Standing Against the Tides

Last time I looked at my driver’s license, it did not say J. K. Rowling. Yep, it’s just me, an unpaid and unknown aspiring writer. The characters of the Potterverse do not belong to me and I am making no money from this endeavor.

A/N: Spoilers through OotP. As I am still in denial, I refuse to acknowledge the events of HBP or DH at this point.

Unbeta’d as BabyGurl is busy with her own life.





Chapter 42 Plots and Rude Awakenings

“Hermione, I thought we were going to go sit with Harry now…” Ron trailed off, instinctively ducking when a flaming projectile sailed passed his head just as he entered the Gryffindor Common room. Tired as he was, the last thing he had been expecting was to have to dodge any more dangerous items today. Cautiously looking around, the young red-haired man saw several of his house mates cowering before the fearsome visage of his raging girlfriend.

“Um, Hermione?” Ron hesitantly approached the obviously irate girl. “Is there something wrong?” Gulping, he really hoped that he would be spared the wrath brewing in the wild-haired witch’s eyes.

“That foul, stupid, moronic, idiotic, imbecilic, tedious, odious cretin! How dare he!? He won’t get away with this!” Hermione exclaimed.

Carefully nearing the girl as one would a wild animal, the young Weasley male attempted to determine just what had set the normally rational girl off before he could decide whether he should run for the hills or not. “Hermione, please tell me what is wrong,” the young man pleaded.

The young witch forced herself to take a deep breath before answering. “Fudge. Fudge is what is wrong, Ronald. He is spreading more of his vicious lies in The Daily Prophet,” she bit off angrily. With that Hermione turned and sank down in one of the couches in front of the fire and put her head in her hands.

Worried now at what lies the idiotic Minister was spouting, Ron walked over to where some of the nervous younger students were still gathered. Seeing that one of them was hastily attempting to hide his copy of the newspaper, Ron reached over and grabbed it from the boy.

“Thanks, mate. You lot had better run along now,” he advised.

Only after the younger children had fled the Common Room did Ron look down at the paper in his hands.

“Bloody hell! What a load of rubbish!” he exclaimed upon reading the opening sentences of the article. However, his amazement quickly turned to anger as he continued to read.

Harry was not going to like this. Come to think of it, Ron knew that his mother would likely have a few choice words for the Minister before this was all said and done. The young Gryffindor shuddered to think of the damage his mother and his best friend could do to the idiot without even trying. On the other hand, maybe he should just take a page from Fred and George’s book and make some popcorn and sit back and watch the show.

Taking a deep breath, the young man tried to calm down. “Come on, Hermione. Harry needs us now. We can sort this out later,” Ron once again tried to reason with his girlfriend.

His words seemed to finally cut through the haze of anger and Hermione stopped to look at her boyfriend. Sighing, she answered, “You’re right, Ron. But we can’t say a word of this around Harry. We don’t want to upset him while he is recovering.”

Shrugging, the young man was just happy that the girl was no longer screaming and throwing flaming objects around the room. An angry Hermione was a truly scary sight.


Merlin save her from enraged Weasleys, Minerva thought irritably. At the moment, her office was overrun with nearly the entire clan, all yelling and arguing that something needed to be done about Fudge and the lies he was spreading about Harry and Severus. On top of that, the Deputy-Headmistress had already spent half an hour explaining why she had allowed the Minister and a squad of his fully-trained Aurors to whisk the Potions Master away to begin with.

Finally, what little patience the witch had was gone. “Silence,” Minerva ordered in a firm voice, her Scottish brogue thickened by her indignation at the situation. “We are agreed that we have a problem of major proportions here, but we will get nowhere by arguing with one another.”

“What we need is a plan on how to get our dear Professor Snape back,” Fred began.

“And put Fudge in his place,” George continued.

“All while keeping our hot-headed Harry from blowing the idiot and the Ministry up in the meantime,” Fred finished.

Well used to the twins’ antics after having been their Head of House for several years, Minerva didn’t even bat an eye at their joint conversation. Instead she offered a brisk “Indeed,” before turning to the other people in the room. “Does anyone have any useful suggestions as to how we might actually achieve these goals?”

Arthur’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he considered the possibilities. “Perhaps you might consider contacting that Skeeter woman again. She did a right bang up job of tearing Cornelius down the last time. It shouldn’t be too difficult to convince people of the truth of the matter, once we have her quill on our side.”

Charlie scowled. “One would hope that, Dad. But the one thing I’ve learned is that the Wizarding public is fickle at best and close-minded at worst. We may have to consider doing more than just taking our side of the story to the press. We may also have to mount a smear campaign against Fudge in order to discredit him and his story.”

Molly was aghast at this idea. “Surely that won’t be necessary, Charlie,” she protested.

The young dragon handler turned to his mother. “I think it is, Mum. The Minister won’t stop until he has Professor Snape is in Azkaban and has made sure that Harry is no longer a threat to him. We have to make sure that Fudge can’t hurt Harry again.” Charlie paused for a moment before his smile brightened. “Maybe it’s time we had a new Minister of Magic. I’m sure Harry would be only too happy to put his support behind someone who was actually willing to work for the Wizarding World rather than just themselves.”

“We’ll see, son,” Arthur reluctantly agreed. He may be a Ministry employee, but that didn’t mean that he enjoyed the politics of the job. Most certainly, there were many who could point to his lack of advancement in the ranks of the Ministry as proof of that claim. Perhaps, though, if he had known what his second oldest child was thinking he might have been even more concerned. But as it was, Arthur Weasley was at the moment still blissfully unaware of the schemes that his son had already begun weaving.

“That settles it then,” Minerva interjected. “I will contact Rita Skeeter and arrange an interview with her for tomorrow. Now we must plan just what we intend to tell this nosy reporter.”

With that the group got down to the serious business of counteracting Cornelius Fudge’s lies. Or at least as serious as any group that included the Weasley twins could be.


Kingsley Shacklebolt strode purposefully down the familiar corridors of the Ministry’s Auror Headquarters. Passing the Observation Room, he nodded at the young Aurors stationed inside. As a senior Auror, Kingsley had immediate access to most areas of the Ministry and he intended to take advantage of that fact now.

The dark-skinned wizard stopped outside the cell door of the one prisoner he most needed to speak to before he performed the errand he had been sent to do. Discretely waving his wand, Kingsley erected a privacy bubble that the Aurors in the Observation Room would not be able to detect.

“Severus, I know you can hear me,” Kingsley spoke quietly, looking around just to make sure they really were alone. “We are working on getting you out of here, but for now you must know that your young man is resting comfortably and that Madame Pomfrey expects him to awaken at any moment.” The tall Auror chuckled before continuing, “However, I think that he will have quite a few choice words to say about this situation once that occurs and he learns what has happened to you. We will do our best to keep him from acting rashly, though I hesitate to promise anything on that score. I will be back when I have more news for you. Just know that you are not alone in this.”

Sighing, the tall man glanced down the empty hallway. “Now I am going to visit Bellatrix Lestrange to give her some of your potion. If your theory is correct and Dumbledore was the cause of her madness, then her soul may be salvageable. I don’t hold out any hope for her mind, but at least it’s something. I can tell you that the potion worked for your old mentor. His soul is clear of the darkness, though he is now just a squib. Perhaps that is for the best after all that he has done.” With one last look at the man lying helpless in the holding cell, Kingsley cancelled the privacy spell and left Severus Snape to his dismal thoughts.

As the Aurors had thoughtfully placed the members of the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle in the most secure area of the Ministry holding cells, Kingsley had only to take a few steps before he reached the cell containing Bellatrix Lestrange. Peering inside, he noted that the witch was similarly held immobile by Secure-Spells and that it would be safe to approach her.

Still seeing no signs of the other Aurors, Kingsley erected another privacy ward before he deactivated the security spells on the door to her cell. Carefully stepping inside, the dark man warily eyed the volatile witch. Without a word, the Auror removed the potions vial he had previously hidden in his robes. Uncorking the top, he dribbled the contents down the bound woman’s throat. Wand raised, Kingsley watched as a foul, dark mist began to seep out of her mouth and nose. Muttering the spell that Minerva had taught him, Kingsley was gratified to see that the mist dissipated into nothingness. The Auror looked at the Lestrange woman and was surprised to see that her eyes were open and surprisingly clear.

“Well, Bellatrix, I do believe that you will find life to be quite a bit different from now on. And now if you don’t mind, I really must be going,” Kingsley nodded politely to the witch before leaving her alone in her cell. His mission completed, the Order member headed out so that he could report back to the Deputy-Headmistress at Hogwarts.


Soft voices floated past his ears as Harry struggled to open his eyes. He felt so heavy and so very tired, but there was something, something very important that he needed to do. But what? He attempted to remember, but it slipped away from him like gossamer strands on the wind. Harry floated for a while longer before he tried again. Once again the thoughts danced away before he could catch them. Frustrated with that, Harry tried once more to wake up, but each time he moved closer to consciousness, something would pull him back down, whispering that he should just rest. ‘Sleep, that sounds good,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘wonder if Sev is here with me? Sev!’

Ah, that was the impetus Harry needed to propel himself out of his fugue. Gasping, the young man awoke and carefully opened his eyes against the soft lights of the infirmary. A screech of “Harry!” from his best friend had him cringing down into his bed before he was attacked by a hysterical girl.

“Erm, I’ll just go and get Madame Pomfrey, mate,” Ron said quietly as he silently commiserated with his friend’s predicament. “Hermione, you might give the man some air, he just woke up you know.” Shrugging when the witch ignored his advice, Ron went off to find the Medi-Witch. Certainly she could save his best mate from his girl friend.

Weakly raising a hand to pat his friend’s arm, Harry wondered what all the fuss was about. Surely things weren’t that bad? “Um, Herm?” he whispered.

“Oh, Harry,” the young witch pulled back finally, looking rather sheepish. “I guess I got carried away. It’s just that we’ve been waiting for you to wake up and so much has happened and…”

“Ah, Mr. Potter. I was told that you had finally decided to grace us with your presence,” the Medi-Witch briskly remarked as she approached the hospital bed. “Miss Granger, if you please.”

Fortunately for both Harry and Hermione, the young witch instinctively obeyed the stern woman’s implied directive and immediately moved away from the bedridden wizard.

Flicking her Medi-wand in practiced moves over the young Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey was pleased to find that her patient had recovered nicely from his ordeal. That did not mean that she was quite ready to let him off the hook, so to speak, just yet.

“Now, Mr. Potter, it seems as if your magic levels are recovering nicely. However, you took some rather nasty hexes out there on the battle field and I still need to run some tests to determine if there have been any lasting damage from those,” Poppy informed the young man.

Sighing, Harry sank back into his pillow. He should have expected that the woman wouldn’t have let him go so easily. Obediently swallowing the pain potion he was given, Harry allowed the Medi-Witch to run her scans on him as his friends stood nearby. Fawkes chose that moment to bust into being in the air over Harry’s bed. Softly alighting on the rails of the headboard, the phoenix steadfastly ignored the disapproving glare the Medi-Witch sent his way. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his human needed him.

Ignoring the ‘tuts’ and ‘tsks’ the woman made every so often as she worked, Harry instead focused on which questions he most needed answered. The first one was easy. Severus – where was he and why wasn’t he here? After that, Harry supposed he should make sure that he really had been successful in defeating Moldy Shorts. From there, he’d just have to see where the conversation went and what his friends had to say.

Stepping back, the matron straightened. “Well, Headmaster, I am happy to report that you will indeed make a full recovery,” She held up a hand to forestall the young man as he sat up in anticipation of being allowed out of his hospital bed. “Not yet, Mr. Potter. While you will recover, you still need to rest as your body has endured a great deal of stress in the battle.”

Realizing that she had put off the inevitable for as long as possible, Madame Pomfrey pulled out a vial containing a Calming Draught and instructed her patient to drink it. While he complied, the Medi-Witch surreptitiously waved her wand, securing the young man to his bed. She didn’t want to take any chances of him hurting himself once he learned what had happened to his soul mate. The stern woman nodded to his friends, and allowed them to come forward so that they could fill the young man in on what had transpired during his stay in the infirmary.

The two Gryffindors hesitantly came forward and took seats next to the bed. Neither was looking forward to having to tell their friend about his soul mate. Ron looked over to see that Madame Pomfrey was standing by, ready to stun her patient if need be. Taking a deep breath, the red-head looked his best mate in the eye as he began.

“Harry, there’s something you need to know,” Ron carefully said. Swallowing painfully around the lump in his throat, he bravely pressed on, “After you collapsed, Fudge and the Aurors arrived. Well, you know how he is, mate. Thinks he knows what is what and won’t take anyone else’s word for it. Harry, I’m sorry, but they took Professor Snape into Ministry custody. We tried to stop them, really we did, but Fudge threatened the whole lot of us. In the end we had no choice but to let them take him.”

The three humans warily watched the volatile young man as he processed what he was told. Fawkes began trilling a soothing song in an attempt to tame his human’s emotions. Harry tried to get up from his bed only to find that he seemed to be rather firmly stuck to the thing. Harry took turns glaring at the Medi-Witch and the phoenix that was determined to calm him. Well, he didn’t want to be calmed! His mate was in danger and needed him, by Merlin!

Finally giving it up as a lost cause, the young Headmaster crossed his arms in defiance and sat back. He settled instead for scowling at all involved.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione cried, “I know this is hard, but we are working on freeing Professor Snape. He’ll be out before you know it. Professor McGonagall and the Weasleys are working on an article for Rita Skeeter and The Daily Prophet to counter Fudge’s lies about you and the professor and I know that we will think of something too.”

“Lies, what lies?” Harry’s voice was dangerously low and the others instinctively grasped their wands a bit tighter.

“Well, uh, you see, mate, it’s like this… er,” Ron began with his usual eloquence.

Shaking her head, Hermione cut in, “Honestly, Ronald. Harry, Fudge took the entire credit for the victory over V-voldemort and then went on to say that Professor Snape was still a Death Eater and that he was corrupting you and grooming you to be the next Dark Lord. So you see, we must not only counter his lies publicly, but we must discredit him as well.”

Awkwardly patting his best mate’s shoulder, the young red-head said, “It will be all right, Harry, you’ll see. After all, we’ve got Hermione and my mum on our side. Fudge doesn’t stand a chance against those two.”

Vibrant green eyes met his friends’ eyes and Harry hoped they were right. For Severus’ sake they had to be.