Chapter 16
November 15, 1998
The Daily Prophet
DUMBLEDORE BREAKS HIS SILENCE
Lays blame for deaths of followers on our own Minister of Magic
Reiko Asakawa, reporter
In a shocking move, this reporter received a visit from none other than the Dark Lord Dumbledore. After suffering heavy losses to the Order of the Dragon, he decided to visit this newspaper office to ‘clear the air’, as it were, and assign the responsibility for the decimation of his ranks to our beloved Minister of Magic, Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Here is what he had to say, verbatim, and let me tell you, folks, the man has truly gone off his nut.
“I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Lord Emrys, Lord Ambrosius, Lord Ambroaz, Lord Cambion, Lord Ganieda, Lord Wyllt, Lord Caledonensis and Lord Sylvestrus, am here to rectify a great wrong that has been perpetrated against me and mine. As has been reported recently, my organization, the Order of the Dragon, has suffered some devastating losses due to the vile, evil machinations of the pretender to the throne, Tom Riddle. My people’s goals were, and are, always and ever focused on one thing only; the protection of the wizarding world and the sanctity of magicals as a species.
“Through chicanery and mind magics, Riddle and his ilk have been turning the wizarding world against me, knowing that I am their Lord and Savior, simply to undermine and destabilize my rule. The Potters, the Longbottoms, the Boneses, the Abbotts, the Lovegoods, the Greengrasses, the Malfoys, the Snapes, the Princes, the Mulcibers, the Creeveys, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick have all tried to sabotage my benevolent authority, and to a degree they have succeeded. The lies that they have spread about me have caused a few magicals to flee the British Isles in an effort to escape the umbrella of protection that I’ve extended over my countrymen. Fortunately, I have just enough people in place in the Ministry to prevent many of my citizens from escaping my sovereignty by writing and enacting new laws through the Wizengamot that forbids any sort of emigration to another wizarding nation.
“It won’t affect those who’ve already fled, but it will keep everyone home from now on. Just the fact that I was able to have a new law enacted under the Minister’s nose speaks to my ultimate control in this country. Nothing is ever done without my authority and influence, and the quicker that the other side of this pointless wizard’s war realizes that, the better off everyone will be in the long run.”
This reporter is, quite frankly, stunned at the massive delusions under which the former headmaster of Hogwarts suffers, and completely understands why he was ousted when he was. This reporter is sending out a plea to the Ministry and the people of wizarding Great Britain: please, for the love of all that is holy, rise up against the madman known as Albus Dumbledore and take him out of the picture, by any means necessary. Should he continue to exercise his ideals for the ‘greater good’, this reporter fears that it won’t be long before the magical world becomes extinct; at least in this part of the world.
“Have you seen this, Draco?” Harry asked as he held out that morning’s Daily Prophet. The blond took the paper and perused the article while Harry attempted to eat. His morning sickness kicked in and it was hit or miss what his stomach would tolerate. At the moment, he was working through a yoghurt and muesli mixture flavored with mixed berries. So far, his tummy hadn’t rebelled at the food, so he heaved a tentative sigh of relief. All was silent for a while until the patronus entered their house.
“The article in the paper has stirred up the wizarding populace rather quickly,” Tom’s voice erupted from the basilisk. “People are calling for Dumbledore’s head; they’re afraid that if he’s able to get rid of me, our world would likely implode from the tensions on both sides. I’ve got Diggle, Doge and Podmore shadowing the old man under the guise of ‘protection’. They’ll let me know if and when we’ll finally be able to take him out. Cut off the head of the dragon and the rest will fall behind him.”
“Poor uncle Marvolo,” Harry murmured sadly. “He’s absolutely the best thing to happen to the British wizarding world, but he’s not able to enjoy the fruits of his labor because of that gigantic arsehole.” The brunet gestured rather violently at the paper lying innocently in the middle of the table where Draco had tossed it when he was done.
“I know, love, but it won’t be long now,” the Malfoy heir remarked with a wry grin. “With interviews like that, Dumbledore will bury himself without any help from us. Now, I want you to relax today. Your dietary issues have me a little worried, so I’ve asked Mother to come over and help you work out a menu that will allow you to eat without threat of bringing it back up later.”
“Okay, Draco,” Harcourt agreed readily. He wasn’t terribly fond of worshipping the porcelain god himself, so was willing to accept any help he could get to stay away from the bathroom. The blond reached across the table and laid a gentle hand to his bonded mate’s cheek, smiling softly as Harry leaned into the caress, love glimmering from emerald eyes.
“Now,” the future Malfoy Lord remarked, “I need to get to the Ministry to start my training to be Marvolo’s Senior Undersecretary. While I’m gone, I don’t want you overdoing anything around here. If you want to do some minor decorating, get your mother or mine here to help you out.”
“I will, love,” his spouse agreed readily. “I know that I’d weakened my system quite a lot when I was under that wretched curse, so I intend to take it as easy as possible. I’m just going to relax for now; when I’m ready to do the nursery, I’ll call Narcissa and Mum over to help.”
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“Well, well, well, if it isn’t cowardly Harry Potter,” came a snide voice from behind the raven haired teen, who just about jumped a mile in startlement. He spun around to face that familiar voice, grimacing as he saw that, along with Granger were the two youngest Weasleys, Molly Weasley and the grand high Benedict Arnold himself, Albus Dumbledore. “I don’t see that blond ponce anywhere,” Hermione continued with a sickly sweet smile on her face.
“What’s the matter?” Ronald loudly chimed in, malicious glee in his eyes. “You not good enough for the ferret?” When the boys were still visiting Severus in Hogwarts, before they were driven away by the headmaster, Bill had learned a spell from Mad-Eye Moody which turned then-six year old Draco into a ferret kit. The spell was done in front of the younger Weasley siblings, giving them the idea that they could treat Malfoy any way they wanted. Unfortunately, it was during the school year, and the hallways were full of children going to and from classes. If it wasn’t for the quick hands of Ravenclaw Tulip Karasu scooping him up from the floor, he would have been trampled. It was this final unwarranted and unprovoked attack, in a long list of them, that convinced Severus to tender his resignation and take the potions position in Durmstrang. That was the last time the children were seen in Hogwarts, as that very night Lily and James, as well as Lucius and Narcissa canceled their children’s place in the school, along with the automatic tuition.
“Actually, Weasel, I believe it’s the other way 'round,” drawled an angry voice from behind the group. The Weasleys and Granger jumped and squeaked in fright, whilst Dumbledore spun in place, wand out and a curse on his lips. Blue eyes widened in shock as his wand was stripped from his fingers so fast that it had left splinters behind.
“Now see here,” the old man blustered as he spun around and glared at Snape-Potter, who was smirking as he twirled the elder wand in his fingers. “Give that back to me at once!”
“Sorry about your luck, Dumbledore,” Draco drawled as he circled the interlopers and stood beside his best friend. “You know wand lore better than most, I’d wager, so you know that your wand now belongs to Harry. He won it from you fairly, and you can’t take it back.”
“How can you take up with this trash?” Molly Weasley finally screeched. “He is so far beneath you that it’s pathetic!”
“I take great umbrage to that characterization,” Harcourt protested loudly. Their conversation had drawn quite the crowd, and the teens’ friends were fighting not to burst out laughing as Harry played with the Weasels and the madman. “I’ll have you know that my parents come from the crème de la crème of society, so you casting aspersions on my character is tantamount to libel. I have half a mind to march right over to the Ministry and file charges against you for damaging my good name.”
“My father knows quite a few lawyers that would love nothing more than to take you lot apart piece by piece,” Draco agreed with a menacing grin. “It wouldn’t take anything for them to find all the dirt that you hide so well underneath your fingernails. I would suggest you move along, before I call him and have him get the ball rolling.”
“Hello,” came a musical voice from the doorway, startling Harry out of his memories. He turned to his visitors, a wide grin on his face.
“Hey, Mum; Mother. I’m glad you could come over,” the brunet said happily as he rushed to the two women and enveloped them in a group hug, which they returned with gusto.
“Draco informed me that your morning sickness was rather difficult, so I’m here to try and help you develop a menu that you can tolerate until the sickness passes,” Narcissa told her son-in-law, fingers brushing lovingly through his inky locks.
“I’m here to help with the nursery,” Lily contributed with a grin, hopping on the balls of her feet excitedly, hands clasped together underneath her chin. She looked very like an overeager toddler, and Harcourt couldn’t help but chuckle at his mother’s enthusiasm.
“Well, let’s head on up there and see what we have,” Narcissa remarked as she looped her arm through Harry’s. Not to be outdone, Lily took the other side and they made their slow way up the grand staircase to the balcony, where all of the bedrooms but the master suite were located. “Have you decided on a color scheme yet?”
“Keep in mind that we can always change it when we find out the gender of the child,” Lily added as they turned left at the top of the stairs and opened the first door. It was a wide, spacious room done in a neutral eggshell color, the en suite bathroom door in the far wall. The left hand wall had a large bay window on the outside wall of the room. Since this was the first room in the line, it was situated on an outside wall of the house, which is why it had such an extravagant arrangement.
“That’s simply beautiful, Harry,” Narcissa whispered softly. Neither woman had ventured upstairs when decorating, knowing that those would be the children’s rooms, and should be left to the parents for the paint and color schemes.
“Thank you, Mother,” the raven haired teen whispered with a smile. “I’ve always loved the architecture of bay and bow windows. The two end bedrooms each have one of these windows facing out, and the other four in between have bow windows on the back walls. I made sure that all of them have the capability to have a window seat installed, if the kids want it.”
“That was always part of my fantasy,” Lily remarked in a dreamy voice, eyes far away as she stared out the window at her home in the distance. “I’ve always loved those big bay windows with padded window seats. I imagined myself staring out at the wide expanse of lawn as I thought about my love, in a war in some far away country. I would be writing letters as I curled up on the bench, staring out at the sunlight, dappled through the leaves of the trees. Of course, I’d be wearing a floor-length crinoline dress and lace petticoats, and my hair would be piled up on top of my head, with jeweled butterflies to hold it in place.”
“You’ve read Wuthering Heights one too many times, haven’t you, Mum?” her son quipped, laughter in his voice.
“It was Little Women, actually,” she remarked with a sniff, tilting her head back and looking down her nose at her son. The look she tried to pull off was sabotaged by the mischievous twinkle in glittering jade eyes.
“As amusing as all of this is, we still have to decide on a color scheme,” Narcissa reminded them, a small, fond grin on her face.
“I don’t want gender-specific colors,” Harry told his mums softly. “I don’t want to saddle them with expectations of behavior, dress and attitude straight from the hospital. Let them grow into the people they want to be, and they can decorate however they want to when they’re older.”