Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I was J.K. Rowling, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction-I'd be contemplating an eighth book ;). But I suppose seven books are better than nothing, and really, I thought they were quite good.
Parings: RW/HG, HP/GW, JP/LE, and RL/NT
Warnings: violence, AU, fluff, mentions of child abuse…
Chapter two
Harry stepped out of the floo, brushing the soot from his clothes absent-mindedly. He followed Kingsley to a small office that had a sign on the door that read
"Kingsley Shacklebult-Head auror".
The office was a bit cluttered; papers were strewn over Kingsley's desk and thick folders covered buldging file cabinets.
"Have a seat, Mr Potter." Kingsley pointed to a slightly warn out armchair, slipping into auror mode.
Harry sat shakily into the indicated chair.
"Ok," Kingsley began, pulling out a self-inking quill and some parchment. "Tell me exactly what happened."
So Harry told the auror about what he had seen.
"I was looking for Remus because he didn't come to breakfast and I was worried about him because it was the full moon yesterday. I looked all through the house and I went into Sirius's room-No one uses that room, we just go in there to think sometimes…I feel so stupid that I didn't look in there sooner…Anyways, when I got there, I saw that man-" Harry spat the word out like it was a nasty bug-"Standing over Remus with a knife…"
As he spoke, the quill moved rapidly across the parchment-Kingsley was copying everything almost word for word. When he had finished, Kingsley shook his head disbelievingly.
"His own sun…"
Harry nodded. "What's going to happen to him-Remus's so called father?" he asked.
"He'll have to go into questioning, and if what you told me is true he'll be put into Azkaban." Kingsley replied.
"For how long?" Harry asked.
"Probably for about 15 years or so."
Harry grimaced. In his opinion, 15 years was too short-that man had hurt Moony after all-but it was better than nothing. He stood.
"Am I free to go? I want to get back to Remus." He asked Kingsley who was writing on another scrap of parchment.
"Go on," He replied. He looked up. "Tell me how he is later on, if you can."
"Yeah-sure. I will. Thanks for coming when you did-I probably would've killed that…thing."
Kingsley chuckled darkly.
"Yeah well...I would've helped you if I wasn't an auror. I reckon I would've gotten away with it if I said it was in self defense."
Harry laughed.
"Thanks again, Kingsley." Harry shook Kingsley's hand and walked out of the office. He knew his way around the ministry enough-he had to come at least three times a year to Kingsley's office.
After Voldemort's defeat, many of his followers had tried to hurt-or in some cases kill-Harry to avenge their master's death. The death eaters rarely succeeded-and if they did Harry had come out with several cuts and scrapes-and once a broken leg and arm-but Harry had incapacitated each one of them and sent them to Kingsley's office with a portkey with a ribbon tied to each death muncher. Thankfully, no one who Harry was to close to had died in the second war-injured, yes, but not dead.
Ron had to use a wheelchair for about a year; he was in Gryffyndor tower helping a stray second year escape when the roof had collapsed, and Ron's legs were trapped under the weight of all that stone.
Hermione had been temporarily blinded. She was dueling Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix had sent the levetation charm at the broken fragments of glass on the floor from the broken windows and directed them directly into Hermione's eyes. Luckily for Bellatrix, she was killed when she had nearly killed Ginny Weasley-in the presents of Harry and Molly. If she was still alive, Harry mused, she would've died a much, much more painful death when Hermione woke from the coma she was in after the battle.
Thankfully, she had only been out for about two weeks-Madam Pomfrey had predicted a month.
Harry came out of his musings when he reached the fireplace. He took a pinch of floo powder, threw it into the fire, and called "Number 12, grimmauld Place!" He disappeared in a rush of flames.
**…*..**…*..**…*..
Harry stumbled out of the floo and ran straight up to Sirius's old room. It was then that he remembered that they had left Patrick's body in there. Oh well, he thought hurriedly. I'll take care of that later. He burst into the room.
"Is he ok?" He panted. Madam Pomfrey straightened up from leaning over Remus and replied,
"He's in a coma. No, don't worry-" She said hurriedly seeing Harry's horrified face; "He'll be fine. That knife had some silver coating the blade. I managed to stop the silver from flowing too much into his blood stream. He'll probably be out for at least two weeks."
Harry sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I don't know what I would've done if…" The nurse cut him off with a pat on the shoulder as she packed her potions away.
"It's alright, Harry. You know I would not have let that happen."
Harry smiled.
"Now I've fed him a potion that will keep food in his stomach while he's out. When he wakes up, contact me as soon as you can." She told him sternly as she began to walk out of the door.
"I will. Thanks again!" Harry called after her.
