DPASW: The Foundation of Power

The Philosopher's Prophecy

"Mister Potter!" Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall glared down at Harry in front of the main Hogwarts gates. Her lips were one thin line. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea the worry you caused when you just disappeared after the trial like that?"

Harry's face took on the look of the mildly curious. "No, I do not. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Your parents were greatly concerned when no one could say where you'd gone."

Harry snorted.

"So?" McGonagall asked, looming over Harry as only a middle school teacher can. "Where have you been?"

"I was in Diagon Alley."

"What for?"

"Shopping."

"Shopping for what?"

"A new set of robes so I can appear in your classroom like the tidy and responsible young wizard I am. It seems the ministry won't be returning the ones the DoM took as evidence until it passes through three sets of departments and gets stamped in triplicate ."

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to be cheeky, Mister Potter?"

Harry's voice became so dry it could soak up an ocean. "No, Professor. I'm sure I'd do a better job of it if I actually tried."

"Detention, Mister Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

"Get along to your common room."

"Yes, Professor."

— DP & SW: TFoP —

"—And then Bole tried to bully me into siding with him against Keendle, but Keendle had already told Richardson that I'd told him about the business with Parkinson, and then Gibbons and Carthile started threatening to blow the whole thing open if I didn't side with them against Keendle, but they still refused to have anything to do with Bole because of that time before Christmas!" Tracey was slouched in one of the armchairs near the Slytherin throne in the Slytherin common room, half on and half off, glass of pumpkin juice in one hand, hand over tired eyes with the other.

Daphne and Hermione listened attentively, sitting opposite their friend in the unofficial student throne of the Gray and a small sofa respectively. The general hubbub of the common room washed around the small Gray grouping.

Tracey swigged back her drink in a most un-lady like fashion before reaching for the ceiling with both hands. "I mean, come on!"

Daphne smiled to herself. Oh, the joys of leadership. One thing she hadn't missed much during their seven week evacuation. She leaned forward. "But you did solve it."

"Oh, I solved it, sure, but it took so much stupid stuff."

"Welcome to the world of politics."

Tracey eyed her like a drowning man eyes another, more buoyant looking, drowning man. "Well, you can keep it, Daph — it's all yours again."

"As you wish, Miss future Lady Davis."

Tracey groaned. "Please don't remind me. I don't know how you and Hermione find the energy to do all the stuff you do on top of all the political stuff we have to worry about." She straightened on her chair. "Now, are you going to tell me what the hell happened at the trial? And why isn't Potter back yet if he got off?"

Daphne gave a small wry smile. "We'd have told you earlier, if you hadn't immediately decided to unload on us."

"Well, I'm sorry!"