Amie and the Army (Harry Potter fan-fic) Book 5 COMPLETED

Ups and downs

Amie and the others entered the Great Hall for breakfast at the exact same moment as the post owls on that Monday morning. Hermione wasn't the only person waiting for the Prophet - nearly everyone was eager to hear more about the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite many reported sightings, had still not been caught. Giving the delivery owl a Knut, Hermione eagerly unfolded the newspaper, as an owl landed in front of Harry.
"Who're you after?" asked Harry, removing his glass of orange juice to lean forward and look at the recipient's name and address. As he did so, three, four, five more owls fluttered down beside the first owl, knocking over the salt, treading in the butter, trying to give Harry their letters first. Harry looked very confused.
"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of Gryffindor table, as one, leaned forward to watch as another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, all screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.
"Harry!" said Hermione breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means - open this one first!"

Harry tore open the brown packaging, unfolding a tightly furled copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. Amie sneaked a peak on the front page, which consisted of a big photograph of Harry. In large red letters across the picture were the words:

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

"It's good, isn't it?" said Lund, who'd drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved a hand at the assembled owls on the table in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly. "Harry, d'you mind if we -?"
"Help yourself," said Harry, looking a bit amused.
Amie, Harry, Ron and Hermione all grabbed letters and tore into them.
"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well..."
"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione, looking slightly disappointed.
"This one looks okay, though," said Harry, looking over a long letter. "Hey, she says she believes me!"
"This one believes you too!" said Amie, holding a short note in her hands. "He says he's sorry for believing Fudge!"
"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who'd joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now... Blimey, what a waste of parchment..."
"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" said Hermione excitedly. "'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly... Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth...' Oh this is wonderful!"
"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder," but this one says you've got her converted, and now she thinks you're a real hero - she's put in a photograph too - wow -"
"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.
Amie and the others looked up, their hands full of letters. Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table. Many of the students around the room were watching too, Amie noticed.
"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" she asked slowly.
"Is that a crime now?" said Fred loudly. "Getting mail?"
"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge. "Well, Mr. Potter?"
Harry was quiet for a second.
"People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me last June." said Harry. As he said this, he glanced up at the staff table, before turning back to Umbridge.
"An interview?" repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than they'd ever heard it. "What do you mean?"
"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," said Harry. "Here -"
He threw the copy of The Quibbler at her. She caught it and stared at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned patchy violet.
"When did you do this?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly - with rage, Amie suspected.
"Last Hogsmeade weekend," answered Harry.
She looked up, shaking the magazine with rage.
"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter," she whispered. "How you dare... how you could..." she took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."
She stalked away, clutching the magazine to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.