Meet The Press
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all characters, etc. here. I'm just playing with her toys.
Summary: Harry must face the press after the Battle for Hogwarts and decide just how much to tell. The second of 2 bridging stories to the sequel of Hermione's Worst Nightmare.
A/N: The detail of the procession was a result of "beatbeat93's" review of Loose Ends. I had written most of this fic earlier, and added the procession that was set up in Loose Ends. So if it does not mesh well as you read—sorry.
Chapter 1: Honouring the Fallen
Harry shifted uncomfortably in the camp bed that was set up for him in Ron's bedroom. The situation seemed somewhat absurd to him. He looked around the room and nothing had changed, certainly not Ron's snoring. It was a sound he had gotten used to over the years, although, falling asleep first was a help. Ron's snoring was peaceful and relaxing in some strange way. Perhaps he should think familiar instead of relaxing, he thought. He could sleep easily. He didn't have to face the wizarding world later that afternoon and make a speech. Harry had been putting off speaking to the press as long as possible. The Battle for Hogwarts was two days ago, and Harry had been hiding at the Burrow, the only home he had ever been fortunate enough to be included in that he could actually remember. The early morning sun was beginning to brighten the room. For a moment the dim light against the tent canvas floated through his mind—almost a year on the run, and camping in all sorts of places.
His mind continued to churn bits of memory of the past year to the surface despite his efforts to return to sleep. What would he tell them? What should he tell them? Everything? How far back should I go? Once they had reached the community hall in Hogsmeade with all the bodies…No, he corrected himself, the fallen would be a better way of thinking of them, Kingsley had spoken to him about a press conference to settle things once and for all for Harry. Kingsley could be very insistent. Their conversation swirled in his head, blocking any attempt at getting more sleep. He had taken Harry aside after the escort to Hogsmeade of the many brave and valiant fighters who gave the ultimate sacrifice in pursuit of freedom.
Flashback
The wand lit procession had made its way down the winding road from Hogwarts. It was only nine o'clock in the morning, but the lighted tips still had a lovely air of respect as they moved. Families, friends, lovers, and colleagues all had carefully wrapped the bodies of the people who had fought in the battle in shrouds. Luna and had gone about the castle finding linens, even curtains from the three defending houses to swaddle them with utmost care as if they were newborns. In the folds of the shrouds and strewn atop them were flowers placed there by Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott.
The Weasley family escorted Fred, surrounding them with their love, lifting him and each other with their support and shared grief together. On either side of Ginny were her brothers, George and Percy, leading the way. Tears streaming down Percy's face the whole way. George walked forward in a trance-like movement as if on automatic. Each foot placed ahead of the other as he numbly walked down the hill leading his lifeless twin towards home. To the right of Fred's lifeless floating form was Ron walking hand in hand with Hermione. Opposite their still brother were Bill and Fleur. Walking behind their son were Molly and Arthur, hands entwined, knuckles showing white as they gripped each other as they drew strength and supported one another simultaneously. Their eyes, bloodshot and swollen, their cheeks drawn downwards as if they had forgotten what smiling was, they moved forward to honour their son. Neither would remember how they arrived in Hogsmeade when asked about it later. It was all too fresh yet.
Harry advanced towards merging in with the procession from the side road that lead to the Shrieking Shack. Ahead of him, he guided the body of Severus Snape, wrapped in the scarlet and gold colours of Gryffindor. No one was paying attention to the actual colour people were being draped with, but Harry thought in this case it was appropriate. The man had had a change of heart; he had turned into the bravest man he knew. To live his life in trying to make up for his wrong doing, sitting at Voldemort's side trying to hide his true nature and loathing of the man who had taken his beloved Lily from the world—Lily Evans, whose heart was as pure as the falling snow. There had been no need to kill her. Stun her, petrify her, or push her aside manually! Her death was an act of cowardice and fear, not strength defining. Harry had seen Snape emotionally ripped apart at his mother's death and the hand he had in it by informing Voldemort of the portion of the prophecy he had overheard Trelawney tell Dumbledore during her interview for a teaching position at Hogwarts all those years ago. Harry would make sure everyone knew that Snape had helped to bring down Voldemort. If Harry himself escorted his body to join the others, Snape would have a chance at public redemption.
Harry watched as the procession continued on. He scanned the long line descending the road from the first place Harry could ever remember considering a home. He spotted the Weasley's, Ginny striding forward flanked by her brothers. Her face like a stone as she held herself together, but a tear slowly made its way down her cheek and dripped from her jaw line on to her dust covered shirt. Ron ambled forward, his face full of grief and subdued anger. He held tightly on to Hermione who cried openly. He let go of her hand and placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer as they walked. Hell of a way to begin your relationship, Harry thought. Then he corrected himself. That relationship had started years ago though neither had acknowledged it openly.
"Not my daughter, you bitch!" (DH, p. 589)
The shriek rang through his head as he looked past his best friends to Molly Weasley. Harry could not help but smile slightly and laugh softly as he thought of the power of the plump matriarch of the Weasleys. She defended her daughter to the death as any mother would, he thought as his own experience weighed heavily on his heart. Bellatrix Lestrange, that maniac of a woman, had taken so much from so many: Neville's parents, Sirius, torturing Hermione…he would be damned if he let her take Ginny too. If Molly hadn't ended that mad woman's life, Harry surely would have.
He couldn't have said it better himself, he thought. Damn, she beat me to it! Except, I don't think I would have stopped at bitch. Admiration swelled up in him for Molly. Is that appropriate? To be feeling proud of someone during a funeral procession? His mind skipped all over the place as he watched such wonderful people escort the valiant fighters who lost the battle for liberty.
Harry's eyes darted about ahead of the Weasleys. Suddenly he was surprised that in his search for Ginny, he had skipped over the lead of the entire procession: Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid walked side by side, Kingsley Shackelbolt followed behind. Their faces held the look of people who had seen too much. But they held their heads high as they escorted two bodies draped in white. Red roses covered one body, while multi-coloured roses covered the more petite one that was magically connected with its partner by a glistening, golden ribbon. Where a bow would normally rest in the center between them, stood a golden phoenix, its wings spread out in flight. Harry's stomach gave a lurch as he realized the teachers were accompanying their fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix: Lupin and Tonks. His chest compressed anew as he felt the weight of the loss of friendship and guidance. He lost his last remaining living connection to his dad. Tears pressed against his eyes. He did nothing to stop them.
"Teddy," he whispered. He froze in his tracks. The child was barely a month old and had lost his parents. He would have no memory of them, like himself with his own parents. "He is not going to live a life of lies," he claimed defiantly. "Your baby is going to know how wonderful his parents were and just how brave you were." He looked up to the sky and whispered, "I promise you. He will know." It was the greatest gift he could imagine giving the child; the gift that Lupin had given him. Tonks had given him protection and laughter—a legacy she left with anyone who knew her. He thought briefly of her clumsiness and knew that quality would become more endearing to him as he would tell her son of her many falls or crashes into things.
He began moving forward again. He could not remember directing his feet to do so, but they had. They felt hollow as he proceded with thoughts of a life without parents assaulting him and he grieved anew for the loss of family for the baby he hadn't even met yet. He wiped at his eyes to focus them on the nearing armada of love. He had intended on joining the procession at the end. He bowed his head in respect to those about to pass him, when the crowd stopped in front of him.
Minerva McGonagall caught his eye. Her eyes moved to the red shroud covered body that Harry accompanied and understood. She glanced briefly at Hagrid to wait a moment and then she approached Harry, their eyes never breaking contact as she neared. Harry would not waver in his decision to include the former headmaster of Hogwarts in this parade of heroes. He did not want to have a row with her about it but was prepared to defend his actions to her if necessary. His discussion with her earlier had centered on clearing his name. He hoped she understood he would do so in action as well as in words.
"Come beside me a moment. Maintain the Hovering Charm," she instructed. Harry fell back into the old teacher-student relationship immediately and obeyed her. As they stood side by side, she flourished her wand and a green sash appeared over Snape's body, trimmed with glittering silver thread. Spaced evenly over the chest was a beautiful cursive script bearing the name: Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts. She fashioned a three dimensional serpent over where his stomach would be. "For his leadership and resourcefulness; two qualities that are admirable in the Slytherin House." She paused a moment and looked at Harry. "I think it would be fitting to include a lion for his courage and bravery."
Harry smiled slightly, before adding, "And a loyalty that no one could know about but Professor Dumbledore." He swallowed, "May I?"
"I hoped you would, Mr. Potter."
Harry flourished his wand and a three dimensional lion appeared. It walked over to the snake that reared up, and the two magical forms entwined their tails together as they stood as three inch sentinels over the body.
The village lay just 100 meters away from them. McGonagall gestured in its direction. "Will you take your place in the lead?"
Harry was startled. "I thought I would join in at the end." He didn't want his position as the Chosen One to usurp the proceedings.
Minerva McGonagall's eyes looked thoughtful before she spoke. "That would defeat the goal of restoring his dignity," she said as she gestured towards the body they had just adorned. "Like it or not, you are the leader here Mr. Potter, for a few more moments anyway. Lead by example. If he has earned your forgiveness, others' will follow."
"She's right, Harry," said Hagrid as he approached. He smiled compassionately at the young man whom he had carried twice in his life. Hagrid had picked him from the rubble of his destroyed house in Godric's Hollow sixteen years ago and carried him away from the "dead" body of Voldemort. Tonight he had carried Harry's "dead" body as Voldemort pushed him onwards. A painful lump in his throat threatened him anew as he thought of the totured walk through the forest. He cleared his throat and stood tall beside the Headmistress, encouraging Harry to take the lead.
Harry took a deep breath and moved into the procession and lit his wand tip. Somehow, he put one foot in front of the other and continued into Hogsmeade. His gaze straight ahead, he noticed the people of the village had erected multiple archways of the little bluebell flames that Hermione often made. They covered the street from side to side in a canopy of pretty blue all down Main Street. At the base of each archway was an enchanted white rose that seemed to weep. Each petal slowly peeled itself from the stem and fell to the ground and disappeared. When all the petals had fallen, the flower would regenerate and begin the process all over again. The people of Hogsmeade all stood in silence outside their homes, and shops with their wand tips ignited. In each doorway, was another enchanted weeping rose. As each body was brought into town, four townspeople joined as an honour guard, escorting them into the hall and placing them there with care to await instructions from the families. They would be transported on the Hogwarts Express which had been routed there, or Apparate the bodies to the intended homes, or funeral parlor.
The Three Broomsticks had opened early for the mourners to have a place to sit and wait as needed. As Harry left he hall and began making his way towards the tavern, he was intercepted by Kingsley.
"Harry, I don't mean to be indelicate, but you will need to be interviewed by the Ministry about everything. You know…how he did it." Shackelbolt took an uncomfortable breath in. "And there will need to be a press conference. The Ministry will handle it, of course, but the people will want to hear from you."
"If Rita Skeeter is there, I'm not saying a word!" he had barked at Kingsley Shackelbolt. The man who upon entering the village had just been informed he had indeed been chosen as the interim Minister for Magic was taken aback. He had not expected Harry to be overly pleased about the press conference that had been arranged, but the venom that seemed to drip from Harry's mouth and the narrowing green eyes told him this was one point that was not to be questioned.
He had not meant to put Harry on the defensive. Kingsley berrated himself for adding to the young man's burden and tried to lighten the moment. Shackelbolt smirked, amused that the young man had already seen through the popular reporter. "They aren't all like her, you know. But, I understand completely. That woman drove me crazy with the things she wrote. When you know what's really going on, it's scary how wrong the press is when they report and the whole public goes along for the ride," he said bitterly.
Harry's shoulders visibly relaxed. He had an ally here and he knew it. He shouldn't have snapped at him. Harry had not encountered many people who worked at the ministry whom he respected and trusted. Mr. Weasley was one for sure, and Kingsley too. They had integrity. The more people with power Harry met, the less enamored he was with their status. Many had compromised their principles even before Voldemort had come to power in Harry's mind. Amelia Bones came to mind suddenly. He had not thought of her in quite some time. She had dared stand out against corruption. She had paid the highest price for it. Dumbledore had told him once that they would all be forced to make the decision of doing what was easy or doing what was right. The right choice seemed so clear back then.
The right choice…the right choice…Harry rolled over in bed and squeezed his eyes tight. He tried to force his brain to stop thinking…The right choice. What do I say?
But now Harry realized that doing what was right often meant sacrificing the safety and security of those you love. He looked at Ron, sleeping, and then the home he was in, the Weasley's. They were members of the Order of the Phoenix; doing their best to stand up to the corruption of the Dark Lord, knowing full well that their actions could put their children at risk, could leave them without parents. That was brave, Harry thought.
Why in the world are they asking me to make a speech for killing a man when I had absolutely nothing to lose? People like the Weasley's could have lost everything and risked their lives anyway. The world did indeed work in mysterious ways that he was only now beginning to comprehend.
The conversation with Shackelbolt churned in his mind. He tried to shut it off. He turned over again, his eyes opened for some reason. He noted the empty owl cage up in the corner shelving of Ron's room. Suddenly, he missed Hedwig terribly. He could no longer sleep and yet it was the one thing he craved above all. Well, truth be told, what he craved was sleeping four floors below in the same room as Hermione. Harry sat up. Nope, there was no way he was going back to sleep now, not with Ginny in his head. He grabbed his glasses, got dressed as quietly as possible and headed downstairs for some tea.
A/N: I actually cried when I wrote the stuff about Teddy and Harry whispering to the sky. I had so much more in my head but thought it would get morbid to put it all in. I understood JKR crying as she wrote the Forest Again chapter. The end of the chapter is supposed to feel a bit scattered, yet ideas should flow into and out of one another and hopefully you see the connections—a free write of the mind is what I was after. It is done purposefully so that you feel Harry's stress level over the conference as well as the fact that his mind was wandering everywhere.