Neville Reads the Prophet 7
Covering through Chapter 8 of Honor to Serve, being the edition of Tuesday July Forth.
Neville had been up for over three hours when he finally got to read the morning's Daily Prophet. He'd been woken up at five thirty antemeridian by the beeping coin that Hermione had created for the purpose of alerting Harry's staff. It was a master of charm-work, but being woken up that early, well, Neville was still considering what he should do to Hermione. He was leaning towards defenestration, a favored choice among the Longbottom Family.
He'd purchased a copy at the Leaky Caldron, where he and his friends had gone with the cleared Sirus Black. That was going to be a headline tomorrow, Neville was sure. Of course something could come up. He would have never predicted the headlines blaring across the top of page one the day before.
Neville settled in to his personal office at the Wizengamot. His gran had decided that it was time he have a room of his own in the Lincolnshire Offices that would be his own upon his eighteenth birthday. He did not anticipate that happening earlier, like it happened to Harry and Draco. Of course, when it did, assuming that it wasn't due to her death, his Gran would get a merit seat automatically due to her long service as Neville's proxy.
It was his office, so Neville felt free to prop his feet up on his desk and lean back in his chair.
"Neville, sit up properly." Gran had charmed his chair. This was his office, she wasn't supposed to do that. Still, he sat up properly, and unrolled his copy of the Prophet.
"Queen Presides Over Wizengamot. Snowdon, the Dark Lords' Bane Elected Minister." The headlines filled the top of the page. There was a picture of the Queen bestowing the chain of office on her sister. The chain had been used mostly ceremonially, but Neville had noticed that the Minister had still been wearing it a few hours ago.
The primary article was a rather factual account starting with of the final round of voting, coupled with a list of those who had accepted nomination. It also described the new Minister Snowdon's address before the Wizengamot. It had been a rather stirring one. Neville had listened to it up in the heir's gallery. Hermione had been his guest, and she said that the new minister had liberally cribbed from some guy named Churchill.
The full speech was in a side bar.
"The choice today was a choice between war and dishonor. Indeed today, I feel confident that there is still dishonor among us, those that still serve the Dark Lord we must oppose. I say today to the gathered Wizengamot, to those seated on its floor, to those gathered in its galleries, to those listening in their homes, I do not come here promising that I have an easy solution, one that will solve the our ills in a single blow.
"I come today, to promise, as another great Englishman promised, that I have nothing more to offer than blood, toil, tears, and sweat. And as he promised, my policy, is to wage war, by sea, by land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us: to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is my policy, that is my promise.
"As for the Wizengamot, I promise that neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trails of vigilance and exertion shall wear us down. Give us the tools and we will finish the job, just like that great Englishman, Churchill, did.
"I leave you with one more quote of that man, pulled from the depths of my memory, and a charge, a charge that man made in 1940 to our nation under siege. It is a charge that I hope that the Witches and Wizards of Britain shall live up to just like the people of Britain did back then. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will say, 'This was our finest hour.'"
Neville had heard one line after that, intended for the Queen, no doubt. It was said in somewhat of a irreverent, if not downright disrespectful tone. "How was that for improvising, your Majesty?" The Queen had only smiled in reply, a smile, however, that promised more, later, and probably not all good.
At the bottom was an article on the Countess Snowdon. It covered from when as a young witch, not even having taken her OWLs, took over the job of Royal Wizard and took on the job of defeating Dark Lords throughout the world. The list of Dark Lords whose reign she was credited with ending was impressive ... and apparently culled from the comic books that she starred in.
Finally in the lower right corner was a picture of a man, dressed in a full suit, with a bow tie and bowler hat. The rotund man's right hand was raised, two fingers, upright, split into a 'V' sign. It moved, the man looking from side to side. It was labeled simply, Winston Churchill (1874-1965). No other explanation accompanied it.
Neville looked at the man. His smile, his confidence, somehow leached out of the paper to Neville. He'd heard the words from Minister Snowdon, and Hermione had told him which ones were from the man she called Britain's greatest wartime Prime Minister. He imagined the voice that would come from such a man. He imagined the strong tone as the man had addressed the House of Commons. "I have nothing more to offer than blood, toil, tears, and sweat," he'd said.
Neville knew what Voldemort could do. He couldn't say the name out loud, but he was determined to at least not hide the name in his thoughts. Neville had seen what his followers could do. He saw it ever time he had visited his parents. He'd seen the aftermath of what Voldemort could do. He saw it in the body of Cedric, bought home to his parents by the courage of his friend Harry. He'd seen it in the wreckage that once had been Harry's parent's home at Godric's Hollow. He saw it in the nightmares that troubled his friend as Voldemort's return had grown nearer in the previous year.
He'd seen it in the many orphans, only able to attend Hogworts at the sufferance of one of the great scholarship funds. He'd seen it in the haunted eyes of his Gran's friends and acquaintances when the return had come up during their visits since he had returned home. He'd seen it the scared bodies of the aurors that were invited for Boxing Day Dinner ever year that he could remember.
Neville turned the page.
The weather was not looking good. It was supposed to rain for the whole day, and the next. In fact it looked like the whole first full week of July was going to be a very gloomy one. There was a Flash Flood Watch for "Diagon Ally and environs." Neville crossed out his planned trip to pick up a new mandrake for his private greenhouse. It was not recommended to transport mandrake in the rain, and risk the dirt washing off the root.
The lower half of the page was Czarina Redeemer's Buys and Sells as usual. The Countess Snowdon was a buy, of course, and Fudge a sell. Pius Thickness, sell. Dolores Umbridge, sell. The former staff of the member from Wiltshire, sell. Neville had witnessed Baron Amesbury firing most of them. Baron Amesbury, buy. It was going to take some getting used to calling Draco Malfoy, Amesbury. The Prince of Wales, buy. Percy Weasley, buy. Augusta Longbottom, buy. Algernon Longbottom, sell. What had Uncle Algie done now? Neville wondered. Harry Potter, buy.
Severus Snape, sell. Minerva McGonagall, buy. Given that there was a meeting of the education committee, that was hardly unexpected. Neville couldn't see Snape getting out of that committee meeting. Perhaps it would be wise to make sure that Mal ... Amesbury got a copy of Hermione's briefing for Harry.
He looked over to page three. It seemed that the young wizards who had been arrested for moving landmarks around had disappeared, along with Riker's Island. A new ambassador from Russia with a magical portfolio had been accredited to the Court of Saint James. The Prophet didn't seem to have much else to say in International News.
The door to Neville's office opened, and his Gran entered, carrying a box. "Neville, dear, I have brought you some supplies," she said. She pulled the first item out of the box, a polished oak block with deep black letters on it, reading, 'Neville Franklin Longbottom.' It was just like the one on his father's desk at home. Neville had often sat in the chair in front of his father's desk. In someways, sitting there made him feel more close to his father than any visit to Saint Mungo's had ever done. Most summers, since he wasn't allowed to use it, Neville would reverently place the wand he had inherited from his father on the slightly cupped surface on top of his father's own name plate, 'Franklin Benedict Longbottom.'
Neville placed the wand above his own name plate for the first time. As he did so, he heard a sniffle from his Gran. He looked up to discover tears going down her face. "Gran?"
"Oh, Neville, you're growing up so fast," Gran replied in a tone he'd never quite heard from his stern guardian.
Neville found himself going around his desk to wrap his Gran into a hug. As he did so, he realized for the first time that he was only a few inches short of his Gran's height. He kept up the hug until she pulled away, a bit.
Gran began pulling the rest of the stuff for his desk out of the box. "I arranged for the same set as I did for your father," she said. "Save that apparently they do not make the crimson shade that your father preferred for his accessories."
"That's okay, Gran," Neville said, looking over the ink well, parchment box, and quills that she was arranging on his desk. He liked the scarlet hue.
"There," Gran said, looking at the desk. Then she turned to Neville. "I understand that your friend, the Member from Wiltshire, has fired all of his staff. That means the Education committee is now short a Sargent-at-arms to handle the introductions. As Wiltshire is staff-less, the next ranking member is your friend, the Member from Surrey, being a Knight of the Realm."
"Harry, call him Harry," Neville said. "He just wants to be Harry."
"Harry then," Gran said, her tone saying that she didn't really approve of that form of address. "Please see who he has appointed as his Sargent-at-arms. Should he not have someone by this afternoon, I'm afraid I shall have to ask the Member from Hampshire for hers, and I just can't stand his squeaky voice."
"I'll ask Harry as soon as I finish reading the Prophet," Neville said.
"Very well," Gran nodded her approval before leaving.
Neville turned back to page four. He was quite surprised that aside from a continuation of one of the front page articles, there were no additional articles on Minister Snowdon. Instead the first article was about the Wizengamot' s reaction to the execution of the three traitors who had been discovered at the opening of the summer session. It began with a statement:
"The Honorable Member from Surrey, having witnessed the late Lucius Malfoy's trial, believes justice has been done, sending Lucius Malfoy to his well deserved final reward in Hell."
It was immediately followed by another statement that Neville found quite chilling, even though he'd heard it composed the day before:
"The Lord Draco, Baron Amesbury, wishes to let to be known that the late prior holder of the Wiltshire Wizengamot has been stricken from the roles of his house. The Baron shall not recognize any bonds, agreements, or relations with the traitor. In addition, the Baron intends to see that all those engaged in activities with and like the traitor suffer a similar fate."
There was a sidebar on the arrests of the entire Wiltshire office staff. The lists of crimes were quite diverse and comprehensive.
There was a statement from the Office of His Highness, the Prince of Wales:
"His Royal Highness was pleased to witness the execution of three noted traitors known as Death Eaters. He stands, with his brothers and sister, ready to judge any further members of the Wizengamot who are members of the said organization. They should not expect a lessor punishment before his court."
There was also an article on the general reaction in Diagon Alley to the execution. Madam Mulkin had few good words for the traitors, which was to be expected. They'd apparently caught the comic book writer for the Snowdon comics walking the alley, as Lee Bet Mountbatten was quoted, "Good riddance."
They'd caught Ron's mum in the alley too, and she had been quite expressive. Neville was sure that the paragraph wasn't all that Mrs. Weasley had said. There was apparently quite a family grudge against the late Malfoy. Neville had long known that Ron didn't like Lucius Malfoy, and asking Ginny her opinion of the man was likely to result in scorched ears.
Neville looked over at the Sports section, hoping that there would be a bit of release.
Portree was under new management, that of the Duke of Rothesay, but that had been only the case for the weekend, so it was unlikely that any real turn around could have started. So it was quite expected that they'd lost, though only by the snitch. 200-50 was actually a rather respectable score, given the circumstances.
Then there was the preview of the Puddlermere vs Chudley game. Neville knew that if he had lunch with Ron, he'd hear all about Chudley's chances. Neville wasn't quite sure how Chudley had managed to assemble it's current chaser team. There was a profile on the three, all of which were new to the team this year.
Sanpurananzi Tinker was apparently a Romani, and had the interesting habit of playing barefoot. She'd had it written into her contract. When asked why, she only shrugged and said, "Carl does backflips when he wins, I play barefoot. Why shouldn't it be in my contract, it's in his." Standing at just four foot eight, she had been hired as a Seeker for the Vratsa Vultures. She'd been replaced by Krum, and ended up in England, as a Chaser instead, which apparently was the position she really wanted to play.
How Christopher Evers ended up playing for Chudley was perhaps the strangest story in the history of try outs. Evers was sixty-eight years old, and a retired priest. He'd been at the tryouts because his great-niece had been told to be at the Chudley Open, the annual event when the coaches let anyone try out, with the best playing a game against the prior year's starters. The vicarage where he'd retired to happened to be on the edge of the moor where Chudley's games were played. So he'd flown alongside his great-niece, and then assisted in her warm up. His feeding the Quaffle to her caught the eye of the Chaser's Coach, an old Chaser who had actually been on the last league winning team from Chudley, and been told to join the scrum along with his niece. They offered him a contract the next day.
It would have been sad, had Lucy Chance not managed to get her spot on the Cannons. True, she'd been offered a reserve contract the same day as her great-uncle had been gifted with a starting one. It also would have been a shame, as Little Lucy, a half inch shorter than Tinker, had a real gift for placing the Quaffle just where it needed to be. She'd been put in for the first time with Tinker and Evers in an exhibition game against the Nantucket Patriots in Nantucket. After a particularly massive scoring run, the Nantucket announcer had said the fateful words:
"These are the saddest of possible words
'Tinker to Evers to Chance'
trio of cannons, fleeter than birds
Tinker and Evers and Chance
Ruthlessly pricking our patriotic bubble
Making a giant rout on the double
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble
'Tinker to Evers to Chance.'"
The announcer had credited it to a poem about another sport, called baseball, but to the Cannons that didn't matter. They had a trio of chasers who had run up the score so high that they won by two thousand. Their Saturday game, the first time the trio had started on English soil, was won 1520 to 120, as the Cannon's first win against the number one ranked team in a decade. Coupled with a new keeper, who had come very close to shutting Appleby out, only allowing scoring in the last ten minutes of the three hour long game, the columnist previewing the game expected a very good game.
There was a sidebar on what baseball was. Neville thought it looked to be a very boring game.
He turned over the page to Business. It seemed that Zonko's rumored to be about to go under. There was a lot of speculation as to when, and who would benefit from it. Zonko's apparently had a lot of unused assets. There was also some discussion about a rise in prices for toad eyes. If it wasn't for the fact that Trevor was a gift from his great-uncle, Neville would have sold him for parts. If he had his way, he would have bought an owl like Harry's Hedwig to take to Hogwarts.
Looking over to page seven, Neville decided that he had no idea what made fashion. Blaze orange blazers? What were those designers thinking? Neville barely skimmed the page, turning over to the Farm section
Someone had apparently managed to grow mariphasa lupina lumina at a low altitude. There were some ancient potions that used the plant. It was hoped that there would soon be enough to revive a few of them. The demand had nearly wiped out the plant in Tibet, until restrictions were imposed by the magical government of Tibet.
In legal notices on the next page, there was a notice from the Wiltshire Wizengamot offices about being closed until further notices. Baron Amesbury apparently could be reached at the Surrey offices, and the Lincolnshire offices would be handling constitute services.
Finally on the back page there was a full page advertisement from the Diagon Alley Merchant Association, congratulating Ollivander on sixty years working in the Alley. It included a picture of the young Garrick Ollivander, take the day he sold his first wand. Neville couldn't believe that Ollivander had ever been that young.
Neville folded up the paper and put it aside. Looking around his new office, he figured that he needed a few pictures. Since Ginny had found the portraits that graced the Surrey offices, he decide to head back to collect her for a scavenging run thought the Wizengamot store rooms.
Standing up, he straightened his robes, and headed out of his office. His gran was just exiting her office at the same time. "I'll be back before lunch, Gran. The Surrey offices will know where to find me."