Chapters 141-150

Making a List and Checking it Twice

Shacklebolt’s steps slowed until they came to a halt.

Searching offices wouldn’t be enough. But vague suspicions and dread without proof wouldn’t get results either. Damn it all to hell and back.

To mask his reluctance to proceed, he turned to the window on his left. It was Charmed, of course; it showed the Thames as it must have been once, long ago, on a summer afternoon before industrialisation set in. The broad expanse of shimmering water, peaceful river banks overshadowed by bright brushes and the darker silhouettes of trees seemed to taunt him, aware as he was of the real London outside with its dismal December weather.

Kingsley stared at the new and sunny perspective of the river before him.

A new perspective. That’s what I need.

And suddenly he knew. With the irrefutable clarity that had guided his political career from the Aurors’ Office to the Order of the Phoenix to the Office of the Muggle Prime Minister, and finally to become Minister of Magic.

He knew: It was a set-up. The murders of the Muggle-born witches and wizards. Maybe not the first or the second time—but the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and all subsequent killings. A set-up that would make desperate measures acceptable.

A white swan and a black swan drifted on the river before him, graceful and serene.

I brought this on them Shacklebolt thought. He stared at the sunlight that glinted on the river, dappled, rippling, golden-green flecks, as the light filtered through the leaves. And all because of one moment of pettiness and because I was too enamoured with my own cunning…

oooOooo

Shacklebolt knocked on the door, but he didn’t wait for her high, girlish voice to invite him in. He flung open the door and strode into the room.

‘Dolores, my dear.’

She sat at her desk, a stack of Muggle-fashion paperwork in front of her. Just for a second he saw her face without the mask of smile and simper. He almost recoiled and only caught himself at the last moment.

‘We have to talk,’ he said sharply.

The smile was back, too wide and too pink, and it did not reach her eyes. ‘I agree, Minister. There is much to discuss.’

She twirled her wand in her fingers.

oooOooo

‘Miss Petrel? I want to see you in my office after lunch.’

Alina stared at the looming figure of her Head of House and felt quite brave for not flinching, faced as she was with Professor Snape at his most forbidding.

‘Yes, sir,’ she squeaked.

A curt nod, and he strode away, black robes billowing.

‘Bat,’ Ebe grumbled.

‘Shhh,’ cautioned Geilis with a furtive glance at the High Table.

‘What does he want?’ wondered Haemon.

Alina wrinkled her nose. ‘I think I know.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I did so want to wait until I found all of the bells,’ she complained. ‘I was hoping he’d maybe even give some points to me. I bet the house-elves tattled.’

‘How many are still missing?’ Ebe asked.

The Little Knights had spent most of their free time during the last two weeks bell-hunting. An adventure that had turned out to be trickier than anticipated. For some reason everyone (teachers, prefects, and Filch’s damn kittens) appeared to be watching them 24/7 no matter if they were up to some mischief or not. It wasn’t fair. And when Alina had complained about it to Hermione, she’d only smiled and said that this was the price they had to pay for the fame they had acquired last year.

‘Just one,’ Alina replied. She didn’t manage to keep a sullen note from her voice. She had really wanted to impress her favourite teacher. And she was certain that presenting all the missing bells to him at once would have done the trick. ‘I haven’t discovered the password for the bell tower yet.’

oooOooo

After lunch, Hermione had some time to herself. She withdrew to her study in the dungeons. Once comfortably ensconced behind her desk, she spread out a piece of parchment in front of her. She placed the inkstand and the blotter within easy reach, controlled the pointy tip of her quill.

Then she took a deep breath. It was time to make a list.

Either she’d make a list and get a grip, or she’d panic and collapse, and stay in the Hospital Wing being plied with Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep by Poppy Pomfrey until everything was over.

Gryffindor, she thought. Know-It-All. What have you done during the last nine years when things were a mess like that? Right. You made a list, checked it twice, and started getting things DONE. There’ll be time for panicking and collapsing later.

So now you start with that damn list.

Plans for Christmas. Hermione sighed and put her quill down. Nothing could be further from my mind right now.