Harry James Potter was born into a world ready and willing to destroy him. Just little over a year old and he had lost everything. It would be a loss that would haunt him throughout his life but never so strong as on a sleepless night on an empty stomach in the cupboard under the stairs. Or with death's cold breath from the mouth of a Dementor.
At seventeen his nightmares are much the same - with a few terrible additions - even after he is murdered by the ghost of a man who had killed his parents.
But he survives.
Again and again.
And after everything, he chooses to return. Finish what begin so long ago at the foot of his crib. He forced the air back into his lungs, suffers silently the thunderous orchestra of his fool heartbeat. Pretends to be dead, keeps still, allows Voldemort his fun even as he smothers agony and humiliation.
That, however, is far easier than listening to Neville even as pride that is not his to feel rises in this heart. Neville who was always so timid, so scared, standing up to a dictator whose own followers couldn't say his name.
Their second wind comes. Harry stands.
Keeps standing.
And lives.
Whatever remains of Tom Riddle falls, finally at rest to the ground of what once had been his home. Their home. The home he had attempted to destroy. And Harry stands over him, stands over the cloaked, inhuman form. He stares unable to move even when he knows - knows - that Voldemort is dead.
He has a wand clapped into both hands. Both are indisputably his, yet both so very foreign and he needs that. Desperately needs someone to acknowledge that one had not always owned him like it did now. Didn't know how Dumbledore could tolerate it. Didn't know how Voldemort could want it.
Staring at Voldemort and it was a marvel that the was able to remain on his feet. Harry was exhausted. He had given this everything he had, arguably for as long as he had been alive. This - this fight - this conflict - had consumed him. The burden was no longer there. The responsibility of a whole world full of people gone. It was no longer suffocating him through duty and expectation and left him almost gasping for breath.
So Harry stood. Didn't move even as the ruined Great Hall - once so brilliant with its enchanted ceiling and glass windows - was lit with life through the cheers that song out, despite the dead. Despite the bodies, Harry could sense. Could feel, empty. so, so hollow a sense it was.
Harry did not join in. Could not feel an ounce of what everyone was. Stood, probably in a numb shock as he continued to stare and stare. The few that approached him did not stay long and he did not remember who did. Most simply gave them his space even when Aurors - battle uniforms, wands were still drawn despite the lack of threat - came with healers. They were escorting students home or to St Mungo's and were they? When everyone was bleeding and fighting and dying? Where were they?!
There was one particular loud Auror that tried talking to him. Tried moving him. Before the Bloody Baron interfered and drove the man away, allowing Harry to keep his vigil. Allowed him his silent thoughts and to steady his empty chest.
He may have fallen asleep like that, on his feet but still so ready to cast that his hands were humming with his magic, electric and still so eager. Or perhaps he was in such a daze that he simply drowned himself out until another voice was talking to him. It was solid and heavy in a way no ghost's should be.
Idly he wondered how long he had been there when he noticed how empty it now as. He still everything had become.
But…he knew that. The name his mind led him to was probably the only reason he tried to focus on it. 'You'll forgive me for saying but…you were so young when we first met. So small. I knew who you were. Knew your parents to an extent but wasn't sure…it was so much to ask of anyone. But Dumbledore always had faith. Always believed.'
Harry had started to respond but didn't even get to fully processing the order to open his jaw fully before his teeth were tightly locked again. He hadn't anything to say. He was past replying for politeness or pretending that really meant something to him when it didn't. Of course, Kingsley would have doubts. Everyone had. And yes, Dumbledore would believe. He always did. Probably could not allow himself to think that everything he had planned for could be for nothing otherwise.
Really, all Harry was, was pain. The effects of the Cruciatus were like a part of him at this point. Add to that all the other scraps he had managed to earn during the battle, the fatigue that had built up during his time camping and he was past everything.
Kingsley cleared his throat awkwardly. Harry would have ordinarily felt of the man but he was shattered, in pain and wanting - what? A bed? Something to eat? He didn't even know but it was something. There just had to be something.
'I've…I've taken over the Ministry.' Kingsley admits. 'I'm - I'm going to be our next Minister with how many positions were taken over by Death Eaters. I…I'm going to be sworn in, in a few days.'
Harry blinked. Surprise welling in his stomach like the bubbles of an overdone potion. He hadn't even thought about that. His mind had been so caught up in the damage that thinking about - about fixing what was broken - or always broken but corrupted beyond repair - hadn't even entered the realm of his comprehension.
Harry honestly hadn't thought that were would anything after this - this war. Maybe it was because he didn't think he would survive. He didn't know but the idea that he would have to keep going left him flat-footed.
'I…understand that I have no right to ask this of you, Mister Potter.' Kingsley had started. He was in obvious discomfort, Harry could tell without even turning away from Voldemort's mutilated features. 'But I need to know, going forward…if you would support me?'
Harry had been involved with two Minister too many and the both of them though they had differed had obviously wanted things from him. It, however, had never held the same sort of sentiment before. He was now overly familiar with greedy, cowardly men trying to gain his approval. All you had to do was look at Voldemort, the image of where power brings people once they have been corrupted beyond any normal recognition, to understand what sort of road it can lead you down.
But Harry still considers. Now thinks. Brain not as much of a haze with a fire being lit in his stomach. The Ministry was as good as destroyed from Voldemort's influence. Hundreds had died and thousands upon thousands had been hurt. The dust was settling. Maybe - maybe Harry could -
Harry allowed himself to breathe. The smell of death hit the back of his throat but he still replied: 'That would depend.'
'…on what?' Kingsley asks cautiously. Harry had never been - but perhaps the man had a right to his wariness. Harry, himself, was no longer sure of who he was with a purpose that was not so clear now.
Harry managed to move. The world greyed as he did so but he had no intention of collapsing and stubbornly held onto his grasp of conciseness. He pins a deep stare onto a man, a man who had, had his back. Who Harry would have protected in turn. He was stood with a back that was ramrod straight and his muscles were so tense that it pulled his threadbare robe taut against his frame.
'It would depend on if you recognise what brought us here.'
It wasn't just Dark Lords that were the problem. Harry had become increasing aware of that. It was the Wizarding Worlds ideology. It's the Purebloods that can't tolerate Muggleborns and Muggleborns who - with no guidance with this new world that is sprung on them - can't adopt; don't see a different culture for what it is. It's the system that forces people apart. That makes creatures suffer and turn them into something dark. Harry would be a fool not to see it after all this time.
The widening of Kingsley's eyes indicate the man's surprise but Harry didn't know what to make of the tired if not outright depressed smile that creeps across too pale cheeks like a shadow. 'I'm not sure if my answer to that would satisfy you.'
'Thats not an answer at all so try me.' Harry says without inflexion, very much done with deflection and omissions, half-truths and lies. Why people couldn't just say what they wanted, he would never understand.
Kingsley sighed but inclined his head in an unneeded acknowledgement. 'No, it wasn't.' He agrees before raising his hands to scrub over his face. 'We got here through racism. Through our institutionalised bigotry. I know what you're trying to say -'
'Do you?'
Kingsley closed his eyes. 'Those words aren't mine…I learnt them from my stint in the Muggle World while I was protecting the Prime Minister. The Muggles taught me a lot. Made me realise what I didn't fully comprehend.' He explains bluntly. 'Your asking me this because you want to know if the next Minister will allow another Voldemort.'
Harry nods. 'And?'
'Honestly, I can't say it couldn't happen. I'm not a politician. I'm an auror. I have no idea how this will go but I don't think I'm right for the position.'
A spark of interest lit Harry. He remembers Dumbledore's words about leadership and how the men who lusted after power were often times unsuited for it while those who had it thrust upon them were usually more worthy.
'Oh?' Harry sounded in a noncommittal fashion to try and prompt Kingsley to keep talking.
'Voldemort was a criminal. His acts were evil and his regime was oppressive.' Kingsley starts clearly before addressing Harry with repeat Harry does not feel entitled to. 'But…I saw your duel. I saw both the best and worst of what this World can do. It - if we could fix the way this society works - if we could do that -'
'Won't be quite so easy, though, will it?'
Kingsley grimaces. 'No. No, it's not but…I hope to be able to make a difference with your help.'
'As the hero of the hour.' Harry mutters, bitterness welling inside. The Wizarding World was fickle, it always had been and it always would be. Harry didn't for one moment think that his effort against Voldemort would help that.
Kingsley's lips pulled down unhappily. It was a testament to his honesty that he had not denied it. 'The first thing I did was dismiss everyone in the Ministry. We'll build from the ground up. It'll be a complete overhaul.' He said with a breath, tentatively taking a step forward.
'Sounds like a lot of work.' Harry idly comments. Kingsley's shoulders droop. Uncomfortable, Harry glances back to Voldemort, and his thoughts churn with how much damage one hurt boy was able to do. Maybe - maybe this was the next step; fixing what Voldemort had broken. Kingsley was undoubtedly a good man with good intentions. Ones Harry could get behind, would be able to support.
'What convinced you?' Harry asks.
Kingsley's lips quirked into something that almost resembled humour. 'England?'
Harry's eyebrows crawled up in confusion. 'Pardon?'
Harry wouldn't get an explanation until a couple of weeks later. After the battle he had spent his time recuperating with Keature's help, who would wake him from nightmares, clean up after his accidental magic and would feed him.
(Keature was a blessing but Harry also sometimes found it difficult to look at the house elf. The actions that had led to the death of his godfather had left a chip in his heart. Forgiving, after all, was hard. Keature, however, was making up for it and had stopped speaking poorly of Sirius.)
Harry felt a bit more human; a bit more put together. He was operating on more than four hours of sleep and most of his cuts and bruises had healed with only the worst of his injuries still healing of which, all of them would be a push over to ignore if only the trembling in his limbs would ease.
(The Healer he had gone to see with Hermione and Ron had said a potion would help but after the Battle, they were in short supply so Harry had chosen to go without. He had a high pain tolerance and the trembling didn't really inhibit him so he could make do much to his friend's exasperation.)
Kingsley had said to rest up and then come in; that there was plenty to do regardless. Like the restoration of Hogwarts and fixing Diagon Alley, among other things. But Harry felt - well, ready wouldn't be…right. But he was starting to get cabin fever. He needed out. He needed to be doing something. So he asked Keature to fetch Sirius' leather jacket he had discovered in the cloakroom and left for the Ministry with his wand close to hand.
Kingsley had never looked so relieved to see him; happy and altogether too thankful with a tired face and exhausted eyes as he shook Harry's slightly shaking hand. 'Mister Potter -'
'Harry.' He corrected.
'Harry, then. Thank you for coming.' Kingsley's emphasis and probably senses Harry's discomforted as he quickly changes tack and gestures to the only other person around; the auror manning the entrance who had informed Kingsley of Harry's arrival. 'Harry, please meet William Jarsdel, Head Auror.'
The man is just tipping over what would be considered tall. Not overly board but in good shape, Jarsdel was a middle-aged man who had an overly sharp face with deep-set eyes. 'Head of what?' I'm the only fool here.' Jarsdel huffed though he didn't look particularly annoyed about this.
'He was partner's with Mad Eye during their junior days.' Kingsley informs which has Harry's eyes widening. 'He's been an asset for years but his particular politics made sure he didn't advance.'
Jarsdel snorts. 'That's one way to say it.' He comments but turns to address Harry, face seeming to soften as he holds out a hand. 'Nice to meet you, Potter. Kind of you to help with our radical problem.'
Harry thinks laughter wells in his stomach and he smiles but still doesn't know how to face a person's thanks with how sincere and in good humour it was. 'Just Harry is fine.'
'We'll have more time to talk later, there's someone else I'd like you to meet.' Kingsley states as he puts a light hand on Harry's shoulder.
Kingsley walks Harry through Level One and all its empty offices until they reach one at the end of the hallway with the biggest door than the ones they had already past.
Kingsley opens the way for Harry, allowing him through first. He glances at the large desk buried in paperwork with red, sparking missives flapping about. He looks at the large portrait behind Kingsley's chair of two middle age men talking on a castle's battlements.
He watched them for a minute or two before his eyes are drawn to a presence he had been so slow to notice. A man, taller than Harry by a head or so who was staring at him with undisclosed interest that was deep and all too intensive for it to be simple passive staring.
The man was blond with pale green eyes and an impressive pair of eyebrows that took over the man's forehead. He seemed straight-laced and serious but his expression was gentle as he looked at Harry, like that of an older brother.
Even then, though, with all that he seemed like a man of rank with his green military style suit, there was something...about him. Something powerful. He felt almost like a creature but...no, that wasn't right. There was something so much bigger about him.
'This is Harry Potter.' Kingsley says as he shuts the office door and comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry. 'Harry Potter, allow me to introduce you to Arthur Kirkland. He came as soon as realised something was wrong here.'
Harry felt confused, wondering who exactly this man was but...even with suspicion building in his gut he couldn't bring himself to act on it. 'Sir.' Harry greeted as he inclined his head.
Kirkland walks forward from the corner of the room, stepping into the light with his arms folded behind his back. 'Harry Potter.' Kirkland says like he's testing the name, eyes lighting from behind with an inner fire. 'I would like to thank you for what you have done in service of this country and it's people.'
Even with how official that sounded, Harry simply nodded. 'This is my country too and it's people are my people.' He states because he feels like he has to say something.
There's an old sort of sorrow in Kirkland's eyes but there's gratitude there. 'You make your Nation proud, Harry Potter.'
Harry blinks but he's saved from having to try to respond when Kingsley clears his throat. 'Harry, this man...he is the personification of England.'
Harry's head snaps up to stare at Kingsley, his foolish thought that nothing could surprise him anymore disappearing like the food on a Weasley's plate. 'What -'
'If you must, think of me as the soul of this land.' Kirkland - Fricken' England says simply, easily like the words coming out of his mouth are meant to make sense. 'Only the royal family, my boss and their closest staffers are told of me. Since you agreed to try to fix this government, you are held in a high position.'
'I think he also wanted to thank you.' Kingsley smiled tiredly, squeezing Harry's shoulder.
Kirkland shrugs but there's a weight there that Harry hadn't noticed until there. 'I felt the rot here but I didn't realise how bad it was. Perhaps old age is catching up with me but then the attacks started to happen around London...' He tenses than, a deep shudder running through his core. 'It took me longer than it should have to realise what was going on and then I couldn't get into the Wizarding World.'
'England is one of the few nations that is the personification of both the Muggle side and the Wizarding side of their countries.' Kingsley explains. 'He couldn't risk coming back inside once the Ministry was taken over. After the Battle of Hogwarts England was able to return -'
'He promoted me and helped me kick everyone else out of the Ministry.' Kingsley says with a crooked expression. 'He was in quite the rage.'
Kirkland huffs, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. 'Does you have a lot of power then?' Harry asks.
Kirkland shakes his head. 'I try not to interfere but the corruption had to end. This is not our way.'
This is not our way.
Harry smiles. 'No, it's not.'
'You're what?' Hermione exclaims from across Harry's dinner table with round eyes.
Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. 'Kingsley's asked for my help with fixing the Ministry; the last week we were clearing each department from any -'
'But what about your education?' Hermione demands in the knowledge that once Harry committed himself to something he was completely dedicated.
'Hogwarts is still closed for reconstruction -'
'Leave off, Hermione. It's not like we didn't know things would be different.' Ron says through a mouthful of food. 'Besides, isn't there something we should be telling him...?'
They hadn't had much time together with all they had been through together. They had all just been so busy so Harry had invited them over for lunch. It was a surprise to see how their relationship had changed since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Hermione deflated and guiltily starts to play with the food on her plate before she sighs in resignation. 'Since Hogwarts will be closed for a year, I'm going to go to Australia to find my parents.' She tells him which kind is kind of out of the blue since this is the first he was hearing about it but they had been busy and it was nice to hear. 'I asked Ronald if he would come with me...'
Ron swallowed down a fork load of meat. 'And I said yes.'
Harry's happy for them and nods. 'When are you leaving?'
'At the end of the week.' Hermione replies. 'Since the Ministries closed right now, we're travelling the Muggle way. We're just waiting for Ron's passport to arrive in the mail.'
Harry could offer to go but it didn't feel like it was his place to even if he was partially responsible for what Hermione had had to do. That and was going to be stuck in England for awhile to come.
'Take care of each other.' Harry says as he looks between them.
Ron laughs. 'Take care of yourself.'
Ron and Hermione have been gone for about a month when a Ministry Owl flies through his window at home.
He's been spending a lot of time hunting down what remains of the Death Eater's and helping with Kingsley's employment efforts while avoiding the press and Andromeda like the plague.
The language used in the letter had puzzled Harry but all the same, he had, had Keature fetch his leather jacket - he had been foregoing robes for awhile now much to the distaste of many - and quickly finished his breakfast before leaving to meet up with Kingsley.
The man himself is standing at the entrance waiting for him, with Jarsdel by his side and Kirkland standing not that far away. All of whom looked a hundred, weatherworn and unbelievably tired. As wary as Harry felt approaching them they would have made quite the sight.
'Thanks for coming, Harry.' Kingsley said, always with the tone of gratitude. It only made Harry feel tired. 'I know it was a bit short notice.
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'What notice?' Jarsdel snorted and Kirkland shakes his head, clapping Harry's shoulder with some amusement.
Kingsley was probably the only person Harry knew that could appear sheepish but serious at the same time. 'Yes, well. You did agree to this when you said you would help me.'
'I think that was your idea too.' Harry retorts.
Kingsley laughed, sound tempering out before it even reached the height it could go, clear with exasperation. 'Harry!'
'Kingsley!' Harry parrots with much the same tone because he's somewhat high on the potions he's been prescribed (that Keature has been forcing him to take,) that makes him all the more willing to step over boundaries that he would ordinarily leave alone.
Kingsley sighed though there was a faint twitching of his lips. 'You're not going to let me get away with anything are you?'
'Well, that's partially what you need me for, isn't it?' Harry quips without feeling. He liked Kingsley. He truly did and he thought he always would. The man was fair and wanted to do the right thing but after everything Harry had seen and suffered through, he had lost all trust for people in power. 'Today though…what had you Owling me?'
Kingsley's expression had shuttered, pained but understanding in that silent way of his. 'The ICW demanded our attendance to a meeting. I've been trying to starve it off until I had more good news to show them but…'
'He's kept them waiting long enough.' Kirkland states, arms crossed and eyes flat. 'I don't particularly like fielding demands from other Nations. They don't need some good news just any would have sufficed.' Kingsley bows his head in apology.
'Sorry but, I don't know much about the Ministry beyond how to break in and out again. What's the ICW?' Harry had to cut in, though he had picked up a bit since then, it was still new to him.
'The ICW stands for the "International Confederation of Wizards".' Kirkland explains easily, eyebrows slanting downwards. 'Its equivalent to the Muggle UN. People of importance are pulled out from each country to contribute to talks and meetings. For example, if we had a full Ministry at the moment each Head of Office would attend, including the Head Warlock of the Wizengamot along with the Minister (obviously), his Support Staff, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and I, myself, if the meeting happened to be of some emergency.'
Harry did not ask if the meeting "happened to be of some emergency". That much was already clear. The three men were the only ones who were attending said a lot to the state of the Ministry even after all this time and all their work. Still, 'then why am I going?'
'Because, old chap.' Kirkland said, 'You've been acting in line with the Minister's Support Staff. In fact, you've been holding the Office of the Advisor since you agreed to this madness. Didn't you know?'
The problem with Nations, Harry thought in numb shock, is that they had gotten so old that they took pleasure at causing mischief. Or at least, their's did. The way Kirkland spoke told Harry that he knew very well that Harry hadn't been told and took a great amount of amusement in it now.
The prat.
'Kingsley…' Harry hissed dangerously.
Kingsley held up his hands. 'I had to make you official in some context, Harry.' He responds. 'You can complain later. I swear. But we're going to be late.' He states as he glances at the clock off to the side.
With that, Harry allows himself to be swept along as Jarsdel takes pity on him and briefed him quickly. 'Dumbledore's old position - you remember, don't you? - as Supreme Mugwump is the ICW's chosen leader who holds some authority over the council. That is who will be speaking to us.'
Harry had nodded. 'How's the position decided?'
The auror shrugged. 'Votes.' He responds. 'Its just to keep order in all honesty. Think of them a judge with everyone else present the jury. With the jury, the judge can't do all that much if anything.'
The explanation was useful and Harry found himself grateful for what must have been the deliberate use of Muggle terminology.
'Dumbledore lost his position because of Fudge. The ICW picked a new Supreme Mugwump and wanted to discuss Voldemort when his return was finally admitted to the public but then the Ministry fell.' Kirkland's voice is grim, tone dark and heavy. 'With the Ministry gone, I had to inform the ICW and leave the country. Doing anything else would have been folly. I couldn't stay.'
'To be summoned by the ICW…well, it's never good. In fact, it's seen as a great embarrassment.' Kingsley muttered as they entered his office and he quickly summoned the Portkey.
Harry shrugged. Not much to do about it now. The International Portkey was awful and affected Harry the most out of all of them, with Kirkland not looking the least bit ruffled by the sickly transport. However, they arrived in the mountains of Tibet without fuss. (And really, It wouldn't be long before their infamous yeti problem became Harry's yeti problem.)
Moving quickly, Harry was taken inside what should have been the opening to a very small cave. It wasn't one but rather a rather stunning but official looking office space. The guards at the door asked for their badges (Harry's - that hadn't even known he had - was being held by Jarsdel) and were quickly lead past doors and doors until the reached an elevator.
It opened to a huge hall, full to the brim of wizards and witches, all of whom were watching them. A Japanese man was waiting for them at the doors. They had barely gotten out of the lift when he bowed lightly to their party, gaze respectfully roaming each face before he settled on Kirkland.
'Igirisu.' He sighed in adjective relief, straightening himself to his full height as his soft, accented voice rises and falls. 'It is good to see you well.'
'Japan.' Arthur greets with an attitude no more different than usual even with the weak smile tilting his lips. 'Did you ever doubt?'
This man - Japan - did not answer right away, the tensions of old grief ageing his graceful face. 'Perhaps.' He responds. 'America too has been most worried about the, ah, terror attacks you have been suffering but I see know it was for nothing. Though…Saru mo ki kara ochiru.'
'Keizoku wa chikara nari, Japan.'
Harry blinked at the literary of foreign words, spoken like a song from lips used to singing. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised though their reunion was broken short by the quiet cough of a woman. Japan steps to the side to allow them through. 'See you at the end, Igirisu.'
Arthur's lips quirk and he inclines his head as he nudges Harry to walk toward the podium in the middle of the hall. He does so and allows his legs to climb the stairs, eyes looking ahead to the one chair that was in alignment. Kingsley joins him shoulder to shoulder with Jarsdel just a little bit behind and Kirkland just a bit in front.
Along the sides of the rectangle shaped room that is lined with three levels of benches where wizards and witches of multiple nationalities stood. Harry finds himself surprised at the period specific clothing but with how dated Wizarding Britain was, he shouldn't be.
The head seat, though, is occupied by an Asian woman who wore a kimono of a bright and variant fabric. Even with how far Harry stood he can see the roaring phoenix that curled around the collar. He didn't miss how Japan and the woman shared a glance as he retook his seat by the party he must have belonged to if only because it appeared as people stood with their respected countries.
'Shacklebolt-sama.' The woman acknowledged as soon as they had been situated on the podium. Her eyes were highlighted by black eye makeup which brought out the lightness of her hazel eyes as she stared them down, her bright red lips flat and unexpressive upon her oval face.
Kingsley bowed clumsily, arms to his side. 'Supreme Mugwump.' He greets.
'We are glad that you were able to make it.' The Supreme Mugwump stated. When her gaze flickered to Harry her eyebrow quirked. 'Potteru-san, I believe?'
The accent while not as slight as Japan's had been was not overly heavy either. Harry nodded and awkwardly said: 'hello,' to which Kingsley's obvious wince had Harry stumbling an "er, Supreme Mugwump" out.
Amusement lit her face however stern a shape it was. 'Ah. Please, my name: Umeki Kaida, Potteru-san. We have heard much about you.' She states. 'The letter from Shacklebolt-sama named you a hero but…you aware that the last representative from Britain we received told us that you were a criminal, and if we were to find you in our countries we were to immediately turn you over to your authorities?'
Harry didn't look away from the woman in front of him but the feeling of being trapped tightened his chest. 'That…sounds right.'
'And…in your opinion, Potteru-san,' Kaida had started delicately. 'Which one are you? The hero or the criminal?'
His hands fisted and Harry didn't bother to listen to Kingsley's noise of protest. 'I did what I had to do.' He states. 'I…I don't think I'm a hero. I did, like, a hundred things wrong. I involved people that shouldn't have been involved. I got people killed through stupid mistakes and - and I am responsible for Voldemort's death.'
'Harry.' Kingsley had hissed lowly, tugging on his arm to get him to stop.
'What?' He barely turned his face to look at Kingsley's panic. 'You don't you think its novel that I killed my killer?' His eyes flashed in warning, teeth on edge but Harry was beyond caring. 'At the time…' Harry continued as he took a breath. 'At the time I was definitely working against my government. I earned my status. I broke into the Ministry, Gringotts and Hogwarts. I performed magic in a Muggle area and - and used the Unforgivables. So, yeah, to you I probably am a criminal. Undesirable Number 1, right?'
Kingsley's grip tightened and then loosened in shock. There were some mutterings in the stands but Kaida kept her face flat. 'You tell us that, why?'
Harry had shrugged and if it was seen as disrespectful, well, that wasn't his problem. 'Because I can't pretend that I didn't do what I did. I can't pretend that that's not what I am.'
Harry had been reading reports in the Daily Prophet about his deeds; about how he ended the battle and the bloodshed. He had people throwing themselves at his feet in thanks. But people didn't want to see what he did in order to accomplish this; they didn't want to understand everything that he had, had to do. Everything that he had given up. That he had lost.
Kaida had hummed, long and deep. 'Brave, you are shonen.' She comments. 'I have been part of this body for much time. I have seen many representatives for your country but…' she trailed off, staring at him in ways that reminded him of Snape only not as intrusive. 'Yes, you are good. I remember Dumbledore-sama who tried hard to be good. But he did not take responsibility like you do. He could not for it would destroy him if he did.'
Dumbledore was a source of conflict for Harry, even if once upon a time he would have sworn to his name. 'He always did what he thought was right.'
'Yes.' Kaida response. 'Perhaps. But… like you have said, Potteru-san, you "did what you had to" knowing that it might not have been right. A warrior I see in you.' Then, she turned to Kingsley. 'We understand that you will be reforming your government in the next few months?'
'Y-yes.' Kingsley had stuttered, put off from his long absence in the conversation. 'Once I've got the departments cleared out we'll start recruiting, mainly for the Law Enforcement department to start.' They had discussed this, briefly. They needed to get things up and running. To do that they needed the DMLE back in working order.
'Ah. Neko o ou yori sara o hike.' Kaida had smiled. 'You plan on getting to the root. And Potteru-san will be with you in this? He is much young for the position you have given him in your government.'
Kingsley inclined his head. 'There is no pressure from me for Harry to go along with this but there's a lot of unrest with the public. He's…Harry has a lot of sway right now, in Britain.'
'Yes, I imagine he does.' Kaida states and Harry feels a bit unsettled by her gaze and how she looks at him. 'Just remember, Shacklebolt-sama: chousho wa tansho. What you can see as an asset now, could view as a hindrance in the future.'
'I…I don't quite understand -'
'And this body hopes it is to stay that way.' Kaida interrupts. 'From what I understand, England owes Potteru-san a debt -' to which Kirkland nods, quiet but thankful. 'This body will not forget that. Let us hope that you do not either, Shacklebolt-sama.'
'Of…of course, Supreme Mugwump.' Kingsley responds.
The rest of the session had been a lot of questions over the current state of Britain, primarily the wizarding side of things before they had asked after the Muggle world and correct relations. The economy had come up as well as a number of other things that Harry had really had no business being a part of at the time.
Towards the end, Kingsley had been given a warning about their government and how, while the ICW was willing to forgive Britain's short stint as a dictatorship and the disregard to ICW guidelines, that it must not happen again if they wanted to keep their membership. Kirkland had seemed somewhat fidgety at that but had remained silent.
Leaving, and Harry had shaken many a hand with a lot of wizards and witches that had given him nothing but warm thanks and reassurances that he hadn't quite understood at the time. Japan, in particular, had gone out of his way by giving him a fan without much explanation, beautiful but deadly. Harry's only thought that it must be especially lonely being a Nation.
Kingsley had apologised when they were back in his office. Jarsdel by slapping Harry on the back before leaving himself. Luckily, Harry wasn't all that angry about it even if he was a bit put off that he wasn't told about his position in the government. As long as he was able to go through the same recruitment phrase as everyone else when it was time to try and fill the Auror Office back up again, it didn't matter to him.
Kingsley had seemed somewhat surprised that Harry had still wanted to be an auror with the whole "Advisor to the Minister" thing but Harry was adamant. He wanted to feel useful; he needed a more hands-on approach. He couldn't stay cooped up in an office all day.
'The ICW?' Mister Weasley parrots in astonishment.
Harry nods while battling his way through the homework Kingsley had given him. 'Yeah, it's no big deal, though.'
'No big deal?' Mister Weasley says again weakly.
'Hn. It didn't have to do with me, not really.' Though Harry was starting to think after having some time to process the whole thing that there was something he had missed through the whole experience. 'Kingsley only brought me along because he tricked me into being his advisor.'
There was a long pause. '...advisor?'
'Harry, dear?' Misses Weasley tentatively began. 'I thought you said you were just helping the Minister out?'
'So did I.' Harry muttered. 'Have you heard from Ron and Hermione?'
'Only a small note from Ronald, oh that boy.' Misses Weasley sighs. 'He says they're fine and that they've managed to find poor Hermione's parents.'
Relief flooded Harry and he smiled even as he read regulation on creatures that would need to be amended. 'That's great.' He breaths even if he sobers a moment later. 'And George?'
The silence that follows is tense and guilt churns Harry's stomach as he bites his lip. 'He...' Mister Weasley struggles, voice thick. 'Needs space.'
Harry closes his eyes but nods.
'You wouldn't have happened to have spoken with Ginny recently, Harry?'
Harry feels his cheeks grow hot and can't find an appropriate answer so further buries himself in his reports.
Jarsdel is a slave driver Harry decides as he enters into auror training along with the rest of the recruits both new and old.
Ron still hasn't returned from Australia but Neville is there which...honestly, is a great reassurance. Harry's still wound up and twitchy from the war and a familiar face isn't enough to relax him - not around so many - but it took the edge off.
During one of their breaks, Neville had settled down next to him. 'I thought I'd find you here.' He had laughed.
'I'm honestly a bit surprised.' Harry stated as he stared at his friend and the scars on his face that he had earned by refusing to do the wrong thing; for fighting for what was right.
'Well, you know I'd follow you into anything Harry. I owe you a lot.' Neville confides openly so far from the eleven-year-old that Harry had first met that he struggled to draw a comparison.
'You don't owe me a thing.' Harry denies.
'Kill the snake?' Neville grins to which Harry laughs.
'Kill the snake.' Harry nods as their break comes to an end and Jarsdel continues to work them like the devil that had Harry wondering if the man was trying to send everyone "back to mummy" as the head auror himself had taunted.
They couldn't really afford those sorts of tactics. Harry was aware of the state of the Ministry and they were in desperate need of numbers. He, also, understood though that if they couldn't stand some psychical exertion and verbal abuse than they'd be no good in the field.
Seeing Neville not even blink at a man screaming drills in his face when his greatest fear had once-upon-a-time been Snape, well, Harry couldn't help but be happy. Happy that Neville had finally found some spine and would be able to take care of himself. Had been well; had taken care of practically the whole school for that last year if what Harry was hearing from Luna was true.
Harry was working on some documents when Keature announced that he had a guest. He had been at it for awhile so he shrugged and headed down to the entrance.
Standing on his doorstep was Ginny who was looking slightly uncomfortable as she shifts from one leg to the other. She looks up from the floor as she hears him approach and smiles.
'Hullo, Ginny.' Harry greets despite his confusion as he nears her.
'Harry.' Ginny returns. 'This is probably sudden but...Mum and Dad mentioned the other day - well, you broke up with me because of the war and the wars over now so...'
Harry's heart tightens and he licks his lips in nerves. 'A lots changed since we dated but if you wanted to give it another try...'
Ginny nods and as if sealing a deal, kisses him on the cheek.
When Harry is cleared to be put on active duty he's given his own cubicle on Level 2, right next to Neville whose been assigned to be his partner. Something the two of them had talked about and had been hoping for.
It's after their first mission where they're patching up a few flesh wounds from some poorly aimed Cutting Curses that the Daily Prophet notifies the Wizarding World that Hogwarts was reopening. Their shared smiles were massive and although Ron and Hermione had just returned to England with her parents, he sends them an owl about it.
He gets invited to dinner which he happily attends to after work. He had asked Neville but he had a date with Luna to get to so he had said goodbye and Flooed directly to the Burrow.
He greets Misses Weasley with a kill on the cheek and Mister Weasley with a brief shoulder pat as they welcome him from the fireplace. It seems to be a full house when they walk him to the table, with Ron and Hermione already sat with Ginny by her some day soon sister in law's side and George next to Ron with Percy in the other seat.
Harry meets them all but George and (surprising) Percy give him the warmest reception.
'Harry.' Percy smiles, an expression that is hesitant but is trying to be kind as he offers Harry a handshake.
'Good to see you, Perce.' Harry returns. They hadn't always had the best relationship and there was a moment there where resentment was building but Percy had made up with his family and that was really all Harry had wanted and any slight towards him was forgotten.
Percy's expression brightens, tension easing out of his shoulders. 'See, no grudges here.' George grins but its a shadow of its former self. Harry quietly admires George's strength; after he had lost Sirius that would have been beyond him. 'Harry, mate, what hit you?'
Harry's hand automatically goes to touch the cut on his cheek. 'Ah. Don't worry about it.' He dismisses. 'You should see the other guy.
'A mission?' George asks anyway.
Harry sits himself down and can't help but cringe as it irritates a wound in his lower back. 'Yeah. Nev had already tackled the perp as he was casting so I guess I'm lucky.'
'Lucky?' Ron asks in disbelief. 'Wasn't that dangerous? And "Nev" when'd you get that close to Longbottom?'
Harry frowned, confused at the sound of irritation. 'Lucky because the perp was aiming at my eyes.' He stated much to their discomfort. 'And I thought I had mentioned this but Nev and I were partnered together.'
Hermione's head tilted. 'Neville's an auror?'
Huh. Guess not. Harry nods. 'Yeah, a brilliant one at that. I really thought I told you this.'
'I heard about it.' George says. 'In the last Owl, you sent me.'
'Anyway, you going back to Hogwarts? Or join the Ministry?' Harry asks. He didn't want to get into what he did and didn't say. It wasn't even why he had turned up for dinner today.
'Well, I obviously want to finish my education.' Hermione states with bright eyes. 'I do want to join the Ministry; there's a lot that needs to be done and I think I can properly contribute.'
Ron glances at Hermione. 'I'm gonna go back to Hogwarts.' He says which was something of a surprise to Harry but he supposed that things changed with relationships. 'But I'm definitely going to be an auror though.'
'Good luck with Jarsdel.' Harry laughs but couldn't help but feel light. 'It's good, though, about Hogwarts?'
'It's brilliant, dear.' Misses Weasley agrees as she hustles to the table with the first lot of plates.
'I'm not ready yet.' Ginny says suddenly while they're eating at a table for two in Grimmauld Place.
Harry glances up from his plate and hums in confusion. 'Not ready?'
'For sex.' Ginny states.
Harry feels himself recoil. They hadn't been dating long; he wasn't prepared for that right now, not on top of his working hours and dealing with the public and the reporters. He just - well, he wasn't ready.
That didn't mean he wasn't confused as to why Ginny had even brought this up. Did she feel like Harry was pressuring her? 'Um...can I ask -'
'I want to wait until marriage.' Ginny tells him which throws Harry through an even bigger hoop.
Was this a test of some kind? Harry had heard that girls did that sort of thing sometimes. Harry knew that Ginny wasn't exactly inexperienced though he supposed that might change between partners. Still, though, marriage?
Whatever. He had been at work for hours and his energy was in pretty small supply right now.
'Okay, no problem.' Harry says in agreement.
Harry almost loses an eye taking an illegal potions brewery down if it wasn't Neville. He was dizzy and in pain and maybe that's what it took for him to stumble to Andromeda's house. He hadn't had much contact with the woman, didn't known how to talk to her after the war that had taken her husband, her daughter and her son-in-law.
The way she stares at him with such astonishment made him feel all of three feet tall as he stands on her doorstep.
'…Harry?' She asked before she was pulling him into the house, hands cupping his face and looking so much like her sister and so different that his throat tightens. 'Harry, what's happened? Are you alright?'
Her concern only increases the guilt but he can admit that he probably looks a state. 'Yes, sorry for just dropping by.'
'Don't be ridiculous.' Andromeda shook her head. 'I'm more worried about -'
The healer Harry had seen had put some sort of salve on the wound but had also bandaged it to avoid the risk of infection while the salve fixed the damage. However, that also meant that he looked part-mommy with one side of his face completely wrapped. 'This? It looks worse than it is.' He couldn't help but lie.
Andromeda's lips thinned, looking only unimpressed and spends a moment staring before she blows out a breath. 'Well, enough of this. Why don't you come on in and sit yourself down? We can talk -'
'No!' Harry exclaimed without meaning to and almost swallowed his tongue when he realised it. 'I - I mean - I don't want to…disturb you. I - I just. About Teddy.' He starts and yeah, his absolute need to see that little boy was beyond painful. 'Would…would you be willing…would it be okay if I -'
He could feel himself start to get choked but he doesn't even need to finish before Andromeda is lifting his head by a finger gently elevating his chin. 'Of course. You're his godfather.' She says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Without him even needing to finish. 'This wasn't the reason I haven't heard from you all this time was it?'
Harry had ended up staying for tea and helping change Teddy who had been put down for his nap. The first time he had held that little boy and part of the stress he had been carrying since the Battle of Hogwarts melted away. He was told he could visit as much as he wanted but she expected him at least once every week, or a couple of weeks if work got busy. Really, he beat the odds by going three to four times.
"Ry" was Teddy's first proper word - every if it wasn't fully completed - and Harry fell in love all over again.
By eighteen he's bogged down by assignments, has gotten more injuries than the entire department and has an intimate relationship with quite a few of the healers in St Mungo's much to Neville's worried exasperation. He's tired but he's building his relationship with Teddy and he's started to see more of Ginny again, while also managing to visit the Burrow and sometimes drifting to the Twin's - to George's shop.
(George was one of the most obviously affect by the war. He had lost an ear, his twin brother and his smile. But he was strong and only a year later was the reopening their store with another boon from Harry and trying to make laughter for a community who so desperately needed it, even if he himself was more than a little broken.)
It was only through George and visiting the shop so much that he realises that he hasn't cleared up his situation with Gringotts. The thought of it makes him feel just a tad ill. He had been warned about the goblins and that he shouldn't ever cross one. Not only had he but he had broken into their bank, used an Unforgivable against one of their employees and stole their dragon.
'You sure this is a good idea?' Neville asked with an almost constipated expression on his face as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry just a bit further down the street.
'Can't put it off forever.' Harry had responded though he liked what he was about to do even less.
Neville sighed but stopped his argument and allowed Harry to lead them to the bank whereupon queuing for a good forty minutes they were escorted to a back office. Every step they took was another further inch that Neville tensed. The armed guard that followed them didn't help matters.
An office had been their destination with a goblin by the name of Sabre was behind the desk wearing a neat pinstriped suit. His truly antagonist face was only aided with Harry's apology and promise to pay for restoration which had evidently hadn't been something that the goblin expected if his shocked jaw drop was anything to go by.
Neville had made a pained noise when Harry had promised whatever amount could cover the damages. He had thought that that would be his money gone. Surprisingly, no, though he wouldn't have been too worried if that was the case. He had two positions in the Ministry both of paid well especially when he was able to save a good majority with it with so little expenses.
His Trust Vault would be left bare but that had only been set up to cover any expenses that he would have from Hogwarts.
'I'm afraid I don't understand why you would think otherwise, Mister Potter.' Sabre said with an expression of annoyance. 'We have been sending you steady bank statements since your thirteenth birthday when you came-of-age and inherited your lordship.'
This had brought Harry up short. 'What…lordship?' And then: 'And what bank statements? I've only ever gotten a handful of letters from friends and Hogwarts not…anything like that.'
Neville had spluttered in shock. 'You don't know?' He had asked, voice hushed and eyes wide. 'But…' He stopped for a second. 'No. No, that would have made sense. Harry, I - did you ever get any of my letters from…before we met?'
The question only further added to Harry's confusion. 'From before? No…did you write to me?'
Neville blushed then, his lips set into a wobbly line. 'Harry I sent you steady letters up till we were eleven. I knew about you growing up: we're godbrothers so I wanted to try and, you know, start something up. But on the train, when you acted like we didn't know each other. Well, I figured you were embarrassed by me.'
Harry's face must have been a picture and he shook his head so hard it almost hurt as he placed a hand on Neville's shoulder, pulling the man closer until Neville was almost out of his seat as Harry firmly denied that. 'What? No! Of course, I wouldn't have been - I…I didn't know.'
Neville's smile is sad, sort of bittersweet but its gentle and understanding. 'Yeah…the more I got to know you at Hogwarts the more I knew that that couldn't be it. I started to think that maybe you didn't want to think about - about family.' The lines of his face suddenly look so much breakable with the scars that are ripped into the right side. Like they could just tear apart. 'And all this time…you didn't even…'
Harry's stomach was a twisted, knotted thing and if he had, had the time to give Neville a hug he would have. He wasn't one to instigate touch; he wasn't used to it but with Teddy, he was learning and with the new, weighty but absolutely amazing knowledge that Neville was actually family the desire was that much stronger.
Instead, though, Sabre coughs and Harry forces himself to look back to the goblin. 'To interrupt you, I must continue to ask, Mister Potter, that you have not gotten any of Gringotts' mail nor did you know about your lordship?'
'No.' Harry confirms.
Sabre's eyes are beady and narrowed and Harry thinks that if he had been lying - had been found to be lying about this - then he would have been cut in two. 'And you would be willing to take Veritaserum to confirm this?'
Harry nods. 'Yeah but I still don't know what lordship you're talking about. I realised that my parents might have had some money when I saw my Trust Vault but…lordships are a big deal aren't they?'
Neville touches Harry's hand, his fingers sliding across Harry's knuckles from where his digits are clenched into the fabric of the chair. Harry could barely feel it due to the scarring that had been caused by the blood quill.
'Harry…were you really never told about this?'
Harry frowns. 'No…I mean, who was meant to tell me? It's not something Aunt Petunia would have known about. I wouldn't have mentioned I had money to them and they didn't want anything to do with the Wizarding World.'
'You would have had a Magical Guardian, Harry. To tell you things about the Wizarding World. The Ministry gives them to children who are being raised in the Muggle World or are Muggleborns. Since you were the last of your House, you should have been given top priority.'
'Nev, I don't understand.' Harry says numbly.
'A House, Mister Potter is a magical lineage that has both been blessed by magic and has been able to earn the status of Ancient and Nobel.' Sabre had thankfully cut in. 'They are the royalty of the Wizard World and make up the House of Lords in the Ministry. Or, they did, before they were eventually replaced by the Wizengamot in order to better…appeal to Muggleborns.'
'Alright…' Harry had said. 'And…my family is a…"House".' And oh had that been strange to say back then.
Sabre inclined his head. 'A wizard's core matures at thirteen; the age when you can either inherit the Heir ring to your House or the Lordship. You, Mister Potter, are the last of your House so we at Gringotts were expecting you to come collect your ring so that you would be able to take up the duties of your family.'
'So I should have known about this years ago?' Harry asked, slightly incredulous.
'We sent a letter out. It was not our duty to do more than that.' Sabre responded.
Harry glanced at Neville. 'Why didn't you mention it?'
Neville winced. 'I…well, honestly? I wasn't sure how to bring it up. We didn't get close until all that upheaval with the Ministry and I…I didn't know how to treat you.' Neville explained in a way that broke Harry's heart.
'Neville, if I had known about you -'
Neville's smile is lopsided. 'I know, Harry.' He nudges his side. 'Anyway, I think we're on track. We're where we should be.'
Harry opened his mouth to tell Neville that they could have gotten there sooner if he had gotten those letters but he didn't get that far.
'Would it be your wish to take up your lordship?' The goblin asked to which Harry had shrugged but agreed to.
Harry had left with a ring, a godbrother and carrying four boxes of documentation he had to go through that Neville said he could help with if Harry wanted some advice.
The following year he joins his place among the Wizengamot with Neville who had finally started to take on his duties as Lord Longbottom. His parents had been killed in the attack on St Mungo's during the war but Neville had been hesitating over what to with the estate until Harry's own issues. Harry got the feeling that a lot of people were unhappy with this but Susan Bones had greeted them with a smile and offered them to sit next to her.
Harry learns a lot of the Wizengamot; a lot that he wished he had known when he was sitting in the defendant's chair for something hadn't even been his fault. In saying that the Chief Warlock who was in charge wasn't much a fan of him - or his friends was an understatement as far as understatements went.
In saying that, few of the Wizengamot liked Harry after the screening process he had had to give the members to ensure that none of them were cohorts with Voldemort. They had lost half the bar to Azkaban; a lot of Lords and the ones who remained were appalled by the whole thing.
'Harry?!' A demanding voice calls through the buzz of his hearing. A hand is grabbing at his shoulder and Harry tries to flinch away from it but finds himself unable to.'Harry? Open your eyes. Please -'
It feels like there are weights tied to his eyes as tries to push them open - doesn't know when he closed them - but his sight is hazy and grey when he manages to build up the strength to do so.
He's on the floor, limbs numb and Neville is over crouched over him with such a distressed that he wonders if someone's hurt.
'You! You've been hurt, you idiot!' Neville snaps but Harry's not conscious for long enough for him to understand.
When Harry wakes up again he's in St Mungo's in a private room on the Spell Damage ward. Neville is in the visiting chair beside his bed and in the unguided moment before his partner realises he's awake, Neville looks besides himself with his hands interlinked in front of him, arms propped up on his jittering legs and looking ahead with a lying light in his eyes.
'Nev?' Harry tries tentatively.
Neville swivels towards Harry so first, he tips himself out of his seat, stumbling to the side of the bed. Even midfall, Neville has reached out and clasps hold of Harry's wrist.
'Harry! How are you? Do you feel alright?' Neville shots off one after the other before he's on his feet and halfway to the door. 'Wait - wait - wait, I need to get the healer!'
Harry finds out from a combination of the healer and Neville (because his partner had refused to leave) that he had been jumped on his way to the Department of Mysteries. He had been chasing a memo for some information on a case he had been working on when he was attacked from behind.
Neville, who had been trying to catch up with Harry once he had discovered the missive on Harry's desk, had found the assailant trying to pull Harry's unconscious arse into the Love Chamber which despite its "ever locked" title, was open.
Harry is numb as he remembers working on just a few cups of coffee for just as many days. His instincts weren't as sharp as they should have been and -
There's a sickness crawling up his throat because the Love Chamber had absolutely nothing to do with love. It had no reason to be in the Ministry but the magic was imbued into the very walls and air of the room; there was nothing to be done but seal it closed.
'I haven't left but I Flooed earlier and Jarsdel's investigating.' Neville says once the Healer has left.
'Jarsdel?' Harry repeats in amazement. Once they had refilled the positions in the Ministry Jarsdel had gotten a promotion from Head Auror to Head of the DMLE after he had trained the first batch of recruits. Since then, the man had been very busy. For him to take on more...
Neville shakes his head. 'You don't understand.' He says. 'An auror was attacked inside the Ministry by - what it sounds like - another member of staff. It - at the very least she's going to be charged with attempted line theft. Jarsdel - he was outraged. Kingsley is prepared to throw the book at them.'
"At the very least". The Wizarding World didn't like to think about sexual assault or rape especially in regards to enchanted items and love potions and when they did, they never liked to think of it as anything other than line theft which was either solved through marriage or - back in the day - a forced abortion.
Harry didn't like to think about it like that. He didn't need to be seen as a victim. He had spent years feeling vulnerable, he didn't need a return to that pregnable state. He couldn't -
Neville reaches out again. 'Don't even go there Harry.' He commands like the fighter he had grown to be. 'I can see those thoughts in your head. This wasn't your fault. Not at all. Stop it.'
'Sorry.' Harry chokes feeling pathetic.
Neville holds on tighter.
Harry has just had his night out back at Grimmauld Place after being released from St Mungo's. He sleeps in since he's got a week's leave but once he emerges and forces himself to get to the kitchen, hoping to make himself eat something, the first thing that he encounters is Keature's back.
'Keature?' He asks through a dry throat. The House Elf stills like the Killing Curse just missed him but turns to face Harry after a second, wringing a paper in his hands.
'Masters Harry, Keature's knows that he's bes hurting because of mad, nasty witch's but the paper's be saying horrible, muckraking things about Masters Harry.'
Harry's toes curl and he thinks he stares for a moment too long because Keature is starting to look misty eyed. He takes a long inhalation and extends his hand. 'Let me see.'
Keature flinches. 'But the bad paper's bes smearing -'
Harry shakes his head. 'It's alright, Keature.' Keature reluctantly inches forward to give Harry the crumbled newspaper which he carefully accepts it.
Harry attempts to unroll it as he takes a seat at his table. The headline: "Potter And Love's Advantage At Ministry?" Jumps out at him like a punch in the gut but he doesn't even get what he knows would be a terrible article about him before an owl is swooping through his open window.
The red, smoking letter in Pig's claws warns Harry before his tired mind can. He doesn't even have time to pull his wand before the Howler has erupted and Misses Weasley screeching voice is piercing him like a Cutting Spell.
"HARRY POTTER! I AM DISGUSTED! HOW DARE YOU TREAT ON MY GINNY LIKE THIS! I THOUGHT BETTER OF YOU YOUNG MAN, TO THINK YOU WOULD SHACK UP WITH SOME LITTLE HUSSIE! YOU WERE RAISED WRONG - WHY YOUR PARENTS WOULD BE ASHAMED BY YOUR BEHAVIOUR! WITH EVERYTHING OUR FAMILY HAS DONE FOR YOU -! YOU OWE US A HUGE APOLOGY AND UNTIL THEN YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME UNDER OUR ROOF -"
The last of Misses Weasley's toxic words are cut off by Keature who snaps and chases both the Howler and Pig away while shouting equally foul words.
Harry sits on his chair numbly, paper hanging limply from his fingers. Vaguely, he notices, as he looks down that he's trembling.
"Dear readers, this reporter would like to inform the good Wizarding public that our Savior might not be everything he seems! From an undisclosed contact at the Ministry, not a few days ago Harry Potter has said to have engaged in sexual activities with a co-worker despite his long-term relationship with the only daughter of the Weasley's. After getting caught in the act this scoundrel concocted a story to save his precious reputation!...(Full article on pg 5.)"
Oh, Harry thinks as the article repeats and repeats.
Teddy is visiting and Harry is...clingy. Needier than his toddler godson. It's shameful but Teddy seems to enjoy the attention and Andromeda is nothing but understanding with how his life has taken just another nose drive.
He's not even half-way through his visit when there's a knock at the door. There's few people that could be since there is only a number who know where to find him and fewer still that are talking to him.
He'd decided after a rather desperate Floo to Neville who'd had Luna with him that he wasn't going to apologise. That he couldn't apologise for something he hadn't done. Misses Weasley hadn't wanted an explanation, though; wouldn't believe a word that he had tried to tell her. Ron wouldn't talk to him and the more he tried to argue the more guilty he seemed to Hermione.
That left only a couple of people but he didn't have the energy to get up, not with his godson in his lap with a book in front of them.
'Keature.' Harry signs tiredly. The House Elf pauses in his dusting (really just an excuse to be with the family though he should know that he didn't need one to be included) and nodded.
The door was answered a moment later. There was an uttering of voices but Harry didn't pay them too much attention. Andromeda was another story.
'Miss Weasley seems to have decided to pay you a visit.' Andromeda says, deeply unimpressed. Harry feels his skin start to prickle but he doesn't move, even when a disgusted Keature guides Ginny into the living room.
'Harry.' Ginny awkwardly address while flattening her skirt nervously but Harry barely gives her a glance as he continues to read.
'Harry.' Ginny says more insistently this time.
Sighing, Harry closes the children's book much to Teddy's disgruntlement. 'Yes?'
'I know that today is usually one you spend with Teddy but...I thought, well I've been thinking and - I just needed to tell you not to worry. We've been together awhile now and I - I did tell you that I wasn't ready for, you know.' Ginny mumbled suggestively, obviously not wanting to go into detail with Andromeda and Teddy there. 'So...I forgive you.'
Forgive?
'How very kind of you Ginny.' Harry says somewhat sarcastically as the chip on his shoulder cracks.
'Right...I'll see you on date night?'
The acid is bitter on his tongue but maybe this is what he deserves. Harry nods silently and waits for her to leave.
Twenty years old and Harry is at the angriest he has ever been. Neville has been seriously injured in a raid on a suspected Neo-Death Eater camp where the integrity of his wand arm was questioned and he is put on indefinite leave.
Due to this and his good service and Kingsley gives Harry a quick promotion to Head Auror, taking the place of his trainer and mentor William Jarsdel who has been suffering as Head of Office for the DMLE for some time now.
But Harry is far from satisfied. Being promoted so soon into his career put him in an uncomfortable position with quite a few members of the senior staff. He had voiced this to Kingsley, especially after another issue of the Daily Prophet is released to the public.
'I trust you, Harry.' Kingsley says in a way that doesn't answer Harry's concern.
'Things are tense in the office, Kings'. One-half is glaring at me, the other is throwing passive aggressive remarks through our cubicles.'
'You're the head of their section now, Harry. Give them a warning.' Kingsley had advised. 'That, or simply set Jarsdel on them. He's still your superior.'
Harry had sighed but had agreed and left it at that.
One of the first things that are required of Harry now is training the new recruits. Ron is among them and he is not amused but Harry does his best to ignore his silence. He starts by introducing himself which was somewhat unnecessary and then gets them to introduce themselves and sets out for a speech that hopefully hits its mark.
'Now, trainees. Look to your right.' Hesitantly they do, they're standing in a long row in the auditorium for training and Harry is in front of them in a jacket he hopes is spell absorbent enough for any possible attack. 'And look to your left.' They follow instruction more quickly that time. 'These are your fellow officers. Not all of you will choose to stay or be able to but it goes without saying that whether you are an auror or not at the end of this, while you are here, you are a unit. You will have each other's backs. You will protect one another. That is the one key thing that I plan to instil in all of you during your training. If you cannot do this, then you do not belong here.'
Harry could see their urge to talk but kept his stance strong. If the ministry wasn't united than they were weak. If they were weak they couldn't do their job. It was part of the reason Voldemort had been able to overtake the Ministry; that weakness and Harry had had every plan to eradicate.
'Any questions?' Not one lifted their hand and Harry grinned. It was not a nice expression and internally snorted when a couple of men took a step back. Either his reputation proceeded him or there were some spines to build. Or to break. Whichever came first. 'Good. Let's start.'
Harry stumbles his way into Jarsdel's office and the man takes one look at Harry and pulls a bottle of Ogden's finest from the bottom draw of his desk.
'Drink?' Jarsdel asks even if he's already pulling the cork.
Harry closes the door and he nods. 'Please.'
Harry crawls into bed. His body is an unfeeling mess of muscle and skin and sweat. Ginny rolls over from his side. 'Harry, you need a shower.'
Harry groans. He knows he must smell like a pig; musky and sweaty and old. He's sticky and hot but he's also exhausted.
'Harry.'
With a shuddering breath, Harry forces himself back to his feet where he staggers to the bathroom. He falls asleep on his feet and wakes on the floor of his shower.
His twenty-first birthday is spent moaning over his job. Neville is patting his shoulder with a false sympathy though his worry is genuine. Luna, who had joined them is staring up at the night sky is listening tentatively.
There were few people here to celebrate it but it's still better than what he was ever given at the Dursley's. The Weasley's, even though they were talking, it was strained and he now knows how it felt like to be Fleur with all that passive disapproval.
Hermione and he talked but then they now worked in the same department and although she wasn't an auror as a secretary, fast-tracking to the top, they had a lot of contact with his own position as Head Auror. Their relationship just didn't feel the same, however, and although she had been invited tonight she had already Owled back and told him he had work.
Ginny was now on tour, having gotten a place as a Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies since she had graduated.
Harry, however, didn't mind so much. He loved Luna and Neville. They were more than enough and it was a nice birthday. Quiet and understated and completely agreeable.
Neville and Luna had pulled together for a watch that he had instantly put on and thanked them for once they had settled in Luna's backyard. There was been a picnic blanket under them that had animated animals woven into the cotton. Butterbeer was shared out with light snacks that Keature provided with the whole thing lit up by the flowers that surrounded them ("Moonlits" which was a breed of flower that Neville had created after his retirement. He was studying now, to be a teacher).
In other words, it had been perfect with Andromeda telling him to come to her later for cake. Teddy - now five and adorable - had a card waiting for him with a present and was allowed to wait up for the "special occasion".
'You could quit.' Neville had suggested lightly, in a way that Harry had known that Neville knew wouldn't have to be agreed to.
'I can't do that.' Harry had replied instantly as he tilted his bottle side to side. Neville's tawny eyes stared at him but the man ended up nodding instead of saying what was on his mind.
And he couldn't. Neo-Death Eaters were still out there and he had recently come across some tightening laws for magical creatures that he had to do something about. So no, the work didn't end so he couldn't quit. There was still so much for him to do.
'Hmm…' Luna had hummed like the ending of a song. 'You should be careful, Harry.'
Her words had been serious but Harry grinned and asked: 'Aren't I always?'
Neville snorted and that had been the end of that conversation.
Harry's on a mission with a squad: Ron and two old classmates of theirs with them. They were sent into investigate suspicious activity in the woodlands in Scotland where they had stumbled across a prison camp for werewolves.
People were in cages, collared and chained and Harry hadn't thought for a second before ordering his team to move in. He was disgusted, ants may as well have been crawling across his skin and he couldn't begin to describe the sickness that choked him as he started Hex to every wizard that had been drinking around a campfire.
It hadn't taken very long to have every man and woman restrained and tied on the ground. He looked over them with absolute scorn, hatred bubbling in his stomach but he stamped the fire out and made his way over to the cages. The man inside couldn't even sit up and was in a bowed over position that made Harry very uncomfortable. His eyes - so much like Remus' - were staring at him mistrustfully and his lips were downturned.
The man was petrified, shaking like his soul was going to jump out of his skin. The noises he made were airy and terrified. Getting on his hands and knees, Harry shushed. 'Its okay. It's okay. I'm Head Auror Potter. I'm not going to hurt you.' He had said, voice as gentle as he could. Hoping if not anything, his name if not his tone could be used as some sort of aid. 'Do you understand, sir?'
The man flinched away, inching to the back of the cage. 'No, it's okay. I swear.' Harry promised, lowering himself further to the floor and trying to make himself appear small which was not a hard task. 'Tell me, what's your name?'
'…Jim,' was the response minutes later.
Harry had to strain to hear it but he nodded all the same. 'Jim, then. How do you feel like getting out of here?' He didn't wait for an answer this time and instead forced the lock open via Alohomora. There was no other spell or ward but for a malnourished, bound and wandless wizard, it was without saying enough.
'Harry what're you doing?!' Ron hissed from behind.
'What does it look like?' Harry had said through his encouraging smile, refusing to look behind him as he pushes the cage's door with one hand while offering the other to Jim.
'Like your letting what could be a deranged criminal out of his cage?'
Something flared in Harry's stomach and he watches as Jim flinched, the hand that had been reaching out with its almost skeletal fingers curling back. Fire burns through his chest and he clenches his teeth to stop his temper from roaring and frightening Jim and the others even more. 'Ron. Start taking the actual "deranged criminals" to the hold-up -'
'Harry -'
'Now, Auror Weasley.' Harry demands, reminding the man that although they were friends, that Harry was also his boss and that he was well out of line. Harry knows that he would have stepped on the boundary of Ron's temper as well but that's far from his main concern.
'Seamus, you alright there?' Harry asked, again as he keeps his hand steady and waiting.
'Yeah, Harry. Me an' Dean's got ya.' Seamus responded quietly from somewhere to Harry's left.
'I'm sorry about that, Jim.' Harry apologised, toes curling in his shoes to finding some way to vent his frustration while keeping his shoulders relaxed. 'Auror Weasley is just a bit…on the side of caution. I promise you that we'll take care of you and the others.'
It had taken him hours to get everyone out of their cages, to talk them into allowing him to take them to St Mungo's and that was only after swearing not to leave them. He understood why when he saw the healer's reaction to discovering that he had a whole pack of werewolves to tend to. Harry being there and his refusal to leave had probably been the only reason that they were treated.
Harry took their statements and used Seamus as a runner back and forth between his spot in the ward and the DMLE. Once he got out after four days of sleeping in a very uncomfortable visitor's chair and sending warning looks to discourage any…unprofessional behaviour, all the while keeping everything calm, Harry was well and truly shattered. The next thing he knows and he is confronted with the Daily Prophet which is promptly shoved in his face by Keature.
"Endangering Lives? Head Auror Potter Allows Beasts Free"
The title was bold and stark with its black lettering on its white page. He honestly couldn't bring himself to care. Harry would always remember Remus. Smart, unassuming Remus who held so many regrets. Remus who was so gentle but had grown up afraid of himself. Remus who wanted to be able to contribute but wasn't able to work. Remus and every other werewolf and creature who could be so much more than the Wizarding World seemed willing to allow them to be.
Only a weak heart couldn't accept something different to themselves. And Harry had spent too long trying to be strong to be put off by the idea that just because someone could be a threat meant that they were one. Harry, himself, had been given a weapon and held one since eleven. That didn't make him and every other member of wizardkind a wand-waving manic.
Harry had, had no apologises for his actions on that mission and he never would.
'What were you thinking?' Hermione had snapped once he had sat down in his cubicle the next day. 'Ron - anyone in your squad could have been bitten!'
Harry promptly ignored her. Hadn't believed that he had, had to defend himself for his actions to someone who professed to be for equality. 'My main concern was that they were victims. Trapped in cages like animals and were injured.' He had stated curtly while looking through the papers that had been left on his desk through his absence.
(And honestly, as an auror your duty was to the people. All people. There was risk in that and Ron and everyone else with something to say about Harry's actions that day should consider that.)
'Yes - but - that's not exactly it, is it? Those poor creatures could have been put through anything and you didn't know how mentally stable any of them were! You put your whole squad in danger!'
'If you're looking for an apology, Hermione, you're not going to get one.' Harry had said with steady conviction. 'I'd do it again.'
That was how he came out of as "Pro-Creature Rights" to the Wizarding World. He alienated a lot of people but also got some friends in some dark places with his approach to "people deserving rights no matter how different they are. Or what those differences were". Working some cases for DRCMC (or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) helped cement this opinion.
'Is werewolves bad?' Teddy asked him and Harry thought he would be sick.
'What?' He whispers, can't quite find his voice as he finds himself suddenly horrified.
'The paper says youse were bad because the werewolves were bad.' Teddy states with bright blue hair and pink eyes.
Swallowing, Harry lifts his godson into his lap. 'Well...do you think I'm bad?'
Teddy expression morphs into something shocked and then adamant. 'No! Harry's good. Youse read and play and Granny say youse a - hero.'
Hero. Harry almost laughs but he carries on regardless. 'And have you ever met a werewolf?'
Teddy frowns but slowly shakes his head. 'Right, so how do you know they're bad people?'
Teddy blinks and Harry can tell that the boy is a bit too little to fully comprehend this but he's also old enough to remember and maybe that will be enough.
Harry's just come out of a Wizengamot meeting and his storming the way through to his Advisor's office that gets used every blue moon. As soon as he's closing the door, it's opening again.
'Harry!' Hermione snaps.
Harry tries to remember the last time Hermione talked to him without giving into the urge to lose her temper. They just didn't seem to be able to agree for very long nowadays.
'I don't want to do this right now, Hermione.' Harry sighs as he leans against his desk.
'Unforgivable's about simply Unforgivable! I can't believe you would support a bill to -'
'They'd still be illegal Hermione!' Harry turns to stare at the woman standing between him and some nice peaceful silence. 'The sentence would just take circumstance into account -'
'There is no circumstance for -!'
'Really? Because circumstance played a pretty big role in how we used them during the war and how we were dismissed of charges -!'
'That's not the same thing -!'
'How is it not the same?! We were desperate and people were dying but that doesn't change the magic we used -!'
'It was war time! There was a dictatorship! Martial law was -!'
'Does that mean we have less moral responsibility?!' Harry demands with a throat feeling raw and a pounding heart. 'Does that mean we didn't know better?! You're going off on a technicality!'
There's fire in Hermione's eyes and anyone whose doubted that she shouldn't have been in Gryffindor deserved whatever hex was coming to them. 'You can't advocate for punishment when only you disagree with its use when its convenient for you!'
Harry almost recoils. 'You think that's what this is about?! What's bloody convenient?!'
'Isn't it?!' Hermione demands like the answer is already in front of her.
That's the thing with Hermione once she thought she was right, there was absolutely no changing her mind. She'd get blinders and it was pointless to argue with her.
'No! It's so a mother can defend her child without missing the rest of their life. It's about being able to get information out of a suspect in a hostage situation without prosecution. It's about - it's about being unforgivable but being so in an unforgivable situation -'
'They're called Unforgivable's for a reason, Harry! I can't believe you're trying to debate -!'
'You don't have to agree with it, Hermione but you're not even trying to understand -'
'Because I'm starting not to recognise you anymore!' Hermione bellows which sends his office into silence but their heavy breathing. 'What...what happened to the little boy who was unapologetically righteous?' By the end her voice was small and so was she.
Harry's heart clenches. 'He grew up. Hermione, the world's not black and white. It's not just Dark and Light. It's so much more...complicated than that.'
Hermione's face sort of...shatters before it restructures itself into something harsher, colder. 'It sounds like a lot of excuses to me, Harry.' She says damningly, like a goodbye.
He's now twenty-two and Harry had managed to turn public opinion well and truly against him. It had been a long time in the making but Harry couldn't honestly say he was surprised that after he makes a comment - that contrary to popular belief - he didn't actually hate Purebloods and why would you? - he's treated with disdain. He couldn't remember why he had, had to articulate the difference Purebloods and Pureblood Supremacists. Just that afterwards his comments had ended up splashed across newspapers and he was getting sent death threats.
Although Harry had been perfectly reasonable in what he had said; had explained himself just fine. That is not what people had interpreted nor what the Daily Prophet had written about.
"The Destroyer Of The Dark Lord Gone Dark?"
The title had stared at him like he had stared at it from where he was sat at Andromeda's table, her raging face gazing at him with a grandmother's worry with Teddy in her lap and a frown pressed against her lips. 'It'll blow over.' She had told him.
Grimly, Harry remembered looking at Teddy whose large aqua blue eyes matched perfectly with his hair. The little boy hadn't stopped glancing at the front page that had one of Harry's old Auror pictures on it.
He hadn't replied and neither did she.
A Howler from the Weasley's came not two minutes after.
Jarsdel walked into his Advisor office where Harry had started to take refuge. 'How's being a Dark Lord treating you?' The Head of DMLE asks sarcastically.
Harry snorts and looks back down to a list of new recruits. 'Yes, I'm laughing my through the next few weeks of training. Those recruits are going to have a Dark Mark and a fear of my authority by the end of the week.'
Jarsdel chuckles and sits a bottle of fire whisky down on Harry's desk. 'Figured you could use this more.'
By twenty-three, Harry was suffering the after effects of a Dark Hex that he had been Cursed with at a Ministry party after getting into a particularly heated argument with one of the guests on "Mudbloods" and their rights - or how little of them they deserved. They had been one of the Wizengamot too; a Lord that Harry had butted heads with over the years.
Surprisingly it had been Greengrass - Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass - who had defended him. A woman of composed voracity with dark brown hair and eyes shining in cold power, the colour of citrine. She had stood strong with a swollen belly. Though pregnant, that hadn't stopped Morris from raising his wand again. Harry had just been quick enough to pull her behind him, leaving his back exposed for a Severing Charm to cut into his skin.
Everything after that is a bit hazy but he remembers Astoria leading him to the Floo; how he had struggled every step as he hadn't wanted to put any unnecessary strain on her or her unborn child. She had been stubborn about it, though. Must have to be to have agreed to marry a Malfoy. Somehow she had gotten him to St Mungo's where she had completely ignored the front desk. He lost consciousness with Astoria fielding questions from a Mediwitch.
When he wakes, he's in a bed in one of the few private rooms of St Mungo's with a very irritated looking Draco Malfoy twirling his wand in the visitor's chair. Harry hadn't seen much of Malfoy, apart from at the Wizengamot where Malfoy who once loved being at the centre of attention, did his best to stick to himself.
'Potter.' Malfoy greeted once seeing that Harry was awake.
'Malfoy.' Harry returned, voice neutral but rough. A pause, 'Is your wife alright?' He had heard about the marriage, first through Andromeda mentioning it after reading it in the Announcement section of the Daily Prophet and again through whispers. The woman always had such conflicting feelings over the last few remaining members of her family. It was honestly sad.
The man stared at Harry for a moment before breathing out, a sigh of pure exasperation. It honestly reminded him of Neville for a minute there. 'You haven't changed, Potter.' Harry had been surprised despite himself and had floundered for something to say. 'You know you wouldn't be in this type of situation if you weren't trying to be everybody's friends.'
Harry raised an eyebrow. Is Malfoy, He had thought, trying to chastise me?
'Correct me, but I wasn't actually a Hufflepuff. I'm not trying to make "friends" with people.' Harry had scowled. 'I was a Gryffindor - not that should matter anymore - I'm being my usual self and doing what I think is right.' Not that you would know anything about that, Harry's inner eleven-year-old sneers. But he's past that, doesn't have reason to try and agitate Malfoy beyond what his presence was already.
'Well, your "usual self" is a fool, Potter!' Malfoy snapped, his wand now clenched in his fist. Despite this, Harry felt a sense of calm fill him. Malfoy had been trying to distance himself from his family name since Voldemort's second rise and fall. Although his views had probably been altered very little, it wouldn't be in his interest to harm Harry. 'You're going against your own image. You're losing all the support you built up from your last suicide attempt.'
'And your upset about that? I got into this mess by defending your fraction, Malfoy -'
'Yes, you dunce, but not yours.' Malfoy looked ready to pull his hair out. Or at the very least Harry's. 'Potter, your stupidity honestly offends me. You can't advocate for fractions that you don't belong to. It's a politic nightmare -'
'I don't particularly care all that much about politics. I never have.' Harry states. Yes, he was a part of Wizengamot now he had accepted his Lordship but he had quickly discovered how frankly backwards and circular a lot of their views and arguments were. 'And, I don't remember ever aligning myself with any particular fraction, Malfoy. Do you?'
That had at least seemed to bring Malfoy up short before he went back to sucking lemons. 'Potter, I know this may be hard for someone of your limited intelligence to understand, but you can't just - pick and choose. You'll lose everything.'
Harry's heart stalled and the desert that was his mouth burned. He closed his eyes for a moment, tired and resigned. 'I can't do this any other way.' He admitted. He had given a lot for this country. He couldn't censor what he believed in too.
Harry hears Malfoy's sharp breath, sounding almost startled and he wonders because that's the closest thing they've come to agreeing with anything. '…Potter, you know who you are. You're making enemies with everyone because you disagree with everything. However powerful you are, you can't win against the whole Wizarding World.'
It had been and would be the most - dare he word it - kind interoperation of "pick a side" he had heard. And it was from Malfoy. Harry had been getting it both ends from the Dark Fraction he had been getting scorn for what contributed as "false intentions". That he was trying to "Dumbledore" people to him. On the other side, the Light Fraction was cursing him for his betrayal because no matter what they pretended they didn't actually care about Creature Rights or making things right with the Dark after Voldemort. It was more centred around pandering.
Harry had put himself into a precarious position with his open stances that were led by both sides. Like, yes he very much agreed that Muggleborns should be allowed into the Wizarding World and have all the opportunities that their Pureblood counterparts had. That didn't, however, mean that he thought all Purebloods were evil or that a majority of their traditions should be done away with because they didn't jell well with all the uppity eleven-year-olds coming in this new World. And as for Creatures, well, he thought that Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use was a crude attempt to stomp a group of people under another. The Werewolf Code of Conduct outrightly disgusted him.
'I'm not trying to win, Malfoy.' Harry had sighed, voice sounding so very far away as he looked just over Malfoy's shoulder. 'Because I know I won't. You've taught me that. This is about…this is about being me.'
Malfoy paused as if he could not believe what he was hearing. 'What nonsense -'
'I can't give up everything, Malfoy. I can't and I won't. If the Wizengamot or the whole of the Wizarding World doesn't like what I have to say then that's really too bad because they're not going to silence me.'
'This is going to get you killed.' Malfoy stated as if he could see the future. His voice though…it did not sound how it was meant to. It wasn't gloating or snide. It was flat, almost infuriated if Malfoy had, had the energy to care. Maybe underneath all those masks, he did.
'Probably.'
Malfoy hadn't replied to that and had simply stood, raising with a practised ease and slipping his wand up his sleeve. He had put himself as Harry's lead Healer as an excuse to talk but he had, had other patients to tend to.
Ginny walks into the living room with a light limp which had been caused by a broom accident. Her eyes look him from head to toe and don't ask how he after being released from St Mungo's. He isn't surprised.
'I've managed to find a job.' Ginny announces.
Harry's just gotten in and wonders why she's telling him this now. He asks himself what their relationship even is anymore. 'That's good. Where did you -'
'I'll be working at the Daily Prophet.' She states. 'I'll be a Quidditch correspondent.'
Idly, Harry thinks this is what being stabbed in the back is really like.
Another year later and Harry was standing in Kingsley's office, shoulders squared and feeling every day his age. Kirkland is sat off to the side, looking resigned and pale. Kingsley's had his fingers interlinked in front of him and his mouth was set into a rather pained line. 'I'm sorry to call you in here like this.' Kingsley had apologised.
Harry had inclined his hand. 'No problem.'
'…I've only got another year left until election starts.' Kingsley had said, of which Harry had been aware. He sighed like his soul leaving him. His position had aged him like it had Harry only it seemed more evident with the elder man who had been giving all his time since his first election to try and get England back on track. To make like Voldemort never happened. With how cynical Harry had been feeling he couldn't help but think it's too bad this country's has been broken since the beginning.
'With the figures, I've been seeing recently of my approval ratings I think it's more than likely we'll have a new Minister For Magic.' Kingsley had admitted. 'And honestly, I'm ready to retire.'
'The people are ready for a change.' Kirkland confirms, lips straight. Harry always thought it odd how Kirkland could know his country's consensus but he was their Nation.
Harry didn't even blink.
Kingsley had quite a bit of popularity; not just from his whole in the Battle of Hogwarts but also for the respect he had built up over the years. However, it had been years and Harry could tell that a lot of people were getting restless.
'Harry, I -' Kingsley stopped like he wasn't sure where he was going or how he would get there. 'Harry, when you came to work for me I first had to promise that I would not let you down…' and yes, Kingsley had done his best to keep his word but with how difficult it was to be Harry Potter, it was doubly hard to be on his side. 'I fear I have not -'
Harry had held up his hand, a grim smile pulling at his lips that might have been hard to look at if the tightening of Kingsley's eyes said anything about it. 'Kings', what is it that you're trying to tell me?'
Kingsley looked at Harry, stared before he took a long, drawn breath. 'I'm afraid without myself as Minister that…you won't be able to continue to work at the Ministry for long. Or won't have as many freedoms as you once did.'
Harry pauses. He knows from talks that he had heard whispers about that Hermione who had risen to a position as one if Kingsley's Support Staff, that she was thinking of running for the next election.
'I've realised that.' Harry replies without inflexion.
Honestly, tensions had risen with Harry and he was under no illusion that his job could be coming to its end despite his age and ability. He wasn't worried about. He made a lot of people uncomfortable if not agitated.
His career, Harry understood, could begin and end with Kingsley and that was…he was prepared for it.
Kingsley grimaced. 'Harry -'
'You deserve better.' Kirkland states clear and deep. Regretful. His eyes are piercing and Harry wonders what their Nation sees when he looks at him. 'But then…you've always deserved better, haven't you?' He says far too knowingly which is enough of an answer for Harry.
'You work with what you're given.' Harry responds after a moment.
Tiredly and with impossible weight, Kirkland smiles. 'Quite.' He huffs a laugh. He sounds horribly old and perhaps it's terrible to think but he wouldn't wish to be a Nation on anyone. 'Harry, without Kingsley I'm afraid that you'll have to watch your back.'
Trepidation unsettles him even as he keeps his unruffled stance. 'Have you heard anything?'
'He doesn't need to.' Kingsley sighs with a weighty gaze. 'You've…caused quite a stir, Harry.'
Which is putting it mildly.
Harry stares at Kingsley, a Minister that had appointed him a top position and kept him on despite it affecting his own. He looks at Arthur whose impossible; ancient and holding every secret their country had but regarded him with a level of respect he didn't expect. He had come far from the young boy begging for answers, who near everyone looked down on to feel bigger.
And yet.
'Somethings never change.' Harry murmurs, sullen and lonely despite being in a room with what he would consider two friends.
He leaves not long after to a heavy gaze following him out.
Harry is now twenty-five and now has both a new Prime Minister and Minister for Magic. He hadn't expected the hung parliament in the Muggle world and Kirkland - who had been back and forth for both results - had, had to leave to meet his two new Bosses both of whom he wasn't overly impressed with. The new Minister for Magic, however, in the form of one Hermione Granger, he would have put money on.
Harry pushes away the hurt when she sits him down with an air of detachment like they hadn't been friends since eleven. Like he hadn't saved her from a troll or like she hadn't stood by him when no one else did. He tries to think of this, of the little girl with the amazingly frizzy hair and the bucked teeth who was always a little too smart as he looks at the cool woman in front of him. Who tells him in a passionless tone that she didn't want him as her advisor.
He hadn't thought she would want him. They talked less and less now even if he thought they were still friends. Harry just didn't fully expect whatever this was. 'You'll also have to be more careful from now on.' Hermione tells him strictly, clear disapproval on her face. 'As Head Auror, you represent your officers so I'm giving you a verbal warning right now, Harry. I can't have you being so…controversial. We are in a very difficult time right now and being so argumentative isn't helping anyone.'
Harry frowned, bit his tongue to keep his initial response unsaid. It wouldn't be appreciated. 'What do you want from me, Hermione? I train and discipline my aurors just fine. My own politics shouldn't -'
'As my Head Auror you'll uphold certain standards or you'll be removed.'
Harry thinks whatever friendship they had is lost in that moment. His face flattens and he agrees despondently. 'Of course, Minister.'
He wonders vacantly how long it'll be till she finds out he lied to her; if Hermione didn't already disbelieve him already. Harry thinks it won't be until he's unemployed.
'You saw what he did today, Hermione!' Ron exclaimed, hands in a death grip around his mug. Harry stopped short of the door he had been about to enter at his friend's voice, looking through the crack at the two lovers. 'In Auror training, with those new recruits - he just - disintegrated that dummy. Blasting Spells aren't meant to be able to do that! It's - it's unnatural!'
Unnatural. The word had spun around in his suddenly empty head; knocking around the edges of his mind as his breathing froze in his throat. And he knew instantly, without them having to say, just who they were talking about. And it hurt.
He had heard something like that before - from long ago when he was still just a scrawny, little thing living in a cardboard under the stairs.
But to hear it there? From a friend's mouth? Something in Harry cracked.
'I know. I know.' Hermione sighed to Harry's dismay. 'But he's always been like that: stumbling all over practised magical theory like it doesn't apply to him. It's - he's just always been like that, Ron. I warned you. He's not the same anymore and with all that magic…'
And it was terrible. It was terrible because that was something they had joked about, with their voices of exasperated fondness when they were younger, but this time they weren't joking and their tones held no warmth - no friendliness that could have made Harry feel welcome.
'Yeah, and I shoulda listened to you, I never do and bad things always happen!' Ron grunts. 'And - and now that freak's dating my little sister. What the fuck am I gonna do, 'Mione? He's dangerous!'
Dangerous? No one had ever said that to him before, not even the Dark with all that they had insulted him. Was he no longer being a naive eleven-year-old really that intimidating? Was there really that much difference between him now and who he had been when he was doing what he always had and was trying to what he thought was right?
Really, Harry wonders as he waits for Ginny when it was that she last looked at him with passion; when she last touched him with any fondness. Maybe he had fooled himself into thinking that what they had was still there and that they had just gotten older. And didn't that mean things getting…steadier?
And despite the criticism, Ginny had stayed with him. Things were rocky and sometimes she hurt him but that's what happened in relationships and when you were with someone you were meant to work on it. Now, though, Harry realised that he had been foolish. Ginny's instance that they not touch, the lack of time she spent at Grimmauld Place. Ginny had been trying to distance herself. Maybe getting a job with the Daily Prophet had been one of those messages, a sign she had been trying to give.
The door handle turns and he prepares himself for an unpleasant conversation when Ginny opens it and steps through into the living room, she is looking through the contents of her handbag like nothing was out of the ordinary.
'Harry, Mum's asked me for dinner -'
'I think I'd like my ring back.' Harry interrupts her as he watches her, his mind shadowing her form with the little girl he first met.
Ginny looks up, startled but…after a moment, her face doesn't shift into anything resembling sadness. She glances down to the promise encircling her finger before returning to him. 'Why?'
His heart clenches. Harry had wanted…
'Its about time, isn't it?'
Ginny returns the ring without a fight and leaves just as quickly.
Kirkland visited him quite a bit - or as much as he could - as a Nation, he was constantly on the go and travelling for meetings and other work but when he was brought back into the Wizarding World, he would always pop into see Harry. Sometimes he would even bring his hilariously bad baked goods. This time he had Japan in toe.
He was reading through a report when his door knocked. He was exhausted with how much work he had even with losing one of his positions, it seemed like he always had something to and with how much he had been struggling to sleep…well, he barely had time to blink the haze out of his eyes before Kirkland was prancing inside with Japan trailing hesitantly behind him.
'Harry, old boy!' Kirkland greeted, coming to a stop at his desk only to pause for a moment. 'Bloody hell, you look awful.'
Harry didn't even put down his pen (foreswearing quills) from his hand before pushing aside his fringe. 'Hullo.' He sighs. 'Nice to see you.'
Kirkland had only been back to the Wizarding World a few times, once was to introduce himself to Hermione. (She had found him absolutely fascinating once she had gotten her head over the shock of it.) To that point, however, Kirkland had missed a lot of the strain between Harry and his department and, well - everyone. 'Harry -'
'You've brought someone to meet me?' Harry asks instead of allowing Kirkland to pursue what would probably be a headache for the both of them.
Arthur doesn't answer for a minute before he sighs in resignation. 'You remember Japan?'
'Of course.' Harry responds because how could he forget?
Taking that as his queue, Japan walks forward. His steps are fluid and his movements are graceful as he looks at him with dark eyes. 'It is good to meet you again, Potteru-san.'
'And you, er…' Harry stumbles, unsure of how to address the foreign Nation.
'Ah, Honda Kiku.' The man smiles. 'How fairs the fan?'
Harry lowers his pen to open one of his draws where he happens to keep it. Pulling the fan out, the weight is familiar in his palm. Its energy is almost friendly. 'I think it's going fine, Honda-san.' He wasn't entirely sure he should be using the Nation's human name but it was offered to him and he was more comfortable in using that than his country name.
Honda extends a hand with the other holding back the sleeve to his kimono (Harry thinks) back. Harry doesn't pause before offering it back. Honda's thin fingers take a firm but gentle grip on it and snapping his wrist to open it. His dark eyes trace over it before he looks back up at Harry. 'You have taken good care of it.'
'Of course, you gave it to me.' Harry responds because honestly what type of person did Honda think he was? He hadn't really known what to do with it mind but he had felt like it was important, whether that was because Honda was a Nation or the object itself, Harry really couldn't say.
'I am happy to hear that.' Honda says as he continues to examine the delicate folds of the fan. 'It is very good gift though…it does not seem you know how you need to use it yet.'
Harry had known Dumbledore and he was friends with Luna. He knows what its like for a person be cryptic. 'I'm afraid not.'
'Hmm…' Honda hums thoughtfully as he flicks the fan closed. He handled it like an artist did a paintbrush, beautifully but with an edge that seemed almost dangerous.
'I hate to interrupt.' Kirkland blurts out before more can be said as he stares at Harry with eyes that are all but glowing. Harry feels like he can see everything and maybe he can. 'But has something happened Harry?'
'Its too long a list to get into.' Harry dismisses as his toes curl. 'Don't worry about it, Kirkland.'
Kirkland waves that away with his hand as he leans forward. 'Now, now. None of that. Arthur will suffice, lad.'
Harry's eyebrows jump up. '…Arthur?'
'Yes, now we're well acquainted, tell me what's happened.' Kirkland - Arthur commands 'Kingsley leaving, we knew, would hit you hard I just assumed since Minister Granger -'
'If you really want to know, Arthur, then I and the new Minister don't get along. She finds my opinions repugnant; I no longer measure up to the idealised image she has of an eleven-year-old.' Harry finds himself ranting as the temperature in his office rises. 'I recently found out that half the people in my life think I'm dangerous and since my partner was injured I haven't been able to get another one since I'm apparently too disagreeable to deal with, which means I'm stuck behind a desk most of the time - I got this job in the beginning to avoid this and - my finance - ex - whatever, didn't - she wasn't -'
'I believe, Potteru-san.' Honda interrupts before Harry can get anymore choked up. 'That I may have a suggestion for this fan after all.'
'Huh?' Harry says with his usual air of eloquence but Honda stares back at him steadily. Harry wonders what he has to do to be that balanced.
'I gave you this fan because you had earned it.' Honda explains though Harry still feels slightly lost; what Harry had done, he cannot see how it would benefit Japan, so both the Nation's thanks and his gift confused Harry, however, sincere they were. 'And it wanted you but you cannot find a use for it at present. I believe you will but…in order for it to aid you, I will have to ask you to trust me. Will you trust me?'
Harry can't help but glance to Arthur - his own Nation - whose watching calmly. '…I think that's a lot to ask nowadays, Honda-san.' He says eventually.
Honda huffs a gentle laugh. 'Sadly, it is but I shall ask of it anyway.'
Harry shifts in his seat and really wonders what all this is about. '…what do you want?'
Honda swiftly exchanges the fan from his dominant hand to extend it. 'Your hand, please.'
Harry stares at the pale palm in front of him.
'Go ahead, old boy.' Arthur encourages. 'Japan isn't one for subterfuge. It'll be alright, I'm here regardless.'
'Arigatou.' Honda says with a side glance to Arthur. Harry says but offers his hand to which the Nation inclines his head thankfully and then go on to look at it like he had the fan. 'Hmmm…I sense that the fan would perish for the arm but, yes. It will have to be the hand.'
Perish?
Honda gently turns Harry's arm over by his wrist to place the fan stabilising on his palm all the way to his fingers. Harry was about to ask when Honda warns: 'Now this may tickle.'
Honda places his other hand on top of the fan which starts to glow as the fan - much to Harry's horror - disappears into his skin. Once Honda has withdrawn, the fan is no more and what remains is a phoenix fluffing itself on Harry's hand.
'Um.' Harry stares.
'Do not worry, I have simply bound the fan to you.' Honda states like he was talking about the weather. 'It will aid you when you need it and so should I if you ever needed it, Potteru-san. Please remember that.'
Harry looks up, "why" is on the tip of his tongue but, instead, he shakes his head. 'I need a drink… would you like to pay mine a visit?' He almost bites off his own tongue when he realises what he just said.
'Looks like you need sleep.' Arthur observes and yes, that would be nice except he's been struggling with that aspect of his life.
'It'll help.'
The two Nations agree and they talk for some time while Harry finishes up the rest of his report. When they Floo to Grimmauld Place Keature proceeds to trip over himself to honour "Master Harry's much great guests". Their conversation is on the edge of serious but that's not before sake is introduced into the equation. (Harry has no idea where Honda pulled that out from and he's not sure he wants to know either.)
Harry tries to continue on which wasn't all bad however much depression dragged him further into the darkness of apathy and fatigue. He still had people. Luna, eccentric and untameable Luna with a face that seemed ever surprised and eyes that would looked at the world in a daze, would visit him every time the moon changed shape - something to do with interference - and would talk about things that Harry thought was meant to be very important, which he never really understand but one thing: the tone. They were warnings.
Luna was warning him about something. But then that was Luna all over, and he was just sorrier that he had never been good at hearing what she had tried to say. There was just so much against him.
Harry would go to see Neville and his plants occasionally as well and he'd be greeted with a smile but there always seemed to be an air of worry; like something was coming but the only thing that was keeping it at bay was the silence of not speaking about it.
Neville who was reliable and had done so much for him in recent years would sometimes look at Harry like he was afraid that he'd disappear and Harry was never sure how to respond to it. He was never sure if it had to do with Luna or the times they had spent as auror parents.
In the end, it took Andromeda and a mission going wrong for Harry to truly see what was going on around him.
The mission, of course, came first with things not going to plan.
Larson Tinningford, a piece of slime who was ambitions in all the wrong ways, jumped the gun on a group of suspected Death Eaters and it all went to hell after. Harry's team - people he had known from school, people he had trained were being shot down like flies and he knew - he knew he had to do something.
Before it was too late.
Harry went all out for the first time since learning of Ron and Hermione's true opinion of him and just blasted through them. Through the Dark Magic and through the barrier they had erected, once he had started to overpower them with his team laying injured around him.
He had wanted to protect them - make sure that they could get medical attention as soon as possible. He had wanted to put the Death Eaters away for a very long time - for them to be brought to justice, for all the crimes they had committed and all the people they had hurt.
He shouldn't have done that.
Harry should have kept his head down; kept his magic settled. Like everyone had been hinting he should.
Harry should have - well, there were a lot of things he should have done. Point was, he didn't. He thought that because he was doing a good thing: his job, that it wouldn't matter that he could take down ten wizards, who were dangerous enough to be put on the Ministry's Billboard of Unsavoury Faces.
Their faces. Harry will never forget the way that looked at him when the smoke cleared. Nausea overcame him and forgetting the responsibility he held to these wizards, sent a Patronus for backup and medical aid before Disapparating. He stumbles through Grimmauld's wards, startling Keature who was on him in a minute.
The poor House Elf doesn't know what to do with Harry on his knees, heaving into one of the more expensive rugs. Keature goes from demanding to know if Harry was ill too if someone had poisoned him. He can't find the breath to answer any of the enquiries.
Air has left him and panic only tightens his throat until he is curled up into a pitiful ball on the floor, crawling at his chest as his lungs stall. Blackness is capturing his vision as he stalls desperately up at Keature. Keature who has taken so much from him. Keature who does so much for him. Keature…
The absence of thought is comforting.
And then he wakes up.
He is on his couch. A spring is digging into his back, his chest hurts, his eyes are heavy in his skull but his breathing - deep as it is - works. From the ceiling to the presence beside him, it takes longer than it should recognise the figure beside him as Malfoy. He looks…pale with tight lips.
'Potter.' He near growls and Harry thinks back to eleven and threats of "my father hearing about this" and stupid, pointless duels at night. 'You had a panic attack.'
'Panic…?' Harry's voice is hoarse, faltering.
'Yes.' Malfoy snaps. 'A panic attack. What in blazes happened?'
Harry struggles to swallow and almost immediately is a glass of water with a straw shoved into his face. Bracing himself with his elbow, he shifts so he can drink; he didn't realise how much everything was burning until that first gulp. His eyes sting. 'Just finished another mission.'
Malfoy blinks. 'Yes? And what about it?' Harry doesn't answer right away, now awake a sense of numbness washes over him. He wants to sleep.
'It was nothing -'
'Seriously. You haven't changed. I get pulled from work by a hysterical House Elf, transported practically against my will in front of my staff and my patients, to have to deal with you hyperventilating in your own vomit and you have the absolute gall to lie to me? I don't believe for one second this is about you getting scared over some criminal, Potter, so why don't you make both our lives easier and -'
'The criminals got scared over me.' Harry corrects finally. 'I'm…used to that. Maybe they have reason to be even if I've never - but my squad - they were scared too.'
Harry doesn't really notice how Malfoy's expression settles from something frustrated to an emotion that was entirely too complex, almost solemn as grey eyes regarded him. Harry runs a hand through his hair, clenching at the strands. 'They were terrified. Looked at me like - and I - I went to school with them. Or I trained them. We work together. I'm - I'm the Head of their Department and - they were scared of me.'
He knew people were intimidated by him but -
He had never -
Never had he seen that before…
'Deep breaths, Potter.' Malfoy commands. 'Inhale for five seconds, exhale in another. Keep to that pattern.' Harry, again, thoughtlessly followed instruction. Everything felt so grey. So colourless. And he hated himself for that; for becoming so muted in a world that had once felt so wonderful.
'Honestly…' Malfoy finally sighs. Harry can't identify the tone as he pressed his palm against the beating of his heart. 'I warned you, Potter. When I said to pick a side it wasn't purely because it put you against both fractions in the Wizengamot. People don't recognise your fool self anymore; they don't know you.'
Harry stares, feeling off balance. 'But I haven't changed - I haven't -'
'You're not a three-feet-nothing, eleven-year-old anymore. You're the wizard for defeated the Dark Lord -'
'Exactly!' Harry snaps through gritted teeth until Malfoy gestures for him to takes another breath when his gets wheezy again. It does not stop the hammering of his heart.
'And you did it effortlessly.' Malfoy continues like they hadn't just paused for a few minutes for Harry to settle again. He remembers that Malfoy is a Healer. 'You stopped the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, effortlessly. Have a high position in the Ministry and are all over the place with your policies. You, Potter, are a threat.'
Malfoy says it like it's fact. Like Harry's being practically thick and he's spelling it out for him. Like Harry didn't spend his childhood defeating his parent's killer. Like Harry didn't walk to his death. Like Harry didn't then devote everything else to building the country back up again.
'You aren't scared of me.' Harry knows this. He meets Malfoy's eyes - the eyes he shares with Harry's godfather and Andromeda - the eyes that had been looking directly at his all this time, and not once had they flinched away. Not once had they cowered from him. Not once in all the years, they had known each other.
'No.' Malfoy agrees as he stands, setting the glass down on the coffee table as he raises. 'Remember to breathe, Potter.' He says as he starts to walk away. Harry watches him, silently. 'Oh, and Potter? If I were, I'd give things a break.'
With those parting words, Malfoy is gone.
Harry had the feeling that Malfoy didn't just mean a "break".
The following two days had been days off of his and after spending one in bed, curled up in the dark with Keature standing in the doorway, large almost glowing eyes watching him. The silence was what he had wanted by then his thoughts tormented him.
He got up and went to visit Andromeda. He needed someone to discuss things with and she always helped him. Was always prepared to listen.
As soon as he arrived in the living room (he had been given access to the wards,) he knew something was wrong. Andy rushed into the room with an alarm running through every line of her body as she all but collided with him. Her face was exhausted and she appeared on the brink of tears.
Harry brought his hands up to steady her, went to ask what was wrong; if Teddy was already but she was already babbling at a speed. Something had deeply broken her composure, left her int his state.
'Oh - oh, Harry, dear, you shouldn't have come.' She says while trying to contain a sob.
Instantly, Harry is on-guard and he tenses. 'What - what are you -?'
Neither got the chance to say another word before the door to the lounge door was burst open and obviously breaking a Silencing Spell setting it, because suddenly Harry could hear Teddy's cries, his screams of: 'Uncle Harry! NO! Uncle - Uncle Harry run! Run, Uncle Harry!'
Harry's first instinct was to step in front of Andromeda. To protect her from intruders and he did but he noticed immediately that one of her hands - her hands so much like her daughters, elven but strong - gripped hold of the back of his shirt, limiting his movement and stopping him from drawing his wand.
'Wha -'
Harry didn't even get the chance to question it or to fully take in Andromeda's devastated face before red light was racing towards him and everything turned black. He just felt himself hit the ground before everything disappeared.
When he woke up he was being held in one of the Ministry's Interrogation rooms, strapped up with magic-damping cuffs and his missing wand which was in a stasis field on the table in front of him. An intimidation technique: the wand chooses the wizard after all. What they don't tell you is that the wand knows the wizard too.
'Jarsdel?' Harry had choked groggily. The man was sitting in front of Harry with his arms folded and his head hanging, expression pinched and somewhat pained. Despite the situation, Harry should have taken comfort in at least having Jarsdel there. He did not. 'What - what's -'
'You know the problem with a lot of good people?' Jarsdel said almost conversationally, something that instantly put Harry ill at ease. He had known this man from the start of his Ministry career.
Jarsdel had been the one to train him. To show him how to write an arrest warrant. To show him through all the paperwork once they had both been promoted and Harry had replaced him as Head Auror. Who always seemed to know when to get the alcohol out and could dance Hermione into a murderous rage.
Jarsdel who was abrupt and vague but who was an amazing person; a good person despite what his square jaw and slanted eyes might tell someone. Jarsdel who know looked like he was being crushed by the badge on his chest.
'…There aren't enough of them?'
Jarsdel snorted sardonically but there was a horrible bitterness about his mouth, that had Harry thinking he agreed anyway. 'They're so good that no matter how much they've seen of human cruelty, no matter how intelligent they are, they can never fully see the bad side of the people around them because it's so outside their realm of compression they're blind to it.'
Harry's throat was dry already but on hearing that - and looking around the Interrogation Room - he knew that something was very wrong, and it had his insides twisting. 'Why have I been taken into custody?'
Jarsdel, however, ignored him and continued with a dead voice: 'I knew this would happen eventually. I knew from the second I got to know you that this world would destroy you. It always does, with people like you.' Harry felt his stomach drop to his toes, a rush of anxiety hitting him over the head enough to disoriented him. 'I warned Kingsley. You're just too different. Too powerful. You don't give a damn about the status quo. Blood purity means nothing to you. You're too unpredictable and too bloody incorruptible to use. It makes the Muggleborns distrust you, the Purebloods unable to stand you and the Wizengamot desperate to get rid of you.'
Jarsdel talked like this was Harry's eulogy; a parting sentiment and it was then that Harry truly felt his restraints. Jarsdel had been an auror for longer than Harry had been alive, was a cynical Pureblood that didn't really belong anywhere. Who was an outcast but one with occasional influence and was happy that way.
'What am I being charged with?!' Harry demanded desperately looking at Jarsdel with large eyes.
Jarsdel closed his own in a way that was so resigned and awful that Harry could look away, however much he wanted to. Shuddering a breath, the man answers: 'Harry James Potter you are under arrest on suspicion of undermining Ministry powers, associating with illegal creatures, breaking of protocol -'
'Don't bullshit me!' Harry shouted in a voice that rattled around his head, unfamiliar. The answer, however, cut off as it was enough for him to understand his situation. A dark smirk morphed his expression into something cold to hide his fear, the tingling of betrayal crawling just beneath his skin.
'"Undermining Ministry powers"?' Harry repeats before goading: 'what is this? A dictatorship? Come on, Jarsdel. Give me a straight answer.' This act wasn't working, not if Jarsdel's palpable sadness was anything to go by.
Jarsdel was silent for a moment before he leant forward, elbows pressed against the table that separated them. 'Its new. Our Minister was…concerned. With a new Voldemort appearing. Or, that's the argument she gave in the emergency Wizengamot session she called last night. It has than clauses…'
Everything was suddenly hideous clear. '…I've…I've broken every one of them, haven't I?'
Jarsdel didn't need to respond. Hermione was smart. She was brilliant. She was good at her job, knew the Ministry and it's system inside and out and was horribly competent. She had also learnt a hard lesson during the war and that was how to bend rules. It had always been in his favour before.
'I think the reports about how…"unstable" you were on that mission, from your squad was what -' Jarsdel tried to theorise.
'Stop.' Harry tells him. He doesn't need to be told what was already painfully obvious. 'Before Hermione was the Minister and past the war, she was my friend. I don't need this to be explained to me. She thinks I'm dangerous. That I'm a threat to the Wizarding World. This is…' he thinks he's crying. He's not sure anymore. 'This is brilliant. She - takes care of it without having to kill me. And this way she can turn it into her favour. And - and no one voted against this did they?'
Jarsdel lips were pulled down and his eyes were glassy. 'A few. I swear that a few -'
Harry laughed. It came out a sob. He doesn't have the strength to feel embarrassed about it anymore. 'I've - Will, I've given everything to the Wizarding World -'
'Outside your comprehension, huh?' Jarsdel mutters ironically, fond and all manners of pained. 'Harry…' he begins but trails off, obviously not knowing what to say.
Harry stares at this man. The friend he had found in his superior and whispers over the lump in his throat. 'What happens now?' It doesn't matter that Jarsdel had no words. They had, had good times and Harry still had his regard. That was all that mattered.
Jarsdel's face is completely blank after a moment. 'I help them destroy your life.' He replies while removing a viral from the pocket of his trousers. He places it on the table for Harry to see the Ministry's stamped cork. It was not traditional to drug convicts. As in, it was illegal.
'Ah.' Harry says.
So. This is how it's going to go. Harry thinks dispassionately as Jarsdel stands from his chair with poorly hidden agitation. The man rounds the table and roughly pulls Harry's head back by his hair. Feeling Jarsdel's fingers trembling and Harry understands that they are both as trapped as each other.
Jarsdel opened the potion with his teeth, roughly and with an air of aggression as he spat the cork out across the room. When his other hand squeezed Harry's jaw and he doesn't struggle, complying by opening his mouth and allowing whatever was in that viral to be poured down his throat.
There was no getting out of this. Even if he overpowered the restraints he wouldn't be able to make it out of the Ministry. The one time he had broken out was with Ron and Hermione and even with the aspect of surprise and disguises, Ron had been seriously injured. Harry wouldn't have anyone, everyone would be tense and ready for him. He'd be lucky to make it off of the Floor.
The potion starts to take effect quickly. Harry starts to feel dizzy and the room spun but he was conscious enough to feel the older man's arms wrap around him, allowing Harry to lean against him instead of the coldness of the stool.
Jardel's harsh hands turned soft, like a father's touch as he holds Harry. It doesn't matter. Harry thinks, refusing to look anywhere but Jarsdel and all his powerful anger. Even if its poison - I have nowhere else to go.
Distantly as his vision turns black, he can hear apology after apology uttered into the otherwise silence of the room, and he smiles, whispering a numb assurance. It was just as well as not a moment later he lost control of his body altogether.
A door opened and heavy footfalls followed. 'Is it done?'
'Yes.'
'We can move him now he's been secured -'
'Head Auror Potter will be ready for transfer in ten minutes when the potion is fully absorbed.' Jarsdel snaps. 'Now get out until I call you.'
Arms tightened around him. 'Sir -'
'OUT.'
And then his hearing was gone too.
The next time Harry is conscious - or aware - he's in a cell. It's dark. It's cold. And he can tell with a lurching gut that it's Sirius'. The Wizarding World had a sick sense of humour.
Harry was put into Azkaban. It takes a moment to process that and he spends the next ten minutes wondering if he had, had a trial or if he had simply slept through it. Either way, he doesn't think it matters too much. If the Wizarding World wanted him there, he would have been sentenced either way.
Harry remembers very little of that time: the days seep into one another, greying and fuzzy. In some respects it's a relief, in others it's just another sign of his own weakness. And the Dementors liked that; liked his helplessness, almost as much as they liked to feed on the chinks in his armour. With all the pains that had grown since he was merely thirteen and his one, terrible memory had been his mother screaming her last breath he must be favoured amongst the creatures.
He finds out soon enough though that Andromeda and Teddy have managed to get visitation. He discovers this after being woken up with Teddy shaking his shoulders and Andromeda attempting to hold him up, from where he was dangling from his chains. For one horrible minute, he had panicked, thinking that they had been imprisoned too.
It took half-an-hour for Andromeda to calm him down and then longer to explain what had happened.
'I'm - I'm so, so sorry, Harry.' Andromeda whispered the words themselves were a shame all on their own. 'A team of aurors demanded access to the house and then showed me your arrest warrant. I - I told them that you weren't there. That I wanted them to leave but the office knows you spend a lot of time there and knew it was their best bet.'
It had taken moments of stretched out time for Harry to process that but he nodded in slow movements to show he understood. It had been a long time since he had spoken and he hadn't been entirely sure that he remembered how. It made sense, though, once he had worked the words out.
'They'll never forgive me, not when I reach the great beyond. Sirius will be furious, dear Remus will scorn me and - and Nymphadora - my Nymphadora -'
Harry couldn't connect the pieces for Andromeda's ramblings and tried swallowing to ask. 'Wha-? You…you've done - done nothing wrong.' He uttered, voice so soft he couldn't hear it under the frail beating in his ears. He couldn't blame Andromeda for how she reacted to the situation. The poor woman had Teddy to look after.
'No, Harry.' Andromeda told him gently, her ageing hands stroking his sunken in cheek. She had blessedly loosened his manacles so that the chains would allow him to sit. Teddy was in his arms, acting like a blanket against the ice that breathed in through the cracks of the walls and it was the warmest he remembered being. 'No you don't understand. I would have - done something. Warned you. But - the warrant - it said that they had permission to use lethal force if you resisted so - so I -'
Harry had blinked up at her face which was every bit as distressed as the night of the arrest. Cloudy as his mind was, he still recalls her small hand holding him back, probably saving his life in the process.
Weakly, Harry shook his head. 'Woulda - would have happened anyway.' He said with certainty, knowing that even if he had fought, it wouldn't have done him any good. 'Just the way things are. My fault for…for being too dangerous.' The words were like acid in his mouth.
Instantly, Teddy peeks out from where he had his face hidden in Harry's now long hair. (Really, how much time had slipped away? He hadn't noticed any of it. He wonders if this was what it was like for Sirius. Sirius.) 'Uncle Harry's not dangerous! Uncle Harry's - Uncle Harry's a hero! You save people! You're an auror!'
Harry closed his head, tired and without any fight, without the fire that burned in his chest. 'No. I was.' Before he turned to Andromeda who seemed pained by the correction. 'Whats happened since I was thrown in here? And…how did I get here - and when? Answers, please not in that order.'
Andromeda hesitated, biting her lip in a nervous gesture that Harry hadn't seen before. Maybe he was worse than he thought. 'You…you don't remember?'
Harry's chest tightened but he lightly shook his head. 'Remember what?'
'The trial. Your trial.'
Harry felt himself sigh, a resigned sound as he quirked what was meant to be a smile at Andromeda. He was out of practised and wasn't at all surprised when she grimaced. 'I was given one then?'
Andromeda's face seems to collapse and as numb as Harry's body felt to him, he could sense Teddy tightening his trip on his feeble frame. '…I…' she wavered, obviously uncertain as she looked away altogether.
'Just tell me, Andy.' Harry says, feeling a hundred and slipping from life. 'Just…just tell me.'
In a rush of words, Andromeda explained the "trial." How Harry had been dragged in with half-cast eyes and restrained in the convict's chair, centre seat in the middle of a hateful crowd in the pit of the court. How Harry had obviously been suffering from some sort of potion and couldn't respond to any of the statements that were taken; how he hadn't seemed aware at all. How many people came forward as witnesses to support the case, some being old friends, co-workers and even the people Harry had once trained.
How Andromeda, who had attended the three-hour hearing, hadn't even understood how what Harry was being charged with had been brought to court. That she thought it was the biggest disgrace she had ever seen and that she had seen many.
She talked about how the Wizengamot quickly sentenced him to Azkaban, citing that he was against their way of life; the establishment. How the warden had then stepped forward, his officer faithfully following him. How Andromeda had stood from her seat in shock when she had seen them and the chest the officer carried.
As soon as Harry heard this his vision snapped to where his hands were dangling, just higher than his head: stiff and tight manacles enclosed around his wrists, and just under those were golden gauntlets. Gauntlets that only the worst of criminals would be fitted with: the Limiters for the amoral.
Once they were on the seam and clasps of the gauntlets would meld together, leaving them skin tight and impossible to get off. Their function? Stopping a Witch or Wizard from accessing their magic. The metal was magic-null and anything cast would be rebound. Harry had read about desperate witches and wizards cutting off the arms to try and get rid of them, only for the gauntlets to poison them, leading them all to death.
The feelings that welled up inside Harry and what the gauntlets meant was something - even years later - he would struggle to explain. Just that it was his darkest emotions he had, had and it suffocated him to the point of hyperventilating.
For what was he without his magic?
What would he do without it?
How did he - how could he defend himself?
Live without it?
Live at all?
He lost conciseness as it all got too much for his weakened and ill state and he slumped back, against the brick wall behind him to Andromeda's and Teddy's worried voices.
The next few months afterwards, the Dementors just wouldn't leave him alone as dread and depression clutched hold of his heart, with icy detachment and the heat of righteous anger.
'Harry?'
'Uncle Harry?'
Sometimes Harry didn't respond - didn't know how to, had gone whole visits without saying a word but in exhaustion, he finally answered: 'Why?' His eyes are closed, too weak to open them and without the strength to see his new reality. 'Why are you here. How are you here?'
He knew that it was close to impossible for people to visit convicts in Azkaban. It was usually done through dirty deals but Andromeda - despite the close resemblance she had held to her elder sister - wasn't that type of person and never would be. She wouldn't stoop so low.
He heard the woman's sigh but she didn't keep him waiting. 'Do you remember making Teddy your heir?'
Yes. Yes, he did. Harry had done that soon after discovering how…afraid he made people. He didn't want his family vaults in the hands of the Weasley's no matter how much they could have used the financial support, he had some pride and wanted the Potter name to be left with someone who cared about what that meant.
Teddy was beautiful and his and would tell Harry every day that he loved him. A special moment was when - on seeing the photo of Harry's parents - his godson had said how much Harry looked like his mother and how she was pretty, how his father seemed kind like Daddy, sealed it for Harry. That it was an act of defiance against the Ministry who hated Teddy for what Remus was, but would want his money, just made it all the sweeter.
'Teddy's had his thirteenth birthday, Harry.' Andromeda told him gently. 'With my help, he petitioned to take over the…Potter Lordship. The Ministry didn't want to allow it, but the Goblins pushed it through. With Teddy as Head Potter, he can demand visitation.
'Teddy - Teddy was thirteen now?' Had he missed his godson's thirteenth birthday?
'I'm…sorry, Harry. If I knew of any other way - if I was able to get you out of this hell hole - if we could -'
Without feeling, Harry interrupted. 'It doesn't matter. If I didn't want Teddy in my family, I wouldn't have made him my heir.' He told her. 'It's not like I'm ever getting out of here anyway.'
'Uncle Harry.' Teddy protested softly.
'You two should leave.' Harry informed them listlessly. 'You don't belong here.'
'Uncle Harry!'
'I don't want you coming here again.' Harry continued. 'You're putting yourselves in…in danger. Just stay away.'
'Now, see here -' Andromeda started but Harry was well past caring at this point.
'No. I don't want you here. You should never have come here to start with.' Harry with one dying push, opened his eyes and stared straight at the last two members of his family who huddled together by the door against the cold - against his gaze. The last two people that had been entrusted to him. 'I'm a dead man. Look at me, really look at me. I'm not getting out of this one. Think of me as buried in Hogwarts and move on. Stop looking back at my body and live your lives.'
Andromeda's face was both shocked and appalled, her hand on Teddy's shoulder tightening, colour gone from her cheeks as Teddy cried. 'You don't mean that! You don't mean that Uncle Harry!' Teddy shouted like he had shouted at Harry the night they took him away. 'You're stronger than this, I know you are! You're stronger than them!'
'Teddy.' Andromeda warned but her heart wasn't in it as she looked at him.
'No! No Granny!' Teddy frantically shook his head. 'Harry is stronger than this! He can get over this! He could stand if he wanted to!'
What a pathetic picture he must have made. 'Kid, I'm not going anywhere -'
'Stop! Stop it! You could. I know you, Uncle Harry! I know you can! Stop - stop wallowing! You could do anything, I know because I've seen you. I know because I believe in you.'
Something shifted in Harry's chest but he pushed it down. 'I'm a useless pile of bones, Edward -'
'NO!' Came Teddy's forceful scream startled even Andromeda. Harry jolted backwards, knocking his head against the stone. Teddy took a step forward, swinging a fist as his eyes burned into a deep black with a fire of red fire smouldering just underneath the surface. His hair, which was still long from their last visit threw itself into a electrocuted frenzy. 'No, you are Harry James Potter, my Godfather. You're an auror who worked every day to save lives! You're a soldier that stopped a war! You're a man and you're alive and I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere.'
'Teddy…' Harry whispered, wondering vaguely if this was really the little baby boy he first held. The first child he had fallen in love with but there was Tonks in how he glared stubbornly back to him, daring Harry to argue. There was Remus in the sneer of his mouth, in how he stood. There was the Black's - Sirius in his determination; his stubborn loyalty.
An energy pulsed in the air, something not unlike magic but that would have been - impossible, not in Azkaban.
And suddenly Harry couldn't argue, didn't want to disappoint everything Teddy was; everything he represented. Couldn't fail that little boy who used to look up to him like could do anything. Like Harry was a hero. Like Harry was better than he was. That unconditional love every child had for a parent, Teddy had given him without knowing and just kept giving. And Harry knew he would do whatever to keep it, but this…
'I'm…' Teddy said, shoulders hunching and his tears falling. 'I won't ever give up on you. So you can't either.'
'Teddy I'm not…without my magic….' Harry trailed off, glancing to runes carved into gold with all the grief he could feel for himself.
Another pulse resonated between them.
'Stop being stupid!' Teddy snapped, shocking Harry again. 'You aren't just your magic! Besides your magic's still there - its…its just…a little harder to get to now.'
Harry looked back to the gauntlets. Teddy wasn't wrong…His core remained untouched. Safe. But…'I - I don't know - I don't know how to…how to be that person anymore, Teddy.' Harry admitted quietly, the sound barely leaving his lips. 'I've…forgotten…'
The infuriated air about Teddy vanished, abating into something tender - something far too old to be seen on someone so young. Teddy left his grandma's side and walked forward, a weak smile on his lips as he knelt down in front of Harry, kindly linking their hands together.
As soon as their skin touched a jolt of that same - something, that was in the air earlier, ran down his arms and travelled along his spine. Harry's back arched in surprise, his hair standing up on end. 'Wha - what was that.'
Muted joy shone in Teddy's eyes. 'I've learnt a lot since you've been in here. History, politics, magic essences.' He said. 'It was a condition to maintaining your - my title.'
The term rattled around in the fog in Harry's head before he gave up. 'Magic essences?'
Teddy nodded. 'Every witch and wizard have magic right? And blood doesn't change that, but there are different types of magic.' He explained slowly, seeming to understand how ill Harry was. 'I found out that I have a red aura, which makes me a Storm Elemental.'
Elemental? Harry knew a bit about them. They were wizards who held control of fire. The joke around the office had been that it was the power of spontaneously combusting without the commitment of actual combustion. There had been…five types - maybe more, with each type having a different ability that was responsible for separate traits.
But…
'I - I don't understand.'
'I didn't to start with either. Someone's type of magic can be important even if the Wizarding World doesn't think it matters anymore. Different types have different characteristics: Storm type can very…aggressive and hard to control.' Teddy said, his hands tightening around Harry's, that strange energy still travelling down his arms. 'And guess what, Uncle Harry? Your aura's orange. Not just that, you're an Elemental, I can tell.'
Harry didn't know where this is going but Teddy found it important - he spoke with such an overwhelming sense of happiness - so Harry would at least listen. 'Okay, I'll bite. What does that mean?'
'You're a Sky, Uncle Harry. An active one, more importantly - My Sky. You're my Sky. I figured it out when my teacher was explaining the part about Elemental Bonds. Of course, he had an idea that I had attached myself to someone but - but I just knew, before he mentioned it - that it had to be you.'
Harry didn't know what being a Sky meant just then and he'd be whatever Teddy wanted to him be but this wasn't helping his headache. 'Teddy - Teddy, Love, I…you'll be able to see that I'm not in a good way, you'll…have to elaborate for me.'
Excitement bubbled in the air between them almost strong enough to soothe away the pain that was still much too present. 'Don't you understand? Uncle Harry, the Limiters were designed for your magic. Not Elemental energy. That can't stop that. You still have power, Uncle Harry. They didn't take everything.' When Teddy released his hands, Harry barely felt it as his mind froze, but then his Godson was reaching into his robes and pulling something out. Something that he probably shouldn't have been able to bring into Azkaban.
Teddy held it out to him and Harry tried to focus on what was between Teddy's index finger and thumb. All he could really make out was something small and shiny. 'This is an Elemental Focus to help Elements channel their energies. It's meant to help new but active Elementals reach their core. I found it in the Potter Vaults. It was something like your…great, great, great, great grandmother's. It's a silver hair bead - thing.'
Harry snorted, the first bit of humour tickling Harry's heart. 'Thing?' He repeated. Teddy calls what must have been a priceless artefact a thing?
Teddy pouted. 'Well, sorry for not being an expert on jewellery.' He retorted before he crawled behind Harry, ducking under his Godfather's limply hanging arms.
'Teddy?' Harry asked in worry, tensing as Teddy started to pull at his incredibly tangled hair. He almost wanted to stop him, it couldn't be very clean and it felt unpleasant with how sore his scalp was.
Teddy didn't answer his silent question of What on earth are you doing? And instead whistles. 'Your hair's really grown, Uncle Harry! It goes all the way down your back!'
'Yeah? Explains the itching.' Harry says with dull sarcasm as Teddy seemed to gather all his loose hair. It was actually a relief to have it out of the way but that was beside the point.
'I'm just giving you a ponytail, Uncle Harry. I'd try a plait but…' Teddy trailed off, 'I got Mum's clumsy gene.'
Harry appreciated that. 'Right.' He paused. 'Why are you playing with my hair?'
'Uncle Harry! I'm not playing with it! I'm putting the bead "thing" in.' Teddy said and there was a smile in his voice. 'But of course, as Lord Potter, I'm simply doing this as an act of pity so you won't further disgrace our House. And if you happen to use the Focus, access your Elemental Magics and escape. Well, I'm hardly responsible. How should I have known it was a power artefact?'
Harry heard the click of the beads clasp locking, felt the weight of the metal and the spark of something from his chest. He could barely stop the shudder that racked his form and instead tried to focus on his wonderful, brilliant godson that was coming back from behind him. 'Teddy even if I was able to do any of that -'
'You will, I know you will.' Teddy interrupted with such absolute faith that Harry started to believe him.
'The Wizarding World would be…it would be furious if I broke out and the first people they'd come after would be you and your grandma. I can't -'
'Oh, please, Harry. I'm not so old that I can't handle myself and my grandson.' Andromeda sassed from where she had been silent up until then just as Teddy started up on another rant.
'All due respect, Uncle Harry, but shut up.' Harry's jaw snapped closed. 'I never asked you to be a martyr, the only thing I want from you is for you to get out of this cell, find somewhere nice to live, settle down with someone who'll look after you and will give me some brothers. That's what I want from you.'
'Teddy -'
'It's what I want.' Teddy cut over him, eyes staring straight through him as stubborn as his mother ever was but unselfish just like his father.
Harry breathed in and closed his eyes. 'I love you, Teddy.' He whispered to the darkness and with that, acceptance to what Teddy was asking of him.
Arms encircled his neck, hair brushed against his face and the words were whispered back. 'I love you too, Dad.'
It took Harry months - three exactly - and a Dementor getting too close for him to access the Flames in his chest. It is an indescribable feeling; like being free and coming home all at once. It's like he can breathe again after a live time of drowning. The Dementor dies with a scream of a thousand voices overlapping from the force of the orange light that was flowing out of him.
Its a loud, awful death and the body dissipates into shadows. There's a calm film clinging to Harry but he knows - though the noise would be masked but he hundreds of tortured souls - that he had to leave quickly now. He tests his bindings and that's when he notices the phoenix on his hand.
Ah, maybe…Harry thinks. He searches himself for the phoenixes energy and tries to shove it out. It all but exhausts him but he eventually has a fan in his hand that he uses to slice through the chains of his cuffs. From there he leaves through the door he had once broken down with Hermione, it needs some - encouragement to open but he manages it.
Harry used his Fire to fly through the freezing rain and howling wind, exhausted and hungry he somehow made it to France, passing out in a alleyway luckily undetected and in a Muggle area not long after. He spent a good three weeks there, stealing food and clothes he knew wouldn't be missed, before scurrying cross country.
It didn't take long in Italy for someone to pick him out, but not for who he was or his magic - which was what he had originally given him a heart attack - but for what he came to know as his "Flames." Fortunately they told him what it was - what, he was, before (forcibly) introducing him to the Mafia of all things.
Elementals were apparently in both worlds only to muggles, people used a different word: "Flame-user". Self-explanatory really.
Italy was a truly bizarre place but the more he got used to it, the more he liked it and the eccentric people that lived there.
Because he was a Sky (a rarity, even in the underworld. Lucky, lucky him) Harry didn't get much trouble with the locals he spent his time around, and even tentatively made some friends - and some not-friends, who helped him with his Flames and Magic alike.
A year later and he could channel portions of his magic through his Flames, enabling him to morph again (something he had learned to do in his early twenties for undercover work). Turning up the day after, to one of his usual haunts as a toddler was amusing, especially with the look of shock on peoples faces as he hinted at who he was.
However Harry just couldn't settle - especially not the way Teddy wanted him to. Not in Europe, still so close to England and its influence, so he moved. By then he had some money saved up and could do it by the books. Or as by the books as his new life style would allow. A friend of his helped him get a passport and booked a flight to Japan for him, a safe enough place apparently.
In a way Harry took his new identity - "Hirabayashi Hana" and ran with it.
It wasn't the easiest thing to do, especially with shrinking himself to a five year-old. Everyone had questions about where he was from, where his parents were. It worried him but he managed on his own, even going as far as to sign himself up for one of the local schools.
The language barrier didn't bother him, not with the weak translation spell he had, had placed on him when passing one of France's Magical populations, and his innate talent for them. A month in and he could pass for ordinary conversations and by two he was almost fluent.
Which is when he walked in on his future - or rather, part of it.
He had left from getting the papers he needed from the school he was going to join, and was scoping out the local park when he spotted a ground of brats bothering a little brunet. Instantly his magic gave a sharp tug. As bound as it was, it was the first time Harry had felt his magic react to anything which alone was enough to get him moving.
It turned out to be a stupid circle of bullies that Harry quickly dealt with, without too much difficultly. But when he turned around, hand outstretched to help the brunet up, Harry froze and the kid did too. Struck by large chocolate eyes Harry knew instant love - and an instant bond, like Sirius, like Teddy.
And even without a complete education and being muggle-raised, he knew what it meant.
His magic had found someone. Or from what he could feel, that someone's son.
Okay, so a cliche turn of phrase, but in the Wizarding World nothing could be truer. Marriage, was a big deal for a reason, as their ceremonies weren't just legally binding but magically as well: joining the two till death do they part.
Magic was a powerful thing in and of itself, able to seek out and wrap around like minded people; like the pull of gravity. For a lot of people it led to friends…followers. For authorities it was a good way of knowing who, to marry. Though Wizards had no concept on some Muggle's faith of "soulmates" if someone's magic truly chose someone, there was little difference.
And this was her son.
The one his magic had begun to pull him towards.
His first reaction was to panic, a bubble anxiety swelling in his stomach at the thought that - like everything else - his crappy luck had come into play and his - she, had already found somebody else. But the rush of Sky Flames in his system calmed him immediately because this was her son. And Just like Teddy, he was beautiful.
There were many things Harry wanted to say; the likelihood of this happening, with his magic like it was, with the way his very life had been going…for something as wonderful as this to occur…but instead of scaring the boy away he tried a smile, and lightly shook his hand so the brunet would grasp onto it to be pulled up. 'Are you alright?' He asked once he had the little one on his unsteady feet.
Shyly the brunet nodded, checks red but endearing and tears already drying. 'T-thank you for your help. T-Tsu-kun's sorry fo-for the bother…'
Was the bullying often? Harry couldn't help but wonder, it sort of sounded like it. 'Don't apologise for that, it wasn't your fault.' He said firmly and got a small smile. 'I'm Hana. Whats your name?'
The brunet blinked for a moment before replying: '
Tsu-kun's name is Sawada Tsunayoshi. B-but Hana can - can call Tsu-kun…Tsuna…if he wants.'
Harry nodded gladly, happy that he wasn't making a terrible first impression. 'Tsuna it is. I'm new here, so is this a good place to play?' He carried on, talking to the little one until it was getting dark and Tsuna meekly asked if Harry wanted to meet his Kaasan.
Harry's insides jumped and his heart strung him along all the way to the Sawada Household, where he'd meet pretty caramel eyes and light flowing hair.
He couldn't be any more smitten with the two of them if he tried.
Con/textual Vomit: So wow, I don't think I've ever had such a response for one of my stories. What pressure haha! Thank you, however, the reviews really encouraged me to push through this rather…difficult chapter. I needed to have a chapter which focused on Harry to give whats happened to him more context for future plot.
I'm not entirely sure if this really lived up to the first chapter but this was probably the best that I could do.
On another note I got a lot of reviews asking if Harry was part of the Arcobaleno so I hope this clears that up. As in, no he's not but that was actually a really good guess! Funnily enough that was something I looked over myself! Pretty shortsighted of me all things considered.
Hmm so, sorry if the magical essence thing was a bit bland but I needed to be able to interrogate both magic and flames somehow, so yeah. That was how. A bit abrupt but this really wasn't meant to go into too much detail, just give an overview for later on.
Don't know when I'll be updating this next as I don't have a good enough idea of what to do, but lets hope it won't take too long huh?
Update note: I've completely overhauled this chapter to fix some things so that I wouldn't have to go over it in future chapters. I've tried my best to fix all my mistakes etc but I doubt that I've got them all, you'll have to forgive me a few. If I didn't upload it now I never will ^^".
OZ
(First Uploaded: 22/ 11/ 2015) (Updated: 03.03.2016/ 15.04.2017)
