Chapter 3: Evaluation

Harry sat very still in the interrogation room, staring blankly into space. He kept replaying that awful moment in his mind's eye, horribly aware of each drop of blood, and the look of horrified surprise on his victim's face. The shock had rendered him almost catatonic; he had barely noticed the Aurors arriving to clear up the scene, two of them leading him away to question him. He still wasn't quite sure where he stood in that regard actually. He had answered all their questions, explaining what had happened as best he could, and then they had left, leaving him locked up here. But they hadn't handcuffed him, or even cautioned him. He had rather got the impression that they didn't know what to do with him.

He supposed he ought to be more worried about this, but he was too busy wallowing in his own guilt to think about legal repercussions. He couldn't quite believe that he had killed someone.

"Will you stop whinging about it? You want to kill Sirius don't you – just think of it as practice!"

"How can you – " Harry began, outraged.

"Don't talk out loud you fool! They're probably listening in!"

Harry paused, took a breath, and carried on, thinking what he wanted to say rather than vocalising it. "How can you say that? Sirius tried to kill me, he betrayed my parents, he tried to kill Remus – Merlin only knows what else he's done!"

"And what do you think that thug you killed had done, or would do in the future? They're working for Voldemort now, or had you forgotten?"

"Don't remind me…"

"Well then. It's not like you killed an innocent Harry, and he didn't have a problem with attacking you did he? Or Dudley for that matter. Would you rather that Knight and Dudley switched places?"

"Of course not! I'd do anything to protect him, you should know that."

"Well then, what's the problem?"

Harry paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. "I want to learn how to fight, not to kill. That man shouldn't be dead, he should have been arrested, put on trial. I'm just a kid Titus!"

"True. And yeah, maybe it would have been better if he'd survived and been arrested. But Voldemort is back Harry, and he's going to be coming after you – even if it's only to satisfy his pride. You're going to have to kill, and the sooner you accept that the better off you'll be."

Harry pondered this in silence. Titus did have a point, however unpleasant it was. But that didn't change the fact that he didn't want to be a killer. He never wanted to feel like this again. But then what about Sirius? If he wasn't killed, he would go to Azkaban – the Wizarding community had no death penalty, not anymore at least. But could Harry be satisfied with seeing his godfather in a cell? Rosier was living proof that Azkaban didn't necessarily have to be a breaking experience; he had barely changed through his imprisonment there, and it could hardly get any worse. Was that good enough for Sirius, given everything he had done to Harry and his family and friends? Harry didn't think so, but could no longer state calmly that he would kill Sirius. The idea that someone else could do it was not to be considered. No-one else had the right.

His musings were interrupted by the door opening. A young woman walked in. She looked vaguely familiar, as if someone he had met had changed. Her hair was shockingly pink, and her eyes glittered with humour.

"Wotcha! Good to see you again Harry me lad – although I've got to say, I wouldn't have laid down money on it being like this!"

Harry stared at her, befuddled, and then it clicked.

"Tonks, right?"

She affected a wounded expression, placing her hand over her heart.

"You don't remember me? How can you say that – I pride myself on my er… individuality?"

Harry's lips twitched in an involuntary smile. "Sorry, but you weren't quite as lively the last time I saw you."

"Ah, true. I was in uniform wasn't I? Ok then, I'll let you off." Tonks flung herself into a seat, rocking back and perching her legs on the tabletop in front of Harry. She grinned brightly at him. "So, long time no see – plenty to catch up on! How've you been?"

Harry stared at her blankly. "School. Quidditch. People trying to kill me on a regular basis, including your cousin. You know, pretty standard stuff."

Her gaze softened, becoming more sympathetic. "Yeah… Must've been a bitch. How you coping with that?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't think it would be a good idea to tell an Auror that he was rather set on killing Sirius, however understanding and friendly she might be. "I'm dealing with it. More angry than anything else I guess. And I've got more important things to worry about at the moment."

Tonks cocked her head to the side, her curiosity evident. "What do you mean?"

"Erm… I just killed someone?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about that. Self-defence. Scrimgeour's going to take an official statement for the records, then it'll all be over."

"What?" Harry breathed, incredulously.

"Scrimgeour, head of the Aurors. Nice bloke, little strict, but – "

"No, I mean nothings going to happen to me? It's just going to be swept away? Why?"

"Self-defence Harry, like I said. No-one blames you – hell, I think Scrimgeour's actually proud of you. That's an achievement in itself you know, he's a hard guy to please." Tonks looked puzzled, as if she didn't quite understand Harry's problem. "I'd have thought you'd be pleased."

Harry shook his head. "I killed someone Tonks – surely something ought to happen to me?"

Her expression cleared as understanding dawned. "Harry, I know you must feel awful right now – but you did the best you could. It might not have been the right thing, but you can't predict what's going to happen. You just have to do what you can and hope for the best. You saved your cousin. You survived. All in all, you did pretty well kiddo."

Harry looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes. An awkward silence fell over the room.


Peter and Scrimgeour watched Harry and Tonks through the charmed mirror. Scrimgeour had found the conversation rather interesting, not to mention pleasing. For Peter, it had just made him want to go and envelop Harry in a hug, a feeling he did not often experience. Peter was not the emotional type. Scrimgeour turned to him.

"You're sure it was an accident then? I mean, I believe the statement, but I value your opinion as well Pettigrew…"

Peter nodded decisively. "Harry's not a killer. He hasn't got that instinct. He might kill, if forced to by circumstances. But he'll never enjoy it, and he'll always look for another way. Well, maybe not with Voldemort. Or Sirius," he added as an afterthought.

Scrimgeour grunted. "You believe the rumours then? You really think he's coming back?"

Peter nodded, grimfaced. "How can you not? Rosier escaping, Sirius revealing his true colours, last night – hardly coincidence. The Knights would never have had that kind of courage a year ago! They know that we'll be fighting again soon, count on it. And Dumbledore's picked up a thing or two."

Scrimgeour scowled at the mention of the Headmaster. "Wish he'd share it with us, instead of sending his own little gang off to investigate."

"I'd have gone anyway – it's not the Aurors job to protect Harry."

"It's not yours either."

"Yes it is." Peter took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His eyes were fixed on Harry, unblinking. "I refused to be their Secret Keeper; I thought I'd be too much of a target because of the people I'd assassinated – thought I'd just be a risk. If I hadn't, James and Lily might be here today. Sirius might have been caught earlier. I've learnt the hard way about responsibility Rufus."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Peter shrugged. "Not many people do. I'm not sure even Sirius knew that he was second choice. They were too worried about offending him" he said, a sardonic grin flitting across his lips.

"I'd have thought he'd be first choice anyway; no offense, but James was always closer to him than you."

"I think they wanted me to stop being an assassin; if I was in hiding, I couldn't go around killing people. Besides, I was considered a little less excitable than Sirius – they felt they could rely on me to take being cooped up in a calm fashion."

"Shows how much they knew; Black must be the calmest person I've ever met to pull that one off."

Peter nodded, absently. "Was Tonks right? Is he going to be punished?"

"No, don't worry about that. Quite apart from anything else, who cares about some dead terrorist wannabe? His family might, but they aren't going to admit that their darling boy was mixed up with the Knights, and they can't exactly claim he wasn't. Add politics into the mix, and he'll be just fine."

Peter smiled in satisfaction, and moved towards the door. "Thanks Rufus. Good to know some politicians are good for something."

"Happy to help – kid deserves a break. I'll have one final word with him, then you can take him home."


Tonks broke off as the door opened, and a severe looking man walked in. He was tall and imposing, with grey-flecked hair and blazing eyes, and although he walked with a limp, there was no discernable weakness in him. Harry thought he looked rather like a lion. He jerked his head, and Tonks leapt out of her seat, winking at Harry as she hurried from the room. The man eased himself into the chair she had vacated, and leant back, examining Harry leisurely. He had a piercing gaze, and Harry felt most uncomfortable under it. Eventually, he reached his hand out to Harry, looking almost friendly.

"Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you – my name is Rufus Scrimgeour, I'm head of the Aurors."

Harry shook the proffered hand warily, unsure what was coming. Scrimgeour smiled at him, and flicked through his notes quickly.

"So, how are you feeling? Never easy is it?"

Harry shook his head, remaining silent. He wasn't going to talk until he had a better idea of where it was all going. Scrimgeour shrugged, and sighed. He dropped the notes onto the table, and leaned back.

"Don't look so gloomy, nothing's going to happen to you, for various reasons. We don't prosecute people for self-defence, that would be ridiculous. Although a little more care in future would be appreciated, alright?"

His wry chuckle at his last statement managed to drag a brief smile out of Harry, reluctantly.

"That's better! Now then, let's just go over it one last time, and then you can go, alright? I'm sure your family and friends are getting a little worried, so I'll try not to keep you too long."

So Harry went over it again, carefully listing every fact that he thought relevant, in a flat monotone. Scrimgeour listened in silence, nodding occasionally and taking quick notes. Harry's voice broke when describing the death of the Knight, and he looked away, unable to meet the Auror's eyes. He paused for a moment, collecting himself, before finishing his story as quickly as possible. When he had finished, Scrimgeour stood up, beckoning Harry to follow him. As they moved, Harry spoke up.

"Sir… It feels, I dunno, it feels wrong that I'm not going to get punished. I killed him!"

Scrimgeour turned to face him, a concerned expression on his face. "Tell you what Harry. If you can think up anything I can do to you that will make you feel worse, that will punish you more than you're already doing yourself, you let me know, ok?"

Harry turned away, unable to respond. Scrimgeour put his hand on Harry's back, guiding him gently through the door, to where Peter was waiting. Harry acknowledged his presence with a small smile, and Peter pulled him into a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around him, and Peter looked over his head, his eyes full of gratitude to Scrimgeour. The Auror nodded, and walked away quietly.