Whole New Worlds: A Fanfiction Archive

The Apprentices had gathered in the Entrance Hall just before eight. Dumbledore and McGonagall arrived first, along with Fudge, Percy Weasley, and three other men who were most likely Ministry officials that amounted to little more than Fudge's cheerleaders.

Tonks, Malfoy and what had to be Tonks' family arrived on Dumbledore and Fudge's heels. Directly behind Tonks and Malfoy was a couple in their sixties, or close to it. Tonks looked quite a lot like her mother, though Mrs. Tonks had perfectly normal more gray than brown hair, while Tonks' hair at the moment was neon orange. Mr. Tonks was looking about the entrance hall in amazement. He was Muggle, and even if he had been married to a witch for nearly forty years, Hogwarts was something to behold for anyone, Muggle or Wizard, for the first time. A woman in her thirties seemed to be nearly as awed as Mr. Tonks over Hogwarts. She had to be Tonks' sister, perhaps ten years older and a bit chubbier with chestnut hair and the same bright blue eyes as Mr. Tonks. The man in Auror robes beside Tonks' sister had to be the woman's husband, judging by the two boys about nine and five standing with them. Both had their mother's features and father's blonde hair; the older of the two boys had green eyes, the younger hazel.

The Parkinsons, or at least Harry assumed it was the Parkinson family, arrived next. Mrs. Parkinson looked like an older and faded version of Pansy with the same slightly pug-like features. The three girls with her looked like younger versions of Pansy, about ten, five and two years old. The ten or eleven year old girl looked scared of her own shadow; the two little ones clung to their mother's robes with nearly white-knuckled holds on the material. What Harry assumed to be Mr. Parkinson was a lean, hawkish, very cruel looking man far older than his wife.

"Millie, Pansy's moving awful stiffly. You might want to take some healing salve with you when you go on up to help her dress. Take Bruise-Ease salve at the very least." Harry raised up on his toes a bit to mumble quietly into the tall Slytherin girl's ear. He'd had enough beatings in his life, mostly inflicted by Dudley and his lot of thugs, to recognize the signs in another. "A touch of calming potion might not hurt either," he added. Pansy was pale and trembling, her eyes bloodshot and slightly maddened, she looked ready to collapse in hysteria or simply bolt with panic.

"Can I please punch that idiot?" Blaise leaned in on the other side of Harry, hissing in his ear. Draco was glaring at anyone and everyone. His face was a study in rage and arrogance, eyes hard and coldly furious. He kicked the poor House Elf that arrived to ask about serving a light breakfast for the first trickle of arrivals.

"Be my guest," Harry snorted, without even considering how odd it was for the group of them to be together whispering back and forth. Between the five of them--Luna, Blaise, Millie, Seamus and himself--they represented three Houses, two of which were traditionally bitter rivals. House allegiances had fairly well flown out the window this last week. While there was still a slight hint of suspicion between the Slytherins and Gryffindors of the Apprentices, they were all very aware of the fact they wouldn't have gotten through the past week without the others and were slowly working their way to friendship rather than just an alliance of necessity.

Mrs. Tonks grabbed Draco by the ear and ordered him to apologize to the defenseless creature. Draco tried hexing his mother's cousin. Tonks was quicker in defense of her mother and Draco keeled over, caught by a Petrificus Totalis hex.

"This is off to a lovely start," Seamus muttered, standing behind Harry. Neville had gone down to sit with Snape and Remus for the morning, as it had been decided that plan of action was the best for all concerned. The two men had already had their wounds tended and bandages changed that morning. Remus was improving quickly, as was normal for a Werewolf. Both men had had their potions and breakfast for the morning and were likely to sleep most of the morning away, thus allowing the close-to-cracking Neville a chance to rest a bit. Blaise had sorted out that Neville had been running on energy potions and less sleep than the rest of them in his determination to prove he was useful, and as a result the shy Gryffindor boy was approaching complete burnout from lack of sleep a lot quicker than the others.

"Absolutely brilliant," Luna muttered from the other side of Blaise with a rare flash of sarcasm.

"Idiot, Idiot's sister, the Twins and the Bookworm have spotted you." Millie nodded toward the next group of arrivals walking in the Hogwarts entrance. This group was primarily redheaded, with the exceptions of Fleur, who was all but painted onto Bill's side, Dean Thomas, and a rather stormy faced Hermione.

Harry swallowed nervously.

"Shit! That's Shacklebolt," Harry muttered, when he caught sight of the group that followed the Weasleys in. He recognized Hestia Jones as an Order member. There was a woman near Shacklebolt that he didn't know. Dedalus Diggle, Mad-Eye Moody and another man Harry didn't recognize were with him as well.

"Which one?" Seamus murmured, stepping a bit closer behind Harry.

"That one there, dark hair with the gray at the temples, about Mr. Weasley's age in the dark blue robes. Just to the left of Moody."

"Potter?" Blaise demanded.

"Luna, slip off and head for the kitchens. Tell Dobby that he's to get several house-elves to guard all entrances to the dungeon. No one goes down there but the five of us--with a password," Harry said quietly.

"Ygraine," Seamus interrupted.

"Ygraine's good for the password. Dobby and another elf need to stand guard outside Snape's door, and I'd like the Baron with them if possible. Snape's wards are so complicated, we don't know if they're set properly or not at the moment. Probably, since we've been unable to put any wards of our own on the room, but we can't be sure. And a portrait can be set on fire or hexed from the doorway more often than not. Shacklebolt would be more likely to know how to deal with Snape's wards than we are, after all, he's had to have been trained in wards and breaking them. Shacklebolt's an Auror, and seems to be using his position to try to get rid of anyone he disapproves of or something with the threat of Voldemort. Now, Luna. Move it. Quick, before Hermione and the rest get over here."

Luna gave Hermione a glare, then walked off with the latest edition of the Quibbler upside down in front of her face.

"That girl's either a complete idiot or she should have been in Slytherin," Blaise muttered, shaking his head.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing all cozy with bloody SLYTHERINS!"

"Hello, Ron, I'm fine, thanks. How are you?" Harry snapped back, with a glare.

"Really, Harry, what's gotten into you?" Hermione glared. "Talking to Slytherins, doing--this--this ... I can't believe you, Harry! Your mother was Muggle-born and you do something so discriminative and degrading to Muggles--"

"Do WHAT, Hermione? What? Learn about my family history? Agree to a program that just might keep me alive? What, Hermione? What have I done that's so terrible?"

"Oh, as if this is really going to be at all beneficial. After all, Neville is an Apprentice," Hermione sneered.

"When did you get to be such a bloody bitch, Hermione? The central focus of Apprenticeship is ancestral magic. Do you have any magical ancestors that could possibly qualify you for the study? The program isn't completely closed to anyone less than a pureblood--Seamus and I are in it. Seamus is a half-blood and I've a few muggles in my family tree as well, now don't I?" That was true enough, though fewer and farther back than most thought. " This isn't about any Muggle discrimination. You're just brassed off cause there's something you can't learn," Harry snapped back in a tight low tone. "And don't you dare go insulting Neville. He might not have perfect marks, but he's far from stupid and he has a very powerful talent with plants. The apprentice program accepts on talent and raw magical power, not memorization of text books, Hermione."

Harry felt slightly guilty the second the words were out of his mouth, but he was exhausted. Voldemort had woken him up after only an hour's sleep, and then Snape and Remus had both had nightmares. Seamus had slept through the injured men's nightmares, but woke up screaming and thrashing about himself--a glamour was covering the shiner Seamus had inflicted on Harry with a flailing arm during the course of his nightmare. He was not going to just--put up with this. He'd truly had enough of the whole 'Harry's a helpless idiot until we need him to fight the Dark Lord' bit from everyone.

"Where did Luna go?" Ginny asked hesitantly, trying to distract from the brewing all-out explosion. Though not willing to add her own opinion aloud, she did agree with Harry. Hermione in particular had been overreacting, and oddly at that, about the Apprenticeship.

"She decided to go read elsewhere since Hermione is usually unpleasant to her," Harry answered, without missing a beat. He could see Shacklebolt moving out of the Entrance Hall out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not going to bloody listen to squabbling Gryffs. C'mon, Millie," Blaise said, with a quick darting of his eyes in Shacklebolt's direction. He had no idea what had Harry and Seamus so concerned about the man, but if Harry thought he needed watching, Blaise decided it was probably so. It would give the Slytherin a chance to get a bit more of an idea of what the blazes was going on.

"Millie, remember what I said earlier about that flower," Harry said, with a slight nod at Blaise to indicate that he understood the Slytherin intended to keep watch on the Auror.

Millie snorted and nodded. Flower was a rather poor description of Pansy, but she got the message and would be keeping a sharp eye on her year-mate as much as she was able.

Harry glared at Ron, who had managed to stop gaping and was progressively turning from red-faced to purplish, building up a good rage. "Do not even start, Ron. There are injured here that need quiet. There are children here that have just lost their parents and refugees that are traumatized. This is Malfoy and Pansy's wedding day, and even if this is a farce of a wedding and you cannot stand either of them--you are supposedly a guest. You will bloody well behave and not act like a goddamned prat. If you want a piece of me it will be after the wedding and outside, not here where you are going to upset people who've already bloody well been put through enough."

"Petrificus Totalis!" Seamus pointed his wand at Ron. "Sorry, mate, but Harry's right. Not the time for a blow up of yours."

"Better watch yerself, Harry," Dean glared in Seamus' direction. "That lying freak's nothing but a faggot!"

Seamus blanched and went stock still next to Harry. Harry could almost feel the pain and fear coming off of the boisterous Irish boy. He reached up and put his hand on Seamus' shoulder, simply glaring at Dean. Seamus had been terrified of his friends finding out about his sexual preferences. Neither Harry nor Neville had been able to deny a likely initial blow up from Ron, as Ron seemed to blow up at everything that didn't fit his preconceptions, but Ron also usually came round eventually. Harry and Neville had both thought Dean would be all right; it seemed they were wrong.

Hermione glared and stalked off, levitating the petrified Ron behind her; Harry noted with a bit of amusement she didn't cast the counter-curse on him. Dean stormed off, and Ginny gave Harry and Seamus an apologetic look and ran off after him.

"Why do you have a tattoo on your cheek, Harry?" Fred, or maybe George, wanted to know. Harry could usually tell them apart, but at the moment he was too upset to even attempt it.

"Er, why's Dean calling Seamus firewood?" the other twin asked, very puzzled.

"It's a Muggle thing. About the equivalent of Mudblood--only used for blokes that fancy other blokes." Harry sighed. He gave Seamus' tense shoulder another gentle squeeze. "And the tattoo is from a protection spell my mum put on me just after I was born. The glamour that covered it, and the rest of the marks from the spell, was broken."

"Hermione will get over it in a few months," Fred began. At least Harry was reasonably certain it was Fred as he noticed the small scar from a Quidditch practice accident on the twin's jaw.

"You'll have to grovel a bit for insulting her," George interjected.

"But she'll apologize, accept your apology, and get over it, you know?" Fred continued.

"Ron just might never speak to you again, though," George finished.

"Well, sorry, but I've come to the conclusion that staying alive is more important than trying to please everyone's notion of how the hell the Boy Who Lived should be," Harry glared.

"Ah, Harry, my dear boy."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Professor Dumbledore ... Seamus?" Harry looked to the other boy.

"Yeah, I'm going there," Seamus nodded, knowing Harry was asking him to go check on Neville and the other two without saying as much aloud.

"Stay, okay?" Harry said willing Seamus to catch his meaning. Snape and Remus did need a bit more of a guard than Neville, House-Elves and a ghost.

"Y' sure?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah."

"Right, then. Bye Fred, George. Later, Harry," Seamus nodded to the twins and left.

"Harry, why don't you come to my office. There are a few things we need to discuss about your inheritance, as your birthday's only a few days off."

Harry nodded, relieved Ron was out of ear shot of the word "inheritance". He followed Dumbledore silently out of the entrance hall, slightly confused, as he hadn't thought he was going to talk to Dumbledore until after the wedding. However, the sooner the better. Besides, Molly Weasley was trying to make her way towards him and Harry wanted to put off that conversation until he was calmer. He really did like Mrs. Weasley, but considering the frame of mind he was in right now, any conversation with her mother-henning and clucking would go badly rather quickly.

"That little spat--serious?" Dumbledore asked, concerned by the rather volatile looking argument.

"Ron being Ron. Hermione being Hermione. Dean being an ar--er--jerk." Harry said with a shrug, barely catching his lapse of language in time.

"Mmmmm," Dumbledore nodded knowingly.

Harry gritted his teeth. His jaw was beginning to ache, and it was only eight-thirty in the morning.

"Severus is absolutely certain?" Dumbledore shakily asked some time later in his office, once Harry was through with his lengthy explanations of the goings on of Hogwarts the past few days. While Harry told his tale, Dumbledore had become paler and paler, and that annoying twinkle had dimmed out of existence. As frustrating and infuriating as Dumbledore could be with his twinkle and his cryptic nonsensical ramblings, it was unsettling to see him look so defeated and ancient.

Harry swallowed and gathered up a good bit of Gryffindorish courage. "Yes, he's certain, and what's more Sir,-- I --I'm not going to allow him to be interrogated about it. I can't believe I'm defending the greasy git, as many times as he's gone off and accused me of things I haven't done. This is different though ... this---I absolutely believe it. Shacklebolt also slipped off shortly after he arrived. He shouldn't be able to get into the dungeons, but he had no reason to leave the rest of the guests or to go anywhere but the Great Hall. Physically, I'm almost certain Snape's going to make a full recovery, as long as he puts his stubborn git streak into it. Thing is, his stubborn git streak seems to be broken. And no, Sir, it was not an accident, it was not a mistake of identity. It couldn't be. Those curses hit dead center of his hands, at close range. Whoever cursed him knew who they were aiming at and how to do the worst damage, psychologically as well as physically. Snape says it was Shacklebolt, so it was Shacklebolt; anyone attempting to grill him is going to have to deal with me--and probably Seamus and Neville too. And Blaise, Millie and Luna just because they'll stand with us. Blaise and Millie want to know what's wrong with Snape, but they're letting it lie right now. How long they will continue to do so, I can't say."

Dumbledore gave a weak smile; the children were working together admirably. The Headmaster knew Severus' "stubborn git streak" well; it had been the only explanation for Severus to be on his feet some days. He'd come to count on Severus being able to get through nearly anything in one piece. Obviously, there were things that even Severus couldn't easily overcome.

"Remus cannot return to the Order Headquarters for a while--there was an accident involving the twins' water balloons. Several balloons containing a potion called Silver Essence exploded as well as several balloons filled with silver dust," Dumbledore said cautiously, a long while later. In light of his new knowledge about possible treachery within the Order, he had to wonder if it had been the twins at all. Voldemort had timed his comeback well--Dumbledore was getting too old. All of this wore heavily on him. Severus was too distrusted and would never be able to have any sort of authority due to "common knowledge" that was more wrong than right. Harry was still just a boy, too young yet, but trying admirably to step up and do what he could.

"And, of course, no one believes the twins when they're saying they didn't do that."

"Yes, well..." Dumbledore began, but Harry cut him off.

"So in other words, Shacklebolt planned to frame Fred and George for Remus' murder. Wait, it wouldn't even be that, they really wouldn't even be fined. After all, accidental death of a Werecreature isn't even a misdemeanor offense thanks to the decree a few days ago. Those two, with all their pranks, often seem as if they have no common sense or restraint to many people. It certainly wouldn't be that hard to have people think they completely forgot about Remus' lycanthropy. Some would be quick to jump to the worst conclusion because the twins have pranked nearly every one they've ever clapped eyes on. Others wouldn't care one way or another, after all, what's one less Werewolf?" Harry said bitterly.

Dumbledore merely sighed at hearing his own thoughts voiced by the boy. The twins were thoughtless enough to cause such an accident, judging by their recent actions. And about those recent actions ... The rash of rather destructive pranks that had been occurring at the Order headquarters was disturbing. The boys lacked malice, and they would certainly never truly mean to harm Remus, but they could very well have done this out of their own lack of caution. Equally as likely, someone was actively trying to rid the Order of the "less desirables" in a subtle manner that would go largely unnoticed, or attributed to other parties. Although, when adding the silver-laced balloon contents with the Slow Flesh Decimation Curse cast on Severus ... a plot was certainly more likely than the twins' foolishness.

"Have you any idea how to explain Severus' injuries? We need something that will keep him at the school?" Dumbledore asked expectantly, with one of his annoying little knowing smiles and a bit of twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Why would he be sent off when he was injured due to a potions accident?" Harry asked tiredly, quite certain that Dumbledore had no less than a dozen ways to get about that particular catch given the very real possibility of Snape being injured while spying. It made no sense at all for him not to, and a potions accident was the most obvious and believable. Just the specifics of the supposed accident would be needed. "He was helping Neville brew a new fertilizer potion, and well, you know Neville and potions. It blew up and burnt Snape's hands badly. Whatever Neville did to make it explode is causing the healing of Snape's hands to be slow going, but if he merely has an assistant to do the majority of ingredient preparation and extended stirring of potions there's absolutely no reason he won't be able to teach this coming term. Snape's forgotten more about potions than the rest of the staff ever learnt, most likely. He'll certainly be able to handle his lecture classes and with an assistant for the practicals he should do fine."

"Discuss that with Professor Snape at his leisure, and send me an owl by tomorrow evening." Dumbledore nodded, causing Harry to wonder yet again if the Headmaster had heard a word he said. And just who did Dumbledore have in mind? Harry had the distinct feeling Dumbledore already had everything settled, and was simply waiting for them to come to the same conclusions. "Would Phoenix Tears be of any help? I am certain Fawkes would volunteer to help," the Headmaster asked.

"Later on, with the potions, I believe. I'll talk to Lady Ygraine about that when I have the chance," Harry nodded. Snape's care was going to continue to be left to Harry, Seamus and Neville, with Lady Ygraine's assistance, because they couldn't reveal the specific details. Not even Madam Pomfrey had been given the exact curse. She hadn't asked the specific curse, and Harry hadn't volunteered it, allowing her to assume that not even Snape knew for certain what he had been hit with in the chaos of the attack.

"Have you thought of what he's going to report to Voldemort?"

"The truth, more or less. He was hit by an unknown curse that did severe damage to his hands by the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt." Harry's green eyes met Dumbledore's challengingly.

"That will make Kingsley's family a target as well." Dumbledore pointed out carefully, wanting to see just how much of the ramifications of that Harry had thought out.

Harry swallowed and steeled himself. "Who's more important to the defeat of Voldemort? Snape or Kingsley's wife?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. "You're right. The younger son, Martin, is studying in Spain, I believe. The daughter, Elaine, is married and living in Australia. The eldest, Kingsley Junior, married an American Witch and they both teach at the Salem Institute of Magical Studies in America. You are, in a sense, going to sentence Kingsley to death--"

"He's tried to murder Snape, and possibly Remus, if the evidence we have is correct. He is a threat to the Order as it stands." Harry's voice was firm, but his stomach was churning; he could taste the bile at the back of his throat. He didn't like thinking like this. He didn't want to ever have to think like this. He didn't want to be the one responsible for Snape's recovery, or for quizzing Snape on a suitable teaching assistant, or to pass the information on to Dumbledore. He didn't want any of this. He just wanted to be normal--fat chance at that. He kept a grip on the rising panic and nausea. He could do this. He had to do this. Falling apart or losing the toast and egg sandwich he'd had for breakfast was not acceptable. One moment of any sort of weakness and it would be back to being treated like a bloody mushroom--fed a bunch of shit and kept in the dark.

Dumbledore's blue eyes searched Harry for a long moment. He sighed deeply. "I see no alternative either. Though it is hard for me to believe that Kingsley would move against Remus; they've always gotten along so well."

"Well, there is the possibility that it was a mess up of the twins. Doubtful but possible. Or..."

"There's another within the Order acting against us." Dumbledore frowned.

"Or someone controlling Shacklebolt. He was already an easy target since he hated Snape ... easy to bespell with either the Imperious, or some potion if they're regularly checking Ministry workers for the Imperious as Fudge claimed in the Prophet a week or so ago. If the first things he's being told to do are what he wanted to but wouldn't have dared to, it would be that much easier to gain control of him and slowly get him to do more." Harry mused. "But how would they check for the Imperious? That doesn't make a bit of since unless they 'Finite Incantatum' everyone at the time clock when they come to work. Probably just anyone one who doesn't agree with Fudge is checked, however they do it."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. The twinkle was back again, as maddening as ever. Albus Dumbledore was quite pleased that Harry and the others had managed so well the past few days. He wished he could postpone the inevitable for a good decade to give Harry a chance to mature, but the boy was showing remarkable level-headedness through all of this. He'd thought through the course of action as well as he could. He was also starting to see more than the black and white of Houses and childish grudges or preconceptions. And though it broke Dumbledore's heart, the boy was also proving he could see the strategy decisions that did at times put lives at risk, or place greater value on the well-being of one Order Member over another or a relative innocent. He wished Harry would never have to face such decisions ever, but there was no help for it.

Like it or not, Harry was going to be the one to take up the reins of the Order when Dumbledore was no longer able to do so. Harry did have good leadership qualities when pushed into a position where he had no choice to take charge, and was proving himself beyond all of Dumbledore's expectations. Dumbledore wanted the boy to be prepared as possible; he'd already made too many mistakes trying to shelter Harry. Now, he thought the best thing he could do was allow the boy to do as much as he could--supervised--with as much of a safety-net as possible. "Professor McGonagall said she gave you an Estate Manager's book as an early birthday present."

"Er, yes, sir," Harry said, confused by the abrupt change of subject for a moment. He'd had more than enough conversations with Dumbledore to learn not to be surprised by the shift in topics for no apparent reason.

"Wonderful. Wonderful. That will save a good bit of confusion once things are initially sorted."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore pulled a shrunken file cabinet from one of his pockets. "Here you are. You'll have to get to sorting this all out as soon as possible. Perhaps Professor Snape can advise you."

"Yes, sir, I'm sure having the opportunity to tell me what an idiot I am every five minutes while going through this will speed his recovery," Harry snorted.

Dumbledore smiled merrily and chuckled. "That's the spirit, my boy."

Harry carefully took the shrunken file cabinet, which thankfully was also charmed with a Feather-Light Spell, and tucked it in his own pocket.

"I am afraid you are the one who is the best choice to continue holding the Wards, Harry. Poppy cannot have the distraction, nor the taxing on her magical energy when she has a Hospital Wing of patients at the moment."

"And Snape and Remus are out." Harry sighed. "I can't very well refuse, can I? I mean who else would you have? Filch is a Squib and Hagrid can't use magic."

"You'll need to sort out some kind of improvised study schedule because Fudge is huffing and puffing about you Apprentices not being trained while this is going on."

Harry groaned.

"There is talk of new educational decrees and regulation of Apprenticeship. I don't believe he can do much, but it is best to have everything in order. You'd best hurry on and get ready for the ceremony."

Mrs. Weasley was laying in wait for Harry the moment he got past the gargoyle that guarded the stairs that led to Dumbledore's office. She grabbed his arm and spun him towards her. "Harry! What is that on your face! What sort of hoodlum are you becoming?"

"The rune tattoos are markings from the protection spell my mother cast on me as an infant; the glamour that covered them was broken," Harry answered tightly. "Are you going to start insulting her now?" He pulled his arm out of her grip.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young man! You--you start this indecent foolishness without a word to us..."

"What is so indecent about becoming an Apprentice? That you didn't know? Let's make sure all the details are sent by owl so they can be intercepted, and then let's have an attack staged on the group of Apprentices traveling to Hogwarts, shall we? I didn't have time. I got notice with the post, and then left before the next post day--even if it had been safe to send the news before I got to Hogwarts, I couldn't have." Harry snarled. "What's so bloody foolish about trying to learn what I need to know to stay alive?"

"Consorting with that--that FINNEGAN boy--" Mrs. Weasley huffed, outraged, shaking her finger at Harry.

"CONSORTING WITH SEAMUS? WHAT!!" He shouted in disbelief.

"Do NOT shout at me, Harry James Potter." Mrs. Weasley glared, hands on hips.

Harry clenched his fists at his sides. "Mrs. Weasley, I am not going to attempt to talk to you until you've calmed down. I'm sorry Percy is a git and you found out he married Penelope from the Prophet, but I will not tolerate being shouted at and punished for his actions. I cannot help that Narcissa Malfoy killed her husband and the Prophet broke the Apprenticeship news before I had a spare second to post you a note after I arrived at Hogwarts. If you want to rage at someone about the Apprenticeship program, Dumbledore's in his office. I am only trying to do the best I can and learn all I can to stay alive. And I will not listen to you insult Seamus simply because your other complaints aren't holding water. Good day."

Harry was rather proud of himself for not shouting or telling her to just bugger off and worry about her own kids instead of him. He knew she meant well and cared for him, but he was not going to take the heat for Percy getting married a couple days before Harry joined the Apprentice program. He stalked off, heading for the Apprentice's tower and leaving a very stunned Mrs. Weasley behind in the hallway.

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