A few of the wizards above them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Fudge turned a slightly deeper shade of puce. The toadlike witch on his right, however, merely gazed at Dumbledore, her face quite expressionless. As far as I am aware,' Dumbledore continued, there is no law yet in place that says this court's job is to punish Harry for every bit of magic he has ever performed. He has been charged with a specific offence and he has presented his defence. All he and I can do now is to await your verdict. 'Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, evidently incensed. Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance; he was not at all sure that Dumbledore was right in telling the Wizengamot, in effect, that it was about time they made a decision. Again, however, Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harry's attempt to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations. Harry looked at his feet. His heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under his ribs. He had expected the hearing to last longer than this. He was not at all sure that he had made a good impression. He had not really said very much. He ought to have explained more fully about the dementors, about how he had fallen over, about how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed. . . . Twice he looked up at Fudge and opened his mouth to speak, but his swollen heart was now constricting his air passages and both times he merely took a deep breath and looked back down at his shoes. Then the whispering stopped. Harry wanted to look up at the judges, but found that it was really much, much easier to keep examining his laces. Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges? ' said Madam Boness booming voice. Harry's head jerked upwards. There were hands in the air, many of them . . . more than half! Breathing very fast, he tried to count, but before he could finish, Madam Bones had said, And those in favour of conviction? 'Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the witch on his right and the heavily-moustached wizard and the frizzy-haired witch in the second row. Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, Very well, very well . . . cleared of all charges. 'Excellent,' said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feel, pulling out his wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. Well, I must be getting along. Good day to you all. 'And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon. J. K. RowlingHarry Potter&The Order of the Phoenix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lionfish 11/Nov/2007 Chapter Nine The Woes of Mrs. WeasleyContents Prev Chapter Next Chapter . Dumbledore's abrupt departure took Harry completely by surprise. He remained sitting where he was in the chained chair, struggling with his feelings of shock and relief. The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking, gathering up their papers and packing them away. Harry stood up. Nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, except the toadlike witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of at Dumbledore. Ignoring her, he tried to catch Fudge's eye, or Madam Bones's, wanting to ask whether he was free to go, but Fudge seemed quite determined not to notice Harry, and Madam Bones was busy with her briefcase, so he took a lew tentative steps towards the exit and, when nobody called him back, broke into a very fast walk. He took the last lew steps at a run, wrenched open the door and almost collided with Mr. Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking pale and apprehensive. Dumbledore didn't say-'Cleared,' Harry said, pulling the door closed behind him, of all charges! 'Beaming, Mr Weasley seized Harry by the shoulders. Harry, that's wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't-'But Mr. Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had ust opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out. Merlin's beard! ' exclaimed Mr. Weasley wonderingly, pulling Harry aside to let them all pass. You were tried by the full court? 'I think so,' said Harry quietly. One or two of the wizards nodded to Harry as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, Morning, Arthur,' to Mr. Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Cornelius Fudge and the toadlike witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr. Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, the witch looked almost appraisingly at Harry as she passed. Last of all to pass was Percy. Like Fudge, he completely ignored his father and Harry; he marched past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, his back rigid and his nose in the air. The lines around Mr. Weasley's mouth tightened slightly, but other than this he gave no sign that he had seen his third son. I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news,' he said, beckoning Harry forwards as Percy's heels disappeared up the steps to Level Nine. I'll drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on. . . . 'So, what will you have to do about the toilet? ' Harry asked, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed five times funnier than usual. It was starting to sink in: He was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts. Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx,' said Mr. Weasley as they mounted the stairs, but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one-'Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face. The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face. Well, well, well . . . Patronus Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy coolly. Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater. The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,' drawled Mr. Malfoy. Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. . . . Snakelike, in fact. . . 'Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning. Yeah,' said Harry, yeah, I'm good at escaping. 'Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face. And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur? 'I work here,' said Mr. Weasley curtly. Not here, surely? ' said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. I thought you were up on the second floor. . . . Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them? 'No,' Mr. Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder. What areyou doing here, anyway? ' Harry asked Lucius Malfoy. I don't think private maters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,' said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us. . . . Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister? 'Certainly,' said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. This way, Lucius. 'They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift. Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together? ' Harry burst out furiously. What was he doing down here? 'Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,' said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again. 'What private business have they got together, anyway? 'Gold, I expect,' said Mr. Weasley angrily. Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years. . . . Gets him in with the right people . . . then he can ask favours . . . delay laws he doesn't want passed. . . Oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy. . . . 'The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably. Mr. Weasley,' said Harry slowly, if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him? 'Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry,' said Mr. Weasley quietly. But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment-which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort. . . . Best not talk about it any more just now, Harry. . . . 'The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered. Wait. . . . ' he told Mr. Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain. He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues' feet. I knew it! ' yelled Ron, punching the air. You always get away with stuff! 'They were bound to clear you,' said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, there was no case against you, none at all. 'Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,' said Harry, smiling. Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: He got off, he got off, he got off-'That's enough! Settle down! ' shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry-'What? ' said Sirius sharply. He got off, he got off, he got off-'Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know. 'Absolutely,' said Sirius. We'll tell him, don't worry. 'Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner-'He got off, he got off, he got off-'That's enough-Fred-George-Ginny! ' said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast. . . . 'Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise. ' Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,' said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates. Yeah, he swung it for me,' said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me. 'And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it. . What's up? ' said Hermione, looking alarmed. Scar,' Harry mumbled. But it's nothing. . . . It happens all the time now. . . . 'None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know. 'I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. He's really very busy at the moment. 'HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF. HE GOT OFF-'SHUT UP! ' roared Mrs. Weasley. Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them. Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak. Don't you go feeling guilty! ' said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish. 'That's a bit harsh, Hermione,' said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prise off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company. 'He'll have company! ' said Hermione. It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him. 'I don't think that's true,' said Harry, wringing out his cloth. He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could. 'He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more,' said Hermione wisely. And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together. 'Come off it! ' said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged. Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron s mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry. 'So you think he's touched in the head? ' said Harry heatedly. No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,' said Hermione simply. At this point, Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them. Still not finished? ' she said, poking her head into the cupboard. I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break! ' said Ron bitterly. D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here? 'You were so keen to help the Order,' said Mrs. Weasley, you can do your bit by making Headquarters fit to live in. 'I feel like a house-elf,' grumbled Ron. Well, now you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S. P. E. W. ! ' said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs. Weasley left them to it. You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time-we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S. P. E. W. , it would raise awareness as well as funds-'I'll sponsor you to shut up about spew,' Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry could hear him. Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed, though Harry was careful not to say any of this within earshot of Sirius. The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal) and nobody, not even Sirius, seemed to feel that Harry needed to know anything more than he had heard on the night of his arrival. On the very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwig's owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes. Booklists have arrived,' he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this. . . . 'Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Ron's head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. He then opened his letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year. Only two new ones,' he said, reading the list, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk, and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard. 'Crack. Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair. We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book,' said Fred conversationally. Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said George. And about time too,' said Fred. What d'you mean? ' Harry asked, jumping down beside them. Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,' Fred told Harry, and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year. 'Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four? ' said George. One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months,' said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. Yeah, I see what you mean. 'What's up with you, Ron? ' asked Fred. Ron did not answer. Harry looked round. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts. What's the matter? ' said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment. Fred's mouth fell open, too. Prefect? ' he said, staring incredulously at the letter. Prefect? 'George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand and turned it upside-down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm. No way,' said George in a hushed voice. There's been a mistake,' said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect. 'The twins' heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry. We thought you were a cert! ' said Fred, in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way. We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you! ' said George indignantly. Winning the Triwizard and everything! ' said Fred. I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him,' said George to Fred. Yeah,' said Fred slowly. Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right. 'He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look. Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the prefect. . . 'Oh, Mum's going to be revolting,' groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him. Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P' was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts. The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand. Did you-did you get-? 'She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek. I knew it! ' she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. Me too, Harry, me too! 'No,' said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. It's Ron, not me. 'It-what? 'Ron's prefect, not me,' Harry said. Ron? ' said Hermione, her jaw dropping. But . . . are you sure? I mean-'She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his lace. It's my name on the letter,' he said. I. . . . ' said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really-'Unexpected,' said George, nodding. No,' said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, no it's not . . . Ron's done loads of . . . he's really. . . 'The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes. Ginny said the booklists had come at last,' she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing.Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing . . . what colour would you like? 'Get him red and gold to match his badge,' said George, smirking. Match his what? ' said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile. His badge,' said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. His lovely shiny new prefect's badge. 'Fred's wrds took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation with pyjamas. His . . . but . . . Ron, you're not. . . ? 'Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's. I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family! 'What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours? ' said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son. Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh, Ronnie-'Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.Mum . . . don't . . . Mum, get a grip. . . . ' he muttered, trying to push her away. She let go of him and said breathlessly, Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course. 'W-what do you mean? ' said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears. You've got to have a reward for this! ' said Mrs. Weasley fondly.How about a nice new set of dress robes? 'We've already bought him some,' said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.