Respect For the Elders
September 5th turned out to be just as, if not more, rainy and misty as September 4th. But with that disastrous Monday night, the boys of the Quartet decided their friend Hermione needed a a birthday party to make up for it and so it was that Harry and Ron headed straight to the twins during break between Charms and Transfiguration, finding them bugging a group of first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs to test their new products.
“She really deserves it, guys.” Ron said to the two gingers, who were folding their arms and nodding along with stern expressions. “She’s been going through a rough patch for a while now, I don’t feel--we don’t feel like we appreciate her enough.”
“Just try to pull something together, alright? It doesn’t have to be big, I’m sure she’d prefer small, but make it special. Please?” Fred and George gave each other a curt nod then asked, in unison, “When’s her birthday?”
“September 19th,” The two boys responded, in unison, and the twins grinned. “We’ll be ready.”
With that settled the two could continue the day on an easier conscience and Harry was left feeling lonely with no Draco by his side in any of his classes, which was especially hard hitting during Transfiguration, since sharing it with him last year had led to many fun memories McGonagall most definitely needed a pensieve to forget. They were so close too, the double periods having swapped on Tuesday, with Draco having Transfiguration just the period before with the Ravenclaws and then Charms alone while Harry and the other Gryffindors got Charms with the Hufflepuffs then Transfiguration alone. It was during Charms class he got to hear from Ernie Macmillan how Draco had talked Professor Umbridge down the previous day, which cleared his spirits briefly with the prospect that he could make a statement against her without getting handed a detention.
Though he found his head a pounding mess of confused relief and stress when all these things came together as one, and couldn't even relax for a simple lunch has Ron insisted on dragging him to the library to look up the properties and uses of moonstones, Draco and Hermione being stuck trying to work out their Arithmancy homework together and not able or willing to help them. Even when the two finally did come to find them in the library, Draco proclaimed he wanted to write a letter to Percy questioning the situation with Fudge and Umbridge's true purpose here, so Harry got to add overwhelment with his homework to the list of things plaguing his mind.
"The fate of the Wizarding World," Draco said as the group walked across the grounds to Care of Magical Creatures after perfecting and sealing up the letter. "Is far more important than our homework assignments, don't you think?"
"No." Ron said rather bluntly, and honestly, before recoiling and sticking out his tongue as if he's just tasted something very vile. "Ugh, I'm starting to sound like you." He said, nodding to Hermione who only shook her head. "Good. Maybe then you'll start seeing sense, maybe even help out with S.P.E.W!" Ron looked very much as if that would be the last thing he'd be doing even if it meant he'd be killed.
"You're still on S.P.E.W are you? Made any progress?" Hermione beamed proudly towards Draco. “Actually I have! I've started laying out hats around the Gryffindor Common Room for them to find, so they'll just have to be freed now. And some are even missing already! Isn't that wonderful?" But Draco had gone rather pale and was frowning worriedly.
"Don't you think… that's a bit extreme? I mean, say you do free them all, what’s left for them to do? Look at Winky, one, she didn’t want to be freed because she’s been brainwashed to believe being enslaved is all she’s good for, and two, she lives in a society that still sees and will always see her as inferior, and would never hire her if it meant they had to pay her legally. Did you think any of that through?”
Hermione stopped short. Harry knew, from all the previous times he’s tried to bring up Draco’s eagerness to give the House Elves rights due to his questionable past, that she seriously doubted him to have any good ideas. So now, no doubt, her mind had to be flooding with realizations that he was, indeed, dedicated to their right not unlike she was, and did have good intentions and ideas.
“No… No I suppose I didn’t…”
They made their way down to Hagrid’s cabin silently after that, coming to stand with the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered around a table laden with something that looked like twigs, and awaiting instructions from Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was just finishing putting on her tight leather gloves.
“Everyone here? Good. Can anyone tell me what these creatures are?” The Professor barked out, gesturing to the heap of twigs, and instantly, Hermione’s hand shot in the air, ‘accidently’ knocking down Draco’s as it attempted to rise as well. He winced and glared at her, the two unfazed, unlike the rest of the class and notably Pansy, who gave a high pitched scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and formed into what looked like tiny pixie-ish creatures made of wood, complete with arms legs, and even fingers and beetle-brown eyes.
Though Pansy was still recoiling in horror, Parvati and Lavender leaned closer and ‘ooed’ and ‘awed’ at the twig-like pixies.
“Kindly keep your voices down, girls! So--anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?”
“Bowtruckles,” said Hermione. “They’re tree-guardians, usually living in wand-trees.” Professor Grubbly-Plank nodded as she finished sprinkling what looked like grains of rice out to the ‘Bowtruckles’ for food and brushed her hands. “Five points for Gryffindor,” she said. “Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”
“Woodlice,” said Hermione promptly, even though Draco had already risen his hand, but Professor Grubbly-Plank was nice enough to nod at him and so he rose his chin and said, “They also eat fair eggs and treat them as a delicacy, for they are very hard to find, due to fairies becoming endangered in the wand trees they thrive in, because of muggle activities.” He gave Hermione a sickening smirk as Professor Grubbly-Plank grinned and said, “That’s correct! Five points to Slytherin.” She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Anyone would know that if they did the summer reading…”
“So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you’d like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle--I have enough here for one between three--you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with body-parts labeled by the end of the lesson.”
The class all approached the table at once, Harry going straight to Professor Grubbly-Plank to ask for Hagrid and getting much the same response as he did last time Hagrid failed to turn up for a class--nothing--while Draco playfully elbowed Ron out of the way of grabbing the largest bowtruckle. The Quartet then found a patch of grass to settle on and drew out parchment and quill, beginning to try and settle down their pair of Bowtruckles long enough to draw it.
Draco and Hermione, when combining what they remembered from the reading instead of squabbling--at Ron’s insistence after the Bowtruckle nearly sliced off his pinky--finally figured out a way of calming it by stroking a crevice in it’s back, and for the rest of the period the group sat in silence while sketching the thing, occasionally cracking up at watching Pansy get tormented by her Bowtruckle and Crabbe and Goyle purposefully further scaring her with theirs.
By the time class had ended, Harry’s spirits only settled back into their conflicted mesh of fog on his brain when he handed his sketch to Professor Grubbly-Plank, and remembered Hagrid’s absence, feeling the thunder in his heart return.
-*-*-*-
“How is it you're always here before the rest of the school?” Draco asked the Gryffindor trio as he took a seat across from the three and dropped his bag on the bench, shoveling shepards pie onto his plate promptly because Harry was already drinking down the last of his pumpkin juice. “And finished eating too! Where are you even off to? Have a date already? Cho can’t have broken up with Cedric this soon…”
“No but she’s planning to.” He turned around sharply in surprise as Ginny dropped down beside him. “Luna was telling me in Herbology how she’d overheard her lamenting to Marietta Edgecombe during lunch.” The redhead fixed Harry with a stare now, looking a little regrettable about her own words even as she said them. “She was going to tell you when she saw you after class, remember? But Ernie Macmillan was coming and she said he looked like he had much more important business.”
Draco shook his head, digging a fork into his pie. “How can word possibly travel so fast around this school?” He shoved the food on his fork into his mouth then pointed the golden utensil at the trio across from him. “Surely the things I was saying about you didn’t spread that fast.” The three looked at each other then back at him and winced. “Oh it did.” Ron said, and Hermione shrugged, “Water under the bridge now, don’t worry.” But Draco wasn’t worried, just astonished at how dedicated to gossip the kids he went to school with could be sometimes.
“Well, I best be off I guess,” Harry said, glancing at his watch and pushing himself off the bench and away from the table. Draco, confused, glanced over at Ginny’s watch then made an ‘oh’ shape with his lips. “You have detention with Umbridge, don’t you?” He asked the Gryffindor, who nodded weakly. “Yep.” He winced, standing himself and reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin, help you.”
Harry glanced down at the hand resting there, then back at it’s owner, and despite this being only far too normal compared to their behavior towards each other last year, felt a tingling sensation from the place his friends hand had been when it lifted, because they really hadn’t been that close since reuniting after his dreadful summer.
“Er--thanks.” Harry said with a nod, then nodded again to Draco and turned and walked away.
As soon as Harry had stepped out through the Great Hall doors Ron leaned close to Draco, who had resumed his seat and his pie, and hissed in a low whisper, “Listen up, I need a favor.” Draco dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter, Hermione raised an eyebrow then shook her head as if to say, ‘It’s too late for this’ despite it being nearly five o’clock, and slid further down the Gryffindor table, gesturing for Ginny to follow, and she did. When the boys were left alone, Draco exclaimed, “Excuse me?” rather stupidly.
“I want to try out to be Keeper--don’t laugh!” Ron raised his hands apprehensively though Draco moving had been out of surprise not because he intended to make fun of the boy's ambitions. “I’m pretty good, and well… I know I want to get on the team at some point, but I’ve just never had a good enough broom and…” He shook his head and waved his hand. “The point is, I’d like to use your Nimbus 2001.” Draco’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but just as he opened his mouth, Ron cut him off again. “I said don’t laugh!”--he most certainly wasn’t going to--“You don’t need it anymore, do you? You’ve got your Firebolt now and… Just… I think we're friends now, right? We’ve been through a lot, and we both care about Harry and Hermione, so you can do this one thing for me, please, because that’s what friends do. Or at least, that’s what these friends do. That’s what this group of friends does.”
Draco opened his mouth and, finally, Ron didn’t cut him off, but he was left looking as if he was catching flies, for a moment, as “Wait until my father hears about this” was just on the tip of his tongue but now impossible to say without making everyone uncomfortable, and that would certainly take some getting used to but for now he couldn’t dwell on that, instead shaking his head and sighing, nodding, and saying, “Alright,” Ron cried out “Yes!” and pumped a fist but Draco got to cut him off this time, “But, I’m supervising. Don’t want you damaging my precious twelfth birthday present, okay?” Ron nodded eagerly, and instantly sprung to his feet.
It took him bounding halfway across the Great Hall to the exit for Draco to realize he wasn’t just doing victory laps, because that seemed like just his foolish Gryffindor behavior to be doing, and that no he actually wanted to start practicing with his precious twelfth birthday present now and only then did the truth of what he’d gotten himself into set in.
But Ron was right, they both cared about Harry and Hermione, so for their sake, maybe this practice/‘bonding time’ would be a good thing.
-*-*-*-
Draco had to keep repeating that to himself as he went through practice after practice with Ron. That and that Harry, though he had only expressed Umbridge was making him do lines and that wasn’t the worst sort of detention a Professor could give, he supposed, was going through bad times as well. At least he also managed to get homework done, while he had to practically force it down Ron’s throat whenever he made a bad tumble on the Nimbus and needed a rest. He could tell by Harry’s exhaustion at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, however, that he was sacrificing sleep to get his own homework done.
By Thursday when Draco rose into the sky on his Firebolt and opened up his school bag, flicking through his textbooks and parchment scrolls and counting up how many assignments he still had left to do, he realized that despite his best efforts he himself was behind as well, and sighed, exacerbated and exhausted.
This was not helped when, while hiding behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky when Fred and George passed with a group of first-years, Draco and Ron were at last caught in their antics by Harry himself.
“What are you doing?” He demanded as the two both struggled to hide their brooms behind their backs. “Er--nothing. What are you doing?” Harry merely glowered, clearly not buying it as his right hand twitched, his sleeve lowering to cover it.
“Come on, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?” The two glanced at each other then, at the same time, Draco shouted, “Out for a midnight stroll!” Flicking his hand to cause their brooms to vanish with a whisper of ‘evanesco’, while Ron declared, “We’re hiding from Fred and George, if you must know.” The two now glared at each other, and Harry rolled his eyes, flicking his own wand to dispel Draco’s poorly disguised cast, which hadn’t even reached the sections of wood that the boys fists still held in the air.
“But what have you got your brooms for?” He wiggled his wand between his fingers. “Transfiguration master, remember?” He frowned again. “You haven’t been flying, have you?” He noted how windswept their hair looked, Draco’s free of it’s usual gell and instead hanging limp on his forehead, framing his face in a way he didn’t quite mind, actually.
He cleared his throat when he felt his face heat up and repeated, “Have you?”
“I--well--well, OK, I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh, all right?” Ron looked to Draco beside him, almost as if by instinct, and the boy nodded, now smiling at him in that tight lipped way that Ron immediately mimicked before taking in a deep breath and pouring out his secrets. Harry listened, but mentally noted that he definitely needed to see what was up with that. “I thought I’d try out for Gryffindor Keeper and asked Malfoy if I could get his old broom. There. Go on. Laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.” Harry said immediately, causing both boys to guffaw in surprise. “It’s a brilliant idea! It’d be really cool if you got on the team! I’ve never seen you play Keeper, are you good?” Ron raised his chin in pride and proclaimed, “I’m not bad,” which caused Draco to laugh now.
“He’s bloody brilliant is what he is,” Harry turned to Draco in surprise, who only nodded, eyes wide, and continued. “No, I mean it! Oh Bilius stop, don’t give me that look. You’re really good!” He looked around nervously, as if expecting to get caught then saying, “Better than Bletchley at least.”
Ron shook his head, looking Harry straight in the eye to say, “He’s exaggerating, I fell off my broom all Tuesday--” But Harry was too caught up in something else. “‘Bilius?’” He questioned and Ron went red in the ears while Draco shrugged. “Well yes, Harry, it’s an abysmal middle name and I thought if I was going to quit with ‘Weasley,’ then I needed to switch to something at least half as good. And Bilius?” A sneaky grin spread its way across Draco’s lips. “That’s perfect.”
Harry now frowned as Ron sent his new ‘Quidditch mate’ a glare and the three began to walk, making their way to the Entrance Hall. “So… You’ve been practicing together? Every night?” The boys gave each other another glance he was beginning to get an ugly feeling in his gut about because they certainly never did that last year. “Well, yeah, while you were in detention.” Ron explained while Draco raised a playful eyebrow and asked, “How do you think I’ve managed to get so behind on homework?” Ron nodded, grinning playfully himself. “Yeah, for me it’s normal but Malfoy? You're almost as devoted as Hermione to that stuff.”
The two began to laugh and Harry now felt his frown deepen to a scowl as he pointedly looked away at the much more interesting polished floors. How had they become friends so quickly? He doubted he’d been able to be playful like this with Ron much as of late. Why was that? It couldn’t be because of something he had done, could it? Was he still bitter about the letters, even subconsciously?
He scratched his nose idly and immediately the laughing stopped. “What?” He asked, now scowling directly at the two, who still had the remnants of grins left on their lips. “You can continue your joking, I don’t mind, really.”
“No, Harry.” Draco shook his head urgently and reached for his wrist while Ron asked, “What’s that on the back of your hand?”
He stopped walking immediately, trying to tear his wrist out of Draco’s grip but it was too late, he’d already flattened the back of his hand, showed it to Ron, and widened his eyes in horror.
“It’s just a cut--it’s nothing--it’s--”
“Oh my Merlin.”
“Harry… it’s bleeding.”
“She… How dare she?”
I must not tell lies.
“I thought you said she was making you do lines?” Ron demanded, looking disgusted as Harry hurried to keep walking, tucking his sleeve further down to cover the still bleeding scrawl written--no, carved--into his skin, possibly permanently. “That’s against the law, that is.” Draco said, and Harry bit his bottom lip, hesitating, but after a long moment of silence, he explained everything that Umbrdige had made him do during the hours he’d been forced to spend inside that creepy pink office. They stopped walking at the staircase to the dungeons just so he could finish telling said tale, Draco refusing to leave his side before knowing every detail of what the woman was doing to his friend.
“The old hag!” Ron exclaimed in a whisper, glancing around for any signs of an incoming prefect before leaning close to whisper, “She’s sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”
“No,” Harry’s response was almost immediate. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got to me.” And once again the two boys before him exchanged a look that said too much to have developed in a short time, causing his heart to inflame once more.
“Harry that’s the most… Actually, that sounds exactly like something you would do.” Draco said, shaking his head and Ron nodded. “Yeah, Malfoy’s right!” He didn’t even point out the ridiculousness of him saying this. “You can’t let her get away with this!”
“I don’t know how much power McGonagall’s got over her,” said Harry, and both boys cried out, “Go to Dumbledore, then!” and, “Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!”
“No,” said Harry flatly, causing both boys to step back a bit in surprise. Draco immediately furrowed his brow in quick suspicion, whilst Ron questioned, still baffled, “Why not?”
“He’s got enough on his mind.” Harry said pointedly, avoiding Draco’s gaze after seeing how the suspicion only worsened and instead gesturing to the Dungeons stairs. “You should go, you said you were behind on homework,” He shrugged his shoulders and turned for the opposite set of stairs upwards. “I am too.”
“Harry, wait--”
Harry snapped around, glaring, and yelled out, “Can you just quit it already? Let go!” Tearing his arm back from where Draco had grasped it, wincing down at the words once more, and now looking up at his friend in horror. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just have to get through the rest of this week and then detentions over and this will fade away with a ‘Magic-Hermione-Granger-Created-Solution.’ So just leave it, okay?” He snapped back around and started to stomp up the stairs, hearing only bits and pieces of Ron’s good night to Draco before the clacking of the Slytherin’s steps downstairs and the Gryffindor’s up, but it was enough to further cement his beliefs of how much they had managed to get along in a short time whilst Harry couldn’t so much as grin at Ron the way he used to.
“If you er… Want to get some work done before bed… I can make Fred, George, and Lee quit testing their products and give you the Common Room for the night.” And yet he still managed to be as compassionate to his best friend as always. So Harry looked below at him, standing just a bit above the foot of the stairs, gripping the railing with one hand and Draco’s--now his--Nimbus 2001 with the other as if bracing for an attack, and frowned a little while nodding his head.
“Yeah, yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Ron.” He said curtly, and though the words were forced, and he still couldn’t grin with glee, the light smile on his lips was sensitive enough to seem even a little bit like how they used to be to an outside viewer, and this late at night? That was enough for Harry’s conscience, at least.
-*-*-*-
“How was it that I managed to book Quidditch try-outs the same day as everyone else?” Draco sidled up to Angelina Johnson smoothly when he heard this words and gave her a shit-eating grin--because redeemed or not he was going to be competitive to the Gryffindor’s around Quidditch until the day his friends shenanigans got him killed--as he proclaimed, “Maybe because you booked the field first and every other team knows how to work in it’s own favor?”
The darker girl snapped her head to him in a second in surprise and he turned that grin into a sympathetic smile--because yes he was still redeemed--and patted her shoulder lightly, saying, “Don’t worry, you’ll get there…” Before slithering back to the stands he was hiding near.
It was true that the back-to-back try-outs thing was simply ridiculous, but every team knew--or should know, though clearly Angelina still needed work to do--that four teams doing try-outs in the same day would only make them run shorter as people who were kinder (Gryffindor and Hufflepuff) feared running into each other's time slots and people who were more bold in their competitiveness (Slytherin and Ravenclaw) were there to sabotage.
What resulted in stands being packed with all sorts of crowds so that when Draco finally did arrive with Ron, hoping to practice early and being as oblivious to the delmina as everyone else except the Captains themselves (save Angelina) he had no where to sit outside of with Pansy’s gang. So he was hiding under the stands, naturally, because what else was a Slytherin there to secretly cheer for his Gryffindor friend to do when most of the school either feared or hated him right now already for his ‘not-so-Slytherin’ tendencies.
(He had protested to Harry, Bilius, and Granger Danger on numerous occasions that this was ridiculous because it was most definitely in Slytherin nature to turn on your parents and give your father up to the authorities along with many other fathers but Hermione had always quickly shut him down with a warning look at the students and teachers around at the time and the conversation had abruptly ended, as so many of the Quartet’s conversations had ended up falling prey to doing this year.)
He pinched the bridge of his nose as Padma Patil landed on the ground and the bristles of her broom accidentally nudged Sally Smith, and the Ravenclaw and Hufflpuff immediately got into a shouting match over it ending in Roger Davies and Cedric Diggory having to come running to separate the two fifth years. It couldn’t really only be September 8th, could it?
Thankfully Hufflepuff got off the field after that and Cedric gave Davies a very firm and repetitive apology before berating his newly appointed Chaser, and after Davies awarded Anthony Goldstein the position of Beater, Michael Corner was made the second Beater, and Patil the Keeper. Draco managed to maintain his hiding place up until this point, when Montague led the hopeful Slytherins ready to try-out onto the field and the Ravenclaw’s passed him, one particular curly golden head spotting him instantly with wide eyes.
“Draco!” His eyes, which had previously been trained onto Crabbe and Goyle swinging their bats around in what he hoped was a manner of training their muscles, flicked back to the boy and his whole body jumped, his head banging into the wooden beam above him.
“Anthony!” He fell forward onto his hands and knees and crawled out from under the stands, standing, and glaring at the much shorter Ravenclaw boy. “How did you catch me?” The boy swallowed, and Draco now felt his temper get even more raised by the wet drops of water now falling onto him and sogging his already messy hair because this kid just had to get him out of his hiding place.
Though, it wasn’t as if he had ordered him out, had he? He’d just said his name, and Draco had immediately…
“You’re hard not to see.” The new Beater declared with a shoulder shrug. “Also when Eddie Carmiachael knocked me off my broom with that jinx of his--did you see that?--I fell on the ground and saw you, so I kind of was looking… I thought you would have moved now, though. Your team's up.” He nodded to the field as Millicent Bulstrode kicked into the air with her Beater’s bat and Draco frowned. “No, I’m here for someone else.” He cast his eyes across the field for Bilius but couldn’t find him through the gradually worsening rain.
“Yeah, I’m staying too. For a friend!” Anthony rushed out though he really didn’t need to, and Draco found himself looking at him curiously, before a grin started to snake across his lips. “What?” The Ravenclaw asked curiously while the Slytherin now laughed a full belly laugh and slapped his knees. “What?!”
He raised a hand and plucked the Golden Snitch out of the boys curls, still laughing, and the kid nearly jumped a foot in the air in surprise as Julius Harper, the returning Fourth Year who kept trying to steal Draco’s spot as Seeker, swept in between them on his Cleansweep Eleven and snatched the Snitch out of Draco’s fingers. Now Anthony glared at him once he’d calmed down from that shock, and folded his arms, only making Draco laugh harder.
“You look like a wet cat!”
“Stop it!”
“How could you not feel it?”
“I said stop it!”
“It was right on your head!”
Anthony punched him, surprisingly hard, on the arm, which caused Draco’s laughing to stop abruptly because it actually was really hard. “Wow…” He rubbed the spot on his arm that he could feel would bruise with time and stared at the Ravenclaw now in awe. “That hurt.” “Yeah, well…” Anthony shrugged. “I’m not a wet cat.” Draco, in spite of himself, smiles, and nodded appreciatively. “No… You aren’t.”
“You were quite good.” Draco found himself saying after a moment's awkward silence and Anthony raised an eyebrow so he specified with, “At Quidditch, I mean.” and he nodded along, smiling proudly. “Thanks. My Mum plays for the Wimbourne Wasps and my Dad was good enough for the Fitchburg Finches but decided to settle down with my Mum here in the U.K instead.” Draco nodded along to his every word, though Anthony was beginning to pale, eyes widened. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I? I’m rambling--”
“No, no, you're fine I actually--” He cleared his throat. He couldn’t just explain his heart's desires to this boy he met on the train to Hogwarts a week ago, could he? He couldn’t just pour out how frustrating it had been to not have a single laid back, enjoyable conversation that didn’t eventually go down hill or start that way since reuniting with his friends. Though he desperately wished he could, deep down, and maybe even wished stepping up those stands to sit beside Pansy was an option, because at least with her, he’d be a magnet to dragging the other Slytherins towards him as well, and then conversation would flow freely again.
“I haven’t had a normal conversation like that in… a while. Sorry.” Something truly sensitive and raw came over Anthony’s eyes which--huh, he had just noticed, were hazel, but had green flecks in them.
Again, he met him last week, why was he saying this?
“Do you… We could sit together and just… talk, if you’d like.” Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise as Anthony shuffled over to the stands, sneakers squelching in the mud, and held his hand out to a pair of empty seats. Then, with a glance over the stands to verify no one was watching, and they weren’t, either focused on gossiping to each other or cheering/booing the try-outs, he stepped up with the Ravenclaw and nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”
And so it was that Draco found himself totally wrapped up in an intense discussion of Quidditch predictions for the next Final, and he almost forgot to cheer for Ron at all. That was, until he overheard Pansy’s incessant booing from a couple rows above, and then he knew it must be time for the Gryffindor to take a turn.
He wasn’t as good as he had been in their practices at first, but once he gained enough confidence and conformity, he was playing his best again, despite the booing of Pansy and her gang which had shrunk, noticeably, to a very small size at this point, and she didn’t even have a boyfriend or girlfriend to accompany her this time. Be that as it may, Ron’s performance could also have been down heartened as just a couple hours before, Draco got to hear an earful about how Umbridge and he had gotten into a shouting match in which he called her, of the notable mentions, ‘a fat ugly toad’, ‘a pink pompous prick’, and ‘Ministry hounding, boot licking, Fudge obsessed dog’, all because of how Umbridge had denied answering any of Hermione’s daily questions due to her rudeness from the previous two classes they had had, which both ended with Hermione calling her out on her Viktor Krum-slander.
Suffice to say, Ron now had detention for an unknown time from 3:00 p.m to who knows when on weekends, and the impending doom of endless homework now was being pressed into his skull, so that certainly wasn’t helping his performance.
It wasn’t until after a lot of somersaults in Draco’s stomach from nerves he couldn’t explain that he remembered Anthony had been waiting for someone too, and turned and asked him to get his mind off of the wait to hear if Ron got Keeper.
“Oh!” Instantly, his freckled face flushed bright red, a strange look in the still persistent rain that had let up, then worsened over the past few hours, and he looked away, scratching at the curls at the back of his head before admitting, “Er--You. I stayed here for you, actually.”
Draco could pinpoint the exact moment his heart skipped a beat and dropped to his stomach at the same moment Angelina called out, “And our new Keeper is… RONALD WEASLEY!”
-*-*-*-
Suffice to say, Herbology on Monday was shaping up to be very awkward, as Draco had left the Quidditch pitch in quite a hurry, mumbling about needing to hurry off to the party Gryffindor was bound to throw for Ron when he managed to find his footing on his jelly legs and get up to the Common Room, but really he had fled to the Mermaid Observation Tank (the MOT, for short) and tore open his bag, dumping out his homework and getting a head start because he needed something to keep his mind off of Anthony Goldstein.
Why had talking to him been so much smoother, and easier, then with any of his other friends this week? Had he done something wrong? He’d only tried to care for Harry by worrying about his detentions with Umbridge but he had pushed him away so quickly. Was he just angry about the whole situation? Did they need space, as he’d thought on the Platform? Surely that must be it, right?
And, if they did need space, then in the meantime, getting along with Anthony was fine, right? He really was quite nice. He didn’t bother him with questions about his dad or the Tournament, instead wanting to talk about interests they shared like Quidditch and Potions. And, outside of their awkward conversation on the train, he hadn’t even brought up the Tournament, but Draco could still see clearly how much he respected him for all he had gone through last year. And that respect… Well, despite his best efforts as a pureblood Malfoy, that respect was hard to come by.
He couldn’t completely distance himself off from his friends, however, especially when Harry, Hermione, and, the whole reason for them being here, Ron, were standing across from him at his patrol spot for the nights prefect duties, the former two holding up the latter’s wrist to Draco’s wand light so he could read the fine scrawl written into his skin.
I will respect my elders.
“She’s on her last straw, that woman.” Draco said, stepping back and shaking his head and Hermione nodded, dropping Ron’s hand and shaking her own head, looking absolutely infuriated. “Believe me, we’re only here because you’re our friend and deserve to be involved in this. Otherwise we would’ve already started on the letter to Percy.”
And that was how the four ended up under Harry’s cloak once more, shuffling hurriedly across the Hogwarts grounds to the Owlry while Hermione formed a letter full of all four of their opinions on Umbridge, signed it from the four of them and straight to Percy’s Ministry office, and sent it off with an order to Hedwig that it was of top priority that it got to Percy.
Draco then turned to Ron, glanced down at the scrawl on his hand, then at the similar one on Harry’s, and shook his head, muttering, “Illegal…” all the way down the stairs and back onto solid ground.
-*-*-*-
Junior Assistant to the Minister’s Office,
Ministry of Magic
September 10th.
On wizarding principal, Percy Weasley tends to start his day in the office with a warm tea; one because, well, he genuinely likes tea; and two because it was in his belief that the most refined of wizards mainly drinked tea, and it would make him look more presentable to the other, much older, much more experienced, and in his opinion, much more refined wizards he was lucky enough to work with.
Or unlucky. It was true that through the entire experience with the Order of the Phoenix coming and going through his ho--‘temporary residence,’ Percy was learning things about the Ministry he would otherwise have pretended to be lies or have never heard if it weren’t for the brilliant witch he currently had the privilege of sharing a bed with. Someone who had made it her life's purpose, seemingly, to show him reason.
And that was why, the ambitious boy couldn’t help but think brightly as he set his cup down on his desk and pulled out the drawer, smiling down at the band with a small sparkling diamond in the center, he knew for a fact Tess Whitlock was the one woman he desired to spend the rest of his life with.
His mother had cried so incessantly when he told her he’d was planning to do it, and his father was all too eager to take them down to the muggle shop down the street to find the perfect ring, and he had to admit prices in the muggle world were much cheaper than could be found if he had simply flooed to Diagon Alley as was planned. Either way, they found the ring, and it was on the walk back when Arthur dared to ask his middle son, who he had always imagined as the one to get married after all the other grandkids had already come, far too worried about ascending the ranks then settling down with a woman who would compliment his job title.
It was Percy’s response of, “We’re at war.” which had truly shown Arthur how his son had changed from a cleanly, combed, pompous prat who would gladly flounce around with a woman that went along with his ideal Ministry future on his arm, to a sincere man that no longer cared about appearances but his family’s lives through the horrors he’d heard from Fudge and the Order, and had fallen for a curvy, conventionally unattractive woman with almost the same brains as him that could see straight to his heart.
In that moment Arthur gained a new respect for his son.
Now Percy found himself all too excited for the night to come, in which he had arranged a romantic dinner on the richer side of Diagon Alley, provided by a lot of extra hours which had left Tess to bond even further with her (hopefully, if all went well and his own intuition was to be relied on) future in-laws, so he considered it an all around win for all.
His musings were abruptly cut short, however, by the arrival of a snow white owl bursting through his open window (it was customary to keep the windows open as they only existed to let in owls or other flying means of messages, as they were underground, and windows were useless otherwise) and dropping a plain brown letter on his desk before sharply turning and flying off with a quick flutter off her wings.
Instantly Percy had slammed his drawer shut at the sight of the Hogwarts address, because just a couple days ago he had received a letter from one Draco Malfoy detailing truly horrific things the newly instated Professor Umbridge had been doing to his brother Ron’s friend Harry Potter, and it had shook him but been pushed to the back of his mind in his hurrying to prepare his proposal to Tess. Now, he could focus on the woman he had always considered quite sweet, if offputting in the looks but he tended not to judge people on that, but their mannerisms and character. And her mannerisms were impeccable, and she was always so kind to him.
What had happened? Surely a Death Eater wasn’t impersonating another teacher? Bartemius Crouch Jr had just been arrested and transported to Azkaban, the confirmation of the transport letter being sent to Fudge’s office a day ago. So what exactly had gotten into that woman’s head?
Seeing no point in dragging out his thoughts on the matter, Percy tore open the letter with an opener and slide out the neatly folded parchment inside, beginning to read the equally neat handwriting, no doubt the work of one Hermione Granger, whom he’d always admired for her formality and intelligence, something he thought his siblings purely lacked, and so the addition to her around the house surely had been quite nice.
The letter ended with her, Ron, Harry, and Draco’s signatures all at the bottom, however, indicating this came from the four of their thoughts combined, and not just one muggleborn, which didn’t surprise him all that much. But he didn’t have much time to focus on that as he checked his watch and saw it was right time for the Fudge’s meeting with the French Minister for Magic and then after that they would need to finalize instating Dolores Umbridge as High Inquisitor and then make a statement to the Daily Prophet all about it.
So it seemed the likelihood of Percy ever getting a word in edgewise about the state of Umbridge’s affairs at the school was going to be very low, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to at least try.
-*-*-*-
“But you must understand, Minister, the complaints I have been getting… All those children present at the speech made by your ‘friend’ Albus Dumbledore--” Cornelius Fudge wiped his brow as he waved a hand and attempted to give the Minister seated across from him a polite smile he must have hoped could alleviate worries. Percy had seen him attempt this on the many Minister’s who had come forth to his doorstep demanding answers for his abrupt actions and the rumors of Voldemort’s return Dumbledore had spewed last June, and the loyal assistant had watched as his formal and kind charade had crumbled to reveal a very stressed man indeed.
“You must understand, Minister Lemaire, that tensions were high last summer. We were not sure what had killed Viktor Krum and needed something to alleviate tensions so--”
“You lied to over one thousand people? To children?” Fudge spared a glance to Percy, who sprung forth immediately to hand over the documents he had copied from his own scrying that detailed every word said in the interrogation of Crouch Jr. Percy explained this much to the Minister then as Fudge shuffled to find the right page revealing the ‘real’ intentions behind taking Harry, Draco, and Krum to that graveyard and handed it off to Lemaire.
He took it and read it over carefully, an interpreter coming over to translate any word he didn’t understand, and then looked back up at Fudge, dangerous eyes, icy and far more full of wisdom and strength than the man across from him, were narrowed to suspicion.
“So you truly believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone? Never coming back?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘never’--”
“You are sure Dumbledore was lying?” Fudge got noticeably pale as he swallowed and nodded, smiling nervously once more.
“Yes, I’m sure.” He lied, but it seemed to do the trick for the Minister, who nodded her acceptance and handed the paper back, Fudge taking it quickly and releasing a quick sigh.
They finished the formalities of ending a world-leaders meeting and shook hands once before Fudge collapsed back in his seat and held his head in his hands, shaking it. As the door slammed shut behind the last French guard Amelia Bones shot out of her seat and exclaimed, “You’ve got to meet with Dumbledore. This has gone far enough.”
Following her, though she did not stand up from her seat, came the Head of the Department of Mysteries, Laurel Greengrass, saying, “I agree with you, Amelia. If you spread this lie to the papers, without stating it’s a Death Eater lie, the results could be disastrous for our campaign.”
“What are we even campaigning for, now?” the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ademar Spinnet asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow to Fudge who, Merlin help them all, had removed his bowler hat and begun twirling it in his hands, never a good sign. “We all know You-Know-Who has returned, but Dumbledore refuses to let us tell anyone. So we close doors to the press, letting them spread rumors and lies about why you’ve made so many radical changes in a short amount of time, and still Dumbledore won’t listen and let you reveal his return. So you put Dolores Umbridge into the school as a new teacher, hoping that keeping the students off the topic of learning defense will dampen their worries as well as strength ties to the Ministry, in case your power really does wash away due to Dumbledore’s incessant need to have you deny, deny, deny. And he even seems to encourage her appointment, for whatever reason, only saying it will go alongside the Daily Prophet’s image of him trying to take over the Ministry, and you doing your best to stop him.” The Head Wizard threw his hands up, looking around at the other Heads and Junior Assistant around him for a possible rebuttal. “I can’t see what the goal is here.”
“The goal, as of now,” Fudge found it in himself to say with his chin high and more courage still as he rose to his feet. “Is to do whatever Dumbledore says will make You-Know-Who hurt. I believe you all can agree with me--even you, Amelia--in that none of us know quite how to combat a Dark Wizard like Dumbledore, especially not He himself. So, if you would let me be on my way, I have a Decree to finalize.” He nodded towards Percy, who now finally found his opening to reveal his inside scoop, and took a daring step forwards.
“Actually, Minister Fudge, I advise you to rethink your approach with appointing Miss Umbridge as High Inquisitor.” Fudge raised both his eyebrows in surprise, most likely because one, Percy rarely spoke up to him, and two, as Percy had previously thought, he no doubt saw Umbridge as quite trustworthy and sweet. Why not make her High Inquisitor?
However, when Percy handed over his letter from Ron and his friends and the Minister began to scan it’s contents worriedly, he felt a clear rush of relief as Fudge’s eyes widened with each word, then started to boil with anger before he glared his assistant straight in the eye and said,
“We’re passing that Decree.” Percy cocked his head a bit, forcing a tiny smile, blinked once, and managed to say, “Excuse me?” But by that point Fudge had already walked around him and headed for the door.
“Minister? Did you… did you read the… Minister!” He had nearly stepped out of the chamber entirely, so Percy pranced forward and swept every document they had come in with from the desk as he went and brought his brows together close, confused as he watched Fudge turn and set his bowler hat on his head, looking still far more confident then one should be after such horrifying news and maybe more than Percy had ever seen his boss be before.
In fact…
“Do you trust me, Weasley?”
He should say no, because Fudge had, quite honestly, not done very much in his run as Minister that didn’t rely on Dumbledore or any other far more wisdom-filled wizard or witch but in his eyes he saw anger and he saw a plan. A plan that might just be the first thing Cornelius Fudge has ever done without any other hand in helping him. So, for reasons he realized he’d have a very hard time having to explain to Tess at dinner--if he ever got to dinner that is, with how this day was going--he found himself nodding, a smile spread across the Minister’s lips, without a single trace of nervous or awkwardness in it.
“Then we are passing that Decree.”
-*-*-*-
Ron unfortunately made the not at all ambitious choice of sitting beside Hermione at the exact moment she was picking up and drinking from her goblet to read the newest headline on the Monday morning Daily Prophet and got the bad luck of a face full of pumpkin juice in the morning as she couldn’t help but spit it all out at the sight of Umbridge herself plastered on the front cover.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
And then yet still, on the back of the Daily Prophet Draco could see--as he quickly ordered Hermione to turn it so she could as well--a crisp black letter taped to the back. Harry had hardly managed to say, “‘High Inquisitor?’ What does that mean?” When Hermione let out a yelp and ripped the letter off, while immediately along the Gryffindor table, and all three tables around it, people began to exclaim surprise and alarment as they no doubt received the same news the Quartet had from the paper, and were just as, if not more confused and surprised.
“It’s from Percy! Go on, you read the paper Ron, and I’ll read the letter. Go on, read it aloud!” Ron, who was quite busy cleaning the juice off his face and robes, rolled his eyes and flatted said paper across the table to begin to read it aloud as Hermione skimmed through Percy’s letter.
“In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” The teens started to give each other uneasy looks, but Ron continued. “‘The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,’ said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. ‘He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, as well as some political officials who he’s met with in person, such as the Minister for Magic of France on Saturday night, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of.’”
“What’s he playing at?” Draco questioned, but Hermione, still skimming through the letter, was starting to smile mischievously, which silenced him real quick, and Ron continued.
“This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two was passed to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. ‘That’s how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,’ said Weasley last night. ‘Dumbledore couldn’t find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she’s been an immediate success--’”
“She’s been a WHAT?” said Harry loudly, causing Draco to flinch but Hermione was now on the verge of giggling so clearly they were to take everything Percy said here with a grain of salt.
“‘--an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what’s really happening at Hogwarts.’ This is the last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor. ‘This is an exciting new phase in the Minister’s plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,’ said Weasley. ‘The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching position and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.’”
Now Hermione broke into a full state of giggles, gaining the attention of Dean and Seamus nearby, which caused her to quit quickly.
“The Ministry’s new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts. ‘I have two daughters of my own at Hogwarts whom I know will be in safe hands with this new Decree,’ said Laurel Greengrass, 39, Head Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries, speaking alongside the rest of her Department Head colleagues and Weasley last night. ‘It is true that some of us are worried about Dumbledore’s goals in his summer-long meetings with Fudge that have resulted in changes such as the removal of Dementors from Azkaban and a negotiation summit with Giants being arranged this winter. Suffice to say with the Ministry inside that castle I’m more confident my girls will be safe.’”
“These mentioned decisions have already been covered in this newspaper, but this statement from Greengrass proves that they had roots with the mysterious meetings between Minister and Headmaster that have now seemed to culminate in the former getting the upper hand on the latter’s school. Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, though still retaining his titles such as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.”
“‘I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a Headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,’ said a Ministry insider last night.”
Ron finished the reading, looked up at Harry and Draco’s horrified expressions then turned to Hermione’s gleeful one and felt very torn. She managed to break the awkward silence by slamming the letter down however, and clearing her throat to compose herself fully and wipe the smile off her face as the three boys began to read.
Dear Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, and Ron,
You no doubt have read the Prophet before this, and in that case I must first clear the air in saying I believe you wholeheartedly, so I hope that you believe me.
I have read your letter and hope that those words do not scar or burn, but for the time being I must say--and I dearly hope you do not hate me for this--it is of utmost importance that you head to Dolores Umbridge’s words. The Education Decree which has been passed is not evidence that your words have been met with deaf ears, in fact, I believe them thoroughly and sent them to the Minister as quickly as I could, and though he didn’t say a word, I believe he believes them too. His passing this Decree is a part of a larger plan he has in store and, though I must admit it does feel strange, I trust him in it, and I can only beg that you do as well. As of now, Umbridge believes she has full control, and we intend to keep it that way. You may see in the article how Miss Greengrass and other trusted Ministry officials released a statement to the Prophet. They are lying. The play here, and I hope to get all my words out here as who knows if I’ll still be able to pen you when Umbridge’s control of this school increases, is we need her to think she has that power and will be keeping it, maybe even increasing it. I’ll be honest, I don’t know what the full plan is, but I have a general understanding;
Fudge needs people to still believe in his reliability when Dumbledore finally lets him reveal the truth about You-Know-Who, but who's going to believe him when Dumbledore has also made him remain a shut in all summer and in that time the Prophet has made you, Harry, into a joke, and you, Draco, an attention seeking prat who lied about his dad being a Death Eater for said attention? They’ll believe it if all their kids do.
That’s right, you four, I’m asking that you spread the word to as many who’ll listen that You-Know-Who is truly back. It is in Fudge’s mind the best way he’ll manage to get people on his side, and you must understand, this isn’t just about politics. The more people he has on his side, the better chance we have against You-Know-Who in this war, and yes, it’s a war. And, if you're worried about getting students on your side, that’s where Umbridge comes in. While my colleagues and I bolster her pride with our interviews with the press, her control over the school will only grow and with it, students' anger. Your anger towards her for giving Ron and Harry that barbaric detention punishment only proves this. If all goes as planned, by the end of the year, Fudge should have an entire school led by Albus Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived backing his word against the word of the press, and You-Know-Who will only have a couple of Death Eater followers and Dementors.
By the way, Tess and I are happy to announce that we are officially engaged! We’ve agreed on (hopefully) a date in December of 1996.
- Percy
The three boys looked up from the letter, and Ron was the first to speak, looking over at Hermione who was raising an eyebrow in question as to what they had to say, and said, “He’s got to be the most confusing git I’ve ever met.” The ginger said and she smiled, saying, “And yet he’s your brother.” Ron nodded, finding himself smiling as well, for some reason, as he eyed the neatly scrawled parchment. “And yet he’s my brother…”
“I’m not sure I fully understand the plan here.” Harry mumbled, and Draco and Ron both shook their heads as well, but Hermione grinned proudly, proclaiming, “I do!” But then glancing up at the staff table, where Umbridge sat, looking all too pleased with herself, and leaned closer to her friends to whisper, “I’ll explain later, alright? In Care.” They nodded, and finished their breakfast hurriedly, realizing they had taken far too much time with the article and letter and classes would be starting soon.
As the Gryffindor trio waved off the fourth member of their Quartet and turned for History of Magic, Ron started to grin, so Harry questioned why and Hermione slowed down to see the strange expression as well, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see McGonagall inspected,” said Ron happily. “Umbridge won’t know what hit her.” Hermione rolled her eyes, then lightly grabbed his wrist and held it up. “Just remember what Percy said, alright? He’s got a point, you know. If we want Umbridge to think she has the power, we have to ‘respect our elders.’” Though Ron nodded, Harry hoped desperately he was thinking the same thing as him.
That heading Umbridge’s orders which she had carved into his best friend's skin would be a lot harder than Hermione was making it sound, and he’d probably barf in his own mouth from how disgusting it would be to appear respectful to her. He could probably manage going along with everything else that came with whatever Fudge’s ‘grand plan’ was, but last week had taught him one clear message with all the times he’d had to write with his own blood; Sometimes you really shouldn’t always respect your elders.