Chapter Eight: Ministry Troubles
Harish was glad he didn't have Defense Against the Darks Arts the next day. When he had said this to Fred and George they had questioned him, "Why did you argue with her?"
"We know she's with the Ministry."
"She's actually doing our side good!"
"Well she's not doing me good," Harish grumbled. "She talks to us as though we are toddlers even though we are adults too. She's not even preparing us for our NEWT's. At this rate, everyone in our year—and the fifth year—will flunk their exams."
Honestly, Harish didn't really care about people flunking their exams. The main thing was that he wanted to do something in his classes. It was pointless to go to a class that was already (in his opinion) pointless, and sit there not doing anything.
"I know she's helping us to some extent by keeping tabs on Dumbledore, but this is even more pointless! People aren't learning how to take care of themselves! This is making it were any person that might possibly join our side won't even know any spells that they could fight with. By doing this, she's hindering both sides."
"So what do we do about it?" Fred asked.
"What?" Harish asked. "What do you mean?"
"What do we do about not being able to cast any spells?" George asked.
"I'm going to do some research," Harish replied shortly dropping his school bag onto a chair and heading off for the library.
The twins shook their heads. Fred, the most brash of the group, wanted to literally do something about it. But no, Harish's solution was to go read a book!
Even with all of the controversy with Umbridge, the three of them were still working on their Skiving Snackboxes. That night they met with some first years that had come to them, looking to earn a bit of extra money.
Fred pulled out a paper bag and handed each of them a new sweet they had just come up with. Each of the short eleven-year-olds took a sweet and popped it into their mouths, chewing. Then, one by one, the first years slumped unconsciously in their seats as though hit by invisible mallets. Some slid right off their chairs and onto the floor while others hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. The people in the common room who had stopped to watch roared with laughter.
Hermione, however, got up from in between Draco and Daphne and marched straight over to where Harish and George were bending over the unconscious first years with clipboards.
"That's enough," she said to the three of them, all who looked at her in surprise.
"Yeah, you're right," George said, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"
"It's all right to test this rubbish on yourselves, but other students?"
"We're paying them!" Fred said indignantly.
"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"
"Rubbish," Fred said.
"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine," Harish said reassuringly as he walked from first year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.
"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," George said.
A few of the first years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that it was evident the three seventh years had not warned them what the sweets would do.
"Feel all right?" Fred asked kindly to a small dark haired girl lying at his feet.
"I-I think so," she said shakily.
"Excellent," George said happily, making a note on his clipboard, but the nest second Hermione had snatched it and the paper bag out of the twins' hands.
"It is NOT excellent!"
"'Course it is, they're alive aren't they?" George retorted.
"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"
"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves. We just want to make sure everyone reacts the same—"
"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to—"
"Put us in detention?" Fred asked in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.
"Make us write lines?" George queried, smirking.
Onlookers in the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.
"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."
"You wouldn't," George said, horrified, and took a step back from her.
"Oh, yes, I would," she said. "I can't stop you from eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not going to give them to first years."
All three boys looked thunderstruck. With one last threatening look at them, she thrust the clipboard and paper bag back at George and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
"And I thought I had stamped that out of her," Harish said faintly.
"Where did we go wrong?" Fred wondered aloud, quietly.
George simply shook his head.
Tuesday morning dawned as gray and rainy as the previous one. In all of their classes, both the fifth years and the seventh years were receiving lectures for their upcoming exams that June. The fifth years found themselves with more homework that they thought possible, and the seventh years could only be glad that they had so many free periods.
On Wednesday, the Slytherin fifth years had their Defense Against Dark Arts class. While Harish had argued with Umbridge about the way she run the class, Hermione argued about the course aims, riling the whole class up. Nearly all of the students protested against the fact that they weren't going to be learning magic, and argued about when they would need defensive spells in the real world.
The rest of the week passed similarly for everyone. The main difference was that the twins had taken their poster off of the notice board, obviously taken Hermione's threat to heart.
Then, on Saturday, things picked up a bit.
Hermione received the paper as usual, skimming through it to see what the Ministry was up to. Then, she exclaimed quietly, "Oh no…Sirius!"
"What's happened?" Harish asked an he snatched the paper so violently it ripped down the middle so that that he and Hermione were holding half each.
"'The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer…' blah, blah, blah…'is currently hiding in London!'" Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.
"What was Sirius doing in London?" George asked.
"Undercover scouting for my dad," Harish said. "Though he was supposed to be in his animagus form. How did they know…?"
But Hermione kept reading aloud, "…'Ministry warns Wizarding community that Black is very dangerous…killed thirteen people…broke out of Azkaban…' the usual rubbish," Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking worriedly at Harish, who looked glumly at the bit of the Prophet he had torn off.
Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.
"Hey!" he said, flattening it down so the twins could see it. "Look at this!"
"We've got enough robes," George said.
"No," Harish protested, "look…this little piece here…"
Both Weasleys bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:
Trespass at Ministry
Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizenagamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watch-wizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.
"Sturgis Podmore?" Fred said slowly. "He's that bloke who looks like his head's been thatched. He's one of the Order."
"Hey!" George exclaimed. "I heard Moody mutter something about him on the 1st! He was supposed to be part of the escort to the train station!"
"Yeah," Harish said. "And apparently he wouldn't give Moody's invisibility cloak back either. That's why he was showing Neville that picture at the party."
"What picture?" Hermione asked, curious.
"Nothing," Harish said. "Just some old picture, that's all."
Sunday evening as they were sitting in the common room, an owl flew over and dropped a letter on Fred's lap. Fred and George were sitting beside each other, planning out the antidote to the Nosebleed Nougat and Harish was sitting in a chair reading a book.
"Hermes!" George exclaimed at the sight of the owl.
"That's definitely Percy's handwriting," Fred said. "'To Fred and George Weasley, Slytherin House, Hogwarts.' What d'you reckon?"
"Open it," Harish said.
Fred unrolled the scroll and began to read, George reading over his shoulder. The farther their eyes went down, the more pronounced their scowls got. When George had finished reading, he looked disgusted. Fred finished not long after and thrust the letter at Harish, who took it cautiously and read it.
Dear Fred and George,
I have only heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher) that you two are still hanging around Harish Blake.
He has caused trouble for Madam Umbridge, suggesting that the Ministry is wrong in their teachings. I am sure you two are surprised to hear this—no doubt you will say that Blake has always been Slytherin House's favorite—but I feel bound to tell you that he may be in some serious trouble if this continues. Then, you two will most likely be dragged along into it.
I know you do not approve of Dumbledore, which is a good thing for I am afraid he may not be in charge at Hogwarts for much longer. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing—and see if you can spot your truly!
Seriously, boys, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Blake's. Of course, he is not the only one. I have sent a similar letter to Ron about his friend Neville Longbottom, an obvious Dumbledore lover. But this is not about Dumbledore. Harish Blake is a dark young man. As you should know, he speaks Parseltongue and has the potential to become the next Dark Lord.
It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Blake—I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent—but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Blake's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to go to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you.
I am sorry I was unable to see you more over the summer. It pains me to criticize out parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore, as only you two could surely understand. I count myself lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people—the Minister really could not be more gracious to me—and I do hope, boys, that you will not allow family to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions either. I sincerely hope, that in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
Please think over what I have said, most particularly the bit about Harish Blake.
Your brother,
Percy
Harish looked up at the twins.
"Well," he said, sounding as though the whole thing was a joke, "If you want to—er—what is it?" (He checked Percy's letter.) "Oh yeah—'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."
Fred snatched it out of Harish's hand and ripped it up before throwing it into the fire.
"I thought you might react that way," Harish said with a smile. "C'mon. Let's go make those antidotes."