Harry awoke with a start. A bolt of pain seared through the scar on his forehead and he bit back a gasp of pain. This was different from before. Through the pain, he realized that this was different. Voldemort was not angry. He was… happy? He shook his head, reached on to his bedside table for the glass of water, and drained it without pausing.
With a sigh, he looked over at the clock, saw the time, and wanted to hit something. "It's not bad enough the bastard's trying to kill me. The least he could do is let me sleep in peace at least one night a week!" thought Harry as he slid from between the sheets.
Fleur had not always been a light sleeper, but the bond meant that she was awake as well. Wandlessly, he cast a night-vision spell over his glasses and set them in place before moving towards the door.
Fleur let him have a few minutes to start before heading out to follow him. She knew the pattern of behavior well enough: raid the fridge, raid the liquor cabinet, or head down to the training room to turn something into matchsticks and kindling. After waiting for a few moments, she heard the faint sound of a door creaking.
"Kitchen," she thought and headed downstairs. Sure enough, he had his head inside the mammoth refrigerator, searching for something. Of course, he heard her footsteps and recognized them, and did not bother looking up from the contents of the fridge, where he was busy pulling out the ingredients for a sandwich.
Pickled cucumbers, pearl onions, some leftover roast beef - probably from Christmas under a stasis charm - along with mayonnaise and cheese. Fleur frowned ever so slightly at the sliced cheese. She still preferred to slice her own whenever possible. She shuddered at the thought of Harry discovering instant cheese whizz…
None of the Hogwarts professors seemed to be any wiser to the fact that Harry had spent precious few of his nights in the dorms as he alternated between using the Floo and directly apparating out of Hogwarts. His presence was not required because his demonstration had sent a very clear message. The "scar" that Professor Snape sported was enough to convince everyone that messing with any of Harry's friends was the equivalent of messing with Harry himself. Not even Draco was prepared to accept the possible repercussions.
She said nothing as he made the sandwich with practiced ease, cut it in half, and passed her half on a separate plate. "He is really happy about something," said Harry calmly as he took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.
"Voldemort has succeeded in achieving something then?" she asked quietly.
Harry nodded, "And we'll know what soon enough."
They passed the rest of the night in comfortable silence, neither of them able to go back to sleep, until about five-thirty in the morning, when the couple headed down to the training rooms of the Manor and went through their daily workout routine.
If it were not for the middle of the night disturbances that shattered his sleep with fair regularity, she found herself musing that they had found a very comfortable routine. She reflected that even Colin and Luna had adapted well to it, and found herself idly musing what it would be like, if they had a few more years, to settle down and make things, more… permanent.
The first weeks of the spring term were quiet and peaceful enough - at least within the Castle, it was quiet and peaceful. The students focused on their various classes as best they could until the Daily Prophet arrived that morning at breakfast, along with dozens of other owls. However, Neville's face drew Ginny's attention as he pushed his breakfast aside and smoothed out the front page.
"What?" asked Ginny, peering over her boyfriend's shoulder at the front page: Ten black and white photographs filled the page, showing the faces of one witch and nine wizards. Every picture showed a face filled with malice and insolence accompanied by a miasma of evil. If there was any doubt, the captions accompanying each picture dispelled that: They listed the names and the crimes committed which had earned them a life sentence in Azkaban, anywhere from fifteen to eighteen years ago.
Harry recognized some of the names almost immediately from his research into Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Antonin Dolohov, Algernon Rookwood, but the witch had caught Harry and Neville's eye.
She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, though he had seen it sleek, thick and shining. She glared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like Sirius, she retained vestiges of great good looks, but something ‐ perhaps Azkaban ‐ had taken most of her beauty. The caption said it all:
"Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom."
The headlines were no less comforting:
"Mass Breakout from Azkaban as Black Rallies Old Death Eaters to their Cause!"
The article outlined in detail that Minister Cornelius Fudge had confirmed the escape of ten prisoners from the high-security wing of Azkaban prison in the early hours of the morning and that the muggle Prime Minister had been informed and advised to take every precaution possible:
"We find ourselves, most, unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sinus Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached!"
Harry looked around the Great Hall. The students did not seem all that perturbed by this most recent development, but then, few of them read the newspapers and kept track of events in the wider world the way Harry and his friends did. Ten more Death Eaters had joined Voldemort's ranks, replacing some of the losses he had sustained over Christmas, and the students… he just shook his head in dismay.
He glanced up at the staff table. It was a different story there: Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once, her pouchy toad eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then, she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.
By the end of their first lesson of the day, there was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: The ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers and lead to all manner of rumors that ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.
There were many amongst the students who had lost family to Voldemort's first reign of terror, who now found themselves at the center of a rather gruesome sort of fame as their fellow classmates badgered and hammered them with questions as they walked the corridors and halls of the castle.
Harry had put a stop to it, politely, when someone had asked Neville about his parents within earshot of Harry. However, after a number of Ravenclaw had reduced Susan Bones to tears regarding the deaths of her uncle, aunt, and cousins, he had sent the most persistent offender, a Fifth-year Ravenclaw to Madame Pomfrey with matching black eyes. Truthfully, Harry would have settled for one black eye, but he recalled the offender as the same student who had sent a barbless arrow at him the previous year when he had made it into the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had quietly explained why two black eyes instead of one, "Next time. You lose teeth." Harry had said simply before letting him go.
Of course, that did not help matters for Harry, putting him back in the spotlight as the subject of muttering and subtle pointing. However, there was a difference in the tone of those whispered voices: They were curious rather than hostile. It seemed that the mood was shifting in his favor as more and more people began to question the Prophet's version of events: How do 10 inmates escape from the maximum-security wing of Azkaban? How could one person plan and execute the escape of so many?
More and more it seemed, people were starting to believe and accept the only plausible explanation: Harry and Dumbledore had been telling the truth and that Voldemort had truly risen. Fate, however, does not tip the scales in one direction without doing something to maintain a balance. It became a common sight to see several teachers having conversations in urgent, low tones throughout the castle. Always, these conversations ended the moment students drew close.
"It's obvious they can't talk in the staff room," said Luna, "Umbridge is no doubt hoping to overhear something."
"Reckon they know anything new?" asked Ginny, gazing back over her shoulder at the three teachers.
"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" said Harry. "Not after Decree… what number are we on now?" New notices had appeared on the house noticeboards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:
BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty‐six.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge,
High Inquisitor
This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class, "Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"
When Harry next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. Harry frowned. The bitch was at it again. Harry had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under the nose of her beloved Fudge. It seemed, however, to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least, to achieve a sacking and had clearly placed Sybil Trelawney in her sights.
Every single Divination lesson took place with Umbridge taking copious notes on her clipboard. She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Trelawney constantly with difficult questions about Ornithomancy and Heptomology, insisting that she predicted students answers before they gave them and demanding that she demonstrate her skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves, and the runestones in turn. Harry had quickly realized that Professor Trelawney was actually having a great deal of fun with Umbridge, making numerous predictions about hooves and weapons while giving off the faint odor of cooking sherry. "Maybe alcohol helps her see things better with that inner eye," thought Harry.
Umbridge had taken harsh measures in her desire to establish an iron fist over the staff and students alike. For Harry, it was clear that Hogwarts itself had little appeal anymore. He focused more and more of his time and energy on his Legion, and his students had responded admirably. No matter what year they were in, having ten Death Eaters whose loyalty had seen them face Azkaban over denouncing their allegiance had been the kick they all needed.
The Legion met regularly four nights a week in the Room of Requirement, and Harry said nothing of the small impromptu study groups that had formed focusing on every other subject from Charms and Transfiguration to Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies.
He only wished that he could get a full night's sleep instead of taking naps during his free periods and in the afternoons. While his scar had only prickled occasionally, usually during the night, or else following one of those strange flashes of Voldemort's thoughts or mood that he experienced every now and then. Nowadays, however, his scar hardly ever stopped prickling, and he often felt lurches of annoyance or cheerfulness that were unrelated to what was happening to him at the time, which was always accompanied by a particularly painful twinge from his scar. As if that was not bad enough, his dreams of that strange corridor were now in his dreams almost every night. Every time the dream ended with him standing in front of the same plain black door. He had discussed the matter with Griphook and Marinashka, neither of them could offer any real insights into the situation.
He had asked Marinashka one question: Why was Occulumency not helping to keep these dreams out of his head, especially since they were clearly coming from Voldemort. She had explained it, and he wanted to kick himself for overlooking the obvious: Occulumency protects the mind from external attack. The bond that Harry shares with Voldemort is a part of his mind, making it an internal connection. Occulemency would be of no help at all.
With so much to worry about, startling amounts of homework, and sessions with the Legion, January truly seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year on Valentine's Day.
They left the castle as a group and given that it was Valentine's the group split off into their respective couples, leaving Harry and the twins as something of an odd threesome. Fleur was stuck working at least half the day - not that Harry minded too much as he had made arrangements to meet certain individuals who happened to be on patrol in the village, one was officially a Ministry Auror, the other a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
The trio cut between two buildings, "Contact forwards!" muttered Fred noting the shadow detaching itself from behind a collection of garbage cans.
"Contact rear!" acknowledge George, as someone moved to block their line of retreat.
"My assigned shadows," Harry said in way of greeting.
"Not bad Potter," grunted Moody as he stepped into the light, to find himself facing one wand, while Tonks faced another. Harry had cast a shield over all three of them, "My partner received a House Elf with explanations on when and how to meet you," he said without preamble.
With a nod to the twins, they turned and cast a befuddling array of privacy charms around them to ensure that their meeting would go unnoticed. "Sorry it took so long to arrange this meeting," said Harry amicably, "But as you're fond of saying Mad-Eye, "Constant Vigilance!""
"You're developing a nice paranoid streak there," replied the scarred veteran approvingly, "But here's the situation: Voldemort is trying to get something from the Department of Mysteries. We don't know what, because Dumbledore is playing things close to the vest."
"And we're not sure how they've done it," said Tonks as she handed a file to Harry, "But you need to see it to believe it. Manpower is not going to be a problem for the Death Eaters anymore."
Flipping through the stack, keywords and phrases stood out at him and he was shaking his head. "…duplicates…near-perfect representations of their counterparts…..muggle science techniques…. Cloning…process is known as "Genetics"….perfectly obedient… loyal…" It went on and on like any typical Ministry document. "The short version is that they're making copies of themselves to bolster their ranks."
Despite the warmth of the sun's rays, Harry felt a shiver roll down his spine at the thought of thousands of Death Eaters literally overrunning the entire country "Is there a limit to who, or how many they can clone like this?"
"We honestly don't know," replied Moody, "But we estimate no more than half a dozen at a time." That meant at least a hundred, perhaps several hundred, Death Eaters were out there somewhere. Harry shuddered: The Core of the Legion could probably hold its own against any eight Death Eaters, but they would have stood no chance against twenty. How could they fight a hundred?
He met the gaze of both Aurors for the first time, "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked, "Not that I don't appreciate the help and all, but why?"
"I fought on the front lines, and I know how bad it got. But, I can see that this is going to get a damn sight worse. You and your friends are a lot better prepared than Dumbledore's Order ever has been. You once told Tonks that she had to choose a side: She's chosen. So have I."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, "I need all the help I can get." He reached inside his robes and fingered something, detaching two rings and handed one to each of them. "I'll be able to get in touch with you using these," he ran through their use quickly and the meeting ended with the Aurors going their separate ways, the three students split up. George and Fred were heading off to do some "market research and product testing". Harry wisely did not ask as he made his way to Hogsmeade Station.
One of the things he could not wait to be able to do legally was apparate instead of walk everywhere but as a hidden ability, he knew that it could save his life or another's in the future. He looked up into the cloudless sky, and then back down at the collection of documents. For what it was worth, he had an eye into the operations of the Ministry's Law Enforcement, and the Order of the Phoenix.
There are many ways to travel through the magical world, but it tended to be a trade-off between speed, distance, and destination. While the Floo could take you from one side of the country to another, it took the most time and anything further than that tended to require a portkey and would take even longer. Apparation was of course the fastest, depending on the distance traveled, but required that the exact destination be known to avoid accidental splinching. However, over shorter distances, most prefer to portkey when possible as apparation is time-consuming, and repeated "jumps" can be draining.
Of course, why bother to Portkey - which costs money - or apparate - which can be tiring - when you can simply take the Floo? Nearly every magical town or village had one, if not several, designated transportation points that allowed people to Floo - if there is a fireplace - apparate or portkey in and out without alerting muggles. These allowed wizarding society to blend in quite well with the muggle world. For most that is better than taking the Knight Bus.
Of course, Harry was convinced that he would never be able to step gracefully from the Floo and broke into a smile when Fleur stepped from the blazing green fire. Her smile literally lit up their surroundings.
He pulled her into a hug, "Missed you."
She laughed, "Don't understand how that's possible. After all, we woke up next to each this morning."
"Still missed you," he nibbled lightly on her earlobe and she pushed him away, playfully slapping him on the shoulder, "So what did you have in mind?"
Their plans were suddenly and rudely interrupted by a witch clearing her throat, a trademark "ahem-ahem" that made Harry growl as he turned to face the short, squat pink skirt and cardigan-wearing toad. "Something I can do for you?" growled Harry.
"Mr. Potter, I find that I need to discuss certain manners concerning the academic performance of Mr. Colin Creevy and Ms. Luna Lovegood." Harry's growl deepened and Fleur tightened her grip on his hand, "And as their legally appointed guardian…"
"Professor Umbridge," growled Harry, "I don't discuss family matters in public. You want to talk to me. You make an appointment with my attorney: Marinashka Thaz-Dom of Gringotts."
"I am a Professor and the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! You will show me the respect that I deserve…"
"I am showing you the respect that you deserve!" Harry held up his right hand, clenched into a fist, and showed her the back of it. The faint outline of the words was visible, cut into his flesh by his own hand, "You want my respect? Some start with my respect, others earn it. You," he growled, "like most of the mindless sheep inhabiting the castle, will have to do a lot to earn even a modicum of my respect!" Harry knew it was not a wise course to take, but when it came to this, woman, he had no doubt he could happily hex her into oblivion.
Realizing that any attempt she made to antagonize Harry would most likely backfire spectacularly, she retreated. Of course, she had half hoped that the boy would do something foolish, like an attempt to hex her. However, he was smarter than that. No. she needed to take out his power base, his only ally in the Castle, and then she could deal with Harry Potter.
Harry had planned nothing more complicated than some window shopping, perhaps a little real shopping, and he found himself, not for the first time, seriously considering whether to take a more permanent, corrective action. Fleur simply hugged him and whispered, "She's not worth the effort, or the trouble… even though I'm tempted to do something about her myself."
"Don't tempt me," he laughed, "So what would you like to do?"
"Well," she grinned at him, "Luna mentioned something to me. Have you ever heard of the "Hogsmeade Snogging Circuit?"" she licked her lips slowly, ever so suggestively, "I did not get to… take the tour when I was here last year."
Harry grinned, "I'd love to take you on that tour. But I've never been on it myself. I don't suppose you know the way?"
She had indeed found out the stops but had neglected to find out the "order" you were supposed to visit them in. Not that either of them was concerned about that as they started with Hogsmeade Station for about six minutes before they stumbled into the local branch of the wizarding postal service. After about five minutes of passionate kissing and teasing by Harry, who was running featherlight kisses along the nape of Fleur's neck, the twittering of the Post owls forced the young witch on duty to approach the couple, "Excuse me, but if you could go somewhere else? I'd rather not have a flock of hormonal teenage owls to deal with..." she nodded towards the half dozen Barn Owls watching the couple with avid interest.
"Never did like an audience," said Harry apologetically.
"For me… it depends on the audience." She laughed as Harry did a dramatic double-take, leaving the unfortunate post witch on duty with her mouth agape. "I'm not sure which is…que vous dit…worth more: Your face or hers."
Fleur claimed to have spotted a particular set of dress robes that she thought would look simply fantastic on her in the window of Gladrags Wizardwear. . He braced himself for the shopping spree but was surprised when all Fleur took was a set of dress robes and dragged him to the back of the store where the stalls were, before dragging him into one and locking the door, "Dieu! You tease me and expect to get away with it?" she pushed him back against the wall and kissed him, long and hard, letting her Veela allure loose on him. He broke the kiss and with a wave of his wand, had soundproofed and disillusioned, and setup a notice-me-not and privacy charms on the small booth.
She dropped the robes she had wanted to try to the floor and smiled, "Oops." There was something incredibly sensual as she slid down, almost grinding herself against his leg until she was on her knees. Harry's eyes widened in surprise as she deftly undid his belt and jeans, "You tease a Veela, you must be punished for it!" He had been on the receiving end of her skills on numerous occasions, but this! In public like this… even protected as they were by the battery of charms as they were. He opened his mouth to protest only to have his train of thought blown away as she took all of him with practiced ease, using her tongue and hands in that unique combination of skill and instinct only Veela possesses. It was not long before the couple left, Harry somewhat dazed by the experience while Fleur seemed perfectly at ease, comfortable with what she had done.
Of course, Honeydukes was packed cheek by jowl with students, and they realized that there was no real place inside. But Harry was determined to return the favor, winked and cast a quick few charms over himself, then Fleur, and lead the way down to the basement of Honeydukes. He grabbed Fleur and half carried Fleur into a shadow-filled alcove on the far side of the cellar and hoisted Fleur onto a wine cask. "Que est qu tu fait?"
He grinned and for half a moment, she actually regretted not wearing one of his shirts as a wandless warming charm kept them warm. His fingers glided down the center of her blouse and the fabric just, came apart beneath his touch, as he spoke between kisses that covered every bit of skin he revealed, "Just wanted to return the favor." He was not sure what it was about her that just gave him the confidence to just run with an idea, any idea no matter how crazy or off the wall it was - kind of like the idea he was running with right now. If it were not for the silencing charms, somebody would have probably heard her gasps and the cry of pleasure that Harry had ripped from her. Fleur was slightly flushed with her normally placidly tied back blond hair a disarrayed mess, while Harry was the nonchalant one.
They both sauntered into Madam Puddifoots a few minutes later and were both almost simultaneously repulsed by the frilly, almost tacky decorations. The lace and chintz tablecloths and drapes were bad enough. Then they both spotted the golden cherubs throwing pink paper confetti over the couples. It reminded Harry of Valentine's Day when Lockhart was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. The couple fled to the Three Broomsticks and vowed never to return to Madame Puddifoots together.
The Three Broomsticks Inn was the beating heart of social life in Hogsmeade and no matter the time of day or night, there was always someone and something going on. The mirror behind the bar reflected the warmth and cozy atmosphere and drinks. The drinks ranged from Butterbeer and Firewhiskey to Gillywater, mulled mead, red currant rum, and a selection of sodas with ice and cocktail umbrellas. There was no doubt that Madam Rosmerta ran a thriving business. He only wished he had a reason to come more often.
The couple took a table at the back of the Inn and ordered a drink each, "Need a little Pepper up Harry?"
Harry grinned at her, "I was about to offer you a Stamina Draught, but looking at you, I'd say that you're just… hungry for something more than lunch." For some strange reason, or at least he found it strange, this reminded him of their first date. He did not even know the name of that restaurant as he considered a salad for himself, "You giving up?" He had a certain roguish smile, "Or you hungry for more?"
Fleur only smiled as Madame Rosmerta came over to take their order, and Fleur ordered only dessert, "Two chocolate mousse." She raised an eyebrow suggestively at Harry and that settled it as far as he was concerned.
"Madame Rosmerta," said Harry politely.
"Please Harry," she said with a suggestive wink of her own, "Call me Rosie. All the men do." Fame perhaps, had its uses thought Harry.
Harry smiled back, "Just the men Rosie? What do the boys call you?" He was more than slightly aware of the number of students watching the conversation. Then again, 'Fame's a fickle bitch,' thought Harry.
"They call me Ma'am, or mistress - depending on how much trouble they're in!" she said with a laugh, "Now what can I do for you."
"Make that order to go would you?"
The last anyone saw of that particular couple that Valentine's Day, was when they left the Three Broomsticks, running to the Post Office to take the Floo.