HP and the Price, part 12 (Patreon)

“I’m going to kill those two.” Molly dabbed the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t believe her sons were being investigated by the Aurors. Her sons. Where had she gone wrong?

“Now Molly, you and I both know that they are working to protect Albus and his position,” Arthur offered as he handed her the basket of eggs. Molly started cracking them into the pan. The Aurors’ visit had interrupted breakfast, although Ron and Charlie weren’t stirring yet.

“Albus has no right putting the twins in such a position,” Molly said fiercely. She had already lost her little girl. She didn’t want to lose another child, but now the Aurors were investing Fred and George for assaulting students. Assaulting. They could get time in Azkaban for that. A band of pain tightened around her heart.

“The twins are old enough to make their own choices.”

Molly slammed her wand down on the counter. “They’re making wrong choices.”

“Molly,” Arthur said, his voice soft with condemnation.

Molly wilted. “I know people have to fight You-Know-Who, and I’ll put my own wand in that fight, but these are my children. I can’t risk another. Not after Ginny. Not after Hermione.” Hermione had first appeared at the Burrow as Ron’s friend, and had then grown closer to the twins as Molly had absolutely forbidden Ron to get involved in Albus’s shenanigans, but she had become another daughter to Molly. At one point, she had thought either Fred or Ron might court her. She was a powerful witch, and Molly knew how power attracted power. But now her second daughter was also lost to this war.

Her two brothers, her two daughters, and now her twin sons were wanted for questioning. Molly had lost too much.

Arthur leaned against her back and wrapped his arms around her. The comfort allowed a small sob to escape. “I can’t lose them,” Molly confessed. She knew the importance of winning this war, she knew she would lose all her children if the Light lost to Voldemort, but still she wanted to gather her children up and shield them.

“There are strange rumors at the ministry,” Arthur said, likely to distract her.

“Oh?” Molly feigned interest.

“Over a dozen people who disappeared during the first war with You-Know-Who have all reappeared.”

Molly whirled around so she was nose to nose with her husband. “What?” If those who vanished could return, there was still hope for Ginny and Hermione, and others like the Longbottom boy.

Arthur nodded. “There are whispers that the Fae are involved in the return.”

“Fae don’t get involved.” While most of the Light families avoided the Fae because courting them came with a certain risk, the Prewetts had never forgotten the Fae rites. She knew what was required to ask for a blessing or a boon, and when the children had been younger, she’d even led them in a few Fae ceremonies. So she knew far better than Arthur that the Fae would never get involved with human politics.

“Still, there are rumors. I heard from two different sources that the group that rescued the victims had Fae wands.”

“Ceremonial wands look just like Fae wands,” Molly pointed out.

Arthur leaned closer. “They fought with Fae wands,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.

Molly’s eyes grew large. No ceremonial wand would work in battle. If witnesses saw jeweled wands in battle, the Fae might have chosen a new champion. Hope planted a seed in Molly’s chest. If the Fae were involved, maybe she wouldn’t have to sacrifice any more children to this war. She would far rather fall in battle herself that suffer the pain of losing another child. Perhaps it was time for her to renew her own vows to the Fae and offer her life for her children’s.

She still had the ceremony she’d taught Lily Evans so long ago, and she had proof that it had worked, even if Severus Snape had betrayed them all by killing the poor boy after he’d survived the killing curse. Yes, that’s what she would do. She looked at Arthur—so proud of having distracted her from her grief.

And she would never tell him. If the Fae claimed her life, he would still have his children to rely on. She could count on them to support their father. But as their mother, it was her job to make sure no more Weasleys were lost to this war. She felt better now that she had a plan.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vilince leaned back in his favorite chair and considered Albus. The man hadn’t changed in the twenty years Vilince had been missing. Albus looked the same, his gaze had the same sharpness, his fashion sense was just as abominable. In fact, Vilince thought he recognized the orange and yellow monstrosity Albus had worn today.

“I do wish you would take up the mantle again,” Albus said. He had polished his best facade of disappointment, but Vilince didn’t intend to fall for the manipulation.

“I have to get my house in order, Albus. I’ve been gone so long that I didn’t recognize my own grandchildren. I think that is more important than Minister Fudge.” Vilince never thought he would encounter a political leader with fewer skills than Minister Iswatch, but Fudge had exceeded every expectation of incompetence.

“I expected you to understand the critical nature of having good people working in the ministry.” Albus glanced out the large windows. Vilince didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. His wife and daughter had made their own positions clear, and he suspected Vesila would have her children playing in sight of those windows, not only for Albus’s benefit but for his own. She would want to make it clear what Vilince had to lose if he rejoined this fight.

“Has He Who Must Not Be Named made any moves yet?” Vilince asked. During the first part of this war, Voldemort had mercilessly targeted muggleborns and muggles and anyone who didn’t agree with Death Eater policies. This time, the monster seemed to be taking the subtle approach. Other than a dozen Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban, nothing had happened. As far as Vilince could tell, most wixen didn’t even believe Voldemort had returned.

The average intelligence of the wizarding community had not significantly risen.

Dumbledore sighed. “He has grown cautious after his failure. However, do not doubt that he will make his move.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Vilince said.

If anything, Dumbledore looked more disappointed. “More than ever, the ministry needs competent people. If you returned, many of those rescued from Voldemort’s prison would return to their jobs.”

“That is the best reason for me to stay home. They should not feel pressured to return when they have lives to rebuild.” Vilince was lucky that his wife had waited. She had believed he was dead because the family tapestry reported that he was dead, but she had not wanted to take another to her bed. However, he knew a few others had returned home to find that spouses had moved on and in one case, that a beloved child had died. These people needed time—not Albus’s pressure to return to work, even if Albus was right that the ministry was incompetent.

That earned another sigh from Dumbledore. “Your report to the Aurors was lacking in details. Some in the Wizengamot hoped that you would be more willing to share details with me.”

“Some in the Wizengamot?” Vilince was no fool, even if the rest of the wizarding community apparently was. Albus wanted information. And while Vilince might be willing to share it, depending on what he wanted to know, he didn’t appreciate the heavy hand of manipulation Albus employed. Even the twinkle in Albus’s eye was nothing but artifice.

Albus pursed his lips and put his amusement on display. “Perhaps I was also curious. When you were rescued, did you, perhaps, run across a young Mr. Diggory or Miss Delacour?”

Vilince blinked. That was an oddly specific question. “No.”

All emotion vanished from Albus’s face. “No?”

“No.”

Albus frowned. “I had sent them to that cave to retrieve an item of inestimable value.”

“Be that as it may, I did not see those two individuals.”

Albus appeared to require some time to regroup. Clearly Diggory and Delacour were important to him, for for that, Vilince felt sympathy because anyone in that cave before Lord Potter’s group arrived would have fallen to Voldemort’s army of inferi. “Then who was in that cave?” Albus asked.

“I have given my full statement to the Aurors. If they have chosen not to share with the Wizengamot, that is their choice.”

Albus’s voice rang with power. “Two of my people were trying to recover an object Voldemort hid in the cave. I need to know if they were there. I do not have time to cater to the obstreperous personalities in the ministry. Mr. Diggory and Miss Delacour deserve more than to disappear because members of the ministry believe that ignoring danger is a legitimate defense.” Albus usually hid his darker emotions, always playing at being unflappable. However, this was the wizard who had defeated Grindelwald.

“Albus, I wish I could help you, but I can’t. Lord Potter led the group that rescued us.”

Albus grew absolutely still. “Lord Potter?” He asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Vilince narrowed his eyes, wishing he could open Albus’s head and look within. Why would Lord Potter’s name cause such a strong reaction? As far as Vilince could tell, he was a well-raised young man, even if he did have odd alliances. Some would call him wise for aligning himself with families that had traditionally opposed his own. “Yes, Lord Potter led the rescue party, although he had a number of allies with him.” Vilince studied Albus.

“Are you sure it was Lord Potter?”

“I never met the young man, but I often saw young James when he came to the ministry with his father, and the newest Lord Potter greatly resembles both James and Fleamont. I have no reason to doubt his identity.”

Albus touched his forehead. “Did he have a scar? A lightning bolt-shaped scar? Right here?” Albus sounded flustered.

“I believe so,” Vilince agreed. “I was rather distracted by the charred remains of an inferi army, but I seem to remember a scar.”

Albus leaned back, his face white. “We had believed him dead.”

“The world believed me dead. I have found that perception and reality do not always align.”

Albus visibly gathered himself. “Do you have the names of these allies of his?”

Vilince wondered if he was choosing a side in providing that information. Voldemort was not a problem to be solved politically, no matter what Albus believed. Defeating him would require a duel if not an all-out assault, and Lord Potter and his allies had more power than Albus. Their wands were clearly Fae. Any human-built wand that looked like that would be useless. It wouldn’t channel power; it would gather it in the gem and then explode. That’s why ceremonial wands were used only to light the fire on high holidays like Ostara. However, for the same reason, none of them could count on Lord Potter. He was clearly allied with Fae, and that—by its very definition—meant that humans could not count on him or the Fae to solve human conflict.

“The heirs of the noble houses of Longbottom, Carrow, and Nott.”

“Longbottom?” Albus pounced on the name. “A young man with a round face?”

“I would not say the shape of his face was his most significant feature.” In fact, Vilince was more taken with Longbottom’s noble stature and his calm strength. “However, once one has felt the deep well of Longbottom magic, one tends not to mistake it. Heir Longbottom radiated that familial magic. That is why I know the young man with Lord Potter was a Longbottom, although they may have lied about him being the heir.” Of course, there was no reason to lie, but Vilince could admit the possibility.

Albus stroked his beard. “I had mourned that young man as one of Voldemort’s victims.”

“Clearly not. The boy is Fae-touched, and even the Dark Lord cannot challenge the Fae.”

Albus blinked at him, his shock written on his face. Vilince had never managed to create such consternation in the past. “Fae touched in fact or in assumption?”

“They used what appeared to be ceremonial wands to defeat an entire army of inferi. I would call that Fae touched in fact.” If they had that much power without the assistance of the Fae, Vilince would recommend unconditional surrender and crowning Lord Potter as the new wixen king. The Fae had to restrain those they gifted raw power because no human could. And Fae interference would be the only power that could stop Lord Potter and his allies.

“And the heirs to Carrow and Nott were allied with Longbottom and Potter?”

“I know, unexpected,” Vilince agreed. “Unless I have lost my ability to spot shifting alliances, I would say that Heir Nott is well on her way to becoming Lady Potter.”

“Lady Potter?” Albus sat up. “Old Nott’s heir is his son—Theo Nott.”

“Thea Nott is many things, but she is not a son.”

Albus shot to his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality. Welcome home, old friend.” And with that, Albus rushed to the floo without a backward glance. Vilince definitely planned to avoid politics for now because there were deep waters and undercurrents he did not recognize. He only knew that when the Fae got involved, the wizarding world often had to embrace change, no matter how painful.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dolores stormed down the corridor to Minister Fudge’s office, her heels clicking against the stone floor. He would not stand for the disrespect. She represented the ministry and she would not allow anyone to make a fool of her or the office of the minister. The office stood between the wizarding world and chaos. No one understood that. No one.

She knocked on Minister Fudge’s door and entered before he answered.

“Dolores,” he said, clearly startled.

“Minister Fudge, I require the assistance of more Aurors.”

“More?” he looked alarmed. “Why do you need more?”

Dolores took a breath and smoothed her hair before continuing. “When I attempted to arrest that half-giant, Dumbledore came back onto the grounds and blocked the men you sent. He undermined my authority, and the Aurors refused to arrest Dumbledore. Worse, he refused to return to Hogsmead. We agreed he would stay off the school grounds until I finished his evaluation, but after he blocked the Aurors, he returned to his office. He is still in there. I need a unit of Aurors to drag him out. He is not fit to lead the school.” She took another breath and waited. The minister would side with her.

Minister Fudge wrung his hands. “Dolores, you have to understand that Dumbledore still has a lot of support.”

“He has made a fool of us both with his ridiculous claims that You-Know-Who has returned.”

“Well, he really only said that once. Since then, he has said only that he could return or might have returned. We can’t arrest a man because of a ‘might,’ especially not a man like Albus Dumbledore. He has too many friends.” Cornelius offered her an apologetic smile.

Dolores stiffened her spine. “Am I or am I not High Inquisitor?”

“Of course you are, Dolores,” Fudge assured her. “I don’t know what I would do without you, and your work at the school has been top notch. You are doing an excellent job of making sure the curriculum has been been returned to its previous glory. Top notch. Absolutely.”

Dolores narrowed her eyes. She knew the minister well enough to recognize prevarication. “Then why will you not drag that man out of Hogwarts? He interfered with my authority as High Inquisitor.”

“I need you back here at the ministry, Dolores, and if you’re here, someone has to run Hogwarts.”

“I would be best able to serve this ministry from the Headmaster’s office,” Dolores said firmly. The hand that guided the next generation steered the ship of state. She understood now how Dumbledore had amassed such a network of support, and once she controlled Hogwarts, she would dismantle that support piece by piece. Dumbledore would be left a broken old wizard without a knut to his name or a supporter to listen to his ridiculous stories.

“A few families have requested that you not return next school year.” Cornelius refused to look her in the eye.

“Malcontents. Vermin. If those parents want to remove their children from Hogwarts, the school will be better for it.”

“Lucius is furious that his son was badly burned.”

“I expelled those horrible Weasley twins. I’m sure they set that trap. I cannot be responsible for their parents’ inability to teach those hooligans right from wrong.” Dolores trembled with rage at the thought of those two. She had thought that once Granger was gone that the twins would settle down and begin to act like proper wizards. Instead, they had gone mad. They had sabotaged her work, and none of the teachers had the backbone to discipline them. Cowards. They were all cowards. Dolores had to do everything herself because McGonagall and Vector and the others were so afraid of attracting the twins’ ire. Both Weasley boys should be in Azkaban.

“The Greengrasses and the Carrows say they fear for their daughters’ lives after all four girls spend so much time in the hospital wing this semester.”

“Again, the twins are gone.” Dolores stood a little taller. She would not have those two ruin her plans.

“Yet, after you expelled the Weasley boys, Vincent Crabbe lost his arm. His wand arm,” Cornelius said, horror in his voice.

Yes, that had been a terrible accident, but Dolores knew the twins had set that trap before they’d flown out the front doors of the castle. If the Aurors would have arrested them when Dolores first asked, Crabbe would still have his arm. “I can hardly be held responsible for the malicious pranks left behind by those two criminals.”

“You can’t blame everything on the Weasley twins. What about the disappearance of that Muggleborn student? She was the top student at the school, and she just disappeared. That looks suspicious, especially when you had scheduled her for detention the night before she vanished.”

“I never,” Dolores gasped. “Are you suggesting I did something to Granger?”

“No, of course not,” Cornelius rushed to say. “If I thought you bore any blame, would I ask you to return to the ministry? I know you’re not at fault.”

“I would hope you did know. After all, I wasn’t at Hogwarts when the Longbottom child or Theodore Nott disappeared. I wasn’t in charge when the disgusting little goblin teacher lost his leg or when the Riddle boy was hunting students. Where is all the outrage for the atrocities Dumbledore allowed on Hogwart’s grounds?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I know it’s not fair, but we have to deal with political realities. You know that, Dolores. Return to the ministry and let Dumbledore take the blame as Hogwarts continues to descent into rampant hooliganism. When the parents are ready to throw Dumbledore out, we can install you as the new Headmistress of the school. No one will challenge your authority then.” Cornelius gave her a hopeful look.

“You’re asking a lot.” Dolores loved Hogwarts. She was fated to lead that school to greatness.

“I know. I will give you a free hand to handle your own schedule. I know there were a few pieces of legislation that you couldn’t get through before I asked you to handle Hogwarts. You could finish your legislative agenda before having to move to Hogwarts permanently.”

Dolores thought about it. That might be best. She could make sure the Wizengamot had the right tools to protect wixen from the disgusting half-breeds that were taking over, and then she could focus on future generations. “Fine, but I want a new office and a raise.”

“Done,” Cornelius agreed.