Certain Dark Things || Book Five

liii. kneel

Harriet sipped her tea as she read the paper alone at the Slytherin table.

The winter holiday had come to a close, and while the rest of the students returned to the school aboard the Hogwarts Express, Harriet had once again been asked by Professor Dumbledore to arrive via Floo, so she'd come alone earlier in the afternoon. Those people who'd stayed over the break eyed her funny as she sat at her House table by herself, burying her head in the paper.

She counted it a blessing the loathsome Umbridge witch didn't sit at the High Table. As far as Harriet knew, Minister Bones had called her back to the Ministry.

They should find her a cell in Azkaban, she thought, teeth clenched, but she'd settle for the woman simply being gone for now. So long as Umbridge was far, far away from Harriet. She kept reading the paper.

Rita's article had resulted in a mixed bag of letters to the editor, which Harriet guessed to be good news. The Wizarding world could be rather intractable in their opinions, so it would take more than one speculative posting from Skeeter to make people believe Neville wasn't the Boy Who Lived. Thank Merlin. I don't need that kind of attention. Harriet exhaled in relief and turned the page.

The new Minister didn't outright say Voldemort had returned, and Harriet assumed Bones would only make things more difficult for herself if she did, though she'd been wishing for some form of transparency. Bones urged the public to view the recent disappearances and deaths as the work of a new terrorist and budding Dark Lord and to prepare accordingly. It was a step in the right direction, but Harriet wanted to strangle someone just to get them to admit it was ruddy Voldemort. Would that be so bloody hard?

Hermione's newest endeavor was investing in the media, per Mr. Malfoy's suggestion, using Elara and Harriet's gold to buy shares in the Daily Prophet and other circulating outlets, like Witch Weekly.

"Lucius says controlling the narrative is half the battle," Hermione had told her, ignoring how Harriet had lifted a brown and mouthed 'Lucius?' "Rita will behave herself if she realizes more than her freedom is at risk. She's fanatical about her work. Besides, it'll make things easier, won't it? If we're not having to fight public opinion every step of the way. They can't circulate lies if the shareholders refuse to fund it."

Harriet didn't tell her that sounded terribly close to something Slytherin would say.

Taking another swallow from her teacup, she kept reading. To her ever-lasting irritation, Gaunt hadn't done them the noble service of dwindling into the night and vanishing completely. He had no comment for what had happened at his ignominious defeat in the Wizengamot vote, but he did have plenty to say on Bones' suitability as Minister.

"Fear-mongering is a far greater threat to our society than a fictitious Dark Lord," the reporter quoted Gaunt saying. "I fear Madam Bones has succumbed to the paranoia often fostered in her former department. It may serve well for an Auror to constantly warn the public of invisible enemies, but not for a Minister. I worry for the state of our economy and the safety of our children if we are to be hindered by a perpetual state of lock-down and home-grown terror—."

"Fecking arsehole," Harriet muttered, lip curling. She glanced around to ensure Slytherin didn't hear her cursing, but that particular arsehole hadn't made an appearance in the Great Hall yet. She instead glanced toward Snape reading his own copy of the evening Prophet, then toward McGonagall chatting with Sprout. The air surrounding the staff seemed lighter than it had been in months, the High Inquisitor's absence like a festering wound that had been finally cleaned out and healed. Flitwick even laughed at something the Ghoul Studies' professor said.