's permission and desire. But instead of thanking you for your salvation, you sleep in the master's bed, eat his food and say disgusting things about him with your dirty mouth! And you dare to blame the master? It is nasty for Kreacher to be near you," Kreacher disappeared with these words.
Hermione's frowned.
And it's true! What a crap she is! The only and unique Hero of Magic England saved her from death, treated her, cared for her. He even took care of her cat! And she says that about him. How unpleasant it must be for him! Hermione remembered the care of that mysterious boy.
"Mama," with tears in her eyes, she threw herself into Joan's arms, "what a mess I am! How could I think that? Ungrateful, evil thing."
"It's a good thing you understood that. It means it's not hopeless," replied Dan.
Joan was silently calming her daughter.
The next day, they weren't invited to the common table, breakfast was delivered by an invisible magical servant to the rooms. Uninformed about the Battlefield meeting, Hermione took the changes to her account and fell into despair.
In bed, I called all the agents and set up a meeting for the morning.
After 24 hours, I still had my strength on my feet, but there's no need to torture myself further. After falling into bed, all I hoped for was that Dumbledore was busy tonight "investigating" Neville's murder, so tonight his obvious plan to preserve the Headmaster chair would not be fulfilled.
And that's good, because the hero of the magical world needs sleep, too. Give me one gift, bearded Grandpa! You didn't give me back my mantle! Make the move that we calculated.