Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter & his world.
Chapter 9:
Amelia Bones was voted in by the witches and wizards who had the vote, all those over the age of thirty, but excluding those who had ever been convicted of a crime.
Harry gave her two weeks to get settled in, before requesting an appointment. For a long time, he had thought that the only way to free himself from the constant risk of Death Curses was to kill some of his attackers with their own spells. Otherwise, their habit of disapparating instantly after throwing the spell, even without seeing its effect, meant it was almost risk free for them. But he thought that he just might be quick enough to bat a spell straight back to kill the attacker. He knew Dumbledore's feelings about killing, but he wanted the freedom to go about like any ordinary person.
He was relieved when Madam Bones expressed the view that batting a Death Curse back to its originator was the same as a duelling death, which was never regarded as murder. But he pressed for something more, he wanted a signed permission note. He simply did not trust the Ministry of Magic, even with Madam Bones in charge. It was well known why Harry Potter seldom appeared in public, there had been that newspaper photograph showing him narrowly avoiding not one, but two Death Curses. (The award winning photograph was on permanent display at the office of The Daily Prophet.) So Madam Bones was sympathetic, and gave him the note that he wanted.
But now he had a decision to make. He had decided he was perfectly willing to kill someone who was actively trying to kill him, and he disregarded Dumbledore's philosophy that to kill was always wrong. But should he actively court an attack, or should he just wait until it happened, as it undoubtedly would? For so long he had been cautious, and his caution had kept him alive. But now he had something dangerous to do, that he knew he was going to do, and he wanted to get it over.
In the end, he decided not to delay. He was going to do the job the following Saturday, and hang around in Hogsmeade, until at least two death attempts had been made. Hogsmeade had been perilous for him ever since he had killed Voldemort. He assumed that there was an especially good intelligence service there, that alerted his potential attackers to their opportunity. It was not a Hogsmeade weekend for the students, so there would be none of his own students to upset by seeing a killing, either his own, or, hopefully, his attackers. Harry did not fool himself. It made no difference that he had dodged or deflected dozens of these Death Curses, each one was a deadly threat. He only had to be caught in the back, or to miss the warning hiss of the incantation, or the slight movement to the side or behind, and he was dead.
That night he added the name and address of his newest girlfriend to the list of people to be advised that he was dead, crossed out a few old girlfriends, whom he assumed would no longer be interested, and after a moment, copied out the list on a fresh sheet of paper. There was no point in advertising the numbers of women who had enjoyed his company in the last year or so! Dumbledore had long known that Harry had a will in his room, and that he was depending on Dumbledore to organise what was needed. He hadn't told Dumbledore what he was planning, and he didn't know that Dumbledore had been told about the interview by Amelia Bones.
At breakfast Saturday morning, there was nothing in his demeanour to suggest that he was thinking of doing anything out of the ordinary, and Dumbledore thought he could probably relax for the moment, but asked, "What are your plans, today, Harry?"
Harry answered casually, "Hagrid has asked me to help him with his hippogriffs," which was quite true, and was what Harry would be doing in the afternoon - if he was still alive.
Dumbledore prided himself on his ability to tell truth from lies, and was reassured. He'd told Severus Snape that Harry might be thinking of courting a Death Curse, but Snape was very familiar with Harry's habitual caution, and thought it unlikely.
There is a difference between dealing with a dangerous situation that is suddenly apparent, and actively courting danger, and Harry was human - he was very nervous. He hadn't particularly ever wanted to kill anyone, but he wanted his freedom. It was not in his creed that each person has an equal right to live - in his simple fighter's philosophy, his own life was infinitely more valuable than the life of the person attacking him. When Harry Potter visited the village of Hogsmeade, it was with every intention of killing.
For a change, he signed himself out at the main gate, as was the rule for everybody these days, with the intensive security that was needed wherever Harry Potter lived. He suspected that the gates were watched, and he wanted to get this job over with. His wariness increased as he entered the small village, but nothing was really likely to happen for a while, so he thought he might as well pick up some books that he wanted. He was only ten minutes in the bookstore, when he felt those warning prickles of danger that had so often saved his life. Keeping one wary eye on the door, therefore, he made his purchases, and, thinking that he really had to have his hands free, requested that the three books be delivered to Hogwarts.
The bookstore owner had known who Harry was the instant he entered the store, and was rather nervous, discernibly sweaty, and very, very helpful.
Harry was hesitating. This was what he had come for. All he had to do was to go out that doorway and return a curse. But he still stood, tense, close to the doorway, thinking that he was being a coward. Finally, he shook himself. Cowardice was better than foolishness, and walking into an ambush when a wand was probably already drawn and aimed, was foolishness.
Outside the doorway, out of Harry's sight, a few yards away on opposite sides, two masked wizards were tense and ready with their wands waiting to deal out death. A third wizard, wand drawn, was facing the onlookers, who were mostly doing their best to retreat out of danger as quickly as possible. And yet a fourth was covering Severus Snape, who had noticed that Harry was not with Hagrid, and had come to find him.
Harry silently appeared on the opposite side of the street from the bookstore. It took a moment for him to be noticed, giving him time to take in the situation. Then there was a warning yell from the wizard who had been covering the passers by, and the first Death Curse came speeding at him. Harry, as he had planned all along, stepped forward and returned the curse with the palm of his right hand, killing for the first time since Voldemort. Two more curses quickly followed, one was not well aimed, and missed by a yard, and Harry returned the other, killing again. The fourth wizard was brought down by Snape, with a stunner. The wizard with the poor aim had already disapparated.
Harry looked about him. Two dead, one stunned - and he scratched his head. He had planned up to the moment of killing, but what now? When he had killed Voldemort, he'd just gone off to celebrate, and left the grown-ups to clean up the mess. But now he was a grown-up himself - just what does one do with dead bodies?
Snape arrived at his side, and Harry turned to him, "What are we supposed to do with them?" he asked.
But Snape said calmly, "The aurors will be on their way, we just wait for them." Snape went to the stunned wizard, disarmed him, and tied him up.
"Anti-disapparation?" Harry asked.
" Done," said Snape.
Harry leaned over, and unmasked the stunned man, looking carefully at his face. And then he crossed to the bodies, and in a matter of fact way, looked at the faces of the men he had killed. He didn't actually know either of them, but they looked vaguely familiar. He had an excellent memory for names and faces. It was a survival skill, and Harry Potter was an expert at survival. And then he waited, leaning against the wall, where he could not be attacked from behind. Snape joined him and they waited for the aurors.
"It's a good thing I got here," said Snape, "You just might need a witness."
"There are plenty of witnesses," said Harry, looking at the growing crowd, none of whom had approached them.
"One willing to testify," said Snape. "You still have plenty of enemies, within the Ministry as well."
"I suppose I do," admitted Harry, "I should have thought of it."
Two aurors apparated a short distance from them, to the accompaniment of two loud cracks in the air. And suddenly a red streak of light came hurtling directly at Harry, who flung himself to the side and rolled away, disapparating mid roll, and appearing again on the floor of the bookstore, bringing piles of books cascading to the floor.
"Shit," said Harry, in heartfelt tones. He waved his wand at the books so that they sorted themselves into neat piles again, and at the muddy wet patch on the floor, and it became clean and dry again. By now the nervous bookstore owner was beginning to rethink his ideas - does an evil Dark Wizard bother to clean up after himself?
On request, he showed Harry to the bathroom, and Harry unhurriedly cleaned the mud off his robes and face. He knew who that auror was who had tried to stun him. What he was wondering was if John Dawlish knew that a stunner would kill him.
When Harry cautiously peered out the door, Dawlish appeared to still be talking to Snape, maybe arguing, but a younger auror whom he knew was standing nearby. Harry gave a low whistle, and when the auror looked around, said, "Mark?"
Mark looked back at Dawlish, but then quietly went to Harry. "Why?" asked Harry.
Mark was looking worried, "Well, it's fairly standard procedure to stun suspects..."
"So if I go out there, will Dawlish try it again?"
Mark shrugged, "I don't think so, there's no justification..."
"Is he your boss? Can he tell you what to do?"
"We're of equal rank, although, of course, he's been around a lot longer than I have."
Harry pulled out Madam Bones' note from his pocket, which he handed to Mark, and said, "Check this."
Mark did so and handed it back.
Harry said deliberately, "I'm not going to allow Dawlish to arrest me. Should I go out there?"
Mark remembered that he was an auror, and supposed to be in charge, and said, "Stay with me. He won't attack if he sees there's no need."
Harry pulled out his wand, holding it at his side. He thought that Dawlish would not attack if he saw that Harry was ready and armed. It was only then that he left the shelter of the bookstore, and, accompanied by Mark, strolled toward Snape and Dawlish.
Dawlish turned to him, doing his best to bottle up his ire. "Decided to face up to the music, have you, Potter?" he asked.
"There's no music to face," said Harry, coolly. "I have it on best authority that returning a Death Curse is the same as a duelling death - no repercussions. I even have a note to that effect written by the Minister for Magic."
Dawlish looked on the brink of an explosion, and Harry asked, still perfectly coolly, "Are you going to remove the bodies? Or do you want me to do something about them?"
Dawlish looked away - he appeared to be almost choking. "We'll do that - you may go," he finally got out.
Harry nodded coolly, and turned away, never quite taking his eyes off Dawlish.
He strolled off then, far less casual than he seemed. Severus Snape was at his side, and he asked, "What now?"
Harry said, "Oh, home, I think. I reckon that's enough for one day. Thanks for your help. Four at once was a bit much!"
"How did you know not to come out of that bookstore?"
"Cowardice, mainly."
They followed the track back to Hogwarts, until Harry stopped, looking at the heavier tree cover beside the track ahead of them. "I think I'll apparate from here. No doubt I'll see you at lunch."
Snape nodded, and Harry vanished, reappearing at the creeper that made it easy to climb the wall of Hogwarts. Considerately, he reported to the gatekeepers that he was back. The gatekeepers, as always, shook their heads in mystification. Only Harry seemed to be able to enter and leave when he chose, and not use the main gate.
Word had not yet spread at lunchtime, and Harry was allowed to eat his lunch in peace, before joining Hagrid for the afternoon. He was matter of fact about the killings. It was a necessary act, he felt, neither particularly good nor particularly bad - just necessary.
By the time he appeared for dinner, though, it was a different matter. He could ignore the whisperings and talk of the students - he'd had enough practice, but some of his fellow teachers were very persistent, wanting details, and loud in their acclamation. He tried to freeze them off, which used to work so well, but the Muggle Studies and the Arithmancy Professors refused to leave him alone, apparently convinced that he was happy to be repeatedly congratulated.
Out of the blue, he lost his temper. "It's not a matter for congratulation, for God's sake! It was just a job that had to be done. So just leave me alone!" he said, more loudly and angrily than anyone had heard him speak before. And he abandoned his half eaten dinner and stalked out of the hall, leaving behind him some very surprised people. No-one had seen Harry Potter lose his temper before, or not since he was in his teens!
He took himself to where he could work off his bad temper - the gymnasium. And even though he rarely used it, this time he was hammering into the large punching bag, hitting with a lot more ferocity than when he had coldly returned those killing blows earlier in the day. But even in his black mood, he had placed himself so that he could immediately see when anyone entered. He knew there were a few giggling girls in the far corner, and ignored them. And he knew when Professors Snape and Dumbledore entered, and was tempted to ignore them, too.
But Professor Dumbledore conjured three chairs in the corner of the room, and Snape went over to the girls, saying smoothly, "Exercising, girls?" and they quickly took themselves off. Harry gave a few more forceful blows to the punching bag, and, with a bare glance at the waiting professors, had a quick shower, vanished the exercise shorts he had conjured, and dressed.
Dumbledore was remembering an emaciated boy who had pleaded to stay in the Gryffindor rooms for just a bit longer. Dumbledore had understood him then, to mean that he would take himself off to the hospital when the time came for him to die. But this day, Harry had been wearing just a brief pair of exercise shorts, and was looking strong, fit and muscular. In spite of all that had been set against him, Harry Potter had survived. He suddenly thought that maybe Harry was right after all - maybe the job that he had done today was one that needed to be done, part of his battle for survival.
Harry, still looking rather black, joined Snape and Dumbledore, sitting in the chair that was waiting for him, and defensively looked at Dumbledore and said, "Yes?"
But Dumbledore took both Snape and Harry by surprise, by saying, quite gently, "You're probably right - it was just a job that had to be done."
Harry looked his surprise. " I thought you'd give me a lecture!"
"Not this time," said Dumbledore, smiling, and Harry's bad temper evaporated.
Dumbledore said casually, "By the way, you lied to me this morning."
"I didn't lie," said Harry, "Just maybe misled you a bit."
"I didn't think anyone could lie to me without me knowing."
Harry grinned, "You did say the other day that I had unexpected talents..."
Snape gave a crack of laughter at this, and Dumbledore smiled, too.
"So, anyway, what did you want?"
"Just a few more details about this morning - just tell it in your own words."
Harry was brief. "I went out the main gates so they'd have warning, went to the bookshop, but instead of coming straight out, I apparated over the other side of the street. There were four. I killed two, and Severus stunned one. There was another got away. And after that, the auror, John Dawlish tried to get me with a stunner - and I'd really like to know whether he knew that a stunner would kill me!"
"Then what?"
"Nothing much, they let us go."
Snape put in, "That stunner was a very near miss!"
"I wasn't expecting it," answered Harry simply.
"Well, I hope it works," said Dumbledore, getting up and vanishing the chairs. The three started to leave together.
"Have you forgotten your exercise clothes?" Snape reminded Harry.
"No, there were only the shorts and they were conjured, so I just vanished them."
"That's brave, wearing conjured clothes - especially with those infatuated girls watching," Snape said.
Harry grinned. "That's the first time I've risked it, but I forgot my gear and I was really too angry to care. Anyhow, my furniture seems to last for years, surely a couple of hours is not much to ask of a pair of shorts!"
Snape stopped in his stride, and turned to Harry, "How long does your furniture last?"
"I don't really know - I'm still waiting for some to disappear."
Dumbledore was curious now. "The official record is sixteen months. Most wizards make the experiment at some time - my stuff lasted about fourteen months, but that was when I was very young. I don't think I've tried it since."
Harry was getting self conscious now, and didn't volunteer any further information. He was always cagey when it seemed he could do things that other people could not. Snape and Dumbledore were still curious.
Snape asked, "Didn't you conjure a hospital bed for Madam Pomfrey once? She wouldn't have used it, obviously - but maybe she would know how long it took to vanish," and he turned his steps to the nearby hospital, followed by Dumbledore, and, after a moment, by Harry, suddenly curious too.
Madam Pomfrey welcomed them, but at first, could not remember what they had done with the hospital bed. So they checked the store rooms, after a time finding a bed with a tag, saying 'Conjured, do not use.' Snape gave the bed a shake, finding it perfectly solid.
"You were seventeen when you conjured this," he said, "And you're what, twenty-four now?"
Harry was looking away, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, but he nodded.
"Seven years! You haven't just broken the record, you've smashed it!"
Madam Pomfrey was looking at him with amazement now, too - and he didn't like it.
"Please keep it quiet," said poor Harry, "It'll only make more enemies for me if it's known."
But Snape and Dumbledore were intrigued. Snape turned to Madam Pomfrey, "Why didn't you vanish it? It was useless to you, after all."
"It wouldn't vanish," said Madam Pomfrey, "So we just put it away to vanish in its own good time."
"I'll vanish it now for you, if you want," put in Harry, hoping to get rid of the evidence, but Snape said, "Absolutely not!"
Harry had out his wand, but Dumbledore put up his hand, "No, leave it there."
Harry looked at his watch instead, trying to think of an excuse to escape this increasingly embarrassing interview.
Dumbledore was looking at Harry. "People have had trouble undoing your spells before, haven't they?"
"Don't think so," he said, "Look, I've really got some jobs to do - how about we talk about this some other time."
But Snape drawled, "I think we need to do some experimenting, don't you, Albus?"
And Dumbledore said, "Come on, Harry, no time like the present. Let's go to my office," and Snape and Dumbledore turned away. Harry stood stock still for a moment, until Dumbledore looked back, and said, "Harry?" He shot a despairing glance at Madam Pomfrey, and followed them.
To Dumbledore's amusement, Harry was looking thoroughly ashamed now, as if it was some great crime to have more magical power than anyone else. Snape wondered for a moment if he should leave, but this was too interesting. He wasn't going to leave unless ordered. Dumbledore arranged for tea and scones, which nicely distracted Harry, who had discovered he was hungry. Professor McGonnagal knocked and entered. At a questioning glance from Harry, Dumbledore said, "Yes, I invited her." Harry helped himself to another scone, but he was looking at the door, wondering what his chances were of escape.
At length, Dumbledore said, "Harry, stop looking as if you've been found out in a crime. Won't you indulge our curiosity? We'll keep it between ourselves."
Harry sighed, "What do you want me to do?"
"How about you conjure a table, and we'll just see how easy it is to vanish."
Harry took out his wand, and conjured a small table, which they all, even Dumbledore, found impossible to vanish again.
"Vanish it now, thanks, Harry," said Dumbledore, "No, not with your wand," as Harry raised it.
So Harry shrugged and glanced briefly at the table, which vanished.
Severus Snape stared with his mouth open. Madam McGonnagal had known that Harry could do this, but neither she nor Dumbledore had ever seen it, and they were both silent.
Harry asked hopefully, "Can I go now?"
But Snape asked, "What else can you do, Harry?"
"You know I heal people," Harry offered.
"Yes, but what else?"
"I don't know. What do you want?" He felt cornered, and again he looked at his watch.
Dumbledore finally took pity on him, and said, "All right, then, off you go."
Harry hurried out without a backward glance. Minerva McGonnagal was amused. "He has all this power, and he still acts as if he was a schoolboy caught in mischief!"
But Severus Snape said soberly, "That power is the reason that Fudge wanted to have him committed. He was terrified that night - he has good reason for hiding what he can do."
Dumbledore agreed, "Severus is quite right. This must go no further than my office."
But the three senior professors sat and talked about Harry's abilities for another two hours before finally dispersing.
Meantime Harry hurried away, feeling indeed like a schoolboy caught out in mischief. He forgot to worry about the unwanted talk and congratulations that he had received because of that day's killings. But the display of his skills bothered him, and that night he woke from one of his nightmares that left him white and shaking. And after a time, he rose, dressed, and prowled the corridors of Hogwarts as he sometimes did when he couldn't sleep.
The senior professors refrained from putting Harry on the spot about his magic again, and the excited talk about the killings soon died down, but there was one lasting result of that early December day. Harry lost his reluctance to wear his own conjured exercise clothes. And since he vanished the sweat soaked clothes afterward anyway, the shorts and singlets he conjured for himself became increasingly lurid in colour and pattern as he gave his own taste for extreme colour contrasts free range.
When he remembered the fascinating interweaving images on the book cover he still had, he went further. The crimsons, violets and almost iridescent oranges began to move, until they were quite nauseating to look at.
Although he was regularly in the gym, his time of exercising varied day to day, as he didn't like having an audience, especially not the besotted girls who were apt to follow him whenever there was an opportunity. He was not working out in order to acquire bulging muscles, rather he felt a need to extend himself physically, to stretch muscles to the point of fatigue. He found pleasure in feeling his own strength, knowing from sad experience how it felt to be feeble.
The incredible clothing he was now using was not seen by anyone else for a couple of weeks. But then Snape came looking for him for something. Harry was using the rowing machine, and wearing a colour combination that day that was quite stunning. And just to make things more interesting, an image of a black snake would suddenly weave through the riotous colour. Snape stared, tore his eyes away, stared again, and at last went into paroxysms of laughter.
Harry grinned at him. He liked to make Snape laugh. "You like it?" he asked. "I'll make you a shirt for Christmas."
"No, no! Please don't!" Snape choked.
But Harry presented most of his friends that year with some absolutely incredible garments that he had conjured, to general hilarity and enjoyment. He was sharing Christmas dinner with the Weasleys that year, and was tickled pink when redheaded Ron presented himself at the table wearing the mostly crimson, murky yellow, and vivid purple shirt, that occasionally showed a speeding Quidditch player shooting across the background. Ron was driven off, the company declaring that they could not possibly eat with that at the table!
None of the recipients of the gifts threw them away, though, even if they did hurt to look at. Ginny wrapped her blouse carefully and put it away in a bottom drawer. Somehow it seemed so very much Harry!
***chapter end***
