AN: Alright – here's the completely revised and edited first chapter. Thanks to my amazing BETA Draconis!
Sorry, there's no Draco in this chapter. But I promise he'll be in chapter three.
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Chapter one; plague of acceptance
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I'd scream if I could feel my tonsils or my collarbone.
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Godric's Hollow was a small village; in fact it was less than a quarter of the size of Little Whinging. The Potter mansion towered above the clusters of oak and sycamore trees, its beige paint job chipping away. Across the way from the gorgeous home was a graveyard, the Potter graveyard, surrounded by hedges forming a square of sorts.
Harry glanced up from his parents' graves to see Ron and Hermione talking quietly a few feet away above an older-looking headstone. His eyes were dark and thoughtful.
"Hi, mum, dad." A deep breath. "It, uh, looks like I won't be returning to the Dursleys anytime soon. That's pretty good. Except, you know, the whole reason is because Dumbledore's dead. I'm not sure what to do now. We'll be going to war soon, I think. That is, if we're not already in one. I've got Ron and Hermione and, hopefully, the Order to back me up throughout.
"But I'm going to need a hell of a lot more than them. Anyone who'll be fighting alongside me will have a lot of training and studying to do. Although, I don't think that'll be much of a problem for Hermione. Say hi to Sirius for me?" He said the last part in a hesitant whisper, closing his eyes and brushing his fingers along the cold stone.
Harry felt a gentle pressure pushing down on his bony shoulder and turned to face his two best friends with a slanted frown. His breaths were off key.
"Where're we off to, mate?" Ron asked curiously.
The boy-who-lived fixed his hooded eyes on the redhead. "Grimmauld Place. For the time being, at least. We need somewhere with a kitchen, open space, and a library. I don't know about you guys but I don't know of any other place that'd be safe."
Hermione and Ron nodded in unison, both grabbing for one of his hands. Their slight smiles were full of understanding. "Let's do this." He said, gripping both hands back tightly.
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"Hello, Minister," a malicious voice spoke right next to Scrimgeour's ear. "And how are we this morning?"
He tried to elbow whoever it was in the stomach, but failed.
"Oh no. We can't have that, now can we?" The stranger said, cackling as the minister fell out of his chair seconds later.
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Percy was born ambitious but he often thought he was destined to die early, or suffer through his melancholy life alone. He had a habit of burying himself in his work. There wasn't much else he had, let alone let himself care about.
Really, he thought about his family quite a lot, despite promising himself that he wouldn't. He couldn't involve them in his goody two-shoes ways. Too many things could go wrong. There was no way he could associate with them at a time like this – the Minister would not approve.
He rarely approved of anything lately.
So Percy dutifully carried out all of Rufus Scrimgeour's orders, even when he strongly disagreed with what they had him do. The only other events in his life were Puddlemere United's Quidditch matches. This was not because he liked the sport at all.
There was just someone on the team he was quite possibly in love with. He really did try to stay away and cleanse himself of the obsession but Oliver Wood was too friendly, too roguish, and too perfect – Percy couldn't help himself.
The redhead breathed much more quickly these days. Especially today. Today he was more tired than usual because there had been a game the night before. He sat quietly at his desk, shuffling papers and answering the flu with the most apathetic mood he could conjure.
Abruptly, the old fashioned floo in his office gave a start and he whipped around to face the fire place, his hair sticking up and fraying at the ends.
It was Scrimgeour in all his glory, wearing a dull grey suit and a slanted frown.
"Yes, Minister?" Percy asked.
The lion-like man stepped from the floo and brushed the remaining soot off of his shoulder. "This morning we were given word that there were Death Eaters infiltrating the Burrow." Panic struck Percy's fat-paced heart.
"Don't worry – no one was inside. Your family was out spending the day with the Lovegoods when all of this even began to happen. But we will need to do something in retaliation. We need someone to burn the Burrow as soon as possible. It's becoming a living booby trap."
With determination swelling in his chest, Percy replied, "Let me, Minister!" He'd make those Death Eaters pay for trying to hurt the Weasleys. Scrimgeour nodded, watching as his secretary dashed for his coat and ran out of the door.
Somewhere in Scotland a Dark Lord cackled.
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Ron blinked, "I don't understand."
Molly Weasley looked down at her youngest son, her face stained with dry tears. "T-the Burrow, Ron. It's been burnt down." A sob caught in her throat and she turned to bury her face in Arthur's shoulder.
"And it was Percy…who carried this out…" Ron said slowly, as if testing to see if the words were real on his tongue. His face twisted, mouth forming a single line as a red flush appeared over the tops of his cheeks.
They sat on an old couch, the Weasleys (excluding Percy), Harry, Hermione, Tonks, and Remus with hunched backs and anguished expressions, for most.
Ginny was squished between Bill and Charlie, clutching both their hands. She had never looked younger in Harry's eyes. Next to them Fred and George sat, pressing their sides together.
"I can see why he would avoid and leave us behind, the terribly dirty, poor Weasleys. But to burn down our home – nothing justifies doing that to your family!" Charlie put in, seemingly bewildered.
"There must have been some…allure from the ministry. No one can say Percy's controlling trait isn't ambition." Said Remus. Harry noticed his hair was grayer than the last time he'd seen him.
"Oh, thank you so much, Remus, for letting us stay here at your house. We'll have other accommodations, soon, I assure you. You're being very kind to us," Arthur interrupted, as though just remembering that the former professor was there.
Albeit many of the group had been sedated, weighed-down by the loss, Harry still felt something was off. Ron was radiating fury, as he stared blankly at the carpet.
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The first strange thing that occurred the day that followed the burning of the Burrow was Ron. Yes, Ron.
Percy had been sitting about, creaking in his chair when one of the ministry employees, Sheila, came to the door and told him he had a visitor. He didn't get visitors – he had appointments, meetings, deals but not visitors.
When he heard the door open and looked up he gaped. Then he set his features straight and greeted his youngest brother with a soft "hello".
Ron smacked something across the room with a furious shout, "What happened? How the hell could you do that, Percy? Burn – our – our home?" He noticed with shock that his sibling was shaking and looked close to breaking down in sobs – he had no idea what to do.
"Ron…I thought you'd realized, the Minister –"
"Bloody fuck the minister. What about our family, goddamn it?" Percy couldn't bring himself to reply because he was a little more than a bit confused.
There was a strangled sound and Ron was gone. Percy set his head down on his desk and tried to think of anything else.
Nearly an hour later Sheila popped up again, slipping his mail through a slot in the door, and the second strange thing happened. His back ached as he bent to pick it up. A red envelope lay at the top.
Three minutes after depositing the stack of mail onto his desk, Percy sunk into his seat wearily. He had received a howler from his mother. Percival Weasley a howler. He put his cheek to his desk and tried desperately to understand.
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"I need you to bring these to the Aurors' office." Minister Scrimgeour said bluntly, staring his secretary in the eye.
Percy swallowed an inquiry down and nodded. "Of course." He took the papers from his boss' hands and steered himself toward the elevator. There was no use flooing a floor below.
He looked down at the copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands and gasped.
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BOY-WHO-LIVED AND FRIENDS WANTED
By Gloria Napcrick.
Harry Potter and two of his friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, are now wanted by the ministry. Minister Scrimgeour refuses to tell the public just what they have done, but it is our personal belief here at the Prophet that the trio must have done something so terrible he cannot bear to speak of it.
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"Just…calm down Ron. We need to think about this as rationally as possible," Hermione said slowly as they stalked about Grimmauld Place. Well, more stomped in Ron's case.
The redhead refused to be sedated, all of his bottled up rage since the Headmaster's death growing vines up his throat. "FUCK RATIONAL! We're wanted. This is – is unbelievable!"
Harry quieted him with a simple raise of his hand, green eyes alive and alert. "Sshh. Did you guys hear that?" He whispered.
Something similar to a bang rang our in the narrow hallway.
Hermione's brows furrowed as Ron rook her hand, following Harry down a dark stairway on their lightest feet. At the end of the steps they found a door, left partially open, leading to a Potions lab.
The-boy-who-lived set his jaw in place, forming fists with his hands. There was Snape, brewing a potion in plain sight. But then, Harry doubted he thought anyone else still had access to Sirius' old house. The Order hadn't met since the end of sixth year, so everyone had rather conveniently 'forgotten' where Grimmauld Place was.
Harry cleared his throat loudly, drawing his former professor's attention almost instantly. Snape jumped, turning around and letting his black eyes bore into the trio standing in the doorway, taking in Ron's seething and the calm look across Harry's face.
"Potter…" He said with a narrow expression.
But Harry was ready this time; he outstretched a leg and began to tap his foot impatiently. "Why don't you tell me why you're in my house, sir? Why have you been included in the Fidelius?"
This seemed to startle the older man out of his reveries. He sneered. "It may be beyond your comprehension, Potter but I am, in fact, still a spy. Dumbledore would have died either –"
"I already know that. Why?" Potter commanded, his teeth bared.
"Dumbledore left me access so I could continue to help discover the remaining horcruxes." Snape said, irritated.
The bespectacled boy lifted his head thoughtfully. "You hadn't thought I would show up at my own house at anytime?"
"Well, hardly. Do you think I'd be here otherwise?" He snorted. "Not likely."
Hermione stepped forward, interrupting the staring contest between the two. "Many witches and wizards alike will come to realize we are going to war. The Ministry has proved itself incompetent numerous times, and I doubt people are going to turn to them for help. It is a known fact that Professor Dumbledore is gone. People are going to begin to recognize Harry as their future leader. Harry is leading his own side, professor, and he doesn't have to know a thing about politics to do it.
"If you wish to be a part of it – and please, Harry knew you weren't a Death Eater all along, he was just a teenage boy dealing with the sudden loss of a parental figure – then, I suggest you start learning to be civil. This is our leader, whether you like it or not."
The other three people in the room stared at her openly. She received a surprised smile from Harry and a nod of agreement from Ron.
Finally, Snape lowered his head accordingly, "You're right, Granger. I had just figured Potter was still out for revenge." Ron's facial features twisted, "There are a lot of things you don't know about Harry," he said, just as Harry walked over to the steaming potion.
"Did he give you any other clues as to where we might find them?" He asked quietly.
"No." Snape replied. "But I've been doing some research on my own. Hopefully, our combined information will suffice for now."
Still pouring over the unknown potion Harry spoke again, "We'll have to look at every possibility, especially concerning R.A.B. He or she has at least one of the horcruxes that we know of." Agreement went unspoken in the small lab.
"I believe we may have to check many places that may seem impossible." Snape said, solidly.
"Especially considering the Ministry has deemed us dark and dangerous." Harry snarled. Ron began to seethe again.
"What?" Snape demanded, his brow furrowing further.
"Scrimgeour." Ron replied. "He's under Imperius, we think. They're screwing themselves over." The potions master looked ready to crush something with his hands. "Nevermind them. How are we supposed to get into places in the ministry to look for these? Like, say the Department of Mysteries?"
A moment of silence passed before Hermione and Ron began to converse quickly, trying to think of their options. "Wait," Harry said. He was staring at a wall with narrowed eyes. "That's it. I have a possibility."
Everyone looked to him.
"The veil." His voice rose. "We can throw the horcruxes through the veil to destroy them." Surprise washed over Snape, Ron and Hermione's faces.
"That's great, Harry! Why didn't I think of that as an option?" The bushy-haired girl gushed. Snape was frowning and looking past her. He turned to Harry and gave him a strange look. "That was surprisingly intelligent, Potter. Let's keep it in mind."
Harry felt his mouth twitch into a small smile.
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Ginny Weasley had a plan.
She wanted her Harry. He wasn't there – the Ministry wanted him almost as much as she did. She bet anything he was with Ron and Hermione in a safe house. Like, Grimmauld Place. So, she'd find him. She left without thinking of her mother or the recent attacks or the fact that she didn't know where she was going.
She wanted her Harry. Harry belonged to her, Harry – she heard a noise in the distance. Screaming. Ginny panicked and ran as if an acromantula was behind her. She stopped as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and she tried to see who had hit her but it all went black.
