Metanoia • Harry Potter • Book I

Chapter 5

Word Count: 3280

Keziah was woken up very rudely, the next morning. She had been having a pleasant dream, though she couldn't exactly remember it, and the next thing she knew, she was being hauled into a cramped wooden boat.

"What the hell is going on?" she squawked, thrashing around and feeling her fists hit something. 

"Kezi! Calm down!" Harry yelled, his voice weirdly muffled. She heeded his words and stopped, properly taking a look around. She was being carried by Hagrid. He set her down in the tiny boat they'd used to get to the island.

"Sorry, Keziah. Yeh wasn't wakin' up an' we needed to ge' a move on," Hagrid said, cheerily. 

"S'fine," she groaned, running her hands through her tangled hair. She looked down at her clothes, rumpled and wrinkled from sleeping on the floor and scowled. She redid her boot's laces and smoothed down her appearance.

Harry passed her the cake box when they'd all settled down and she set to devouring the piece left.

"Sleep well?" she asked him, nonchalantly.

"I thought this was all a dream," Harry admitted, pointing at Hagrid.

"Oh, Harry. Like you have enough brainpower to imagine something this crazy," she teased him. Although at first Keziah had been uncomfortable with Harry, after a month in this crazy situation, she'd grown fond of him.

"Shut up," he laughed, shoving her gently. Behind them, Hagrid was fiddling with the boat, tapping it with his pink umbrella.

" Seems a shame ter row, though," the giant said, giving them another sideways look, "If I was ter– er– speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not, Hagrid," Harry and Keziah said together.

"Jinx! You owe me something!" Keziah shouted, playfully punching Harry's arm. He glared at her before breaking into a similar grin. Hagrid, meanwhile, had settled down to read a newspaper. The Daily Prophet. She wrinkled her nose at it, remembering how much of a tabloid it became in the later books.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. Typical, Keziah echoed in her head.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Harry, please. Wizard or Muggle, there's always a government to mess things up," Keziah said reasonably.

"Too right, Keziah," Hagrid agreed, "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister but, o' course, he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if there ever was one. He pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, so he can get advice."

"Then why the hell is he in office?" Keziah asked although the irregularities of the Wizarding World political system was already quite familiar to her. "He's clearly not fit to run this world if he can't even make a decision without consulting Dumbledore. Was there really NOBODY better?"

"Aren't yeh the lil' diplomat? Nah, Wizards aren't the bes' politicians," Hagrid laughed. 

"What does the Ministry even do?" Harry asked.

"Mostly keeps the Muggles from knowin' there are wizards an' witches up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah we're best left alone."

At this moment, the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Keziah eagerly jumped onto dry land.