Chapter 32: A Hogwarts Emergency
NonsensicalRants
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Chapter 32:
A Hogwarts Emergency
Harry stepped out of the phone booth and into the main lobby of the Ministry of Magic. His newly won chest pin declared his purpose there to be "Prospecting." That cool, female voice in all of the ministry's facilities was one fun gal. Great sense of humor for a robot. He didn't understand why more people didn't come in through the visitor's entrance.
Instead, the many public sectors workers were rushing in and out of the fireplaces lining the wall, as usual. Bureaucrats. Always in a hurry, never getting anything done.
Harry marched past the tacky fountain and towards the check-in station with the shortest line and waited. Then waited. Then waited some more.
"Next." The man at the stand ordered.
Harry finally reached him and proffered his wand. He took it and placed it on the now familiar scale, which then produced a slip of parchment on the unused half.
"Professor Hadrian Morrigan?" The Auror confirmed.
"Yessir." Harry said politely.
"Premonition report?" He clarified further.
"Right again." Harry said.
"Department of Mysteris, level nine. Next!" The Auror commanded, handing Harry back his wand and the slip of paper.
Harry got out of the way and advanced through the turnstile and meandered through the crowd towards the lifts. Arriving in time to squeeze in, he packed himself into the sardine can with barely enough room left for the cage to close behind him. And down they went, stopping at each level to deposit and uptake more people. Unfortunately for most of the people there, the elevator had to go down one level before coming back up, as it was all automated. Which begged the question as to why they would bother to get on before it started to come back up, but these were wizards and witches after all.
And so, down one level they went before the bell dinged and the cool female voice announced their arrival.
"Level 9: Department of Mysteries and Courtrooms." She said.
Harry got off. The slick, familiar black walls greeted him like old friends as the lift went back up, leaving him alone in the hall. He took a deep breath, enjoying the musty yet somehow clean smell of the less often walked hallway. Then he marched straight on towards the door that once haunted so many of his dreams. Reaching it, he raised a fist to bang on it, only for it to open before he could.
Who should be facing but Prophecy herself. Head of the exact department he was looking for. Now wasn't that an amazing coincidence?! Almost as if she knew he was coming, but that would be ridiculous. That would require her to have precognitive abilities or something.
"Good evening Mr Potter." Prophecy greeted in a silly attempt at intimidation.
"Good evening Mrs Polkiss." Harry greeted back.
He felt her death glare and confusion from beneath her obscuring cloak just as clearly without Ghillie Dhu as if he were actually using the sixth sense. His poker face had gotten really good over the years, and he was somehow managing to maintain it in that moment.
"How... In the world?!" She asked.
Harry lifted both hands to his face and made spirit fingers.
"Psychic!" He whispered, dropping his poker face to grin at her.
The truth? He had figured it out in his own world. Hers was the only identity he ever uncovered, and then only because she suddenly appeared in Piers life as a retiree a day after Prophecy retired from the department. It was kind of her fault for telling him she just retired the day before as Mrs Polkiss and he just deduced it then. And now she accidentally admitted to it. He really ought to have picked on his world's version more, but after what Piers had gone through he left her in peace.
She sighed and reached one hand beneath her obscuring hood to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Why are you here, "Hadrian"?" She asked annoyedly.
"A student turned in a post cognitive dream and I would like to register it with your office." Harry said, now serious.
He handed her the letter and twine bound vial and she took it skeptically.
"Under what basis do you think it genuine?" She asked.
"A subject in the dream spoke perfect parseltongue, which the child in question could not." Harry explained. "Nor could he have faked it."
"I see." She said.
Prophecy then produced from within her cloak a clipboard with a form for dream visions.
"Name of dreamer, date on which the dream occurred, yada yada." She asked boredly with quill suddenly in hand.
"All detailed in the letter around the vial." Harry said.
She sighed, but diligently undid the twine and opened the letter. The way she managed to do this with a clipboard in one hand and quill in the other spoke to her many years doing office work. With all these things still in her hands - quill, clipboard, vial and letter - she then managed to hold a wand and tap the letter, casting a series of silent word duplication charms to copy all of the details onto her form. Pocketing everything except for the clipboard and quill she signed the dotted line and tore the page out to hand to him.
"Here. This form recognizes that I received the dream and the details you've shared with me. You will get a letter detailing our decision on its veracity by owl." She said curtly. "Did you need anything else, Professor?"
"No. Did you?" He offered.
"No." She said, before closing the door in his face.
"Give my love to Piers!" Harry yelled through the door, knowing it would annoy the woman to be left wondering how Harry knew her son.
Chuckling to himself, Harry folded the confirmation slip before pocketing it then went on his way.
The next morning saw Harry sleepily hiking through the castle to Albus's office, pensieve in hand. He made a wrong turn on the fourth floor and had to turn back, barely dodging peeves riding a flying wardrobe like a surfboard through the halls. He ignored the poor Ravenclaw boy chasing after the poltergeist. Presumably, he was the owner of said wardrobe. It could provide for a good learning experience in terms of the utility of sticking charms.
He finally arrived at the gargoyle to find it standing aside and the spiral staircase fully raised. He climbed it to hear the yelling match in progress.
"I only took this job because it was part time and didn't take away from my other responsibilities. I can do quidditch, flying lessons and game nights, but I can't run fencing, javelin or riding clubs as well!" Hooch explained.
"But you did agree to the possibility of taking on such responsibilities when you signed up." Albus pointed out. "And I have no choice but to hold you to them for the rest of the term, as I cannot hire two new people with the term just started. We already did all of our hiring and used up the allotted funds for the task."
"Then it may be wise for the rest of us to try and pick up the slack." Harry interrupted as he walked inside. "I, for one, am an excellent flyer and love Quidditch. I can handle those responsibilities. Beyond that? I'm sure Filius can handle fencing and Severus throwing weapons."
He put down the pensieve in it's normal, ornate cabinet.
"What makes you think Severus has any talent or skill with throwing weapons?" Albus asked.
"Psychic!" Harry whispered while making spirit fingers.
Albus and Hooch both groaned.
"Anyways, here's your pensive back. Now that one of my students had their first dream vision, I don't need to hang onto it. Future students can wait for your availability." Harry explained. "I figured you'd enjoy pensieve walking through the visions of distant pasts or futures."
"That does sound delightful. But back to the issue at hand, I do nor foresee Filius or Severus having the free time to take up lead roles in clubs. Those who can, certainly don't have the skill or talent in them. And while the ghosts go a long way towards ameliorating that, clubs do require a staff member with a wand there to supervise and intervene for injuries or prevent them. And such workers must be approved by the board of governors."
"Hm. then it sounds like it's time for me to take up my seat and call an emergency meeting of the governors." Harry said. "I'm positive that we can get the funding for three or four new wands on deck."
"What makes you so certain of that?" Albus asked.
"Because I can afford the expense out of pocket, if need be. But once many of them hear about their children's sudden interest in these ancient arts, they'll be all over it."
"And where are you going to find people with the free time to run school clubs?" Hooch asked.
"Gee, if only we knew somebody who ran a sanctuary for disenfranchised and unemployed individuals from a wide range of backgrounds to recruit from and network through!" Harry said sardonically. "Why, he could simply write to all of them with offers and they'd jump right on it, wouldn't they?"
The twinkling returned to Dumbledore's eyes in that moment. This pleased Harry greatly.
Tofty's home was a small cottage in the English countryside. It had a classic thatched roof, easy and cheap to maintain for a witch but a nightmare for muggles, and a tomato garden along the path that was dying from the coming winter.
The front door was already open for them when they arrived and the chatter of old women was already wafting out of it.
"Just what I like to do on my weekends." Marchbanks complained. "Spending time with coworkers."
"Oh come on! You have some pretty great coworkers." Harry consoled.
"You have better ones, yet I don't see you having breakfast at their houses." Marchbanks countered.
"True, but unlike you I haven't been on sick leave long enough to miss them." Harry double countered.
"That's fair. Let's go see the naggers." Marchbanks decided.
They marched through the front door and were greeted by Professor Tofty herself, who stood in the doorway to the left of the entrance hall looking into the living room.
"They're finally here! Good timing, the ginger snaps just came out of the oven." She greeted.
And like that the trip was already made worthwhile.
They sat on the white, flowery furniture and Harry was promptly introduced to their coworkers. Mafalda Hopkirk, he knew, but the other three were new to him. There was Tofty's undersecretary, Felicity, Mafalada's undersecretary, Hana, and an accountant for the testing department named Zoe. The last of whom poured the two men cups of tea just as Tofty returned with a platter of steaming hot ginger snaps.
"So, Professor Morrigan. I would like to cordially welcome you to the world of being an educator. How has it been treating you thus far?" Tofty began.
"Oh! Excellently. My students have all been a joy, and so far I've only had to give two detentions, both at the same time for fighting. The coworkers keep me on my toes. I sure do love being the least wizened and intelligent person in a room, lets me feel like a student again. Speaking of!" harry explained before motioning to the people in the room.
He then let them take the floor as he finally reached for the platter of ginger snaps. Before they could begin a knock came at the door and in walked the last person Harry wanted to spend his Saturday morning with. The only pleasant thing about her appearance was the box of danishes she carried inside. Though he had to admit, orange was a better color on her than vibrant pink and the genuine smile she wore was a marked improvement over the smugness he remembered her for.
"Morning young ladies!" Umbridge greeted as she put the box down next to the ginger snaps.
"Morning Dolores!" The not so young ladies greeted.
"Oh my, Alastor is here? And who is this?" Dolores greeted the men present, noticing Harry mid gingersnap.
He swallowed and took a sip of the tea to wash it down.
"Hadrian Morrigan, at your service." harry greeted as politely as he could.
Play nice. Just like with Bellatrix she's not your Umbridge.
"Oh!" Umbridge cried out and joy absolutely bloomed on her face. "Professor, Hadrian Morrigan?"
Harry nodded at the clarification.
"I am so indescribably pleased to meet you! Divination was my favorite class as a girl, and it was maddening seeing it fall from the heights Professor Shunpike had raised it to the lows that Trelawney took it. By all accounts I've heard you are doing a wonderful job. Thank you." Dolores said whole heartedly.
She offered a hand and Harry took it, though he was unable to hide the look of whiplash on his face as the heartfelt speech.
Although a piece of a puzzle he had never thought of that was the Dolores Umbridge just fell into place. She had completely right to sack Professor Trelawney in his world. That woman was only kept on staff because Dumbledore needed to protect her from Voldemort, not because she was the best teacher for the job. Which was a flagrant disregard for his responsibilities as headmaster. Still, she didn't have to show such animosity and cruelty in the manner of which she sacked Sybil. But he could understand it.
After all, if he had been given seven years under professor Lupin only for Lockheart to replace him for the next generation he'd feel pretty hateful of that grinning goon as well. Moreso than he already was, at least.
"So, what are we talking about?" Dolores asked, sitting down and being handed a cup of tea by Zoe.
"Work. Alastor already discussed how much he loves his new job. Why don't you share next?" Mafalda offered.
"Oh, well I'm a secretary for the department of games and sports." Dolores explained.
"Really? What sports do you play or follow?" Harry asked.
"Pfft! Hah! Do any of us really seem the sporting type?" Dolores asked. "No, I have no love or even understanding of quidditch, or dueling. But, all of the people at the ministry who do have no love or understanding of properly filling out documents and financial forms. That's where I come in. Cleaning up after the boys."
"And they are such boys about it." Felicity complained.
As their discussion descended into complaining how the men of the sports department never seem to grow up, Harry withdrew a stack of blank parchments and his wand, along with two documents. One was his handwritten invitation detailing the club positions that needed filling and the other was the list of werewolves who stayed at the shack last week and the guests they brought. HE spent the rest of the chat using the copy and paste spell for the names and again for the letter.
"What're you working on there?" Hana asked.
"Eh, Hogwarts needs some extra staff due to the explosion of club activities. Part time. So, I'm sending out letters to pretty much everyone I know asking if they or anybody they know can monitor fencing ,javelining, boating and other clubs. I don't suppose any of you can or know somebody who can fill these positions?" Harry explained.
"Did you miss the part where Dolores said none of us are the sporting type?" Tofty asked. "That and nobody we know has the free time.
"My medical leave ends in another week, then I'll be too busy." Marchbanks refused. "Otherwise, I could probably handle some of the non-physical clubs, like chess and Gobstones."
Well, it was worth a shot. There was only one last place to ask around before calling a meeting with the governors.
Harry stormed into the shrieking shack.
"Oi! Wheezes!" He called out.
"Yeah!" Said Katie from the first floor.
"What is it?!" Fred called down from the second.
They both stumbled into the parlor, Katie sooner than Fred. He waited for them both to be in front of him. It was still early on a saturday morning so there weren't any customers yet, they'd start appearing around noon.
HE handed them the list of positions.
"You guys know anybody who can work part time at Hogwarts running these clubs?" He asked.
They took a moment to look it over and slowly shook their heads all the while.
"I got nothing on these, sorry." Fred said.
"Well what about your brother?" Katie asked.
Fredd gave her a look.
"Bill." She clarified.
"Bill? What about him" Fred asked, rechecking the list and seemingly trying to remember if Bill had ever picked up any of them.
"Well, isn't he chasing that French bird? The fencing duelist? Maybe he could put in a word with her?" Katie asked. "Have her teach swordplay."
"Oh, you mean Fleur?!" Harry asked. "I don't know why I didn't think of her. I'll write her directly. I imagine she'd love teaching at Hogwarts."
It would at least be amusing to see her suffer the Scottish winter for the first time again, not to mention how the students would act around the part-Veela. Bill would be the tipping factor though, as he knew she couldn't resist the chance to be in appirating distance from him and his family.
Was he breaking his own rules against using his knowledge from his world as a basis for decisions? Yeah, but sometimes it was just too delicious not to.
But then something occurred to him.
He was already invited Poliakoff and, by extension, Viktor. Now he had invited Fleur. That left out one person with the same connection to him as those two, a connection only he knew of but was a powerful one all the same.
And so, he took out his final sheet of paper and titled it to the fourth champion from his universe. God, he couldn't wait to see Cedric again.
Somewhere off the coast of Australia:
Voldemort fell into an exhausted, disoriented and agonized heap on the wooden deck of the boat as the boot he used as a portkey flew aside. It was the single longest portkey he had ever taken, and it had been a mistake. A portkey straight from the Germany to Australia would have been bad enough, but that he had to program it to take circuitous routes around the Netherlands, Russia and Indian Ocean.
Five minutes. Five whole minutes. He thought he could handle it. He had been wrong.
"My lord!" Walburga Black's voice called out to him.
The sound of each of her footsteps against the hardwood ship deck felt like a sledgehammer to his skull, and when she tried to cradle him into a sitting position it felt like he was rising the portkey all over again.
"You ever been hungover, concussed and suffering from a category five flu after running a five k marathon?" Tom asked in his best attempt at humor. "That's what this feels like."
"My god, how many Portkeys did you take?" She asked, genuine concern dripping from her voice.
"Just the one." He groaned out.
She was silent for a few moments after that, and when she spoke again it was with a considerate whisper.
"A single portkey? From Germany to Australia? In one go?" She clarified.
"Yup." he said.
Another moment of silence.
"Where in the world did you get a portkey capable of going ten thousand miles in one trip?' She asked.
"Oh you know..." Tom said in his best imitation of humble. "I made it."
"How?"
"With about twenty pages of algebraic topology." He explained.
Yup. He'd had to graph out the Portkey's route using a three-dimensional model of the earth, a highly detailed one Lucius kept in his mansion observatory, to plan that one out. Plotting functions to weave around the ward lines separating each country and keeping along international waters where no such wards existed had taken the better part of two nights. If he had just taken a straight route from Germany to here he would have made it in half the time with half the pain, but every single nation along the route he passed through would have detected his passing and plotted out his exact course and final destination.
Yeah, they would have had the armies of at least fie wizarding nations shoved up their asses so fast it would have been the end of Voldemort forever.
"Is the object I left in your care still protected?" He asked, still barely conscious but getting better by the minute.
"Of course, Tom. It is exactly where you left it. It's protections unmolested." She told him.
"That's great." He said, trying to prop himself up but failing miserably.
Then, all of a sudden, Walburga did the unthinkable. She side-along apparated him, and he knew nothing more.
Before you complain I'm being too nice to Umbridge, she dies brutally in my other story "Blood-Soaked Succession." This story is supposed to be nice and fair to all characters and show the wizarding world as a more wholesome and interconnected place, even for characters as atrocious as Umbridge.
Oh shit! What about Rita? Hmmmm. Not sure what I'll do with her.
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I take commissions now! you can pay me to write your fanfiction as three others are currently doing. My prices are as follows.
$25 per 1000 words of fanfiction, with some wiggle room. I don't pad my work. You also get to video chat with me as I type the first chapter.
$25 per 500 words for original fiction/nonfiction or anything else that is not fanfiction. I am still looking for my first nonfiction gig so I can move into ghostwriting professionally, so if you have a novel you really want written contact me.
Prices subject to change in the future. Check my profile.
Become a Patron:
NonsensicalRants
You can also still become a patron for ONE DOLLAR to get access to future chapters 2 weeks early and vote on which stories I update Next. I have higher tiers, but I have no idea what to offer for them now that I lowered everything to one dollar.