A dish best served cold

13

The article, for the whatevereth time in a few days, set of a storm of talk and speculation about what had happened, and of course, what was going to happen. According to the article, an autopsy was being performed to determine the cause of death, but early reports indicated a likelihood of cardiac arrest induced by the Cruciatus Curse. As for why his heart was so weak, no one could really say. He had always been quite healthy, despite his plump nature.

The Headmaster had his suspicions of course, but he wasn't going to say anything. His mind flashed back to the meeting at 8 a.m. this morning, and the handshake between the Minister and Harry. He thought about just how quick Harry would have to be, and was astonished at the boy's rapid improvement in his skill. Ask Dumbledore if he condoned Harry's actions and he would say one of two things: "No, of course not, but I can't prove that he is doing them" or "What actions?"

No one would be asking that question though.

Get inside the old man's head, and it's a completely different story. He didn't really care what Harry did, just so long as it worked to better the Wizarding World.

Make no mistake. Albus Dumbledore was not the type of man to care so much about morals. He was the type of man to act like he cared about morals. Of course, had had some ethical standards, which he needed to be in his position of power, but they weren't nearly as grandiose as the population of the Wizarding World believed, and that's how he liked it.

What he wanted was a world without Voldemort, a world without corruption, where he could spend the rest of his days (which if he had a say in it, would be quite a few) being admired by the population of the Wizarding world. Was that so much to ask? He didn't think so.

With Fudge dead, the Wizengamot would be called into session, either today or tomorrow, to determine the interim Minister of Magic. From there, they would have to organize an election to choose the next official, full-term Minister.

The problem came in the form of Goblins. Having not yet launched an attack, but preparing for one none-the-less, the wily little monsters would throw a wrench into the plans to get an election, with the necessary campaigning times, in place.

This was perfect for Dumbledore. Maneuvering people into the places he needed them had always been a great skill of the Headmaster, and if he could get a sympathetic ear, one like Amelia Bones, The Daily Prophet would soon be printing articles that the Wizarding World needed to see. Articles about the return of Voldemort. Pages telling about how the Headmaster and Harry Potter were not attention-seeking lunatics.

Truth be told, there were already pockets of people that believed in the Dark Lord's return, and they were preparing. Hogsmeade was one area where the citizens were fortifying their shops and making plans for any danger that would come down upon them. After all, it had been quite easy to see that Dark Mark floating over the school from the town. More than one store owner and shopper had pissed their pants.

-HPHPHPHPHPH-

Late evening found Ron, Hermione, and Ginny leaving an abandoned classroom in the dungeons. Not too deep in, so they wouldn't have to worry about getting lost. Just before they got out, however, a voice called to them. "Weasels! You two stay. We need to talk about something. Go on Granger," the voice said, seeing that she too had stopped, "we'll send them along in a bit. I wouldn't wait around for them, though. The dungeons can be a scary place." A chuckle resonating off the walls.

Hermione did not like the idea that the Slytherins were discussing something with the two Weasleys without her. For one thing, if this was about something that required intelligence, it should have been her in there. Those two were mistakes in a long line of intelligent redheaded children that Arthur and Molly had produced.