Toile D’Araignée by MithrilQuill

Ministry Decrees

Ministry Decrees


Blaise watched the grounds from the window in the Room of Requirement next morning, because he was almost sure that the youngest Weasley would need to get out in the fresh air and think and the grounds were the closest she had to freedom. Unless, that is, she decided to believe that their little…alliance could help her achieve some of the freedom she hoped for. He tried not to prepare some sort of speech for when she came to face him with what she knew, but snippets of sentences and words surfaced in his mind whether he liked it or not.


First of all, Wealsey, thank you for… Slytherins did not thank people for anything; it would scare her even if it didn’t scare him. He finally glimpsed her walking down to the half-giant’s hut. Her hair was flying out behind her and the sun reflected on it. She finally reached the hut, but she kept going and Blaise kept trying to adjust his position so she would remain in his line of view. She was running into the forest, the girl was mad. Finally, she was completely hidden in the mass of trees and all he could do was keep watching the edge of the forest until she came out.


Undoubtedly, there were many things for her to consider. She had helped a Death Eater and by now she must have heard of the attack, she must have heard of what they’d done to those people. Weasley had her encounter with the Dark Lord, but Blaise knew that was nothing to bet on, because it made her stronger, it made her more firmly rooted in the side of the good and much more afraid of the grey area that lay between. His only hope was that she would convince herself that he was not dangerous, and that he was her only chance to escape and actually fight.


Suddenly one of the spectral figures of the Thestrals soared out of the trees and flew in a great circle over the forest. It was then that Blaise realized the implications of that night and it hit him like a crashing wave. He had seen death first hand and it had not really affected him at the time, he hadn’t reacted at all then, he was crossing line after line and it could not be turned back, none of it could, but could it be stopped?


He left the window and dropped stiffly into the chair nearby, eyeing the reams of blank parchment on the table before him. He had to do something, and even though Blaise was not usually one for writing anything on his mind, because that felt like relinquishing it, he decided just this once it was necessary to preserve his sanity.


He began making nonsensical lines, wondering what the catch to this room was; it was too smart, too convenient. Whatever you needed was always there, which was not a good thing as every self-respecting Slytherin knew. The door opened and closed, but he did not turn around. All thoughts of a silly speech to try and convince the Weasley girl to at least not turn him in flew out of his head and all there was left was the silence between them.


“Listen, Zabini, I really don’t like this long heart to heart thing so let’s skip it.” Blaise smirked almost imperceptibly and turned around.


“I want one good reason why you became a Death Eater and the reason why you started this…letter-sending thing.”


He did not think that she would turn him in, not anymore, but Blaise did not see much point in trying to come up with lies for this situation, but he was determined to be as short and vague as possible. “You don’t say no to the Dark Lord, Weasley, and don’t think for one minute that I want to trade information so that I can ask to be let into the little Phoenix Club or the Light Side or whatever you call it. I play my own cards and I make my own decisions because I am my own man.”


“Why can’t you say no to the Dark Lord, were you possessed, or imperiused or something?”


“No, Weasley,” Blaise snapped beginning to lose patience, “I have a mother.”


She nodded and then threw her schoolbag on the bed and dropped herself after it. Blaise watched her for a while as she extracted books and scrolls and old crumpled letters. Finally, she took out a Map that looked like it had been ripped right out of the atlas. “Don’t worry, Pince, I used a copying spell.”


He brought his chair closer to the bed and pulled one of the books towards him. There was no way her parents or any of Dumbledore’s group would even think of going near this sort of book. What was the Weasley doing with a very interesting volume of Dark Magic? “So is this another illegal acquisition or did one of your brothers just think you needed a book full of torture spells for Christmas?”


“Neither, what difference does it make?”


“I don’t think you want anyone knowing you have this sort of book on you, Weasley, and anyone who sells this sort of thing can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut.”


“I don’t have enough money to buy it, remember, I found it somewhere, no one knows. Forget the book for now, though, and look at this.”


Blaise leaned closer to look at the map. It was very heavily annotated and there were several large circles around certain spots on the map with strange symbols that could only be of the Weasley’s own invention inside them. “This is a map of exactly where my brother and his friends have been since they left. At least, everywhere they sent detailed letters from. I got Neville to help me with it since he knows a lot about Herbology and they weren’t very careful with descriptions of their surroundings…or Hermione was purposefully leaving a trail so we could find them if they got stuck. Whatever, but notice how all the places they’ve been are areas of high magical activity or significance.”


“Clever, Weasley, very clever,” Blaise said suppressing a smile, “Granger has no idea what she’s left us.”


…


Blaise handed in his spell-invention sign up sheet early next morning and went to his classes feeling considerably more at ease than he had felt in a long time. Between Weasley’s research on the Golden Trio’s mission and his reading in the books she’d found and the hours they’d need to spend finding out who this RAB person could possibly be they would be very busy, but for the first time Blaise really felt like he was his own man. He was controlling his own destiny now.


Perhaps this is why it did not bother him too much when he found out from Celeste that Draco had become something of a regular visitor. And little Sarah actually smiled at him yesterday so I think he’s really beginning to lose that grim, scary look.


Blaise almost wrote something about how dangerous what she was doing was, how it was best to stay away from Death Eaters, but then she began to elaborate on how it felt to be helping him. And it feels good to be actually doing something important for once, he’s trying to teach me some spells, says it would be indecent for a witch to live like a muggle without even knowing what Magic had to offer. It makes me wonder what sort of magic our parents used to do before they died, what their life was like.


He took in a deep breath and decided that even if it was the stupid and wrong thing to do Blaise was not going to let Draco steal his sister from him, he had to be able to talk easily with her as well, even on this stupid notebook that was his idea in the first place. They would be proud of you for saving the poor boy’s soul, I’m sure, how very Hufflepuff of you. Alright, he told himself, flipping the page, maybe he couldn’t completely lose the bitterness, but it was a start.


Oh, don’t! By the way the kids miss you, they said you were the best snowball target they’d ever had.


…


Blaise was thinking about Nott when the alarms went off. They weren’t really loud, clamoring noises, but whispers traveled around the school very fast and the words hit the senses harder than any ringing bells could. Horace Slugorn was Dead. The Head of Slytherin was dead and the Ministry was already here.


He slipped in between the other students and kept his eye trained on the Minister as he strolled through the door followed closely by Fudge. They were followed by a long line of Aurors who immediately began to spread out, but there was also someone else whose presence set off all Blaise’s instincts to run. The man’s face was icy cool and impenetrable, he was an interrogator from the ministry, they had caught the culprit.


McGonagall’s voice boomed all around the halls. “All Students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All prefects must escort their house-mates and ensure that no student is missing. All sixth years and above are to stay on guard and bar the entrances to the common rooms until further notice.”


Blaise sucked in a deep breath and sprung into action. He helped the prefects herd the frightened first-years to the dungeons, which was the last place any of them wanted to go. They passed Slughorn’s office, but there was no sign of anyone or anything there. Blaise wondered if Slughorn had actually been killed or if he had escaped. He supposed it depended on who the killer was.


They remained in the Common Room all night, waiting in a tense almost-silence. The rumors or “eye witness accounts” were still being told. Some third years had apparently seen Anthony Goldstein being escorted to McGonagall’s office with an anti-apparition bind on him, others said they had seen some Ravenclaws in tears and the little fifth year, Bode swore that he saw Terry Boot being levitated to the Hospital Wing by Flitwick.


There was a small part of Blaise that wanted to be triumphant because it was a Ravenclaw thing and none of the Slytherins were involved, but then again, they were only rumors and it would probably turn out that the brave little Ravenclaws were trying to save the Professor or something. Blaise was not surprised, but he was a little disappointed, if Slughorn was dead it proved that he had something to tell, but it also made it impossible to find out what that was. A piece of the puzzle gone.


The thing most on his mind, during those tense hours was whether the school would close. It could not close, Blaise’s position as spy would become obsolete if there was no Hogwarts and he was not ready for what that would mean. He did not want another taste of that night just yet.


McGonagall’s voice finally broke through their doubts near breakfast time the next morning. “All students will proceed to the Great Hall and for Breakfast and then to their classes as usual, prefects please escort first and second years to their lessons before going to your own classes. No student is to be found in the halls in a group of less than five.”


The hard businesslike tone in the Headmistress’s voice told Blaise that she was fighting to keep the school open and it sounded like she’d die before she saw it close. Parents were already arriving to take students home, however, and Blaise wondered how many there would be left. Suddenly, the Ravenclaw table was the star attraction and Blaise noticed that several of that house were missing, among them Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein.


He ate a hurried breakfast, noting that no one was really following the five to a group rule, trust seemed to be lacking this morning and everyone stuck to their closest friends and only their closest friends. The first years were terrified.


He finished eating quickly and left the table, heading straight for the doors where there was something of a back up and a commotion. Weaving his way through the crowd he finally reached the source of the fuss. It was a large sign on the wall:

By Decree of the Ministry of Magic
All Students wishing to remain at Hogwarts must undergo a Ministry inspection before attending their first class. All student correspondences in and out of Hogwarts will be monitored by Ministry officials and any illegal items or correspondences will result in immediate suspension.

Rufus Scrimegour – Minister of Magic


Blaise clutched his bag, which still contained one of Ginny’s books, tightly to his side and slipped out of the crowd as quickly as possible. Chameleon charms were not too reliable, especially in broad daylight, but in all this commotion he would risk it. He cast the charm quickly and ran up to the seventh floor, finding the room that had become his refuge and barreling in. He couldn’t speak to mother, not if the mail was being watched and he could not allow himself to be “inspected”.


The smartest thing to do right now would be to leave and it would not be too complicated to find a way out, but the Ministry was not his biggest worry at the moment. If he left he could be in very big trouble with the Dark Lord. He needed to wait for some sort of sign from either mother or the Dark Lord. Blaise kept his wand in his hand, ready for anything, as he pondered this stupid move of Scrimgeour’s. Was the man daft? He was practically telling the Death Eaters to get their arses out and escape before they were searched. There must be some extra measure taken to ensure no one escaped, Scrimgeour couldn’t be that stupid. Or maybe he was really only concerned for the students’ welfare and wanted the Death Eaters out as fast as possible.


Weasley burst into the room only minutes later, her face as pale as death. “Listen,” she gasped, “Don’t go, I’m going to fix this, I need to fix this. Just don’t leave yet or it’ll be all over.”


“Weasley, what are you talking about, get back to class before someone notices you’re missing.”


“I can’t,” she hissed, “They’ve got the place all surrounded, I swear the entire Ministry is here and they’re searching everyone that leaves too and Mum’s here. I need to get to Headquarters and talk to someone that can talk sense into McGonagall, I need to see Professo-”


“Are you out of your mind, it’s over, just go back with your mum and-”


She grabbed at her robes and began tearing at the left sleeve like an insane person. Blaise tried to grab her wrists to make hers top, but she had already succeeded in tearing the robes open and suddenly, he was face to face with a throbbing red skull and snake.


Blaise took several gasps of air as he examined the thing. It was a Dark Mark. There was no question about it, although the thing was actually carved into her skin as if someone had decided to have fun with a knife. “What is this, Weasley?”


“I thought you knew about my first year.”


He tried not to think about the cold, determined tone in her voice, “Yes, you were possessed and killed a few chickens and petrified the students, but th-”


“He had a knife down there, in the chamber,” she said with a slightly quivering voice, “He made me bleed so that he could suck the life out of me and come back and he had a little fun with the knife. He told me my parents would find the Mark and they would be so ashamed, that I would be shunned, even in death, like a disgusting-”


“Shut up, Weasley, you’re not dead, are you telling me that this thing works like the other ones?”


“It set off some sort of machine they were holding in the fifth floor corridor, but I ran before they could get me. I need to get out of here, Zabini, I need some way to go and fix this. No one can see.”


She was looking him directly in the eye and Blaise knew that it was now time to repay this girl for covering up for him. She needed him to find a way out for her. “There’s a spell,” he began slowly, “I used it before to get out of here and get to a meeting, but I’m not sure if it’ll be strong enough to last you all the way.”


“I just need to get to the grounds then I’ll ride a Thestral.”


“Weasley, can you see those things?”


“Yes.”


Blaise raised his wand and closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact wrist movement for this spell. It should make her unplottable, but for how long, he had no idea and it would take ages getting through the crowded halls and onto the grounds. “Hurry,” he whispered, not sure why he was keeping his voice this low, “I’m going to wait for you for an hour then I’m going to leave this place.”


“Don’t leave Zabini, we still have tons of research to do.”


Blaise grinned and suddenly something clicked in his mind, “Weasley,” he began, “If you happen to come across anything in that place that has to do with Reglus Black bring it back here with you, we have a lot to do after all.”


…


Ginny couldn’t take al this sneaking around any longer. The spell had apparently worn off a while ago and she had been forced to sneak through the Headquarters, from room to room, looking for Professor Lupin. Finally, she found him dozing on an armchair in one of the upstairs rooms near the library.


“Professor,’ she said loudly, a little too loudly perhaps and he awoke with a start, “Professor you have to stop this.”


“What are you doing here, Ginny?” He looked very alarmed and Ginny suddenly realized that her robe was still ripped open and that the mark on her upper arm near her shoulder was clearly visible. “Is it hurting? Are you feeling ill?”


“No,” she said hurriedly, “But Scrimgeour’s made this bloody decree that students have to be searched at school, they’ve got machines and things everywhere and I set one off and almost got caught. Professor, you can’t let them do this, you can’t let them ruin students’ lives, please.”


“I don’t think there’s much I ca-”


“Then I’m finished, because there isn’t anyone else I can talk to. You have to try.”


She tried to keep her gaze fixed on her professor and he suddenly raised his wand and repaired her robes. “Ginevra I need to ask you something and you must be honest with me.”


She did not respond, or make any promises, just waited for him to ask the question.


“Your friend from Hogwarts, is he a Death Eater?”


Ginny set her jaw and glared back at him. “I don’t know Professor, am I a Death Eater? Was I a Death Eater in my first year?”


She didn’t like the sad, tired look that crossed his face then, but he nodded and took her wand hand in his. “I will give you a one-way Portkey to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy on the Seventh Floor, there’s-”


“I know.”


“I want you to stay there until you hear Mcgonagall’s announcement giving you the all-clear. You will know when you hear it if it’s alright to move.”


“Thank you professor.”


“Just go, Ginevra, just go.”

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