Blindness

Chapter 14: The White of Flame and Inferius

Rufus Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at the venerable, and extremely innocent looking, elderly wizard.

"We find significant evidence of substantial use of fiendfyre only ten kilometers from Hogwarts, and you expect us to believe you don't know anything about it?"

Albus Dumbledore folded his arms.

"Some of the damage you speak of was done quite a few months ago. I can only assume some students were experimenting."

Rufus flung his hands into the air.

"Experimenting? With dark magic? And what of the recent damage? Students sneaking back into school to practice said dark magic?!"

Dumbledore sighed deeply.

"I cannot say, Minister. I do not monitor the grounds outside Hogwarts and Hogsmeade at all hours of every day. I do have important duties."

Rufus slapped one palm down on his desk.

"Fine. But if I find one more instance of evidence of the use of dark magic in that area I will be sending in a team of aurors to investigate. There are still Death Eaters out there, and rumors of them raising some sort of force. Over a dozen reports of witches and wizards disappearing on their own property, then several more failed attempts by masked Death Eaters to apprehend them. The Ministry has been forced to place a warning in the Daily Prophet."

Dumbledore clasped his hands in his lap.

"I read the statement myself. The information is alarming. Have you any leads?"

Rufus resisted the desire to snarl; Albus Dumbledore, for all that he tried to look innocent and grandfatherly, held significant power behind him. It wouldn't do to rail at the man like his predecessor, and find himself kicked from office months later.

"They're in Scotland, in the wilderness. Four or five Death Eaters, no doubt led by Crouch Jr."

"Close to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore raised a brow, and Rufus shook his head.

"No, I don't think so." His eyes narrowed. "And I doubt they were flinging Fiendfyre about, either, but I'm leaving no stone unturned. I have groups scouring the mountains. It's only a matter of time before we find them."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"I wish you luck, Minister."

Rufus sat back in his chair, eyes drawn to the large map of the country on his wall, the parchment marked with multiple lines drawn in red and blue.

"I don't believe in luck."

-O-O-

Harry leaned back into the sofa cushions, one arm tossed around Hermione's shoulders as she rested against him, a slim book of tan light cradled in her hands as she read aloud.

The Grangers had thrown him a birthday party at their house; he was now sixteen years old.

He absently listened to the comforting rise and fall of Hermione's voice as she read about the life of Albert Einstein, a renowned physicist who had invented the theory that Harry hoped to reconcile with magic. A book given to him by Dudley, who saw the word physics on the front and assumed Harry would find it interesting. Harry hadn't had the heart to tell the other boy he already knew nearly everything there was to know about Einstein, from biographies three times the size of the one Hermione read from.

It was certainly still nice to listen to Hermione read, her familiar soft tones rising and falling, while the rest of his and Hermione's families talked in laughing tones to one another around the large dining room table and scattered living room chairs. Mrs. Granger had his aunt off in the corner with two of Hermione's aunts, all discussing something in whispered tones. His uncle and one of Hermione's uncles were talking about the latest renovations to their favorite golf course, while Hermione's dad and her other uncle ranted about automobile designs and car racing tracks, with Mr. Granger far preferring Formula One while the uncle thought anything other than dirt tracks were pretentious and overly driven by endorsement deals.