Dark Mirror Chapter 4-Photographs, a harry potter fanfic

Dark Mirror X

Photographs

"I put your picture away, sat down and cried today."-©Kid Rock

"Facial hair?" Ron wondered, "Harry, you look ridiculous. Shave the rest off."

"I think I like it," Harry replied, studying his short whiskers in the bathroom mirror, "Makes me look older."

"Makes you look like a creeper," Seamus shuddered.

"A goatee just isn't you," Neville agreed.

"It'll grow on you," Dean shrugged.

"So does a fungus," Ron snorted.

"HARRY?!" A woman's voice shouted down the corridor.

"I hate it, that they can get in here!" Neville sighed, "Sounds like Ginny?"

About then, Harry remembered that he'd left baby Teddy in her care that night. They hurriedly dressed and returned to their dormitory.

"Forget something?" Ginny said in a dangerous tone, Teddy in her arms, standing there with Hermione.

"I didn't want to wake you, I was late," Harry offered lamely.

"Just where did you go?" Hermione asked.

"I, erm, disposed of his corpse," Harry answered. They all gaped at him. "I had to make sure there was nothing left, in case any rogue Death Eaters came sniffing around. That, and Nagini. It didn't concern you lot, OK? It was too dangerous to keep them here, or even bury them somewhere. So I got rid of them, all right?"

"How?" Hermione pressed him.

"Incinerated," Harry said truthfully, leaving out the rest.

Hermione seemed to be thinking about something. "Probably a good idea. I'd hate to think what might happen if some lunatic had gotten a hold of part of that snake and tried to use a scale in a potion, or a wand core! You see, the Sanskrit word 'naga', meaning snake..."

"Oh, spare us," Ron interrupted her.

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry apologized, taking the baby from her. Teddy cooed at him, his hair turning from red to black. "I didn't want to wake you all."

"It's all right," Ginny kissed his cheek. "We'd have both been cranky if you had! So what are we doing today? Teddy's got no shortage of potential babysitters, you know."

"Hope Hagrid ain't one of 'em," Ron mumbled to Harry.

"You lot go ahead," Harry sighed, sitting down on his bed. "I don't much feel like breakfast, or facing everyone out there who's trying to help with repairs."

"You'll probably want this, then," Neville said, as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak to him. "I wouldn't leave that hanging on the bedpost, you know!" He smiled, as they all headed for the door.

"Just give him some time to sort it all out," Harry could Hermione saying as they left.

Ginny was the last to go. She turned back to Harry, just peeking in the door. "You're sure you're all right?"

Harry nodded. "Just a bit rattled from last night's dirty work," he assured her.

Ginny checked the clock. "You know, we could get in a quick snog before breakfast, and the post owls arrive," she hinted.

"We could, you know!" Harry smiled, as she came back in and shut the door.

They were happily snogging away when a loud POP! frightened the both of them so badly that they nearly fell off the bed!

"Oh, Kreacher is sorry, sir," the blushing old Elf apologized, "Kreacher can comes back later!"

"Well," Ginny gasped, straightening her clothing and giving her hair a quick check. "I suppose I'd better head on down!"

"What is it, Kreacher?" Harry asked with a wry expression.

Kreacher handed him an envelope. "Miss Winky and the kitchen Elveses says some boy is leaving this for Harry Potter. Kreacher has checked it, sir, and it's safe. No curses!"

"It's very heavy for such a small envelope?" Harry wondered.

"Expansion Charm, we guesses," Kreacher shrugged. "Is Mas...Harry needing anything elses?"

"No, thank you. Why don't you go and see where they went with Teddy?" Harry suggested. Kreacher looked delighted and vanished.

Harry sat back down on his bed, staring at the wax seal on the envelope. The emblem of three interlocking C's was familiar, and the envelope could only have come from one person: Colin Creevey.

What was his middle name? Harry wondered.

There was a bit of parchment sticking up as he looked in it, and Harry pulled it out first. It was a letter addressed to him:

Dear Harry-
I know I'll not be able to mail this, so I'm giving it to Winky to keep until you come back. I know you'll be back soon. None of us in the DA believe a word they're saying about you. I know you haven't abandoned us, or run off to save yourself. Gryffindors don't do things like that.
I'm sorry I've been such a pest since meeting you. That's why I've tried to give you some space these past couple terms. I know I must have been a lot to put up with. I'm sorry.
You can't imagine what it's like here this year, with the Carrows...

The main body of the letter, written in Colin's tiny, neat script, matched exactly what Neville and Seamus and the others had told him. He forced himself to read it, fighting down a lump in his throat.

Still, his eyes lingered on some of the worse descriptions.

We've pinched some items to make PolyJuice Potion with. I can't understand why Professor Snape or Professor Slughorn doesn't yell about it, stuff missing, that is, but they don't. I know they know it's us. I can't believe Slughorn taught us how to make it, either! But we've done Draught of Living Death, and some other nasty ones, too. The Carrows like that idea.
Professor Slughorn has also taught us to make different salves and lotions, too, for first aid. Good thing for us, since even answering a question wrong in class gets you a beating. I've hidden a stash of PJP under my bed, I figure there's enough of it to last until May. We've been stealing hair out of the younger kids' combs at night. That way we can take their place if the detentions are too much for them. Professor Slughorn says if you cut the Mandrake and water mix down 50%, the potion can last twice as long; tastes twice as bad, too.
It works, if you ever need it.
They were going to hang Dennis by his ankles all night for refusing to Cruciate Malcolm Baddock for helping that Tucker kid in Hufflepuff with his homework.
I took his place.
Professor Snape knew I did it, though, I guess. He let me down after a couple hours, when they'd all gone to bed. It was his night to patrol. He did some healing Charms, and took me to the kitchen to sleep it off. Winky hid me in an oven.
Funny, huh?

"Only you, Colin," Harry had to smile, picturing the amusing scene in his mind. It wasn't really funny, but somehow, it was.

I can't tell anyone this, Harry, because he's put a Confidentiality Curse on me, but he's given me permission to write it. He wants you to know it, someday. I've been doing a lot of pictures for him, copying and restoring them. It's some lady that looks like she might be a Weasley, but she's got no freckles and has your eyes. He calls her 'Lily'. He even pays me to do the work. I feel safe with him.
Enclosed, you'll find copies of stuff that Professor Snape wanted you to have. I've made you copies of all the pictures I took of you, and Hogwarts, and an enlargement of the one of me, you, and Dennis. I'm sorry I bugged you so much for that one.
It's our favorite image. Thanks for letting us do it.
I hope you like them.
I think you'll find the rest useful, too, when you win this war. You'll need evidence, Professor Snape says. Here it is. My negatives are hidden under my bed, too.
Maybe I should have gone into hiding with my folks, but I think we can make a difference here. You taught us that.
I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but in case I don't – since I really don't expect to survive this year – will you do something for me?
If my parents don't come back, and I don't survive, will you take care of Dennis?
He'll have no one else.
I don't know who these 'Reeves' people are that Professor Snape says are my Magical ancestors; never heard of them? I know I'm Muggleborn, but he swears I'm not?
I have to go now, and hide this letter. Someone's coming.
Will add a PS later if I can.

Love,
your friend,
Colin Carl Creevey

"Carl," Harry whispered, "It was Carl." He then raised the heavy envelope, ripped it, and thousands of 4x6" color photos came pouring out onto his bed. Shocked at how much time it must have taken to print them all, without an automated Muggle machine to do it, Harry saw an 8x10" print fall out last. Just as Colin had written, it was a print of himself between the Creevey brothers. Photo!Harry looked annoyed, with a fake smile, while the two smaller boys were ecstatic.

"He used the self-timer," Harry recalled, running a hand over the pile of pictures. Everyone was there. It seemed that no one had escaped Colin's camera over the years. But as he picked up an image of the Common Room, a wide shot filled with students after a Quidditch victory, he noticed something: every person in the image was weeping. He didn't recall that ever happening. No one had ever seen him cry before, but as he picked up his formal portrait from the Second Year's Quidditch team, he saw himself, head bowed, crying.

Every single subject of every one of Colin's photos must have known that their Creator was now gone.

And the portraits wept.

He calls her 'Lily'.
I feel safe with him.
We've been stealing hair from their combs...
...refusing to Cruciate Baddock...

"Colin, you brave young man," Harry whispered in awe, as his own image, still in his hand looked up, wiped his face and then resumed a normal expression.

Harry's eyes moved back to the beginning of the letter: I'm sorry I've been such a pest since meeting you. He reread the ending: Love.

And Harry found himself thinking that right then, he'd give up anything he had for just a few minutes with Colin – to thank him.

Yet he did not cry.
Not this time.

Oddly, however, he felt as if he wanted to – but could not. It was as if his tears had all turned to dust, and in that instant, he was finished with crying.

He felt something within himself again, and as he rose from the bed, a cold determination came over him: Colin's sacrifices and heroics would not be unknown. He would not have died in vain. He would make damn sure of that.

And he would make sure that Colin Creevey knew it.

With a flick of his wand, he put the pictures away.

Changing out of his good robes and into clothing and boots suited for travel, Harry grabbed up the Elder Wand and vanished beneath his Invisibility Cloak.

No way was he trying to navigate the tent city on the lawn without it!

He was glad that he'd stopped in the kitchen to have Kreacher pack him a small lunch, because he'd been hiking around all morning, looking for something, with no luck. He knew the place. It would be just inside the Forbidden Forest, where Seamus, Luna, and Ernie had cast their Patronuses when Harry had felt that all hope was lost. And while he could see the trampled underbrush and snapped saplings where the troupe of Death Eaters had come through, with Hagrid carrying him, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

As he sat down on a fallen log to eat his sandwich (another huge creation complete with olives on toothpicks), he saw the mushrooms growing off of the back of it. "Pluteus cervinus, the deer mushroom," Harry mumbled, actually hoping that he'd never see another mushroom as long as he lived. After eating so many of them while on the run in the Forest of Dean, mushrooms had lost all appeal – on a pizza or not!

Putting the cloak aside, as he didn't want to dribble mustard on it, Harry suddenly had an idea. He finished his sandwich and threw the cloak back on, raising the Elder Wand. "If I am the Master, and I have two of them, I should be able to find the third," he reasoned, staring at the Wand, communing with it.

It was warm in his hand.

Fixing the image of the Resurrection Stone firmly in his mind, he said, "Point me!"

The Elder Wand twitched in his hand, moving a bit, and Harry walked that way. It had been dark the only time he'd been here, so nothing looked familiar in the daylight. That, and he'd been playing dead on the way out. He hadn't been able to watch where they'd been going. Still, it was almost as if he could feel it. He closed his eyes and walked, following the Wand's pull. I was ready to die, but he wasn't, Harry thought.

On impulse, as the Wand began to vibrate in his hand, Harry said, "Accio, Resurrection Stone!"

He opened eyes, feeling the power surging out of the Wand.

Before him floated the black stone that he'd first seen in the vision of Marvolo Gaunt's ring.

And reaching out his hand to grasp it, as the cloak slid from his shoulders, Harry thought only of the one he most needed to see.

More substantial than a Ghost, but not looking quite human, a young man appeared. He seemed to be made up of faded colors, Harry thought, like an old photograph that had been brought to life in bad chemicals. His sincere and smiling face, pale beneath a mop of mouse-brown hair, looked somewhat confused.

Harry tightened his grip on the Elder Wand, and Colin Creevey increased in saturation and density. As the young man shifted his feet, dead leaves crackled and a twig snapped. Harry recalled the only time he'd used the Stone – his parents, Sirius and Lupin, and had also made noise as they'd moved. That's how he'd known they were there. Madly, he realized that he'd not tried to touch them, nor they him.

Colin was taller than Harry remembered him.

"What am I doing in the forest?" Colin asked. Then he saw Harry, shouting his name and running towards him. He stumbled over a small rock, and Harry had to laugh as he caught him in his arms.

He'd caught him.

Colin was in a physical form.

For a long while, they embraced. The happiness radiating off Colin was almost a tangible thing, and Colin could feel Harry trembling. When they finally released, holding one another at arm's length, Colin's face fell.

"H-Harry, how? I...I died, I think?" Colin wondered.

Harry nodded.

"I...I was in this odd place? It was a train station, I wonder?" Colin breathed, and suddenly, he was off to the races, chattering away as if nothing at all were amiss. "I saw Professor Lupin, Harry! And Professors Dumbledore and Snape! And Fred, and a House Elf? All sorts of people, Harry! They all wanted to get on a train, but I thought we should wait!" He paused. "Sorry, I'm doing it again. I know it bugs you, Harry."

"No, Colin, it's fine," Harry smiled at him. "I got your letter. Thank you."

Colin blushed a bit, looking all around. "Harry, how can I be here?" He asked. "This feels...wrong?" Then he froze, as if finally realizing something of great import. "YOU WON!" He shouted, "Harry, you did it! You won!"

"I did," Harry smiled back at him, although it was almost beginning to feel as if he'd lost.

"How did I get here, then?" Colin asked again.

"Let me tell you a story about three brothers, Colin," Harry began, "I think you'll like it."

And so Harry told him the story, sitting beside him on a fallen log, holding his hand, and never taking his eyes off of the young man. When he was finished, he invited the awed Colin to tell him his story.

The sun was riding lower in the west when Colin finished, and he was looking tired. Harry didn't ever recall Colin being tired, though. But his tale of horror of the past term at Hogwarts, Harry thought, was enough to tire anyone. He himself didn't feel so good when it was done.

Still, he did not cry.

"Colin, who killed you?" Harry finally had to ask, that familiar sensation rising up within him again.

"Some man, a Death Eater, I think. He was quite...beastly?" Colin said. "He had very big teeth, Harry, but he looked like he might have been handsome, if he'd cleaned up a bit? He smelled...like a wet dog? And he had yellow eyes, too? Isn't that odd? And shaggy hair, too!" Colin shuddered. "His fingernails were almost like claws, and he had hairy hands."

"Fenrir Greyback," Harry muttered. "Thank you, Colin."

"Harry, have you heard from my parents? This funny little man in a purple robe, Mr. Diggle, I think? He said he was in charge of hiding Muggleborn families? My parents were going south, Penzance, maybe Falmouth, I think? Funny, I didn't remember that until just now? You think they might have blocked that memory, to protect them, if I was captured?" Colin gasped.

"I think so," Harry nodded. "Colin, did you see your parents there, where you were?"

"No," Colin said firmly, "But there had to be about a hundred people there I didn't know!"

"That's good," Harry agreed, "I'd say they're still alive, then."

"Harry, my letter...?" Colin paused, blushing. "And Dennis?"

"Dennis is fine. He will want for nothing, ever," Harry promised him. "I swear to you. If anything happens to your parents, I will take him in."

"Make them pay, Harry," Colin whispered, "Promise me you'll punish them for what they did to us? To Dennis?"

In all the time he'd known Colin, Harry couldn't recall a single time he'd wished anything bad on anyone. He was … had been … that kind of a boy.

Harry could only nod. "The evidence you've left me will be enough to convict them, Colin. They won't hurt anyone, ever again."

"Dementors?" Colin asked hopefully, surprising Harry that he would even think of such a thing. Then again, Harry was surprising himself a great deal of late, too.

"Maybe worse," Harry humored him.

Somewhere behind them, a twig snapped.

Both of them looked up quickly to see a small boy in a scarlet Gryffindor hoodie standing there in the path, wand in hand. His mouth was open, his eyes wide, and he appeared frozen.

Then he screamed: "COLIN!"

Dennis Creevey must have wandered off, Harry realized, seen a path in the forest, and followed it.

They were running at one another, Harry saw, and he tightened his grip on the Stone. He was tiring, but he knew if he dropped it, that Colin would vanish. That, Harry knew, would absolutely shatter Dennis. A terrible picture of him lying next to Avery in hospital, in the same catatonic condition, rose in his mind. He could not permit that.

Harry turned his back as the Creevey brothers embraced, just catching a glimpse of Colin kissing his little brother. He heard crying, but he was unable to join with them in it. Still. Then Colin was scolding his little brother for wandering off, congratulating him for his bravery, and encouraging him to carry on.

He was giving him hope.

Harry gave them their privacy.
He gave them their last, special moment together.

The setting sun was casting lengthening shadows all around, and the gloom of the forest was creeping in when Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. It was neither cold nor warm; it was simply there as he reached up to lay his own hand over it.

Colin.

"Harry, I have to go now. I can't stay here," Colin whispered to him.

"And Dennis?" Harry just managed, holding tight to his hand, and wishing that he could somehow pull him back through the Doors of Death.

"He understands," Colin sighed. "He'll cry, I'm sure, but I think it was good that he came. You gave us the chance to say goodbye properly. Thank you."

They looked up to see Dennis standing there, his back to them, kicking at the dirt of the path, and getting his good trainers all scuffed. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his face tear stained. Colin went to him one last time.

"It's just like that TV show we like, Denny, you know, the space station one?" Colin reminded him, taking him in his arms one last time. "Like the Prophets say, Denny, 'It's not linear'.* I'll always be there, waiting, watching. I love you," Colin reminded him again.

"I love you, too," Dennis hugged him one last time. Then he looked up and nodded at Harry. Colin must have told him.

Harry put the Stone in his pocket.

Colin vanished.

Dennis stared at him, but there was no accusation in his brown eyes. In fact, there was a sparkle there that had been absent since Harry had first seen him after the Battle. Then he walked up to Harry, hugged him, and whispered, "I love you, Harry. Thank you."

"Dennis, I can't do it again, you know," Harry informed him, not sure if it were true or not. He thought it might be more damaging to the boy if he did.

"Colin told me," Dennis sighed, "It's all right, Harry. I get it. He'll be OK, I know it now. I can't wait to tell Sir Nicholas!" He smiled.

Harry kissed the top of his head. It was hard to believe that this small boy was almost a Fifth Year. He could be their next Prefect, Harry thought. He'd have to talk to McGonagall about that.

"I meant what I said to Colin," Harry reminded him, taking his hand to walk him back. As they emerged from the forest, Harry felt a bit devious, though. "Now, Dennis, if I'm going to be your magical guardian until your parents get back, you have to realize that there will be some rules. You just wandered off and into the Forbidden Forest, didn't you?"

Dennis squeaked in surprise. "Y-y-yes, sir?"

"I guess I'm going to have to ground you, then, son," Harry smiled down at him. "Hagrid could use some help bathing the Hippogriff herd, and Mr. Filch has a lot of work to do. Do you know where we might find a kitten?"

Dennis looked ecstatic. As they walked out of the trees, he said, "You know, this evening light, when it drops below 6500K, turns your prints yellow, unless you have an 80-series filter on the lens."

"Dennis, you know you can't tell anyone about this?" Harry told him.

"I know, Harry," Dennis agreed, "Colin told me."

Harry just smiled as they headed back in and climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. "Wash up, it's time for dinner," he told the boy.

"Oh, Merlin!" Ron gasped, "Tell me you haven't adopted him?"

"Would you be the Godfather, Ron?" Harry smirked at him.

Ron turned to Neville, his face white. "Murder me, Neville!" He begged, just as Hermione showed up with Teddy. Ron fled.

The next day, Harry accompanied Dennis to Hogsmeade Village. It didn't take them long to find what they were looking for.

When they returned to Hogwarts, where Dennis would spend two hours each day with Mr. Filch helping with cleanup, the boy presented him with a scruffy looking tiger-striped kitten.

"I found her, sir. Harry says to bring her to you?" Dennis told him.

For a moment, it looked as if Filch wanted to bludgeon the boy with his mop. Then his face softened, and he accepted the kitten, inviting Dennis to come along and wash windows with him.

"He smiled?" Seamus gasped, he and the others peering around a corner at the scene.

"Yes, he did," Harry nodded.

At lunch, they were surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt coming through a side door to join the staff at the high table. He beckoned to Harry.

"Auror Proudfoot contacted me this morning, Harry," Kingsley said in low voice, "I wanted to tell you personally, as I know you've a vested interest in this case. They brought in Squire Jugson last night, along with a few others."

Harry's face went hard. Then he smirked. "Who names their kid 'Squire'?" His moment of levity passed quickly, though.

"Where is he?" Harry growled.

"Ministry, Auror Level 2, of course, in holding," Kingsley replied. He met Harry's glare for a moment. "Don't do anything stupid, Harry," he warned him.

"You actually think you can protect him from me?" Harry laughed. He toned it down when he noticed many of them staring at them. "As legal guardian to Dennis Creevey now, well, as soon as Percy processes our papers, I think it only fitting that Mr. Jugson have a speedy trial, where he can face is accusers, don't you?"

"Potter, you can't put the boy through that?" McGonagall gasped.

"Dennis has been writing a report," Harry informed them. "Let's say he's had some counseling, of a sort. He's fully prepared for this, and I've been staying up late reading some very interesting things, Professor. I repeat, as Dennis' guardian, I expect Jugson to be punished to the fullest extent of the law."

"Under current law," Kingsley cleared his throat, "He'd get sent to Azkaban for twenty years. As it was, with the Dementors, I don't think he'd have lived that long, though."

"I only need a few minutes," Harry shrugged. "Whether I succeed or not, it's a moot point. He'll either be sufficiently punished, or he'll be brain dead."

"Since when do you dish out sentences?" Kingsley retorted, sounding shocked.

"Let me make this clear, Minister," Harry's voice was cold, "Either you will give me five minutes alone with him, if he's found guilty, or I will hunt him down later. Dennis Creevey is a child who couldn't defend himself against a monster! I will not stand by while the man who raped him sits there, safely tucked away in prison without benefit of Dementors!"

They all just stared at him.

An emotion flickered across the Minister's face, for only a second, but Harry caught it.

Fear.

He found that he liked that.

"What was that all about at lunch, Harry?" Hermione demanded, as they all sat around the Common Room that evening after a hard day's work of cleanup.

"Yeah, I can't believe you talked to Kingsley that way!" Ron exclaimed. "It sounded like you were threatening him!"

"I did no such thing," Harry shrugged, gently rocking Teddy as the baby finished his bottle. Then he burped him.

"Did ya really adopt Dennis?" Seamus wondered.

"I am his legal guardian, until his folks get back," Harry nodded. "Diggle misplaced them after the funeral!"

"I'm just going to come right out and say it, Harry," Hermione threw up her arms, "Just because you defeated Voldemort, that doesn't mean that you can just waltz into wherever and just start giving orders! Do you really believe that the Wizengamot, such as it is, is just going to sit there while you dole out punishments?"

"There will be a trial, and if Jugson is found guilty, all I want is five minutes with him," Harry replied calmly. "I'm not going to kill him."

"You should," Dean mumbled, and they all looked at him. "What?! What that pervert did was wrong! He deserves whatever Harry gives him! I just hope I'm around to see the bastard what hurt Justin get his!"

"You lot can't just run off on a vendetta, every time you're angry with someone!" Hermione protested.

"Why not?" Ginny cut in, "I got an owl from Pauline Pringle today. She's pregnant."

"Wasn't she the Ravenclaw who left around February?" Neville asked, just as the door opened and a very dirty and tired Dennis came toddling in.

"Never say 'giddy-yap' when yer sittin' on Buckbeak's back, scrubbing," he mumbled, his head bobbling.

Harry handed Teddy off to Ginny; Teddy spit up on her. "Bath, then bed," Harry told the boy. "I'll be up in ten minutes."

"He's turning into Mum!" Ron fretted, watching them go.

"He's turning into something, all right," Hermione worried.

"I wouldn't worry," Seamus told her, "I wouldn't mind takin' a few licks at Jugson meself. Or Dawlish. Or Rowle, or any of 'em!"

"The Battle is over, we won," Hermione reminded them all.

"Doesn't feel like it, sometimes," Dean muttered, as he got up to go. "I'm gonna go see Justin."

Seamus went with him.

"Harry, do I have to...to tell them, in court?" Dennis fretted, as Harry made sure that the remaining Fourth Years, soon to be Fifths, were all present and properly in bed.

"No, Dennis," he assured him. "All you have to do is ID him, and turn in your report."

"I'd tear him up, Denny," Nigel suggested.

"Boys, did any of the Death Eaters here...hurt you? Like...?" He nodded at Dennis, wondering if they knew.

"It's OK, sir," another boy replied, Preston-something, Harry thought, "Dennis told us. W-we had to take him to hospital, you know."

"Other than bein' beat, and put in chains, or Cruciated, no," Nigel added.

"They picked on Denny 'cause he were small," Preston said.

"Harry, do you think you could get me a growth potion?" Dennis yawned, just as the door cracked a bit. There was a soft knock.

"I saw the light on, and Miss Granger said you were here, Potter," Professor McGonagall offered, holding a letter, "Wolpert, your parents will be here tomorrow to get you." She looked at Harry again. "Everything all right here?"

"You just let nature have Her way," Harry ruffled Dennis' hair, tucking him in. "And no sneaking out!" He warned the boy, but Dennis was already asleep, exhausted from his big day with Hagrid.

"Thanks, Professor," Nigel smiled, as he rolled over and his curtains closed.

"No word yet, Smith," She told Preston.

"s'OK, they'll be fine," Smith nodded, "G'night." And his curtains slid shut.

"Well, two more of them have been claimed, at least," McGonagall sighed, glancing at the empty beds, "Harry," she whispered his name, "Do you think this wise?" She ushered him out the door.

"Professor, they hurt him, physically and mentally!" Harry reminded her, "And he just asked for a growth potion, for God's sake!"

"Is it true you punished him today, for sneaking into the Forest?" She asked in disbelief.

"He loves it," Harry grinned, "And so does Hagrid!"

"Oh my goodness," McGonagall had to smile. "But getting back to your plan, Harry," She took his arm, "I don't know about getting involved. I'm sure I could do it, with minimal risk, but copying his memories? You want to show them at the trial?"

"Yes, Professor, and I plan to implant them into Jugson's mind. Every day, right at bedtime, he's going to relive what he did to Dennis. Each and every time he did it to him!" Harry's upper lip twitched in an ugly sneer. "I don't want him to ever forget it! I want him to know how Dennis felt!"

McGonagall blanched, clearly shaken. "Do you plan to remove these memories from the boy, too?" she then asked. "That's a bit more dangerous, with children, than just copying."

"As much as I'd like to, it's too dangerous. He could have brain damage, if someone not that skilled in it tried. Damn, I wish Lockhart hadn't gone nuts. He was great at Memory Charms," Harry shook his head.

"And here we thought you were going to kill Jugson," she shook her head. "I'm sorry for thinking that of you, Harry. It's a fitting punishment." Then she paused. "Me, I'd turn him over to the Dementors for a nice long kiss!"

It was Harry's turn to gasp.

"Professor, I didn't know you had it in you!" Harry managed.

"You'd be surprised what I've got in me," McGonagall replied. "I'll go and fetch a new Pensieve, and when Creevey's gone into REM sleep, I'll make the copy."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry smiled.

"Harry, if you're going to teach DADA classes here this fall, and with all we've been through," She took a long look at him, grasping his upper arms and just looking at him. "My, how you've grown. Every time I hear your voice, I half expect to see that short, skinny boy who was half-scared to sit on the stool and be Sorted!" She shook her head again. "You've grown into a fine young man, Harry, and if we're to work together, I think you may feel free to start calling me 'Minerva'."

"I need some time on that one, Professor," Harry smiled, "But thank you!" He grinned. "What's this I hear about 'Aunt Minnie' when Teddy's around?" He had to ask.

McGonagall gave him her most stern look. It didn't work anymore.

"Teddy is a baby," she replied primly.

Around two in the morning, a Pensieve was quietly filled with the silvery mists of Dennis Creevey's memories. The boy stirred in his sleep, whimpering. When the job was finished, Dennis turned on his side and snuggled down deeper into his blankets, covering his head. She pulled the blanket back, afraid he'd suffocate. As the Pensieve floated away to await its use, she considered long and hard the ramifications of her actions.

Again, she drew her wand, still tingling from the memory duplication.

She then whispered softly, "Somnium jucundum!" [pleasant dreams]

Behind closed eyelids, the boy's eyes were moving. He smiled in his sleep.

And for the first time in a long time, Dennis Creevey slept through the night.

"And just what do you know about law?" Hermione was complaining to Harry, "Can't you find a real lawyer to hire?"

"Dudley was addicted to those TV crime shows," Harry replied, "I think I know when to object and such. In fact, I think if I had to watch one more episode, I'd scream. I'd have tossed that bitch down the elevator shaft too, come to think of it?"

"The Wizengamot works a bit different," Ron warned him.

"Television," Neville said, "Never saw the use of it. Gran thinks it's Muggle madness!"

"How is Gran?" Seamus asked.

"Annoyed. They won't let her visit Dawlish in hospital," Neville laughed. "Said she wasn't done with him, as they got interrupted? He's claiming he was Imperious Cursed, but Gran wants to make sure he's not lying."

"I think she should guest lecture for DADA next term," Harry mused. Neville gasped.

"It's getting quiet around here," Ron mused, "Nigel left today, said his folks were taking him to Fiji. Smith's did too, but they're off to the Canary Islands. I'd like to go to Fiji." He looked at Harry. "Any word yet?"

"No," Harry said curtly, adjusting his tie and smoothing his dress robes. "I don't like the idea of him being in that room all alone, either. Has anyone seen Andromeda?"

"She was headed out with Gran and Teddy and Mrs. Weasley," Neville spoke up, "Something about Hogsmeade?"

"Merlin help 'em," Seamus grinned. "Harry, why don't you ask Dennis down? I'm headed home today, he can have my bed," He announced, "Da' called and said Mam were in a state. Best go see if I can settle her down."

"Good luck," Dean mumbled.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"I think it's sweet," Ginny offered, and Ron turned white, just as the Fat Lady called out for Harry.

"Package from Wizard's Parcel Service, sir," Greene announced, answering the door. He and Humphries were the last two Firsties left. He handed the box over to Harry.

"It's from Gringotts, Trust Division," Harry read the label, and they all pulled their wands, scanning it. The package was clean, but there was a red envelope attached to it.

"Howler!" Ron gasped, as the letter went off.

"To be delivered to Harry Potter in the event of my death!" The voice of Alastor Moody growled, "As I've no one else ter leave it to! Enclosed, you'll find a key to my special vault, and a few things that might come in handy here. Not sure about your size, but I got a good look at you a few times, compared you ter yer dad. The coat should fit. I expect you to use it until it falls apart! Constant vigilance, Potter! Oh, the Dragonhide vest may be a bit loose. Sorry. Getting old and fat in my dotage, I guess! Anyway, what are you all standin' around gawking at?" The letter said, as if it could see them, "Try it on! You might have to charm boots down, though, small as yeh are! Use it well!" The Howler then self-destructed.

Harry pulled out a long brown trench coat. For a moment, he just stared at it, the dream about the Mirror coming back to him. He took off his dress robe, and tried it on. "I think I'll go and change," he mused. "Has anyone seen Dennis?"

"Still in bed, slept through breakfast," Ginny said, "I'll go and fetch him."

When Harry returned, they all gasped. Harry looked thrilled, looking a great deal like Moody.

"You look absolutely deranged, mate," Ron complimented him.

"Check this out!" Harry crowed, sticking his chest out to show off the vest. "Go on! Hit me with something! It's magically Dragonhide-armor plated!"

"Seems to be the real thing," Hermione nodded, walking around Harry and inspecting him, scanning him with her wand. "Those boots are just so not you, though!" She took aim at him. "Stupefy!" She cast the hex, but it bounced off the vest. "Averte Statem!" That one bounced off, too.

"C'mon then!" Harry egged her on. "Hit me!"

"Reducto!" The curse ricocheted off and blew a small hole in the wall. Harry just stood there, smiling at her.

"Decided on a career, have we?" McGonagall spoke up, clambering through the Portait hole. She stared at Harry in mild shock. "Of course you know, some of the enchantments on that outfit are illegal," she informed him. "Where's Creevey? It's time to go," she changed tracks. "You're not going out dressed like that, are you, Harry?"

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"It's scary," Neville commented.

"It's ridiculous," Hermione added, just as Ginny came down the stairs with Dennis.

He was looking very dapper in a black Muggle style suit with polished dress shoes, and she'd styled his hair. The only bit of color was his Gryffindor tie.

"Ready to kick arse and take names?" Harry asked him.

"You look COOL!" Dennis smiled at him.

"You'll be Portkey'ing to the visitors entrance," McGonagall informed them, "Where you'll meet up with Arthur. You sure you want to go out in public looking like that, Harry?" She asked again.

"Just give us the Portkey," Harry sighed, taking Dennis' hand.

When they arrived, Arthur blinked at them, and complimented Dennis. He didn't say anything other than 'hello' to Harry. As they descended through the phone booth, Dennis was awed. "Percy's waiting below," Arthur informed them. "Good luck."

"We won't need it, thanks," Harry shook his hand, as they entered the Wizengamot Chambers.

There weren't as many members in plum robes as Harry remembered, the War having taken out a few of them, he guessed. He smiled when he saw Elphias Doge sitting at the head of the council, Kingsley observing, with Percy awaiting them at the plaintiff's table. Everyone was staring at Harry as he had Dennis sit, then pulled out an expanding briefcase from his coat.

Doge cleared his throat. "Let's get this over with, Moody...I mean, Potter," he grinned, "I intend to be here until dinnertime, not senility!" He waved his wand, and an illusion of a lineup of some rather nasty looking men appeared in a frame on the wall. "In the matter of the charges brought by legal guardian of...?" Doge asked, as Percy handed him some papers, "Of one Dennis Reid Creevey, Gryffindor student, advancing to Fifth Year," he read through the papers, "Harry Potter designated legal guardian, good. Diggle's still trying to remember where he left your folks, boy! Now, as to the charges of..." Doge's face fell as he flipped the pages. "Things I won't repeat in the presence of ladies," he coughed. "Son, can you identify the man who allegedly did these things to you?" He pointed to the illusory image.

Dennis fidgeted in his seat. "Third one from the left, sir, with the dark hair and funny nose." The image zoomed in on just him.

"This man was a security guard at Hogwarts during last term?" Doge asked, and Dennis nodded. "Bring in the accused!" Doge shouted, and the center of the floor opened up. Harry remembered the barbaric looking chair from his trip into Dumbledore's Pensieve some years before, at the trial where Igor Karkarov had ratted out Barty Crouch, Jr. It hadn't changed a bit, looking like some mad combination of chair and cage. Sitting in it was a man. Dennis gasped, and Harry put his arm about his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Do you know his name?" Doge asked.

"Officer Jugson, sir," Dennis replied.

"So noted, plaintiff has identified defendant. Squire Jugson," Doge went on, nodding, "You are accused of deviant acts with a minor, use of Unforgivable Curses on students, and a host of other crimes during your association with the recently departed Dark Lord. I'd read them all, but we'd be here all day! How do you plead?"

Jugson laughed, and it was enough to send chills down one's spine. He glared at Percy, Harry, and Dennis.

"I never done nothin' ter that little Mudblood midget!" Jugson snarled, "Nothin' but what I were ordered ter do!"

Doge nodded to Harry, who got up and approached him. "You were employed by the Carrows, weren't you? As a security guard at Hogwarts?"

"I were," Jugson nodded.

"And you enjoyed your job, keeping the kids in line? Making sure everything was secure?"

"Yes."

"Do you know this student?" Harry asked.

"They all look tha same ter me."

"Then how do you know he's a 'Mudblood', as you said?" Harry asked, pulling a paper. "According to this, he's a Halfblood of the Reeves line?"

Jugson glared at him. "Whatever. Ain't here ner there ter me, what his blood is."

"You admit that you assaulted him?" Harry pressed him.

"I disciplined a lotta kids," Jugson shrugged.

"Yes, that was your job, wasn't it?" Harry went on, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small bottle. "Then you've nothing to hide, then? Maybe you can tell us who else might have harmed this boy, or any other students?"

"Don't know, now, do I?"

"Does the court object?" Harry asked, but no one did.

Jugson laughed at him. "I gots nothin' ter hide!" But he seemed reluctant, as if having a change of mind.

"Don't you?" Harry grinned at him, reaching through the cage to grab his nose. He waited until Jugson opened his mouth to gasp, and poured the Veritaserum down his throat. He gave it a minute. "Sir, I'd ask that Dennis now be excused. I'd also suggest that the ladies consider leaving. You've seen his report, signed affidavits from myself and Headmistress McGonagall, and I see no point in traumatizing him further by making him talk about it."

Doge nodded, and Percy escorted Dennis to the door.

"You seem quite convinced, Potter?" One of them asked him. "You're bordering on contempt!"

"Yeah, little liar can't stand there and face me?" Jugson snorted.

Dennis suddenly turned on him, and Percy nearly pulled him over before he could stop. "You hit me, you tortured me, you cursed me – with the Unforgivable one – and you made me have sex with you! You molested me!" Dennis spat. "THERE!"

"Score one for Gryffindor bravery," Percy mumbled, patting his back as the Wizengamot looked on, stunned.

About then, the Veritaserum kicked in.

"You like little boys, don't you?" Harry asked Jugson bluntly.

"Objection!" Someone from the council spoke up, but it sounded more like a formality than defense.

"Overruled," Doge growled.

"Yes," Jugson answered, to the shock of many. "Boys, girls..." he muttered dreamily.

"Squire Jugson, did you sexually assault that boy who just left the room?" Harry asked bluntly, as several members of the Wizengamot gasped again at his audacity.

"Yes, I did – and I'd do it again!" Jugson exclaimed.

"Tell us all about it, please?" Harry asked.

He then began to go into lurid detail. Several of the ladies fainted. Doge looked ill.

"Who else was doing these things to students?" Harry demanded. "NAMES! I want names!"

And Jugson talked. Doge scribbled notes.

"You cursed the Creevey boy? And others? You used manacles on them? You assaulted and tortured them?" Harry demanded. "And you molested Dennis?"

"YES!"

"Why?"

"Because I could!" Jugson grinned.

"Whom else did you molest?"

"Just him," Jugson said in that dreamy voice.

"That's a relief," Doge muttered.

"Were you ordered to do these things?" Harry pressed on, his anger building.

"Yes."

"Were you ordered to molest anyone?"

"Nope. I just enjoyed me work! Fringe benefits."

"I've heard enough," Doge called out.

"If it would please the Wizengamot," Harry offered, pulling out the Pensieve, "I would like to enter into the record the memories extracted from Dennis Creevey by Minerva McGonagall, as evidence."

"Proceed," Doge said, his voice unsteady.

Harry removed the lid. "Acclaro!" He flicked his wand at it.

A 3D image of a Gryffindor dormitory formed up, with bed curtains at the edges, as if from a student's point of view. Jugson was walking toward the viewers, a horrible and anxious look on his face. "Get up, Creevey," his hand reached forward, covering the lower half of the image. They were jostled with the view then, as if Dennis were being dragged out of the room and down a corridor to an unused classroom.

"Take yer clothes off, boy," Jugson was saying, as the view changed to a pair of small slippers being kicked off. Pyjama trousers fell to the floor around bare feet. There was a sound of sniffling and coughing. The view lowered some.

"P-please d-don't!" They all heard Dennis' voice crying, begging, as Jugson began undoing his trousers.

Many of the Wizengamot looked away as the images became unspeakable.

Memory!Dennis screamed.

"ENOUGH!" Doge flicked his wand at it, and the image vanished.

Percy cleared his throat, passing a folder of papers to Harry. "I would also like to enter into the record, Dennis Creevey's medical files from Madame Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts Chief Medical Witch. They'll replicate via Gemino Curse a dozen times," Harry added. "And I would remind the court, that these are private files. If any of these proceedings show up in the press, I will be...unhappy."

"I object. We don't need you to tell us..." a witch began to say.

"Shut up, Betsy," Doge cut across her. "Your friend, Rita, isn't getting her hands on any of this."

"As you can see, the same repeated treatments for trauma to the boy's re-..."

"I see," Doge cut across Harry, "I can read, you know."

"She took samples?" Doge asked. "Not too bright, are we, Jugson? Leaving evidence lying about? I'm sure that handy Muggle DNA test thing will come in handy, proving a match."

Jugson, however, was now suffering Veritaserum hangover.

"Bella were foolin' around with Yaxley, ya know," Jugson was mumbling.

"Snap him out of it," Kingsley ordered, and Doge did that. "Well, Mr. Potter," he turned to Harry. "You were saying that you'd like five minutes with this man, if he were found guilty? What say ye, members of the Wizengamot? Innocent?"

No one said a word.

"Guilty as charged?"

All hands raised.

Doge fired a loud bang from his wand. He leaned forward, looking at Harry. "I've been informed, Mr. Potter, that you and your friends think our sentencing structure is ridiculous? In that case, perhaps you'd like to come up with a better one?"

"I would, your honour," Harry agreed.

"You've been watching Muggle TV crime dramas, haven't you?" Doge laughed.

Harry ignored him, raising his wand. "I could easily Cruciate you, Jugson, just like you did those kids. I could hit you, I could hang you in chains, or even kill you with my bare hands – no one would convict me! But I've come up with something a bit more humane. I think you might like it."

Jugson, now fully coherent again, was trembling in the chair as Harry approached him. He recognized the wand in Harry's hand, saw the look on his face, saw the slight flick of the wand in a wordless spell.

Jugson screamed.

"Honestly, I haven't touched him," Harry held out his hands. "Bad memories, mate? Scared of what Dumbledore's old wand might do?" Harry whispered to him, "Then again, Voldemort was afraid of the old man, wasn't he?" Harry flicked the Elder Wand again. "I'm stopping at Ollie's today to have it polished, to display in his office as an historical relic," Harry added, grinning, but I think it deserves one last use, don't you?"

Swirling vapors then rose from the Pensieve, sparkling in the air, like dancing clouds of glowing and frosty breath in the sun on a winter's day. They rose up around the tip of the wand, and then Harry pointed it at Jugson.

"LEGILLIMENS!" He shouted, and the swirls of memory began to flow towards Jugson, hitting his face, and vanishing as if he were inhaling them.

Jugson's face went deathly pale, his eyes went wide, and he screamed again. He struggled and thrashed in the chair, cutting himself in a dozen places as he fought against the restraints in a futile bid to escape.

"Justice," Harry said flatly. "Thank you for your time, Minister – Your Honour, members of the Wizengamot." He bowed and turned to go.

"What have you done, Potter?" Doge asked, looking confused.

"I've grafted Dennis' memories into Jugson's mind," Harry shrugged. "An accidental little trick I learned from a lesson with Professor Snape gone wrong when I was in Fifth Year. You see, I was to learn Occlumency, keeping someone OUT. But I found I was better at getting IN."

"And that's it? What about prison time?" Kingsley wondered.

Harry shrugged. "That'd be good, too. Twenty years per count is fine, I suppose. However, there's a catch, Minister, Your Honour – those memories will automatically replay every day for the rest of Jugson's life. For every time he ...assaulted... Dennis, he'll relive each time once a day in real-time. It'll be just like he's the one being assaulted."

The remaining members all went pale again. Several jaws dropped.

"That's monstrous!" Betsy-whoever protested.

Harry just smirked at her. "So was what he did to Dennis, and that boy will have to live with that for the rest of his life, too!"

"Harry," Doge then said, his voice lower now, "I think I can speak for the Wizengamot when I say – you have our permission to Obliviate the boy's memory, when it's safe enough to do so." They conferred for a moment. "It is also our judgment that any and all funds in Jugson's account at Gringotts be transferred to the Creevey boy at once as some compensation."

"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded, then turned his head to give Betsy, Rita's friend, a glare. She shrank back in her seat.

"Oh!" Harry snapped his fingers, turning back around to face them again. "One more thing, Minister, Members? I'd like to bring charges of murder, or rather, another charge of it, against Fenrir Greyback."

"Who's next on that list?" Doge sighed.

"Colin Creevey, Dennis' elder brother," Harry said, with just a bit of a hitch to his voice.

"Are we done yet?" Doge snorted.

"I am, sir?" Harry inclined his head politely.

"Dismissed, then! Get out!*" Doge fired his wand again.

Harry met up with Dennis in the corridor. He was chatting with Arthur Weasley about computers and something like 98 windows?

"Congratulations, Dennis! You nailed him! He's going to be in Azkaban for a long, long time," Harry assured him.

"With Dementors?" Dennis asked anxiously.

They all flinched at the savagery evident in his request. Dennis looked as if he might cry then, but he didn't. Harry was proud of him.

"What say we go get some ice cream?" Harry asked.

"Florian Fortescue's gone," Percy reminded them.

"I'm sure we can find someplace in the Muggle side of town," Harry nodded.

"I'd like that," Dennis smiled and took his hand.

And although he'd put on a brave face, Harry could feel his small hand trembling in his own.

Dennis Creevey still had a long way to go.

Don't we all? Harry had to wonder.

That night, Dennis slept in Seamus' bed, as all his friends had finally gone home. He drifted off almost at once, completely done in by his big day. Harry was watching Teddy, while Ron looked at Colin's photos with Hermione. Dean was in Hospital, sitting by Justin, who still hadn't regained consciousness, and Neville was reading in bed.

"You know, your older brothers probably felt the same way about you," Harry reminded Ron, noting the look on his face as he glanced at a sleeping Dennis.

"Harry, can I give this one to George?" Ron then asked, still browsing the thousands of photographs from Colin. It was a picture of the Twins holding up a toilet seat.

"I think it's a great idea," Hermione agreed, as she browsed with him. "Oh, look! Crookshanks!"

"Where is that ugly brute, anyway?" Ron provoked her.

"In Australia, with Mum and Dad," Hermione replied coolly, "I should probably make plans to go and fetch them."

"I think the International Portkey Office is still down," Harry said, "Krum should be arriving on that ship of his tomorrow morning, though. Did you know that Durmstrang'ers start school at age ten, and only get all of July and August off for summer holiday?"

"Blimey," Ron snorted, "Poor kids."

"Speaking of," Harry nodded at Dennis, who didn't like to close all his curtains. He liked to have the one facing the door open. "He's been asleep for a couple hours. He's dreaming."

Hermione looked from Dennis to Harry and back again, but said nothing.

"I'm going to have nightmares about those pyjamas," Ron worried. "Honestly, Harry, he's going to be fifteen in August. He's not a toddler!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked warily, glancing at Teddy's bassinet by his bedside.

"Meaning that if you put a nappie on Dennis and a dummy [pacifier] in his mouth, you'd be treating them the same way!" Ron pointed out.

Neville looked up from his book on Advanced Herbology. "Ron, have you ever been hung up in iron maidens, barefoot, and had your feet burned with a torch, healed magically, then burned again a few minutes later?"

Ron said nothing.

"Well, Dennis has," Neville went on. "The Carrows could be really creative, when they wanted to be. And being so small, and a Gryffindor, Dennis was the perfect target. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is, having a part of your body Vanished, and knowing the person who Vanished it is the only one who can bring it back? Leave him alone!" Neville said with uncharacteristic authority.

Then again, Neville had changed a lot.

But they've used you as a knife sharpener!**

"What memories shall I erase, then?" Hermione asked.

Ron and Neville both gasped.

"This was your idea!" Ron accused Harry, looking horrified. "Memory extraction copies are dangerous enough on kids, but one slip, and you'll give him a lobotomy!"

For an instant, Hermione was proud that Ron even knew that about Memory Charms.

"I selectively removed my parents memories of me," Hermione defended the idea.

"They're adults, fully-formed brains!" Ron protested.

"What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger," Neville put in. "Leave me out of this, mates. I won't be party to it. All I'll say is it's dangerous. What we've been through has made us stronger, I think." He paused. "Did either of you ask Dennis if he wanted this?"

"Neville, a man raped him!" Harry reminded him. "That isn't my idea of making him stronger! It's probably going to make him introverted and unable to form meaningful relationships later in life! And what if he were gay, like Dean? Even that's ruined now, because he'll just associate it with brutality!"

"Or seek out an older, abusive partner," Hermione added.

"Is there anything you don't know?" Ron snorted. "It sounds good in theory, mates, but you're talking about screwing around with the kid's brain!"

"As his guardian, I have to decide what's best for him," Harry decided, looking at Teddy. He bit his lower lip.

"Oh, God, no?!" Hermione gasped.

Harry nodded. His lip was bleeding.

"Diggle called on the Floo just after dinner," Harry whispered, "Dennis is officially an orphan now."

"How'd it happen?" Neville breathed, eyes brimming. It was the first time they'd seen him even near tears since returning to Hogwarts.

"Drunk driver. They'd gone back to Penzance after the funeral with Diggle to get their things. They insisted, silly Muggles, that they take a cab and let Diggle get back to work with other families of Muggleborns. They were hit head on, killed instantly. Dammit, why didn't they stay here?"

"This news will kill him, Harry," Neville sighed. "It's too much. We can handle loss of parents. But he can't – not with all the rest."

"Yes," Ron agreed, "Do it."

"Together," Hermione told Harry, "That wand knows you, and it'll know how you care for Dennis. I don't think it will harm him."

Together, they held the Elder Wand to Dennis' forehead.

"Obliviate," They whispered lovingly.

**DH, pp. 574, USA