Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is a marvellous sandbox that J.K. Rowling has graciously allowed us to play in. Nevertheless, it is her name along with those of Warner Bros and Scholastic Press that is engraved on the fence surrounding it, clearly marking the territory as theirs. Regardless of the fun I have shaping sandcastles using my imagination, I do not own Harry Potter.
0800-Rent-A-Hero
Chapter 4 – Press 1. to rent an avenging hero
"No!"
Harry awoke with a cry and sat up straight in bed, his skin pale and clammy, making the crisscross patches of scar tissue on his chest stand out in clear red lines. With a shaking hand he reached for the glasses on his bedside table.
A cocoon of sheets tangled his feet, restricting his range of motion and he let out a frustrated growl when the bedside table was further away than expected and his reach fell short by a foot. Cursing, he kicked his feet to force himself free from the blankets. Dreaming about Voldemort coming back to life and killing all of his friends had always made him grumpy and today was no exception.
The nightmare had been a frequent one since the war ended. Not having a psychopathic megalomaniac hell-bent on ending his life had been a momentous change and surprisingly hard to accept and get used to.
He'd driven the grieving Weasley family spare with his lack of sleep and resulting temper, especially when things with Ginny hadn't exactly worked themselves out. Only after Hermione had bodily dragged him out of the Burrow and informed him he would be staying with her parents had things gotten better. Partly because Dan and Emma Granger were bloody saints and not affected by his outbursts, but more so because they were good listeners and had been able to help him accept that Voldemort was dead and he was never coming back.
Cue trans-dimensional vortex in their living room.
Swiping a few beads of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand Harry wandered to the living room and sank down in a chair in front of the fireplace. Playing with his new wand he lightly and wordlessly summoned and banished the still-glowing embers, jerking them around and breathing life into the fire. It didn't take long for flames to crackle merrily in the gloom of early morning.
Mission accomplished, Harry hunched over and brooded.
The dream was familiar, with torture and death at the hand of Snakeface's wand, except that tonight his friends and family had stood by and watched. More, they had egged the bastard on, smiling maliciously all the while.
He did not have to live in the Divination tower to interpret that little detail.
Warily Harry looked around in the dark corners and the moving shadows to make sure Voldemort wouldn't come strolling in right this minute, dressed evil-chic and acting casual before suddenly bombarding him with curses. Really, it was about what he expected of his life thus far.
His gaze travelled over the bundle of creepy lethifold-like bedhangings he had ripped from the ceiling days ago and in a sudden bout of anger he snarled and swept his wand to banish the whole thing into the fire. Breathing heavily he watched the flames lick and catch, eventually engulfing them.
The victory against the crime against bedroom decorations everywhere made him feel a little better and he watched the foul thing burn with a small smirk on his face.
A hoot interrupted his gloating and Harry swept his head around, his body suddenly tense and alert for any kind of danger.
Sitting on the windowsill was a large tawny owl, its brown feathers speckled with white. Tied to one leg was a thick envelope bearing the crest of the Ministry of Magic.
Finally!
Harry jumped from his seat and raced towards the owl. With a bloodthirsty grin he untied the envelope and ripped apart the seal in his eagerness to get at the contents.
This is what he had been waiting for, why he had all but sequestered himself away in his tower the past two days. He'd see the blasted Order in Azkaban, exactly as they deserved.
As his eyes flew over the page his smile faltered.
Dear Mr. White,
In response to your missive of June 27th of this year Aurors Jones and Shacklebolt investigated your suspicion of the execution of a Dark Ritual at Hogwarts School for Whichcraft and Wizardry. The Auror Office is delighted to be able to lay to rest your concerns: no evidence was found of any Dark Arts activity.
Sincerely,
Gwyneth Throckmorton
Night Shift Secretary
Auror Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry's left eyelid twitched. He opened his mouth but the words seemed locked in his throat, the tense muscles in his neck keeping them from exploding out. Instead, the parchment spontaneously combusted in his hands and crumbled to ash on the carpet, leaving a dark stain.
Sharp twinges of his singed fingers finally broke through his composure and Harry spewed a litany of curses as he shook his hands to relieve some of the stinging.
Aurors Jones and Shacklebolt.
Sodding Order members had intercepted his owl. Not in time to prevent an Auror investigation but early enough to get themselves assigned to it and sweep it under the rug.
Harry paced from the open window, past the trap door in the floor to the shelves filled with crystal balls, many of which he had exploded and repaired the past few days and he resisted the urge to vent by doing so again.
There was more than one way to skin a kneazle. In this case he would just need a bigger knife; go over the traitorous Aurors' heads.
Who was the Head Auror, anyway? Surely interfering in an Auror investigation was a crime in itself, they were just digging their own graves here.
A quick perusal of an old newspaper made him wrinkle his nose. Scrimgeour was not exactly what he had in mind when thinking about the Aurors' boss reigning hell and damnation down on Dumbledore and his Order. Despite his lion-like appearance the man had proven to be a petty politician with no desire whatsoever to do the right thing unless it got him what he wanted.
No, he needed someone else. Someone honest. Someone who-
His eyes fell on another name, buried in the Daily Prophet's back pages and he stilled.
Madam Amelia Bones was still alive and Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.
He rubbed his hands together in glee. Excellent. Her reputation was solid, even if he had only learned that after she died back home when people lamented that she hadn't survived the first purge. If he could get her on his side she would send them all straight to Azkaban.
Speaking of... when had she been killed, anyway? If memory served, her death had been front-page news while he was still at Privet Drive that summer. Well, this summer now, blast all apparent time-travel to eternal dimension-hopping hell.
Still, if he could warn her in time that might buy him some goodwill with the woman. After all, one didn't just waltz into the DMLE and demand to speak to its head. Especially during wartime.
"Tilly!" he called loudly. Belatedly he realised that most people were still asleep while the sun had barely risen, but the elf popped in looking like it didn't bother him one whit.
"Master Harry is up early," he said with approval.
"Nightmare," Harry grunted. "Can I get an early breakfast?"
Tilly nodded and popped back out, returning minutes later with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and a single sausage.
While Harry ate the elf sniffed before scowling at the fireplace and snapping his fingers. An unpleasant odour Harry hadn't even noticed until now was replaced by a faint citrusy smell.
Huh. Note to self. Next time, burn lethifold bedhangings in Dumbledore's office.
He didn't comment out loud, however, but instead relished how his last few bites tasted better without a whiff of stench. When it was done he sat back with a satisfied sigh.
Now, how to best warn the woman...
Harry tapped his index finger against his bottom lip, deep in thought.
"Tilly, can you check if there is a pensieve in the Room of Hidden Things?" he asked suddenly.
Without a word Tilly disappeared. Harry made and discarded a few plans before the elf showed back up, sadly without a big stone bowl.
"Tilly is sorry," he said, head bowed and eyes downcast. "There is being no pensieve."
"That's all right. Can it make one for me though? If I really need it?"
Tilly perked up. "Oh yes, Master Harry. The Come and Go Room can make copies of anything in the castle. Master Headmaster Dumblydore is having pensieve so Come and Go Room can be making copies of it." He wilted. "But the copy can not be leaving the room."
"That's quite all right. It just means I have to get dressed first," Harry said quickly. He crouched down on one knee and put his hand on the green bony shoulder. "Thank you, Tilly. You've been a great help."
Bulbous eyes went wide and Tilly let out a sqeak before vanishing with a pop.
Harry rolled his eyes. Someday he would meet a well-adjusted house-elf.
Half an hour later saw Harry in the Room of Requirement. It was bare, barring a single sparsely populated bookcase to the side but Harry didn't spare it a single glance as he rushed to to the marble pedestal in the centre. On top of it sat a stone basin adorned with symbols and runes turning the simple bowl in a work of art. The shimmering liquid inside was lit up faintly by luminous whirling blue-grey clouds just below the surface.
He skidded to a halt just before touching the thing, reaching out his hand towards it before restraining himself.
Blood rushed to his face and he could feel the heat on his cheeks as he withdrew his arm and ran his hand through his hair. Reflexively he looked both ways to see if someone had caught that. How did one go about extracting a memory, anyway?
The presence of a bookcase was a big hint and Harry resignedly plodded towards it. He wanted action, like throwing the lot of them in prison, not reading stuffy books.
He almost set fire to the whole thing when he saw one of the books was on Occlumency but just barely managed to tone down his response to throwing the book across the room instead.
Fortunately there was a booklet on pensieves and their usage. Unfortunately using one turned out to not be quite as straightforward as Dumbledore had made it seem.
The headmaster had made it look easy and he had been right when it came to actually entering a memory, which didn't require more than touching the liquid. The rest, however, was quite complicated. Besides spells for retrieving a memory – depending on if it pertained to one's own mind or a hostile or willing other, with many tweaks depending on age of the memory – using the pensieve required a manual. Harry was very glad he flipped through the rest of the booklet otherwise he may never have figured out how to exit the pensieve again when he was done.
All in all, it took him until lunchtime before he felt confident enough to try.
That gave him time to think of a strategy though, and when he was finally ready to pull out copies of his memories he focussed on the summer after his Fifth year and specifically memories of him reading the Daily Prophet.
Retrieving a memory felt slippery and weird, a little like when Dudley had put long strands of grass in his nose when he was five and he had taken care pulling them out very, very slowly. He drew thick, sirupy, silvery strands from his temple, rotating his wand all the while so they pooled around it like a cocoon. When it was complete he flicked it towards the pensieve, muttering under his breath in faux Latin and watched the whole thing slide off and uncurl in the basin.
Harry dove into the pensieve headfirst and let himself fall until he once more stood in Dudley's hated second bedroom on Privet Drive. His fifteen year old self was lying despondently on the creaky bed, a newspaper lying discarded on the wooden floor.
Instead of a clear view of the hell-hole, though, it was decidedly rough around the edges.
Harry grumbled as he got to his knees near the paper and twisted his head this way and that to try and make out the details. Instinctively he tried to adjust the paper – smooth out crinkles, look at it from another angle – but his fingers passed right through, the paper dissolving into so much parchment-coloured smoke before slowly reforming into exactly what it had looked like before.
He sighed. Nothing was ever easy, it seemed. Fortunately he could make out the headline, proclaiming the death of the DMLE head. Reading the article was beyond him though, so he didn't have any details. Worse, he couldn't read the date, which was really what he went through all this trouble for.
However, back then, like a true and seasoned inmate he had counted the days of his imprisonment. A sheet of paper on the wall was partitioned into boxes, with a depressingly small number crossed off in red ink. Crude though it was, it served as a calendar in a pinch and Harry wiggled his wand to exit the pensieve, lost in thought.
Amelia Bones was going to be attacked soon, it seemed. And by telling her as much, he would have an in to speak to her.
He asked the room for a desk and writing implements and bit the end of the quill as he composed a note.
Dear Madam Bones,
Through a convoluted series of events, I have acquired information regarding an attack on your person by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Specifically, it pertains toa large attack on your family manor very early Tuesday morning that Voldemort himself will take part in.
Regardless of your opinion on the accuracy of my information I recommend taking precautions. Carry Floo powder and a portkey wherever you go. Ward and hide a room in the house to withstand almost anything. Dig a hole or even a tunnel. Anything, but being forced to fight and die.
Should this information prove to be accurate, I would be very interested in meeting with you. I can be reached at Hogwarts, where I have accepted the post of Divination Teacher for the next school year.
Make of that what you wish.
Yours sincerely,
Harry White
He his stomach rebel a little at playing the role of mysteriously omniscient Seer. Trelawney had done that and he had not an ounce of respect for the woman. Still, dimensional travel was just as outlandish an idea and he was not putting that in a letter that would quite likely be read by other people. He would confide in the woman if he had to, but not her underlings or anyone that intercepted owls.
He just hoped Madam Bones would prove to be the ally that he needed.
The next few days passed slowly. Harry actively avoided every other resident of the castle, though apart from the Headmaster he wasn't sure if there actually was anybody else that lived there during the summers. This theory was supported by his observation of Professor Sprout leaving the grounds with a trio of suitcases floating by her side.
As a result of his seclusion he didn't see or speak to another soul but Tilly, who had apparently appointed himself his personal elf in the castle. It came as a bit of a surprise actually, that he was being allowed such leeway by the Order. Of course, he had stated that he would never join Voldemort while connected to a lie detector so there was a tiny bit of trust there.
His wounds healed up and with help of a salve Madam Pomfrey had had delivered the scars had even faded a little, even if they were still obvious. Fortunately, besides their appearance, they didn't really bother him, nor did they impede his movements. He was no longer surprised by the new face in the mirror, even if he grieved for the loss of yet another connection to his parents.
Without anything else to do Harry spent a lot of time in the Room of Requirement going over his memories, especially those of reading the paper. He realised that they were his best bargaining chip, should he need one.
He knew of attacks that were going to happen and people that were going to get killed. He knew names and faces of Death Eaters. As head of the DMLE the woman would kill for that kind of intel.
He viciously ignored Hermione's voice in the back of his head chanting, "saving people thing," over and over. It was a bargaining chip. Nothing more.
Meticulously he had written down all he could discern from his blurry memories in a set of notes to include any and all deaths and injuries that could be prevented if things happened the same way. The hazy and faded memories had made things difficult though.
The pensieve booklet had suggested learning Occlumency as a way to strengthen the mind and clear up memories, but Harry had so far shied away from that. He realised that if he would truly be forced to come face to face with both Dumbledore and Snape on a regular basis one or both of them might try Legilimency at some point and his secrets would then be forfeit. However, the memories of Snape's attempts to literally pound the subject into his head were very vivid and he really didn't want to try something like that again.
All in all, he felt prepared but very nervous as he paced his rooms Tuesday morning as he waited for Tilly to deliver him a paper. Almost as soon as the little elf arrived he snatched the Daily Prophet out of his hands and devoured the headlines.
DMLE Head Amelia Bones attacked!
His heart beat loudly in his chest as he devoured the article and his hands were so clammy the paper darkened where he gripped it. Fortunately it only took a few sentences before he sighed in relief.
Madam Bones had indeed been attacked, but she had escaped without serious injury. One of the Aurors guarding her was in St. Mungo's, though. That hadn't happened the first time, as far as he knew.
Nevertheless Harry was grinning widely as he put the paper down. It had worked! The woman was alive! The DMLE was not turned over to a self-righteous arse but remained in the hands of a woman who could and would help him.
The grin turned even wider when a Ministry owl swooped in minutes later carrying an invitation.
"Madam Bones will see you now," the fair-haired assistant informed Harry in the small waiting room near the Auror offices. He stood up and nervously fiddled with the silver badge the visitors desk had supplied him with. He'd tried to say as little as possible and as such the badge simply read, 'meeting'.
His first impression of the Head of the DMLE was that she was both fierce and bloody stubborn. The fifty year old woman had a satisfied smirk on her face of someone who had gone into battle and emerged, if not victorious, than at least not worse than the other guy. The Prophet had understated her injuries, judging by how she winced and gripped her side when she got to her feet and held out her right arm to shake his hand before realising that it was bandaged and hastily withdrawing it.
"Very nice to meet you, Mr. White, and thank you for sending that letter. Being prepared likely saved my life and that of my guards."
Harry flushed and averted his gaze as he took a seat, as always uncomfortable with praise. "I'm glad you're all right. You are okay, right?" He gestured to her arm. "The Prophet barely mentioned your injuries."
Her smirk turned wider. "When an older woman lands a hit on a dangerous Dark Lord it's important to make it look like she didn't get off any worse than he did."
Harry gaped at her. "You actually got him?"
She grinned viciously. "Broke his arm and pierced his shoulder." She quickly sobered, though. "Of course he'll be healed up by now and angry as hell."
Harry shuddered. "Hopefully he'll take it out on his minions."
"We can always hope." She nodded briskly. "Now, in your letter you mentioned you wanted to speak with me and you'll understand if I have a great many questions myself."
Harry smiled wryly. "I will tell you how I knew what was going to happen, but before I do I'm going to ask for your discretion."
She stared at him. It made him feel very uncomfortable and he fidgeted in his seat but didn't change his mind. He would not be used as a research subject by the Ministry because she couldn't keep her trap shut.
"I will uphold the law, Mr. White, regardless of how often you save my life," she said finally. "You have my gratitude, but I'll not sweep any crimes under the rug."
"Oh no, that's not what I meant," he said hastily. "I'm reporting others for their actions, however, I'd like it if you could not shout the details of my... situation from the rooftops."
She raised a single eyebrow. "Provided the law is on your side that seems reasonable."
Harry slumped in relief. "Thank you."
He took a deep breath and started his story. "A little over two weeks ago Trelawney outed that prophecy to the Prophet and Dumbledore panicked. Somehow, he got his hands on a ritual to summon someone from another dimension and he and his entire Order decided to go fishing between worlds." He growled and his eyes flashed. "I was eating dinner when a vortex appeared almost killing everyone there, including my one year old godson."
Harry recounted waking up with scars all over his body and the meeting with the Order after.
"I want them arrested for kidnapping, torture and anything else you can throw at them," he snarled, breathing heavily. "I want to bleed them dry of any gold they have until they are nothing but paupers and then I want the lot of them in Azkaban in the deepest dankest hole in that pit."
Madam Bones watched him rant and rave with no reaction barring the tightening of her lips into a white line. When he finished she busied herself with polishing the monocle that hung from a thin gold chain from her lapel.
"I see," she murmured. "Unique though your case is, crime is typically the purview of the Auror Office..." She trailed off as she seemed to come to a realisation. "Ah. Some of Dumbledore's lot work there, I imagine."
Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Jones and Shacklebolt intercepted my owl or barged in on the investigation and concluded that there was 'no evidence of any crime'." He mimed making quotes with his fingers.
"Bastards," he spat before showing a bloodthirsty grin at his own resourcefulness. "So I went over their heads."
"I see," she said again, before straightening. "Unfortunately I am unsure as to the specific legalities surrounding your case. I have never handled a case with dimensional travel and I don't know what laws apply specifically."
Harry scowled as he tightly gripped the edge of his seat with both hands. "Why does it matter? Kidnapping is kidnapping no matter where I lived before. They took me from my home in a way that prevents me from going back. Just arrest the lot of them already."
She huffed impatiently. "Unless they argue that you weren't born on this world and thus you aren't a wizard or even human and as such our laws don't apply to you." She shrugged. "It's what I would argue as defence counsel and so far I can't think of an appropriate counter."
Harry shot to his feet so fast his chair scooted backwards and crashed against the wall. "They're going to get away with this? You're just going to-"
"Sit. Down," Madam Bones bit out, glaring at him.
Despite his anger Harry instinctively cowered a little before her and turned away to upright his chair again. Merlin but the woman was frightening when she was riled.
"I will not let them do anything," she said icily. "Their actions are morally reprehensible and for that I will throw the book at them. However, I must work within the bounds of the law. On top of that, the Minister may well override a shoddy trial depending on who bribed him this day of the week and Dumbledore is quite capable of manoeuvring the Wizengamot on his own."
Harry deflated and slumped in his chair. "How then?"
"Firstly, I will research dimensional travel to see if there is a precedent or if there are laws that I'm simply not familiar with. However, even if there aren't, there are many ways to approach a problem." She held up a finger when he was about to interrupt. "For instance, a large category of rituals are banned. Do you know which one they used, what sacrifices they made, details?"
Harry shook his head. "Whatever their source, there were no books in Hogwarts with specifics and when I arrived I was not in any condition to observe what they were doing."
She pursed her lips. "Their sources will be well hidden by now, I'm sure. Well, according to Poppy Pomfrey your scarring was caused by Dark magic, so we can fine them for that, at least."
Harry waited for her to continue and eyed her incredulously when she didn't. "Fine them? Fine them!?" he yelled. "That's not good enough!"
Madam Bones rolled her eyes and slammed fist down on the desk with a crash. Immediately shackles grew from his chair and restrained him.
Harry bucked wildly and glared venomously at the woman on the other side of the desk.
"Silencio!" she incanted with an exaggerated movement like she was schooling a five year old.
"I have not the patience to deal with your tantrum, Mr. White. I was attacked by the Dark Lord himself this morning and frankly I have bigger problems. Speaking of which, I think it's my turn to get some questions answered."
She got to her feet and leant over her desk as she glared him down at him with cold blue eyes. "Are you going to behave."
Mulishly, Harry nodded, though he scowled fiercely.
Wordlessly she released him and cancelled the Silencing Charm before sitting down. Harry rolled his shoulders, which he had strained while trying to escape the chains. He didn't look up or meet her eyes.
"Now, from your story I take it that my counterpart was attacked on your world on this day, which is how you knew about the one here?" she prodded in a calm voice like nothing at all had happened.
"Yes," he grunted, still angry at being dismissed like an unruly child. "You died."
"Thank you for saving my life then." She sounded genuinely grateful and Harry's head shot up to look at her once more. He searched her eyes, but there was no sign of deception there and he deflated as his anger drained away until his temper merely simmered.
"You're welcome," he muttered.
"Do you know of any other such attacks?"
Hastily he nodded. "Yeah. I made a list."
His hand disappeared in his robe and she briefly tensed but relaxed when it emerged holding two sheafs of parchment. He slid the first across the desk.
"This is a list of attacks that I remember for the coming months. People, places, dates. I can't be sure that everything will happen the same way here as it did back home, but many of them might."
"Extraordinary," she breathed as she looked it over. "Despite the price you paid, you may be saving many lives through your actions, Mr. White."
Harry looked at his shoes. "Yeah, well, all things considered I would rather be back home."
She gave a small smile. "I understand, but your actions are nonetheless commendable."
Harry fidgeted and she gestured to parchment he still held. "What's that one, then?"
The scowl on Harry's face grew into a smirk as he placed the second piece of parchment on the desk. "You'll possibly be even more impressed with this one."
She blinked and opened it slowly before giving him a piercing look. "Is this what I think it is?"
His smirk turned into a satisfied grin. "A list of every known Death Eater on my world."
She stared at the piece of parchment with a blank look and shifted her gaze to look at him instead before her shoulders slumped and she released the parchment to flutter down onto the desk.
"I can't use this," she whispered.
"What?" he asked incredulously, "Why not?"
She sighed and slumped back into her chair. "Evidence from another dimension is hardly admissible in court."
Harry blinked. "Screw the court!" He gestured wildly. "These are murderers and terrorists. Just arrest them, pump them full of Veritaserum and toss them in Azkaban."
"I will not 'screw the court'," she said, throwing him a withering look. Belatedly he realised that he was talking to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"You know what I mean," he sputtered, "They're Death Eaters!"
She shook her head. "Like you said, just because on your world someone named Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater is not evidence that someone named Lucius Malfoy here is too. After all, your home world would not be a different dimension if everything there was the same as it is here. By its very definition, dimensional evidence cannot be used."
"But," he sputtered, "those are details. That's what Veritaserum is for, isn't it? If you do pick up someone who turns out to be innocent you'll know and you can just let them go!"
"Unfortunately I can't authorise the use of Veritaserum without leave from the courts, which they will not grant based on your word alone."
Harry stared at her open mouthed.
This could not be happening. Was she really using the law to justify notarresting Death Eaters?
"So that's it then?" He sneered at the woman. "The infamous Amelia Bones, straightest arrow in the Ministry, champion of law and order, is going to sit back and do nothing. You call Dumbledore's flunkies 'morally reprehensible' but won't arrest them and now you won't even go after Voldemort's?" He threw up his hands in disgust. "Do you even care how many innocent people are going to die?"
Her ice cold glare could have withered plants at a hundred paces. "Calm yourself or you can cool your heels in a holding cell for a few days."
Harry clenched his jaw in an effort from restraining his tongue. He was just so bloody frustrated with everyone in this world. Unfortunately Madam Bones was not quite done.
"Before you accuse me of risking innocent people, do you even understand the consequences of your own accusations?"
"What?" he asked belligerently. "I'm asking you to put criminals in jail. Isn't that your job?"
"It is," she hissed, "but you are also asking to set the Ministry against one of its most effective allies in a war that is just now starting." She glared him down and raised her voice. "On top of that, from what I know Order members are just everyday people banding together in an effort to help their fellow witches and wizards. Their identities are secret for a reason. Accusing them as you want to will put them right on top of You-Know-Who's hit list, including their innocent families and friends!"
She was breathing heavily by the end of her rant, growling like an angry dragon a hair away from frying its next meal.
"Are you quite ready to sacrifice innocent lives to satisfy your vendetta?" she asked icily.
Harry's hands balled into fists at her accusation, but the anger that had pooled in his gut for days now felt like it was suddenly doused in ice water.
Sacrifice.
Was that what he was doing?
He was angry, yes; he had every right to be. But there was a line he had never and would never cross and that one word made him wonder if he was about to.
Sacrifice.
Sod the Order and Voldemort and the Ministry all to eternal damnation, but he couldn't.
He slumped in his chair in defeat and hid his head in his hands
"So what would you have me do?" he asked, suddenly so very tired. "Am I to let them just go free, for the greater good?"
"Of course not," she said, disgusted and he perked up a little. "You did what you should have and alerted the Aurors. Doing so through me is unconventional, but acceptable in this case. If they have broken the law then we'll throw the book at them. That is how the system works."
Harry frowned. "But you just said-"
"When we do so, however," she interrupted, "is critical in this instance. With You-Know-Who terrorising the country once more we have bigger fish to fry."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, regaining her equilibrium. "I would propose that we postpone the pursuit of legal action until the Dark Lord and his followers are captured or killed. Would that be acceptable to you?"
Harry exhaled heavily. Part of him wanted the Order to burn in the fiery pits of hell, but he couldn't deny that he wanted Voldemort and his flunkies to do the same. Did it really matter which set preceded the other?
"Your word," he said softly as he held her eyes. "I want your world that you'll not let this be swept under the rug if I agree to hold off for now."
She nodded solemnly. "You have it."
Harry collapsed in his chair, his head reeling with all the sodding changes in his life. "So what do I do now," he asked, completely at a loss.
Madam Bones shrugged. "I'll do some quick research about your rights and circumstances, but I advise you to be careful and lay low while I do so."
Wordlessly Harry gestured for her to continue.
"Like I said, an argument could be made that you are not a conventional human, or at least don't have the rights of one. Are you familiar with laws pertaining to beings and creatures?"
"Only that they're prejudiced," he muttered as he let his head loll back, already feeling where this was going.
"That is one way to describe them," she allowed. "It would be best if you did not fall afoul of them."
"Fantastic," he muttered.
For a few minutes the pair of them sat in silence, each pondering the boatload of information they had just received.
Harry was the first to break it. "What about the little stuff? For example, I have an Apparition Licence back home."
"Well that one isn't valid here," she said apologetically. "You'll have to apply for a new one. Which you can't because you're not actually a British citizen."
He let out a thouroughly frustrated whine. "What if I break the law? Aren't you supposed to contact my home country in such a case? Pretty tough when I have none available."
She rolled her eyes at his petulant behaviour. "You would make a horrible barrister. As a counterargument I could posit that the Veil is a valid method of extradition in your case."
Harry exhaled loudly. "So presumably I have no legal rights, no resources and no home."
"I'll try to find exactly what laws apply to you," she said kindly. "If you're staying here then you'll need at least British citizenship, though I'll have to look up how to apply for it as you're a special case. In return, however, if you remember anything else I want you to let me know immediately."
She smirked. "The Aurors may be understaffed and underfunded but with advance notice of attacks we can make what little we have count."
Harry gave a brisk nod. He was probably going to do that anyway. It was a relief, actually, to be able to hand off responsibility of his knowledge to the woman. A measure of revenge for all those killed on his own world, as it were.
For a moment he considered spilling the Horcrux secret. Doing so would absolve him of any and all responsibility, but he was reluctant. It was clear Madam Bones would follow the letter of the law and probably involve others. And nothing ever stayed secret in the Ministry.
While he didn't want to fight Voldemort again and had no plans to do so, he didn't feel like helping the blighter either. Giving him advance notice and the opportunity to hide his soul pieces in different places would do exactly that.
When Harry didn't offer any more information Madam Bones stood, once more wincing and gripping her side. "Either way, I thank you for helping save my life, and possibly a whole host of others."
Recognising the dismissal Harry nodded to her and made to leave. Getting the Order their just desserts was more complicated than it first appeared. But, it would seem he did finally make an ally in this world.
Madam Bones's owl found him two days later in his rooms.
Dear Mr. White,
From what I have been able to find out there do exist protocols regarding dimensional travellers. By law you are required to present yourself to the Department of Mysteries. I recommend you do so as soon as humanly possible.
Yours sincerely,
Amelia Bones
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,
Ministry of Magic
Harry scratched his head. That was decidedly unhelpful. While he had chosen to reveal himself to Madam Bones, he had done so for a multitude of reasons, one of which was that he was somewhat certain where her loyalties lay.
On the other hand, contacting the Department of Mysteries like she suggested would see him trusting not a single person but an entire Department in a building riddled with Voldemort's spies. Worse, he could not even vet the people that worked there, because they were Unspeakables and as such completely anonymous. The only name he did know was Rookwood, and that was because the man was fired from the Unspeakables upon his incarceration in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. Hardly a ringing endorsement.
There were just too many negatives to following this law Madam Bones had unearthed that Harry decided to live with the consequences of being an illegal alien for the moment.
A second ministry owl entered through the open window and Harry resignedly watched it land.
Why did he even think he would get the chance of deciding for himself?
Sure enough, the crest marked it as coming from the Department of Mysteries.
Dear Mr. White,
As an unregistered dimensional traveller you are required to present yourself to the Department of Mysteries within two days time for study and registration. This letter will serve as verification of your summons.
Yours sincerely,
Unspeakable Brown
Department of Mysteries,
Ministry of Magic
A snarl ripped from his throat.
There went his anonymity. Bloody Bones.
He sprang to his feet and jumped down the trap door, angrily striding through the corridors until he arrived at the Room of Requirement. Furiously he started pacing, focussing on his absolute need to send a Howler.
A/N: Harry takes his first actions with regards to the war that is just beginning, even if only from a distance. And thus is the can-solve-any-ministry-problem Amelia Bones cliché subverted. Nice lady, but a little too shackled to impractical principles to be of much use.
Poor Harry. I'm really not very nice to him. Snigger.
Still, I hope I have allayed some worries that Harry will just let everyone walk over him.
Recommendation of the week: World in Pieces by Lomonaaeren. I don't think I've used any of it in this story, but it's a marvellous dimension travel tale all on its own.
Thank you for your thoughts.
-brainthief