HPNS - Chapter 13

Read Chapter 12 here or start at the beginning


HAVOC AND HAVEN

The cold December frost whistled with the wind that blew over a cozy wizarding neighborhood. An ornate wrought iron gate kept the sleeping families secluded from Muggles, Dark wizards and intruders. It was a Sunday morning and induced from being overworked and harried throughout the week, the inhabitants enjoyed a lie in. Their magically warm houses were arranged in the shape of an irregular island comprising forty families. A lonely owl, white as the snow around it, whizzed by with a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak, over the magnificent gate that said Ampedocles Arc

The owl kept flying in search of the chimney that was to be its destination. It flew well, despite the chilly wind and the weight of the heavy newspaper that occasionally squeaked the headline in a bossy female’s voice as though it couldn’t contain what had to be told. For a moment it circled the target chimney that was distinct with its oblong grey tiles, intricately woven with moss and white powdery snow. It was the only chimney in the neighborhood that spewed grey smoke, indicating that its occupants were the only ones awake. Choosing to detour towards the window instead, the white owl dropped its ‘noisy’ burden at a large glass window that had the curtains shut, blocking out the pristine winter morning.

A face with green eyes answered the owl’s agitated knocking only to expose the window for a second and to slam it shut no sooner than it flew inside.

Harry trembled a little from the wind that had fought its way through, and placed Hedwig into its cage.

The owl got comfortable as it was to spend a considerable time within the cage thereafter… it was no longer allowed the freedom it once enjoyed. The silence of the lighted alcove was disturbed by its two recent visitors- Hedwig flapping his frosted wings in the cage and the muffled tirade of the female voice on the newspaper. Harry slowly unfurled the pages, shook the dew out of them and read the headlines.

AUROR HORROR

REVELATIONS AGAINST THE DEPARTMENT THAT ‘CLAIMS’ TO SERVE MAGICAL DEFENSE

RITA SKEETER

The savage assault and murder of the McFadden family in September has now recently been discovered as the tragic result of a bungle by Trainee Aurors who were sent without preparation to rescue the aforementioned. Widely publicized as an attack by Death Eaters, no less than twenty in number and by Giants, the actual facts about this unforgettable tragedy have been excavated through a sting operation that took place yesterday at the Auror office. Meredith Dwindle, Head of Department of Magical Defense whose conversation with Undersecretary John Travers was recorded by scorpion detectors (permission of usage was prior obtained) comprised the explanation for the mysteriously hushed up events of the evening.

At precisely 2100 hours on the 23^rd of September, Kevin McFadden of the Department of Law Enforcement and his family were invaded in their home by Death Eaters whose number has been confirmed as only, five. An emergency call was intercepted at the Auror office at 2120 hours and without realizing the rank and importance of the victim in question, a pair of under-trained and incompetent Trainee Aurors was dispatched for the rescue mission. In the course of their discussion, Dwindle happened to mention the names of these persons as- Sam Whittaker and Ronald Weasley. Sam Whittaker was recently admitted at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries after succumbing to a rare and fatal hex. Ronald Weasley however managed to escape without infirmity, and evidently without any concern for rescuing the victims he had been assigned. The above Trainee Aurors managed to communicate a Red Alert on being unsuccessful with the mission, but their call was apparently unheeded and no reinforcements were sent. It was only at 2300 hours that a group of Hit Wizards patrolling the high security area discovered the Dark Mark, the bodies and the two unconscious Aurors.

Ronald Weasley's exploits as a reckless Auror have been noticed and questioned. Within just a year of his appointment as Trainee, he has dabbled under unassigned areas and projects that have previously although yielded satisfactory results. His name was involved in the capture of Death Eater Walden Macnair and of the infamous werewolf Fenrir Greyback. However glorious his achievements might have been embellished as in previous reports, it is not to be ignored that his position in the Auror office requires enquiry. Obviously Weasley Jr. is bent on following his own father’s patchy performance at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office these 27 years.

One may question his inexplicable access and convenient encounters with wanted Death Eaters. I might venture to say that our little hero had a dark edge, which springs undoubtedly from his long association with classmate at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- Harry Potter. This friendship has been called a rather ‘suspiciously clandestine brotherhood’ by Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, but I would venture to call it rather ‘pig-headed’.

Although “The Chosen One’s” whereabouts are currently secret, wizards in Paris claim to have seen a robed young man with dark hair, spectacles and green eyes eating in a French restaurant. No doubt, our prescribed saviour is taking a vacation from his duties in the romantic weather of France.

Returning to the investigation of the Auror department, the new practice of handing out bonuses to under-practiced Aurors has met with severe criticism. A trend has emerged where more people are being arrested for crimes they did not commit, and money is being unnecessarily diverted from the Ministry’s funds.

Perhaps, we must refrain from placing too much trust in whom we believed to be our ‘defenders’ and to reclaim them from their pedestal.

On the same page, barely visible beneath the blaring article, Harry’s eyes fell upon a promotional advertisement for the Society for Promotion of Elfish Welfare. It caused him to laugh despite himself. Hermione was certainly competing hard against all odds. She had asked Harry in her previous letter if she could use Dobby and Kreacher in her campaign, but Harry had refused for the moment. He thought the two elves shouldn’t attract too much attention, especially when Voldemort knew well enough how close they were to him.

Returning to the assailant article, Harry wondered whether he hated Voldemort or Rita Skeeter more at the moment. Perusing it again, the thoughts that filled his brain were numerous-

What would Ron have to say?

What would Hermione’s reaction be to Ron’s ignominy, especially after she hadn’t been speaking to him after the Esmè episode and had forbidden Rita Skeeter to publish for the Prophet?

Would Esmè leave Ron to save her skin?

How would all of the Weasley’s react?

Why was his own name dragged into every little mishap?

Who were those gits who ‘apparently’ saw him in Paris?

What would become of the activities of the Order of the Phoenix after this pin-pointing article?

What would become of the Auror Department?

Would Ron be fired?

Or would he be convicted for the brutal murder of Rita Skeeter that he was likely to perform soon after he would hear of this?

Before Harry could quite collect his wandering mind from all those indignant questions, he heard Tonks’ voice from below, calling him for breakfast.

He sped down the stairs to find a rancid smoke issuing from the tiny kitchen. The substance was so thick and foul-smelling that it reminded Harry of the buffet displayed at Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday Party. With much coughing and retching, he thrust himself into the smoke and saw a rather remarkable sight. Nymphadora Tonks had balanced herself over the high kitchen counter to get a better view of the gurgling contents of her cauldron.

He had in fact stopped within a few inches from her jutting rear as she poured over her broth without noticing him. He saw clearly the gilded design on the back pocket of her jeans that curved into the following slogan-

Bite me R.L

“Wotcher Harry! Great morning to walk into a woman’s butt, don’t you think?” Tonks turned around suddenly and chirped.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t see…” Harry trembled, conscious of the rising heat under his collar and of his impudence.

“Don’t bother! I knew it wasn’t Remus, he flips every time he sees me wearing these pants. But Fred Weasley dared me to parade them in front of him for a week and I couldn’t resist. The week’s over but they’re just so adorable!”

Harry took refuge in her usually perky mood to stem the tide of embarrassment. He was always amused by the graffiti on most of Tonks’ apparel that he had seen so far. She was going along the line of the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and sometimes even got out of the house in shirts that were splashed with quotes like “Dork Lord” or “He who must not be snogged” and even the more daring, “Riddle me this!”

“What on earth are you making for breakfast Tonks?” Harry asked, his mind completely cleared of the offensive article that he had just read.

“Just experimenting with oatmeal. I think I let it mull over for too long…” she answered, now emptying the meal into the magical trash dispenser.

“Ah, I was sure there was something edible there” Harry snorted, while helping himself into some biscuits on the table”

“Live with it before it goes down your throat Potter!” she replied childishly grinning over her heart-shaped face, and waved slices of bread over to toast.

“Where’s Remus?” Harry asked, clearing away scattered crumbs.

“Was that your owl coming in upstairs before?” was Tonks’ counter question.

“Yeah, Hedwig just brought in a copy of the Prophet”

The pair of amethyst eyes beneath her bubble gum hair glinted with churlish warmth. She fingered the metal crucifix at her throat and remarked with nonchalance, “So-o-o the Chosen One’s not quite romancing French chics in Paris, as it would seem to others”

Harry was spared a retort with Lupin’s entry into the smoggy kitchen.

"That’s no way to speak to Harry” he said firmly at Tonks who was prancing about the room in what she believed to be, an impersonation of a French ballerina. Harry was forcibly reminded of Ginny, but laughed nevertheless.

“Oh go home Grandpa!” Tonks yelled back, but no later flung her broth-soiled arms around Lupin’s neck. Lupin blushed uncomfortably all over his neck and face and pushed her away gently, “I’d rather you threw a saucepan at me”

Harry observed the pallid lineament and gathered that Lupin had just walked in from the snow outside. Shivering slightly, he walked up to the crackling fire of the cauldron, warmed himself and said gravely “You shouldn’t be so easy about this Dora. If Rita Skeeter used scorpion detectors at the Auror office, there’s no knowing what she’ll do next. I’d be worried about my job if I were you”

“But seeing as you’re my lovable werewolf-cum househusband, I’d worry about ever having a job if I were you!” Tonks replied playfully, tossing poached eggs onto three plates. Lupin flinched but made no reply.

Harry did not feel an intruder in the happiness of the couple, but had not gotten over his astonishment at what he thought were an improbable couple. There was something very impertinent and endearing in Tonks’ treatment and Lupin undoubtedly cared and protected for her intensely. More than anything, Harry was happy that Lupin’s surroundings had been infused with vigour and happiness that showed on his otherwise worn face. It might seem as if he treated Tonks with more paternalism than attraction, but Harry knew that Tonks could be serious when she wanted to and was an extremely gifted witch.

While the three ingested their breakfast, Tonks abused Rita Skeeter to what Harry would have attributed the appropriate acuteness, and Lupin continually expressed anxiety for the Ministry’s interference and for Ron’s career. Harry felt quite happy at 33, Ampedocles Arc even though he was no longer searching for the next horcrux at the moment or hiding. He had been there for almost a week now at Lupin’s request and Tonks had complied most readily.

“Remus, I don’t think you know but Hermione found out in our fourth year that Rita Skeeter is an unregistered animagus”, Harry revealed through a full mouth.

“Hold your Hippogriffs! What does she turn into, that old bat!” Tonks exclaimed.

But Lupin looked rather severe, the lines deepening at his brow and said thoughtfully as he chewed, “That’s grave indeed. If it weren’t for my conscience I would say she should be exposed. But then I prompted three unregistered animagi and have no right to judge her”

“Hermione had warned her that she would expose her if she wrote any more for the Prophet. I wonder when she got back” Harry replied

Tonks continued interestedly, “You don’t suppose Death eaters are bribing her to print against the Auror department? I say Harry, what does she turn into?”

“A beetle”

“Well that’s what’s expected. Downright pest of a woman she is!” bits of egg flew off Tonks’ fork as she waved it angrily, "she deserves to be squashed under one foot!"

“I think you may have something in that Dora. Death Eaters are probably protecting her, because the Ministry wouldn’t permit the publishing of such an article against their credit.”

“What the devil would Voldemort want with Rita Skeeter?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Amen to that Harry, but then Voldie hasn’t always made the right decisions and moves eh? Else you wouldn’t be here eating my sorry eggs for breakfast today”, Tonks said with a wink.

“Nevertheless I’d better alert the Order for an investigation” Lupin said rising between his meal.

“You’ll stay where you are Mr. Fangs. I won’t have people leaving my table without finishing their food. It’s terrible etiquette!” Tonks exclaimed as though she were the Queen of England at etiquette. Lupin however gave her one of his rare, full smiles and continued to eat silently.

Quarter of an hour later, Harry and Lupin left the room to allow Tonks with her weekend house cleaning and dish washing. She had the Witches Wireless switched on at high pitch and was jiving to the lively beats while she stood on the counter once more with an apron that read “Kiss the Cook”. Her wand waved ominously over the laundry and dishes and she swirled like a Venomous Tentacula with her pink hair tossing madly.

Tearing his eyes away from this spectacle, Harry followed into the living room where Lupin already sat with the fire reflecting in his eyes. For a moment they remained silent as Lupin seemed abashed at the concerto in the kitchen. But it seemed that Harry had wrongly calculated is thoughts as Lupin said quietly, “Have you thought about protecting yourself better Harry, like your parents?”

Taken aback Harry replied, “I suppose you mean the Fidelius Charm”

“Something better if not that” Lupin said, poking the hot coals of the fire with his wand, “of course if you want to use the Fidelius, you’ll need a Secret Keeper”

Harry understood the trajectory that the conversation would take and quickly said, “I’m not here to make the same mistakes as my parents!”

“I thought you would say that, but to my knowledge there is no charm more effective at concealment. Your parents made the mistake of switching their Secret Keeper at the last moment. You must not shift the entire blame on the charm for that”

Harry felt angry, “I don’t care about that! I refuse to put my best friends in any more danger than they’re already in! I can’t take it if more people die for me!” he said sharply and stood as rigid as a stone before Lupin.

“I would be happy to be your Secret Keeper, Harry. I owe it to your father and mother and my life’s not worth a knut” was Lupin’s stern but remorseful reply.

“I don’t think Tonks… I mean Dora would agree to that” Harry retorted hotly, “she obviously loves you so why don’t you give her enough faith and credit for that?”

No sooner had he said it, did Harry repent it because he saw Lupin startle with a dangerous flash in his eyes. But then he sunk again into his armchair and said composedly, “I asked her to marry me”

***

Ron opened his eyes to the sunlight that filtered into his bedroom. The place looked as clean as Hermione’s apartment in just a week. Still sleepy, he yawned widely and shifted his position only to find that his leg brushed against something warm and soft. He turned on his side to gaze at the creature that lay beside him, the sinuous body of a tall dark nymph. And with the suddenness of a curse came a huge wave of nausea and migraine crashing down upon him. He slid out of the bed and his naked foot rolled over a large empty bottle that he remembered as Firewhiskey. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he sank on the seat of the cistern with his hair in his hands. Recalling that it was a Sunday, and he wouldn’t have to throw himself out of his apartment for work, he decided to get back into bed to avoid facing the impending hangover. But overcome by the tide of fatigue, he rolled into sleep as he sat on the cistern, his hands sliding off from the knees. He sat with his face buried in his thigh like an absurd Moaning Myrtle, unaware of the damage that lay rolled up innocently at his snow covered doorstep.

Read Chapter 14- THE WEASLEY SITZKRIEG here