Dumbledore’sArmy,hethinks,inthosefewseondsbetweenbeingafriendandbeomingaleaderagain,lookingatthemallgatheredherelikesomesorryssreunion.Whatasorrybunhwemake.
Intheend,itisGinnythatgetsalloftheirattention,standinguponahairandwhistling.Shestumblesonthewaybakdown,andtherearesnikers,butitstopsassoonashestands.
Onebefore,hehadstoodinfrontofarowdedroomandtoldthemthattheyweregoingtolookforsomething,notknowingthathewasommandingthemalltogotowar,tofightforhim,todieforhim.Now,hehaslearned,andknowsexatlywhatitmeanswhenheasksfortheirhelp.
“Mad-Eyeleftusajobtodo.”Hehaddeidedonabsolutehoy,beauseDumbledorehadalwaysbeenaughtupinawebofliesandhalftruths,andHarrydidn’tnotwanttobethatkindofleader.“We—Drao,Hermione,RonandI—foundajournalupintheatti,tellingusaboutthepeoplehesuspetsthatwerestilloutthere,hiding,bidingtheirtime.OnesthatmightnothavebeensupportersofVoldemort,butwhowerejustwaitingtoridethetideofhisdefeattotheirownpower,likehedidwithGrindewald.”
There’sanotieableflinhwhenhesaidVoldemort’sname,butheignoresit,andmovestothebnkwallinstead,rollingdownthespreadsheetthatDraohadspentstnightpainstakinglyreating.Itlistedthenamesandloationsofsuspets,theirrimes,whattheymightbepnningtodo.Wizardingterrorists,haterimeswaitingtohappen.“Kingsleyametomestnight,whihiswhyIaskedyouallhere.”Hefeltnervous,morethanheeverhadbefore,beauseitwasonethingtoaskthemtofightwhentheyareyoungandthinkthatwarbringsglory,butitisanotherwhentheyhavefeltthetruthofit.“Thesearethemostrediblethreats.”
“Andwhat’sthatgottodowithus?”Geealledoutfromthebakofthegroup,hisvoietightandangry.Harrytriednottoflinhatthetoneofhiswords—thiswasnotaneasysituation,andeversinethelossofhisearandtheabseneofFredtohidebehind,Geehasn’tdonewellinrowdsofpeople.Theanger,heremindedhimself,wasn’tdiretedathim.“Theministryan’thandleit?”
“Theministryis…ieforthispartiursituation.”Harryknewhehadtohoosehiswordsarefully,unlessKingsleyameafterhimforrevealingseretinformation.“There’sstillsomeonernoforruption,andthisissensitiveinformation.Wehavetohandleitindepely,likewedidbefore.”
Therewereonlybnkstares.“Andwhyshouldwe?”ItwasGeeagain,sullen,angry,hurting.“Howmuhmoredotheyexpetustogive?”Heshookhishead,thenstoodupsofasthishairfelltothefloor.“No.I’msorry,Harry,butI’mdone.”
Andthenhewalkedout.
Harrydidn’treallyknowwhattodowiththat,beauseoneoftheonstantsofhislifeisthatwhenitistimetofight,therehavealwaysbeenpeoplewillingtostandbesidehim,evenwhenhewasn’taskingthemto.Andnowthathewasaskingthemto,hewasgettingnovolunteers,noonetostandbesidehim,onlyRonandHermionestandingsilentlybehindhim,likeguards.
(AndDrao,whowasarosstheroom,hiddeninthebak,butHarrywastryingnottolookathimbeauseitwasmoredistratingthananythingelse.)
“Look,”Hesaid,weakly,andwordswerenotenoughtoexpinwhytheyshouldletthemselvesbedrawnbakintothis.“Youdon’thaveto.Igetthat,thatyou’vegivenenough.Butsomeonehastodothis,andI’mgoingtotry,evenifIhavetodoitalon
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