A/N: Author notes are at the end of this chapter but here's just a quick one to all of the non H/Hr shippers (namely Meghan (totallystellar), since she's really the only one that told me not to make this story H/Hr): Don't go having heart attacks after the first scene of this chapter, alright? Just remember that not everything is as it seems!!! This message actually goes to everyone, not just non H/Hr shippers. The purpose of the first scene was basically just to point out that Harry is a hormonal teenager just like the rest of us ;-) The story has been far too serious lately, and I just wanted to lighten it up a little, and what better way to do that than an embarrassing situation for our main characters? Here's chapter 12, I hope you enjoy it:

Chapter 12: The Only Dauntless Fool

He grinned widely, with closed eyes, at the hot mound of flesh on top of him. He had slept peacefully for the first time since he could remember, and currently the smooth velvet of the bed sheets under his back, and the soft mound of hair on top of his bare chest, tickled his still aching body, making him squirm in indescribable pleasure. He stroked the delicate head of hair that was situated on top of his chest, and worked his hands down her back. In response, she started drawing circles and figure eight patterns on his warm bare chest with her cold fingertips, the contrast driving him insane with lust. Her head tilted back and, eyes still closed, he hungrily crushed his mouth onto the crook of her smooth neck. His hot mouth began to kiss and suck and nibble deliciously, and she encouraged him with a soft moan. His mouth trailed over her bare neck and he kissed the smooth curve of her chin, the thin skin of her closed eye lids, her delicate nose, her warm cheeks, and every other excruciatingly wonderful part of her face, ending with her mouth. It was a tentative kiss at first; the soft tissue of her lips making him want to stay with her forever. Her body was still pressed tightly against his, making them deepen the warm kiss; the underlying taste of warm honey and chocolate was driving him wild with pleasure. His hands were under her cotton shirt roving up her hot and sweaty back with a new maddening need he'd never experienced before, while she laced her hands in his unruly hair. His hands frustratingly roamed over her bra strap numerous times before he decided to take the infernal thing off altogether. Finding the metal clasp easily, he worked on opening the damned thing, when a loud voice of a female made them both come crashing back to reality.

"Alright you lovebirds," a loud muffled screech made them gain consciousness again, with a sinking feeling of confusion, and later shock and horror. "You have half an hour to be out of the room before I call the police!"

Harry and Hermione's eyes widened and immediately they both scrambled off each other, both simultaneously falling off the bed in opposite directions. Harry sat there breathing heavily, the effects of the dream—or what he thought was a dream—still lingering heavily on his body. The sweetly stinging sensation of Hermione's kiss still lingered on his soft lips. Looking down, he noticed his bare chest with a feeling of dread, and felt around the floor for his shirt. The flesh around his left eye was throbbing painfully and he was having trouble seeing without his glasses in the darkened room. He turned the bedside lamp on, and—'are those hearts?' Harry looked up at the pink light reflecting off the mirrors on the ceiling from the lampshade. Suddenly the events of the previous day came crashing back to him. His eyes widened and he looked around himself at the sleazy, pink and red hotel room. He lifted himself off the floor slightly so he was in a kneeling position, and looked over the edge.

"Hermione?" he asked tentatively.

She squeaked but looked over the edge of the other side of the bed inquiringly.

"You...I mean...nothing...er, we didn't...," Harry stuttered stupidly avoiding looking into her face, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again. "Nothing happened, right?" he asked pointing at each of them in turn.

Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently making Harry breathe a sigh of relief.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Harry cleared his throat once more and stood up clumsily, picking up the t-shirt on the floor in the process.

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced. Hermione didn't even acknowledge him while he walked toward the door opposite the frilly, heart-shaped bed.

Closing the door behind him, Harry leaned against it heavily and sank to the tile floor wearily mumbling to himself, "a cold shower."

~*~*~*~

Thirteen hours later, they arrived at Hogwarts. Due to their serious situation, both Harry and Hermione passed the early morning...thing...off for a dream, neither talking about it. They both tried to act normally around each other, but it seemed rather forced, resulting in uncomfortable small talk. After an hour of attempted conversation, they both decided they preferred silence over useless small talk.

Both of their bodies still ached from the previous day and they hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep last night. Their journey was tiring and...strange, for a lack of a better word, as well. It had consisted of a drunk taxi driver, getting mugged, a boat with drug dealing Mafia members, a trip to the downtown police station, a few handy memory charms, a Triathlon, and a truck carrying a load of plastic rubber duckies (yes, plastic rubber duckies).

"Should we knock?" Hermione asked uncertainly, standing in front of the large oak doors leading into the interior of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Um...yes? I suppose we should." And with that Harry raised his arm to knock—to have it fall back weakly. He tried again, but it just trembled uselessly for a second before falling again. "Hermione," he said wearily, "my arms feel like their made out of lead, can you do it?"

Hermione nodded mutely, having no energy to even laugh. She also raised her hands, to the same useless effect.

"Screw knocking," Harry growled annoyed while pushing the heavy doors open, Hermione doing the same.

The entrance hall was as grand as they remembered it. It was dark with only a few torches lit along the walls. They instinctively stepped towards the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing through the large hall loudly. They reached the large oak door, behind which muffled voices could be heard, simultaneously took a deep breath, sharing a glance, and pushed it open.

~*~*~*~

The Great Hall was brightly lit and Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut at first. They had been walking in darkness for hours and to be faced with a bright room was sheer torture to the eyes.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the night sky and stars were twinkling excitedly from behind some stray clouds. The previously mentioned torches were shining brightly, creating large shadows of all shapes on the walls. It would have been all very beautiful, had Harry been in the state of mind to enjoy it.

The four house tables were idiosyncratically bare, making them look even longer and larger than usual. Up above at the staff table, seemingly the whole Order of the Phoenix was assembled. It was rather unusual that Hermione and Harry hadn't been noticed yet.

There were some twenty people—give or take a few—seated around the staff table in avid discussion. Harry recognized Tonks with her spiky electric blue hair, Mad-Eye Moody with his magical eye which was currently staring daggers at Professor Snape who was scowling with his arms crossed. Mr. Weasley was comforting a crying Mrs. Weasley, and even Fred and George Weasley were wearing unusually concerned expressions on their young faces. Remus Lupin was particularly pale, and his face was drawn into a deep frown. That, along with his graying hair and shabby robes, made him look a decade older than he was. Various other members also sat around the table; Harry dimly recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt who was currently in a seething discussion with Dumbledore (Harry frowned seeing him), the stately-looking Emmeline Vance, black-haired Hestia Jones, square-jawed Sturgis Podmore, and typically excitable Dedalus Diggle, among others.

By now, Harry and Hermione were standing in the middle of the hall, and still walking closer, but no one had noticed them. Harry could clearly hear the conversation going on now.

"Albus," Remus Lupin spoke in his usual calm voice, "Kingsley and I have organized an extensive table of possible whereabouts. We need to sen—"

"Headmaster," a scowling Professor Snape interrupted, "we can't afford to send people looking for them now. It's useless—if the Dark Lord has those incurable children, they're already dead by now."

Hearing this, Mrs. Weasley gave another heart-wrenching sob while Snape just glared at Lupin who had opened his mouth to speak again. Harry couldn't take anymore of this and made their presence known.

"So glad you have so much faith in us, Professor Snape," he spoke sarcastically, his loud voice vibrating off of the walls creating an odd echoing effect.

Everyone visibly jumped at hearing Harry's voice (except for Dumbledore—'does anything surprise that man?'). Professor Snape's scowl grew, and Remus looked relieved. Fred and George's faces broke into identical grins, and Mrs. Weasley squeaked, jumped up and started making her way hurriedly towards them. Harry avoided looking at Dumbledore, but he knew his eyes would be twinkling wildly.

"How do we know that's really them?" Moody suddenly growled, making Mrs. Weasley freeze in mid-step. Moody continued talking with his wand pointed at Harry and Hermione in a threatening manner, "It could be some Death Eaters impersonating them, probably setting us up for an attack. Or maybe—"

"That's quite enough, Alastor," Professor Dumbledore interrupted. "I know it's them."

"Of course, you know everything, don't you?" Harry murmured, eyeing Dumbledore irritably. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice but Hermione did and nudged his ribs sharply with her elbow. Harry yelped quietly and glared at her. "Will you stop with the abuse already, woman? As if a black eye isn't enough," he mumbled, half-annoyed, half-amused, so only she could hear him. They were both oblivious to everyone staring at them.

"—so I'm sure you wouldn't mind," Dumbledore finished. Harry hadn't heard a word he said, and by Hermione's next words it seemed she hadn't either.

"We're sorry, Headmaster. Could you repeat that?" she asked while blushing.

The old wizard merely smiled while repeating his request for them to sit down and to hear about their actions and whereabouts of the last two days.

Harry crossed his arms and pursed his lips while taking the seat furthest away from the headmaster, Hermione in tow. Hermione sensed his resistance and sighed, planning on starting their preposterous tale.

"Where do we start?" she asked more to herself, but Dumbledore heard her.

"We know that you both have been abducted by portkey from Diagon Alley. But unfortunately, that's all," Dumbledore told her in a would-be-helpful tone. "We've been spending the better part of yesterday and today searching for you. But, alas, you could have been anywhere, Great Britain is a large area," Harry snorted at that; Dumbledore was great at the art of stating the obvious. If Dumbledore noticed, he didn't show it, and merely continued, "We started mapping possible locations for where you could have been, and we were just discussing our next step."

"Well," Hermione continued, "after someone had given us the portkey—not that we took it voluntarily—we got to some house. I'm still not sure where we were," at this Hermione looked at Harry for a response.

"We were at the Riddle's family home in Little Hangleton," Harry replied tonelessly. Dumbledore looked intrigued while the others looked either confused or curious. It was obvious no one had heard that it even existed.

"Right. Well, Wormtail pleasantly greeted us," Hermione continued, her voice dripping in undisguised sarcasm, "After a little while, Voldemort came." Some Order members flinched, and others hissed; Dedalus Diggle even dropped the teacup he was holding spilling tea all over the front of his robes. This annoyed Harry more than anything. 'It's just a stupid name—not even his real one—why were they so scared of it?'

Hermione just ignored them and went on, "Um...," Hermione seemed like she was struggling to remember what had happened next. "Oh yeah, Voldemort put the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail because the Death Eaters were supposed to take Ron as well." Mrs. Weasley turned white at that and let out some sort of strangled whimper.

Hermione continued talking and got up to the part where Harry got hit with the Cruciatus Curse as well—Harry's features were carefully masked to not reveal a thing—until Hermione abruptly stopped talking. Her eyes unfocused slightly and she was staring straight ahead reminiscent to someone remembering something. Her face scrunched up and she shook her head slightly as if to relieve a headache. Harry looked at her worriedly and gently touched her forearm.

"'Mione? You okay?" he inquired in a soft voice.

Hermione jumped as if forgetting he was there, or even where she was. The members of the Order looked on worriedly as well.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that," she said distractedly. "Um, Harry? Maybe you should tell them the next part," Hermione suggested while biting her lower lip. Her tone was a questioning one, and her voice was barely above a whisper. Harry was confused—and it showed. What was the matter?

Realization hit him swiftly and his face turned expressionless again. If one paid close attention, they would have seen a brief flash of pain run through his face. He did as Hermione asked and continued with the tale in a monotonous voice.

"Voldemort," Harry ignored the hisses and winces, "put me on the Imperius Curse next." After a long pause, Harry took a deep breath and continued.

"He told me to kill Hermione." Harry couldn't help but look up at the Order members to see their reactions. Dumbledore looked grave and was staring directly at him. Harry quickly averted his gaze from those deep blue orbs. Most of the others' expressions (with the exception of Snape) showed the same thing—sympathy. He hated sympathy.

Hermione sensed this and continued for Harry diverting the attention from him to her. "Well, I'm obviously not dead, so Harry fought the curse. After he fought it, Ha—ouch!" Hermione broke off rubbing her ribs. Harry had not-so-subtly jabbed her side with his elbow.

"Harry, you have to tell them," she told him sternly, not bothering to lower her voice. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

"Fine," he hissed. Harry felt a pinch of guilt at seeing the hurt in her eyes, but quickly pushed it down and turned back to the anxiously waiting Order members with narrowed eyes.

"I performed the killing curse on Voldemort."

~*~*~*~

After explaining the rest of their trip (tactfully leaving out the details of the honeymoon suit, as well as their little field trip to Muggle jail, and illegally performed memory charms), Dumbledore looked grave and excused himself—not before telling Harry to meet him in his office after getting checked up by Madam Pomfrey herself.

Harry really didn't want to meet Dumbledore now. His body hurt and his limbs felt like they were made out of lead. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes at all, and he had a massive migraine. Part of the reason for this migraine was that Hermione had ruined his glasses when she had...uh...punched him. After he had tripped over a chair, walked into a bedpost, and missed the doorway by three feet, Madam Pomfrey had exasperatedly performed a temporary vision adjustment charm until he had the time to get new glasses.

Another reason that Harry wasn't looking forward to the talk with Dumbledore besides because of the way his body hurt, and the fact that he was almost passing out in exhaustion, was that he still hadn't forgiven him for what he had said at the hotel in Wales. He had already had mixed feelings about him after the talk at the end of last term, and his accusations of Harry being selfish had just thrown him over the edge. He didn't even want to think about that conversation, but he knew it was inevitable. The conversation would no doubt be brought up.

Currently walking down the dark corridor towards Dumbledore's office, Harry couldn't deny the smug feeling he had felt when he saw the initial flash of surprise in the old man's eyes after he had told everyone he performed the killing curse—and it worked to some extent. There was no doubt that had Harry performed the same killing curse on an ordinary wizard that didn't have the powers Voldemort had, he would have succeeded. That was the surprising part. Harry wasn't meant to give a normal wizard more than a nosebleed, much less actually knock Voldemort out.

The whole situation was rather bittersweet. The sweet part was that the Order---or the wizarding world in general---had found out that Voldemort could not be killed with a mere killing curse. The bitter part was that the Order---or the wizarding world in general---had found out that Voldemort could not be killed with a mere killing curse.

It was good that they had found out that Voldemort could not be killed with the killing curse. It's vital information that the Order needed. It could save the lives of many people—namely, those dauntless fools that are just tired of the whole Voldemort bullshit and actually have the courage to put an end to it by just killing the bastard once and for all.

Of course the whole situation was bad. Nothing could have been worse than finding out that the killing curse did not work on Voldemort. Naturally, Dumbledore and the Order had their suspicions, and now they were proven correct. Now those previously mentioned dauntless fools that were tired of the whole Voldemort bullshit have to find a way to kill the bastard. A way that does not require the killing curse. Of course, if the prophecy and Dumbledore were correct, Harry was one of those previously mentioned dauntless fools. The only dauntless fool, in fact.

'Typical,' Harry thought dryly.

By now, Harry had made it up to Dumbledore's second floor office and mumbled the password to the stone gargoyle. Standing in front of the wooden door, Harry took a deep breath and knocked while calling to whatever deity that was listening to make this meeting short.

"Come in, Harry," the strong voice of Professor Dumbledore called.

Harry opened the door and made his way into the large, circular office. Professor Dumbledore's office hadn't changed in the least since the last time he saw it. The office held a comfortable atmosphere, not being overly neat. The many portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses decorated the walls, taking up almost all of the space. Many of them were sleeping away, while others looked at Harry either curiously, or with sympathy, and some even with contempt. Harry instinctively looked towards Fawkes' perch beside the door, but it was unusually bare and absent of the phoenix he had come to know. Letting his eyes continue their customary tour of the office, Harry blushed seeing the spindle-legged table once more intact, with its delicate silver instruments puffing and whirring tranquilly upon it.

"As you may have noticed, no permanent damage was done and everything has been repaired and replaced," Dumbledore, sitting behind the large, parchment littered desk, spoke referring to the 'incident' that caused the delicate instruments and table to be wrecked in the first place. Harry took a seat in front of the desk and blushed once more but looked up at the headmaster determinately.

"I'm very sorry, Headmaster," he said honestly. He really was sorry. He didn't really mean everything he had said, and especially not with the way he said it. At the time, he was still in shock and denial about...his death. Harry couldn't believe Dumbledore had blamed himself when it was clearly Harry's own fault that Sirius was dead.

The old wizard chuckled warmly, "that's quite alright, my dear boy."

They both stayed silent for a long time. Harry was subjected to a most soul-piercing gaze by the old wizard. He calmly returned it, refusing to look away this time. Their last conversation couldn't help but make its way into Harry's mind once more. Harry thought he should feel abashed for what he said, but he couldn't find an ounce of regret or remorse inside his body. Unlike the last time Harry had been in Dumbledore's office, he had meant every word he said back at the hotel. Perhaps saying them in a more respectful manner wouldn't have hurt, but he wasn't going to dwell on 'what if's' now—he'd had enough of those to last a lifetime.

After five minutes of silence under Dumbledore's unwavering piercing gaze, realization for the silence hit him full force, almost making him laugh bitterly in morbid amusement.

"I'm not sorry for what I said, Professor Dumbledore," Harry stated bluntly. Professor Dumbledore merely blinked and chuckled lightly, infuriating Harry even more.

"Yes, Harry, I know that. I also know that you were completely right," Dumbledore stated sincerely making Harry blink in surprise. "In fact," he went on, "I would like to apologize for what I said. It was completely wrong for me to assume something without acquiring your reasons first."

Harry truthfully hadn't been expecting an apology from the old wizard. There was nothing to do but nod his head in an accepting gesture. Dumbledore smiled in gratitude and cleared his throat, "that being said, I'd like to give you the opportunity to ask me any questions you may have. I realize that at your home," Harry snorted at that making Dumbledore pause and his eyes twinkle brightly, "I realize that at Privet Drive," he tried again, "you don't have a lot of access to news on what is going on around the wizarding world, and I dare say you've been too busy lately to find out for yourself. So," Dumbledore spread his arms in an inviting manner, "ask away. Of course, direct questions about the Order will not be answered, unless they pertain to you or I see them appropriate to be answered."

Harry was slightly taken aback by this. No one had ever given him free access to anything he wanted to know. He was used to sneaking around with Ron and Hermione having to figure out things for himself. Several incidents came to mind right away. The Order's questions restriction was fair enough; the things that didn't concern him were none of his business anyway (and he knew he'd eventually find out one way or another).

There were just so many things to ask. Where would he start? Well, that was easy.

"Voldemort," Harry stated with a fierce glint in his bright emerald eyes. "What's going on with him? What's he doing? What are the Death Ea—"

"One thing at a time, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled holding up an old hand. "Voldemort," his expression turned grave, and the bright twinkle in his eyes diminished significantly, "I'm afraid, isn't concerned with being subtle anymore. He's attacking muggle and wizarding communities all over Great Britain, and he's even started attacking other parts of Europe.

"He has been recruiting many Death Eaters, of all ages. I regret to say you'll see a significant number of losses in our student body this year, and not only from Slytherin house," Dumbledore said gravely, looking at Harry over the gold rim of his half-moon spectacles.

Harry frowned at this. Surely there wouldn't be Death Eaters in Gryffindor. 'What about Peter Pettigrew?' his inner voice teased. He absently fingered the golden locket around his neck he had received for his birthday. Harry's face hardened just thinking about that little rat, and the fact that he had lost another chance at seeking revenge just over a day ago. Dumbledore's voice cut any further thoughts short.

"Now, just because some parents that are followers of Voldemort choose to take their children out of Hogwarts, doesn't mean that Hogwarts is safe and free of Voldemort's minions. Quite the contrary, you should be exceptionally careful this year, Harry. Be wary of whom you entrust with your secrets this year; there are many spies on the loose—some closer than you think—and I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about them without sufficient support and evidence," the old wizard warned.

Harry swallowed the lump that was stuck in his throat, and nodded mutely. The idea that anyone could be a spy—his closest friends, the people he lived with, was...frightening. The fact that Voldemort was ruthlessly attacking Muggles and wizards alike wasn't a lot more comforting. Before he could give more thought to the manner, Dumbledore continued.

"People all over have been disappearing with little more than the Dark Mark over their home. I'm sure you've even noticed the Muggles speaking about those in their news."

Harry nodded. He had noticed the 'mysterious' disappearances in old newspapers he had shamelessly nicked from the trash bin. The Muggle news Aunt Petunia watched every morning during breakfast, were filled with disappearances. And not only of nameless Muggles; the Prime Minister's daughter had disappeared, and the famous actor, Anthony Andreonette, had also vanished. The major muggle newspapers had referred to them as terrorist attacks—with the Dark Mark as the symbol of the terrorist group—, while the tabloids had reported the disappearances as being outer space Alien abductions.

"Can't the ministry do anything? What's Fudge doing? Is he still being a stubborn bast—" Harry blushed and realized he was talking to the headmaster. The wizard didn't seem to notice Harry's almost slip-up and was humming to himself while staring at the ceiling with twinkling eyes.  Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "Is Fudge still...um...being Fudge?" Dumbledore chuckled and looked back down at Harry.

"Well, Minister Fudge is being more... Fudge—I believe is the term you used—than ever."

Harry growled in frustration, "Why don't the people get rid of him?"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy. The leader of any country—including the Minister of Magic—gains power during times of war, and the people lose power. We currently are in a war. Fortunately, even Minister Fudge can see that now. I have been in contact with him and have been suggesting courses of action he can take, and naturally, he's been ignoring my suggestions and even going out of his way to do the opposite of what I say."

"Aren't there people in the ministry that don't support Fudge? Can't they do something?" Harry asked hopefully.

Dumbledore just clucked his tongue. "I'm afraid there aren't too many of those people. At least not any in any position of power." Dumbledore took a tired breath and continued, "Minister Fudge is basically firing the people that don't support him and giving promotions to the people that do—"

"He can't do that!" Harry interrupted indignantly.

"As Minister Fudge never tires of reminding me, he is the Minister of Magic and can do anything he likes."

"But there's gotta be something in the rules against doing what he's doing," Harry asked inquiringly.

"Oh there is, which is exactly why the people of the wizarding world want to take him out of office."

"And why don't they again?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "There really is no point. The Minister of Magic has a six-year term, and his is completed at the end of the year."

"But even a few months can save lives!" Harry voiced irately.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled more than ever at Harry's insistence. "Yes, I agree, but the people of the wizarding world don't see why to even bother. They are partially right. The removal of any person in office, especially the Minister of Magic, is a long process and would most likely take many months."

Harry frowned and stayed silent for a short time. He exhaled and said dejectedly, "Well, at least Fudge won't get re-elected."

"Therein lays another problem," Dumbledore said wearily.

Harry looked up sharply. "He won't get re-elected, will he?" he asked in a slightly panicked voice.

Dumbledore chuckled, "No, my boy, he most likely won't get re-elected.

"The problem," Dumbledore continued, "is that Minister Fudge knows that.

"Tell me, Harry, when you studied History at your primary school, did you ever learn about something called 'packing the court'?"

Harry just shook his head mutely.

"Hmm...yes, it might have been a little advanced. No matter, I'll explain. Do you know anything about the American government?"

Harry just shook his head again, a little quizzically this time. 'Where was he going with this?'

"I won't go into long details—I know you're tired and are anxious to get to bed" Harry thought that was an understatement, but Dumbledore continued. "The American government is made up of three branches: the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial. The Supreme Court makes up the Judicial Branch while the President is part of the Executive.

"Well, getting to the point, at the end of the 1930s, an American president named Franklin D. Roosevelt tried to create a new plan known as 'FDR's packing the court plan'. The new bill would add one judge seat for every judge sitting over the age of 70. It also called for a maximum of six new Supreme Court justices. There were a total of fifty new judgeships that might be created by this bill. In this way Roosevelt hoped to gain some measure of control over the only branch of government that was out of his control.

"The bill was never passed and FDR never was able to add judges. Franklin Roosevelt's plan to pack the court lowered his popularity with the American people. There's still the question today of whether FDR tried to pack the courts so he could have more power in the government, or because he was trying to help make the United States government more efficient."

'What the hell is he talking about?' Harry thought to himself confused. He let Dumbledore know of his confusion—albeit in a more respectful manner. "Professor Dumbledore, that's a nice story and all, but what does Muggle American history have to do with the wizarding world today?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly and he answered, "Don't you see, Harry? That's exactly what Minister Fudge is doing now. He's 'packing the courts', so to say. He's filling ministry posts with people that support him and not the Order and I. He's replacing the people that do support our cause with people that don't. Minister Fudge knows he's not going to get re-elected, therefore he's doing as much damage to us and our cause as possible."

Realization dawned on Harry and he nodded mutely. It made sense that the slime ball Fudge would do something like that.

"Well," Dumbledore said brightly, "I can tell just by looking at you, Harry, that you are ready to fall asleep right in that chair. Not that I blame you," Dumbledore chuckled. It was true. Harry's eyes were drooping shut despite his attempts to stop this. It just didn't seem fair. He hadn't had access to this type of information all summer, and to just leave now, in the middle of his questioning, seemed stupid. As if reading his mind, Dumbledore started talking again. "Now you just get some sleep and we'll finish our talk soon enough," he promised, standing up.

Dumbledore escorted Harry to the door and held it open for him. Harry mumbled a goodbye and was just stepping onto the revolving staircase when Dumbledore called him once more.

"Harry," he addressed him, "don't be surprised if we don't get to finish our talk any time soon," his blue eyes twinkled outrageously and he continued talking with a mysterious smile plastered on his face, "I dare say you will be too busy with another activity at the start of term."

And before Harry had a chance to ask any questions, the oak door closed.

A/N's: Muwhahaha, now it's your job to figure out exactly what this mysterious activity is. ;-)