Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations
"Ron, c'mon!"
Ron came out of his room at the sound of his sister's voice and walked to the railing of his floor that overlooked the staircase below. There, Ginny was standing, holding something in her hand.
"What do you want?" he asked irritably.
"Dumbledore's here!" she called back up the stairs. "They having an important meeting!"
"So?" Ron asked. "There's no way of telling what's going on in there. They put a barrier over the door ages ago, remember?"
"Well," Ginny replied with a smirk. "The thing about being on the twins' good side is that I get free editions of their new products!"
She held up an ear that resembled the twins' old Extendable Ears, except there was no flesh coloured string attached.
"There's an ear hidden behind the ice box that picks up sounds within ten feet of it and it can project the sounds through this ear, no matter what has been cast on the door."
"That's genius!" Ron cried, hurrying down the stairs to join his sister in eavesdropping on the Order of the Phoenix.
LINE-BREAK
Littered throughout the Burrow's kitchen were different editions of the Daily Prophet. It had been nearly a week since the Ministry had been taken over, and many headlines blared at the members of the Order of the Phoenix from every angle. Dumbledore had read all of them of course, and they were part of the reason why he had called the Order together. They read:
Fudge a Failure?
This article went into depth on Fudge's problems and had featured an interview of a man named Anata Blake. In it, the man had said, "We had just wanted to show you how easy it was to take over…how inadequate this society has become…" This worried Dumbledore greatly, as he knew very well who Anata Blake actually was—Lord Voldemort.
Revolutionaries Take Over
Featuring yet another interview of Blake, this article spoke of how Blake had appointed Yaxley as the new Minister of Magic. It also spoke of the people that took over the positions of the Ministry personal that were still missing—Fudge had returned by then and was immediately disgraced and rejected by the majority of Magical Britain's population.
Harry Potter: Is He Still With Us?
Harry Potter sightings continued to occur. As time went on, people began wondering and discussing theory after theory. "Harry Potter's ghost might have returned," some would say. "Perhaps he has risen from the dead," others suggested. Dumbledore found this ludicrous. The most possible explanation was that Harry never died, but that was impossible. Dumbledore himself had cast the strongest tracking spell in existence to try to find the baby in the hopes that he hadn't truly died, but they had all come to the same conclusion—Harry Potter no longer existed in the mortal plane.
Dumbledore tore his eyes off of the stack of Daily Prophets and returned to the present meeting.
"—but what will we do about this?" Charlie was asking.
"We will be putting up new, and very strong, wards at Hogwarts, of course," Dumbledore replied.
"Won't You-Know-Who attack the train?" Tonks asked reasonably. "It would be easier to access."
"I highly doubt he would," Dumbledore replied. "The only reason he's going after Hogwarts is because I am headmaster. We will, however, be putting protections around the train just in case. Now about this break-in at the Ministry," he said, turning to Snape. "Do you know much about it?"
Snape nodded.
"Both the Dark Lord and his son were there," he replied. "They were the only ones that did not wear masks."
"Son?!" a good number of them squawked—not many people knew the true identity of Anata Blake.
Snape was quick to explain, much to the unease of the Weasleys.
"You don't think the twins were there?" Lupin asked.
"Surely not," Molly replied. "They are good boys—all of them!"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"We cannot be sure of anything," he said sadly.
"Yes," Mad-Eye Moody barked. "We should keep them under our watch just in case. I, for one, would like to know what they're doing right now…"
LINE-BREAK
Hermione came storming into the shop with a newspaper tucked under her arm. Harish, who was manning the counter at that time, glanced up at her and then resumed his work despite the fact that she was almost overflowing with rage.
"Shall I get Fred for you?" he asked calmly.
"No," she answered shortly, her voice cracking from strain. "You are just the person I wanted to see."
She slapped the newspaper onto the counter and Harish blinked down at it.
Emblazoned across the front page were the words, "Another Harry Potter Sighting: This Time at Hogsmeade."
Harish laughed, "Is that what this is about?"
"Stop laughing!" Hermione exclaimed. "This is serious! If you keep this up, someone will be bound to find out—"
"No one has," Harish interrupted her quietly. "And no one will, unless you continue shouting it for the whole world to hear." He peered over her shoulder at the customers in the shop. Then, he pulled out his clipboard and said, "Now if you are quite finished worrying needlessly about me, you may go."
Hermione snatched the Prophet back with a "hmph!" and stalked out of the room grumpily. The last thing she heard before the door slammed shut behind her was, "And if you see Neville, tell him I want to speak with him!"
LINE-BREAK
Neville blinked at Harish, his mind trying to process the older boy's words.
"Let me get this straight," he finally huffed. "You think that the sweetest woman in the Wizarding World is the head of a secret army that's been trying to get rid of both You-Know-Who and Dumbledore?"
Harish raised his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace.
"I'm not saying that she's necessarily in her right mind," he added.
Neville crossed his arms across his chest and grunted sarcastically, "Because that makes it all better."
"I just thought you ought to know," Harish said, standing. "You are her son, after all."
He made his way over to the stairwell that led down into their back room of the joke shop, but a voice halted him before he could make it descend.
"I can prove you're wrong."
Harish smirked, his body angled away from the younger boy. Without turning, he addressed Neville.
"Is that so…?"
LINE-BREAK
Alice Longbottom sat on her bed in a closed ward at St. Mungo's. The nurse was off somewhere, leaving her alone with Frank Longbottom, her husband (though she didn't quite remember), and another man named Gilderoy Lockhart. He was shielded from view by a set of curtains that surrounded both of the Longbottoms. Frank lay on the bed next to her, mouthing wordlessly at the ceiling.
The quiet monotony of hospital silence was broken as footsteps grew nearer. Accompanying them were voices, saying words that Alice could only just hear.
"When we get in there, I'll prove to you she's harmless…"
The voice warmed Alice, though she did not know why, and it sparked her memory. Brief flashes went through her mind of a boy that came to visit her and tell her stories.
"We can hope," came a new voice.
This one was cold, high-pitched, and calculating. At the sound of the second voice, Alice felt anger building inside her. Thoughts of her failure to eliminate Voldemort's son flitted through her mind.
Instantly, Alice switched back when the first one spoke again.
"What makes you so sure that you are correct?"
"I have my reasons."
All the while, the voices had been growing louder, the footsteps coming nearer. Just as Alice's mind became clear again at the sound of the second voice, the door opened and two people entered. The first had a young, round face and Alice vaguely recognized him as the boy that always visited her—her son, Neville Longbottom. The second was tall and darkly dressed. The hood of his ebony cloak hid most of his pale face.
A thick fog of fear and anger dominated Alice's mind as brief images of the war against Voldemort flitted through her mind.
"They did this to me…they will pay…"
LINE-BREAK
Harish failed to keep the disbelief off of his face as Neville prattled on. The eighteen-year-old followed the younger boy through the halls of St. Mungo's, only listening with half an ear. Finally, they made it to the proper ward, and Harish followed Neville inside, his pale green eyes taking in the room.
One person occupied the beds on the left. His bed was closest to the door, and he blinked at Harish with curious blue eyes. Then on the right side of the room, a face emerged from behind a screen. Her face was long, thin, and pale. Her hair was wispy and her mouth was thin. But there was a something about her that seemed off.
There was a darkness in her wild eyes that portrayed anger and…something more sinister. There was no doubt about it. This was Alice Longbottom.
"Hello mum," Neville said in a calm, quiet voice. "I brought a friend to meet you."
Harish stood warily, watching the batty old woman and clutching his cane very tightly. She stared for a minute, not saying a word. Her eyes watched her son warmly, but then, suddenly something flickered in them as they caught sight of Harish and her demeanour changed within seconds. Suddenly, she started muttering under her breath and her eyes went from Neville, to Harish, and back again in a never ending cycle. Then, her eyes came to a stop, staring at Harish for at least thirty seconds.
And she shouted out unexpectedly, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DIE?!"
Both Neville and Harish jumped back in shock and Neville's eyes widened as he realized that Harish was correct after all. His mother was not harmless, like he had been led to believe. Instead, she was violent and volatile. How had he not known? He had visited her often since the day she had been admitted to St. Mungo's, after all.
Harish's wand was out in a second and Neville reluctantly drew his own. Alice surprised them further by whipping out her own wand. Where she had gotten a wand from, and how she had kept it, Neville had no idea. He only knew that this was bad; Neville had heard many stories of the first war. Apparently his parents were among the best aurors, almost being as good as the likes of Mad-Eye Moody. It was not good at all that the ire of a once very talented auror was turned against them, no matter how insane she was.
Her being insane probably made it worse.
And it was for this reason that Harish and Neville were dodging spell after spell, each fired in rapid succession. Harish held his own, blocking spells with a shield that was powerful enough to send them bouncing back, and sending out a few of his own. Neville, however, was completely on the defensive, dodging and ducking under spells that came his way.
Finally, she tired herself a little and the fighting slowed enough to let Neville stand before her.
"Just stop!" he cried, blocking a spell. "You're going to hurt someone!"
Something changed in her eyes once again and the warm expression was back.
"Oh, Neville," she simpered. "I'm doing this for you."
Neville's eyes widened in shock. She had recognized him. She had even spoken his name. She cast another spell, which hit Harish by surprise, who was blasted back into the wall. Neville watched as his friend slumped to the floor, unconscious. Then, he turned back to his insane mother, who was advancing towards the Dark Lord's son.
She sent out another volley of spells, which Neville quickly blocked, darting between her and Harish. One of her spells went awry and blasted the curtains that hid her peaceable husband into the far wall, taking a few beds and potted plants with them. Poor Frank continued to stare at the ceiling, not even aware that a fight was going on in front of him. He had not even realized that the curtains had been inches away from tearing off his legs.
Neville turned back to his mother, panting heavily. He blocked more spells and the minute she slowed again, he shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
The power of his spell was so strong that not only did Alice's wand fly out of her hand, but she was also thrown into the wall and there was a sickening crack. Neville rushed over to her side.
"What have I done?" he asked.
"I-I'm sorry," Alice whispered, grabbing onto Neville's robes. "I f-failed."
And her eyes turned glassy as she breathed out her last.
Neville's eyes brimmed with tears, which soon poured down his face.
"I'm sorry too," he whispered.
There was a groan behind him and he turned to see Harish sit up slowly, rubbing his head. Harish took in his surroundings and walked slowly over to Neville.
"There's nothing more you can do," he said.
"It's all my fault," Neville sobbed as he was pulled to his feet.
"No," Harish said, leading him to the door of the ward. "It was self-defence. You can't blame yourself for that."
But Neville was too distraught to hear him.