Breakfast at Hogwarts in the post-takeover era was an odd experience. In the olden days, back when the only people at Hogwarts were students and staff, food would be made by the house-elves in the kitchens and then transported to the tables for everyone to pick from at the five house and staff tables. Now that the number of people living in and around the castle had expanded from a few hundred to a few thousand, and with Hogwarts's larders taking the brunt of the hungry mouths, the layout of the Great Hall had changed into various iterations over the last couple of months as the castle and the elves tried to find the most efficient workflow possible to feed everyone. The result was that tables overflowing with various foodstuffs were located at two of the walls, and the large house tables had been replaced with many smaller tables that would only seat eight to ten people. Everyone was welcome for breakfast and dinner, and those who did not wish to eat in the Great Hall itself were more than welcome to take their food elsewhere, such as to the courtyard or to the 'temporary' pavilion that was becoming more and more of a permanent structure.
It meant there were more people in the Great Hall every morning and evening than there were meant to be, and thus a bigger audience.
Jen glanced up in surprise when she felt the flock of owls winging their way towards the Great Hall. Birds carrying all sorts of letters and packages had been a common sight back when everything was business as usual, but ever since Voldemort had conquered the land, deliveries were sparse. Mostly because anything that could moved by bird could now be hand delivered by the families of students who either had access to Hogwarts's private Floo network, but also because not a few gift-givers were dead by now.
One of the owls swooped down to the table she shared with Tracey, Luna, Morag, and Padma and dropped a long roll of parchment before flapping off. Tracey glanced up from her oatmeal and asked the obvious question. "Why did no one tell me we had our own newspaper press up and running?"
"It's a surprise to me as much as to you." Picking the paper up, Jen blinked at the familiar logo. "Huh. It's, er… It's the Daily Prophet."
"Isn't the Prophet under the control of the Ministry and You-Know-Who?"
"Yes, Padma. Yes it is." She turned it around so her friends could see the headline.
Rebels Found Near White Castle!
Leaders Executed, Members Sentenced to Azkaban
"Shite, they aren't even hiding their biases anymore, are they?" asked Tracey as she unfolded the paper to skim through the pertinent details.
Jen's eyes were drawn instead to the photograph hidden below the fold. No, they clearly were not hiding anything. The photo of the rebel leader was a witch of middling age, and she had been quite legitimately crucified in the middle of a field. A fireball soared in from outside the border, and whatever accelerant she had been soaked in beforehand burst immediately into flames. The witch started burning alive in full view before the photograph looped back to the beginning.
The resolution was poor, but there was something familiar about her—
A scream of horror burst out from the Gryffindors' table, and she glanced over to see which 'brave Lion' had lost their nerve at a little torture when her eyebrows rose. There was a growing commotion from the middle of the table, but that could not stop her from feeling Longbottom curl in on himself with the newspaper still lying on his plate. Now that she thought about it, his scream and now his high-pitched whine were not just horror. There was rage and grief mixed in, too.
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B.Q Book Four: The Black Queen's War
FanfictionFourth and last in the Black Queen series. Jen has just months in which to kill her destined foe, but after defeating the Turk, she is sure she now has a chance to succeed. Unfortunately, Voldemort spent his year's sabbatical uncovering secrets th...
