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Chapter Thirty-Six

Albus Dumbledore was annoyed. He'd tried several times to keep Harry from being distracted by unnecessary correspondence. His mail diversion box was nearly always empty and the young man kept getting his mail. He knew it was being hand-delivered and was going to ask Cornelius to do something about it. He eyed the mailbox with disgust; most of the few things he did get were pranks, so he was being more careful about opening things. But now the box was nearly vibrating in place. He sighed and opened it with a tap of his wand. The resultant flood of mail nearly filled his office. Howlers smoked and jumped into the air. The resultant cacophony nearly deafened him. He called for a secretary but she, wisely, told him that it wasn't her job to answer fan mail. He eyed the piles and piles of mail and snarled. He could get away with redirecting Harry Potter's mail only if he actually dealt with it. He'd just vanished the first few posts but evidently some of it had actually been from the Ministry of Magic. He'd been told he had to deal with it all, not just store or banish it. This was going to be hell.

He was right.

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Yusuke settled in to deal with the weeks between the first and second tasks. Dumbledore had wanted the tasks to be spread out over the whole of two terms with a ball at Christmas. Headmistress McGonagall had thought it was the most idiotic thing she'd ever heard of. Guess who won.

So, now, the first task had been accomplished just after New Years, the next one would be held in March. They were looking at the second weekend. Then the last task would be held the weekend before school let out for summer. This made much more sense. It gave everyone time to recover from the last task and study for the next, if they figured out what it was to be in time.

It most assuredly was not going to be hostages at the bottom of the lake. He'd laughed his ass off when his messenger had brought him a copy of the letter the ICW had sent to the head of the department of games and sports, Minister Fudge and the board of Governors of Hogwarts. He was told by Sirius that Fudge had read it to the Wizengamot and had his motion to send a protest to the ICW voted down by a nearly 100 percent vote.

More and more the Wizengamot was not voting for Fudge's motions. There was a lot of grumbling about the amount of gold he was spending on bounties on Death Eaters. Everyone agreed that removing the menace was a good thing―except for the ones who were Death Eaters themselves―but the majority of members didn't see the amount of the bounties as being reasonable. It really infuriated them all that the contract was with the Ministry itself, not Fudge. It didn't make any difference who voted how, they still had to pay, or lose their magic. Many were relieved that there hadn't been a pay-out since before Christmas.

They were soon to be a bit upset.

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Yusuke eyed the report. His men had found a nest of mid-level Death Eaters. They were well trained and upper mid-level. He wanted high level Death Eaters but he'd settle for what he could get. All the upper-level people were in hiding. Sirius was of the opinion that they were all holed up with Voldemort somewhere. He'd tried tracking the LeStrange brothers and found nothing. They'd found the traces and disappeared. He'd also tried tracking the Carrows, but the same thing had happened with them.

The few low-level Death Eaters they'd managed to get hold of, didn't know anything. Voldemort had taken a page from the French Resistance of WWII. No one in the lower levels knew more than five of their fellows and one mid-level controller. They'd gotten hold of one of them and persuaded him to tell them a bit. He only knew his immediate superior and had never seen his, or her, face. They'd used a charm to distort their voice. The bounties on the few that they'd caught had barely paid the expense of catching them. Sirius was not pleased.

This find was worthwhile only if they took prisoners. Yusuke was looking forward to some action. Maybe they'd get lucky and get someone higher up. He hoped so. Musashi-sama was getting impatient. He'd thought this would be wound up much sooner and he was missing his son, and the shikkō-sha.