Sunday morning was not at all pleasant for the Headmaster. Neither was the afternoon. In fact, the entire day could have been removed and Dumbledore would have been perfectly happy with that. And it was such a pity because he had been looking forward to a day when he wasn’t being surreptitiously hexed by his second-in-command.
His first inkling that the day wasn’t going to be sunshine and roses were the green flames appearing in his fireplace as he came down the stairs to his office for breakfast. Usually, he took his breakfasts and lunches in his office, reserving the dinner hour for his benevolent appearance in the Great Hall.
“Ah, Albus? Are you there?” came a hesitant voice.
Albus sighed. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Head of the British Ministry of Magic. A more incompetent, or corrupt, Minister would be difficult to find. At the time of his election, considering the splintered political climate, he was the only choice all sides could agree upon. All the other candidates gave too much power to one side or another. The only other candidate who could win was Albus himself, and he wanted no part of the tremendous time-suck that that position entailed. Nor the people he would have to deal with on a daily basis. Children were so much easier to control and steer to the proper way of thinking.
And he didn’t like the thought of being in such a position of power. The temptations to use that power were tremendous, and, without great effort, could easily slide into the realm of abuse of that power. It could lead to assuming that what he thought was the correct way was the only way, and not just ignoring dissent but treating it as a betrayal of trust. Yes, that path was fraught with perils for the weak-willed or timid.
Or even the strong-minded. As he had discovered, oh, so many years ago.
“Yes, Cornelius,” the old wizard said quietly to the head in his fireplace. “Did you want to come through? I was just about to have my breakfast. Would you care to join me?”
“Yes,” Minister Fudge said, “A cup of tea would be nice — I’ve already had my breakfast.”
Moments later, the two were sitting down to a table at one side of the office. The Minister sat down heavily into the chair across from the Headmaster and set his green bowler hat on the table beside his cup.
Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “What can I do for you, Cornelius?”
“I hadn’t even woken up properly before I started to receive floo-calls from some rather important members of our society,” the Minister started fussily, nervously tapping his hat’s brim with one finger.
Dumbledore nodded his understanding. All those owls last night had arrived at their destinations early this morning. It was too bad that he didn’t have time to prevent that exodus last night. Without sufficient preparation and adjustments to Hogwarts’ owl-enchantments, there was nothing he could do to prevent the events of the previous day from being disclosed by the students.
That meant that Lucius Malfoy had floo’d the Minister soon after his son’s owl had arrived. Lucius had been a former lieutenant in Voldemort’s Death Eater organization.
The Death Eaters had been a true terrorist group, in every meaning of the word. A more misguided, ruthless, murderous, and evil revolutionary faction would be difficult to find.
Today, though, Lucius was as a respectable citizen, patron of the arts, well-known charity sponsor, and leader of the ultra-conservative Dark political party in the Wizengamot. Which balanced nicely with the Light political party that Albus led. And left a moderately-sized group of Unaligned that the other two sides tried to sway to their way of thinking whenever anything in the Wizengamot came to a vote.
A nice stable system where nothing radical ever passed. Although Dumbledore did wish that he could pass several modifications to existing laws to ensure fairer treatment for new wizards and witches. And rescind several old laws that needlessly discriminated against other creatures in the Wizarding World. Plus, there were many laws that needed to be tweaked to remove old prejudices and allow more opportunities to muggle-born wizards and witches, while still giving some preference to pure-bloods and half-bloods.
And while there were rumours that he dabbled in the Dark Arts, and owned many Dark artefacts, the Headmaster was sure Lucius had turned over a new leaf and truly regretted the misguided deeds of his youth. Back then, Malfoy had believed that pure-blood wizards were naturally superior to all other creatures and should rule the world with an iron-hand. In his opinion, at that time, muggle-born wizards and witches should be exterminated at birth — the man had known nothing of either economics or breeding.
It was such a relief to Dumbledore to know that the opportunity he had offered ten years ago to Lucius to repent had born fruit. Oh, yes, Lucius had said he was under the influence of the imperious, but he never would have gained the status he had without a little subtle help from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. A bit of a reward for his reformation.
The wizard had reformed and now understood that there was a place in their society for the new wizards and witches. That they were needed to fill certain levels and positions in society, and to bring new blood, no pun intended, to the wizarding society. That remaining hidden from the muggle-society was the best course of action. That trying to rule the muggles would only end in disaster for everyone.
The Headmaster delicately took a bite of his toast while he waited patiently for Cornelius to continue.
“They are very concerned! They said that their children had sent them owls about necromancy at Hogwarts!” Fudge gave Albus an outraged look. “That some foreign students had performed a forbidden ritual and raised the dead! That, that . . . creature was now wandering the halls of the school, freely, a menace to wizards and witches alike!”
Dumbledore swallowed his bite, “Why, yes, Cornelius, the Gryffindor First Years — together, as a group — did perform what some might term a necromantic ritual. However, it was not a forbidden ritual. Necromancy itself is not illegal, as you know. The Old Laws expressly allow the study of such things, despite my attempts to make it otherwise. And Mr. Malfoy believes quite firmly that we should keep the Old Laws as they are.” He looked at the Minister, eyes twinkling, knowing he had deflected the other wizard’s attention from the Atlanteans.
The Minister had a confused look. He didn’t know whether to be scared at the confirmation of the “rumours,” outraged that the ritual was not forbidden, or worried at what his largest monetary patron might say upon hearing that he, as the Minister, had decried an activity his patron supported. Plus, if his patron supported the Old Laws, why had he complained to Fudge about what the students had done?
The older wizard took another bite, chewed, and swallowed it. “Under the Old Laws, as they stand now, it is forbidden to use a ritual to deliberately create a banshee, draugr, ghost, ghoul, inferi, jiangshi, lich, mummy, phantom, poltergeist, revenant, shadow person, skeleton, spectre, vampire, wight, wraith, or zombie.” He took another bite and chewed as he raised his eyebrows at the Minister. His eyes were twinkling, he knew.
Fudge tapped on finger on the brim of his hat, and looked around the office. He took a sip of his tea. His hand shook. “And what did these . . . Gryffindor students do?” he finally asked.
The Headmaster swallowed his bite, “Do you remember a Miss Myrtle Warren, from your days at Hogwarts?”
Surprised at the non-sequitur, the Minister of Magic frowned. After a moment, he said, “No, can’t say that I do. What does that person have to do with this?”
“Perhaps you might remember her as ‘Moaning Myrtle’?” gently prompted the Headmaster.
The frown deepened a moment, then Fudge said, surprised, “Oh, do you mean that horrid ghost in the witches’ toilets on the second floor?”
“Yes. Miss Warren has been returned to the land of the living by a previously unknown ritual, one which requires the presence of unicorns, and freely-given blood during the ritual from a unicorn.” Dumbledore looked at the other wizard over his glasses. “And you know unicorns cannot abide by anything tainted by evil, or are impure in any manner, correct?” He smiled at the stunned Minister. “I performed more than a few magical scans searching for anything that might indicate she wasn’t what she appeared as — a normal fourteen-year-old witch with a severe case of acne. They all came up negative.” He continued to smile reassuringly as he added, “An Unspeakable came over yesterday and gave her a clean bill of health.” He chuckled lightly, “At least psychically clean, that is. Madam Pomfrey already certified the young witch as being in perfect health. Except for a case of acne.”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “She is not a banshee, draugr, ghost, ghoul, inferi, jiangshi, lich, mummy, phantom, poltergeist, revenant, shadow person, skeleton, spectre, vampire, wight, wraith, or zombie. What she is, is a friendless, dejected, lonely, lost little girl whose parents have passed on and her siblings, and the rest of her muggle relatives, do not remember her.”
۸- ̫ -۸
Myrtle was, at that moment, laughing uproariously at the red-faced reaction of the wizard she just had been flirting with — she had learned a lot about wizard and witch relationships over the last forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days. And anxiously awaited her first opportunity to put some of the more physical of those lessons into practice, as she didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen. She only had to wait a few more days. Yes, there were a lot of things she knew about wizard and witch relationships that she could barely wait to experience for herself.
The young wizard’s girlfriend was dragging him away by the hand while giving Myrtle a dagger-laced look that didn’t terrify the newly-reborn witch in the slightest. One of Myrtle's new dorm-mates, a younger witch, was giggling at her side.
The twins had changed their betting from when Myrtle would get laid, and with whom, to include how many wizards she would go through before the year was over! They even had a side-bet on how many couples would break-up over her. And if she would pursue any multiple encounters.
Harry could only shake his head at their antics. And he had thought the Cutie Mark Crusaders were difficult to handle. Although he shuddered to think what those three would be like in a couple of years when stallions drew their attention. And he did hope he wouldn’t lose them as friends.
۸- ̬ -۸
Fudge leaned back in his chair. “They brought a ghost back to life?”
The old wizard nodded. “The ritual is of minor use, however. It restores the individual to the moments before the ghost was created, a minute or two at the most.”
He shook his head sadly. “Few deaths are instantaneous, you know. Thus, if the person died moments after a stab to the heart, then that is what he will be restored as, someone with a stab wound in the heart just moments from death. A medical professional might save a poisoning victim, if he is there with the proper antidote and he acts quickly enough. The same could be said for drowning victims. But those who died from violence or old age will find the ritual of no use.” He paused in thought. “It might be of use in those cases where someone was hit with the avada kedavra curse, however.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, I shall suggest that to Madam Bones.”
The Minster paled at the thought of that dreaded curse. He took a sip of his tea, his hand still shaking slightly. “And an Unspeakable examined her?”
“Yes. His exact words, after all the scans he made, were, ‘She’s just a girl. Pity, that.’” The Headmaster chuckled. “I do believe he was hoping for something a bit more exciting.”
Fudge took another sip of his tea, somewhat calmer, now, and sat thinking for a few moments.
“And what is this I hear that most of the Gryffindor First Years are animagi?”
Albus smiled. “Actually, it’s just seven of the fourteen Gryffindors, five witches and two wizards. There are the three foreigners, of course, Misses Belle, Aloo, and Bloom. Then there are the two Weasley children, Mr. Ronald and Miss Ginerva Weasley. Then there is a muggle-born, Miss Granger, and, finally, Harry Potter.” He smiled smugly at seeing the Minister’s stunned reaction. “Yes, I do believe this sets a record for Hogwarts. Never have there been that many confirmed animagi in Hogwarts, much less in a single House. In fact, they alone double the number of known animagi in the last century.” He took a sip of tea to hide his smirk at getting into the record books, again. “And to be First Years, all, is indeed an accomplishment we shan’t see repeated anytime soon.”
“In addition, Mr. Potter, and Misses Belle and Granger, are unicorn animagi. Misses Weasley and Aloo are pegasi, and Mr. Weasley and Miss Bloom are what they call earth-ponies.”
Fudge sat silent, eyes wide, too surprised to say anything. “Harry Potter is a unicorn?” he finally squeaked out.
Dumbledore nodded. “And the Weasley family has three other children who are animagi. The twins, George and Fred are unicorns, and Percy is an earth pony. And their mother recently mastered the ability and is a pegasus.”
Eye’s twinkling, he added, “Plus, Mr. Wood and Misses Johnson, and Spinnet, also of Gryffindor, are pegasi.” He relished the look of shock on the other wizard’s face.
The Headmaster could see the Minister mulling over the revelations. He was paying more attention, Dumbledore was sure, to the previous list of pony animagi than the last four mentioned. He idly wondered when the wizard would realize that Gryffindor House had thirteen students who had mastered the difficult art of becoming animagi — almost five percent of the House. And almost double the number of registered animagi. A record he was sure would stand for many centuries. He finished off the last of his breakfast.
Fudge, he knew, was focusing on something else entirely.
The Weasley family, while an old pure-blood family with more than a little political influence, was a bit of a laughing stock to the other pure-blood families. The Weasleys’ poverty and liberal pro-muggle, pro-muggle-born stance had kept them low on the social scale. Their principled stands on Light issues were well-reasoned to many, even though the others might disagree on details. Everyone knew that the Weasleys, when they took a stand, did so out of convictions and not because someone had bought, bribed, or traded with them to get their support.
Not all, though, thought that standing on one’s principles when one wasn’t supporting the Dark agenda was a noble idea. They regarded such stances as traitorous.
Many Dark-leaning families laughed at the Weasleys’ many children and ridiculed them behind their backs. They openly called them blood-traitors for their support of muggles and muggle-borns. And considered their poverty to be well-earned.
That both Arthur and Molly were personally well-liked among the other pure- and half-blood families was of little consequence to the Dark leaning families. They only cared about the “pure” families that stayed true to their obvious moral and magical superiority to the other wizards and witches, not to mention, shudder, the muggles.
However, having five of the Weasleys’ seven children become animagi while still in Hogwarts was astounding. Having two of them become animagi even before starting Hogwarts meant the family was magically very powerful. Everyone knew it took years of study and careful instruction to accomplish such a feat — and usually only succeeded when the wizards or witches were adults. A long, time-consuming process that most wizards and witches considered not worth their time.
And yet, the Weasley children had done it before leaving Hogwarts! And this accomplishment was despite the family’s Head of House’s clearly pedestrian magical abilities! So much apparent magical ability in one family moved them far up the social ladder as desirable spouses. He wondered how long it would take for the news to spread that Molly, their mother, was also an animagi. He wondered if Harry and his girlfriends could teach that skill to Arthur.
If you’re smart, with a bit of luck you can make yourself wealthy. But, no matter how smart you are, you can only increase your magical legacy by marrying into it. And wizards admired magical prowess more than money. As a result, whether or not you were a pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born made no difference — magical power trumped all. Which, in turn, once the word got out, made the Weasleys even more politically influential than before, especially when you considered their blood status.
More than a few would follow whatever Arthur suggested politically in the hopes of winning one of his children as a spouse for their children. Or, if they were playing the long game and willing to wait to see if this generation was just a fluke, one of their grandchildren. Plus, when the word got out that the saviour of the magical world, Harry Potter, was a good friend of the family . . . .
Albus looked out the windows of his office and smiled. He could foresee a pay-raise in the offering for Arthur in the near future, as Fudge tried to buy his loyalty in the Ministry. He expected that Percy and the twins might soon be receiving some attention from the old-family witches who before now had ignored them as “poor” choices for a husband. Each offering a generous dowry to entice their prospective husband.
In a year, perhaps only a few months if the Weasley parents could be convinced to accept a marriage contract, or their sons were enamoured of the witch being offered by her parents, the Weasleys would be poor no more.
“Well,” said Fudge as he stood and picked up his hat. “I’ll be sure to pass the word to those that matter that the rumours are wrong, then. That there were no forbidden rituals and that the Unspeakables have already concluded their investigation into the matter. What an extraordinary achievement, bringing a ghost back to life.” He flashed a fake smile at the Headmaster. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I must get back to the office now, much to do, you know. So many details to governing properly!”
The Headmaster knew that most Sundays Fudge spent his day lazing at home. This Sunday, however, he would spend talking with his sponsors, discussing how they could turn the upheavals to come in the political landscape to their advantage.
He wondered how long it would take for the Minister to hear about the phoenix that was now accompanying Harry Potter.
No sooner had the irksome Minister disappeared into the floo then it once again flashed green. “Headmaster?” came the imperious and easily recognizable voice of Thomas Bulstrode, “May I come through?”
Albus sighed. “Yes, of course.” The Bulstrode’s were an old, pure-blood family going back to before the founding of the Wizengamot. And while not Dark, they supported many of the bills proposed by the Dark faction in the Wizengamot, while voting against many of the bills the Light-side put forth to moderate the political climate.
Moments later, the wizard settled into an armchair and said, “Millicent sent me an owl last night about some foreigners using a necromantic ritual to return a ghost to life.” He frowned darkly. “What are you teaching in this school, now days? And who are these foreigners?”
Simultaneously, the floo again flared green and the aristocratic voice of August Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother, came through. “Headmaster Dumbledore, are you there?”
Dumbledore sighed again. It was going to be a long day.
۸-ꞈ-۸
Harry thought the morning was going rather well. Myrtle was clearly having fun with her House-mates, gauging by her laughter and the giggles coming from some of the others whenever he saw her, either inside or outside the castle. The fillies, and the other Gryffindor First Year girls, had quite enjoyed their time with her in the hot tub last night, he had learned this morning.
They had apparently spent most of the evening talking . . . gossiping . . . about her experiences as a ghost. Lavender and Parvati had been especially interested in the stories the ghost had to tell about the events and couples she had spied on over the years, and especially any gossip covering the previous week of school. Hermione had been disapproving of the subject matter, frequently steering the topics — interrupting, Lavender and Parvati had insisted — to what magic the ghost had seen and the things she had learned.
Myrtle had bragged that no one alive knew the castle as thoroughly as she did! “Not even the twins,” she had gigglingly added. She had promised to show the Gryffindors some of the secrets, to the fillies delight and Hermione’s frowned worry when she told this to Harry.
After breakfast, the Ravenclaws let it be known that they wanted a quidditch re-match. This time, the pegasi released a snitch, just to give the Ravenclaws a chance at winning the game. It was more like dangling a hope just out of their reach.
The game ended shortly before lunch. The Ravenclaws had once more received a severe thrashing — by the time the snitch had appeared, the pegasi had a huge lead.
The Gryffindor Firsties were starting back to the castle when Harry stopped. He looked at Apple Bloom, and asked, “Have you tried casting a spell as a pony, yet?”
She looked at him, puzzled. “I’m not a unicorn.”
Ron, Ginny, and Scootaloo watched quietly.
“No, I mean, with your wand.”
She looked at him a moment, frowning. Then she shrugged, “Okay.” She pulled her wand from its holster, getting admiring glances from those students who only had pockets in their robes for a wand.
She handed it to Harry, then turned into a pony. He held it out to her and she took it in her mouth. She frowned a moment and mumbled lumos. Her eyes got wide as she saw the tip of her wand glow. A quick nox put it out.
She shot out red and then green sparks, and started jumping up and down, crying out, “It works, it works!”
In a matter of moments, Ron, Ginny, and Scootaloo were duplicating her efforts and soon were firing stinging hexes at each other, dodging, running, and, in Scootaloo’s case, trying to strafe the others while flying.
The other students watched, astonished. Professor McGonagall had never mentioned this possibility for an animagus!
Once again, the antics of the Gryffindor First Years were the centre of all conversation in the Great Hall during lunch, even at the Headmaster’s Table, although the Headmaster himself was absent. Harry was positive that their Head of House was going to be spending at least a few minutes later this afternoon testing to see if her cat animagus could cast spells using her wand. Or maybe immediately after lunch.
Professor Quirrell listened attentively, and, when asked, merely offered that if anyone else had made that discover, they had kept it a secret. His stutter had made for a needlessly long wait for his complete answer.
Professor McGonagall had said, “The animagus transformation takes everything the wizard or witch holds into the magic — which is why an animagus transformation doesn’t leave a pile of clothes behind, unless you’re rather careless or dangerously distracted. And as no one wants to be without their wand, no one has experimented with leaving their wand behind during a transformation. Making things more challenging, most animals are incapable of speech, and non-verbal spell casting is difficult for many wizards and witches. That would discourage the very few wizards and witches that might have been interested in using their wands in that manner.
“Not to mention,” she had drily added, “that carrying their wand as an animagus would have been a problem. Especially for those whose animagus might have been a bird, reptile, or other small animal.”
The Equestrians had looked at each other and quietly laughed. Ponies didn’t have the vocal limitation, and they had created saddlebags an extremely long, long time ago. Small animals might have difficulty carrying a wand, but larger ones certainly didn’t. Especially if they had bags or harnesses that could be fitted. And with the possibility of having a small wand holster to carry the wand on a leg while a pony . . . .
۸- ̬ -۸